After my divorce at thirty, I developed an intelligence network.

Zibo City.

Gong Yuelong stood at the foot of the unfinished building, which had only taken up its frame. Looking up, he saw that the safety netting on the exterior wall was full of holes, making the building look like it was dressed in beggar's clothes.

This place used to be called Lafite House, a business that Gong Yuelong's company had secured.

Now, it's nothing. All my savings are gone.

"Gong Yuelong! You really are here!"

A woman's voice rang out from behind the temporary housing next door; the voice was cold and distant.

Gong Yuelong slowly turned around, looked at the person who had come, and chuckled. The beautiful creditor who was collecting debts had arrived.

The newcomer was a woman not yet thirty, with short, ear-length hair and a gleaming gold chain around her neck. She held a cigarette in her hand and had a cold, indifferent gaze.

Two burly men stood silently beside her, following behind her.

When Gong Yuelong first saw her, a thought inexplicably flashed through his mind: if this woman wore a dress and grew her hair long, she might actually look quite pleasing to the eye.

The thought flashed through his mind, and he himself found it absurd—what kind of time is this to be thinking about this?

"Sister Jiang," Gong Yuelong said with a smile.

"Sister Jiang" is a title; she's younger than him. Her real name is Jiang Yan, and she works in the building materials business, helps people secure projects, lends money, and so on—her business scope is extremely broad.

She's not married yet, but she's ruthless in her words and actions than many men. Everyone in the industry knows that she doesn't just care about money; she also cares about people—if she doesn't like you, she can make sure you can't make a living in Zibo City.

"Don't call me 'sister'." Jiang Yan took a few steps closer, not smoking, just staring at him. "Where's the money?"

"When are you going to pay back the 830,000 yuan for building materials? When I burn paper money for you?"

Gong Yuelong didn't reply. He looked down and pulled out a pack of crumpled white cigarettes from his inner pocket. These were strong and cheap.

There are only two left in the box, and one of them has a slightly deflated filter tip.

He took out the good cigarette, glanced at Jiang Yan, and then put it back.

He reached out and asked Jiang Yan for a cigarette.

Jiang Yan scoffed, took the cigarette off her ear, and handed it to Gong Yuelong.

Gong Yuelong took it and put it in his mouth.

Jiang Yan clapped her hands and sneered:

"Gong Yuelong, Boss Gong, do you think that because you're in this state, I won't dare to touch you?"

She took a step forward, almost touching him:

"Let me tell you, if it weren't for the fact that you owe me money, you wouldn't be standing here anymore."

She kept her voice very low:

"Physically disappear, you understand? I'm not trying to scare you."

Her breath brushed against his face as she spoke, carrying a faint smell of smoke and an indescribable cool fragrance.

A thought inexplicably crossed Gong Yuelong's mind: Would she look pretty if she smiled?

He then cursed himself inwardly: I'm about to die, and I'm still thinking about these things.

Gong Yuelong didn't respond. He took a step back, pulled out the plastic lighter that came with the cigarettes, clicked it twice, the flame leaped up, lit the cigarette, and took a puff.

Jiang Yan stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly raised her hand, snatched the cigarette from his mouth, and threw it on the ground.

"I don't care if the developer runs away or your company goes bankrupt."

"I just want my money. If you don't see it before the New Year, don't even think about celebrating."

She turned around and added coldly:

"You also have a daughter, right? Her name is Duoduo?"

Gong Yuelong finally showed emotion in his eyes.

Jiang Yan twitched the corner of her mouth:

"Don't be nervous, I won't touch the child. But you have to understand, you owe not only money, but also time. My time is very valuable."

After saying that, she left with her people.

Gong Yuelong picked up the cigarette from the ground, smiled, and took a deep drag.

Five years ago, he was still General Manager Gong, with about a hundred people under him, and he smoked Zhonghua cigarettes.

Now, everything is gone.

The company went bankrupt, leaving behind a mountain of debt; the house and car had to be sold.

To avoid burdening his wife and children, he got divorced. The nice way to put it is to divide the property, but the unpleasant way is to take all the debts on himself.

They agreed to remarry after things calmed down.

Less than six months later, his ex-wife and their daughter, Duoduo, went to work for a man with a stable job.

He also stood on this rooftop and considered jumping.

But the sound of his daughter Duoduo calling for her father was still ringing in his ears, and he couldn't move his legs.

The debt he owed was like a whip, forcing him to keep moving.

But at thirty years old, burdened with a debt of four million two hundred thousand, who would be willing to give him a project?

All I can do is drive this beat-up pickup truck that's about to fall apart, hang around the labor market, take on odd jobs that others don't want, and collect scrap materials from construction sites to make a living.

"bite--"

My WeChat notification rang.

He pulled out his old phone with the cracked screen and looked at it. It was a message from Lao Zhao, who used to work with him:

"Brother Long, are you feeling better? Need some money? Want the brothers to chip in?"

Gong Yuelong looked at the words, his eyes flickered, then darkened again. He knew it was just polite talk.

He exited the chat and glanced at his wallet balance: 376.5.

He didn't reply, but directly clicked the transfer button, sent 300, and then changed Lao Zhao's nickname from "Lao Zhao-5000" to "Lao Zhao-4700".

This is money he owed someone, and he's paying back some of it.

The accounts had to be recorded one by one, and paid off one by one...

After finishing all that, he looked up at the city center in the distance, brightly lit, with skyscrapers, some of which he had helped build.

Now, it has nothing to do with him anymore.

He wiped his face hard, and when he opened his eyes again, he was stunned for a moment.

A screen of azure light suddenly appeared before him:

The daily intelligence system is now activated.

[Host: Gong Yuelong]

System Level: 1

[Today's alert: Twenty minutes later, at the south gate of the North City Labor Market, a woman driving a white SUV needs furniture assembled. Her budget is 800 yuan. She prefers men with honest-looking faces.]

Gong Yuelong froze on the spot, dropping the cigarette in his hand onto the cement floor.

He stared at the suddenly appearing blue light screen, his mind blank, and it took him a while to come to his senses.

He subconsciously raised his hand to rub his eyes, then pinched his thin arm hard, the pain making him gasp, before he realized that what he was seeing was not an illusion.

"Daily intelligence system?"

Gong Yuelong murmured to himself, his heart filled with doubt and shock.

However, he quickly realized a few key pieces of information: twenty minutes, 800 yuan, and honest-looking.

For him, a budget of 800 yuan is undoubtedly a lifeline—more than he earns from four days of odd jobs.

Despite his skepticism about this system that appeared out of nowhere, the debt was like a whip lashing his back, and he had to seize any opportunity to turn things around.

He looked honest-looking. He glanced down at his clothes.

Wearing a worn but clean overcoat, he rubbed his face, his expression troubled and distressed—isn't that what honesty looks like?

Then he saw the dirt on his hands; women like things clean.

He suddenly remembered the look of disdain Jiang Yan had given his hand earlier.

She probably likes things to be clean, because even though she smokes, her nails are always neatly trimmed. Unlike other women, she doesn't paint her nails in all sorts of colors.

He immediately ran to the tap, washed his face vigorously with cold water, picked clean from under his fingernails, and patted the dust off his body.

You need to make yourself appear more reliable.

After tidying up to his satisfaction, he walked a few steps to the beat-up pickup truck, opened the door, and climbed inside.