Chapter 3: A Wide Age Range

The man’s frivolous behavior pushed Song Yin’s humiliation to its peak.

Song Yin thought to herself that he had clearly made up his mind about what kind of person she was.

It didn't matter anymore.

She had no obligation to explain herself to anyone.

She went along with the flow, saying, "Then I thank you, Third Master."

Song Yin pushed the door open and stepped out of the car.

Outside, the wind and rain were already fierce.

The man looked at her slender figure, intending to offer her an umbrella, but Song Yin rushed into the rain without a backward glance, as if possessed by a sense of solitary courage.

The rain fell like a curtain, blurring the view. Soon, her figure vanished from sight.

This was an old district, a place that held no value for redevelopment and, in his eyes, was nothing more than a slum—a place of chaotic crowds, heavy with the mundane atmosphere of life in cramped, snail-like dwellings.

The man gave it no further thought and told the driver to pull away.

Drenched, Song Yin climbed to the fifth floor.

By the time she reached her door, she was panting heavily.

In this old five-story building, being on the top floor saved her a hundred or two on rent—a significant amount for someone as strapped for cash as she was.

Since she had arrived, she deliberately softened her movements.

She took out her keys and opened the door.

The door had long been faulty, making a loud, heavy, and piercing sound. Even though Song Yin tried her best to push it slowly, the noise still seemed deafening.

Suddenly catching a whiff of cigarette smoke, Song Yin pushed the door open without hesitation.

She caught Song Yulian smoking on the balcony red-handed.

Surprised by Song Yin’s sudden return, she hastily stubbed out the cigarette and stepped inside.

"Yinyin..."

Song Yulian was in her early fifties. Though her complexion looked poor, her face still retained traces of her former beauty; one could easily tell what a stunning woman she must have been in her youth.

But what did that matter? Everyone eventually fades with time.

Song Yin changed into her slippers and said sharply, "If you’re so tired of living, why force me to go beg him for money?"

"I was just worried about you, that’s why... I promise I won’t smoke anymore, okay?"

Song Yin ignored her. Song Yulian followed behind, asking, "Didn't you take an umbrella? Why are you so soaked?"

"The umbrella broke. The wind was too strong."

"Go take a hot shower quickly. By the way, did you get in touch with him?"

"We’re meeting tomorrow during the day." She hurried toward her bedroom, not letting Song Yulian see too much of her expression.

"As long as you made contact. Talk to him properly and get the money. I know this is hard on you..."

"Since you know it’s hard, can you at least respect the self-esteem I’ve had to trample upon?" Song Yin felt an inexplicable surge of agitation.

Song Yulian didn't know what to say and silently retreated into her own bedroom.

Song Yin sat on her bed and pulled out the stack of bills from her bag.

Having kept them tucked inside her bra, they were damp from the rain and now looked crumpled.

She smoothed them out one by one, then paused.

She threw them all onto the bed and went to take a shower.

A workhorse, as long as it isn't dead and can still crawl, must keep on working.

The next day, Song Yin got up as usual, had some breakfast, and prepared to leave.

Song Yulian warned her, "Don't fight with him. After all, you're asking for money, and since you haven't been in contact for so many years, he’s bound to be displeased."

"Mom, I know. You stay home and rest well."

She put on her bag and headed out.

After squeezing onto the bus and reaching the office, she set her bag down.

She had studied Arabic and, after graduation, smoothly landed a job in international trade.

The great thing about sales is that there is no ceiling to the company’s potential.

In the year or so she had been there, she had become capable of handling things on her own, securing two or three significant contracts that brought in a handsome commission.

Yet, even so, it wasn't enough to plug the massive hole in her family finances.

Otherwise, she wouldn't have had to beg Lu Guang last night.

Just as she finished chatting with a colleague, her phone rang.

Song Yin glanced at it and walked aside to answer.

"Hello, Mr. Shen."

"I told you, don't be so formal. Just call me Brother An."

Song Yin didn't change her tune, asking, "Did you need something, Mr. Shen?"

"Did you see Mr. Lu yesterday?"

"I did."

Song Yin was just an ordinary office worker. Lu Guang’s circle was far beyond her reach; she had no connections to inquire about him—except for Shen Zhuo'an.

Shen Zhuo'an owned a company, and Song Yin’s firm had successfully negotiated an export deal with them.

She had gotten to know him while accompanying her foreign trade manager to business dinners.

Shen Zhuo'an was a "second-generation rich" kid who treated his company like a hobby, and he was constantly in the gossip columns.

He had set his sights on Song Yin from the start.

Unfortunately, Song Yin was impervious to his charms and remained lukewarm toward the young master.

Just as Shen Zhuo'an was fretting over how to win her over, Song Yin had unexpectedly reached out to him to ask about Lu Guang’s whereabouts.

Seeing a chance to impress her, Shen Zhuo'an had naturally put in the effort.

That was how Song Yin ended up waiting for Lu Guang at the high-end club last night.

"So, can you fulfill your promise to me now?"

He wasn't a philanthropist. In exchange for finding out Lu Guang's itinerary, Song Yin had agreed to join him for a drink.

"I can. When?"

"Isn't it Friday today? Let's do it tonight. No need to pick a day."

She owed him a favor, after all.

Song Yin readily agreed.

"I’ll come pick you up."

"No need. Just give me the address, and I’ll go there myself."

Shen Zhuo'an laughed and agreed.

Her colleague, Cheng Zhi, knew a little about the situation and warned her, "Shen Zhuo'an is no saint. Be careful when you go tonight. You’re so beautiful—Shen Zhuo'an definitely has ill intentions."

"I know. Thank you."

At noon, Song Yin called Song Yulian to check if she had eaten on time and to tell her the money had arrived. She added that she had to work overtime and would be home late.

Song Yulian urged her to take care of her health.

Song Yin stayed at the office to work overtime.

Just before eight, she received a location pin from Shen Zhuo'an.

She took a taxi to the club.

Shen Zhuo'an had also sent the private room number, so she found it and pushed the door open.

Shen Zhuo'an was there with a group of young men and women.

Seeing Song Yin, they tactfully cleared a space beside Shen Zhuo'an.

"So this is the great beauty our Young Master Shen has been pining for. She’s truly stunning. Come, sit next to our Young Master Shen."

"Yinyin, don't listen to them. Sit here." Shen Zhuo'an patted the seat beside him.

Song Yin walked over, sat down, and said, "You can just call me Xiao Song, Mr. Shen."

"Calling you Xiao Song is too formal. 'Yinyin' sounds much better." He leaned closer and took a sniff, his tone suggestive. "You smell so good. What perfume are you wearing, Yinyin? Or is that your natural scent?"

Song Yin felt a wave of discomfort. She picked up her glass and said to Shen Zhuo'an, "Mr. Shen, thank you for your help. I’d like to propose a toast."

Shen Zhuo'an glanced at her, leaned back on the sofa, and said, "Yinyin, that’s not very sincere. You know how I feel—do you really think one drink is enough to brush me off?"

Song Yin paused and said, "Mr. Shen, I only agreed to join you for a drink."

Her tone was firm.

Shen Zhuo'an looked at her and smiled. "I didn't say otherwise. But since you're here, you should drink a bit more, right? Just one drink is such a buzzkill, isn't it?"

Shen Zhuo'an was technically right.

Song Yin knew that since she had asked him for a favor, she wouldn't gain anything by completely disrespecting him.

She downed the drink in her glass and said, "I’m going to the restroom. I’ll come back and drink with you properly."

Shen Zhuo'an tilted his head, letting her go.

A friend nearby whispered, "Aren't you afraid the duck will fly away?"

Shen Zhuo'an curled his lips into a smile. "She doesn't have the guts. Do you take me for a pushover?"

Song Yin stepped out of the room, feeling slightly unwell from the drink.

As she turned, her gaze unexpectedly met a pair of cold, deep eyes.

He stood there with his hands in his pockets right at the doorway of the room. Whether he had seen everything that happened inside, Song Yin could not tell.

He looked at her with an indifferent gaze, his voice carrying his signature air of languor.

"You have quite the connections."

He paused, glancing sideways with a pointed look. "And quite a wide age range, too."