Chapter 57: A Golden Opportunity to Get Rich

After bidding farewell to Du Jingjing, Chu Tianfeng made his way to the Trade Tower and spent the entire afternoon wandering around its ground floor. He had visited the twenty-first floor before, but Liu Zhijian seemed perpetually busy—constantly entertaining one guest after another, rarely pausing for breath.

It was only after seven o’clock, once the sun had set completely, that Liu Zhijian finally emerged from the building, dragging his tired body to a waiting taxi by the curb. Chu Tianfeng hailed his own cab and followed at a leisurely distance.

The two vehicles were scarcely ten meters apart, but Liu Zhijian appeared oblivious, sitting relaxed in his car, engaged in endless phone calls, not even bothering to glance in the rearview mirror.

Half an hour later, the taxi arrived at an upscale club. Liu Zhijian strode directly inside. Chu Tianfeng followed close behind. Liu Zhijian selected private room number eight; Chu Tianfeng booked the adjacent number nine.

He wasn’t here for dinner anyway, so he ordered a few light dishes and a bottle of red wine.

The club’s menu was somewhat expensive, but with a price came quality—especially their attentive service. They assigned Chu Tianfeng a muscular male attendant, whose duties included pouring wine and even serving food.

“Miss, this red wine is from a French vineyard. Its aroma is fresh and delicate, with subtle fruit notes and a faint tartness. A sip leaves your lips fragrant and the aftertaste lingers wonderfully,” the attendant explained with practiced eloquence.

Chu Tianfeng silently endured.

Oblivious, the attendant continued, “Miss, this heavenly pork trotter is a beauty elixir, made with natural yam and stewed with blueberry and tender pig’s feet. It’s rich but not greasy, delicious and aromatic—a rare delicacy. Regular consumption will leave your skin as smooth as a baby’s.”

Chu Tianfeng gripped his chopsticks until they creaked.

He detested people commenting on the quality of his skin, and loathed being called effeminate.

The attendant pressed on, “Miss, you made a small mistake with the spicy boiled beef. This fiery dish does nothing for your complexion or beauty. Overindulgence may disrupt your metabolism and cause physiological imbalances—even irregular menstruation—so really…”

“Get out!” Unable to bear it any longer, Chu Tianfeng slammed his chopsticks onto the table.

A line had been crossed—his sacred boundary!

“Miss, you—”

“Leave!” Chu Tianfeng lifted his right foot threateningly.

The attendant fell silent and retreated in panic.

“Damn it, irregular menstruation!” Chu Tianfeng cursed.

With the attendant gone, Chu Tianfeng enjoyed much-needed peace. He crossed his legs, sipped his wine, and used his spiritual sense to eavesdrop on the adjacent room.

There were only two people next door—Liu Zhijian and a young woman.

She was strikingly beautiful: an oval face, large, watery eyes, and a coquettish voice. She seemed familiar, though Chu Tianfeng couldn’t quite place her.

“Brother Liu, I ordered this dish especially for you. You must eat more,” the young woman said, warmly serving Liu Zhijian.

“Mm, not bad.” Liu Zhijian munched on a piece of lamb while his hand roamed the young woman’s thigh.

It was unclear if he was praising the lamb or her thigh.

“Brother Liu, tell me, how do you think I treat you?” The young woman gently pushed his hand away.

“Bah.” Liu Zhijian spat out a bone, speaking indistinctly, “You’re alright.”

“But you’re not very good to me,” she said plaintively.

“Am I not good to you?” Liu Zhijian smiled, reaching once more for her thigh.

“You prefer that girl surnamed Cai, not me. Is that good?” This time, she didn’t dodge.

Liu Zhijian said nothing, his hand persistently stroking her thigh.

“Brother Liu, say something.” The young woman stood and slowly settled herself onto his lap.

“Mmm—” Liu Zhijian sighed with pleasure. “Very nice.”

She gently swayed her voluptuous hips. “Brother Liu, how about now?”

Chu Tianfeng rolled his eyes. He finally remembered who she was.

She was the actress Zhang Xiaoyu. Once, he and Flower Dance had encountered her at Lin Qian’s boutique, and the meeting had been most unpleasant.

Chu Tianfeng vaguely recalled she had a boyfriend—a young man with a square face and decent cultivation, rumored to be a rich kid. Yet here she was, cheating on him so openly; she certainly wasn’t timid.

“Mmm—” Liu Zhijian let out a comfortable moan, “Go on.”

Zhang Xiaoyu stood up, her watery eyes filled with affection as she gazed at Liu Zhijian. Then she gently lifted her skirt, revealing two pale thighs.

Liu Zhijian understood, swiftly stripped, and lunged at her.

Chu Tianfeng frowned slightly.

He thought to himself, I’m just here to collect a debt—how am I supposed to face this?

Yet his sharp senses quickly recognized a golden opportunity.

He stood, quietly approached the door to room eight, removed his wig and mask, summoned his true energy, and delicately unlocked and opened the door.

Liu Zhijian and Zhang Xiaoyu were caught in the throes of passion, unable to separate in time.

Click! Click! Click!

Chu Tianfeng snapped away on his phone!

Left shot, right shot!

“Who are you?” Liu Zhijian hastily withdrew from Zhang Xiaoyu, searching for something to cover himself.

“Director Liu, how quickly you forget! You owe me eleven thousand—already slipped your mind?” Chu Tianfeng spoke while continuing to press the shutter.

“Don’t!” Zhang Xiaoyu desperately tried to hide.

She knew the intruder was here for Liu Zhijian, but she was simply collateral damage.

“Apologies, you two. Please cooperate.” Chu Tianfeng sent a wave of true energy, flinging Liu Zhijian’s clothes aside and nearly knocking him over.

“Please, stop taking pictures,” Zhang Xiaoyu pleaded in a low voice.

“You’re Chu… Chu Tianfeng?!” Liu Zhijian finally recognized the persistent creditor.

“Correct!” Chu Tianfeng, satisfied with his photos, put away his phone.

The pair scrambled for their clothes, hurriedly dressing.

Chu Tianfeng sat boldly at the table, eyeing the sumptuous spread, his throat audibly rumbling.

“It’s the crew that owes you, not me personally. You can’t do this to me.” Liu Zhijian, now dressed, sat beside Chu Tianfeng.

His excuse was reasonable, but Chu Tianfeng was not so easily fooled.

“Don’t think I’m unaware of your tricks.” Chu Tianfeng snorted. “So, how much are you prepared to pay?”

He’d heard stories of Liu Zhijian keeping mistresses, coercing actresses, and routinely pocketing the wages of bit players like himself—it was all par for the course.

“You—” Liu Zhijian was exasperated.

The other party was unreasonable, talking money right away—a tactic that Liu Zhijian himself typically wielded. Now, the tables had turned.

“Handsome, settle your own scores without dragging me into this,” Zhang Xiaoyu pleaded pitifully. “Besides, I truly have no money.”

She clearly hadn’t recognized Chu Tianfeng as the older man she’d met before.

Chu Tianfeng ignored her, focusing solely on Liu Zhijian.

He bore no grudge against Zhang Xiaoyu; she could consort with whomever she wished. He wasn’t here for her.

“Fine, one hundred thousand. I’ll transfer it tomorrow—but you must destroy all the photos now,” Liu Zhijian said through gritted teeth.

He feigned pain, but in truth, the offer was merely to gauge Chu Tianfeng’s reaction.

“Come on! Nude photos of you two worth so little? Don’t underestimate yourselves!” Chu Tianfeng tapped the table. “Even solo shots command more than that—let alone your joint, passionate poses!”

Chu Tianfeng, trained in acting, easily saw through Liu Zhijian’s performance.

“Alright, two hundred thousand. That’s all I have.” Liu Zhijian’s eyes blazed.

From Chu Tianfeng’s earlier display of power, Liu Zhijian realized he was no match—even with Zhang Xiaoyu’s help.

Chu Tianfeng remained unimpressed.

“How much do you want, then?” Liu Zhijian asked bitterly.

“Give me your phone,” Chu Tianfeng demanded.

Reluctantly, Liu Zhijian handed it over.

Chu Tianfeng dialed his own number, then tossed the phone back.

“One price—ten million!” Chu Tianfeng said, raising a finger.

He had no idea how wealthy Liu Zhijian was, but aimed as high as possible.

“What?” Liu Zhijian’s jaw dropped.

He knew Chu Tianfeng was here for money, but hadn’t expected such a staggering sum.

Suddenly, compared to Chu Tianfeng, Liu Zhijian realized how gentle and kind he’d been in the past. He vowed to emulate Chu Tianfeng from now on—always talk money, and aim for these figures.

“I don’t haggle,” Chu Tianfeng stood up. “I’ll send you my account number later. I expect ten million in ten days, or prepare to become famous!”

“You—” Liu Zhijian was left speechless.

Chu Tianfeng strode to the door, paused as if remembering something, then turned slightly: “Sorry for interrupting your pleasure. Please, carry on!”

But whatever interest remained, neither Liu Zhijian nor Zhang Xiaoyu wished to continue.

They stared blankly as Chu Tianfeng exited, then looked at each other in confusion.

“Brother Liu, who is he?” Zhang Xiaoyu broke the silence.

She felt aggrieved—the matter had nothing to do with her, yet she was dragged into the mess.

“He’s called Chu Tianfeng, just a minor extra,” Liu Zhijian replied disdainfully.

Extras like him were usually easy to crush. Who could have guessed this cunning little extra would turn the tables and have the director at his mercy?

“Do you really owe him money?” Zhang Xiaoyu asked.

“Not exactly,” Liu Zhijian admitted. “I borrowed it temporarily for stock trading.”

He regretted it now—he should have repaid the paltry eleven thousand, barely a single meal’s worth.

“So what will you do?” Zhang Xiaoyu, as a woman, felt lost.

“I don’t know. I need to think,” Liu Zhijian said, lighting a cigarette.

“I think you’d better pay him; otherwise, we’ll both be ruined,” Zhang Xiaoyu suggested, frowning.

Liu Zhijian knew this well enough. Their explicit photos were in Chu Tianfeng’s hands—if they didn’t pay, he would surely spread them far and wide.

“Ah, most of my money is tied up in stocks—hard to withdraw right now,” Liu Zhijian said gloomily. “I’ve lost a bit, and even if I sold everything, it wouldn’t cover ten million.”

“But don’t you have a few apartments?”

Clearly, Zhang Xiaoyu knew him well.

“To sell them would take too long—he wants ten million in ten days,” Liu Zhijian complained. “How much can you contribute? Let’s see if we can pool enough.”

“I only have about a hundred thousand in cash,” Zhang Xiaoyu admitted, embarrassed. “My car and apartment were gifts from Cheng Shao. If I sold them, he’d kill me.”

“Ah!” Liu Zhijian sighed, blowing a smoke ring. “Let’s think of another way. First, we need him to destroy the photos.”

“Brother Liu, if we pay him but he doesn’t destroy the photos—and keeps extorting us—what then?” Zhang Xiaoyu worried.

She knew her boyfriend’s temperament; if he discovered her infidelity, things wouldn’t end well.

“Hmph!” Liu Zhijian gritted his teeth. “Don’t worry—getting my money won’t be easy. I know plenty of people in the underworld—he won’t get away with it.”