Chapter 3: The Reckoning
Wang Fujiang's spine turned to ice at the implication. Another confrontation with Gu Chen would spell annihilation for the Wang dynasty!
The patriarch's earlier schemes to eliminate this thorn in his flesh now seemed laughably naive—the hunter had nearly become the hunted before his plot could unfold.
Having settled the Wang family affair, Gu Chen mounted his bicycle beneath the moon's pallid gaze, wheels whispering against asphalt as he returned to Rainflower Terrace Villa. Midnight's cloak draped the estate when he arrived, golden light spilling from upper windows while shadows swallowed the ground floor.
He ghosted through the entrance, weariness clinging to his bones like funeral shrouds. The moment his body met the mattress, familiar phantoms swarmed his consciousness, their spectral fingers dragging him into fitful visions...
---
Dawn's first light found the two women blinking sleep from their eyes. An intoxicating symphony of sizzling garlic and caramelized meats halted them mid-yawn.
"Divine!" Lin Shiyu breathed, stomach answering with an undignified rumble.
Ling Meixue gripped the balustrade, her gaze dropping to the kitchen below, where Gu Chen moved with military precision, arranging porcelain treasures on the dining table.
"Weren't you meant to be gone?!" Their synchronized exclamation echoed through the vaulted space.
Memories of last night's conversation tightened Ling Meixue's throat. She'd condemned his apparent docility when Lin Shiyu mentioned his departure—this man who'd weathered storms should have roared defiance, not slipped away like morning mist.
Gu Chen's wolfish grin cut through the tension. "Abandon my sanctuary? Where else would the tides of fate carry me?"
"But... the villa..." Ling Meixue's knuckles whitened on her silk robe. "I pledged to liquidate the property. Don't you doubt my honour?" The estate's hundred-million-yuan valuation hung between them like Damocles' sword.
"Bricks and mortar are transient." He waved a spatula like a conductor's baton. "My true vocation awaits."
"Vocation?!" Her laugh carried the bitterness of wormwood. "My empire crumbles to dust. What occupation remains?"
The shrill ringtone severed her words. 8:17 AM glared accusingly from her phone—three hours past corporate decorum. Her secretary's ID flashed like a distress beacon.
"Madam CEO!" The voice crackled with static and panic. "They're here—the creditors! A mob at our gates is demanding an audience. The entire staff assembled in the atrium. We're adrift without your help!"
The device slipped from Ling Meixue's numb fingers. Bankruptcy vultures circled closer than she'd feared.
She became a whirlwind of flying silk and snapping heels. Gu Chen intercepted her charge, breakfast offering extended like a peace banner. "Even phoenixes need sustenance before rising from ashes."
"Must you play the fool?!" Her composure shattered, diamond tears cutting paths through carefully applied foundation. "Can't you see the funeral pyre? Our contract's a corpse—bury it and let my dignity rot in peace!" Her sweeping arm sent the pancake clattering to the tiles, golden syrup bleeding across marble.
The silence that followed echoed louder than her outburst. When she spoke again, her voice held the fragility of antique glass: "My apologies. The blade slips when honour bleeds."
Kneeling Redemption at Junli Group
The moment her words faded into the surrounding air, she quickly made her way towards the garage, her steps brisk and purposeful.
...
In front of the imposing and massive structure of the Junli Group, a remarkable scene was playing out.
Wang Fujiang, dressed in an exquisitely tailored charcoal-grey suit that hugged his frame perfectly, knelt in the very centre of the lobby like a deeply repentant sinner seeking absolution. Beside him, his son Wang Tao, whose body was heavily wrapped in bandages like a mummy, was trembling uncontrollably. His broken and fractured limbs were in obvious pain as they pressed against the unyielding and cold marble floor. A discarded stretcher lay nearby, serving as a stark reminder of the harsh paternal tyranny at play—the patriarch had mercilessly ordered his injured offspring to abandon the comfort and safety of medical care and come here to endure this humiliating ritual. When one's very survival is on the brink of complete annihilation, any sense of pride quickly turns to dust in the face of such desperate circumstances.
Gasps of shock and disbelief echoed throughout the spacious atrium. The powerful leader of a multi-billion-yuan business empire, reduced to kneeling on the ground like a lowly mediaeval serf? It was a sight that defied all expectations and left everyone in stunned silence.
"Where is she?" Wang Fujiang's whispered question cut through the heavy silence like a sharp knife, each word quivering with a mix of fear and desperation, as if his very soul was being laid bare. Memories of the previous night's harrowing events came flooding back to him in a vivid and terrifying rush: a mysterious stranger had casually snapped his fingers, and in an instant, their once-mighty corporate strongholds had been reduced to rubble, their political influence had crumbled like a house of cards, and their very fates had been left hanging precariously over the edge of a judicial abyss. And yet, to their bewilderment, they had been inexplicably spared at dawn, their past misdeeds seemingly forgiven. Had it not been for the lingering sting of the self-inflicted slaps on his face, he might have dismissed the entire ordeal as a feverish and nightmarish hallucination.
"The CEO is coming!" A junior accountant's excited shout pierced through the hushed whispers of the onlookers as a sleek Porsche Cayenne smoothly glided into the covered entrance of the building.
Ling Meixue stepped out of the car, her perfectly tailored blazer fitting her like a finely honed blade, cutting through the thick tension that filled the air on that morning. The dark circles under her eyes were a clear indication of the sleepless nights she had spent strategising and planning. Wang Fujian quickly scrambled to adjust his kneeling position, his forehead touching the intricately veined marble floor in a grotesque and almost synchronised manner with the soft whimpers of pain coming from his son.
"Chairman Wang—care to explain this rather theatrical display?" Her voice, cold and sharp like a winter's frost but also showing signs of wear and tear at the edges, seemed to freeze the entire room in place. Just a few hours ago, his legal team had been like ravenous hounds, eagerly baying for her corporate downfall. And now, this unexpected and humbling spectacle?
"Please have mercy, CEO Ling!" He bowed his head even lower in a deep kowtow, his body moving like a marionette being pulled by invisible strings. "Our excessive arrogance and hubris truly deserved the destruction that was coming our way. We are willing to give up all of our claims to the lands in the eastern district. We will even invest one billion yuan just to retain a mere symbolic share of the company, only one per cent! Please, accept this bloodied olive branch as a gesture of our sincere repentance and a plea for redemption!" With a dramatic and exaggerated slap, he caused Wang Tao's head to loll to one side, and the bandages on his wounds started to seep with a yellowish antiseptic liquid.
Ling Meixue's fingernails dug deep into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks. The Wang family had never shown any fear towards her position on the board of directors or her family lineage before. This sudden and overwhelming display of terror hinted at the existence of something far more menacing and powerful lurking in the shadows. What unseen force or person was pulling the strings and making these once-tyrannical figures grovel at her feet?
"Who exactly taught you this painful lesson?" The question hung in the air like a deadly guillotine blade, waiting to fall and reveal the truth.
Wang Fujiang's lips, salty with tears, parted slightly as he prepared to speak. "It was a mysterious figure... someone who effortlessly dismantled our entire empire while sipping tea. We are nothing more than insignificant ants beneath his powerful shoe. Please, spare our company and our family, and we will crawl and obey your every command, going only where you allow us to go."
"..."
The Veiled Patron
**Phantom of the Nocturnal Savior**
Ling Meixue stood there, completely spellbound at the mention of her mysterious benefactor who had been operating in the shadows. Could it be that some otherworldly and spectral forces were truly the ones pulling the strings to ensure the salvation of her corporate empire?
"Forgiveness might be extended," she declared with a chilling and precise tone, "but I intend to acquire that land through legitimate and merit-based means. Put an end to your devious and underhanded schemes, Mr Wang. If you do that, I will consider it a display of sufficient magnanimity on my part. As for your so-called act of philanthropy..." Her perfectly manicured, lacquered nail tapped disdainfully on the contract in front of her. "Spare me from your melodramatic theatrics."
Lying prostrate in front of her imposing mahogany desk, Wang Fujiang, the once-feared "Leviathan of Jiangzhou," now found himself reduced to a mere supplicant, a shadow of his former self. His outlandish proposal—offering two billion yuan in exchange for a meager 1% equity stake in the Junli Group—went far beyond the realm of normal business logic. It was a clear manifestation of his primal fear, a desperate attempt to curry favor and appease the unknown entity that had brought him to his knees. The land deed and the financing agreement trembled in his grasp, as if they were ancient sacrificial scrolls, heavy with the weight of his desperation.
"By the spirits of our ancestors..." His forehead touched the cold marble floor in a rhythmic and repetitive gesture of obeisance, each thud a poignant reminder of the shame that now clung to his once-proud dynasty. Behind him, his son Wang Kai mirrored his father's abasement, their former air of arrogance and dominance now replaced by the sweat-stained collars of humiliation.
Ling's stiletto heel hovered just above the parchment, as if poised to strike. Misinterpreting her momentary hesitation as a sign of mercantile greed, the tycoon spoke up, his voice rasping through his cracked lips. "Three billion yuan! And the share percentage remains the same!" The proposition hung in the air like a gilded dagger, alluring in its lavishness but also laced with the palpable fear of the unseen colossus that seemed to be watching over and protecting Ling's business.
**Shadowplay of Power**
"Tell me the name of my mysterious benefactor who helped me in the night," she commanded, the steam rising from her chrysanthemum tea creating an atmosphere that was as intense as the heat of an interrogation lamp. Wang's watery eyes flickered towards the courtyard outside, where Gu Chen was performing elaborate pirouettes on his bicycle, his cardigan flapping in the wind like a carefree banner. The shrewd patriarch choked back the truth that was on the tip of his tongue, convinced that his tongue would be severed before the sun set if he dared to reveal the identity of the powerful figure.
"The powerful person... has forbidden me from revealing their identity," he whispered, his voice carrying the solemn weight of ancient inscriptions found in sealed tombs.
As Ling's pen slashed across the agreements, signing her approval, Wang's mournful wail rose in volume, reaching a crescendo that was almost operatic in its expression of gratitude. After performing three more ritual kowtows, the disgraced magnates scurried away like banished court eunuchs, their departure marked by the symbolic act of a severed jade pendant being left behind.
**Requiem of Loyalties**
Her executive suite was now filled with a newfound sense of revived alliances. Former contractors who had once betrayed her, much like Judas, were now presenting her with platinum-plated non-disclosure agreements. Rival CEOs, who had once been her adversaries, had now transformed into obsequious petitioners, eager to curry her favor. The stock graphs of Junli Group shot up like the rising smoke of funerary incense, a sign of the company's newfound success. Yet, with each upward tick of the graphs, Ling's sense of triumph soured.
Through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, she watched Gu Chen's absurd and almost comical bicycle performance, a display that seemed both whimsical and enigmatic. He was an enigma, a man whose crazy grin concealed either the benevolent hand of a divine patron or the sinister influence of some Lovecraftian force pulling the strings. The paradox troubled her deeply: had she truly risen to become the newest queen on the corporate chessboard of China... or was she merely the most exquisitely crafted piece, being moved around at the will of some unseen power?
The Unseen Guardian
While the widely accepted wisdom in the business world regarded the Ling clan as a cautious and reliable investment choice, not a single soul could have foreseen their audacious and unexpected victory over the powerful Wang dynasty. This momentous upheaval was like a seismic tremor that sent the equities of Junli Group hurtling upwards into the stratosphere, reaching dizzying heights.
*Rap-rap-rap!*
The sharp, staccato sound of knocking on the stately oaken door shattered the serene silence that had filled the room.
"Come in," Ling Meixue's voice rang out, clear and authoritative.
Gu Chen seemed to materialize out of thin air, carrying a delicate celadon vessel overflowing with a bountiful assortment of tropical fruits. "Your morning meal is ready, my self-disciplined and noble queen," he announced with a hint of a playful smile.
Ling Meixue's perfectly lacquered nails froze in mid-air as she stared at him in surprise. "By what mysterious means did you manage to break into this executive sanctum?" she demanded, her tone laced with suspicion.
"By ascending through a vertical route," he retorted quickly, his fingertips lightly brushing against the smooth mahogany surface where the security keypads, which should have been softly humming, were conspicuously absent.
Her eyes, as dark and intense as obsidian, narrowed as she recalled Wang Fujiang's trembling confession: *"Mysterious financiers emptied our investment portfolios last night."* Was this just a coincidence? The desperate pleas she had made to her syndicate allies in the dead of night flashed through her mind like a series of rapid-fire images. Yet, here was this uninvited guest, slipping through the corporate security firewalls as effortlessly as smoke seeping through the bars of a prison cell.
"The Wang conglomerate suffered a massive loss of nine figures before dawn," she probed, her vermilion lips pressing together tightly. "It was like a financial neutron strike, completely devastating."
Gu Chen arranged the persimmons on the table with the precision of a master chess player moving his pieces. "Why don't we talk about the terms of the dowry instead? I'm more than happy to accept payment in the form of marital affection," he suggested, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
In a fit of anger, Ling Meixue grabbed the velvet cushion from the chaise longue and hurled it at him like a ballistic missile. "Your delusions of grandeur are so out of control that you need some serious medical treatment!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with irritation.
For the span of three heartbeats, she entertained the wild and almost insane hypothesis that this enigmatic man could be the one orchestrating the financial downfall of the Wang conglomerate using nothing more than a smartphone. But then, her rational mind reasserted itself. No ordinary person, especially an outsider, could wield such immense and mysterious financial power. Unless...
"*Little cat*," he cooed softly, using a tender childhood endearment, "even your skepticism has a certain sweetness to it."
Ling Meixue massaged the pressure points on her temples, trying to ease the growing headache. "Meet me at noon in the Garment District. And put an end to these childish and annoying advances," she ordered, her voice firm.
"Going shopping for matching fashionable clothes? How very much like a married couple," he quipped, a teasing lilt in his voice.
In a swift and furious motion, she kicked off one of her stiletto heels, which flew through the air like a falcon's talon and embedded itself into the teak paneling just as his shadow seemed to dissolve into thin air.
"Cherish these coy rejections while you can," his deep baritone voice echoed through the marble halls, "because our marital bed will turn your shyness and reserve into passionate ecstasy—regardless of any perceived mediocrity in your physical appearance."
The frosty and tense silence that he left behind crackled with the weight of unanswered questions and unresolved mysteries.
"..."
The Veiled Redeemer
Ling Meixue, consumed by a seething vexation, launched her remaining stiletto towards Gu Chen with a forceful throw. Nevertheless, he skillfully sidestepped the hurtling missile, a rakish smirk gracing his lips as he did so.
"Until noon, my beloved bride," he murmured in a dulcet tone, the saccharine mockery in his voice resonating and reverberating through the corridor as he made his unhurried withdrawal.
As she observed his figure gradually fade from sight, she found herself ensnared in a dilemma, torn between her escalating exasperation and a reluctant, grudging hint of amusement. Abruptly, the piercing ring of her smartphone shattered the otherwise serene stillness of the chamber. Her eyes swiftly darted to the caller ID, and without hesitation, she brought the device to her ear to answer.
"Xue'er," Zhang Xiaotian, her long-standing academic admirer, commenced speaking with the ingenuous earnestness characteristic of a collegiate. "I mobilized my network of associates last night in an endeavor to penetrate the financial infrastructure of the Tengyuan Group and..."
"Xiaotian!" Ling Meixue interjected, her voice brimming with effusive and bubbling gratitude. "You are truly remarkable! Their market valuation has vanished into thin air overnight. It has resulted in a colossal loss, amounting to billions of yuan!"
"Wh-what?" The stammer in his voice laid bare his utter bewilderment. "The... the stocks actually..."
"They plummeted precipitously! How on earth did your cadre of hackers manage to breach the impregnable financial stronghold of the Wang dynasty? I am truly beholden to you. We must definitely have dinner to commemorate this momentous occasion!"
The ensuing silence was fraught with a palpable sense of cognitive dissonance. Zhang Xiaotian's cyber incursion had been an abject failure, repelled by impenetrable security barriers. This starkly contradicted Ling Meixue's jubilant recounting of the events. Yet, driven by avarice, he chose to turn a blind eye to the truth and instead concurred. "I was merely... fulfilling my part to support your ambitions," he uttered, his throat constricting slightly as he voiced the falsehood. "My affections for you, you have always been aware..."
"I have just received a summons to the boardroom," she said, deftly deflecting the conversation. A delicate blush spread across her cheekbones. After terminating the call, she sat there, lost in contemplation. He was meant to be her solitary ally in this corporate skirmish, yet...
The sense of dissonance grew more pronounced. His expression of bewilderment was far more conspicuous than any indication of achievement.
Her computer monitor flickered as it showcased the breaking news: **"Tengyuan Empire Crumbles: Patriarch Wang Abdicates Throne."** A financial cataclysm was unfolding before her very eyes—equities were decimated, alliances were irrevocably sundered, and the sudden retirement of the business magnate was shrouded in whispers and veiled allusions to "shadow operatives."
Her immaculately manicured nail tapped in a rhythmic cadence on the polished mahogany desk. Considering Zhang Xiaotian's relatively modest background and capabilities, it was patently evident that he could not possibly have been the mastermind behind this comprehensive financial decimation of the formidable Wang conglomerate.
Had she misdirected her gratitude?
...
The Unexpected Role
### **I. The "Wife" Who Came to Pick Him Up**
As the midday sun cast a warm, golden glow over the corporate district, employees streamed out through the glass doors, resembling worker ants leaving their bustling colony. The security team, dressed in their neatly pressed uniforms, emerged as well. Wang Hu, the leader of the security squad, caught sight of Ling Meixue's tall and elegant figure standing near the entrance.
- **"Sister-in-law, are you here to pick up Brother Chen?"** Wang Hu asked with a wide grin that spread from ear to ear, a playful and mischievous glint in his tone.
- Ling Meixue's delicate features, as smooth as porcelain, remained expressionless. However, a single arched eyebrow subtly revealed her annoyance at being addressed in such a familiar, familial way.
- A chorus of light-hearted and respectful greetings came from the guards:
- **"Sister-in-law!"**
- **"Brother Chen is so lucky—his beautiful wife has come to pick him up in person!"**
Just a few days ago, these very men had addressed her with rigid formality, calling her *"President Ling".* Now, the term *"sister-in-law"* rolled off their tongues with practised ease, as if they had secretly rehearsed this new way of addressing her.
Gu Chen sauntered through the revolving doors with a confident swagger. His sleeveless shirt revealed his well-muscled, corded forearms. With a mock-threatening kick, he made Wang Hu stumble. **"Go away and get your lunch. My dear wife needs my company for some fashion advice!"**
Wolf whistles and enthusiastic applause broke out among the group. **"You're amazing, Brother Chen!"**
The scepticism they had felt earlier remained unspoken in the air. How could this lively and unpredictable man have managed to win over Jiangzhou's so-called "Ice Queen"? Yet, here she was, a living testament to the change. Her Louboutin high heels tapped an impatient rhythm against the marble floor.
Ling Meixue's icy gaze was so cold that it could have instantly frozen a glass of champagne. **"What kind of wild stories have you been telling this time?"**
Gu Chen's smirk grew wider, looking like a pirate who had just admired his plundered treasures. **"I just casually mentioned that my beloved bride-to-be is insistent on dressing her precious diamond, which is me, in the most suitable outfits. Isn't that right, *mamacita?"**
---
### **II. The Luxury Mall Encounter**
Inside the grand, cathedral-like atrium of Jiangzhou's most prestigious luxury shopping mall, Ling Meixue maintained a distance of about three paces from Gu Chen. However, Gu Chen closed the gap with the determined and stealthy movements of a panther, his body heat cutting through the cool air conditioning.
Then, a voice that grated on the ears, like nails scratching against velvet, rang out.
**"Meixue?"**
They both turned around at the same time to see an oddly matched couple. The woman was a former classmate of Ling Meixue's, and her smile never quite reached her eyes, which were framed by long, mink-like eyelashes. The man, wearing glasses and with a somewhat plump build, looked at Ling Meixue with a hungry and lustful gaze, as if devouring her figure with his eyes.
**"It's been ages since we last met, but you still look like the reincarnation of Aphrodite!"** he exclaimed, beads of sweat forming on his receding hairline.
Ling Meixue's expression turned frosty. **"You lost the right to address me informally when you leaked our project blueprints, Mr Zhao."**
Without taking her eyes off the man, she made a move that left Gu Chen slightly taken aback. Her slender arm intertwined with his, like ivy wrapping around a sturdy oak tree. As she pressed closer to him, her rosewater-scented perfume surrounded him, and she got closer to him than a shadow to an object. **"Let me introduce my *husband*,"** she said.
**"Husband?!"**
The word seemed to explode in the air, filled with the sweet scent of perfume. Mr Zhao's jowls quivered in surprise. Ling Meixue's socialite friend even dropped her expensive Birkin bag. Even Gu Chen, known for his unshakeable composure, was briefly caught off guard—until Ling Meixue's soft lips brushed against his stubbled cheek, leaving a mark of cherry-blossom lipstick.
**"Fiancée, to be more accurate,"** Ling Meixue corrected, her voice as sweet as honey but with a hidden edge, like a dagger sheathed in silk.
Gu Chen let out a deep, rumbling laugh, and his arm wrapped around her slender wasp waist. *Well now,* he thought to himself, *this little act just got a lot more interesting and complex.*
"..."
The Hypocrites Exposed
### **I. Old Wounds Reopened**
The man wearing glasses turned out to be Yang Sen, the heir of a powerful real estate dynasty, and he was five years older than Ling Meixue. His arm was casually draped around Tang Meng. Once Ling Meixue's close confidante, Tang Meng now presented herself as a gilded accessory, exuding an artificial and overstated glamour.
- **The Betrayal Revisited:**
- During their college days, Yang had pursued Ling Meixue with an exaggerated and passionate fervor, parading an impressive fleet of luxurious sedans and brandishing property deeds in front of her. Despite his ostentatious displays, Ling remained indifferent, like an ice queen unmoved by his advances. Even when her fledgling startup was on the verge of bankruptcy, she steadfastly refused to be ensnared in his gilded cage of wealth and privilege.
- At that time, Tang Meng, who was Ling's trusted financial assistant, had whispered conspiratorially, "That man is a tasteless upstart. Only those as shallow as barnyard fowls would be attracted to his gaudy and showy displays of wealth."
- However, within a short period of time, Tang Meng disappeared without a trace, like the morning mist dissipating in the sun. She not only absconded with five million yuan but also shattered Ling Meixue's business dreams and their once-cherished friendship.
- **The Theatre of Irony:**
- Now, Tang Meng preened herself, leaning against Yang Sen's shoulder, a sneer curling her crimson lips. "Look at how the mighty have fallen! Is this scruffy street rat the new object of your romantic interest?" she taunted.
- Ling Meixue's icy composure became even more pronounced, and her words were laced with a frosty fury. "Your criticism holds no weight, you thief. Did the millions you stole fund this pathetic attempt at a comeback?"
---
### **II. The Colosseum of Vanity**
Yang Sen's cold, reptilian gaze slowly scanned over Gu Chen's exposed biceps. "Can't your low-life lover even afford a shirt with sleeves? Or is this crude and barbaric display your new sense of style?" he sneered.
- **Provocation's Dance:**
- Tang Meng put on an elaborate show, pretending to brush away imaginary dirt from Yang Sen's expensive Brioni jacket. "Be careful, my dear. Poverty can be contagious," she said with a haughty look.
- Gu Chen let out a deep laugh that rumbled like distant thunder. "Any fool can shower women with jewels and luxury. The true art lies in making a goddess willingly shower you with her treasures," he retorted with confidence.
- **The Emperor's Naked Truth:**
- When Ling Meixue noticed Yang Sen's sudden pale complexion, Gu Chen whispered in her ear, "The peacock's beautiful feathers hide its broken claws. His so-called power and influence have been decaying since his youth."
- A faint blush of coral colored Ling Meixue's porcelain cheeks. "You're incredibly crude!" she exclaimed, though there was a hint of suppressed laughter trembling beneath her words.
---
### **III. Masks Shattered**
Gu Chen's merciless analysis went beyond just exposing Yang Sen's inadequacies.
- **Tang's Carnival of Deceit:**
- "Your circle is full of deceit and betrayal," he revealed. "She's juggling multiple lovers like a circus performer handling dangerous knives. There are probably three or even four of them, all financing this absurd and grotesque charade of hers."
- Ling Meixue's anger gradually transformed into a sense of tragic understanding. "So, the thief has become the victim of theft, and the one trying to catch the thief... has ended up being the ultimate fool?" she mused.
- **The Coup de Grâce:**
- Always one to provoke, Gu Chen added, "By the way, my precious empress. Those monthly periods that leave you bedridden and in pain? This humble doctor can offer you a permanent solution."
- In a fit of rage, Ling Meixue hurled her Jimmy Choo stiletto at him, and it whistled past his temple. "Die, you despicable wretch!" she shouted.
"..."
The Luxury Store Showdown
### **I. The Fourth Floor: Pantheon of Privilege**
The fourth floor of the mall emerged as a gilded sanctuary, a veritable Olympus dedicated to the opulence of masculinity. It housed the hallowed and prestigious stores of Armani, Gucci, and Prada. In this exclusive realm, a single shirt crafted from the finest Egyptian cotton demanded a price that exceeded the entire annual income of a provincial clerk, a testament to the extreme luxury on display.
**Jiangzhou's Chasm of Fortune:**
- The average monthly wage in Jiangzhou, standing at ¥5,000, was notably higher than the national average. However, within the confines of this luxurious floor, a leather jacket priced at ¥10,000 was considered a mere impulse buy for the wealthy patrician class. Even the security detail under Ling Meixue's employ received a princely salary of ¥5,000 per month. This made the sneers directed at Gu Chen's attire by the store clerks an absurdity of cosmic proportions, highlighting the disconnect between their judgment and the reality of the situation.
**The Vestment Vigilantes:**
A sales associate, with eyebrows that had been surgically enhanced to an exaggerated arch, looked down upon Gu Chen's sleeveless security uniform. "Monsieur, our most basic garments start at a price of ¥10,000..." she said haughtily.
Gu Chen's response was laced with a mock solemnity. "Only ten thousand yuan? Such pedestrian and ordinary pricing. Come, my dear—we'll look for more appropriate overpricing elsewhere," he retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
---
### **II. The Velvet Veneer**
Ling Meixue strode past the marble columns with a determined and angry gait, the sharp clicks of her stiletto heels echoing through the store like the cracks of gunshots. "Stop with your theatrical displays. You will put on proper and civilized attire, even if I have to dress you myself," she commanded, her voice firm.
**Beneath the Brocade:**
- The clerk's stage-whispered comment of "Social climber..." completely overlooked the paradox right in front of them. Gu Chen's so-called "threadbare" undershirt was, in fact, a precious relic from Savile Row, meticulously hand-stitched for a deposed member of royalty. It had been appraised at a value of over ¥8 million at Christie's, a renowned auction house.
- His physique, which could be aptly described as "a living study of Michelangelo's marble sculptures," was so imposing and statuesque that even a suit priced at ¥30,000 seemed like a humble peasant's garment when worn by him. This remarkable sight ignited a flurry of covert iPhone photography from the starstruck store staff, who were in awe of his presence.
**The Ice Queen's Wrath**
When a junior associate simpered and said, "We have more... *exclusive* collections available for our more discerning patrons," Ling Meixue's usually composed demeanor shattered like a delicate piece of Baccarat crystal dropped on the floor.
"Since when do boutiques have the audacity to choose and curate their clients? Go and fetch your manager immediately—right now," she demanded, her voice cold and authoritative.
**Luxury Market Insights**: Hermès, Louis Vuitton, and Chanel dominate the luxury markets through strategic price hikes and by positioning their products as exclusive and highly desirable. Certain heritage pieces, such as Hermès bags and Rolex watches, have the unique characteristic of appreciating on the resale market, unlike the majority of luxury goods, which typically depreciate over time.
"..."
To be continuous…