Chapter 013: I’ll Crush Him Myself!

Chapter 013: I’ll Crush Him Myself!

In the office, Li Ruobing hung up the phone and went to fetch her coat. “Come on. You’re coming with me to see my brother. We’ll tell him face-to-face.”

“Sure.” Wu Chen rose to his feet.

“Oh—wait.” Li Ruobing had just draped the coat over her arm when she spun back around. Wu Chen was already heading for the door, so she stepped in front of him, reached up, and straightened his collar.

“When you meet my brother, remember this: no matter what he asks, you never admit you’re fake. Even if he threatens you. You are my boyfriend. Understood?” Li Ruobing said, her tone deadly serious.

“Got it.” Wu Chen smiled.

Li Ruobing was determined not to repeat history.

She had gone through three fake boyfriends before.

The first had taken his own life.

The second had been framed and thrown in prison, his family ruined.

The third, after trouble hit his household, had cracked under the pressure and vanished on his own.

The trouble was that everyone knew Li Ruobing’s boyfriends were fake. Ding Ruilong knew. The Li family knew. Even her own younger brother knew.

So no one cared whether her fake boyfriends lived or died.

Alone, Li Ruobing found it nearly impossible to keep anyone safe.

But when it came to protecting people, Young Master Li was the one with real power—power that rivaled Ding Ruilong’s own.

Young Master Li, whose given name was Li Ruotai, was twenty-six, the eldest grandson of the Li family’s main branch, and the most doted-upon member of the household. He could command most of the family’s resources at will. In terms of standing within the Li family, Li Ruotai stood in the heavens while Li Ruobing dwelled underground.

Yet brother and sister were only a year apart in age. They had grown up side by side, attending the same primary school, middle school, and high school.

Their bond ran deep. Li Ruobing had been fierce since childhood, and when it came to shielding her younger brother, she spared no effort—throwing herself between him and every schoolyard brawl. When it came to beating him herself, she spared no effort there either.

The result was that Li Ruotai now both revered and feared her. In four simple words: deep sibling devotion.

As for the old man’s plan to marry Li Ruobing off to Ding Ruilong, Li Ruotai opposed it.

But he was only a junior in the family, and his opposition counted for nothing. Nor did he share his sister’s nerve—her willingness to trade curses with the old man, to exchange slaps with an uncle.

Precisely because everyone knew her boyfriends were fake, mere shields hauled out to deflect trouble, Li Ruotai never bothered to treat them as people at all. To him, they were nothing but tools.

And because he never took them seriously, Li Ruobing lost a great deal of support she might otherwise have had.

So this time, she wanted her fourth fake boyfriend to feel real. Compared to her first three, Wu Chen was something else entirely. What set him apart most was that he knew everything—every hidden detail.

Her previous three had known nothing.

Nothing about the wager. Nothing about Ding Ruilong’s methods.

Each of them had believed he’d stumbled into some impossible stroke of luck, catching Li Ruobing’s eye—even as she scolded them like dirt behind closed doors, even as they weren’t permitted so much as to touch her hand. And still they’d reveled in it, dreaming that one day she might come to truly want them.

Fools, all of them.

This time, Li Ruobing had resolved, things would be different.

She wanted no one to see through the act. She wanted the whole world to believe she truly had a boyfriend.

Only if her brother believed she’d found real love would he throw his full strength behind her—rather than being torn between the family and her.

“Those clothes are far too plain.” Li Ruobing looked him over, head to toe.

“Buy me new ones, then. Your treat,” Wu Chen said.

“Fine.” She smiled.

She looped her arm through his and walked out.

The door swung open.

The bodyguards fell in behind them.

Downstairs.

The whole office erupted into chaos.

Employees on every floor of Huancai Fashion watched their beautiful, icy CEO descend the stairs with her arm hooked through a man’s. They’d known she’d dated before, sure—but the CEO had always seemed almost frigidly cold, never once showing the slightest intimacy.

What in the world was happening now?

Li Ruobing, Wu Chen, and eight bodyguards—ten in total—rode the elevator down to the underground garage.

Three cars pulled up at once.

A Cadillac Escalade in front, another behind, and a Maybach sandwiched between them.

They climbed in.

And set off.

—

Crown Entertainment Club.

“He made you cut off your own finger?” Young Master Li’s expression had already curdled into something close to savage.

“Yes, Young Master Li. He knows the underworld’s rules cold. Felt like it wasn’t the first time he’d borrowed your name to swindle people.” Bearded Liu spoke carefully, choosing every word.

Since Bearded Liu had been the one directly involved, Crooked Zhao let him tell it himself, and Bearded Liu recounted the whole affair honestly, without holding anything back.

The veins on Young Master Li’s forehead bulged. Fury radiated off him.

What enraged him wasn’t the severed finger—Bearded Liu wasn’t even his own man, just an underling several rungs removed. What truly set him off was how far this impostor had gone in borrowing his name.

If word of this got out, Young Master Li would lose face entirely.

Everyone in Donghai’s underworld feared the name Li. Now some nobody was using it to stir up trouble—turning him into a laughingstock of the highest order.

“At Wang Zhuangyuan’s bar?” Young Master Li asked, his face like stone.

“Yes.” Bearded Liu nodded.

Young Master Li picked up his phone and dialed. “Zhuangyuan. Come to my place.”

A little over ten minutes later, Wang Zhuangyuan arrived with his men in tow.

He passed the bodyguards’ inspection, stepped inside, and nodded first to Young Master Li. Then he spotted Crooked Zhao, and his expression darkened at once. “Guaizi’s here too? Good—I was looking for you. Your people stole my car. Didn’t expect to run into you here of all places.”

“What do you mean, my people stole your car?” Crooked Zhao’s face changed color. He braced himself on his cane and rose, agitated. “Cut the bullshit! Who the hell stole your car?”

He wasn’t about to shoulder that blame. Not with Young Master Li watching—the last thing he wanted was to be pinned with “breaking the peace.”

Wang Zhuangyuan had said it so bluntly precisely because Young Master Li was in the room.

“That man and woman at my bar last night—weren’t they friends of yours?” Wang Zhuangyuan adjusted his glasses, voice cold.

“Those two from last night?” Crooked Zhao blinked, then realized at once what had happened. A misunderstanding.

“Zhuangyuan, sit. Might be a misunderstanding here. I called you over because I wanted to ask—those two from yesterday, do you know them? Regulars at your place?” Young Master Li asked.

“A misunderstanding?” Wang Zhuangyuan froze too. Seeing that Young Master Li already knew of the pair, his mind raced. He sat and laid out the previous night’s events from start to finish.

Around midnight, he’d rushed back to the bar with his men, only to find Bearded Liu waiting there with his own crew—one finger severed, hand clutched over the wound.

He’d braced for a fight. Instead, Bearded Liu apologized first, all politeness and deference, calling him Brother Zhuangyuan, promising to cover every loss.

Given that attitude, Wang Zhuangyuan hadn’t wanted to escalate either. He’d cursed the man out a bit and let him go.

Afterward, he’d questioned his staff about what had actually happened.

They told him it had been a young man and woman—no one knew how the conflict with Bearded Liu’s crew had started, but the young man had struck with brutal precision.

The fight had nearly escalated further, but then the young man made a phone call and handed the phone to Bearded Liu.

At the time, Bearded Liu had been surrounded by his own men, and none of the staff had dared get close enough to hear. All they knew was that the call had gone to Crooked Zhao, and that Bearded Liu had addressed the voice on the other end as “Boss.”

After that call, Bearded Liu’s nerve had broken entirely. He’d knelt and apologized to the pair, cut off his own finger, and that had been the end of it.

Having heard the full account, Wang Zhuangyuan had assumed the man and woman were relatives of Crooked Zhao’s, or perhaps some rich second-generation kids with a special connection to him—he’d even wondered, uncharitably, whether the young man might be Crooked Zhao’s illegitimate son.

None of it concerned him, though, so he hadn’t bothered digging further.

Then, just as he’d been about to leave with his men, he’d discovered his car was gone. His white Lamborghini.

He’d pulled the security footage from the bar’s entrance and found that the ones who’d driven off in it were the same man and woman who’d clashed with Bearded Liu.

Wang Zhuangyuan had meant to call Crooked Zhao and demand answers.

But he’d also wanted to catch the culprits first, so he could use it as leverage against Crooked Zhao later.

That morning, his men had located the car—only to lose it again. He’d since sent people combing the entire city for it.

Wang Zhuangyuan laid it all out, though naturally he kept his true intentions to himself. Everyone in the room understood them anyway. Not that it mattered now—that was no longer the point.

The room fell into a heavy silence.

Young Master Li lit a cigarette, drew on it, murder flickering in his eyes.

“Guaizi, what’s going on here?” Wang Zhuangyuan sensed something was off and murmured to Crooked Zhao.

“That man borrowed Young Master Li’s name. He said…” Crooked Zhao gave him the short version.

Wang Zhuangyuan understood everything now.

The sheer audacity of this man was staggering.

He’d injured Crooked Zhao’s people, stolen Wang Zhuangyuan’s car, and borrowed Young Master Li’s name—offending two bosses and one even bigger boss in a single stroke, making fools of half of Donghai’s underworld. Even a death wish didn’t usually run this deep.

“Find him. Find him, no matter what. I want him alive. Bring him to me. I’m going to… crush him myself!” Young Master Li ground the words out between his teeth.

“Don’t worry.”

“We’ll find him.”

Crooked Zhao and Wang Zhuangyuan answered as one.

Just then, a clatter of footsteps rose outside the door.

Through it, they could faintly make out the bodyguards calling in unison: “Eldest Miss!”

“My sister’s here. Go on, all of you,” Young Master Li said, rising to his feet. He stubbed out his cigarette too—he knew his sister couldn’t stand the smell of smoke.