70s factory beauty, transform villain cubs to become rich

He Yuxiang took out a dagger and looked at him indifferently: "If you want to die sooner, I can send you on your way."

Yang Weibin was panting heavily, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was trembling like a leaf.

After a long while, he slowly raised his eyes, the fierceness between his brows still lingering, looking extremely sinister. His dark pupils stared at him, and without any rhyme or reason, he said softly, "Enjoy the rest of your time to the fullest."

"No, don't go... Ah—"

Yang Weibin felt as if he had been stabbed in the shoulder.

He Yuxiang pulled out a dagger: "If you insist on adding some color to your final career, I don't mind."

Yang Weibin was in so much pain that he curled up and rolled around on the cold cement floor.

He Yuxiang clapped his hands: "Find someone to stop the bleeding and let him live for another six months."

Dusk came quickly.

The light in the warehouse was gradually drawn away, and darkness seeped into every corner like ink.

The temperature dropped sharply as the sun set; Yang Weibin estimated it was probably only seven or eight degrees Celsius.

He had a wound on his shoulder, but to get warmer, he ran back and forth in the empty barn, trying to warm himself up.

But half an hour later, he collapsed to the ground from exhaustion. His sweat quickly turned cold and clung to his skin like an ice film, making him even colder.

I could only hide in a sheltered corner and curl myself up into a ball.

But the concrete floor kept absorbing the heat from his body, and the chill seeped in from the ground, from the walls, and from all directions.

Yang Weibin felt his psychological defenses crumbling bit by bit, and he broke down, shouting for help at the hole in the roof.

But the place was too remote, and all that answered him was the sound of the wind and the muffled crashing of waves against the distant rocks.

The cold hadn't subsided when my stomach started cramping again.

He had a poor appetite these past few days, and the last time he ate was yesterday at noon, when he hurriedly ate a plate of char siu rice at a tea restaurant before the bankruptcy liquidation meeting.

For the next thirty-odd hours, he only drank a few sips of water.

Already suffering from excessive blood loss, coupled with cold and hunger, Yang Weibin felt his vision begin to blur and his fingers tremble uncontrollably.

Cold and hunger, these two simplest physiological sensations, have become the most sophisticated instruments of torture at this moment.

Late at night, the temperature dropped to its lowest point.

Yang Weibin's consciousness drifted between lucidity and confusion.

He hallucinated: he saw the leather chair in his office, the whiskey in the temperature-controlled wine cabinet, and the soft down comforter in the Peninsula Hotel suite.

Then the screen shattered, and we returned to reality.

Around five in the morning, he did something he couldn't understand himself: to fill his stomach, he started rummaging through the blackened burlap sacks.

The sack contained old, hardened grain residue that smelled musty.

He picked out a small piece with his fingers, held it to his nose and smelled it; the sour, rotten smell made him gag.

But the burning sensation in my stomach became more intense.

Home

He stared at the moldy grain for a full ten minutes.

My fingers trembled as I brought it to my lips.

“I am Yang Weibin…I am the boss of Weibin International…I cannot…”

Before he could finish speaking, he stuffed the object into his mouth.

Rough, sour, and with a strong musty smell.

He chewed twice, trying to swallow, but his throat reflexively contracted, and he coughed violently, vomiting everything up.

The vomit, mixed with stomach acid and a bit of mold, splattered onto his expensive silk shirt.

He stared at the stain and suddenly laughed.

Laughter echoed, distorted, and eerie in the empty barn. The laughter turned into tears.

Yang Weibin began to hate his father for scheming against He Yuxiang...

If he hadn't schemed against their family, he would still be the powerful and influential Boss Yang today.

But no one gave him another chance.

*
He Yuxiang returned once and saw Yang Weibin's disheveled state, then left without any hesitation.

After returning to Guangdong Province, he bought a lot of sacrificial items and went to pay respects to his maternal grandparents and parents.

While burning money for them, they told them, "Yang Weibin is going to hell soon. Remember to keep a close eye on him. There are four of us in the family, plus grandpa and grandma, making six in total. All of you, put in your best effort and teach them a lesson, avenge yourselves..."

The wind was blowing the leaves hard, making a rustling sound all over the mountain, yet it gently enveloped him.

Unaware of anything amiss, He Yuxiang told his parents, "This year, China is participating in the Olympics, and Xiaoyu will most likely be participating as an archer. Whether she wins a medal or not, it's already a great honor for our family to have someone participate in the Olympics. But please pray for her. I hope she wins a medal no matter what."

He Yuxiang always hoped that his younger sister could achieve honors, so that her hard work going to the training base alone when she was so young would not have been in vain.

Assuming there is no...

That's great that she participated.

He Yuxiang sighed and then started talking about his aunt and uncle: "My aunt is currently undergoing reforms and is facing difficulties. You should keep an eye on her. If she makes a mistake, you should remind her. Never mind... you may not be as reliable as her. Although she is usually a bit unconventional, she has never made a mistake when she is working."

And then there's my uncle. He's been doing research, always saying it's confidential. Actually, I don't know exactly what he's doing. Please pray for him; if his research succeeds, our China will become more and more confident, and we won't have to be so humble when buying materials.

After burning all the paper money, He Yuxiang felt tired from squatting and talking, so he sat cross-legged and chatted with them: "Let me tell you about Pingping and Youyou. To be honest, I had a much harder time than these two little brats when I was very young. When they were very young, I should have envied them or been jealous of them, but looking at how little they were, I just hoped they would be better off."

You haven't met them yet. Pingping is a very smart girl. She's already publishing books, and not just any books. She's publishing a series that integrates law into stories. It's suitable for men, women, young and old. She's really amazing.

Youyou likes to play, but everyone in the family thinks it's fine. There's always someone who grows up carefree, right?

No one responded to him at the scene.

He Yuxiang added, "The reason I'm not jealous or envious is because we're being taken very, very well. You really don't need to worry."

……

He rambled on and on in the cemetery for most of the day.

He rambled on and on about all sorts of things.

Finally, he just told his family members to stay united and take good care of themselves.

After descending the mountain, He Yuxiang made a phone call to his aunt: "I've already met Yang Weibin."

"It's good to see you. What's the matter?"

Chen Qing was curious.

He Yuxiang hesitated for a long time before confessing, "It means making him live a life of unbearable suffering for half a year, and then letting him take care of himself in the end."

Chen Qing: "..."

Suddenly she thought of something.

Before she transmigrated, He Yuxiang seemed to have suffered six months of pure torment.

"As long as you handle it well."

"Ah."

"Your uncle and I applied to go abroad, but our applications were rejected."

"Rejected?!"

He Yuxiang's tone was surprised.

I wasn't too surprised.

His aunt and uncle both wield considerable power, and the whole family going to America sounds incredibly dangerous. (End of Chapter)