Reborn not to be a beast of burden, I set the rules.

Ye Ming walked into the building, didn't look at the sign at the elevator entrance, and pressed the button directly.

The elevator doors opened, he stepped inside, and pressed the button for the fourth floor.

The elevator hummed as it went up, and his own shadow, expressionless, was reflected in the stainless steel door panel.

When I got to the fourth floor, the corridor was quiet. There was a gray carpet and several framed posters hanging on the walls.

The receptionist, sitting by the glass door, looked up, saw him, stood up, and greeted him with a smile: "Hello, may I ask...?"

Ye Ming didn't look at her, walked past her, and directly pushed open the door to Wang Deming's office.

Wang Deming sat at his desk, several folders spread out on it. He looked up and saw Ye Ming, his smile froze for a moment, but quickly returned to normal: "Little Ye's here? Where's Ruan Xing? Come, come, sit down, let me get you a glass of water..."

Ye Ming closed the door but didn't sit down. He took his phone out of his pocket, pulled out a photo, and showed the screen to Wang Deming.

"Manager Wang, Huasheng Network Technology's paid-in capital is empty." Ye Ming pushed the phone closer. "This address, 187 Zhujiang Road, was reported back in July for collecting franchise fees and running away. You can still find that post online."

Wang Deming's smile faded slightly, but not completely. He glanced at the screen, then at Ye Ming, his tone still warm: "Xiao Ye, what are you doing? Sit down and talk. Those things online are just our competitors smearing us. Our company is legitimate; we have a business license, tax registration certificate, and more..."

He pulled a document from the table and handed it to Ye Ming. Ye Ming didn't take it. He exited the photo session, started the recording, and placed the phone on the table.

Wang Deming's voice came through the phone: "...Founding member slots are limited. Pay five thousand yuan, and you'll become a co-founder of our project..."

This recording was made when Ye Ming came to the office last time. Wang Deming's hand froze in mid-air, his smile finally crumbling. He stared at his phone, silent for a few seconds, then looked up, his expression changing. It was no longer the warm smile from before; it was something between anger and threat.

"You're recording?" His voice turned somber.

"Manager Wang, five thousand yuan is not a small amount for a student." Ye Ming put away his phone, looked at him, and said, "I don't want to make a big deal out of this. You return the money, I'll delete the recording, and we'll be even."

Wang Deming leaned back in his chair, stared at him for a few seconds, and then suddenly laughed. This time, the laugh was different, tinged with disdain: "Xiao Ye, you're still too young. What good will it do to report this stuff? Let me tell you, our company has all the necessary permits. What kind of evidence is that recording? Find a lawyer and ask him. This is called surreptitious recording; even the court won't recognize it."

He stood up, walked around the table, and stood in front of Ye Ming. His tone softened, as if he were lecturing a younger person: "Listen to me, this project is real, it's just that the initial publicity was a bit exaggerated. Go back and tell Ruan Xing that the money has already been deposited and can't be refunded. But come to the briefing tomorrow and see for yourselves, then you'll understand..."

"Manager Wang," Ye Ming said without moving or dodging, "whose account did the money go into? Huasheng's account? An account with zero paid-in capital? Or your own pocket?"

Wang Deming's smile froze for a moment. He withdrew his hand, took half a step back, and his expression changed.

Ye Ming turned his phone screen around so Wang Deming could see it more clearly: "This address, 187 Zhujiang Road, was reported back in July. You've changed the company name and continued operating, but you haven't changed the address. That post online is still there; do you want me to find it and show it to you?"

Wang Deming stared at the screen without saying a word.

"Five thousand yuan is half a year's living expenses for a freshman." Ye Ming put away his phone, looked him in the eyes, and said, "You don't want to make a big deal out of this money, do you? The briefing is tomorrow, definitely at the hotel, at 2 pm. What if someone puts up a banner at the door that says 'Huasheng Network Technology, give me back my hard-earned money,' wouldn't that affect your business? Get a few reporters to cover it. Reporters know their way around Zhujiang Road."

He sat back down in his chair, tapped his fingers twice on the table, then stopped. After a while, he leaned back in his chair, sighed, and softened his tone, almost pleading: "Xiao Ye, listen to me, I've already submitted the money request. The finance department is going through the procedures; it's not like I can just give you a refund..."

"Then return the money that hasn't been reported yet to Ruan Xing first," Ye Ming interrupted him.

Wang Deming fell silent. He lowered his head and tapped his fingers twice more on the table. After a long while, he looked up, his expression shifting several times before finally forcing a bitter smile: "Xiao Ye, you're too ruthless."

He took an envelope from the drawer, counted out fifty hundred-dollar bills, and pushed it over.

Ye Ming didn't rush to take it. He glanced at the envelope, then at Wang Deming, took a piece of paper from his bag that was tucked into his notebook, and handed it over.

"This is a refund statement. You sign it and pay, and I'll delete the recording."

Wang Deming glanced down at the paper. There weren't many words on it; it was printed and titled "Refund Statement."

The message was very simple: Huasheng Network Technology Co., Ltd. received 10 yuan from Ruan Xing on October 9, 2009. After negotiation between both parties, the full amount will be refunded. Below were two blank lines: one for the company name and one for the date.

Wang Deming's face turned cold. He looked at the paper, then at Ye Ming, his tone becoming chilling: "Little Ye, what are you doing? Trying to give me leverage?"

Ye Ming remained expressionless, pushing the refund statement forward again: "If you don't sign, I'll go to the police station tomorrow. Recordings, photos, posts—I'll get everything. There are similar cases being investigated in Shanghai too; do you want me to help them make a connection?"

Wang Deming looked at him, his face alternating between pale and flushed. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then swallowed it back. He picked up the pen on the table, signed the refund statement, and threw the pen on the table.

Ye Ming picked up the refund statement, glanced at it to confirm that the signature and date were written, folded it neatly, and put it in his pocket. Then he picked up the envelope, counted the money—five thousand yuan—and put it in his pocket.

Wang Deming leaned back in his chair, staring at Ye Ming, and lowered his voice: "The recording has been deleted."

Ye Ming took out his phone from his pocket, found the recording in front of Wang Deming, and pressed the delete button. A "Confirm Delete" message popped up on the screen, and he clicked "OK".

Wang Deming stared at his fingers until the document disappeared before looking away.

Ye Ming put his phone in his pocket, walked to the door, and opened it.

The receptionist was still standing by the glass door, watching him, her lips moving but she didn't dare to speak. Ye Ming didn't turn around, walking towards the stairwell with steady, firm steps.

The stairwell was quiet, with only the sound of his own footsteps.

The sneakers clicked gently on the terrazzo floor, one step at a time, without rushing.

He touched the envelope in his pocket; it was a thick wad of cash, containing five thousand yuan.

The refund statement was folded and tucked into the notebook. Wang Deming's signature was messy, but still legible.

enough.

He paused as he rounded the corner between the third and fourth floors. The stairwell window was open, letting in warm sunlight that fell on the steps. He took a few steps down, then stopped again.

A person was standing at the corner of the stairs.

It's Shen Zhiyi.

What is she doing here?