Handong: Sha Li wants political achievements? I'll shut down the entire province.

The dark blue ink seeped into the confession.

The two tears that Hou Liangping shed shattered the Zhong family's last talisman.

Meanwhile, on the South Fourth Ring Road of Beijing.

In a budget hotel that costs 180 yuan per night.

The walls were covered in glaring mold, and the poor soundproofing allowed the crude snoring from next door to escape.

Zhong Xiaoai huddled on the hard single bed, clutching her old, worn-out spare phone tightly.

"Director Liu, I beg you!"

Her voice was hoarse, as if it had been sanded on sandpaper, and trembled uncontrollably.

"Liangping's been arrested already? Not even given a chance for probation? Could you please put in a good word for him?"

The crisp sound of a lighter came from the other end of the phone.

"Xiao Ai, it's not that your uncle doesn't want to help, but the higher-ups have given a strict order to investigate thoroughly."

Director Liu's tone was as cold as ice.

"I have to go to a meeting right away, so please don't call this number again to avoid any misunderstandings."

"Beep beep beep..."

A merciless dial tone struck Zhong Xiaoai's face like a sharp slap.

She gritted her teeth and, unwilling to give up, dialed her former "best friend's" number again.

"Hey? Qianqian, can you lend me some cash? All my cards are blocked..."

"Oh, Xiao Ai, what bad luck! I just signed my dog ​​up for a riding class, so I'm a bit short on cash."

The other person chuckled twice in a sarcastic tone.

"Your husband's in jail, so you'd better take care of yourself. Bye."

The phone screen went completely black.

Zhong Xiaoai slid down the edge of the bed and onto the composite floor covered with black spots, looking like a lump of mud.

The trees fell and the hozens scattered.

The Zhong family went bankrupt, her husband went to jail, and all the relatives and friends who used to line up to give her gifts now avoided her.

She struggled to her feet, her legs feeling weak, and stumbled into the cramped bathroom.

The dim vanity light flickered twice, illuminating a bloodless face.

My hair was tangled and oily, and fine lines appeared at the corners of my eyes.

Even the bags under my eyes are so heavy they look like they're about to fall onto my cheekbones.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Zhong Xiaoai suddenly felt a churning in her stomach.

I don't have money for cosmetic procedures, I don't have money for skincare products, and even the shampoo is a cheap, low-quality product provided free of charge by the hotel.

The privileges she was so proud of were nothing at all once the Zhong family's cloak was stripped away.

Power is illusory; capital is the knife that can crush a person!

In order to get Hou Liangping out of jail, and to give the Zhong family one last breath.

She had to beg that country bumpkin she used to despise the most.

Zhong Xiaoai took off the Cartier diamond-encrusted watch from her left wrist, the last one that wasn't confiscated.

I took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and stepped into the cold wind of Beijing.

Two hours later, at an underground pawnshop in Liulichang.

The fat boss crossed his legs and examined the watch closely with a magnifying glass.

"It's a nice watch, but it's hard to cash in these days."

The fat boss threw the watch on the counter and stretched out two thick, short fingers.

"Twenty thousand yuan. Pawned as a dead loan, not redeemed."

"This is robbery!"

Zhong Xiaoai's eyes widened in surprise, and she slammed her hands on the glass counter.

"This watch originally cost over 300,000 yuan! I've only worn it for less than six months!"

The fat boss sneered, picked up his teacup, and blew away the foam.

"Miss Zhong, times have changed. Do you still think you're that rich heiress from Xishan?"

He curled his lip, his eyes full of snobbery.

"Your accounts are all frozen, are you in a hurry to get cash to buy a plane ticket and run away? Here's 20,000, take it or leave it."

Zhong Xiaoai bit her lower lip hard, the rusty taste of blood spreading in her mouth.

She closed her eyes and forced out a single word through clenched teeth.

"when."

Holding the wad of cash she had earned, she headed straight for Daxing Airport.

She was once a wealthy young lady from Beijing who always traveled in first class and even used chartered planes.

At this moment, the only option is to buy the cheapest red-eye flight and squeeze into the economy class, which is filled with unpleasant smells.

The cabin was so cramped that it was hard to breathe.

Next to me sat a middle-aged man with a beer belly. He had just taken off his shoes, and a strong smell of foot odor assaulted my senses.

The man tore open a bowl of pickled cabbage instant noodles and slurped it down in big mouthfuls.

A few drops of soup splashed onto Zhong Xiaoai's high-end trench coat, which cost tens of thousands of yuan.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, young lady."

The man wiped his greasy sleeve, his face trembling with laughter.

"This seat is too cramped, could you move over to the side?"

Zhong Xiaoai was wearing a mask, and the acid in her stomach kept refluxing upwards.

She gripped the armrest of the seat so tightly that her nails almost broke off.

She turned her head and looked at the rolling clouds outside the porthole.

Tears finally welled up and silently streamed down her cheeks, landing on her clothes.

humiliation.

Humiliation that runs deep in the bones.

Yan Qingfeng, whom she despised as a peasant and a local tyrant.

Now, however, she has become the King of Hell, who controls the life and death of her entire family.

Two hours later, the plane landed in Jingzhou City, Handong Province.

Exhausted, Zhong Xiaoai followed the flow of people out of the terminal.

She hailed a beat-up taxi and headed straight for the city center.

The car stopped at the busiest intersection.

Zhong Xiaoai opened the car door, and the early winter wind, mixed with raindrops, hit her face.

She stood in front of the zebra crossing and slowly raised her head.

Before me stands the towering Lingxiao Building, piercing the clouds.

The dark glass curtain wall reflected a cold, sharp light under the overcast sky, like a divine steel fortress.

The entire city operates under the watchful gaze of this building.

The streets were bustling with traffic and neon lights were flashing, as if even the rhythm of breathing was beating in sync with the pulse of the Lingxiao Consortium.

Zhong Xiaoai's legs went weak, and she could barely stand.

She once thought that by sitting in the capital, she could control everything on the chessboard.

Now we stand at the foot of this behemoth.

Only then did she truly realize that she was just a pitiful ant.

They were looking up at a towering mountain that seemed insurmountable.

She swallowed hard, her saliva dry, and pulled her trench coat collar tighter.

Wearing high heels that had been soaked and deformed by the rain, she walked step by step toward the building's magnificent revolving glass doors.

Just as I reached the bottom of the steps, two burly security guards in black suits stepped in front of me.

Like two iron towers, they solidly blocked her way.

"What are you doing here? There aren't any walk-in customers at the conglomerate building today."

The security guard on the left looked her up and down, his tone stiff and devoid of any warmth.

Zhong Xiaoai took a deep breath and forced out a smile that looked worse than crying.

She tried her best to straighten her spine, which was almost broken.

"Brother, could you please make an exception for me?"

Her voice trembled like a leaf falling in the wind.

"I want to see President Yan. I am Zhong Xiaoai from the Zhong family in Beijing. I'm here to discuss a deal with Mr. Yan."

The security guard stared at her like she was an idiot for a long time, then suddenly let out a cold sneer.

He reached out and pressed the communicator to his ear, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

"Mr. Lin, a woman has come to the gate, and she smells like instant noodles."

The security guard glanced sideways at Zhong Xiaoai and drawled into the microphone.

"She said her name was Zhong Xiaoai, and asked our Master Yan if he would accept beggars from the capital?"