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

The sky over Handong City looked as if someone had stabbed a huge hole in it with a knife.

The torrential rain pounded on the asphalt road, stirring up a layer of white, sweaty mist.

The late autumn rain carried a chilly, fishy smell, swirling down the iron bars of the sewer.

A black Maybach with a Beijing license plate tore through the rain, its tires screeching as they rolled over the puddles.

"Squeak—"

The car suddenly lurched to a halt, slamming into a huge puddle outside the Lingxiao Media headquarters building.

Muddy water splashed up half a meter high, landing entirely on the polished marble steps next to it.

The back door of the car was kicked open.

A long-handled black umbrella was hastily opened, but the ribs got stuck and it didn't fully open.

"Oh my god..."

Director Feng slipped, and his handmade crocodile leather shoes fell directly into the murky puddle.

The icy muddy water instantly seeped into his socks, sticking wetly to his feet and making him shiver.

He didn't bother to shake the water off his shoes and reached out to pull the umbrella ribs that were stuck.

The British handmade umbrella, which he usually used to decorate his shop, seemed to be working against him at this moment, refusing to open properly.

Raindrops drifted sideways, wetting his sparse head in just a few seconds.

A few strands of greasy hair lay limply on his scalp, making him look extremely disheveled.

The passenger door popped open, and the assistant tumbled and scrambled into the rain.

He was tightly clutching a tablet computer with its screen lit up.

"Director Feng! Please slow down!"

The assistant shouted at the top of his lungs in the rain, and the rainwater filled his mouth, making him cough.

"You can't go any further! This is the Lingxiao security cordon ahead!"

Director Feng flung away the broken umbrella, his face contorted in extreme panic.

He grabbed his assistant by the collar, his eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

"Where's the data? Have those theater executives replied yet?!"

He was breathing heavily, exhaling a sour smell mixed with overnight alcohol.

"Three billion! I mortgaged all my villas in Beijing into it!"

Director Feng's fingers trembled as he reached for the tablet screen.

My fingertips were covered in rainwater, and it took me several tries to open the combination lock.

The national real-time box office statistics website, displayed right in the center of the screen, was blindingly bright.

His epic film, hailed as a "masterpiece of the Beijing film circle," brought together more than a dozen award-winning actors and actresses.

In the "Today's Premiere Box Office" column, there is a huge "0".

"Zero... how could it possibly be zero?"

Director Feng's Adam's apple bobbed violently, as if he had swallowed a handful of broken glass, and a metallic taste of blood rose in his throat.

"What about 70% of the cinemas nationwide? We had a minimum guarantee agreement with them!"

His knuckles were white as he gripped the tablet, his nails digging into the edge of the screen.

The assistant, her voice trembling with tears, wiped the rain from her face.

"It's cut off, completely cut off! At eight o'clock this morning, Lingxiao Holographic VR System issued the highest-level ban order."

The assistant was sniffling, his teeth chattering.

"All online and offline cinemas that are connected to the underlying data of Yunxiao have completely removed our filming schedules!"

"Bullshit! What right do they have!"

Director Feng yelled at the top of his lungs, but his spittle was scattered by the rain before it could even be spat out.

He was usually a big shot in Beijing's social circles, and he had sexually harassed countless actresses. Which investor wouldn't respectfully call him "Master Feng"?

Yesterday he also posted on Weibo, sarcastically mocking the Lingxiao Consortium as a nouveau riche.

Today, his lifeline was completely severed.

"It's not just that there are no more screenings..."

The assistant shrank back, his eyes darting away.

"Those loan sharks just now made dozens of calls demanding repayment, saying that if they don't get their money back today..."

The assistant swallowed hard. "They said they'd take one of your legs as interest."

Director Feng suddenly felt dizzy.

My head was buzzing, like hundreds of flies were buzzing around inside.

He shoved his assistant aside and stumbled towards the entrance of the Lingxiao Building.

As soon as I stepped onto the marble steps, two towering black figures instantly blocked my way.

Two Lingxiao security guards, dressed in black tactical vests, stared at him expressionlessly.

Rainwater streamed down their bulletproof fibers, carrying a chilling, menacing aura.

"What are you doing! I need to see Hua Linglong!"

Director Feng reached out and pushed one of the security guards in the chest.

"I'm Director Feng from the Beijing entertainment circle! I even had tea with your Master Yan at a dinner party before! Let me in!"

The security guard didn't even flinch; he just shoved his shoulder forward.

This hidden power is immense.

Director Feng's body, weakened by wine and women, couldn't possibly withstand this.

His legs buckled, his shoes slipped on the marble, and he fell flat on his back.

A muffled "bang" was heard.

He hit the back of his head on the steps, the pain making him gasp and see stars.

"Sir, this is a private office area. Do not force your way in."

The security guard looked down at him, his hand on the baton at his waist, his voice colder than the late autumn rain.

Director Feng clutched his head and struggled to get up.

His expensive suit was covered in yellow mud, making him look as disheveled as a stray dog.

He frantically reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a cell phone that was swollen from being soaked in rainwater.

"I'll make a call! I'll have someone pass a message to Hua Linglong!"

With trembling hands, he dialed the number of a top investment tycoon in Beijing.

This was his last straw.

"Beep...beep..."

The phone is on.

"Feed? Mr. Wang! Old Wang! You have to save me!"

Director Feng was yelling into his phone, his lips turning purple from the cold.

"Lingxiao has stopped all my screenings. Could you please pass on a message to Handong? Let them name their terms!"

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone.

Immediately afterwards, came Mr. Wang's low, hoarse voice, filled with fear.

"Old Feng, are you out of your mind... Starlight Media from the Chen family was shorted by Master Yan yesterday, and you still dare to provoke that bad luck?"

"Who in Beijing's social circle dares to get involved with you now? Good luck, and don't contact me again."

"Beep beep beep—"

A busy signal came through.

Director Feng stood frozen in place, holding his phone.

Rainwater dripped down his nose and into his mouth, tasting bitter and astringent.

Gone.

A 3 billion yuan hole, debt collection by the underworld, and abandonment by the Beijing elite circle.

It's all over.

His mental defenses completely collapsed in that instant.

Director Feng's legs went weak.

With a "thump".

This renowned director from Beijing's elite circles, who had never even knelt before his parents in his entire life, slammed both knees onto the muddy marble steps.

A piercing pain shot through my kneecap.

But he couldn't care less about that anymore.

"Boss Hua! Grandma Hua!"

Director Feng braced his hands in the mud, raised his head, and howled heart-wrenchingly at the towering Lingxiao Building.

My face was covered in dirty water mixed with tears and snot.

"I was wrong! I was foul-mouthed! Please, have mercy on me and spare my life!"

He cried while frantically slapping his own face.

"Slap! Slap!"

The crisp sound of a slap echoed in the rain, and a large area of ​​her cheek instantly became red and swollen.

"Just give us 10% of the screenings! 5% will do too!"

He shuffled his knees forward on the floor, trying to grab the security guard's leg like a maggot.

"As long as I break even, I'll be Ling Xiao's slave from now on, making movies for you for free!"

The security guard took a step back in disgust, his boots splashing water.

The 88th floor, the president's office of Lingxiao Media.

The air conditioner was on in the room, keeping the temperature constant, and a gentle warm breeze was blowing.

The air was filled with the rich aroma of roasted Guatemalan coffee beans.

Hua Linglong walked barefoot on the soft cashmere carpet.

She wore a dark red silk slip dress with a men's suit jacket casually draped over her shoulders.

He was holding a mug, with wisps of steam rising from its rim.

She stood in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

Looking down through the rain-drenched tempered glass, I saw a dark spot below, kowtowing in a puddle.

The assistant stood behind her, holding a report document.

"Boss Hua, that old man is slapping himself down there, he's even scraped his forehead."

The assistant pouted, her tone full of satisfaction.

"I heard that in order to raise that 3 billion, he signed a betting agreement that if the film flops, he'll have to pay the casino his underwear."

Hua Linglong gently blew on the steam rising from the coffee cup.

The mist blurred her cold, beautiful face.

She chuckled softly.

His chest trembled slightly, and a cruel sneer curled at the corners of his mouth, which was painted with bright red lipstick.

"He usually acts like an artist, but in private he's driven countless girls to their deaths because they refused to sleep with him."

She took a sip of coffee and licked the water off her lips.

"Now you know it hurts? Too late."

Hua Linglong turned around.

I placed the coffee cup on the desk, and the ceramic base made a soft sound as it touched the solid wood.

She reached out and grabbed the encrypted walkie-talkie on the table.

Press the call button on the side with your thumb.

A hissing sound came from the walkie-talkie.

"Security team downstairs, can you hear me?"

On the other end of the walkie-talkie, a cold, hard response came from the gate security guard.

"Boss Hua, I can hear you. What should we do with this guy? Just throw him onto the curb?"

Hua Linglong walked to the French windows and took one last look at the figure still writhing in the rain like mud.

A hint of disgust flashed in her eyes, and her tone was light and casual, yet it carried a chilling ruthlessness.

"Why are you throwing things around? You're polluting the air outside our building."

She released the button, pressed it again, and threw a sentence into the microphone.

"If you think our front gate is too dirty, take a high-pressure water gun and wash this old thing away."