I feel right at home in the world of the courtyard house.

The waiter obeyed and left. The masseuse was restless, trying to stand up several times, but Li Jing'an pressed her back down. She bit her lip, her nails digging into her palms, her eyes filled with anxiety and fear.

A moment later, a man in casual clothes was brought in. Two security guards in suits followed behind him, one on each side, to prevent him from doing anything rash.

The man looked refined and gentle, with regular features and a bit handsome, though he was a little thin.

As soon as footsteps were heard, the masseuse immediately lowered her head, her whole body stiffening like a stone, and she stopped struggling.

The man walked in and saw his wife, disheveled, nestled in the arms of a strange man, her bathrobe slipped down to her shoulders, half her body pressed against the man's chest. He paused, mechanically bowed, and uttered "Kombanha".

He then whispered something to his wife, as if asking a question.

The masseuse kept her head down and responded in a low voice, not daring to look up.

Li Jing'an found this scene extremely amusing. His hand, which had been pulled away, slipped back into the masseuse's bathrobe, his palm resting on her waist skin, slowly moving upwards.

This was like water being poured into a hot oil pan—the masseuse was startled and grabbed Li Jing'an's wrists, pulling them out forcefully while anxiously whispering something. The man was even more direct; he called out his wife's name and tried to rush forward, but two security guards grabbed his arms and pressed him to the ground, his face almost touching the floor.

He began to struggle, his voice filled with anger, shouting in Li Jing'an's direction.

Li Jing'an chuckled instead. Both hands were inside the bathrobe, bustling about. The masseur's bathrobe slipped mostly off his shoulders; if it weren't for his hands covering it, he would have been completely exposed. He felt the scene was familiar—wasn't it just like those scenes in Japanese movies? Only the protagonist was him.

Nagata then gave the waiter a wink. The waiter understood, turned and went inside, returning shortly with a briefcase.

Nagata took it, unzipped the zipper, counted out twenty ten-thousand-yuan bills, and casually threw them in front of the man who was being held down on the ground.

The man glanced at the money on the ground, his face suddenly contorted into a ferocious expression, his struggle intensified, and he let out a low growl.

Nagata frowned, then counted out ten more and threw them over.

The man was still yelling.

Nagata cursed "Baka!" and mumbled a few words of advice, the gist of which was not to push his luck. Then he pulled out another twenty bills from his bag, slapped them on the pile of money, put the bag aside, leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and watched the man on the ground, waiting for him to choose.

Li Jing'an watched the play, a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes narrowing. He suddenly turned to the translator and said, "Go, you go over there. Collect ten sheets."

The translator was taken aback, then a grin spread across his face. He got up, walked over, squatted down in front of the man, patted the man's face, and muttered, "Be smart." The man glared at him, his eyes blazing.

The translator remained unmoved, picked out ten bills from the small stack of money on the ground, held them in his hand, turned around and waved them at Li Jing'an to show off his spoils.

Li Jing'an nodded and said, "Ten more."

The translator laughed and bent down to smoke again.

The moment his hand touched the second banknote, the thin man on the ground suddenly seemed to be injected with hormones, violently struggling and managing to break free from the grasp of the two security guards. The two security guards clearly hadn't expected him to have such strength, and were momentarily released.

The man's first target wasn't Li Jing'an, nor his wife—but the translator.

The translator was squatting down counting money when a dark shadow pounced on him out of the corner of his eye. Startled, he looked up sharply and met the other person's fiery eyes and raised hand. The slap was full of force, getting closer and closer in his eyes, like in slow motion—he could even see the bulging veins on the back of the other person's hand.

The translator instinctively closed his eyes, shrank his neck, and had only one thought in his mind: "That's it, my face is definitely going to swell up after that slap."

A gust of wind swept past him, causing his hair to flutter.

After a moment, the expected excruciating pain did not occur. The translator opened his eyes tremblingly—his hand was empty; the wad of banknotes he had been clutching was gone.

Looking down again, I saw the man squatting on the ground, quickly gathering the scattered banknotes into his arms. His movements were swift and focused, a stark contrast to his earlier furious demeanor.

The translator was stunned for two seconds, then realized what was going on and didn't know whether to laugh or cry—all that commotion just now was to rob someone?

A hearty laugh came from behind him as he slapped the armrest of the recliner: "This kid—he's not stupid!"

The masseuse, now in Li Jing'an's arms, stopped struggling.

Li Jing'an pinched her chin, turned her face towards him, and muttered in Chinese, "What are you two pretending for? Don't you know what your wife does for a living? Why are you putting on this act?" He chuckled, "It's a good thing I didn't pay for it, otherwise you two would be in deep trouble."

He released his hand, patted the masseur's cheek, and then turned to look at the man who was bowing and repeatedly saying "Arigatou gozaimasu." Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes, a hint of regret on his face.

"What a pity," he murmured to himself, "He's too late. Otherwise... I really wanted to recreate that famous scene from the movies—the wife giving a massage while the husband watches." He clicked his tongue. "Thinking about it, I'm actually a little excited."

---

In the parking lot of the hot spring hotel, a black sedan was turned off and parked in the shadows of a corner.

The passenger door opened, and a woman got in. She closed the door and turned to look at the man in the driver's seat—Team Leader Nozawa from Furukawa Corporation.

"I can't get close at all." Yoko Kawabata frowned, her tone filled with frustration. "That area has been booked out by Komatsu's people. The whole area is surrounded by security, and even the waiters have been replaced by their own people. Only a few regular waiters can get in; I can't even get close to them."

Nozawa leaned back in the driver's seat, his hands on the steering wheel, and wasn't too surprised by what he heard. He frowned slightly, then relaxed and waved his hand: "Yoko, don't worry. Today was just a gamble—it would be strange if you could get close to those private hot springs so easily."

He paused, turned to look at her, his eyes as steady as ever: "I've heard that the Dongda University delegation will begin visiting various companies tomorrow. Minister Li will definitely make a move—even if he doesn't go to the factories with the delegation, he can't stay cooped up in the hot springs forever. As long as he shows up, we'll have a chance."

As Yoko Kawabata looked at his profile as he spoke, she suddenly felt a little dazed.

Team Leader Nozawa was always like that—orderly and methodical, always exuding a reassuring aura. A top student from the University of Tokyo, he had a smooth career after joining Furukawa, leading an independent team at a young age. Yoko's initial admiration gradually transformed into a deeper, more complex feeling—one she never dared to voice. She felt unworthy of him; her education, background, and abilities were far inferior.

So she could only work hard to perform well, voluntarily work overtime, and even organize materials at home, all so that he would notice her more.

At that moment, Nozawa was calmly discussing tomorrow's plans, his fingers rhythmically tapping the steering wheel. Yoko watched him, and suddenly the frustration of being kept out by security didn't seem so heavy anymore.

"You're right." She looked away, her voice softening. "We'll definitely find an opportunity tomorrow."

Nozawa nodded and started the engine.