The Secret of the Yoga Club: The Women's Identity is Not Simple

Lin Feng went into Yoga Room No. 3 to change his clothes and did a set of shoulder and neck rotations in front of the mirror.

Not long after, Yang Ru pushed the door open and came in, wearing a dark gray sports vest and matching tight shorts.

She walked to the center of the mat, bent down to place the sports water bottle on the ground, and her shorts clung to her buttocks as she bent over, the smooth curve flashing before his eyes.

"Sister Yang, I might be busy for a while. The billiard hall is under renovation, and Sister Hong also has some things to take care of, so the club's classes can't be scheduled every day like before." Lin Feng stood on the mat next to her. "But coming two or three times a week is still no problem."

Yang Ru straightened up and glanced at him. "Then you can come to my house for lessons from now on."

After knocking twice on Luo Ruoxi's office door, a voice inside said, "Come in."

Luo Ruoxi sat behind her desk, an open ledger in front of her, wearing frameless glasses.

I took off my glasses and rubbed the bridge of my nose; the fine lines at the corners of my eyes were more noticeable under the light than usual.

"Manager Luo, I just spoke with Sister Yang, and I'll try to come two or three times a week from now on. Also, if there's an opportunity later, I can bring some high-end customers over—you know I know quite a few people now."

Luo Ruoxi's fingers paused at the edge of the ledger. She slowly stood up, walked around the desk to Lin Feng, her lips moved, and her eyes suddenly reddened.

She reached out and hugged Raymond Lam, her tears soaking a small patch of his T-shirt. Her voice was broken and intermittent. She said thank you, thank you so much.

Lin Feng hesitated for a moment, then gently patted her back. After a while, he helped her up from his arms and asked if she would like to treat him to a meal that afternoon, as he didn't have any other plans for the day.

Luo Ruoxi wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and nodded repeatedly, saying that of course she was willing and she would cook herself.

Luo Ruoxi's home is in an ordinary residential area in the old city, a six-story slab building with mottled paint on the exterior walls.

He was driving a Volkswagen that was neither new nor old, and he parked it in an open-air parking space downstairs.

When they went upstairs, one of the motion-activated lights in the hallway was broken, so Lin Feng followed her upstairs using the light from his phone screen.

The walls were painted with words in various colors, the most glaring of which were a few crooked red characters: "Pay back your debts."

It wasn't newly written; the paint had seeped into the wall, leaving several thin red streaks running down the edges. Luo Ruoxi walked ahead, carrying a bag of groceries from the supermarket, her voice calm.

They said the writings were done by people who used to collect debts, and even after erasing them several times, the marks were still there.

My home is on the second floor, and once the security door is open, it's much brighter inside than outside.

It's a compact two-bedroom apartment; the living room isn't big, but it's kept very clean.

The fabric sofa was covered with a faded sofa cover, a bottle of cheap plastic flowers sat on the coffee table, and several fashion magazines were stacked next to the TV cabinet.

A faint smell of disinfectant wafted through the air, coming from the direction of the master bedroom.

The door to the master bedroom was ajar, and through the crack, you could see a hospital bed. Lying on the bed was a woman with gray hair, an oxygen tube in her nose, and her eyes closed, as if she were asleep.

"My mom. Stomach cancer, her health has been very poor since chemotherapy." Luo Ruoxi placed the vegetables on the kitchen counter, walked to the master bedroom door and gently closed the door. "She's been a bit more stable recently, but the doctor said she can't stop the targeted therapy. The medication alone costs tens of thousands a month, and most of the money the club earns goes to this."

She turned around and walked into the living room, poured Lin Feng a cup of tea, and then put on an apron to go to the kitchen.

Just then, the security door was banged on from the outside—not knocked, but pounded on, and the entire door panel was shaking.

Lin Feng stood up and went to open the door.

A middle-aged man stood at the door, his face flushed, reeking of alcohol, and holding a half-empty bottle of beer.

His hair was a mess, his shirt was buttoned up wrong, and his belly made his belt look tight.

Seeing Lin Feng open the door, he squinted and looked him up and down. "Who are you? Where's my daughter?"

Luo Ruoxi came out of the kitchen and saw the person at the door; her expression changed instantly.

It wasn't fear, but the kind of disgust that comes from being tormented by the same nightmare repeatedly for many years, a feeling that has numbed you.

"Didn't I just give you the money last week? Why are you here again?" Her voice was so cold it could freeze.

Mr. Luo swaggered into the living room, sat down on the sofa, put a beer bottle on the coffee table, and said that he had already spent all that money.

Luo Ruoxi asked him how much he owed this time, and he held up three fingers and waved them in the air naturally.

Luo Ruoxi took out her phone to transfer the money, saying, "Thirty thousand, take it and leave immediately." Her father smiled and said, "That's not enough. It's not thirty thousand, it's three hundred thousand."

Luo Ruoxi's hand, gripping her phone, froze in mid-air. "Are you crazy? I don't have that much money."

"No money?" Mr. Luo leaned back on the sofa, crossed his legs, and said, "You run such a big club, it's more like you're complaining about being poor to your mother, not to me? I raised you all these years, fed you and clothed you, and now I'm asking you for some money, what's wrong with that? If you don't want to give it to me, fine—"

After saying that, he leaned back on the sofa and said, "I'm not leaving. Anyway, those debt collectors outside can't find me, and I can still get a few meals here."

Luo Ruoxi pushed him to leave, but he raised his hand and slapped her. Lin Feng stepped forward, grabbed his wrist as he swung it, and pressed his other hand on his shoulder, shoving him into the sofa.

Luo's father struggled twice but couldn't break free, and started cursing. Luo Ruoxi put her phone back in her apron pocket and said, "At most 100,000 yuan, and don't come again."

Mr. Luo sat up from the sofa, his expression suddenly changing. He said, "Ten thousand is fine too, but—I've already promised you to Master Lu in the north of the city."

They promised a million, and they'll be here soon. Since you're disobedient, don't blame Dad.

Luo Ruoxi's face turned pale instantly.

Master Lu runs a casino and lends money at exorbitant interest rates in the north of the city. Last year, there was a case where a female college student jumped off a building because he was forcibly collecting debts. The person who reported the case later withdrew the charges, but everyone knows that he was the one who did it.

She gripped the edge of her apron tightly and said, "I don't agree. What you're doing is illegal." Mr. Luo slammed the beer bottle on the coffee table and said, "I'm your father. You have to agree, whether you like it or not."

Just then.

When the security door was pushed open again, the person who came in was half a head taller than everyone else inside.

A man with acne scars on his face, not very tall, with a short, thick neck, a gold chain about the thickness of a little finger hanging around his neck, and a black tight-fitting T-shirt that accentuated his belly.

Five thugs followed behind him, all with buzz cuts and dressed in black, blocking the living room completely as they stood at the door.

Master Lu's gaze swept around the living room, passing over Luo's father before landing on Luo Ruoxi and then fixing on her.

I haven't seen her for months, and this girl has become more and more sexy.