Unorthodox methods, cultivating immortality relies on rich women

In the dimly lit basement, a nauseating odor lingered, a damp, musty smell mixed with the pungent stench of urine, suffocating in the stagnant air, sticking to one's skin, making one feel a tightness in the chest with every breath, and even breathing became sluggish and heavy.

Old Zhong lay on the cold cement floor, having long since lost count of how long he had been imprisoned there.

His hands and feet, which were originally bound by thick hemp ropes, had long since lost all feeling, leaving only a numb, aching sensation. The seemingly endless imprisonment had worn away his last shred of hope for survival.

He's in his fifties now, long past the vigorous age he once was.

If he were younger, even if he were tied up, he would definitely do everything he could to find a chance to escape, and would never resign himself to his fate and lie down like this.

But now, he felt weak all over, his eyelids were as heavy as lead, and he was dizzy and didn't even have the strength to lift a finger.

Just as his consciousness was about to sink, the rusty iron door to the basement suddenly creaked with a jarring scraping sound, followed by soft footsteps approaching him from afar.

Old Zhong barely managed to lift his heavy eyelids, squinting open a crack. His gaze first fell upon a pair of small feet wearing white flat sneakers, walking step by step towards him.

He knew those feet all too well.

He used to hold it in his palm and play with it day and night during those days when he was with it every day, and he even remembered the curve of its toes clearly.

"Old Zhong."

A warm hand gently rested on his shoulder and gently flipped him over from the ground.

His hands, bound behind his back, pulled at his muscles and bones, causing a sharp pain in his waist and abdomen. However, the pain had long been masked by numbness, and he could no longer distinguish whether it was pain or numbness.

"Old Zhong, how are you feeling? Are you alright?"

The person speaking was Tang Xiaolan, his mistress whom he had kept for many years.

In her early thirties, she wasn't exactly stunningly beautiful, but she had fair skin and a delicate, pitiful air about her that made people want to protect her.

It was precisely this appearance that made Lao Zhong treat her with utmost sincerity, providing her with food and clothing, buying her a house, and being incredibly generous without reservation, wanting only to protect her by his side.

But you can't see into someone's heart. Who would have thought that such a delicate appearance hides such a heart?

The key issue is that she always felt she was right and that everything she did was for Lao Zhong's good, which is the most terrifying thing.

"I shouldn't have met you in the first place." Old Zhong looked at her and sighed deeply.

Tang Xiaolan was not angry when she heard this; instead, she showed a gentle smile.

For the past week, every time she brought food, Lao Zhong would say this, and she had long been used to hearing it.

She gently helped Old Zhong up, letting his back rest against the cold wall, and then took a thin cushion from the side and placed it behind his lower back, afraid that it might make him uncomfortable.

"Just bear with it a little longer." She squatted down in front of Old Zhong, her eyes serious. "We'll let you go once we get the money."

As she spoke, she opened the white insulated container she had brought. As soon as the lid was lifted, a rich aroma wafted into her nostrils—it was his favorite sweet and sour pork.

"I made your favorite food, eat more."

Tang Xiaolan picked up her clean chopsticks, took a piece of pork tenderloin coated in sweet and sour sauce, and held it to Lao Zhong's lips with incredibly gentle movements.

Old Zhong looked at her, his heart filled with mixed feelings, unable to tell whether it was hatred, resentment, or even a sense of absurdity.

Is this woman naive or stupid?

"Help me untie the rope at the back, I'll eat it myself."

He tilted his head slightly, his voice tinged with weariness.

"no."

Tang Xiaolan refused without even thinking, but her tone remained gentle.

"My husband told me he couldn't untie you. I finally managed to beg him to let me bring you food, so please don't cause any trouble, okay?"

As she spoke, she held the pork tenderloin to his mouth again and patiently fed it to him.

He ate one bite after another, slowly and patiently, always waiting for Lao Zhong to swallow the food in his mouth before picking up the next bite, showing great patience.

This delicate tenderness, like a fine needle, gently pricked Old Zhong's heart, causing the surging hatred in his heart to inexplicably fade a little, and even giving rise to a sense of helplessness that he couldn't bring himself to hate.

"After we eat, I'll give you a massage. Don't you love it when I give you massages?" Tang Xiaolan said again.

Old Zhong was silent for a moment, then looked up at her: "Are you so sure that your husband will let me go once he gets the money?"

"Definitely."

Tang Xiaolan nodded immediately, her tone incredibly firm, "He promised me that he would let you go once he got the money, and he would never go back on his word."

Upon hearing this, Old Zhong couldn't help but chuckle softly, his laughter filled with sarcasm, so loud it hurt his chest: "He promised you? Xiao Lan, have you forgotten? Every time he abused you, didn't he promise you he'd never hit you again? Every time he lost money gambling, didn't he promise you he'd live a good life and never gamble again? But what was the result?"

These words struck a nerve with Tang Xiaolan.

She started dating Huang Dayuan when she was a teenager. From a naive girl to her current age of thirty, she has never had a single day of peace in the past ten years.

Domestic violence, gambling, alcoholism—Huang Dayuan's wickedness was etched into his very bones.

Even so, she chose to endure it time and time again, always believing that he would change.

Later, Huang Dayuan hooked up with a rich woman, forced her to divorce without saying a word, and left her with nothing. In the end, she had nowhere else to turn, so she went to work at a foot massage parlor. It was then that she met Lao Zhong.

It was Old Zhong who pulled her out of the mire, gave her a home, and allowed her to live a normal life.

Old Zhong thought he could warm her heart, but he forgot the old saying: "Every pitiful person has something hateful about them."

He poured his heart out to her, but Huang Dayuan only turned around and said a few soft words to her, making a few vague promises, and she was willing to follow him. She turned around and really wanted to pour her heart out to him.

"No, this time is different from before."

Tang Xiaolan's face turned deathly pale instantly, and her hand gripping the chopsticks tightened sharply, her knuckles turning white.

She slammed the thermos to the ground with a loud bang, and the food inside splashed out, scattering everywhere.

With red eyes, she turned and left angrily, slamming the iron door to the basement shut with a loud bang that sent dust flying from the ceiling.

Old Zhong leaned against the wall, watching the direction she disappeared in. He didn't call out to her, but felt only regret. He regretted that bowl of sweet and sour pork. His stomach was empty now, and he felt like he was on fire from hunger.

Just when he thought she was really gone, the iron gate was gently pushed open again, and Tang Xiaolan's figure reappeared at the door.

Her eyes were red and filled with tears. She walked up to Lao Zhong, her voice choked with apology: "I'm sorry, Lao Zhong, I shouldn't have lost my temper with you."

She crouched down, picked up the thermos from the ground, wiped the stains off the thermos, picked up her chopsticks, and continued to feed him pork tenderloin, but her movements were slower than before, with a hint of barely perceptible panic.

"Don't talk about my husband like that."

As she fed him, she whispered her defense, "He was poor before, life was hard, that's why he had a bad temper. Now that we have money, he'll definitely change, and we can live a good life from now on..."

When she spoke of Huang Dayuan, a sweet light appeared in her eyes.

Looking at her like this, Old Zhong felt so frustrated he could barely contain himself. He wanted to slap her, but he was tied up and couldn't move.

He cursed inwardly: Damn it, a woman like that deserves to be beaten to death.

After finishing a bowl of sweet and sour pork, the hunger in my stomach was slightly relieved, and I seemed to regain some strength.

Old Zhong's mind started racing as he used this last bit of strength to figure out how to escape from this hellish place.

Just then, the iron door to the basement was suddenly kicked open, and with a loud crash, it slammed against the wall.

A burly, strong man barged in from outside, his face full of fierceness and his eyes almost overflowing with hostility. He was Tang Xiaolan's husband, Huang Dayuan.

"Are you fucking lying to me?"

Huang Dayuan grabbed Tang Xiaolan's arm, shoved her aside, rushed to Lao Zhong, and shoved the phone hard into his face. "He deleted you? Where's the money?"

On the phone screen, the glaring red exclamation mark was particularly eye-catching.

Tang Xiaolan was thrown to the ground. Seeing Huang Dayuan's anger, she immediately shrank her neck, lowered her head, and her body trembled uncontrollably. She didn't even dare to lift her head, like a frightened quail.

Old Zhong stared at the red exclamation mark, also quite surprised.

He never expected that the client would run away with the money.

"It's not my fault," Old Zhong hurriedly explained, his voice tinged with urgency.

"I didn't know he would run away, but don't panic. I know where he lives. We signed a commission agreement, so he won't dare not pay us back."

His words were merely a delaying tactic.

When Shen Qingzhou partnered with him, he neither received a deposit nor signed a formal agreement.

Firstly, it's about trusting him; secondly, this industry is inherently in a gray area. For small orders, a deposit can be collected to mitigate risk, but for large orders like this, it all depends on the reputation of both parties, and there are no effective means of constraint.

Although he signed an agreement with the client and conducted a background check, these were insignificant compared to the money-absconding man.

It is virtually impossible to recover the debt through conventional means.

What truly restrains these people are the unconventional methods they possess; these are the foundation upon which they rely for survival in this industry.

But now, he can barely protect himself, so those methods are out of the question. He was just lying to Huang Dayuan.

Sure enough, when Huang Dayuan saw the red exclamation mark on his phone, the anger on his face subsided slightly, and a hint of hesitation flashed in his eyes.

The agency agreement was in his hands at the moment, and Lao Zhong's words gave him a glimmer of hope.

"Can we really get it back?" He stared intently at Old Zhong, his eyes filled with malice.

"Yes, definitely." Old Zhong said firmly.

Huang Dayuan gave him a deep look, then glanced at Tang Xiaolan, who was cowering on the ground trembling, and said coldly, "You, come out with me."

Tang Xiaolan glanced timidly at Lao Zhong, secretly forcing a reassuring smile, then quickly got up and hurried to catch up with Huang Dayuan, not daring to delay for even a moment.

The iron door to the basement was closed again, plunging everything back into darkness and silence.

Old Zhong leaned against the cold wall, staring at the tightly closed iron gate, his heart sinking to the bottom.

A strong sense of unease gripped him, and a chill ran down his spine.

He had a very bad feeling.

Now, he can only place all his hopes on Shen Qingzhou.