Tokyo: Starting with taking on his wife's debts

Xiuming stroked the fine hairs of Meijin Midori's ears and temples, patted her back gently, then squatted down, put his arms under her knees, and lifted her still trembling body into his arms. He then slowly sat her down on the small wooden stool.

Like a frightened kitten, Midori Umezu huddled in Hideaki's arms, her lips trembling and shaking.

Xiuming thought he would overhear some illegal or derelict conspiracy, so he wanted to hide for a while longer. He never expected to be in such abusive situation outside.

Unfortunately, I didn't have a camera with me...

He was very opposed to this situation.

It's rather distorted, especially in Japan's environment where etiquette is so superficial. The more glamorous and polite one appears on the outside, the more violent and dirty one is inside.

Faced with an unparalleled and overwhelming adoration, yet harboring rebellious intentions, subservience, and a tendency to endure in silence, the slightest sign of weakness will trigger immediate betrayal and assassination...

It can be seen as a release of emotions after being oppressed.

Presumably, Mr. Maruyama Ichiro's career is not going very well.

Umezu Midori was still trembling, her body seemed to have lost its warmth, and her trembling hands were as cold as a corpse.

Xiuming held her cold hands and rubbed them, saying, "Don't be so pathetic, okay?"

Umezu Midori tilted her head back, her lips trembling, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, and asked in a trembling voice, "Will...will you protect me...?"

"Don't ask such silly questions. As long as you divorce that pervert outside, you and my wife will be best friends." Xiuming cupped her cheeks, wiped away her tears with his two thumbs, and made her face his eyes. He continued, "Do you want to come out with me to beat him up, or stay here?"

Xiuming couldn't stand the real screams coming from the living room; they made him feel uncomfortable all over.

It's on a completely different level from the screams of prisoners being beaten in movies.

It's easy to imagine that some of the videos circulating online that abused cats or dogs would make normal people feel uncomfortable. Just imagine doubling that discomfort.

Xiuming's fist was already rock hard.

Umezu Midori seemed to have been given courage. Her eyes trembled as she looked around, swallowed hard, and whispered, "I... can I go to the kitchen and get a knife?"

"Absolutely not! Do you want to spend your whole life in prison, clinging to iron bars and watching me visit you with different women every day?"

Meijin Midori's eyes widened, her pupils contracted, and after a long pause, she said in a low voice, her voice trembling with tears, "What kind of time is this to say such things..."

It seems she has recovered.

"I'm not going to waste my breath on you. I'll deal with him first, then you can go out."

As Hideaki spoke, he gently put Umezu Midori down, then took down the white cotton towel hanging on the wall and wrapped it around his head a few times, leaving only his eyes exposed.

Hideaki's company is under Maruyama Ichiro's jurisdiction. Although he doesn't care if Maruyama discovers his identity and then makes things difficult for his company, it's best to avoid being discovered by him if possible.

The living room carpet was littered with strips of a black dress, a torn black bra, high heels, a black women's handbag, and scattered lipsticks and cosmetics... The trail stretched sparsely from the entrance hall to the sofa area in the living room.

In front of the sofa, next to the low coffee table, stood a man, and in front of him was a woman kneeling.

The man was wearing a very formal black suit, like a civil servant's uniform, with his white shirt collar wide open, no tie, and his trousers pulled down to his ankles... He was also wearing underwear and leather shoes...

The woman's feet were bound by a pair of black women's underwear, and her hands were tied behind her back and bound with a blue tie.

The man was grabbing the woman's hair with his left hand, pressing her cheek against the glass coffee table. In his right hand, which was raised high, he was holding a leather belt.

He looks to be around forty years old, with a meticulously styled slicked-back hairstyle, a fierce look in his eyes, and a gritted-teeth expression.

The woman appeared to be in her early twenties. One side of her face was distorted from being squeezed, and one eye looked like it had been punched; the eyelid was swollen and purplish-blue. There was a bright red, swollen handprint on her face, and her lips seemed to have been slapped open and were bleeding. A purplish-blue, bleeding bump had also appeared on her smooth forehead. Her back, arms, buttocks, and legs were covered with swollen, red welts from being slapped, some of which were broken.

Her skin was very white, which made the bright red bruises look even more gruesome.

Neither of them noticed Xiuming.

The woman sobbed, wailed, and begged for mercy in a low voice... but the man remained unmoved, seemingly becoming even more violent because of her cries and pleas.

"stop!"

Xiuming deliberately strained his voice and let out a sharp roar, then strode forward.

Maruyama Ichiro's raised right hand trembled, and his cold and violent expression suddenly widened in terror as he turned his head to look at him.

Just as Maruyama Ichiro seemed about to say something, Hideaki also kicked out, the sole of his black rubber shoe landing squarely on his face.

"what!!"

Maruyama Ichiro threw his head back, blood gushing from his nose and teeth, and with a hoarse scream, slammed his head onto the sofa.

He struggled to his feet, grabbing his black trousers by his ankles and pulling them up. His wide eyes were bloodshot, and he stared in terror at Xiuming, who had a white towel wrapped around his head and was only wearing a white coat.

Blood was gushing from his mouth and nose as he slurred, "Who are you? Why are you in my house? You're trespassing! You're committing a crime!"

Xiuming's heart skipped a beat; his blustering yet cowardly demeanor seemed easy to manipulate.

That's true. More than 90% of people who commit domestic violence and abuse are timid and submissive in public.

Moreover, most Japanese people, when faced with an insurmountable opponent, rarely act impulsively; they wisely choose to remain patient and restrained.

The woman kneeling on the coffee table seemed to be stunned as well.

Hideaki stepped over her bound ankles and then approached Maruyama Ichiro.

Maruyama Ichiro, still holding up his pants, plopped down on the sofa again.

“You…you’re looking for money? There’s no money in this house, but there’s money in another house,” he looked up, his face pale, his eyes filled with terror, blood still gushing from his nose. His hands trembled as he pulled a brown alligator wallet from inside his suit jacket, held it above his head, and said in a tearful voice, “I have some money and credit cards in my wallet, you can take them…what else do you want? Please tell me…”

Xiuming's attire at this moment: He was wearing nothing underneath, only a white lab coat on the outside, and a thick white towel wrapped around his head, revealing only his eyes; not even his hair could be seen.

Moreover, as she walks, her long, muscular legs are revealed, and she occasionally exposes herself...

He looked like a patient who had escaped from a mental hospital, or a psychopath, a killer... In any case, anyone who saw him would know that he was not normal, especially since he was hiding in Maruyama Ichiro's house and had used a violent flying kick on him.

Maruyama Ichiro could only imagine that Hideaki was a penniless burglar who, unable to find any money, was driven to rage... Of course, it was also possible that he was a mental patient who had just escaped from a hospital, after all, no one else would dress like that...

"Take off your clothes." Xiuming slapped the wallet that was handed to him away and grumbled in a strained voice.

Behind him, the woman whose head was pressed against the low coffee table had slid off the table, moved her body, and knelt down behind the table.

Indeed, with her hands and feet bound, even if she was utterly ashamed, this was all she could do.

Maruyama Ichiro's terrified expression froze, a sudden surge of humiliation welling up in his eyes. His hand trembled as he pointed at the woman cowering behind the coffee table, saying, "Sir, please don't do this, there's a woman there..."

Xiuming did not respond, but put his hand into the pocket of his white coat and slowly pulled out a black pistol.

"Ah~~ Ah~~ Ah~"

As Hideaki slowly pulled out his pistol, Maruyama Ichiro's eyes widened, he gasped, and with trembling hands, he quickly began to undress...

Of course, after Maruyama Ichiro took off his suit jacket, Hideaki picked it up, walked to the side of the coffee table, and covered the woman with the jacket.

Maruyama Ichiro wasn't sure if Hideaki had asked him to take off his clothes to cover Uno Kazue, or if he was targeting him.

After all, from the moment Hideaki appeared, he seemed uninterested in Uno, his eyes fixed on Maruyama Ichiro as if he were there specifically for him, so he continued to take off his white shirt.

As a civil servant, I don't have to do physical labor or get much sun exposure, so my skin is very fair. Plus, I often attend drinking parties, so I have layers of belly fat...

As Hideaki covered Uno with his suit jacket, Maruyama Ichiro, enduring the humiliation, lay prone on the leather sofa with his knees on the carpet, continuing to pull down his pants. He turned his head tremblingly and asked in a low voice, "Sir, may I apply some lubricant?"

Xiuming turned his head in surprise, and was immediately disgusted. He grabbed the belt on the ground and started whipping him all over his body.

"Are you deliberately trying to disgust me?" Xiuming roared as he whipped the pants. "Put them on! Put them on! Put your pants on!"

"I'm sorry, sir... please stop hitting me..."

Amidst the lashing wind and rain, Maruyama Ichiro pulled up his trousers, covered his head with his hands, huddled on the carpet, and leaned against the leather sofa, crying and begging for mercy.

Midori Umezu, dressed in Hideaki's clothes, came out of the bathroom.

When her gaze fell on Maruyama Ichiro, who was being whipped by Hideaki and was howling like a banshee, her eyes flickered. She subconsciously looked at the boning knife on the kitchen cutting board, clenched her fist in her sleeve, gritted her teeth, and instead of going into the kitchen, she went to the storage room and took out an expensive golf club.

He then strode back to the living room, swung his arm, and began to beat Maruyama Ichiro on the back.

"Ah!" Maruyama Ichiro didn't dare to look up, covering his head and burying himself under the coffee table, begging and crying, "Sir, please use the belt, please don't use this...it'll kill someone..."

With his thick, fleshy body, even if Umezu Midori wanted to beat him to death, she couldn't possibly kill him with her strength, especially since he had buried his head under the coffee table.

Xiuming was also tired of smoking, so he sat down on the sofa.

Uno, standing next to him, was wearing a black suit jacket, his back hunched and his body hunched over, his forehead pressed tightly against his knees.

Her ankles were still bound with her black lace panties, and of course, her hands were still tied behind her back with a blue tie.

Xiuming then untied her wrists, and she covered her face with her hands, remaining kneeling without moving.

I don't know if my heart is dead or what...

Xiuming tentatively asked in a low voice, "Do you want to whip him a few times?"

She remained motionless.

Judging from what just happened, she seems to have just realized Maruyama Ichiro's true colors, and this exposed situation will definitely be even more unbearable for her. Hopefully, she won't do anything rash!

Hideaki thought about it and decided to ignore her and wait until Umezu Midori got tired of hitting him before asking her to comfort her.

Chapter 181 Those who threatened me, Fukai Jiro...

Umezu Midori's long hair fell down her side, obscuring her eyes, so her expression was completely hidden. She was almost going crazy, even jumping up and kicking and punching.

Maruyama Ichiro's lower back, back, and neck were covered in red, swollen marks... Umezu Midori didn't miss any spot where she could be hit, swinging her golf club with a whooshing sound.

She wasn't very accurate; she just hit randomly and almost tripped herself.

With a loud crash, the golf club slammed into the coffee table, sending tiny shards of glass flying and causing spiderweb-like cracks to appear on the glass surface.

Umezu Midori's arm trembled, as if she had been jolted back. She stopped playing, instead leaning the golf club against her chest. She then swept her loose hair, which had been covering her eyes, behind her head, revealing her fierce eyes. She gasped for breath and said, "Divorce! Divorce right now!"

Maruyama Ichiro's screams suddenly stopped, and his kneeling body, which was lying between the carpet and the sofa, paused.

He yanked his head back from under the coffee table, and as he stood up, he glanced at Xiuming, who was sitting on the sofa with a white towel covering his face, before turning back to stare at Meijin Midori, whose eyes were filled with murderous intent.

His face no longer showed any fear, but rather shock, anger, humiliation, and disbelief.

Umezu Midori seemed to be gripped by some fear upon seeing his face, and took a small step back.

"You two are having an affair?!" Maruyama Ichiro suddenly roared, waving his hand to grab Umezu Midori's head, "You slut—"

Before he could finish speaking, Xiuming suddenly stood up and pulled out his pistol.

Maruyama Ichiro's entire body stiffened, his words caught in his throat, as if he couldn't even breathe. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he said in a trembling voice, "You... have you thought about the consequences? You... if you kill me, you... you won't have a good life either..."

In his eyes, Xiuming's identity changed from a completely unapproachable burglar and mentally ill murderer to a wild, arrogant, adulterous man who was negotiable.

This change in identity gave him a glimmer of hope... Unless he was a deranged burglar or a mentally ill person, he was rational and shouldn't dare to kill... Besides, he was an adulterer, so what gave him the right to be so arrogant...

"Stop talking nonsense." Xiuming said, putting the pistol into his pocket, walking around the coffee table, and kicking him in the back of the knee.