The sound of keys clicking echoed through the quiet study.
Steady.
Measured.
Relentless.
It was like the dull scrape of a blade carving away flesh, one slow cut at a time.
Su Jinxiu sat before Zhao Shiyu’s computer, the monitor’s pale blue glow illuminating her gaunt face and making her eyes seem unnaturally bright.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she completed one loan application after another.
Name: Zhao Shiyu
Age: 42
Employer: Jinxiu Trading Group, Senior Administrative Director
Monthly Income: 38,000 yuan
Assets: One three-bedroom apartment in Emerald Bay Residence, estimated market value of 7.2 million yuan.
After filling in the last field, a faint smile tugged at her lips.
The title of Senior Administrative Director had never been earned.
Years ago, Su Jinxiu had arranged the position herself simply to make her daughter look successful. Zhao Shiyu collected a generous salary without doing any actual work. It had been nothing more than a comfortable sinecure created by her mother.
Ironically, that meaningless title had now become the perfect credential for loan applications.
The first platform—
Xinyuan Loan.
Maximum credit limit:
200,000 yuan.
She submitted the application.
The system approved it automatically without even making a verification call.
Three minutes later—
Ding!
Your bank card ending in 6688 has received a deposit of RMB 200,000.00.
Instant approval.
Without so much as blinking, Su Jinxiu opened the next platform—
Huitong Finance.
Maximum limit:
300,000 yuan.
This one required a phone interview.
Her phone rang.
The moment she answered, her voice changed completely.
It became younger, crisp, and polished, carrying the composed confidence of a capable career woman.
“Hello.”
“Is this Ms. Zhao Shiyu?”
“Speaking.”
“You’ve applied for a loan of 300,000 yuan. May we ask what the funds are for?”
Unhurriedly, Su Jinxiu replied,
“Investment. I’ve found a mutual fund I like and want to increase my position.”
“I see. And your current monthly income?”
“Thirty-eight thousand yuan.”
“With my year-end bonus and dividends, my annual income is roughly six hundred thousand.”
She spoke as though discussing the most ordinary thing in the world.
The representative fell silent for two seconds.
The sound of typing came through the receiver as the information was verified.
“Very well, Ms. Zhao. Your application has been approved. The funds will be transferred within five minutes.”
“Thank you.”
She ended the call.
Without wasting a second, she opened the third platform.
She had mastered Zhao Shiyu’s manner of speaking to perfection.
After all…
She had listened to that voice for her entire life.
From her daughter’s first cries as an infant…
To the sweet, spoiled tone of adolescence…
To the sharp, cutting voice she used as an adult.
Every inflection.
Every habitual phrase.
Every subtle nuance.
Su Jinxiu knew them all by heart.
The irony was almost laughable.
That intimate understanding had now become the sharpest weapon she possessed.
Two hours later—
She had successfully secured loans from fourteen different lending platforms.
Some approved applications instantly.
Others required phone interviews.
A few demanded proof of property ownership.
Fortunately, Su Jinxiu still had photographs of the Emerald Bay apartment’s ownership certificate.
After all, she had been the one who paid the down payment and personally handled every document when the property was purchased.
When the final platform approved the application, she glanced at the clock.
9:17 p.m.
She took out her notebook and wrote:
Online loans under Zhao Shiyu’s name: 5.6 million yuan.
Adding the 870,000 yuan she had already transferred out of Zhao Shiyu’s bank account…
Her daughter had contributed a total of 6.47 million yuan.
Closing the notebook, Su Jinxiu shut down the computer and carefully restored the study to exactly as she’d found it.
Before leaving, she looked around the luxurious apartment one last time.
Her gaze eventually settled on the framed photograph hanging in the living room—
Zhao Shiyu embracing Liu Wanqing.
“My daughter…”
she whispered softly.
“You always said Mom Wanqing was a hundred times better than me.”
“Then let your wonderful mother pay back all these debts for you.”
She turned, quietly closed the door behind her, and left.
10:30 p.m.
Min’an Residential Complex, west side of the city.
Standing outside a rented apartment on the third floor, Su Jinxiu gave the door a gentle push.
It swung open.
Just as she’d expected.
Zhao Zixuan had always been like this.
Forgetful.
Careless.
Hopelessly lazy.
When he was a child, she’d followed behind him cleaning up every mess he made.
As an adult…
No one bothered anymore.
The moment she stepped inside, the smell hit her.
Instant noodles.
Cigarette smoke.
Dirty socks.
She frowned but continued walking.
The living room—
if the tiny patch of open floor surrounded by clutter could still be called one—
was littered with takeout containers, empty cigarette packs, and game controllers.
Three half-finished beer cans sat on the coffee table.
The television was on, displaying a livestreaming platform that nobody was watching.
She glanced around.
Zhao Zixuan wasn’t home.
At this hour, he was either drinking at a bar or gambling with his drinking buddies.
He never returned before two in the morning.
She walked straight into the bedroom.
The blanket lay twisted into a heap.
Half of a charging cable protruded from beneath the pillow.
She opened the bedside drawer.
Portable chargers.
Lighters.
Condoms.
And…
A black card wallet.
She opened it.
ID card.
Present.
Three bank cards.
Driver’s license.
Also present.
She selected the Industrial and Commercial Bank of China card.
Card ending in 8891.
The PIN?
Su Jinxiu let out a cold laugh.
She had helped him open this account too.
Although Zhao Zixuan had chosen the password himself, he’d forgotten it almost immediately and called her asking,
“Mom… what password did I set again?”
She had reminded him,
“The last six digits of your license plate.”
“Oh right, right!”
His plate number was:
Beijing A·K58923.
The last six digits:
589230.
Opening the banking app, she entered the card number and password.
The balance appeared.
1,234,871.06 yuan.
Over 1.23 million yuan.
A thirty-eight-year-old man with no steady job and no ambition…
Holding more than a million yuan in cash.
She didn’t need to wonder where it had come from.
Every year, Zhao Mingyuan transferred dividends from Jinxiu Trading Group into his son’s account under the excuse of giving him “spending money.”
Money that had originally belonged to Su Jinxiu.
Without hesitation, she began making transfers.
Fifty thousand.
Another fifty thousand.
Another.
Again.
Mechanical.
Cold.
Like a factory worker repeating the same motion on an assembly line.
Twenty-five separate transfers.
Thirty minutes.
The account balance—
1,234,871.06 yuan.
Reduced to zero.
When she finished, Su Jinxiu settled into Zhao Zixuan’s greasy computer chair and opened his laptop.
Startup password?
None.
He’d been too lazy to set one.
Shaking her head, she opened the browser and began another round of applications.
Compared to Zhao Shiyu, Zhao Zixuan was an even more attractive borrower.
Thirty-eight years old.
Male.
Owner of a BMW 3 Series—
which she’d also purchased for him.
Perfect credit history.
No previous loans.
No negative records whatsoever.
To online lenders, applicants like him were considered ideal first-time borrowers.
High approval rates.
Generous credit limits.
The first platform approved 250,000 yuan instantly.
The second offered 300,000 yuan after a brief phone interview.
Lowering her voice, Su Jinxiu perfectly mimicked Zhao Zixuan’s lazy, carefree tone.
“Hello?… Yeah, it’s me.”
“What do I need the loan for?”
“Opening a bar with a couple of friends.”
“Yeah, yeah, got it.”
The representative never questioned him.
Third platform.
Fourth.
Fifth.
…
Zhao Zixuan’s identity proved even more valuable than Zhao Shiyu’s.
Male.
Car owner.
Ideal age.
Nearly every lending platform granted him the maximum available credit.
Three hours later—
1:40 a.m.
Su Jinxiu finally stopped.
Leaning back in the chair, she let out a long breath.
She opened her notebook to a fresh page and began calculating everything.
The pen scratched steadily across the paper.
Loans under her own name:
4.608 million yuan.
Zhao Shiyu’s savings:
870,000 yuan.
Loans under Zhao Shiyu’s name:
5.6 million yuan.
Zhao Zixuan’s savings:
1.23 million yuan.
Loans under Zhao Zixuan’s name:
6.1 million yuan.
She drew a line beneath the figures.
Then wrote the final total.
18.408 million yuan.
Eighteen million, four hundred and eight thousand yuan.
She stared silently at the number, absently tapping the desk with her fingertips.
Over eighteen million yuan.
Converted into supplies, stored inside her interdimensional space, and taken back to 1970…
It would be enough to let her live in comfort for a hundred lifetimes.
And yet…
It still wasn’t enough.
Her gaze drifted from the notebook toward the darkness outside the window.
Far away, to the east, the lights of an upscale riverside residential district glittered against the night.
She had lived there for twenty years.
Now…
Zhao Mingyuan and Liu Wanqing lived there instead.
No one knew Zhao Mingyuan’s finances better than she did.
His retirement account alone held at least 800,000 yuan in savings.
Liu Wanqing possessed even more.
Since taking over Jinxiu Trading Group, the company had earned several million yuan in operating revenue over the past three months alone.
That…
Was where the real money lay.
Closing her notebook, Su Jinxiu took out the old feature phone from her pocket.
Scrolling through the contacts, her finger stopped on one name.
Zhao Mingyuan.
She stared at it for a full ten seconds.
Then…
She pressed Call.
Beep…
Beep…
Beep…
After the third ring, the call connected.
A familiar voice answered.
Older now.
Still calm.
“…Jinxiu?”
His tone carried a trace of surprise.
And a trace of caution.
Su Jinxiu closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
When she spoke again, her voice had transformed.
It sounded exhausted.
Hoarse.
Even slightly choked with emotion.
Like an elderly woman completely crushed by life.
“Mingyuan…”
“I’d like to talk.”
Silence lingered for two seconds.
“About what?”
“Can we meet tomorrow evening?”
Her voice trembled slightly.
“I’ve thought it over.”
“I’m not going to fight over the property anymore.”
“I just want you to tell me the truth in person.”
“After more than forty years together…”
“You owe me an honest answer.”
A long silence followed.
She could almost picture his expression.
Behind those gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes would undoubtedly be calculating.
Weighing gains against losses.
Assessing the situation.
An ex-wife who claimed she was giving up any claim to the property posed no threat.
If anything…
Getting her to sign a formal waiver would solve all his remaining worries.
Just as she’d expected.
Five seconds later, he spoke again.
His tone had even softened with a hint of magnanimity.
“Fine.”
“Tomorrow evening.”
“Seven o’clock.”
“Come to the house.”
“All right.”
“Thank you, Mingyuan.”
The call ended.
Su Jinxiu lowered the phone.
Slowly…
A smile spread across her face.
In the dimly lit apartment, it looked chilling.
She walked to the window and gazed out over the sleeping city.
Countless lights shimmered in the darkness like a silent sea.
Tomorrow.
Seven o’clock.
She had three things in mind.
First…
To slip something into Zhao Mingyuan’s tea.
She had already purchased sleeping pills and stored them inside her interdimensional space.
Second…
After he fell into a deep sleep, she intended to use his phone to transfer every cent from his and Liu Wanqing’s accounts.
Third…
To use both of their identities for one final round of online loan applications.
She raised her hands and looked at the fingers that had grown stiff from hours of typing.
Speaking with the same calmness one might use to comment on the weather, she murmured,
“Zhao Mingyuan…”
“You stole everything I worked for my entire life.”
Her eyes reflected the distant lights shining from the eastern side of the city, where the two people she hated most now lived.
“Now…”
“It’s time to pay it back.”