Honey, my phone broke and it’s being repaired, so I’m using my backup phone. Could you send me the PIN for your ICBC bank card? I need to transfer some money for you tomorrow.
She hit Send.
Leaning against the hallway wall, she waited in silence.
The motion-sensor light went out, but she didn’t move. She simply stood there in the darkness.
The glow of the phone screen reflected off her face like a cold mask.
Eight seconds later, Liu Wanqing replied.
Sure, hubby. The PIN is 198510. Oh, and could you redeem that investment for me tomorrow too? I want to buy a bigger handbag.
Su Jinxiu stared at the kiss emoji for two seconds, the corner of her mouth twitching faintly.
198510.
October 1985.
Liu Wanqing’s birthday.
Even her bank card PIN had to be her own birthday—as if she wanted the whole world to revolve around her.
Su Jinxiu memorized the six digits, exited the chat without replying, and opened the Notes app on Zhao Mingyuan’s phone.
She knew him too well.
He had a habit of recording every password imaginable in his notes—door codes, safe combinations, even the Wi-Fi password.
Forty years of marriage had taught her all his habits.
Sure enough, the third note from the bottom read:
Wanqing’s apartment door code: 091210
A faint smile crossed Su Jinxiu’s lips.
She locked the screen and headed toward the elevator.
The hallway light came back on, illuminating her slender figure as she walked away.
Inside the elevator, she didn’t waste a second.
She took out her own phone, opened a browser, and launched one final round of online loan applications using Zhao Mingyuan’s identity.
At sixty-eight, his age worked against him, and several platforms rejected him outright.
But he still owned valuable real estate, a car, and received a generous pension. According to the credit system, his financial profile remained excellent.
After all, there was always a delay before banking systems reflected recent transactions. None of the platforms knew his accounts had just been emptied.
Huimin Enterprise Loan—¥150,000.
Approved.
Jin’an Credit—¥200,000.
Approved.
Zhongxin Finance required a verification call.
Lowering her voice, Su Jinxiu perfectly imitated Zhao Mingyuan’s calm, measured tone.
“Yes… I’m renovating my old house. The budget ran a little over… Right, I just need some temporary cash flow.”
¥300,000.
Approved.
During the twenty-minute taxi ride, she successfully cleared six different lending platforms.
After arriving outside Liu Wanqing’s upscale Luming Garden residential complex, she remained inside the taxi for another five minutes, finishing the last two applications.
Loans obtained under Zhao Mingyuan’s name: ¥3.2 million.
She closed her phone, paid the fare, and stepped out.
Luming Garden.
Average property price: ¥80,000 per square meter.
The 140-square-meter, three-bedroom apartment had been purchased three years ago.
Down payment: ¥1.1 million.
Monthly mortgage: ¥15,000.
Where had the money come from?
From the accounts of Jinxiu Trading Group.
The transfer had been disguised as an “employee housing subsidy.”
The signature approving it?
Zhao Mingyuan.
The final authorization?
Also Zhao Mingyuan.
Standing at the entrance, Su Jinxiu used the access QR code saved on Zhao Mingyuan’s phone.
The security door unlocked.
Seventeenth floor.
Apartment 1702.
Standing outside the apartment, she entered six digits into the smart lock.
091210
Beep.
The lock clicked open.
As she stepped inside, the foyer lights came on automatically.
The air carried the fragrance of scented candles and fresh flowers—a complete contrast to Zhao Zixuan’s filthy apartment that reeked of instant noodles, cigarettes, and dirty socks.
Changing into the guest slippers by the shoe cabinet, she slowly walked into the living room.
Then she stopped.
Everywhere she looked…
She saw money.
The living room sofa was an imported Poltrona Frau, worth well over ¥300,000.
The custom black walnut coffee table had easily cost another ¥50,000.
Two carefully pruned fiddle-leaf fig trees stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows in handcrafted blue-and-white Jingdezhen porcelain planters.
An eighty-five-inch Sony television dominated the feature wall, paired with an expensive Bang & Olufsen surround sound system.
Then…
Her gaze froze.
A photo wall.
Twelve framed photographs decorated the white wall in an elegant arrangement.
One showed Liu Wanqing and Zhao Mingyuan in Bali, dressed in matching vacation outfits while Zhao Mingyuan wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling like a lovestruck young man.
Another was the exact same afternoon tea picture Liu Wanqing had posted with Zhao Shiyu.
There was also a picture of Liu Wanqing and Zhao Zixuan. For once, he was wearing a proper dress shirt instead of casual clothes, flashing a cheerful peace sign beside her.
At the center hung the largest photograph.
A family portrait.
Liu Wanqing sat proudly in the middle.
Zhao Mingyuan stood behind her.
Zhao Shiyu and Zhao Zixuan stood on either side.
All four smiled happily into the camera.
A perfect family of four.
The only person missing…
Was Su Jinxiu.
She stood before the photo wall expressionlessly for an entire minute.
Then she turned and entered the master bedroom.
The first drawer of the bedside table.
Just as expected.
Liu Wanqing’s ID card.
Four bank cards.
She picked up the ICBC card, opened the banking app, entered the card number, and typed the PIN.
198510.
When the balance appeared, Su Jinxiu nearly laughed out loud.
¥9,873,441.22
Almost ten million yuan in cash sat quietly inside Liu Wanqing’s account.
Three months of Jinxiu Trading Group’s operating income…
Company dividends…
And all the money Liu Wanqing had siphoned away over the years…
It was all here.
Su Jinxiu took a deep breath.
Then she began transferring the money.
One million.
Transferred.
Another million.
Transferred.
Another.
Transferred.
She didn’t even bother writing it down this time.
She simply counted silently.
Ten transfers.
Twenty transfers.
Then she switched to another card.
China Construction Bank.
She tried the PIN.
Still 198510.
Liu Wanqing’s sense of security was laughably nonexistent.
CCB balance:
¥2.34 million.
Transferred.
Agricultural Bank:
¥1.08 million.
Transferred.
Bank of Communications:
¥670,000.
Transferred.
Alipay balance:
¥210,000.
Transferred.
Forty minutes later…
Every accessible cent under Liu Wanqing’s name—
¥9,873,441.22
—had disappeared.
Not a single yuan remained.
But Su Jinxiu still wasn’t finished.
She sat at Liu Wanqing’s vanity, opened her laptop, and began the final round of loan applications.
Liu Wanqing.
Forty-five years old.
Legal representative of Jinxiu Trading Group.
Owner of a luxury home.
Luxury car.
Successful company.
Monthly income?
Su Jinxiu casually entered ¥150,000.
After all, she had founded the company herself.
She could fabricate convincing financial figures with her eyes closed.
Credit history?
Spotless.
Never borrowed money.
Never missed a payment.
A perfect target.
First platform.
¥250,000.
Instant approval.
Second platform.
¥300,000.
Phone verification.
Su Jinxiu switched to a sweet, coquettish female voice.
She had just listened to Liu Wanqing’s voice message on Zhao Mingyuan’s phone.
Imitating it was effortless.
“Yes, that’s me~ The company just needs a little cash flow for now… Okay, thank you so much~”
¥300,000.
Approved.
Third platform.
Fourth.
Fifth…
Two hours later.
2:00 a.m.
Loans obtained under Liu Wanqing’s name: ¥4.3 million.
Su Jinxiu shut the laptop and leaned back, rubbing her aching wrist.
She rose and returned to the living room.
Standing before the photo wall, she gave the “family portrait” one final glance.
The four smiling faces looked especially dazzling beneath the warm spotlights.
A faint smile appeared on her lips.
Then—
With a single thought—
“Store.”
The Poltrona Frau sofa vanished without a trace.
“Store.”
The black walnut coffee table disappeared.
“Store.”
The eighty-five-inch Sony television.
The Bang & Olufsen sound system.
Gone.
“Store.”
The refrigerator.
The washing machine.
The dryer.
Gone.
She walked into the walk-in closet.
Three walls of custom wardrobes overflowed with coats, dresses, scarves, and designer clothing.
Three full rows of shoe racks held at least sixty pairs—from Jimmy Choo to Roger Vivier.
Above them sat two neatly organized rows of luxury handbags.
Hermès.
Chanel.
Louis Vuitton.
Dior.
It looked like a miniature luxury boutique.
Su Jinxiu swept her eyes across everything.
Without the slightest hesitation—
“Store.”
Every piece of clothing vanished.
“Store.”
All sixty pairs of shoes disappeared.
“Store.”
Every handbag was gone.
She entered the kitchen.
Pots.
Pans.
Imported cookware.
The built-in coffee machine.
The built-in oven.
Everything disappeared.
Then the bathroom.
La Mer moisturizer.
SK-II Facial Treatment Essence.
Complete luxury skincare collections.
Gone.
The bedroom.
The bed.
Mattress.
Sheets.
Down comforter.
Goose-down pillows.
Gone.
The curtains.
Gone.
Bedside lamps.
Gone.
Finally, she stood in the center of the empty living room.
The entire apartment had been stripped bare.
Nothing remained except white walls and tiled floors.
She hadn’t even spared the light fixtures.
The chandelier on the ceiling disappeared as well.
Su Jinxiu slowly looked around the hollow shell that had once been a lavish home.
Satisfied, she nodded.
“Liu Wanqing…”
Her quiet voice echoed softly through the empty apartment.
“When you come home tomorrow…”
“I hope you enjoy finding out what it truly feels like…”
“…to lose absolutely everything.”