When Ruan An’an approached, the tall man at the front was twirling a knife, the sharp tip pointed right at her.
She showed no fear and spoke calmly: “You guys are really something! You’ve already decided to ‘shake down’ me, so why bother moving all the stuff I bought to the gate? What, got too much energy and nowhere to use it?”
Her tone was casual, like chatting about the weather.
The knife in Qiao Wu’s hand froze mid-twirl, and his uneven eyes flickered with surprise.
“Not bad… clearly someone who’s been under Boss Zhou’s protection has some sense!”
He stepped closer, his voice suddenly cold.
“But no matter how impressive Boss Zhou was, that’s ancient history! Around here, I, Qiao Wu, make the rules!”
He lifted his chin, pointing to the vendors cowering behind him.
“And why move everything out? Auntie bought so much—surely the bosses here should all benefit a bit, make some hard-earned money, right?”
“Oh?” Ruan An’an’s tone took on a playful note, as if hearing something amusing. “Then according to your rules, Mr. Qiao Wu, how do you plan to handle this matter today?”
“Simple!”
Qiao Wu spread his hands. His greedy gaze slithered over the bulging pockets of her coat like a venomous snake, his words matter-of-fact: “The stuff—you’re not taking it. And the money? Forget about getting back what you already paid.”
He grinned, revealing his white teeth. “If I’m not mistaken, Auntie, you still have plenty of ‘Great Unity’ bills in your pocket, right? If you want to walk out of this gate with anything, hand over the rest obediently.”
“Ha!” Ruan An’an couldn’t help laughing.
In this world, slogans might thunder outside, but every loophole in the gray areas is exploited.
But…
A cold glint flashed in her eyes.
If this place doesn’t follow rules, then she wouldn’t hold back either.
Seeing her laugh, Qiao Wu and his men thought the old woman had lost her mind. Snarling, he said, “What’s so funny? Laugh again, and this knife won’t have eyes…”
No sooner had he finished speaking!
Qiao Wu suddenly felt the knife in his hand grow light—the swirling knife he had been brandishing… vanished into thin air!
Yes, vanished! Not even a trace remained!
Ruan An’an had already gauged the distance, and with a mere thought, the knife was silently drawn into her space.
Playing with knives? Joke’s on you. I have a cheat, kid—two meters away you swagger, within two meters, I’m invincible.
She feigned a sigh, exaggeratingly rubbed her eyes: “Oh, big brother, Auntie’s eyes aren’t what they used to be. Your… shiny knife? Where did it go? Magic trick, perhaps?”
Qiao Wu was stunned—completely, utterly stunned.
He opened his empty hand, glanced around in confusion: “Damn! Where’s my knife?”
“F-Fifth brother…” The jar vendor closest to him stammered, “Didn’t you hide the knife?”
Another thug gasped, his voice trembling: “Fifth brother… what kind of sleight of hand are you playing? Is the knife in your sleeve?”
“Hide my ass!” Qiao Wu, furious, tore off his old leather jacket, shaking it wildly. “Damn it! Is this some kind of ghost trick?!”
A chill instantly crept up his spine.
The entire factory fell into a deathly silence!
Even the chickens, ducks, and piglets in their cages went quiet, as if their throats had been pinched.
Everyone’s eyes, filled with disbelief and fear, focused sharply on Ruan An’an.
She slowly lifted her hand, pulling the green scarf further over her face, revealing only a pair of eyes as cold as a frozen pond. Her voice, muffled by the thick cloth, carried an eerie, drifting quality:
“Black-on-black… that’s a rule for people. But open your eyes and see…”
She deliberately paused, sweeping her gaze across every terrified face. “Am…I… even a ‘person’?”
Qiao Wu, infuriated by her ghostly act, felt his fear instantly replaced by rage.
He grabbed a broken-legged stool at his feet, swung it with all his might, wind whistling, aiming at Ruan An’an.
“Playing ghost in front of me? I was raised to destroy superstitions…”
Ruan An’an didn’t even lift an eyelid. With a casual flick of her hand, the incoming stool… vanished!
Qiao Wu now truly exerted all his strength, but the target had disappeared, and his massive momentum hurled him forward two steps. With a loud “thud,” he crashed hard into the dirt, face first.
Ruan An’an sneered in disdain, tapping the tip of his protruding backside with her toe: “It’s not even New Year yet, making so much noise bowing… Auntie’s got no red envelopes for you.”
“F*ck…” Qiao Wu, humiliated beyond belief, struggled to rise, wanting to curse.
“Hm?”
Suddenly, an icy, deathly hard object pressed against his sweaty forehead without warning!
Qiao Wu froze; every curse got stuck in his throat.
He looked up in terror, meeting Ruan An’an’s half-lidded eyes.
Though her full face was hidden, the mocking, frozen disdain in her gaze felt like falling into an ice pit.
Ruan An’an raised her thick-soled foot, pressing down on his back, forcing his lifted head back into the mud.
Leaning slightly, she tapped his temple with the barrel of her gun—not heavy, not light—her voice colder than winter ice:
“I’m not a patient person. What I hate most is… people running their mouths, cursing everything under the sun.”
She pressed down a little more, grinding him: “Go on, scream again… are you naturally quiet, or did a cat steal your tongue?”
The cold barrel and weight on his back made Qiao Wu wet himself instantly.
Cold sweat streamed down his temples like a little river. His hands flailed upward, shaking like autumn leaves: “Auntie! Auntie, spare me! I was wrong! I…I… my mouth was loose! I deserve to die! I’ll never do it again! Spare me!”
Ruan An’an’s voice remained slow and deliberate, tracing small circles on his forehead with the gun:
“The most worthless thing in this world is an ‘I’m sorry.’”
Her tone suddenly hardened: “Otherwise, I could blow your head off and THEN say ‘sorry.’ How’s that sound?”
“No! No no no! Auntie! Ancestors!”
Qiao Wu’s soul seemed to leave his body; snot and tears smeared his face. He regretted everything.
He had chosen the fattest sheep, only to find… a living Yama, the King of Hell!
“Money! I’ll give back all the money! Every single cent! No—double it! Just spare my dog’s life!”
“Money?” Ruan An’an seemed to remember, and with a sleight-of-hand flourish, another gun appeared in her hand.
The dark muzzle instantly aimed at the group of vendors already trembling in terror.
A few of the timid ones immediately collapsed to the ground.
The jar vendor, pale as death, desperately shrank back.
Her voice rose sharply, filled with ice-cold authority and lethal intent:
“Everything you collected from me today—principal and interest—hand it all over! Not a single penny missing!”
“Or else…”
She paused deliberately, the gun slowly sweeping across each pale face before stopping on the trembling jar vendor.
“I’ll give it! I’ll give it immediately!”
The jar vendor broke first, shaking as he dug out a damp, crumpled roll of cash from his pants.
Not daring to look at Ruan An’an, he stuffed it all into the bamboo basket at her feet.
“Auntie! The money! It’s all here! One hundred bucks! Please count!”
Ruan An’an glanced at the bills, damp and suspiciously warm, wrinkled her nose in disgust, but the gun didn’t waver. She coldly said two words: “Not enough.”
Her gaze, like solid ice spikes, pierced Qiao Wu and the group of trembling vendors:
“The rules of ‘black-on-black’ in the underworld… you all understand them, right? Hm?”