Chapter Seven: Pay? What for!

Hei Yu moved quickly; in less than five minutes, he had retraced his steps along the road. Now, the middle-aged man whose thread of luck Hei Yu had severed was surrounded by a crowd—some even took out their phones to record him. Hei Yu glanced over. Was that guy livestreaming?

People these days were truly baffling. Had he himself just been recorded and uploaded online? After rescuing the person, he would check to see if he had made it onto the trending topics.

His steps were light, and as he passed, the onlookers didn’t sense the presence of a two-hundred-pound man walking behind them. The enhancement was proving to be quite effective.

In less than two minutes, he arrived at the site of the family massacre, hidden deep within the urban village. This place was best avoided; every visit seemed to stir up trouble.

Hei Yu strode into the house. As before, the rusty front door wasn’t locked. Perhaps that was the best camouflage—a house abandoned for years, its door mottled with rust, but suddenly fitted with a conspicuously new lock would only invite suspicion. Anyone would notice the incongruity. Then again, who would bother to check whether the lock on this house was old or new? Still, there were always busybodies in the world. Better safe than sorry.

Those who commit evil always think more than others; once exposed, there’s nothing left but a life on the run.

Hei Yu entered, picking up an abandoned iron pipe and using his phone’s flashlight to illuminate his way. He searched each room quietly, one by one. Nearly every door was open, evidence that people had once lived here—some furniture still remained.

Two passing rats glanced at him, lost interest, and scurried away.

After searching the first floor, he found nothing but discarded furniture. He continued upstairs.

The house was truly spacious. With a bit of renovation, renting it out in such a prime spot within the urban village would surely attract tenants. Who would turn away from money? Yet here were a dozen rooms left empty.

People in this provincial capital must be wealthy, Hei Yu mused.

At the end of the second floor, he found a room with the door closed. Hei Yu picked up a stone and threw it at the iron door.

Bang.

He waited in the corner, iron pipe in hand, to see if any kidnappers would emerge. No one answered. No sounds of someone calling for help.

Boldness had grown within Hei Yu, perhaps due to the system’s interference. Since no one responded, he strode to the door and kicked it open—it was ajar, swinging easily.

Inside, as he had seen in the middle-aged man’s memory, wild grass grew in patches. Most puzzling, the woman’s hands and feet were not bound. Her face matched the one from the man’s memory—although her eyes had been covered in the memory, the other features were unmistakable.

The woman sat calmly in a chair, scrolling on her phone, a large suitcase beside her. Behind her was a bed, not one left by the previous owner, but new, piled with bedding.

“Hmph!” She glanced at Hei Yu, showing no surprise at his sudden entrance, her gaze filled with disdain, then resumed looking at her phone.

Hei Yu felt bewildered. Why wasn’t she behaving as expected? He had come to rescue her, but she didn’t look like a victim, and her contemptuous expression left him unsure.

Soon, the woman displayed a payment code to Hei Yu.

“Pay first.”

“Pay for what?” Hei Yu was confused. She demanded payment right away, but for what?

He couldn’t make sense of the situation. What was going on?

Certain she was not kidnapped, Hei Yu turned to leave.

This time, however, the woman was displeased. She blocked his way, adopting a domineering stance.

“Hey, you think you can leave without paying? Believe me, Brother Black Tiger will give you trouble.”

Hei Yu glanced at her, saying nothing.

Pay? Pay your uncle.

He only had the two hundred he earned this morning as a temp actor—or rather, after buying a box of roast goose, only about one hundred and forty remained.

His account was empty, as usual.

Having wasted a trip, Hei Yu hadn’t even charged her for his trouble. Not to mention, he’d let the assassin from Japan slip away while coming to rescue her; who knew whose life that killer was plotting against now?

If only the assassin sought him out. But according to the description of the “Thousand Mile Transfer Technique,” severing the thread of luck also erased the victim’s memory of the thief—a protective measure for the user, especially since the first layer required close contact, such as tapping someone’s shoulder, which was risky.

Reflecting on his mistaken judgment—the possibility he’d endangered more people—Hei Yu felt guilt and anger.

His face darkened, turning grim and menacing.

The woman was startled, quickly stepping aside to let him leave.

Hei Yu said nothing and walked out. Cursing under his breath, he glimpsed the contents of her suitcase—shameful items.

He understood now. The middle-aged man’s memory had been nothing more than a glimpse of someone seeking pleasure, indulging in humiliating games. Hei Yu had seen only a small fragment, mistakenly believing the woman was kidnapped.

She was, in fact, a fallen woman.

A hateful profession.

Hei Yu gritted his teeth, determined not to cross paths with this so-called Black Tiger.

Leaving the dilapidated house, Hei Yu took out his phone—not the foldable one, but his own large-screen model bought for a few hundred yuan, a basic phone for the elderly.

Hei Yu hadn’t cared if it was an old person’s phone—cheap and functional, that was enough.

Did people nowadays buy cheap phones for their parents out of convenience? Truly unfilial.

He remembered he hadn’t contacted his family in five years.

Best keep quiet.

His phone had two messages—one was a monthly fee deduction.

The other was more intriguing: offering a loan of one hundred thousand, no collateral, no interest.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time Hei Yu had received such messages. The first time, he was a sophomore, excited at the prospect of not having to worry about startup funds.

He even recruited a few close friends, drafted a business plan, and planned to start a business while still in college.

His friends thought Hei Yu’s family had struck it rich; when asked, he simply said his family gave him one hundred thousand to start a business.

After several months of hard work, the team had everything in place—budget, suppliers, the works.

Only then did Hei Yu call the number from the message, and it frightened him. The person on the line chatted for a while, realized Hei Yu wasn’t part of a scam, but genuinely seeking a loan, and told him he was a police officer.

The officer was kind, taking the opportunity to explain the tricks of predatory loans and share tragic cases of those ensnared by such schemes, urging Hei Yu not to be deceived.

Though Hei Yu’s startup never materialized, he was grateful to have avoided the trap of predatory lending.

Now, he dialed the number from the message.

A faint smile played on his lips; earlier, he’d wondered who to vent his frustration on. With nowhere to go on this late night—neither tired nor hungry—he might as well bait a scammer… no, just have a chat.