A New Life and a Familiar Debt

“If you don’t behave, I won’t hesitate to use the Immortal Binding Talisman to restrain you.”

Bai Wanwan peeled the Immortal Binding Talisman from the floor. Deprived of its purpose, the talisman instantly crumbled into a pile of ashes, dissipating into the air.

‘It was undeniably cool!’

A wave of secret delight washed over Bai Wanwan. All those years of study, she had dismissed it as mere theatrics, yet to her surprise, it genuinely worked.

With such capabilities at her disposal, wouldn’t settling her three-hundred-million debt be a mere trifle?

And once she was free, armed with these newfound skills, wouldn’t she be able to do anything her heart desired?

‘Imagine: an endless parade of beautiful maidens, sprawling mansions, luxurious yachts, and sleek sports cars. She’d count money until her hands ached, free from all worries, waking each day in a bed spanning thousands of square meters, attended by countless maidens in maid uniforms. For breakfast, she’d drink one bowl of soy milk and casually discard another.’

‘The mere thought of such a life was exhilarating.’

“I won’t, I promise.”

Having regained her freedom of movement, Liu Hanzhi’s first impulse was to meticulously tidy up the chaotic state of Bai Wanwan’s home.

She rose onto her tiptoes, carefully peeling the dark red ‘囍’ character from the windowpane. As she gazed at the symbol she had painstakingly cut, a peculiar sense of loss settled over her.

Just as Liu Hanzhi was engrossed in tidying the room, a sudden knock echoed from the door.

Bai Wanwan paused, a flicker of surprise crossing her face, while Liu Hanzhi, too, adopted a fearful expression.

After all, Bai Wanwan was currently burdened with a three-hundred-million debt. Surely, it wouldn’t be unusual for debt collectors, perhaps even enforcers, to show up at her door, would it?

If the creditors merely resorted to an onslaught of text messages and harassing phone calls, it almost seemed as though failing to repay the debt wouldn’t have severe consequences.

After all, her personal safety wouldn’t be jeopardized; at worst, she could simply change her phone and number, relocate, and begin a new life.

Such debt collection methods were designed to deter gentlemen, not to stop scoundrels.

Thus, in-person debt collection was inevitable, though some approaches were far from civil.

“Debt collectors?”

Liu Hanzhi instinctively inquired.

Otherwise, with such an early knock, Liu Hanzhi genuinely couldn’t fathom who else it might be.

“I doubt it,”

Bai Wanwan shook her head.

“Though I owe a substantial sum, those individuals have always pursued their debts through phone calls and text messages. They’ve never once shown up at my door.”

Neither in the three days since Bai Wanwan’s rebirth, nor within the memories of the original Bai Wanwan, had there been any record of in-person debt collection. Even the phone calls and text messages were delivered with an attitude that could hardly be described as hostile.

In stark contrast, the recruitment companies that had rejected Bai Wanwan’s resume had displayed an attitude far more disdainful than any debt collector.

‘Like that nightclub from before…’

“Exactly what kind of debt are you burdened with?”

“It’s a family debt, a sum of three hundred million. If anything were to happen to me, they’d never recover their money.”

As she spoke, Bai Wanwan leaned in to peer through the peephole. The sky was just beginning to lighten, and the corridor remained shrouded in dimness, making it difficult to discern much beyond a few figures in suits, each clutching a briefcase and a folder.

Another person stood behind them, holding what appeared to be a recording device, lending an air of extreme formality to the scene.

Bai Wanwan, however, harbored no fear of individuals dressed so impeccably. Her true concern lay with burly men sporting shaved heads and tattooed arms, brandishing clubs.

Click.

Bai Wanwan unlatched the door. She surmised that these visitors were likely connected to her outstanding debts.

“Miss Bai Wanwan, I presume?”

“I am. And you are?”

Upon seeing Bai Wanwan open the door, the well-dressed men standing outside promptly spoke.

“Identity confirmed. In that case, this is for you.”

The leading man, impeccably suited, courteously presented a folder to Bai Wanwan.

Bai Wanwan gazed at the folder, a wave of bewilderment washing over her. Inside, she found a company ownership transfer agreement for a business specializing in funeral supplies.

Yet, this company’s financial health was in utter disarray, deep in the red—a state so dire it was practically unsalvageable.

Nevertheless, the paperwork appeared complete, and the company’s name struck her as oddly familiar.

‘Wangsheng Pavilion?’

Bai Wanwan recalled that the live-streaming company she had applied to also seemed to bear the name Wangsheng Pavilion.

Even the sole blank account her live-streaming profile followed was named Wangsheng Pavilion.

All the funeral supplies they sold bore the Wangsheng Pavilion logo and watermark. This was, by all accounts, a fully compliant and legitimate company, authorized to operate in a wide array of funeral-related categories.

The only pity was that the company was saddled with significant external debts—a staggering sum exceeding two million!