Snowfall and Scars

Wu Qie could only stare at his phone so hard it felt like he might burn a hole through the screen. After a long moment, he realized his palms were soaked with sweat.

God knew how fast his heart had been beating when he opened that surveillance video. He’d already known how it would end, yet he’d still watched it with the determination of someone marching to their execution.

One day, Zhao Guipu was going to give him a heart attack.

The culprit, meanwhile, had absolutely no shame.

After waiting for half a day and getting no response, Zhao simply called him.

The phone rang twice before Wu Qie picked up.

“Hello.”

A dry, perfunctory greeting. His manners continued to deteriorate. He genuinely didn’t want to exchange pleasantries with the man on the other end.

There was wind in the background. Zhao was probably standing outside somewhere.

A lighter clicked several times.

Click. Click.

Then Zhao laughed softly.

“My lighter’s acting up again.”

Maybe it’s just out of fuel. Put more in it.

Wu Qie complained silently.

“Hm? A-Qie. Still not talking? Are you really that angry?”

He asked the question, but his low voice carried a trace of amusement despite being blurred by the cold wind.

He clearly wasn’t worried.

Because if Wu Qie were truly angry, he wouldn’t have answered the call at all.

He could’ve just hung up.

Wu Qie switched the phone from one ear to the other.

“Did they run technical analysis on the video?”

“I didn’t make it with some free AI website,” Zhao replied casually. “I paid for it.”

For Zhao Guipu to specifically emphasize that he’d paid for it, the cost definitely wasn’t ten or twenty yuan.

Wu Qie almost asked how Zhao had predicted the twins would try to get hold of the surveillance footage from that night.

Then he thought better of it.

Even if he asked, he probably wouldn’t get a serious answer.

Most people acted on instinct.

Those kinds of judgments were hard to explain logically.

“Don’t scare me like that again.”

Zhao was probably experiencing the rare novelty of someone issuing him a threat disguised as an order.

He found it amusing.

He laughed again.

The lighter clicked once more.

This time it caught.

His voice became even lazier as he spoke around a cigarette.

“Your psychological endurance is pretty weak. Have you considered that after seeing the fake I prepared, they still went all the way to investigating my company’s surveillance system because they already had the answer in mind from the start?”

Wu Qie had considered it.

But hearing it said aloud still made him uncomfortable.

The wording felt ominous.

“Can you spit that out?”

Zhao laughed even harder.

The laughter carried the easy confidence of an older man dealing with someone younger.

No matter how childish Wu Qie acted, Zhao found it entertaining.

When he’d laughed enough, he repeated the same thing.

“Nothing’s going to happen. Stop worrying.”

Since Zhao had already gotten ahead of the twins regarding the surveillance footage, his credibility score in Wu Qie’s mind climbed from bankruptcy back to ninety points.

Wu Qie finally relaxed.

“Mm.”

Then, for once, he behaved himself.

“Ge.”

Big brother.

“And… good night.”

Zhao immediately teased him.

Apparently getting a proper respectful title out of Wu Qie was more expensive than getting one out of Zhao Shu.

The teasing made Wu Qie’s face turn red.

He suddenly felt like some ungrateful opportunist who only became polite when he needed something.

Fortunately, before the embarrassment could get worse, another voice came through Zhao’s side of the call, asking why he’d been smoking a single cigarette for so long.

Zhao finally let him off the hook.

“Good night.”

Then he hung up.

The next morning, Zhao Guipu sat in his office watching a video.

A black nanny van sped down a road.

Suddenly a window rolled down.

A silver laptop flew out.

The machine smashed against the pavement and exploded into pieces while nearby pedestrians stared in shock.

After patiently watching the entire thirty-second clip, Zhao turned toward his secretary, Jiang Wei.

“Private military contractors can change their name to ‘foreign security companies’ all they want. At their core, they’re still mercenaries.”

He paused.

“Their professionalism is lacking.”

Jiang Wei wisely kept his mouth shut.

Tonight was the signing banquet with the Visse family.

Unfortunately, his boss clearly had no intention of allowing the evening to pass peacefully.

As expected, Zhao immediately instructed him to contact the same escort from last time.

Jiang Wei promptly dragged Fourth Uncle into the matter.

Fourth Uncle made the call on speaker.

The escort’s answer was simple:

“Sure.”

“Pay extra.”

The entire top floor of Zhao Corporation fell silent.

Zhao let out a disbelieving snort.

“Last time you showed up, drank two glasses of wine, went home, and charged me five million.”

“Now you want an appearance fee for the encore?”

“What am I, running a charity farm?”

The escort—known affectionately as “Duckie”—had apparently just been dragged out of bed.

His northeastern accent hadn’t even been fully suppressed yet.

To be fair, this was normal in the industry.

“Southern ducks sent north, northern ducks sent south.”

The second literal meaning of leaving one’s hometown.

The moment Duckie heard Zhao’s voice, though, all bargaining stopped.

He wilted instantly.

“Fine.”

“I’ll do it.”

“But this is a special exception for you.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“If word gets out, business gets difficult.”

Zhao wondered when exactly his life had become one where he negotiated with escorts first thing in the morning.

Still, he graciously agreed.

That evening, Zhao Guipu arrived at the banquet.

A black-haired Beta was hanging from his arm.

This time Duckie had clearly been warned beforehand.

He behaved impeccably.

Polite.

Respectful.

His eyes stayed exactly where they were supposed to.

At this point, the only thing missing was a full aristocratic bow.

“I heard the Visse gentlemen are quite fond of my companion.”

Zhao’s smile was flawless.

“So naturally, I had no choice but to bring him again tonight.”

Beside him, the Beta smiled nervously.

Across the room, Bitta Visse remained composed.

Rhein Visse did not.

His face turned green.

The fingers holding his champagne glass tightened until they nearly snapped the stem.

The expression suggested he was imagining Zhao Guipu’s neck instead.

At the end of the banquet, Bitta approached Zhao.

With a smile, he requested the Beta.

The Beta’s name was Xiaotian.

Zhao detached Xiaotian from his arm with remarkable generosity and handed him over.

Xiaotian’s face immediately paled.

Still.

He’d known exactly what he was signing up for.

Zhao Guipu was ruthless.

But he was also famously fair.

The terms had been laid out clearly from the beginning.

Across all of Jiang City’s entertainment industry, Xiaotian might have been the only escort who’d ever had to sign something resembling a death waiver.

If he survived—

His status would skyrocket.

Anyone who could claim they’d survived the Visse twins would become legendary.

And the fee alone was five million yuan.

Five million.

One job.

Then he could quit.

Go home.

Open a small supermarket.

Live peacefully for the rest of his life.

Worth it.

At least in theory.

After showering, grooming himself perfectly, and applying a subtle scent around his neck, Xiaotian prepared for the evening.

He knew most clients who chose him preferred Betas.

He knew exactly how to present himself.

When he stepped out, Zhao’s driver was waiting.

The man delivered a message.

“Mr. Zhao says it’s not too late to regret this.”

“You can still walk away with one million.”

Xiaotian laughed.

“So we’re doing philosophy questions now?”

Two buttons.

Press the yellow one and receive one million.

Press the blue one and have a fifty-percent chance of getting five million.

Without hesitation—

He chose blue.

Then he entered the elevator and headed for the top floor.