After Reuniting, My Beautiful Ex-Lover Fishes for Me Every Day - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Mantis and the Oriole

Watching the fluctuating expressions on CEO Shen’s face as fat folded upon fat, Wei Changli anticipated the man’s next move to call for help. He leaned forward slightly, pinning down Shen Shuqiang’s hand as it reached for the call button.

In the next instant, a scream tore through the middle-aged man’s throat, only to be swallowed by the gentle, refined melody of the Huangmei Opera, muffled entirely by the excellently soundproofed inner chamber—

Wei Changli had dislocated the man’s arm.

“Someone! Someone come here… Doctor! Security!” Shen Shuqiang’s features shriveled together in agony. He roared in a fit of exasperated rage, “How can you touch me… How dare you touch me!”

“Whether I can or whether I dare,” Wei Changli repeated in his pleasant voice, tossing the immobile arm aside and casually grabbing Shen’s other arm. His tone was as natural as if they were discussing what to have for dinner: “Haven’t I already done it?”

Shen Shuqiang struggled brutishly, but his strength was hollow and he had no assistants nearby; he was like a fat sheep for the slaughter, controlled under the young man’s palms.

“No, you wouldn’t dare touch me…” Shen Shuqiang said through gritted teeth. “Do you think you’re still the Wei family young master? Do you think anyone is still protecting you? If you dare touch me today, I’ll make sure you rot in jail!”

A cold laugh came from above the man’s head. His entire body stiffened as he looked up to meet Wei Changli’s gaze.

At this moment, the young man’s eyes were as cold as a cavern beneath a polar glacier, piercing with the freezing light of perennial ice. He revealed unmasked murderous intent; this elegant and indifferent wealthy scion actually possessed a desperate ruthlessness, like a fugitive driven to a dead end seeking revenge!

Does he want to perish together with me?!

Shen Shuqiang’s heart sank abruptly. A shiver of fear, like an electric shock, traveled from his shoulder joint to his brain. His lips trembled uncontrollably, and he felt a sudden chill throughout his body—

He knew all too well the state this person was in. “The barefoot man does not fear the one wearing shoes.” If Wei Changli truly intended to fight him to the death, he would definitely be in for a world of trouble today!

In a flash, the man’s brain whirled rapidly. After a surge of adrenaline, he finally managed to claw back a sliver of cheap composure:

“You come to take revenge on me now, but don’t you want to know who those people blocking you were? Those rats in the gutter work for me. Even if they didn’t succeed today… tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that! They will haunt you just the same! Only I can make them stop. Wei Changli, if you touch me, everything is over!”

Wei Changli sneered in his heart. A bunch of scrap metal like that—only a “paper tiger” bastard like Shen Shuqiang would use them as if they were divine weapons. Listening to his blustering posture, one would think CEO Shen had spent a fortune to maintain a band of death-sworn assassins.

He asked: “Oh, is that so? Then I’m curious. They’ll haunt me constantly—to what extent do they plan to go with me?”

Shen Shuqiang swallowed hard, hesitating and remaining silent.

Wei Changli narrowed his eyes, exuding a chilling aura of killing intent: “Speak.”

Shen Shuqiang didn’t know how far the group had gotten last night. He guiltily avoided the other’s gaze, his lips muttering: “Actually, it was nothing. I just had them block you in the alley to teach you a lesson… But! If you dare touch me, they’ll definitely make you suffer—Ah! I’ll f*ck your—”

In the next moment, a scream once again broke from the man’s throat as his other arm was cleanly and decisively dislocated by Wei Changli. Having spent his days “commanding the winds” in the lap of luxury, how could Shen Shuqiang withstand this? He broke into a layer of cold sweat.

He had never suffered such agony. What little reason he had for maneuvering vanished instantly. He could only cry out in pain uncontrollably. However, whether it was because the soundproofing of this outrageously expensive VIP ward was too good or the nurses were collectively absent, even at this point, no one rushed in to stop Wei Changli.

This CEO Shen cursed Wei Changli, the gang of thugs, and eighteen generations of the nursing home staff thousands of times in his heart. But in reality, he could only submit. Enduring the fear, he spat out everything he had done:

“I… I also gave them a few bags of inhalable powder… for aphrodisiac purposes. The potency of stuff brought in from abroad is fierce; it can keep a person excited for days. You can’t buy this medicine on the market… but it’s used in many places for ‘gang-bangs.’ It has miraculous effects when recording videos, but it’s extremely taxing on the body. After one session, the person is… basically ruined. If they don’t die, they’ll be half-crippled.”

A layer of icy amusement finally flickered in Wei Changli’s pitch-black pupils: “CEO Shen, what grudge do I have with you that warrants using such methods against me? Just because I wouldn’t let you ‘sponsor’ me?”

“Yes, yes… it’s my fault. Let me go. If you let me go, I won’t… won’t pursue this matter today!” Shen Shuqiang gritted his teeth as he looked at Wei Changli, only to see a mocking arch in the young man’s single eyebrow.

Then, the young man leaned down gracefully, closing the distance with the man who was shaking like a sieve, staring eye-to-eye, nose-to-nose.

He asked: “If I let you go today, you won’t pursue it?”

Shen Shuqiang nodded frantically.

Wei Changli: “Do you think I’m stupid?”

Shen Shuqiang continued to nod, then suddenly realized and shook his head like a rattle.

Seeing that Wei Changli still had no intention of letting him go, the man finally collapsed, roaring out of control: “I was wrong! I shouldn’t have provoked you… I—”

With a “thud,” Shen Shuqiang’s head snapped back and knocked against the bed rail.

He had fainted from fright.

This man suffered from chronic physical weakness and “kidney deficiency,” plus he already had an external injury on his head. With the terror and the surge of blood to his head, he failed to catch his breath, rolled his eyes, and passed out… It is clear that those with a guilty conscience are most afraid of a “ghost knocking at the door.”

Seeing him unconscious, the murderous ferocity on Wei Changli’s face faded with practiced ease, replaced by an unmasked sneer.

The young master propped the fainted Shen Shuqiang up against the bed. Like fiddling with a toy, he popped the two dislocated arms back into place. He looked down at Shen Shuqiang with immense disgust, then turned to crush the petals of the blooming white chrysanthemums in the vase, scattering them around the man’s bloated and hollow body as if making an offering to the dead.

Layers of white chrysanthemum petals fell in heaps. Finally, not a single petal remained in Wei Changli’s cupped palm. A faint scent of chrysanthemum lingered around his fingers. In his hand, there remained only a miniature recording device—hidden within the complex flower buds to bypass security—glowing with a soft, steady green light.

The corners of his lips hooked slightly, pulling into a beautiful but temperatureless smile:

“Life for a life, rotting in jail? You’ve done so many shameful things; aren’t you afraid of the backlash?”

Wei Changli did not linger. Taking the recorded evidence, he left, as nimble as a tabby cat leaping onto a roof after the rain.

The ward returned to a brief silence, leaving only the Huangmei Opera “yi-yi-ya-ya-ing” around Shen Shuqiang. But soon, the melodic and delicate singing was interrupted again by the sound of the door opening. The lobby manager who had been holding the white chrysanthemums earlier led a doctor and another visitor inside.

That visitor was clearly of no small significance; both the manager and the doctor showed even greater respect.

They didn’t stay long after entering. The visitor simply checked the condition of the fainted Shen Shuqiang, then picked up the medical chart hanging by the bed. After a quick glance, he spoke up: “The head wound is about 8 centimeters long?”

8 centimeters—the minimum standard for a legal identification of “minor injury.”

The doctor froze, then spoke respectfully and tactfully: “Actually, it’s 8 centimeters ‘on the left’ (approximately). Writing it this way is indeed not quite standard… but because the patient’s family was quite insistent, the hospital had no choice.”

The visitor smiled upon hearing this. He handed the chart back to the doctor and casually pulled out the remaining stalks of white chrysanthemums from the vase, seemingly prepared to take them as he left.

The other two in the room didn’t know what this meant and moved to follow. But the visitor suddenly turned back. His beautiful eyes were hidden in the shadows, yet they seemed to shimmer with a soul-stirring light.

The visitor’s voice was light and steady, harmonizing perfectly with the tune of the Huangmei Opera:

“Write 7.9.”

…

It was already afternoon when Wei Changli emerged from the nursing home. The sunlight, nearly burning into twilight, brushed away his aura of hostility. He originally intended to find a nearby subway station to go straight home, but while following his phone’s GPS navigation, he happened to pass a pet shop.

The young man, who had been walking along the street, stopped silently. The soft light inside the shop shone through the bright glass wall onto the tips of his hair and the bridge of his nose. He stood there by himself for a while, his thick eyelashes suddenly fluttering gently.

He pushed the door open, and the small welcome chime on the glass door rang crisply.

“Welcome! Is there anything you’d like to look at?” The shop assistant was a cute girl with a baby face. She put down the drowsy kitten in her arms and came over to greet Wei Changli.

In the past, Young Master Wei’s experiences of visiting a pet shop in person were quite limited. He could only speak with an unfamiliar politeness: “May I come in and look around?”

“Of course,” the baby-faced assistant gave him a sweet smile and spoke familiarly, “Do you prefer kittens, puppies, or other small animals? Do you already have a ‘fur baby’ at home?”

“I have a cat,” Wei Changli’s voice and temperament became much gentler after entering the pet shop as he answered patiently. “I want to pick out some toys for him.”

“Great, follow me.” The assistant led Wei Changli to a central display island. “Our shop has a full range of both large and small toys. You can look at this—a cloud cat tree that just arrived. The main body is solid wood, stable, load-bearing, and wear-resistant. Our own shop pet loves this one; it’s very fun, good for both playing and resting.”

Accustomed to fine things, Wei Changli wasn’t particularly impressed at first glance. However, this fallen young master had already gotten used to lowering his psychological expectations. Thinking of the rental room’s floor space where he couldn’t even stretch his legs, this small cat tree was just about right.

He subconsciously prepared to nod, but his gaze caught the price—starting with a “3” in the four-digit range—and his movement suddenly froze.

The assistant noticed the boy’s subtle reaction and asked, puzzled, “You didn’t take a fancy to this one? Should I show you others?”

Wei Changli had already experienced this kind of embarrassment several times while lowering his standards for renting, so he said honestly: “The price isn’t quite right. Could you introduce some smaller cat toys?”

The assistant understood and switched to introducing cat toys under 100 yuan.

Since all of the Wei family’s savings, real estate, and other movable and immovable assets had been frozen, Wei Changli had no other income besides the minimum living allowance he applied for from the government and the basic salary from his agency. But he was used to “raising a cat in luxury” and couldn’t switch roles all at once.

So, when he walked out of the pet shop holding a mass-produced teaser stick worth the grand sum of 28.88 yuan, he couldn’t help but let out a self-deprecating laugh.

At this moment, night was beginning to fall. The clusters of magnificent neon lights under the deep sky were starting to appear. The pedestrians around him had various expressions and walked in a hurry, all seemingly heading toward a place with light. Only he stood solitary in the center of the bustling city, appearing exceptionally out of place.

Inexplicably, Wei Changli suddenly wanted to return to that rental house. That narrow, dark nest where the light couldn’t reach had already become his hiding place. It felt as if only by huddling there could his soul avoid being drained by this city.

Taking the late subway back home, Wei Changli turned on the dim light in the entryway while taking off his shoes. He habitually called into the house a few times, but that “little ancestor” who usually waited by the door to paw at his pant legs still didn’t respond.

He’s not back yet?

Wei Changli called out again: “Michu, look, I brought you a toy…”

The room was silent. The narrow, cramped space suddenly felt empty.

Wei Changli suddenly frowned. He put the teaser stick down in the entryway, circled from the living room into the bedroom, and then checked the bathroom and kitchen. After confirming Michu wasn’t hidden in the nooks and crannies he usually liked to stay in, he suddenly ran a hand through his hair with a hint of anxiety.

He looked toward the open window in the living room and began to worry that the cat had climbed out to play before the rain yesterday, lost the scent because of the heavy rain, and gotten lost in this labyrinthine old district.