Chapter 137: The Gunstock

Fang Yingying had just finalized an important business deal, so her mood was rather pleasant. However, the moment she laid eyes on the man who had been brought in by the receptionist, her cheerful disposition vanished instantly, replaced by a sudden coldness.

"Hello," she greeted, though unwillingly. Her voice was polite, but her expression was stiff, devoid of any warmth.

Xiang Ri, absorbed in the descending elevator, did not notice her discomfort. His attention was fully on the elevator, and he responded absentmindedly, "Hello, hello."

Fang Yingying observed that he was not paying attention to her, but rather kept glancing at the descending elevator. A thought crossed her mind, and she inquired, "Is the boss waiting for someone?" In her eyes, the only thing a young playboy like him would be eagerly anticipating, other than a woman, was beyond her imagination.

"Mm," Xiang Ri replied briefly, his mind still elsewhere.

As expected!

Fang Yingying thought to herself, though she felt no satisfaction at having guessed his intentions. In fact, the realization weighed heavily on her heart.

The young playboy in front of her was far too fickle, which caused her to worry for her superior's future happiness. She had tried to counsel her boss several times, but despite the "facts" she had presented, her superior showed no signs of disgust toward the playboy. Instead, she continued to defend him, even claiming that she had misunderstood him!

This left Fang Yingying feeling deeply frustrated. In the end, she could do nothing but hope that the playboy would suddenly experience a moment of conscience, abandoning his other pursuits to devote himself entirely to her superior. But now, it was painfully clear that this was impossible.

"Miss Fang, you're still here?" a deep, magnetic voice interrupted her reverie.

Fang Yingying turned in surprise. "Mr. Wang, you're still here?"

"Yes, I ran into an old friend," Mr. Wang replied with a smile. He appeared to be in his thirties, with an unremarkable appearance, yet his presence exuded an unmistakable air of business acumen.

He then gestured to the man beside him, who appeared to be of a similar age but sported shoulder-length hair. "Oh, by the way, let me introduce you. This is Liu Wenyi, the director and general manager of Dafang Group, my high school classmate."

In the interest of business, Fang Yingying politely extended her hand. "Mr. Liu, it's a pleasure."

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Fang," Liu Wenyi said, somewhat flustered, eagerly grasping her soft, fair hand. From the moment he had laid eyes on her, he had been captivated by her delicate features and her generous figure. Having rarely had the opportunity to touch such beauty, he was naturally excited.

Having dealt with such situations many times, Fang Yingying smoothly withdrew her hand, smoothly changing the subject. "Mr. Wang, are you planning to go for a meal now?"

"Yes!" Mr. Wang replied with a smile. "After discussing business with Miss Fang all morning, I'm quite famished." He subtly glanced at his high school friend beside him, whose eager expression did not escape his notice, before continuing with an invitation, "I wonder if I would have the honor of joining you for lunch, Miss Fang?"

"I'm afraid I must decline, Mr. Wang. I already have an appointment," Fang Yingying politely refused.

Although agreeing to dine with him wouldn't have been inappropriate—especially after concluding such a successful business deal—the presence of his high school friend made her uneasy. The man's eyes kept drifting toward her ample figure, a behavior she found most unpleasant.

Especially upon observing him, Fang Yingying couldn't help but draw a parallel to the figure of a notorious playboy. At such a young age, he had already secured the position of both director and general manager, a post she was certain he owed to his family's legacy. This particular trait seemed eerily reminiscent of someone she knew all too well.

Glancing at her companion, whose face was marked by unmistakable disappointment, Mr. Wang's tone grew more despondent. "So Miss Fang already has an appointment? What a pity. By the way, is it with this gentleman?" He gestured toward Xiang Ri, who stood to the side, fixated on a particular direction.

Fang Yingying's gaze immediately shifted, her expression growing peculiar. Just as she was about to deny the connection, a sudden realization struck her, and she replied, "Yes."

"Really?" Mr. Wang's eyes briefly brightened before returning to their previous, skeptical state. "And who might this gentleman be? He seems somewhat unfamiliar."

"Ah, he's a friend of Director Su's," Fang Yingying replied thoughtfully.

"Miss Su? Are you saying this gentleman is quite familiar with Miss Su?" Mr. Wang's tone grew slightly more urgent.

Hearing the anxiety laced in his voice, Fang Yingying couldn't help but feel a small surge of satisfaction at her own cleverness. Quietly, without any direct confrontation, she had managed to plant two seeds of doubt about the playboy.

Just as she was about to respond further, her words interrupted by a tall figure—Liu Wenyi, the long-haired man—who could no longer contain his frustration. Striding toward Xiang Ri, he confronted him sharply. "Excuse me, we're having a conversation here. Shouldn't you at least acknowledge us? Otherwise, it would seem terribly impolite."

Liu Wenyi's disdain was palpable. He held no respect for the young, unremarkable figure before him, dressed in clothes devoid of any luxury brands, with a thick bandage wrapped around his right hand. To Liu, this man appeared completely incapable of attracting the attention of any beautiful woman. Yet, despite this, the stranger had managed to secure the company of such a stunning woman, while Liu's own hopes had been dashed. The jealousy and bitterness simmering within him were undeniable.

He had anticipated a polite exchange, where the young man would respond courteously, allowing Liu the chance to "educate" him and make him lose face in front of the woman. However, what happened next was nothing like he expected.

"Move aside!" Xiang Ri growled, pushing Liu Wenyi aside with a forceful shove before quickly advancing forward. His attention was fixed on the elevator, which was nearly at the bottom—its light now glowing at "3," signaling its imminent arrival.

"You!" Liu Wenyi stumbled, crashing to the ground. The public humiliation was unbearable. As he rose to retaliate, he suddenly realized the setting: a public place, with an elegant woman observing. To preserve his image, he forced himself to compose his anger, straightening his clothes and resuming his previously courteous demeanor. Only when his gaze flickered toward Xiang Ri did the slightest hint of malice seep through.

As Liu Wenyi fell, Fang Yingying could hardly suppress her amusement. To think that a mere offhand comment from her had stirred up such a confrontation between two entitled young men—she couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph. Yet, there was a tinge of regret: the two hadn't fought, and that, in her eyes, was truly a missed opportunity. 

As for herself, the one who had unwittingly set the scene for this drama, Fang Yingying harbored no guilt. After all, it was merely a case of dogs biting dogs, and if one of them were to fall, the world would be rid of another potential threat to women.

Finally, the elevator doors opened, and Xiang Ri reached the vicinity just as the lift arrived at the bottom.

Seven or eight people stepped out, both men and women.

Xiang Ri's sharp eyes immediately zeroed in on his target.

A towering foreigner, at least six feet tall, with curly brown hair and striking good looks. He appeared to be in his early thirties, dressed in a travel suit with a matching green duffel bag—certainly the image of a foreign tourist on a visit to the country.

Yet, Xiang Ri noted something that set him apart from the average tourist: his presence. He carried himself with the poise of a soldier, walking with a deliberate, rhythmic pace. And beneath his composed exterior, Xiang Ri sensed the faint scent of blood—this man had killed before, and likely more than once.

Though these signs alone didn't conclusively reveal him as the feared sniper, his bag betrayed him. Upon closer inspection, a raised outline was visible along the side of the travel bag—an unmistakable shape of a rifle stock.