Chapter 16: The Factory of Reckoning

Xu Li stepped through the door, a vision of calculated allure—bright red leather jacket and skirt, sheer pink fishnet stockings paired with black stiletto heels that screamed defiance. Her curves were exaggerated to perfection, her makeup flawless, not a single flaw in sight. Her hair, dyed and permed, was swept high at the back, black-rimmed glasses lending an eerie intellectual edge. On the street, she'd turn every head, a predator in plain sight.

She glanced at me slurping instant noodles, her voice calm but laced with ice. "Xiao Yan, I've been busy lately, eating out most nights. You're grown now. Learn to take care of yourself."

"Okay." I kept my head down, chewing in silence, but I felt the shift. Since our last clash, her coldness had deepened, a wall of frost between us. Was she regretting it? If she hadn't drugged my porridge, if she'd supported me through the exams, I'd be gone by now—out of this house, out of her sight. She wouldn't have to face my "disgusting" presence every day.

"I talked with your dad," she continued, her tone clipped. "In a couple of days, we'll find you a summer job."

Her meaning was clear—she wanted me gone. I said nothing, my silence a shield. A flicker of displeasure crossed her face before she slipped into her fake, caring tone. "Xiao Yan, you're not a kid anymore. Time to learn independence. And your dad—he's not easy to talk to. He won't give you another cent. From now on, you earn your own money."

"Got it." I tossed the empty noodle cup into the trash and retreated upstairs. A job? No thanks. I had no skills, no strength for hard labor. It would crush me, bury any chance to rise again. But without money, I was trapped. How to make it? I had no plan.

In that moment, I envied Fu Xiaoya's fire—her courage to work at a KTV, to stand proud and independent. Me? I lay on my bed, drowning in a fog of uncertainty, staring at a future I couldn't grasp.

The doorbell rang, and my heart leaped—Xiaoya? I rushed down, cracked the door open, only to deflate. A middle-aged woman stepped inside, laughing with Xu Li as they hugged like old friends. "Zheng Juan," Xu Li called her, a best friend, a former classmate. Strange—I couldn't recall Xu Li ever inviting friends over. Tonight was a first.

Then she stayed the night. In Xiaoya's room. My fists clenched, a surge of protectiveness rising. That room held our memories, now tainted by a stranger's scent. I wanted to kick the door open, throw her out, but I stayed silent. This house wasn't mine.

---

Midnight, I shuffled to the bathroom—and froze. A woman sat on the toilet, hair loose, staring at me in shock. Zheng Juan. Plump but alluring, her face strikingly pretty in the dim light. She hadn't shut the door or turned on the light. I stood, dumbstruck for two seconds, before stammering an apology and slamming the door shut, my heart pounding as I stumbled back to my room.

Just an accident—but I could already hear Xu Li twisting it into poison: ""Pervert! Peeping little bastard!"" Ten minutes later, a knock. "Xiao Yan, it's free now," Zheng Juan's voice, followed by the click of Xiaoya's door. I waited, then returned to the bathroom, spotting a black stocking on the washing machine. Open-crotch design. New. Not Xu Li's. Zheng Juan's. Birds of a feather, those two.

---

Morning came, and they left early, giggling like teenagers. At nine, I stepped out, my heart pounding. Today was a turning point—a new life waiting. I'd even put on a suit, though I couldn't tie the tie, leaving it to dangle. I slipped on my dad's sunglasses for a touch of gangster flair, a mask to hide my fear.

At the park entrance, Han Feng waited, same as yesterday—crutches, cigarette, radiating street swagger. He eyed me up and down, grinning. "Not bad, kid."

"Once we're there—don't start anything unless I say so," he warned, his voice firm.

I nodded hard. As if I'd pick a fight. All I'd ever done was take beatings.

---

We took a cab to the outskirts, a fertilizer factory looming in the distance. The ride was long, thirty-plus yuan, my treat. At the gate, a guard blocked us. "No entry."

Han Feng strutted forward, chest out, cigarette dangling. "Move aside. I'm here to see Factory Director Wu Rui—old buddies, long time no see."

The guard didn't buy it, making a call instead. Minutes later, we were waved through.

The compound was massive, a maze of grimy buildings and towering smokestacks. We searched forever, climbing five flights with Han Feng on crutches, sweat soaking my back. Finally, we reached the director's office. Han Feng rapped on the door with his crutch.

"Come in," a voice called.

I pushed it open—and my gut turned to ice.

Behind the desk sat a bald man, Wu Rui, I presumed, his eyes burning with rage, twin plumes of smoke coiling from his nostrils. Behind him stood three men in factory security uniforms, arms crossed, faces carved from stone. This wasn't a reunion. This was an ambush.

Another beating. No escape.

Han Feng strolled in, calm as ever. I followed, hiding my fear behind dark lenses. "Old Wu! I'm back! Got myself a new brother too!" He jabbed a thumb at me, proud as hell.

Wu Rui's lips curled into a cold smile. "Han Feng… I've waited a long time. Day and night. Since you're here… I'll make it unforgettable." His palm slammed the desk. "Get them! Break them! Bonus tomorrow!"

The guards lunged. One shoved Han Feng, sending him crashing to the floor, his crutch skittering away. Another ripped off my sunglasses, smashing them under his boot. Then the blows came—fists like hammers, slaps ringing in my skull. Blood gushed from my nose, dripping down my lips, hot and metallic.

"Brother—don't fight back!" Han Feng roared, as if I had any strength left. I curled up, arms shielding my head, as boots crashed into my ribs, each hit a thunderclap of pain.

Regret burned through the agony. I should never have come. Never trusted Han Feng. And now, I am paying in blood.