Chapter 70: No Charge, Because I Am Poor

“Impudent! Kneel!”
A sudden shout shattered the calm in the luxurious private room on the third floor of the Cloud Pavilion. Yet Ding Li’s face betrayed no anger; his eyes narrowed into crescent moons as he lounged carelessly against the solid wooden chair back. A lascivious glint flashed within his slit-like gaze, fixed intently upon the trembling pair of women kneeling before him, their bosoms laid bare in snowy white.

Moments later, a gentle knock sounded at the door, and the young man who had just met Ding Li downstairs entered. His face, so recently adorned with smiles, froze at the sight before him. But when his gaze fell upon the scattered gold leaves at the women’s feet, his grin returned, and he bowed repeatedly, hands clasped, brimming with flattery and urgency. “Master, what’s happened? Why are you suddenly displeased? If these two girls aren’t to your liking, I’ll send for others!”

“Hmph! Just two women—are my eyes so blind that I can’t see more?” Ding Li snorted coldly, shooting the young man a sidelong, dissatisfied glance. He curled his lip and interrogated, “Tell me! Do you take me for a fool? What did you say downstairs? Now there are only two? When the distinguished guest arrives, are you trying to make me lose face? Are you deliberately undermining me?”

“No, no, you misunderstand!” The young man hurried to deny, smiling obsequiously as he dashed forward. He signaled the two women with his eyes, quickly scooped up the gold leaves from the floor, then looked up to explain to Ding Li, “If Master finds this lacking, I’ll arrange for more at once. Please don’t be angry—everything will be ready soon!”

“Hurry up! Stop prattling!” Ding Li waved impatiently, gesturing toward one of the women on the floor and pointing at the cup before him. “You, get up and pour tea.”

Perhaps it was the young man’s signal, or perhaps the memory of the gold leaves already pocketed; the chosen woman hesitated only briefly before she rose, nervous and cautious, and proceeded to brew tea as instructed.

Not long after, the young man returned, bringing six more beautiful young women. Yet Ding Li frowned, and, steeling himself, reached for his waist and tossed out the last few gold leaves he possessed. His face serious, he barked at the young man, “Is it not enough? I saw at least a dozen women downstairs—bring them all up! Let me tell you, a noble guest is coming soon. If you serve well, there will be rewards for us both! But if anything goes wrong… hmph!”

Both enticement and threat laced his words, and the young man stood there troubled, pondering his options. He could see Ding Li wasn’t joking—after all, Ding Li had been lavish, tossing out over a dozen gold leaves in just his short time aboard. Though the young man had seen many wealthy patrons, never had he met one so extravagantly generous.

“Very well, I’ll do as Master commands!” After much hesitation, the young man finally agreed. The gold leaves were already his, and he needn’t worry Ding Li would skip out on payment, nor was he concerned Ding Li was here to stir trouble—after all, Ding Li was alone, while the boat was filled with guards.

Soon, the young man brought in several more women, announcing with a serious smile that this was the utmost he could manage. Ding Li nodded in satisfaction and waved him away.

Then, before the array of dazzling beauties, Ding Li did not indulge himself. Instead, he ordered all the women to kneel at the window, facing outward, forbidding them to rise or turn their heads no matter what happened. He promised that anyone who obeyed would receive a gold leaf as reward.

Though the women could not fathom what the strange guest behind them intended, their profession demanded compliance with guests’ wishes—especially with the promise of gold leaves. With anxious yet curious excitement, each followed his instructions.

Once the women were arranged in a row at the window, Ding Li smiled, shook his head with a hint of resignation, and left the room. His gaze swept the top floor, confirming the young man’s claim: the VIP suites were empty, save for Ding Li himself. But his attention fixed on two rooms in the southeast corner—just as the straw-hatted man had mentioned earlier—and he could hear faint voices from within.

Stepping lightly, Ding Li pressed his ear to the door, listening for a while, but couldn’t discern which room Wang Jie occupied. He regretted not bringing Zhang Wu along, for with two rooms, whichever he entered would alert the occupants. If he chanced upon Wang Jie, it would be straightforward; but if Wang Jie escaped, it would be troublesome.

Ding Li had originally intended to seek out Old Hua directly, but while gathering information in the city, he learned that, at Old Hua’s urging, the Wang Trading Company had set a trap for the Zhang Trading House. Ding Li could not stand idly by, especially given Wang Jie’s public humiliation of him the previous night. Yet Ding Li did not realize his true motive was the insult Wang Jie had hurled at Zhang Yurou.

As Ding Li hesitated, considering whether to let Wang Jie go and head downstairs to the casino, the door beside him suddenly opened, revealing a familiar face—Ahu, whom Ding Li had met in the casino the previous night.

Ding Li recognized Ahu, but Ahu did not recognize Ding Li after his disguise. Ahu stared in confusion, “Who are you?”

“I am your ancestor!” Ding Li replied, and without another word, he swung his fist, striking Ahu. Since the matter was already exposed, Ding Li did not hesitate, cursing aloud as he delivered a kick to Ahu’s chest, sending him reeling. Ding Li darted into the room and slammed the heavy wooden door shut—the soundproofing was quite good.

“Ah!!”

There were many inside, including Wang Jie and several women of varying ages, likely Wang Jie’s concubines or women arranged by Ahu. Screams erupted.

“Silence!” Ding Li roared, grabbing a porcelain plate from the table and hurling it at a woman. She had no time to dodge; the plate struck her squarely, blood spurting from her nose and mouth. Despite her gaping mouth, she stifled any scream, reduced to heavy sobs and gasps.

“Who are you, how dare you!” Wang Jie, oblivious to the danger enveloping him, perhaps believing no one would dare cause trouble on Old Hua’s pleasure boat, snatched a bowl and flung it at Ding Li.

“I am your ancestor!” Ding Li replied, catching the weakly thrown bowl and, leaping forward, smashed it atop Ahu’s head with a forceful blow.

With a crack, white shards flew everywhere, and Ahu’s head was lacerated in countless places, blood streaming over his face. He was stunned, his eyes glazed.

But Ding Li did not stop. Grabbing Ahu’s hair with his left hand, he jerked him aside and, with his right, delivered a powerful punch to Ahu’s neck.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Once, twice, thrice…

He did not pause until Ahu collapsed, limp. Ding Li withdrew his hands. Ahu twitched a few times, blood pouring from his mouth, his head submerged in a pool of blood. He died without resistance, beaten to death.

“Mur—murder…”

“Murder! Someone’s been killed!!”

“Help! Help!”

Wang Jie, accustomed to arrogance, was utterly dumbfounded, unable to utter a complete sentence. The women, however, screamed as Ahu’s blood splattered across the room.

“Silence!” Ding Li scowled fiercely, kicking the heavy round table over. Fearing these women might ruin his plan, and knowing they belonged to Wang Jie, Ding Li showed no mercy. He stepped forward, his fist crashing into a woman’s abdomen. Her cries ceased instantly, her body stiffened, then she vomited foul matter and collapsed, convulsing on the floor.

With the precedent set, Ding Li moved swiftly. Fists and feet rained down, and in the blink of an eye, only the terrified, gasping Wang Jie remained upright. The women lay sprawled, unable to stand, their mouths agape but their throats blocked by foam or blood, unable to scream.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Wang Jie pressed himself into a corner, his trembling legs barely supported by the wall, terror written all over his face.

“I am your ancestor, Ding Li, and I’ve come to kill you!” Ding Li, almost kindly, answered Wang Jie’s questions patiently, though his steps did not pause. To Wang Jie, each step Ding Li took meant death drew nearer.

“Money—I have money! Don’t kill me, name your price, I’ll give you anything!” Wang Jie suddenly sobbed. Faced with real death, he realized his own fragility, his legs buckling as he knelt, tears streaming, begging for mercy.

“I don’t want money. I want your life.” Ding Li shook his head slowly, his gaze unwavering as he drew a short dagger from his waist. Looking at Wang Jie’s despairing eyes, he smiled and explained, “Because last night you said I was a pauper. So, I don’t want your money.”

“No, no!!” Wang Jie understood. As Ding Li’s smiling face was masked by a glint of cold steel, Wang Jie realized who he was, including his name. Yet as blood flashed and his neck was sliced, his strength drained away—he knew it was too late.

After wiping the dagger clean on Wang Jie’s corpse, Ding Li searched his body for valuables. Though he found gold ingots and leaves, they were inferior to those he’d taken from the Zhang residence.

“Pauper, calling me poor?” Ding Li sneered, kicking Wang Jie’s corpse before quickly leaving the room. As he returned to his own suite, he saw the door next to Wang Jie’s open; he knew it housed Wang Jie’s family, but he did not trouble them, heading straight back to his own room.

“All right, you can rise now. You did very well. This is your reward—divide it among yourselves as you see fit.”

He tossed the money he’d taken onto the table for the kneeling women by the window.

As they stared in bewilderment, not daring to rise, Ding Li strode to the window, his agile form leaping out, vanishing completely from their sight.