Chapter Forty-Six: Madness

No matter how stubborn and willful Lin Yufei could be, she knew just how grave her mistake was this time. After receiving a slap, she stood there, sobbing uncontrollably, her words trembling as she said, “Sister, I… I was wrong.”

Lin Yuxin’s raised hand hovered in the air, never landing. Her cold, severe expression faltered, and a wave of exhaustion swept through her heart—a weariness not of the body, but of the spirit.

“Lin Yufei, don’t think you can hide forever! Debts must be repaid, that’s only right! Come out, come out…” The overweight woman began shouting again, her voice echoing through the corridor.

Lin Yuan returned with his wife, both utterly at a loss. Opening the door was out of the question, and they dared not confront the visitors, so they simply stood there, stunned into silence.

Lin Yufei, for her part, didn’t even dare to glance toward the door. Her whole body trembled, resembling a flower on the verge of breaking in a storm.

At last, Lin Yuxin forced herself to remain composed, walked to the entrance, and looked at the bald man. “You’ve seen her. She’s not running anywhere. Even if she tried, the monk can flee, but the temple remains. It’s the middle of the night; nothing can be resolved now. Let’s meet tomorrow afternoon to discuss this face to face.”

The overweight woman snorted, her voice booming. “Just because you say afternoon, it’ll be afternoon? The deadline on the promissory note was yesterday. I’m telling you, don’t try that ‘the debtor is king’ nonsense with me.”

Lin Yuxin ignored her, eyes fixed on the bald man. “You want money, not trouble. We’ll repay you, but not right now. If you can’t wait until afternoon, I’ll have to call the police.”

The bald man motioned for the woman to be silent and nodded slowly. “Alright. I’ll wait for a call before three in the afternoon. If there’s nothing by then, I’ll have to pay another visit.”

He didn’t forget to nod apologetically to Lin Yuan and his wife. “Sorry for the disturbance, Uncle, Aunt.” Then, he dragged the irate woman away, who seemed loath to leave.

…

The lights blazed in the living room.

After such an event, none in the family could even think of sleep. They gathered on the sofas, and first unleashed their anger at Lin Yufei, then listened as she recounted everything in detail.

“So you’re saying you owe one and a half million, not three million? Are you sure?” Lin Yuxin stared hard at Lin Yufei, as if trying to pierce her thoughts. After some time, she was much calmer—external debt was already a fact, but now the crucial issue was resolving it. The amount owed was of utmost importance.

Lin Yufei nodded emphatically, almost swearing to the heavens. Lin Yuxin breathed a quiet sigh of relief. One and a half million—perhaps there was a way. Three million, even she would be lost.

“Yufei, you said Lin Huihuang and Lin Meimei acted as your guarantors. Then let that bald man go after them! Why should you pay for gambling debts—maybe this was their trap!” Shen Huifang, who had wilted before the bald man and his companion, now recovered her vigor before her family, pounding the table in anger.

Lin Yuan, rarely seen smoking inside, lit a cigarette, his expression troubled. “That’s not so easy. If word gets back to the old lady, our branch will never lift its head again in the Lin family.”

Shen Huifang’s face shifted several times, frustration coloring her tone. “Then at least they should pay half. One and a half million! We’re not a bank—how could we come up with that?”

Lin Yuxin, exhausted, rubbed her temples. “Mom, you know what Second Uncle and Third Aunt are like. Don’t even think about getting half from them, or borrowing anything at all. I have one million saved—meant to pay into Hong Chen’s VIP card, but now it’ll have to wait. How much do you have left? Bring it out. If it’s not enough, I’ll figure something out.”

A flicker of panic crossed Shen Huifang’s eyes. She mumbled, “I don’t have any savings.”

Lin Yuan was surprised. “Didn’t you say you had over three hundred thousand last time?”

Shen Huifang pouted. Lin Yuan pressed, “How much, exactly?”

Cornered, Shen Huifang stormed into the bedroom, then returned moments later, tossing a bankbook onto the table. “It’s all here—just over eighty thousand.”

“How is that possible?”

“Why not? Your salary is six thousand a month, not sixty thousand. Don’t we have expenses? How much do you expect to save?”

She glared at Lin Yuan, her bravado masking her guilt. Over the years, her mahjong habit had grown, now losing over a thousand per game, with five games a week at least. Bit by bit, she’d lost more than three hundred thousand.

Lin Yuan wanted to say more, but Lin Yuxin cut him off impatiently. “Enough, Dad. You and Mom can discuss your finances separately. I’ll take this eighty thousand for now. I’ll find a way for the rest. I’m tired—going to bed.”

Lin Yuan hesitated. “Yuxin, maybe call Hong Chen and ask him to come back early. With something like this, it’s good to have another man in the house.”

Mentioning Hong Chen only made things worse. Shen Huifang’s anger erupted, cursing aloud, “What good is that useless man? He might as well die out there—we’d all be free. With Yuxin’s qualifications, she could marry anyone, and he’d have at least ten million. Why would we worry about one and a half million?”

Lin Yuxin’s face turned icy cold. “Mom, I advise you to abandon that idea. I won’t divorce Hong Chen, nor will I marry some rich man. If this home doesn’t welcome us, Hong Chen and I will simply move out!”

Her tone was sharp as ice, decisive. With that, she returned to her room.

“Oh, what sins have I committed in my past life…” Shen Huifang sat numbly on the sofa, beating her chest in anguish. Lin Yuan extinguished his cigarette, for once letting out an angry grunt. “Look at yourself—how did you become like this? Completely unreasonable.” With that, he went to his room.

“Mom, I’m going to bed,” Lin Yufei muttered, head bowed, and left as well. The hall was left to Shen Huifang alone, and a strange thing happened—she suddenly stopped making a scene, lying flat on the sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling, lost in her own thoughts.

…

On one side, the family faced debt collectors at their door. On the other, Hong Chen was racing for his life. He rode a motorcycle at breakneck speed beneath the stars, Ji Yun clinging tightly to his waist, her cheek pressed against his back.

A few hundred meters behind, a black Cadillac pursued relentlessly.

After parting ways with Tank and Qiu Fen, Hong Chen had driven city roads for over two hours, only to run into a checkpoint for drunk driving. He had no license, Ji Yun’s identity couldn’t be exposed, and the Nissan—who knew how Tank and Qiu Fen had gotten it. So he abandoned the car.

All night, with Ji Yun on his back, he crossed the city on foot. During the day, he spotted a K1600GTL motorcycle at a BMW dealership and bought it on the spot.

For the next forty hours, Hong Chen became a wind-chasing youth, riding the motorcycle across three provinces—nearly twelve hundred kilometers. He was followed once, but used the bike’s advantages to shake them off. Until half an hour ago, when he was spotted again. This time, the road was wide, the vehicles in excellent condition, and escaping again would be much harder.

Hong Chen glanced at the fuel gauge—thirty kilometers left, at most. He had to make a decision. The pursuers had guns; if they got within range, Ji Yun’s back would become a target.

A wild idea sparked in Hong Chen’s mind.

He fixed his gaze on the intersection several hundred meters ahead, shifted to the far left of the road, and accelerated—pushing the speed to over 240 kph, nearly the bike’s limit of 250.

In a sudden moment, he twisted the handlebars, leaning his body to the right until he was just a foot from the ground. The powerful inertia sent the motorcycle in a huge arc, tires scraping the pavement with a shower of sparks.

Ji Yun felt her heart hammering in her chest, her face pale, eyes squeezed shut as she clung desperately to Hong Chen. She didn’t know what he was planning, but after two days together, she’d grown used to relying on him, trusting him, letting him take charge—even at the edge of life and death.

The arc’s radius was nearly ten meters; the motorcycle’s body almost entered the cross lane, but Hong Chen forced it back into the correct direction, completing a difficult U-turn.

The speed dropped from over 240 kph to about 100, and the Cadillac closed in to within 200 meters.

Looking at the cold-faced man in the Cadillac’s driver’s seat, Hong Chen grinned, his face lit with a wild expression. He slammed the accelerator, gripping the handlebars, and charged straight at the Cadillac.