Chapter 73: Taking the Bait

Seven percent of the Fu Corporation’s shares—Song Chen certainly didn’t hesitate to make a lion’s demand.

Liang Muchuan frowned. If Song Qingyou kept playing like this, it would be Fu Wenzhou’s assets that ended up lost.

Jiang Xun had slipped into the room at some point, now leaning nonchalantly against a nearby pillar, ready to enjoy the show. She was eager to see whether the so-called mad dog would let this little goddess toy with him as she pleased.

The mad dog himself was lazily stroking Zhoozhoo’s head, exuding a careless air, as if Song Chen’s words were of no consequence to him at all.

Song Qingyou’s expression remained unchanged. She lifted her eyes coolly. “Song Chen, I only just realized today how brave you really are.”

Song Chen sneered. “Song Qingyou, I only just realized today how much nonsense you talk. Hurry up and show your cards.”

Song Qingyou slowly revealed her first card—a three.

The second card was also a three.

Song Chen flipped over his own two cards at once: a queen and an ace.

He instantly burst out in arrogant laughter. “Well, well, both of my cards beat yours. You dared to bet against me with two threes? With luck like that, you’d be better off going home and playing the pampered songbird.”

Liang Muchuan stiffened. Three was the lowest card, while Song Chen held the two highest. For Song Qingyou to win with her last card was almost impossible—like reaching for the sky.

The outcome seemed certain.

Jiang Xun let out a soft snort.

Only Fu Wenzhou kept cradling his cat, utterly absorbed in playing with it.

The dealer began to deal the third card.

Song Chen uncovered his first, glanced at it, triumph and provocation in his eyes, and held it up. “Sorry, everyone, my last card is a king. Young Master Fu, looks like this Fu Corporation building will soon bear my name. Some people really ought to know their limits—otherwise, when you lose big...”

“Song Chen.” Song Qingyou’s eyes were cool and clear. “You’ve lost.”

“Are you out of your damn mind! I—” Song Chen’s voice cut off abruptly, his gaze frozen on the final card Song Qingyou revealed at her fingertips.

Another three.

Song Qingyou smiled, her eyes clear and calm. “Sometimes, winning isn’t about the size of your cards. See? Even with the worst possible hand, I can still beat you.”

Song Chen was utterly paralyzed, his eyes filled with disbelief. He shouted, “Impossible! Absolutely impossible! You must have cheated, Song Qingyou! You definitely cheated! This round doesn’t count, I want a rematch, deal a new game!”

Song Qingyou’s lips curled. “This is the Jiang family’s casino. There’s no such thing as a rematch. Pay your debts, Song Chen. Thirty billion and seven percent of Song Corporation’s shares. Let me know when you’re ready to sign the transfer agreement.”

Song Qingyou had always lived in seclusion, but her beauty had made her a famous frail beauty in the capital. Yet Liang Muchuan had never looked at her directly.

A sickly doll, beautiful but powerless, unable to protect her own family business and robbed by outsiders—someone so weak could never catch Liang Muchuan’s eye. Only that madman would fall for such a delicate woman.

But now, Liang Muchuan finally examined the woman before him carefully.

Her beauty seemed almost unreal. Her skin was fair and translucent, long lashes trembling above clear, bright eyes that now held a trace of pride. Only in this moment could one glimpse the sharpness and audacity in her bones.

If Song Qingyou had once been like a painting—beautiful, but never stirring desire—now she was vivid and alive, so striking one couldn’t look away.

No wonder that mad dog had clung to her all these years.

Liang Muchuan forced himself to look away, though his peripheral vision kept betraying him.

Suddenly, he felt a chill at his feet and turned to see Fu Wenzhou watching him with narrowed eyes, a half-smile on his lips.

For some reason, Liang Muchuan was startled and awkwardly coughed into his hand, finally averting his gaze.

Song Chen persisted in accusing Song Qingyou of cheating, making it clear he intended to renege.

A crisp sound—the wheel of a lighter flicking.

It wasn’t loud, but it silenced Song Chen immediately. He glanced at the lighter in Fu Wenzhou’s hand, haunted by the memory of his earlier humiliation.

At last, Song Chen felt fear. He realized he couldn’t just walk away from this bet.

Yet he stubbornly refused to believe Song Qingyou could have such luck. Taking a deep breath, he looked toward Jiang Xun, who had been watching the drama unfold. “Jiang—”

Before he could finish, Jiang Xun interrupted coolly. “Mr. Song, the Jiang family’s casino doesn’t allow for do-overs.”

Song Chen fell back into his chair, eyes vacant, still muttering that it was impossible.

Thirty billion—it was thirty billion! Where was he supposed to come up with that kind of money?

Song Chen’s expression grew darker, his fists clenched. After a long pause, he finally spoke. “Song Qingyou, I have no money. You want my life, you can have it, but don’t dream of getting Song Corporation’s shares!”

Song Qingyou seemed unsurprised by his words. Her eyelids lifted, her face indifferent as she looked at Song Chen. “Is that so? Then we’ll follow the casino’s rules.”

Jiang Xun found this all the more amusing; clearly, this little goddess had been waiting for just that answer.

She smiled faintly and reminded him, “The Jiang family casino has two ways to settle debts if you can’t pay. One: offer up your body—an organ, specifically. Don’t worry if you have no cash, the Jiang family can cover it, but you’ll have to leave a souvenir behind. Two: the Jiang family will accept collateral. In that case, whether you want to pay or not, you’ll have to.”

The Jiang family’s dominance in Binhai City wasn’t built on connections, but ruthless methods. Every year, there were those who lost and tried to renege, but no one ever left the casino whole if they refused to pay.

Fu Wenzhou lounged lazily in his sandalwood chair, his tone both wicked and cold. “Song Chen, do you really think you have a choice?”

Song Chen’s teeth were almost grinding to dust—he knew he was finished.

His eyes glared venomously at Song Qingyou. “I only have fifteen billion on hand. I’ll give you the rest when I raise it, and as for the share transfer, we’ll handle it back in the capital—”

Song Qingyou cut him off icily. “No need. I brought the contract with me. You just have to sign.”

Song Chen jolted as he watched Song Qingyou take a contract from her bag and lay it out before him. Bold letters at the top read: “Song Corporation Equity Transfer Agreement.”

Song Chen’s chest trembled. A sharp ringing filled his ears, as if something was slicing through them.

His hands shook as he opened the contract. Every term was clearly listed. He let out a harsh laugh, biting his tongue until it bled. “Song Qingyou, you set me up?”

From the start, this was a trap she’d prepared, waiting for him to walk right in.

Her goal was this very transfer agreement.

Even in the face of Song Chen’s rage, Song Qingyou remained calm. “I can forgo the fifteen billion, but you’ll have to spend a month in the Jiang family’s underground prison. When your time is up, the debt between us will be cleared.”

Song Chen’s gaze was like a blade, as if he wished to tear Song Qingyou to pieces.

The Jiang family’s underground prison was a place far more terrifying than Prison No. 12, designed specifically for cheats and deadbeats. It was endless darkness; those locked inside lost all sense of time, never knowing when tomorrow would come, never seeing the end.

It was an ordeal meant to break the mind.

Just as he had once confined Song Qingyou in a damp, shadowy basement, she was now returning the favor.

This was revenge.