Agent Yi Leng

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As soon as the New Year’s holiday ended, Ling Siyan wore a pair of tight jeans that accentuated her figure, paired with knee-high suede boots that made her legs look even longer. On top, she wore a white rabbit fur jacket, soft and pure, perfectly in line with the aesthetic tastes of the people in Jiangwei. However, she didn’t dare to wear makeup because the school strictly prohibited teachers from doing so. If the principal saw her, she’d be in big trouble.

When it was time to leave work, Ling Siyan flew out of the school like a little swallow, looking left and right at the intersection. Why hadn’t Yin Bingsong arrived yet to pick her up as promised? She sent him a message, but he didn’t reply. After waiting for over ten minutes, she was starting to get annoyed when she finally saw a dark brown car approaching. The car’s front end looked fierce, with two headlights and a grille that formed the menacing face of a gangster. The Porsche emblem on the hood, however, elevated the whole thing to another level.

To impress the ladies, Yin Bingsong had borrowed a 2002 Cayenne from a friend who dealt in used cars. The car was a bit old, but a Porsche was still a Porsche. Girls like Ling Siyan didn’t know much about car models, but they definitely recognized Porsche as a brand more upscale than BMW or Mercedes. As for the specific model, engine size, or configuration—those details didn’t matter.

Ling Siyan quickly got into the car, afraid that her colleagues might see her. Yin Bingsong, wearing sunglasses and a black mink coat, didn’t even turn his head. He casually said, “There’s something for you on the back seat.” Ling Siyan turned around and saw a brand-new LV bag. She was shocked. “This is too much. It’s too expensive.”

Yin Bingsong said, “It’s just a small token of appreciation. Take good care of my daughter from now on.”

“I can’t accept this. It’s too expensive,” Ling Siyan said, not daring to touch the bag, but her heart was bursting with joy. This bag must have cost at least ten thousand yuan. This guy was so generous! Maybe he’d buy her a car or even a house in the future.

What she didn’t know was that Yin Bingsong had bought this knockoff during his last trip to Guangzhou. He had bought six of them in one go.

For men like Yin Bingsong and his cronies, seducing young girls at dinner parties was second nature. The dinner was set in a luxurious hotel’s private dining room. The distance from the entrance to the round table was several meters long, making it feel like walking a red carpet. A girl from a humble background like Ling Siyan had never seen such extravagance. She was already overwhelmed before the meal even started.

At the dinner table, there were several fixed roles. Yin Bingsong was the undisputed star, his every move exuding the aura of a big shot. Everyone else was there to flatter him, each with a specific function. First, there was the hype man, whose sole purpose was to keep the atmosphere lively and constantly remind everyone how amazing Yin Bingsong was, how he was the number one guy in Jiangwei.

Then there was Qiangzi, a thuggish underling with a bad temper. He spoke in tough, streetwise language, wore a thick gold chain, and had tattoos. His expression was always fierce, as if he was ready to kill anyone who dared to mess with his “Brother Song.”

Next was the “experienced older sister,” whose job was to brainwash the young girl. She would say things like, “A woman’s youth and beauty only last a few years. Instead of wasting it on some poor loser, why not sell it for a good price? Stick with a big shot like Brother Song, and you’ll save yourself twenty years of struggle.”

Then there were the business partners, who would flatter Yin Bingsong endlessly and pressure the girl to drink. If she refused, they would say she was disrespecting Brother Song.

Also present was Director Zhang from the personnel department of Yin Bingsong’s company, a balding man in his fifties with a mouth full of dirty jokes. He boasted that getting Ling Siyan a formal job position was a piece of cake, as long as Brother Song gave the word.

"Xiao Ling, once we get you that job, how are you going to thank Brother Song?” Director Zhang asked, his cross-eyed gaze leering at her.

“I...” Ling Siyan was at a loss for words. No matter what she said, these people would find a way to make her drink.

“How about you offer Brother Song a toast?” Director Zhang suggested.

Ling Siyan picked up the glass in front of Yin Bingsong, but Director Zhang wasn’t done. “Brother Song, I have to say, you can’t treat Xiao Ling poorly. Buy her a white mink coat. When she’s peeling garlic for you, she’ll look the part, right?”

Yin Bingsong said, “My mistake. I’ll punish myself with three drinks.”

Qiangzi

It took Ling Siyan a moment to realize that “Sister-in-law” referred to her. She wasn’t happy about it, but the atmosphere at the table had already reached a point where everything was just drunken banter. If she made a scene, it would be her fault.

This kind of coordinated attack was hard to resist. Ling Siyan was forced to drink a mix of foreign liquor, red wine, and beer. The combination hit her hard, and she was soon in no state to resist. She wasn’t stupid; she knew something bad was about to happen. But today, she was the guest of honor. Leaving wasn’t an option, and avoiding alcohol was impossible. Hoping that Yin Bingsong would protect her was a pipe dream. He was the big bad wolf who had set up this whole scheme. It was clear he intended to have his way with her tonight.

Ling Siyan went to the private bathroom attached to the dining room and sent a desperate message to Ali, begging her to come and rescue her. She said she couldn’t take it anymore and would be at their mercy if she kept drinking.

Ali was busy helping out at the restaurant, which was packed as usual. The noise was overwhelming, and she didn’t hear her phone. By the time she noticed the message, half an hour had passed. She immediately called Ling Siyan, but there was no answer.

Now Ali was panicking. She took off her apron and told Wu Yumei, “My colleague is in trouble. I need to go save her.”

Wu Yumei asked if it was serious and offered to go with her.

“I can handle it alone,” Ali said confidently.

At that moment, Huang Pihu came out and asked what was going on. Ali explained, and Huang Pihu asked where they were drinking. Ali checked the address Ling Siyan had sent and named the hotel.

“You can’t go alone,” Huang Pihu said.

“It’s fine. Yin Bingsong is a student’s parent after all. He wouldn’t do anything too outrageous,” Ali said.

“I’ll find someone to go with you,” Huang Pihu said, looking around. Wu Yumei was eager to go, but Huang Pihu decided to send Yan Aihua instead.

Yan Aihua, also known as Fireworks, was the owner of the hair salon next door. Despite the restaurant’s booming business, the salon remained deserted. Under the pink lights, Yan Aihua was bored out of her mind.

The restaurant was too busy to spare anyone else, so Yan Aihua, being the kind-hearted person she was, agreed to accompany Ali without hesitation.

As they left in a taxi, Xiao Hong praised, “Sister Fireworks is such a good person.”

Wu Yumei sneered, “Good person? She has her own agenda.”

Xiao Hong pretended not to understand. “What agenda?”

Wu Yumei rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask about things you don’t need to know.”

In the kitchen, Huang Pihu took off his apron and asked Zhang Cong, “Can you handle things alone?”

“Master, don’t worry. I’ve got this,” Zhang Cong

When Ali and Yan Aihua arrived at the Fengmanlou Hotel, they were too late. The private dining room was a mess of empty plates and glasses, with only two waiters cleaning up.

Ali tried calling Ling Siyan again, but there was still no answer.

Ali stomped her foot in frustration. Yan Aihua didn’t know what to do either. They couldn’t exactly call the police, so she could only comfort Ali, saying maybe they had already taken Miss Ling home. They should go check.

In fact, just a few minutes earlier, Ling Siyan had gotten into Yin Bingsong’s car. She was dizzy and unsteady on her feet, her phone vibrating unnoticed in her hand. Half-lying in the back seat of the Cayenne, Ling Siyan managed to say with her last bit of clarity, “I live in Chuanchang New Village. Just drop me off at the entrance.”

“Got it. Sit tight,” Yin Bingsong replied. He hadn’t drunk much, but he was still over the legal limit. Fortunately, the hotel was only five hundred meters away. With one hand on the steering wheel, he glanced in the rearview mirror at the drunken Ling Siyan. Tonight had gone exceptionally well. Not only had he salvaged his reputation after the brick-splitting incident, but he had also successfully seduced the young girl. He was riding high on success.

The Porsche drove into the hotel’s underground parking garage and parked in a spot next to Yin Bingsong’s white Jetta.

After parking, turning off the engine, and engaging the electronic parking brake, Yin Bingsong got out of the car. Suddenly, a hand reached out from behind, and an electric stun gun pressed against his neck. Sparks flashed in the darkness, and the sound of crackling electricity filled the air. As the current surged, Yin Bingsong gradually lost consciousness. When he woke up, he found himself in complete darkness, his hands and feet bound, a bag over his head, and a towel stuffed in his mouth. He was curled up in a confined space, feeling constant jolts and bumps. Soon, he realized he was in the trunk of a car.

Ling Siyan’s stomach churned violently, and she vomited instantly. The sour, foul smell filled the interior of the Cayenne. She opened her eyes, gasping for air. Throwing up made her feel a little better.

Looking around, she realized she was still in the car, but Yin Bingsong was nowhere to be seen. Ling Siyan was too weak to clean up the mess. She got out of the car and stumbled out of the parking garage. Just then, her phone rang. It was Ali.

“I’m fine. I’ll take a taxi home now,” Ling Siyan said. A cold wind blew, making her shiver. She leaned against a wall and vomited again until her stomach was empty, finally feeling a bit better.

After leaving the underground parking garage, Ling Siyan took a taxi home. When she arrived, she was still shaken, as if she had just survived a disaster. Seeing her covered in vomit and looking disheveled, Ali asked with concern, “Are you okay? Should we call the police?”

“What are you thinking? I just drank too much,” Ling Siyan said. “I don’t understand why men like drinking so much. It’s not enjoyment; it’s torture.”

“Maybe it’s their battlefield,” Ali said. Having worked in the restaurant, she had seen plenty of men drink themselves into oblivion and understood the significance of alcohol to them.

“He gave me a bag,” Ling Siyan said. “It’s too expensive. I don’t dare keep it. I’ll have Yin Weiran return it tomorrow.”

Ali took the LV bag and examined it, her expression turning strange.

“What’s wrong?” Ling Siyan asked, sensing something was off.

“I can’t say for sure, but it’s different from my mom’s bag, especially in the details,” Ali said. “Look at the alignment of the monogram pattern at the seams—it’s off. And the hardware has rough edges...”

"Yin Weiran’s dad is really this kind of person?” Ling Siyan was furious. Getting her drunk was bad enough, but giving her a fake designer bag? Was this the level of a so-called “big shot”?

She planned to mock Yin Bingsong

Yi Leng drove the Jetta to a desolate location he had scouted earlier. It was an abandoned, unfinished building called Jinyang Center. The massive gray concrete structure stood in the middle of a wasteland, resembling a palace from a post-apocalyptic world. A dead-end road ran past the building, with no cars in sight.

The Jetta was perfect for rough roads. Yi Leng drove straight into the compound. It was winter, and the weeds were dry and yellow. He found the entrance to the underground parking garage, turned on the headlights, and drove in. The lower level was pitch black, the bright lights cutting through the darkness. Yi Leng parked, turned off the engine, opened the trunk, and dragged Yin Bingsong out.

The underground structure was complex. After passing through several doors, he found a hidden corridor lined with iron doors. These were meant to be equipment rooms. Yi Leng opened one of the doors, dragged Yin Bingsong inside, then stepped out, closed the door, locked it, and left.

Yin Bingsong felt an unprecedented fear. This was even more terrifying than the time his car was rigged with a bomb. The entire time, his captor hadn’t said a word. If this were a typical kidnapping, the captor would at least demand a ransom. But this silence made it impossible to figure out what was going on.

As the iron door closed, everything fell into dead silence. Yin Bingsong adjusted his breathing. With a bag over his head and a towel stuffed in his mouth, his airflow was limited, and he could easily suffocate himself.

After calming his breathing, he tried to remove the bag. This wasn’t too difficult. He rubbed his head against the ground for a while and finally managed to get the bag off. However, the room was still completely dark—so dark that he couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face. He realized what true darkness was. Darkness had levels, and this was the kind of darkness that brought despair.

Yin Bingsong’s hands and feet were tightly bound with sturdy plastic ropes. He usually carried a folding knife on his belt, but it was gone now. Even if he had it, he couldn’t reach it. The bindings were too tight. His mouth was not only stuffed with a towel but also taped shut. He couldn’t push the towel out with his tongue. Everything about this showed the professionalism of his captor.

After waiting for what felt like an eternity, Yin Bingsong began to try to save himself. He struggled to feel around the room. After what seemed like hours—maybe three or four, maybe seven or eight—he had lost all sense of time. Finally, he was lucky enough to find a pipe and a steel angle. He used the edge of the steel angle to rub against the plastic ropes. He didn’t know how long he rubbed—maybe hours—but eventually, the ropes gave way.

In that moment, Yin Bingsong felt like he had been reborn. Ignoring the cuts and bruises on his wrists, he quickly untied the ropes binding his feet, ripped off the tape covering his mouth, and pulled out the towel. He took a few deep breaths. The air was thin and carried a musty, decaying smell.

He searched his body. His wallet, phone, lighter, cigarettes, keys, and folding knife were all gone. He was literally unarmed.

He felt around the room. It was about six square meters, with an iron door that made a sound when he knocked, but no one answered. There was a light switch, but it didn’t work—probably because there was no bulb installed.

Recalling the path he had been dragged through and combining it with the current situation, Yin Bingsong deduced that he was in the basement of a building, a place where no one would come. Even if he screamed his lungs out, no one would hear him. There was no water, no food. This was a living burial.

He hadn’t been afraid when he wasn’t thirsty, but the thought of dying from thirst and hunger made his throat burn and his stomach ache. He regretted not eating more of the plain noodles served at the end of the banquet. Men always skipped the meal at the end of a feast, and now he was paying the price for his stupidity. He swore that if he got out alive, he would never skip a meal after drinking again.

In the pitch-black room, he lost all sense of time and space. Without his sight, his hearing became his only connection to the world, reminding him that he was still alive. He didn’t know how much time had passed, only that he was unbearably thirsty and hungry. He even resorted to drinking his own urine to survive.

Yin Bingsong was missing, but no one was worried. A big shot like him often disappeared without a trace. There were many reasons for his absence—maybe he was hiding from debt, running away, or simply passed out at some lover’s place.

But things changed the next day. After school, Miss Ling handed Yin Weiran a sealed plastic bag to give to her parents.

Ling Siyan wasn’t naive. She knew what she was doing, and she did it on purpose.

Sure enough, Jian Shiyu and Mei Xin helped Yin Weiran to the school gate, where Han Lanlan was waiting in her car. Clueless, Yin Weiran handed the plastic bag directly to her mother. When Han Lanlan opened it, she was furious. Now she had to confront Yin Bingsong and get to the bottom of this.

She tried calling him, but his phone was still off. She called Qiangzi, Yin Bingsong’s lackey. Qiangzi, ever the smooth talker, said, “Sister-in-law, don’t worry. Brother Song is in the bathroom.”

Han Lanlan sneered. ”Qiangzi, stop covering for him. Tell him if he doesn’t come home today and explain himself, things are going to get ugly.”

So Qiangzi started looking for Yin Bingsong everywhere. Finally, he found the old Cayenne that Yin Bingsong had borrowed in the underground parking garage. There was a pool of vomit in the back seat, but Yin Bingsong was nowhere to be seen.

Yin Bingsong had vanished into thin air.

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