108: Chapter 107 Gives You Two Choices

When the door was pushed open, Su Bai frowned.

The room was very dark, with the curtains drawn tightly, and only a single incandescent bulb hung in the center of the living room; it was low wattage, casting a dim, yellowish light.

Smoke billowed out from within, mixed with the pungent smell of cheap white liquor and a damp, rotting stench.

The floor was covered in cigarette butts and liquor bottles; stepping on them made a crunching sound, and broken glass shards ground beneath the soles of shoes, creating a faint, crisp noise.

There were more than a dozen people in the room.

Seven or eight tattooed men were scattered around the room—some lounged on the sofa, others sat on the floor leaning against the wall, and some were drunk, slumped over the dining table.

Playing cards and loose change were spread out on the coffee table, a few empty liquor bottles were knocked over, and the ashtray was full, with cigarette butts piled into a small mountain, still emitting thin wisps of smoke.

Seeing Su Bai enter, their movements paused for a moment, as if a pause button had been pressed.

Hands playing cards hung in mid-air, and drinking glasses stopped at their lips.

Everyone's gaze fell upon Su Bai, then shifted from him to the person behind him, landing on Song Qian.

In the very center of the living room, a person was hung from the light fixture.

Their hands were bound by rope, suspended from the iron hook of the light fixture, their toes barely touching the ground, and their whole body hung crookedly, like a rag hung out to dry.

Their head was lowered, chin pressed against their chest, making it impossible to see their face.

Their clothes were torn, and the exposed skin was covered in blue and purple bruises.

In the corner, two people, a man and a woman, were also tied to chairs.

Seeing this situation, Song Qian let out a wail,

"Dad! Mom!"

She ran inside, weaving around the scattered liquor bottles and cigarette butts on the floor, and threw herself in front of the middle-aged couple tied to the chairs.

The rope was that kind of thick hemp rope, wrapped several times around them and pulled very tight.

"Dad!!"

Song Qian's voice was trembling, and her hands were shaking too; she reached out to untie the rope, but her fingers were trembling so violently that she couldn't undo it after several attempts.

Her father raised his head; he was a thin, middle-aged man with graying hair and wrinkles on his face that looked carved by a knife.

He looked at Song Qian with tears in his eyes, his lips moving, his voice very hoarse and carrying a hint of a rasp,

"Qianqian! Why, why did you come back..." He lowered his voice,

"Leave quickly, get as far away from this home as possible! Never come back again!"

Her mother's reaction was completely different.

A plump middle-aged woman with disheveled hair, tear streaks on her face, and red, swollen eyes.

Seeing Song Qian, she acted as if she had seen a lifeline; her body jerked forward, the chair shifting forward an inch, and the rope dug into her flesh, causing her to wince in pain, but she didn't stop speaking,

"Don't go! You can't leave!"

Her voice was shrill, piercing enough to make one's eardrums ache,

"If you leave, we're finished! Look at your brother, look at what he's been tortured into! You have to save him!"

Only then did Song Qian notice the person hanging in the center of the living room.

She turned her head, looking at that drooping, blood-stained face.

That was her brother, Song Yang.

He was as thin as a bamboo pole, his face devoid of any color, his lips purple, eyes closed, and eye sockets deeply sunken.

Song Qian covered her mouth with her hand.

Tears welled up from her eyes, streaming down silently.

Perhaps having heard her voice, Song Yang's head moved slightly.

He slowly raised his head, his eyes half-open and half-closed, pupils unfocused.

He looked at Song Qian for several seconds, as if trying to recognize who she was.

Then his eyes suddenly brightened, like a drowning person grabbing onto a piece of driftwood.

"Sis..."

Song Yang's voice was very soft, his lips moving as if he had used all his strength just to squeeze out this one word,

"Sis... save me..."

Song Qian crouched down, crouching by his feet, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders heaving.

She turned around, facing those seven or eight tattooed men.

Her eyes were very red, filled with tears, but even more so with anger!

It was the kind of anger only someone pushed to the brink, with nothing left to lose, could possess!

"You bunch of animals!"

Her voice was trembling, but every word was enunciated clearly,

"Don't you fear divine retribution for doing this?!"

Those seven or eight big men looked at each other, then burst into uproarious laughter.

The man sitting in the very center slowly stood up.

He was burly, over 1.8 meters tall, his muscles stretching his black tight-fitting T-shirt until it was bulging, and his chest and arms were covered in tattoos.

On his left arm was a green dragon, winding from his shoulder all the way to his wrist; on his right arm was a tiger descending a mountain, the tiger's head facing the back of his hand.

Most eye-catching was his head, which was shaved clean, reflecting light in the dim room like a polished coconut.

A thick gold chain hung around his neck, and several gold rings were on his fingers, each one very large, flashing with a tacky light under the lamp.

Liu Bo stood up, threw the cigarette butt from his mouth onto the floor, crushed it with his foot, and then looked at Song Qian.

His gaze slid slowly down from her face, circled her body, and slid back up, stopping on her face.

He laughed, his mouth splitting open to reveal a row of smoke-stained yellow teeth,

"Hahaha! Not bad, not bad."

He clapped his hands, his voice loud, echoing in the quiet room,

"The Song family's daughter has finally returned; it wasn't in vain that we waited here for so long."

He took a step forward.

Song Qian took a step back, bumping into Su Bai.

Su Bai's hand held her shoulder, steadying her.

Liu Bo's gaze fell on Su Bai's hand, then shifted to Su Bai's face, sizing him up, but he quickly withdrew his gaze and continued looking at Song Qian.

"I actually thought," he said, his voice slow and leisurely, as if enjoying something, "that you really wouldn't dare to come back."

Song Qian looked at him, her hands trembling, but her voice steadied a little,

"Why do you keep hounding me? It's not like I owe you money!"

Liu Bo laughed.

When he laughed, the gold chain around his neck trembled, flashing in the light.

"Your family owes me money, and that has nothing to do with you?" He tilted his head, as if inspecting a piece of merchandise,

"Besides, this dump of a place you have is poor as hell, and you're the only thing with any value."

His gaze slid down from her face again, this time lingering longer and even more brazenly,

"Tsk tsk, this figure, this face, big brother is quite tempted looking at you."

The lackeys around them chuckled; some whistled, some slapped the table, and some thrust their hips.

Liu Bo raised a hand, and the laughter stopped.

He looked at Song Qian, like a teacher asking a question in class, and said solemnly: "Beauty, don't say big brother isn't reasonable; I'll give you two choices."

The room quieted down, and everyone was listening.

"One."

Liu Bo held up one finger,

"From now on, you stay with me and be the boss's wife for my lackeys here; we'll be one family, and there will be no rush to pay back the money your brother-in-law owes."

The lackeys laughed again, this time even more wantonly, and someone shouted,

"Hello, sister-in-law!"

"Big brother has a good eye!"

"Big brother, I'll wash your pots!"

"..."

Liu Bo held up a second finger and said playfully,

"Two, let us have some fun, and then we'll sell you to a nightclub to entertain guests and pay off the debt."

He paused, looked into Song Qian's eyes, and said mockingly,

"Don't you dare say we forced you; you choose for yourself."