Villa, first floor—living room.
The decor was exquisite: genuine leather sofas, a rosewood coffee table, a crystal chandelier, and beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the koi pond rippled in the night breeze.
A young woman sat on the sofa, legs crossed as she scrolled through her phone.
She wore a tight red dress, its skirt so short it barely covered the tops of her thighs, exposing two long, pale legs.
She wore sky-high heels, their stilettos as thin as chopsticks, resting on the coffee table and swinging back and forth.
Her features were seductive, her makeup heavy. Her false lashes were long enough to fan the air, and her lips were painted a deep crimson. Everything about her carried an air of cheap allure.
Her name was Sun Hongmei, another of Zhang Ziqiang's former colleagues from the funeral home.
She had once been a funeral home hostess, responsible for reading eulogies and guiding bereaved families at memorial services.
Now, she was Zhang Ziqiang's "personal assistant."
When she saw Zhang Ziqiang come upstairs, Sun Hongmei hurriedly put down her phone, rose to greet him, and spoke in a voice sweet enough to make one sick:
"Master Qiang~ You're done? I've been waiting for you forever~"
Swaying her hips, she walked over and hooked her arm through Zhang Ziqiang's. Those two masses of softness, straining against her tight dress as though ready to burst free, pressed tightly against his arm.
Zhang Ziqiang glanced at her. "Liu San left?"
"He left, he left." Sun Hongmei curled her lips.
"That coward took the money and ran like a thief.
Master Qiang, how could you trust him with something this big?"
Zhang Ziqiang walked to the sofa and sat down. Sun Hongmei immediately coiled around him like a snake, pressing her entire body against his as