As instructed, Marie eased off the accelerator.
Moments later, their vehicle was surrounded. A few rundown sedans pulled ahead and boxed them in. From the windows, a group of rough-looking men stepped out, the typical street-level thugs, dressed in knock-off branded clothes, gripping hockey sticks and baseball bats like props in a bad action film. They were clumsily trying to imitate the gangsters from movies.
They flanked the car, trying to appear intimidating.
Marie rolled down the window, unfazed. "What do you want?" she asked coolly.
"The woman in the back," one of them barked, gesturing toward Xia Ruyan.
Xia Ruyan was still sipping her coffee leisurely, not even bothering to glance at them. "Ask them, where exactly do they plan on taking me?" she said lightly, as if commenting on the weather.
Marie relayed the question, her tone deadpan.
The men exchanged glances and laughed; they thought she was terrified and putting on an act of calm. However, one guy from the left kept glancing at the car, shifting from foot to foot. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. Women like her were supposed to cry.
"Sure, come along. We'll take you there," their leader grinned mockingly. "You can ride in your own car, we'll follow. Be our guest."
Marie nodded, expression blank, as if this was all routine.
Their cars surrounded the Range Rover like vultures circling prey, assuming, of course, that the prey didn't have claws of her own.
The city skyline passed in a blur as Marie drove steadily, deliberately maintaining the pace. The thugs' cars flanked them on both sides, occasionally swerving close, trying to provoke. Xia Ruyan remained unbothered, scrolling through her phone and finishing her coffee like she was en route to a spa appointment rather than a potential ambush.
Marie glanced in the rearview mirror. "Ma'am, shall I call Master Xia?"
Xia Ruyan raised a brow slightly, then shook her head. "Not yet. Let's see how far the puppets dance before we burn the strings."
As they exited the main road and entered an industrial zone at the edge of the city, one of the sedans honked sharply and gestured them to pull over near a dilapidated warehouse. Graffiti covered the walls, and broken streetlights cast long shadows in the fading twilight.
Marie parked as instructed. The gangsters climbed out of their cars, now emboldened, tapping their bats against their palms. The leader, a man with a greasy ponytail and a crooked smile, approached first.
"Out of the car, Miss High-and-Mighty," he said, smirking. "Don't worry, we're not animals. Someone just wants to have some fun."
Marie started to move, but Xia Ruyan raised a hand, stopping her.
"I'll go," she said, stepping out of the car with an elegance that looked entirely out of place in the grimy surroundings. Dressed in a sleek white blouse, tailored slacks, and heels that clicked sharply on the pavement, she looked more like a queen arriving at court than a victim about to be roughed up.
The men hesitated. She looked too poised, too perfect, like a painting brought to life. And that scared them more than any weapon might.
"Where is this fun happening?" she asked smoothly, eyes sweeping over them.
The leader pointed toward the warehouse.
She walked ahead, heels echoing in the silence. Inside, it was worse than expected: rusted machinery, broken crates, the faint stink of oil and damp cement. But Xia Ruyan didn't flinch.
"Who sent you?" she asked quietly, her voice echoing across the hollow space.
The leader chuckled. "Lady, it doesn't work like that. You just follow, listen, and maybe beg a little."
"Mn… we'll see who begs," Xia Ruyan said, her voice slow and measured, almost eerie in its calm.
Marie entered the shed silently and shut the rusted doors behind her with a final clang. Her stance was sharp, her expression trained.
"Awaiting your order, ma'am," she said with precision.
The gang leader, now visibly rattled, barked, "You broads think this is some kind of movie set?!"
His voice echoed in the metal-clad space, but it only made the stillness more suffocating. The women remained unbothered, too composed.
He stared at Xia Ruyan. Wasn't she supposed to be an unwanted woman of the Mo family? Someone with no background and power?
So why did it feel like he was the one in danger?
"I'll ask again," Xia Ruyan said coolly, now settling into a chair with practiced elegance. She crossed her legs with grace, her gaze steady. "Who sent you?"
It was as if she had summoned the gang, not the other way around.
"You bitc—" the words died mid-air.
Bang.
A single gunshot cracked through the air.
One of the lackeys dropped instantly, a clean bullet wound between his eyes. He collapsed like a rag doll, eyes frozen in eternal surprise, mouth agape. Behind him, a dark blotch of blood splattered the wall. As he hit the ground, his blood pooled outward, tracing the outline of his fallen body. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the damp, humid air of the warehouse, cloying and nauseating.
The rest of the gangsters screamed in panic, dropping their weapons and backing away in terror. They were just low-level thugs, used to shouting and swinging bats, not bullets and cold-blooded execution.
Xia Ruyan didn't even flinch.
Her expression hadn't changed. A man had died, her assistant had just killed someone, and yet she looked as serene as ever, like she'd just ordered tea.
"So," she said, tone still calm and even, "are you going to tell me?"
The leader crumbled. "M-Madam… please…"
He dropped to his knees, trembling, sweat pouring down his face.
"We… we were only told to scare you, take some compromising photos. Our young lady, she said she wanted to humiliate you... nothing more, I swear!"
He was kowtowing now, forehead pressed against the cold concrete, begging for his life.
Xia Ruyan glanced at her watch, idly playing with its strap as if she were checking the time between spa appointments.
"You can live," she said softly.
The man almost cried in relief, until she added, with the same calm look:
"If you call your young lady here. Right now."