I Have 10 Trillion Dollars only Usable For Simping
Chapter 1317 - 908 Hey, wake up_2

Chapter 1317: 908 Hey, wake up_2

"So I said, it’s not feasible."

The woman looked at the man across from her—a man with unparalleled attributes in every regard. "However, Mr. Song, I must make one thing clear: in any war, it’s impossible to imagine coming out unscathed. If you want to defeat your opponent, some price must ultimately be paid."

Song Chaoge still kept his head down, caressing the teacup. It was unclear whether he truly absorbed her words, but suddenly, he said, "I have a more straightforward solution."

"Oh?"

The woman smiled. "Please, Mr. Song, enlighten me."

"The one who ties the bell must untie it. Although the Great Wall has four shareholders, I believe, apart from Jiang Chen, the other three aren’t so extreme. So, if we eliminate Jiang Chen—the source of the problem—everything else will naturally resolve itself."

The woman’s smile did not waver. "Eliminate? And how exactly would you propose we eliminate him, Mr. Song? Could you be more specific?"

"Miss Fujihara, you should understand what I mean."

"This little woman doesn’t quite understand."

Song Chaoge lifted his head. His devilishly charming face bore a disquieting indifference.

"Miss Fujihara, this is your residence. No hidden ears here—you’re clear on what I’m suggesting."

Four eyes met in silence.

After a prolonged pause, the woman exhaled slowly, her brows faintly furrowed. "Mr. Song, murder is against the law."

"I’d imagine, given Miss Fujihara’s methods, there are ways to accomplish it without a trace."

A human life hangs in the balance.

But only as a trivial pretense.

When enormous wealth is the backdrop, so-called human lives suddenly lose all value.

How many would take desperate chances just for a car or a house?

And yet, merely being slighted over drinks could drive someone to exact deadly vengeance. Such a petty, narrow heart.

The woman ignored his compliment, countering instead with a question full of intrigue: "Mr. Song, your methods aren’t lesser than mine. Why not handle it yourself?"

"I am a person of Shenzhou."

Song Chaoge’s reply was decisive, succinct.

The woman appeared to have an epiphany and nodded lightly. "Ah, people of Shenzhou don’t harm their own."

Song Chaoge remained impassive, as if discussing a matter of no importance. "Miss Fujihara, what do you think of this plan?"

"This little woman feels..."

She paused.

"It’s open to discussion."

The woman curved her lips into a faint smile. "That Jiang Chen isn’t just anyone. Let’s not even talk about whether you could succeed. Even if you do succeed, the aftermath would undoubtedly be extremely troublesome."

"You needn’t worry about that. I’ll provide full assistance to Miss Fujihara. When the time comes, you just need to hand over a scapegoat."

The woman laughed, locking her gaze with his.

"Mr. Song, do you really think it’s that simple?"

She then continued, "Even if in Shenzhou, Mr. Song, your influence reaches the heavens, ensuring my safety, what about outside Shenzhou?"

"Mr. Song, his stronghold has never been in Shenzhou. I wouldn’t want to end up hiding in Dongying, unable to venture anywhere—or worse, even in Dongying, I may not be entirely safe."

With that, the woman poured more tea for him.

At this point in the conversation, the meaning was already quite clear.

Not everyone was as easily manipulated as Fang Jun.

And Fang Jun’s fate was a cautionary tale.

A dignified heir of a high-ranking official, a descendant of aristocracy, was now reduced to sewing machine labor.

Though of different nations, one must not forget—historically, Dongying was for a long time a tributary to Shenzhou, inheriting and deeply influenced by Shenzhou’s culture.

Tactics like using another’s blade to kill were doubtlessly known.

"Miss Fujihara, I think you may be overestimating him. To this day, you haven’t uncovered any of his background..."

"Mr. Song."

The woman placed down the teapot, unusually interrupting him mid-sentence, which was quite rude. "Whether or not his background is uncovered isn’t important. What you should consider is why so many important figures in your honorable country rally around him—and his wealth. Mr. Song, perhaps because you live in Shenzhou, you lack a concrete understanding of wealth. In your honorable country, no matter how large an entrepreneur’s business, they command little social standing. But outside of Shenzhou, it might be a different story."

There was a deep undertone in her words.

Song Chaoge slightly furrowed his brows, vaguely feeling the sting of mockery—perhaps it was simply his oversensitivity.

"Mr. Song, please, have some tea."

She smiled again, her lips drawing into a demure curve.

After Song Chaoge departed, the woman tidied up the tea set. Her movements were filled with an elegance so natural that, without knowing her origins, she exuded even more of the Oriental charm than the people of Shenzhou themselves.

Once the tea set was put away, she stood, passing through eaves and corridors, arriving at a lush bamboo grove. Beneath the bamboo was a temperature-controlled artificial pool.

White stockings stepped across the green stone pathway.

And then.

The loose folds of her gown slid down slowly.

An utterly breathtaking silhouette was exposed to the air, instantly becoming the most dazzling sight in the bamboo garden.

Alas.

The walls were built too high—three meters at least—denying anyone the fortune of witnessing the view.

"Splash."

The snow-white figure gradually submerged into the water as a floral pattern on the surface rippled and faded away.

This was the kind of woman who, in ancient times, could have brought kings to ruin. She leaned against the edge of the pool, closing her eyes in pure enjoyment.

She was a consummate businesswoman.

She bore no malice toward her partners.

Thus, her earlier words were purely meant as a kind-hearted warning.

Even the noblest status has geographic limits.

But wealth knows no borders.

"Mmm~"

Under the water.

Her fingers unintentionally grazed her thigh.

Suddenly, her breathing hitched, a faint moan escaped her nose, and her flawless cheeks blushed, radiating an unparalleled allure.

It was summer.

The water should have felt refreshingly cool.

"Mr. Jiang, you truly deserve to die..."

She murmured through closed eyes, her reddened face whispering.

"Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp."

On this midsummer night, the cacophony of insects was relentless.

But it didn’t disturb the woman’s rest.

Though she was in a foreign land, she didn’t change her sleeping habits—she avoided sleeping on a bed. Instead, she spread mats on the ground and lay down directly.

Fortunately, the environment here was excellent. Apart from the insects’ chirping, there was no sound of bustling traffic.

Clothed and lying down, her long hair fanned out like a spread of silk, and she slept deeply.

The moon quietly climbed the wall.

The moonlight spilling in resembled a natural filter.

"You were born a beauty, but alas..."

This wasn’t the narrator’s voice.

It was an internal monologue.

What tightened the heartstrings was the presence of a shadow cast in the moonlit room.

The woman lying on the ground remained entirely unaware.

Indeed.

This wasn’t the shadow of trees swaying outside.

For the shadow was moving—step by step, inching closer to the human masterpiece lying on the ground.

A three-meter-high wall could guard against gentlemen.

But it couldn’t keep out villains.

Coming to her side, the shadow froze. Amid the tense and oppressive atmosphere, it seemed as if the figure was studying her face.

In that moment, washed clean of all burdens, her visage must have displayed its raw, truest essence.

Perhaps it was simply too dark to see clearly—the shadow shrank. It appeared to crouch down.

The woman slept quietly and obediently, a stark contrast to her demeanor or the way she conducted herself. She lay still, only occasionally pursing her lips—a childish habit that stirred conflicted emotions within the unwanted visitor at her side.

No unspeakably vile or reprehensible act unfolded. This intruder didn’t seem to be a common thief of virtue, even though the earthly goddess lying inches away was his for the taking, defenseless.

Time seemed to halt.

No one knew how much of it passed.

Finally, he moved, extending his hand past her indignantly resting peaks, inching downward.

"Chirp, chirp, chirp, chirp."

The incessant insect calls continued unabated.

Above her waist, his hand paused.

It seemed he hadn’t entirely withstood temptation’s trial.

Yet, just as it hovered over her belt, it abruptly stopped again.

The woman hadn’t awakened. She remained entirely unaware.

Perhaps, his principles and upbringing had ultimately prevailed.

That hand, so close to undoing her attire, retreated.

Then.

A sound broke the stillness.

"Hey, wake up."

The voice wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t soft either—in this midsummer night, it was especially eerie.

The woman was asleep but not unconscious. Her eyes jerked open from slumber.

And suddenly.

She saw a ghastly, monstrous face staring directly at her!

No mistake about it.

A hideous, terrifying ghostly face!

"Ahhhh—!"

Her high-pitched scream instantly drowned out the chirping insects.