Chapter 57: Return to the Martial World

Yang Rui glanced around and nodded. "The environment is acceptable."

"Your responsibility is to take charge of the cleaning for the entire executive zone from the eighth to the ninth floor," Wu Yun resumed her professional tone, though a hint of mischief lurked in the depths of her eyes. "Remember, don't ask what shouldn't be asked, and don't touch what shouldn't be touched! All cleaning work must be completed before the employees arrive for work. In addition..." She paused, the corners of her mouth finally unable to suppress a lift. "Both the men's and women's restrooms are under your charge."

"What? The women's restroom is under my charge too?!" Yang Rui instantly grasped the main point, his voice changing pitch.

"Of course!" Wu Yun quickly turned her head away, her shoulders twitching suspiciously. "Alright, get to work, I won't disturb you!" With that, she strode away in her high heels, leaving behind a crisp trail of sound.

Watching her distant, slender back, Yang Rui suddenly remembered the crucial questions he hadn't asked. He hurriedly shouted toward the hallway, "Hey! How much is the salary? Are there bonuses? Do I get weekends off? Can I rest after finishing the work? ...Damn it! This time I've really taken a massive loss!" Only the receding footsteps and a faint, suppressed chuckle responded to him.

In the distance, Wu Yun couldn't help but smile to herself: This person is really interesting! Sometimes abominably slick, and other times revealing a foolish sort of innocence. Giving up a proper job to come work as a cleaner? Either a screw loose in his head, or an absolute freak! Looking at his washed-out outfit, it was probably out of necessity, right? A trace of unperceived pity quietly slipped through her heart.

Engaged in such a "noble" profession for the first time, Yang Rui was somewhat at a loss as to where to begin. Hesitating for a long while, he decided to start his offensive from the "dragon's pool and tiger's den"—the women's restroom. Fortunately, no one was inside. Trembling with apprehension, he hung the "Cleaning in Progress" sign outside the door, held his breath, and completed this "feat" with the caution of a bomb disposal expert. Next came the men's restroom, the lobby, the leaders' offices... For the better part of the day, he was so busy his feet barely touched the ground, and he even forgot to eat lunch.

Despite the surprised, probing, and even slightly disdainful glances cast by passing colleagues, Yang Rui relied on the "thick-skinned armor" and ironclad psychological resilience he had cultivated through years of wandering the underworld, responding to everyone with an easygoing grin. In time, people grew accustomed to it.

After a bout of hard labor, Yang Rui rubbed his sore waist and couldn't help sighing: Every profession produces its own masters, and this job isn't easy either! Xie Tingfeng didn't show his face the entire afternoon, presumably feeling he couldn't afford to lose face like this. Yang Rui was quite content with the peace and quiet.

Miraculously, by clock-out time, more than half of the employees in the executive zone had already grown familiar with this newly minted "master of cleaning." Relying on his ability to read people, his silver-tongued eloquence, and a reasonably handsome face, Yang Rui spent a moment reading someone's palm here, and another moment telling someone's fortune there, speaking with plausible conviction. If anyone needed a box moved or a drawer fixed, he was always at their beck and call, handling everything single-handedly. His mastery of being "slick and worldly, able to dance with long sleeves" left Wu Yun, standing not far away, secretly clicking her tongue in astonishment: Just what kind of sacred being is this fellow?

After finally dragging himself through to the end of the shift, strangely enough, there was still no sign of Xie Tingfeng. Yang Rui couldn't be bothered to care and let out a long sigh of relief. As he passed Wu Yun's workstation, he didn't break his stride, merely leaning in slightly and dropping his voice to say, "Beauty, if you want to dispel disasters and resolve hardships, come find me at my 'old spot' tonight. Remember—bring enough cash, I'll give you a twenty percent discount!" Before Wu Yun could reply, he had already briskly merged into the stream of off-duty commuters.

Weighing the meager amount of money left in his pocket, he knew it wouldn't last many days. With no other choice, he had no option but to work three jobs all by himself. He could manage to scrape by, but Meng Yu's vacation was starting soon... He shuddered. Thinking it over and over, rather than sitting around waiting for doom, he might as well be practical; somehow, he had to figure out a way to get through this year!

Weighing repeatedly between "the terror of Xia Xue" and "the trouble of He Yuting," Yang Rui tragically discovered that the former was far more destructive. Fine! With a hardening of his heart, he resolutely decided: Tonight, he would officially "re-enter the pugilistic world"! Making money was the absolute truth!

...

The winter night in Jiangnan was damp and bone-chilling, the cold seeming to seep straight into the marrow. Yet, Keqiao's pedestrian street seemed insulated from this bitter chill, still bright as day and teeming with crowds. Yang Rui's "studio" was huddled in the most inconspicuous shadow at the street corner. Though the location was secluded, its advantage lay in being low-key and safe, less likely to attract trouble.

He sat upright in that aged grand master's chair, deliberately striking a pose of "Taoist transcendence." In his right hand, he held with great pretense a pipe claimed to be "handmade Italian Castello"—in reality, a street-stall knockoff—while perched atop his head was an English bowler hat utterly out of place with the surrounding environment—a piece he had carefully scavenged by referencing Xu Wenqiang's styling from *The Bund*. The brim of the hat was pulled down extremely low, obscuring nearly half his face.

This hat was Yang Rui's carefully considered "equipment." First, it acted like a mask, veiling his expressions and making him hard to read; second, it fostered an air of mystery, making him appear "inscrutable"; third, it allowed him to hide beneath the shadow of the brim, scanning passing pedestrians without a stir. As for the unlit, empty pipe, it was purely a "prop" to prop up his appearance; in his own words, "If you're going to put on airs, you have to do it all the way!" However, he strictly adhered to professional rules: he never actively solicited business. Skilled work required a certain style!

Operating solo tonight, business was actually quite good, and he had already taken several orders. Only... why wasn't Wu Yun showing up yet? Could she really have thought of me as a scammer? Yang Rui muttered inwardly in doubt.

"Hey! Look at that fool! Wearing a bowler hat inside at night, playing ghost-catching games!" "Sucking on a pipe without even any tobacco leaves, laughing my head off!" A few ruffians passing by pointed at Yang Rui and burst into mocking laughter.

Yang Rui remained completely motionless, his face beneath the shadow of the brim entirely devoid of ripples. Would a master deign to lower himself to common folk? Deep down, however, he spat mentally: None of your damn business how Grandpa likes to dress! A bunch of hicks!

Dismissing the chatter, he cast his gaze back toward the "scenery" on the street.

Strangely enough, Keqiao was known as the "International Textile Capital," housing the world's largest specialized textile market—the China Light Textile City, where roughly a quarter of the world's fabrics were traded annually. Yet, during the day, it was hard to spot any eye-catching beauties. But the moment the lights flickered on, those "demons" hidden during the day would swarm out as if by prior agreement. Plump and slender, dazzling to the eye, making one resent not having more eyes to look with!

Just as he was lamenting this, a tall figure captured his gaze. The woman wore a short-style down jacket on her upper body, exquisitely tailored so that it didn't look bloated at all, instead tracing out well-proportioned curves. The zipper was pulled only halfway up to her chest, vaguely revealing the lace edge of an inner V-neck shirt, while an elegant purple silk scarf was wrapped around her neck, just perfectly covering the spring scenery that invited wild imagination, forcing Yang Rui to reluctantly withdraw his probing gaze.

On her lower body, a pair of washed-blue skinny jeans hugged straight, slender legs, and she wore a pair of pointed-toe high-heeled boots, stretching her already superior bodily proportions to near perfection. Her slightly wavy, flowing hair carried a light chestnut luster, making an already exquisite face stand out even more: a bridge of the nose as straight and prominent as if carved by a master artisan, small and full lips, and a skin tone of cold-toned fairness. Most captivating of all were her eyes—large and deep, with slightly sunken sockets, carrying a hint of exotic, mixed-race charm.

This face... seemed like he had seen it somewhere before? A trace of doubt flickered through Yang Rui's heart. Such a peerless beauty wandering the night alone—what a terrible waste of heaven's creations!