Ye Chenghuan chose this job for a simple reason—it was close by. At least he could save on bus fare, and for someone tight on cash, every penny counted.

Compared to other high-end dining clubs in Longdu, Shangri-La wasn’t particularly luxurious, nor was it the biggest. But it had everything: karaoke, oxygen bars, saunas, bowling, and other leisure facilities. Because of this, wealthy locals still flocked here every weekend, enjoying the full suite of services to blow off steam.

After changing into his uniform, Ye Chenghuan went to his post—a shaded booth by the parking lot gate. His job was simple: a chair, a cup of tea, a second-hand newspaper. That was his whole workstation.

Across the lot stood the towering hotel building. Luxury cars gleamed under the sun, and well-dressed men and women streamed into that palace of indulgence, enjoying meals that cost tens of thousands per table and embracing the pleasures of a gilded lifestyle.

Just a few meters away, Ye Chenghuan guarded the gate—a world apart from theirs. Two different lives, two different realities. But he didn’t mind.

His work was easy. Press the button to open the gate, then press it again to close. Perhaps that was why he earned the lowest wage of all staff at the hotel.

At the moment, he sat back in his chair, cigarette dangling from his lips, sipping tea and reading yesterday’s newspaper with one leg lazily swinging.

Suddenly, a piercing car horn interrupted his peace. A black BMW 535 screeched to a halt at the gate. A balding middle-aged man stuck his head out of the window and shouted impatiently:

“Hey! You blind or what? Open the gate! Can’t you see I’m trying to get in?”

Ye Chenghuan stood up, offered a lazy, half-hearted salute, and pressed the button to open the gate. As the car rolled forward, he admired the shiny hood, pulled a cucumber from his pocket, wiped it on his sleeve, and took a loud crunchy bite.

“Whoa, nice ride. Bet it costs a fortune. I wouldn’t mind having one myself.”

The man sneered proudly. “This is a German-made BMW. You couldn’t afford the tires even if I sold you.”

Ye Chenghuan chuckled. “Looks impressive. Even a knockoff would be worth something, right?”

The man’s face darkened. “What do you mean knockoff? Watch your mouth!”

Ye Chenghuan’s eyes drifted to the backseat, his expression tightening. There, slumped against the leather seat, was a young woman in a business suit. Her posture was unnatural, her expression unfocused, and she looked… off.

“Boss,” Ye asked, voice calm but firm, “who’s that in the back? She looks a little out of it.”

“None of your business!” The man snapped. “Get out of the way, or I’ll report you to your manager!”

“Sir,” Ye said with a polite smile, “I’m just doing my job. I’ll need you to step out for a quick inspection.”

“What?!” The man glared. “You’re just a lowly guard! Do you even know who I am?!”

Ye’s tone stayed mild. “Even a lowly guard has his duties. Let’s not make things harder for each other.”

The man gripped the wheel tightly, his knuckles whitening. “Don’t push me. I’ll run you over!”

Ye Chenghuan’s gaze suddenly turned cold—icy cold. His pupils narrowed, an almost chilling pressure emanating from his eyes, making the man freeze. In that instant, the man felt like he’d fallen into an arctic abyss. His breath caught, sweat soaked his shirt.

That look—it was terrifying. As if a predator was staring down its prey.

Ye’s voice softened, but his tone was sharp: “Come on, boss. This isn’t the 90s anymore. Drugging girls? Really?”

The man stiffened. “What did you just say?”

Ye ignored the question. “If you want to impress a woman, do it properly. Charm her. Don't resort to dirty tricks, especially when you’re driving a fake BMW.”

The man gritted his teeth. “What do you want?”

“Simple. Let her go, or I’ll call the police.”

The man hesitated, his pride warring with reality. Eventually, he gave in. He got out and opened the car door.

Ye gently helped the woman out. She was still dazed but conscious. After confirming she was safe, the BMW sped off, the man yelling as he drove away: “You’ll regret this!”

Ye waved lazily. “I’ll be waiting.”

As the woman looked up at him, her eyes shimmered with a mix of confusion and disbelief. Ye offered her a crooked smile. “Nice to meet you, miss.”

She flushed red, pushed away from him, and staggered off. After only a few steps, she twisted her ankle and let out a soft cry, crouching to rub it.

Ye walked over, concerned. “Sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to scare you. Want me to help with that?”

The woman shook her head vigorously, looking at him like he was a cockroach. She stood up stubbornly and limped out of the gate without another word.

Ye watched her leave, sighing. “Man, trying to be a good guy is hard these days.”

He thought for a moment, then frowned slightly. “She didn’t seem like someone who’d hang around guys like that. Probably had her own troubles…”

His phone buzzed.

“Ye Chenghuan, the GM wants to see you. Office. Now.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s up? Promotion?”

“Yeah, right. More like you’re in trouble.”

In the office, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Mr. Qi, the general manager and owner of Shangri-La, sat behind his desk, his face dark.

“I heard you stopped a guest from entering? A VIP guest? From Oriental International?”

Ye nodded, guessing where this was going.

“That man was one of our most important clients! Do you know what you’ve done?!” Mr. Qi slammed his palm on the desk.

Ye tried to smooth things over. He sat casually on the desk, picked up a premium cigarette from the box, and offered one to the boss. “Relax, have a smoke. Let me explain.”

Mr. Qi’s face turned red with rage. “Did you just sit on my desk and smoke my cigarettes?! Get down!”

Ye obliged. “Here’s the deal—he brought in a woman who was clearly drugged. I stepped in. Did my duty. Saved the hotel from a potential scandal. No need to thank me—unless you want to raise my salary.”

Mr. Qi trembled with anger. “Raise your—? You’re fired! Pack your things and get out!”

Ye’s smile faded. “You serious?”

“Dead serious! And don’t think you’re getting paid, either!”

Ye raised his eyebrows. “No wages?”

“Not a cent! You should be paying me for the trouble!”

Ye’s eyes narrowed. His tone dropped. “So that’s how it is.”

He glanced around the office, mumbling, “What’s the most expensive thing in here…”

His eyes landed on the safe in the corner.

“What are you doing?” Mr. Qi suddenly looked nervous.

Ye didn’t answer. He rolled up his sleeves, wrapped his shirt tightly around his knuckles, and walked over.

“Don’t you dare! I’m calling the police!”

Ye measured the safe with his eyes, then raised his fist—

BANG!

One punch. The thick metal dented inward, a gaping hole left on top.

Mr. Qi stared, dumbfounded.

Ye Chenghuan dusted off his hands and walked out. “Don’t worry—I’m not a thief. Just making a point.”