King of Gamblers: Growing from a Student to a Jade King

As I thought about Ma Qing, a memory suddenly surfaced—the graduation photo tucked away in the cabinet. The woman in the photo bore an uncanny resemblance to Ma Qing, and now, the perfume unique to Ma Qing seemed to linger around Sang Ling. Why?

Could they know each other? Or perhaps...

When it came to Sang Ling, I couldn't shake off the thick veil of suspicion enveloping her. There was something inherently odd, something illogical about her presence.

I looked at Sang Ling. She glanced up at me, her gaze shy. Her face flushed with a tender bashfulness, and her delicate lips glistened faintly. As her captivating scent filled the air, I leaned down, pressing my parched lips against hers. She reciprocated with an unexpected passion, locking us in a fervent embrace.

Sang Ling's arms tightened around me as she occasionally let out soft whispers.

Her swift, fervent response caught me off guard. It wasn't like her; even her prior anger toward me had vanished. She seemed desperate to ascend to another plane, to make me forget the past, and this urgency drove her actions.

The car came to a stop in our neighborhood. We went upstairs, and just as I reached to switch on the light, Sang Ling pulled me straight into the bedroom. She looked up at me, her arms wrapped around my waist, and smiled knowingly. She didn't need to say anything; her intentions were clear.

The sunlight grew piercing the next morning as I left the bedroom and found Sang Ling grooming herself in the bathroom. She had dressed impeccably, radiating beauty.

Walking over, I embraced her from behind, my gaze falling on the luxurious array of cosmetics spread across the vanity. She noticed my attention and turned, encircling me in her arms. "I don't want to live here anymore," she said with a smile. "Let's look at houses today."

I chuckled at her words. "Alright."

After waiting briefly in the living room, Sang Ling emerged, dressed simply but stunningly. Apart from a light red lip tint, she wore no other makeup, yet her natural beauty was radiant, almost bewitching.

She caught my gaze and shyly asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're beautiful," I replied.

I extended my hand, and she reached out to take it. Hand in hand, we descended to the car. Zhao Kui, our driver, gave Sang Ling a couple of incredulous glances, sharing my astonishment. Sang Ling frowned and snapped, "Drive. Stop looking back!"

Zhao Kui kept silent, starting the car.

"Take us to the real estate center," I instructed.

Zhao Kui nodded, turning the car. Yet, something about Sang Ling felt different. Her tone toward Zhao Kui and her outfit today—it all seemed out of character.

At the real estate office, enthusiastic sales agents greeted us, showering us with promotional material. While Sang Ling browsed intently, I listened absentmindedly.

My phone rang—it was Qian Guang. I excused myself to answer.

"Hey, Brother Guang," I said.

"Boss Wei just called," he began. "We need to prepare the funds. The auction is in a month, so we have to be ready."

"Got it, Brother Guang," I replied.

"Oh, and about that person you asked me to investigate—I've uncovered a few things."

My heart skipped a beat. Glancing at Sang Ling still engrossed in conversation with the agent, I asked, "What did you find?"

"Sang Ling is local. According to her records, she was born in Factory No. 2 on Nongdao Island. Nothing remarkable, except that she studied abroad at Columbia University at 24—a distinguished achievement for a woman."

I frowned. "Anything else?"

"Here's where it gets interesting. She frequently visits Factory No. 2, a notorious gambling den. It's odd for someone like her to frequent such a place."

A wave of unease swept over me. Sang Ling was far from ordinary.

"Zhao Fei, my man Zhuzi dug deeper. This woman owes an astronomical amount of debt, mostly to loan sharks. Over ten million. I'm warning you, a woman like this is for amusement, not attachment. No matter how stunning, they're just a facade for us men."

I chuckled. "Noted, Brother Guang. Thanks."

Ending the call, I returned to find Sang Ling pointing to a floor plan. "I like this one," she said, "150 square meters, not too pricey—just 5,000 per square meter. Around 750,000 total."

The layout was decent, but I smiled and said, "Forget the small place. I'll get you a villa. Let's go. I'll take you to see villa estates next time."

Her eyes widened with surprise and delight. "Really?"

I smiled, pulling her close as we left. The sales agent rolled their eyes at me as we walked out.

Back in the car, I said, "Of course. And I'll help you clear your debts. Call your ex-boyfriend—I'll make sure you're safe first."

Sang Ling hesitated. "Zhao Fei, there's no rush for that. I just need a place to stay…"

I grinned. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do," she quickly replied.

She made the call. Soon after, we stopped by the bank to withdraw 1.7 million. I handed her the money in the car. She glanced at the cash without much reaction, her composure almost amusing.

If it were anyone else, they'd be overwhelmed by the sight of so much money. Sang Ling, however, barely batted an eye—proof that she had seen far more.

She zipped the bag shut and directed us to a café at Ruìlì World Trade Plaza. Upon arrival, she insisted on going in alone. I watched her struggle with the heavy bag as she approached a man sitting by the window—the same man from that night.

Dialing my phone, I instructed, "Wang Gui, World Trade Plaza. Be here in five minutes."

As I observed the café, the man grabbed Sang Ling's hand, speaking to her sternly, while she seemed resistant.

"Brother Fei," Zhao Kui interjected, "This woman has changed. She even dared to scold me."

I laughed. "She's getting ambitious. Now that she's my woman, she thinks she can order you around."

Zhao Kui frowned, his expression intrigued. Just then, Wang Gui arrived with his men. I lowered the window and said, "See that man? Follow him. I want to meet him tonight. Don't harm him."

"Understood, Brother Fei," Wang Gui replied before leaving with his team.

Zhao Kui turned to me curiously. "What's going on, Brother Fei?"

Ignoring his question, I asked, "Zhao Kui, you're a local, right? What do you know about Nongdao Island?"

"A den of vice," he scoffed. "It borders Myanmar and is filled with all kinds of shady characters. Decades ago, someone tried to establish a factory there, but local thugs drove them out. Since then, it's become a haven for crime—gambling, drugs, fraud. Over time, the factory splintered into multiple sites: Factory No. 2, Factory No. 3, and so on. It's a cancer on the border."

I furrowed my brows. "What about Factory No. 2?"

"A gambling den. Nearly everyone who goes there ends up bankrupt. The police can't do much because it's right on the border. Cross the line, and they're out of reach."

As Sang Ling stormed out of the café, her frustration evident, I couldn't help but smirk. A gambling woman is never a good woman.