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

I didn't seek out Xiao Mi—not because I didn't care, but because I feared her. I feared the weight of emotions she might confide in me, and I feared that those emotions might entangle us both. Back in Myanmar, saving her wasn't an act of love, but I knew her feelings had shifted, creating a rift neither of us wanted.

Between us, there was no love, no friendship, and no space for such connections. We were united by a shared goal, navigating the razor's edge of a cliff—each step threatening to send us tumbling down. At any moment, she might push me over the edge.

Xiao Mi despised Qian Guang, and I, unwillingly, had to aid her in expanding her influence. Lao Wu had already established a foothold in Myanmar, and I suspected that once their power grew, Xiao Mi would descend into madness. And that's why I feared her.

Of all the women I've met, Xiao Mi was the most terrifying. She was an addict, a woman fueled by hatred. No one could predict the destruction she might unleash when she erupted.

By dawn, the skies had cleared slightly, allowing the damp, oppressive air to disperse. For the first time in days, there was a sliver of relief.

Zhao Kui lit a cigarette as he stood at the bar's entrance. I joined him, watching the beautiful girls across the street in the jewelry shops, showcasing their glittering wares.

"Brother Fei, it was you who gave her my number, wasn't it?" Zhao Kui asked abruptly.

I glanced at him. "You don't like her?"

"She's a bit…ugly," Zhao Kui replied earnestly.

I nodded. Cheng Na wasn't just a little unattractive; she was a loud and overbearing woman, someone I could hardly tolerate. It was no surprise Zhao Kui disliked her too. "Want to try something outside your comfort zone?" I teased.

Zhao Kui laughed. "I'll pass…"

Shaking my head, I smirked. "Coward."

He shrugged. "This isn't about guts. If you've got the nerve, you go ahead."

Our banter was interrupted by a phone call. The number on the screen belonged to Malan—a bank transfer notification. Ten million yuan.

My account now held nearly thirty million. It sounded like a lot, but in the world of public bidding, it was barely enough—just over four hundred thousand euros. Not even enough for a decent raw gemstone. What does it mean to be wealthy? I had no concept anymore.

At that moment, a flashy BMW 760 pulled up in front of my shop. The window rolled down, and there was Malan. She was dressed provocatively in a white fitted top and a short skirt.

"The money's here?" she asked.

I nodded.

"I've officially registered Malbang Cultural Ltd. I'm a boss now," she declared with a grin. "Get in. I'm taking you to lunch."

I motioned for Zhao Kui to lock up the shop and got in the car. Malan, clearly in high spirits, sped down Ruili Avenue, her joy evident in her reckless driving.

"This car's amazing, but I want an Aston Martin—a three-million-yuan one. That would really let me fly," she said, laughing.

Her words made me break into a sweat. I was a car enthusiast too, but the models she mentioned weren't even available domestically—limited editions reserved for the ultra-rich. It would take decades for her to afford one.

I didn't respond. Engaging her would only invite her to pile on demands. Ignoring her was the safest course.

The car screeched to a halt at World Trade Plaza on Ruili Avenue. Malan parked and led us into a folk-themed restaurant, Mengmao Banquet. The decor was rustic, featuring Yunnan specialties, and the staff, all young and beautiful, greeted us with sweet voices and deep bows.

"This place belongs to that old bastard Chen Xi," Malan remarked. "Look at the customers—there must be hundreds here. Half of the thirty-odd Mengmao Banquet restaurants in Ruili are his. He's raking it in, catering to tourists who want to eat, drink, shop, and then head to Tengchong for hot springs. Damn profitable."

We headed upstairs, but halfway there, Chen Xi appeared with a group of men. His expression darkened when he saw me, though he managed a smile.

"Miss Ma," he greeted.

"Don't call me that. I'm someone with status now. Here's my card—call me 'General Manager Ma,'" Malan retorted, handing him her business card before continuing upstairs.

Chen Xi studied the card with a strange expression as I passed him, flashing a brief smile before following Malan to a private room.

Inside, she asked, "When will you act?"

I frowned. "I want to, but there's no opportunity. I can't get your father involved without resorting to the same tricks. Do you expect me to scam him again?"

She chuckled. "Why not? He's worth barely over a billion. If you can pull it off, I'd be thrilled. Screw it—it's all going to my sister anyway. Might as well take it."

Zhao Kui poured tea as I pondered her ruthlessness. She was even willing to exploit her father. But I wouldn't dare touch Seventh Master. That was a game I couldn't win.

Before I could dwell on it, Chen Xi entered uninvited, surprising us both. Last time, we'd conned him out of thirty million, yet here he was, smiling.

"Miss Ma, Zhao Fei, this meal's on me," he offered.

"Thanks, Uncle Chen!" Malan exclaimed. "If you're treating, I'm going all out. Waiter, bring every dish on the menu."

Her audacity made me chuckle. Malan was shameless—she'd take advantage of anything, big or small.

Chen Xi's face turned green for a moment, but he brushed it off. "Add a bottle of fifty-year-old Maotai for Miss Ma," he instructed.

When the waiter left, Chen Xi turned to me. "Zhao Fei, I'll admit it—I underestimated you. You're a capable man."

His sudden praise made me wary. Compliments from Chen Xi rarely came without strings.

"I'm flattered, Boss Chen," I replied cautiously.

"I want to clarify something," he said, his tone darkening. "The plan to kidnap you in Myanmar wasn't mine. That was Skinny Monkey's idea. He was bitter after you cut off his hand and wanted revenge. I didn't approve. My target was Wei Boss—for the money."

Hearing this, my face darkened. Now he wanted to explain? After nearly killing me, he thought this would make amends?

Malan interjected, "Kidnapped in Myanmar? What's he talking about?"

Ignoring her, I asked Chen Xi, "What's your point?"

He leaned back, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "It's simple. I'm after money. Cross me, and you pay with your life. Got it?"

His words were a veiled threat, but also an offer. I considered the implications carefully. Chen Xi's loyalty lay with profit, not people—a truth that could be both a weapon and a trap.

"Alright, Boss Chen," I said finally. "I'll think about it."

With wolves like him, you either outpace, outwit, or out-risk them.