Famine

Chapitre 18

Du Yaofeng squeezed through the crowd on the dance floor alone, his strange, oversized robe going unnoticed. In a place like this, it didn't matter what you wore; it wouldn't attract much attention.

In front of the dance floor is a row of metal staircases leading directly to the second floor. With the stainless steel railings behind the staircases and facing the dance floor, Du Yaofeng believes he has found the best spot, with the mountain behind him and the sea in front of him, allowing him to express himself freely.

The lights shifted rapidly, the overall tone of the light was darkness, and beams of multicolored lasers shot out from the central laser sphere from time to time. Under such lighting conditions, displaying nudity would go unnoticed for a few seconds, and even if someone glanced at you from afar, they might mistakenly think you were wearing a fashionable outfit...

Du Yaofeng glanced at his watch, the Casio he had taken from his daughter's wrist. The time on the fluorescent screen was 11:55 PM; the "deadline" was fast approaching.

On the stainless steel staircase, men and women, holding wine glasses and swaying their hips, were conversing. Under the blasting sound, they had to shout at the top of their lungs to make conversation.

Du Yaofeng loosened the belt of his robe and vaguely felt his nipples throbbing; they had been impatient for a long time...

*Smack!* A large hand wearing an emerald ring landed heavily on Du Yaofeng's shoulder.

Du Yaofeng was startled and quickly turned around. Right behind and above her, on the stainless steel steps, leaning against the railing, stood a man wearing a French crocodile shirt and jeans, holding a bottle of beer, grinning as he looked down at her.

"Wang... Mr. Wang...?!"

Du Yaofeng couldn't understand how he could run into the boss in a place like this. But then he thought, since he was already here, why couldn't the boss be here too?

Mr. Wang is not from Shanghai; he was parachuted in from Shenzhen by the company headquarters. He was appointed to the position during a time of crisis, and in just a year and a half, he turned the company around and made it profitable. As a result, he secured his position as the company's CEO, and kicked the original CEO to Inner Mongolia to expand the market in the vast Hulunbuir Grassland.

With my wife and kids not around, I naturally feel unbearably lonely at night if I'm not working overtime and don't feel tired.

"Alone?" President Wang asked her with a smile, glancing at Du Yaofeng's large robe with a knowing look.

"Wow, what kind of clothes are those? They're pretty cool!"

Oil painting No. 51: 773 Horror Series 13

Section 40: Why can't the boss come?

"I've been here for over an hour, and my ears are practically deafened. Don't you have a car? Could you give me a ride?"

Du Yaofeng checked his watch again: 11:59:41, 42, 43...

The seconds ticked up, beads of sweat dripped from his forehead, but Mr. Wang remained enthusiastic, continuing his lengthy discussion:

"Yaofeng, I really like your POLO. How much did it cost? I heard that in Shanghai, donating a license plate can get you a third of the car's price—that's too expensive!"

There's no time left, no other choice but to do one thing—

brush!

Du Yaofeng suddenly flung open his robe.

The clock on the wall points to 12:03 noon.

The office door was locked, the blinds were all drawn, and Mr. Wang sat motionless in his large swivel chair, like a statue. He held a Sony Ericsson P802 phone in his hand, the warning text message displayed on the PDA-sized screen.

"Zoe on the Windowsill" was placed on the sofa, and Mr. Wang's eyes were almost meeting those of the person whose face was exposed outside the mask.

After last night's astonishment and disbelief, and then witnessing it firsthand just minutes ago, and receiving a new message on his phone, Mr. Wang is now in a state of utter confusion.

Oh my god, I can't believe it's true.

If I had known it would turn out like this, I wouldn't have watched it...

Human curiosity can sometimes do really bad things!

At this moment, in the advertising company's large office, Du Yaofeng, dressed in her work attire, sat in her office area with an indescribable feeling. Although she didn't want to admit it, she had to admit that this feeling was too much like gloating.

Mr. Wang, you brought this on yourself.

Beforehand, I repeatedly explained to you the dangers of viewing that painting, but you wouldn't listen. I guess all men are like that; once they hear that the woman in the painting will turn naked, they'll do anything.

For example, if I give you an Armani tie, and you use it to hang yourself, what can I do? You deserve it!

Everyone says women are shameless, but now I know that when men act shamelessly, they're just as shameless as women.

Actually, this matter is not difficult to resolve; it just depends on how determined you are.

AK47 has already closed down. Even if they were to continue operating, they wouldn't use a man with a protruding belly for body painting.

The company has 36 employees, more than half of whom are women. You can solemnly announce that an emergency meeting will be held after get off work, and all employees must attend. Before the meeting begins, you suddenly rush out of the office completely naked...

Doesn't that solve the problem?

Of course, you also need to consider the consequences of doing this: as early as tomorrow or the day after, you will receive a fax from the company headquarters announcing your dismissal, with Vice President Zhang acting as your substitute, and then they will buy you a plane ticket to go back to Shenzhen to explain to the president.

Ultimately, it's up to you to decide.

...

At 2 p.m., Mr. Wang, feeling depressed, stepped into the equally depressing elevator.

He wanted to go to the ground floor of the building, where there was a high-mountain tea shop, to have a cup of fragrant tea. There was a tea ceremony hostess there who seemed to be interested in him; her eyes clearly hinted: Hey, you can ask me out.

However, Mr. Wang remained uninterested because of her nose. Her nose had been augmented. Her face was a standard Eastern face, flat, but she had been given a very high nose like Julia Roberts's, as if a tall building had been erected out of nowhere. It was very abrupt and almost shocking.

I waited a full fifteen minutes for the elevator. This 45-story office building, which I don't know which excellent property management company they hired, often implements some baffling management measures. For example, regarding elevator operation, they differentiate between peak and off-peak hours. During peak hours, elevators A, C, and E only stop on even-numbered floors, while elevators B, D, and F only stop on odd-numbered floors. During off-peak hours, elevators A and B travel between floors 1 and 20, elevators C and D travel between floors 21 and 40, and elevators E and F go directly to floors 30 and above.

With this kind of operation, not to mention outsiders, even people who work in the building often take the wrong elevator, causing complaints to rise and fall in the elevator: the owner of this building and the owner of this property must be the brother-in-law and brother-in-law.

This is what everyone is saying. In fact, the property management company was founded by a civil servant who resigned from the district government to start his own business. He was originally a public servant, and now he's managing the people—such a role reversal is truly remarkable.

The elevator wasn't crowded. During peak hours, this small space could only fit a maximum of twenty-seven people, which would break the Guinness World Record.

To Mr. Wang's left stood a short, thin young man who delivered packages. He was as thin as a piece of firewood, wearing cheap sneakers, and reeking of sweat. He was clearly a migrant worker from the countryside who had come to Shanghai to work. He had a large bag slung over his shoulder and was flipping through a stack of package slips, calculating how much time this delivery would take and which route would be shorter for the next one.

Mr. Wang suggested that a coin-operated shower room should be installed in the lobby of the office building so that they can take a good shower and wash away the pungent smell of sweat before stepping into the elevator.

To Mr. Wang's right was a young woman delivering takeout, wearing a shop uniform with the words "Master Jin's Wonton" written on her chest. She was holding a ten-yuan note in her hand, which must have been given to her by a customer. The young woman looked to be no more than sixteen or seventeen years old and was very well-developed. Mr. Wang guessed that she must be the third or fourth child in her family, who had barely finished junior high school before coming to Shanghai to work with a few other girls from her village.

Compared to these migrant workers and women from other parts of the country, Mr. Wang felt an inexplicable sense of superiority, which made him feel better. However, compared to the chubby, dark-skinned man in the suit standing in the corner of the elevator, Mr. Wang felt a surge of anger. The suit and tie were Armani, the glasses were Gucci, and the handbag was Louis Vuitton. Mr. Wang guessed that this guy was Japanese, not because there were many Japanese companies in the office building, but because of his arrogant demeanor.

Most Japanese in Shanghai were just as arrogant as the Imperial Army during the Japanese occupation. Back then, the Imperial Army would swagger through the streets with their Type 38 rifles on their shoulders, and the citizens dared not speak out against them. But now, they relied not on the rifles on their shoulders, but on the overflowing RMB in their pockets.

Oil painting No. 51: 773 Horror Series 13

41st period: 12:03 PM

This kid must be cursing his boss, wishing he could dig up the boss's ancestral graves. This is the experience that Boss Wang summarized for his subordinates: don't be fooled by their smiling faces and flattery; they secretly hope you get hit by a car and die soon.

There was another white-collar woman in the elevator, perhaps a secretary, definitely not a department head—the kind with more free time. While others were busy as bees, she could sit in front of the mirror, applying makeup again and again, patiently painting her face with expensive paint. Sure enough, she pulled a Chanel makeup case from her Prada bag and looked at herself in the mirror, oblivious to everyone else. She knew every man in the elevator was watching her; this was exactly what she needed.

"Slut!" Boss Wang cursed viciously.

He was startled and instinctively covered his mouth, thinking he had actually cursed out loud. But when he looked around, it seemed no one had heard him. Thankfully, he had only cursed in his mind.

Sometimes, Mr. Wang wished there was a drug he could take at night, like Spencer Tracy in *Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde*, instantly transforming into a demon. Then, he would unhesitatingly choose the slut in front of him as his target—a sexual assault, of course, not to kill her. During the day, his body would return to normal, and he would go to work politely, directing his subordinates to achieve their targets. Mr. Wang was interested in trying out this kind of life.

Ding! The elevator reached the ground floor with a pleasant sound. The elevator doors opened, and everyone scattered like birds and beasts. Mr. Wang was the last to step out of the elevator.

Inside the teahouse, there were very few customers. The same tea lady was still serving Mr. Wang, skillfully performing a series of actions such as warming the teapot, adding tea leaves, and pouring hot water, all the while gazing at him with her beautiful eyes. To be honest, Mr. Wang was quite attracted to her eyes, but if the light were magnified even slightly, allowing that annoying nose to come into view, he felt an urge to punch her.

"Mr. Wang, you don't seem very happy today. Is something wrong at work?"

The tea ceremony hostess skillfully manipulated the exquisite teapot and teacups with her slender fingers, a truly beautiful sight.

Mr. Wang gave a wry smile, did not answer, smelled the aroma, and took a sip of tea.

"You probably just got scolded by the chairman on the phone, right? Hehe..." The tea ceremony hostess joked with him, trying to lighten the mood. Seeing that Mr. Wang didn't respond, she started introducing the newly arrived tea. Mr. Wang ignored her, his eyes fixed on the cheongsam she was wearing. The fabric and style were nice, like the one Maggie Cheung wore in "In the Mood for Love," but... why was her chest so flat?

Since you've already gotten a nose job, why not get a breast augmentation? Is it because the plastic surgery clinic is short of materials, or is it something you simply haven't thought of?

You've overlooked the areas that should be elevated, while haphazardly adding anything that shouldn't be elevated. You've really got your priorities wrong!

If it's because you're short of money, you should have told me sooner. I would have been happy to pay for it for you without expecting anything in return. Just please, please, don't let me see that nose of yours again.

After finishing the tea, settling the bill, and giving a tip, Mr. Wang left the tea shop with a box of finely packaged Tieguanyin tea, amidst greetings of "Take care, Mr. Wang, come again when you have time," and headed towards the elevator lobby. Just then, an E elevator, which goes directly to floors 30 and above, arrived at the ground floor. Everyone filed out, with Mr. Wang being the first to step in and press the 36th floor button. Following him, three men and two women entered the elevator. A girl with large eyes who somewhat resembled Zhao Wei pressed the 30th floor button; a gentleman in a red plaid shirt pressed the 41st floor button; a tall, handsome gentleman pressed the 39th floor button; the middle-aged man next to him, clearly accompanying him, didn't press a floor button, and the two whispered to each other. Finally, a woman wearing glasses and a beige suit, exuding an air of elegance, carrying a brown paper document bag, pressed the 45th floor button.

The top floor of the 45-story office building houses the headquarters of J Group. I've heard that a third of the group's management is female; judging from her confident demeanor, she's at least a department manager. I've also heard that a department manager at J Group earns twice as much as General Manager Wang, because J Group is a large, listed state-owned enterprise. In its industry, private companies are not allowed to compete, thus securing its dominant position, unmatched by any other company.

I heard there's a top modeling agency on the 39th floor. That tall, handsome gentleman might be a male model, and the middle-aged man next to him must be his agent.

Male model...model...nude...

Mr. Wang's thoughts drifted back to that place.

Du Yaofeng, a mother with a stable job and a good income, actually did such a thing in public, in front of her boss!

I know her. She's not the kind of person who seeks thrills. She must have been forced into a corner. The will to survive can bring out a person's latent courage.

Of course I don't want to die, I want to live, I want to avoid that terrible thing...

Therefore, I had no other choice.

A thought suddenly popped into Mr. Wang's mind:

You'll have to take it off sooner or later, so why rush it just a few seconds before the deadline, making it a life-or-death situation, like lying on the guillotine with the blade stopping just an inch from your neck?

Why don't you take them off now!

Let's take care of it in the elevator!

Suddenly, Mr. Wang began to undress with astonishing speed, as if divinely inspired. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his suit jacket, pulled his hand out of his sleeve, gave it a light shake, and the jacket fell to the ground. He loosened his tie and tossed it aside, then began to unbutton the small buttons of his grey polo shirt, one by one. The people around him were initially surprised, assuming he found the elevator too stuffy. But when Mr. Wang took off his shirt, revealing his bare chest—what we would call "bare-chested" in Shanghainese—their surprise turned into astonishment.

Mr. Wang continued his efforts, unbuckled his Dunhill belt, and pulled down the brass zipper of his BALLY trousers. With a swirl, the trousers fell to his ankles, and the metal buckle of the belt struck the ground with a crisp sound.

There was only one pair of white underwear left. The girl with big eyes, resembling Zhao Wei, reacted the fastest, realizing what was about to happen. She quickly turned her head, staring at the row of floor buttons, praying the elevator would arrive quickly. The woman with glasses still seemed confused, staring blankly at Mr. Wang. The three men, without exception, were intimidated by the man's imposing presence, speechless. The tall, handsome male model instinctively hid behind his agent.

Oil painting No. 51: 773 Horror Series 13

Section 42: Male Model, Model, Nude...

"Ah!" The woman with glasses was the first to exclaim, her voice booming in the cramped elevator space.

Mr. Wang guessed that her moans must have been just as loud.

The scream startled the girl with big, Zhao Wei-like eyes. She turned around shakily, glancing behind her. Oh no! The man was staring at her smugly, even winking at her, as if to say:

See? It's free! You might as well watch it!

She quickly covered her eyes with her hands, unable to look any longer.

The elevator reached the 30th floor, the doors opened, and a girl with big eyes like Zhao Wei was the first to rush out; followed by a woman wearing glasses, whose brown paper document bag fell to the ground, which she didn't bother to pick up and fled in panic; the male model and his agent, along with the man in the red plaid shirt, all chose to escape the elevator on this floor. They couldn't predict what shocking things this man would do after stripping naked, so they decided to make a hasty retreat.

In the elevator lobby on the 30th floor, there were more than a dozen people waiting for this E elevator. They were all going up. As soon as the elevator door opened, three men and two women suddenly rushed out and got stuck at the elevator door.

What's wrong with you? So impatient, you have no manners at all.

In the office building teeming with white-collar workers, a fine habit has been cultivated: everyone is humble and courteous, and the jostling and pushing scenes common on the subway are extremely rare here. So, people waiting for the elevator automatically form two lines, letting the first few people squeeze out before entering the elevator in an orderly fashion…

A man stood in the elevator, his suit and shirt lying on the floor, his trousers and underwear piled up on his black socks at his ankles. He stood with his hands on his hips, watching the people about to enter the elevator, a strange excitement flashing in his eyes.

That look in his eyes is so similar to that of Director Chen of the S Art Museum.

The people in front stopped, while those behind, unaware of what was happening, continued walking forward, bumping into each other until finally someone screamed. No one dared to step into this E-elevator. After a brief standoff of a few seconds, the elevator doors closed automatically and continued its ascent.