I Turned Filthy Rich Just By Sleeping With Women?!-Chapter 43: The Black Ledger

There was one thing weighing heavily on Zhao Yiming’s mind.

Back when he was still Lao Chen, he used to carry Jin Haolong’s golf equipment to the first apartment building—the most rundown building in the entire complex.

At the time, he didn’t want to overthink it. He wasn’t the kind of man to pry into other people’s business. He just did the job and called it a day.

But now? Everything was starting to make sense.

Su Meilin had once mentioned that Jin Haolong kept all of his "things" there.

But what exactly were those things?

"Meilin," Zhao Yiming began, his voice low, "what do you think your husband was hiding in that first apartment building? Isn’t it weird that he visited that place so often? Out of all the buildings... that’s the worst one."

Now that he said it out loud, Meilin’s brows furrowed. "He did mention it once... Said it was just a room to store his hobby equipment. But the way he said it was... defensive."

"I think we should check it out," Luo Yanyu chimed in. "Every place matters now, and honestly, I’m worried about Madam He and Mr. Wu too. Something feels off about Lianwu Street."

"Then let’s move. We need to hurry."

They all agreed and made their way toward the first building.

As its name implied, it was the oldest building in the complex—neglected, weathered, and falling apart at the edges.

The elevator hadn’t worked in years, and naturally, Jin Haolong’s unit was on the eight floor.

"Ugh... why is this apartment so different from the others?"

Luo Yanyu huffed as she finally reached the eight floor, wiping the sweat from her brow. Zhao Yiming and Su Meilin trailed behind her.

Unlike the athletic Yanyu, Meilin was struggling. She exercised daily, but only lightly, and the unit in this high floors was no joke.

"I... I’m going to renovate this building..." Su Meilin gasped between breaths.

Zhao Yiming just smiled to himself, quietly recalling how he used to haul those damned heavy golf bags up all eight flights. Alone.

"That’s the room," he said, pointing down the hall.

Su Meilin blinked in surprise. "How do you know? I followed him here once, a long time ago... but I don’t even remember which door it was."

Zhao Yiming froze for half a second, then awkwardly coughed. "Ah... I was friends with the old security guard. He always grumbled about how the landlord made him carry golf equipment to this room."

"Oh, you mean Lao Chen?" Meilin sighed, her voice softening. "Poor old man... Died just like that. I’m glad that driver took responsibility, though. She paid for everything and even gave a large sum to his family."

Zhao Yiming’s hand paused on the doorknob.

"She went to jail?" he asked quietly. "And how much did she pay?"

"Yeah... after the trial, she was sentenced. And she gave around $200,000 to his family, I heard."

"...I’m glad," Zhao Yiming murmured.

At least his death hadn’t become a burden to his family. That kind of money would be enough to renovate their shop and help them live comfortably for a while.

Then, without another word, he slid the golden key into the doorknob.

Click.

The door opened.

As they stepped inside, the apartment unit surprised them.

Zhao Yiming had never actually entered the room before, but he’d expected... something more suspicious. Instead, it looked like a regular unit.

A simple kitchen set was blended into the open-plan living room.

But the atmosphere was off.

It wasn’t messy. It wasn’t dirty. In fact, it was too clean. Too perfect. The sofa was pristine. The TV looked brand new. Everything was in place—but it all felt artificial.

There was no warmth, no sign of life, no photos in walls, and no personality. It was like a display model in a showroom. A room meant to look lived-in without ever actually being lived in.

The unit had only one bedroom, and when they entered it, all three froze in place.

It wasn’t a bedroom at all.

Lined along the wall were five tall storage cabinets and a desk with a single chair. The three exchanged looks before spreading out to search.

The moment they opened the cabinets, their suspicions deepened.

Inside were stacks of documents—land certificates. Dozens of them. Some looked ready to sell, others still bore the names of the previous owners. None of them were Jin Haolong’s.

"This is... messed up," Luo Yanyu muttered, agitation building in her voice.

.

"Should I call Madam Ruan? This place reeks of shady shit. I might be a debt collector, but this is beyond my line."

Zhao Yiming’s fingers brushed against something hard and square inside the desk drawer. Curious, he reached in and pulled it out.

His eyes widened.

A thick, black-bound book—worn around the edges but meticulously kept.

Before he could even say anything, all three of them blurted out at the same time:

"That’s probably the ledger!"

They froze, then looked at each other in shock.

Luo Yanyu was the first to move. She leaned in, eyes narrowing. "Open it. Let’s make sure."

Zhao Yiming nodded and slowly flipped it open. The pages were filled with handwritten records—rows of transactions, names, dates, property exchanges, large cash sums.

Some pages had stamps. Others had red marks. A few had names crossed out entirely.

"This is it..." Su Meilin whispered, her face pale. "This is everything. All the illegal deals. All the properties... even the bribes."

Luo Yanyu let out a low whistle. "No wonder he kept it hidden up here. If this ever got out..."

"It could bring down the whole damn syndicate," Zhao Yiming muttered, flipping through faster now, his brows furrowing with each page.

But then he stopped. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

His finger tapped on a line near the bottom of a page. His voice dropped.

"Su Meilin."

She blinked. "What?"

"Your name is here," he said slowly, turning the book so she could see.

Her eyes scanned the line. Her hand flew to her mouth.

It listed her name next to a property—the noodle shop.

She shook her head. "That’s... that’s not possible. That shop was bought with my own money—my parents’ inheritance. There’s no way—"

"Wait," Yanyu interrupted, flipping a few more pages.

"There’s another name here. Some ’transfer’ record. It says your husband signed it over under your name, but the fine print..." She squinted. "It’s a lease, not ownership."

Su Meilin went quiet.

Zhao Yiming clenched his jaw. "This bastard. He made it look like a gift, but it was a trap. If he died or disappeared, the shop legally reverts to the group. Probably part of a bigger laundering route."

Silence fell over the room.

Su Meilin slowly sat down, trembling slightly. "I... I didn’t know..."

Zhao Yiming closed the book, eyes cold. "We’re taking this ledger to Madam Ruan. Now."