O Supremo Genro Escravo

“Beep beep beep… beep beep…”
As the sharp sound of a car horn pierced the air, Xiao Feng suddenly realized he’d been lost in thought, his head hanging low. Without noticing, he had wandered onto the road. A luxurious car, gleaming in a shade of rose gold, was bearing down on him, just a breath away. There was no time to dodge, yet his instincts took over; with lightning speed, he leapt aside, narrowly evading disaster by more than three meters. At the same moment, the car swerved onto the sidewalk.

Screech—
Crash!
The luxury car’s brakes locked up, leaving two black streaks on the pavement as white smoke rose from the tires, the acrid smell of burning rubber suffusing the air. The car slammed into a tree, shattering the trunk of a locust tree as thick as a bowl, snapping it in two. The car finally came to a halt.

Afraid that someone might be hurt, Xiao Feng hurried over. But this was, after all, a luxury car—with safety features to match. Though battered, it had protected its occupant. As the door swung open, a foot in a thick-soled white high-heeled sandal stepped out—revealing a strikingly beautiful foreign woman. She strode out, commanding and furious, and without so much as a word, landed two crisp slaps across Xiao Feng’s face.

Slap! Slap!
“Are you crazy, you pauper? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

She was a Western woman, her Chinese stiff and slightly accented, but at least uncolored by any regional dialects, making her words clear enough. Her hair was a glossy, golden blonde, parted to one side and shimmering wi