Pig Boss Heiress: The Golden Hog Chairman Returns to Settle Debts

The atmosphere in the dazzling, gold-plated living room of the Chu family was thick with phoniness, like a thin veneer that could peel off at any moment. I, Chu Nhược Vi, Chairman of the Golden Hog High-Tech Agriculture Group—the exclusive supplier of organic pork to 5-star restaurants globally, with a personal fortune in the trillions—stood there, embodying the role of the “long-lost country bumpkin heiress” my biological parents had forced upon me.

My shimmering, hot pink áo bà ba (a fashion masterpiece my mother, Lý Lệ, insisted I wear) made me a glowing anomaly, utterly out of place amidst the garish luxury.

“Nhược Vi, stand over in that corner, don’t touch the imported Italian leather sofa. Your sweat will ruin the hide.”

The sour voice belonged to Chu Gia Hân, the adopted daughter who had occupied my place for 20 years. She was a phony white lotus in a pristine white silk dress, sipping red wine with her legs crossed. I glanced at the sofa she was protecting: Oh, recycled plastic composite leather, grade-two Guangzhou knockoff, 3 million VND a set with free throw pillows on Taobao.

“Yes, I know, Gia Hân chị,” I nodded obediently, retreating behind a plastic faux-feng shui plant. I held back, not because I was kind, but because I was waiting to see how this comedic play would unfold.

Today, the Chu family was hosting an “intimate tea party” disguised as a blind date. The target was Tống Tử Ngôn, the only heir of the Tống family—a man infamous in Beijing for two achievements: spending money like water and changing girlfriends faster than his underwear. My parents’ objective was clear: marry Gia Hân to Tống Tử Ngôn to prop up their rapidly declining economic status. As for me, I was the backdrop, the catalyst to enhance the noble elegance of their precious Gia Hân.

“Tử Ngôn ca has arrived!” the maid announced.

The mahogany doors swung open, and Tống Tử Ngôn entered. Wearing a glaring maroon suit and his hair slicked back so shiny a fly would slip, his eyes ogled Gia Hân before freezing when they spotted me—the glowing pink mass in the corner.

“Wha—What is that thing?” He pointed at me, his face wrinkling as if he’d just caught a whiff of fermented shrimp paste.

Bà Lý Lệ rushed over, forcing a chuckle: “Oh, that’s Nhược Vi, our recently found lost daughter. She’s used to country life, a bit slow-witted, and her style is… well, phèn (tacky). Please pay her no mind.”

“Hello, anh,” I grinned, deliberately putting on the most naive smile I could. “Back home, I always wear this to feed the pigs. It’s very comfortable.”

Tống Tử Ngôn sneered, pulling out a handkerchief to cover his nose: “No wonder I caught a faint whiff of pig feed. Madam, aren’t you afraid of affecting the feng shui by having someone like this in the house? Gia Hân, you are so delicate, what if you catch a disease from this vulgar thing?”

Chu Gia Hân immediately put on her good sister act. She glided over, hooking her arm through his, her voice cloying: “Tử Ngôn anh, don’t say that, you wound her. She is my flesh and blood, after all. She wasn’t properly educated from a young age and doesn’t know how to dress. Please be understanding.” She turned to me, a flash of smugness in her eyes: “Nhược Vi, you see Tử Ngôn anh here and you just stand around? Go make tea for our guest, and remember to use Father’s precious purple clay teapot from the display cabinet.”

Make tea? Fine.

I shuffled into the kitchen. Quickly, I calculated in my head: Chu Corp owes 500 billion VND to the bank. Tống Corp is being investigated for tax fraud. An alliance between these two families would be like birds of a feather flocking together, destined for jail.

I brought the tea tray out. The purple clay teapot looked antique, but to the expert eye of someone who used to bid on artifacts, it was a knockoff from the flea market, costing no more than 200 yuan.

“Please enjoy your water, anh!” I slammed the tray onto the table with a CLACK!

Tống Tử Ngôn flinched, glaring: “What are you doing? That teapot is worth more than your entire life of pig farming!”

Chu Gia Hân seized the moment. She pushed me aside and sat down gracefully in the main seat to brew the tea. “Let me make it for you, Tử Ngôn anh. This is premium Dragon Well tea Father acquired at an auction. It cleanses the body, unlike some people who only drink well water.”

The tea’s aroma wafted out—a chemical smell that almost made me sneeze. Dragon Well? This is just shredded tea leaves scented with jasmine, sold by the kilogram at the wholesale market.

Chu Gia Hân poured a cup, her eyes crinkling with a smile. She lifted the hot tea, intending to hand it to Tống Tử Ngôn, but as she walked past me, her foot accidentally caught the edge of the rug. In true melodramatic fashion, the scalding tea flew directly towards my face.

She wants to disfigure me?

My reflexes, honed by dodging enraged 200-kilogram boars, were instantaneous. I tilted my body $45^\circ$ to the left, a movement as smooth as Michael Jackson.

SMASH!

The teacup missed me, but by the laws of physics, it flew straight into Tống Tử Ngôn’s crotch, where he was seated directly behind her.

“Aieee! Aieee!” A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the mansion.

Tống Tử Ngôn shot up like a scared shrimp, clutching his nether regions, his face turning from red to purple. He hopped around the living room like a dancing lion. “Hot! Too hot! I’m burned! Help me!”

The room descended into chaos. Chu Gia Hân, frozen mid-throw, whirled around, instant crocodile tears streaming down her face. “Nhược Vi, why did you push me? I know you’re jealous that Tử Ngôn anh complimented me, but you can’t throw hot tea at him!”

“What? Push?” I was standing a meter away from her!

Bà Lý Lệ skipped the argument and lunged to slap me. “You little bitch! Are you trying to kill him? Get back to your pigsty right now!”

I caught her wrist mid-air. The strength of someone who lifts two buckets of pig feed every day was not to be trifled with. Bà Lý Lệ grimaced in pain, unable to pull her hand away.

“Calm down, Mother,” I said, my voice ice-cold, the naivety gone. “First, the security camera in the corner clearly shows I never touched my sister’s sleeve. Second, she was holding the cup, she tripped, and she threw the tea at Mr. Tống’s sensitive area. Who are you trying to frame? ”

“You—You dare talk back?!” Ông Chu Đại Hải roared, stepping forward.

“Father, you should calm down too.” I released Lý Lệ’s wrist, dusting off my pink sleeve. “I’m helping you save money. If Mr. Tống’s gun is permanently damaged, how much compensation will the Tống family demand? Do you have the money, or will you have to sell this fake teapot?”

“What? Are you calling my stuff fake?!” Ông Chu’s face turned purple, his fragile ego bruised.

I smirked, walking over to the tea table. I picked up the lid and tapped the body of the teapot. “Clunk-clunk.” A dull sound, completely lacking the clear, crisp ring of real purple clay. I grabbed the package of tea and tore it open: “Premium Dragon Well leaves should be flat and emerald green. This pile of black, moldy crumbs must be the batch you bought for 50,000 VND a kilo from the wholesale market, right?”

Silence fell in the room.

“Mr. Tống, are you feeling any itchiness in your throat? Be careful of food poisoning. The mold in this tea is terrible for your liver and kidneys. It could even affect your reproductive health more than that scalding burn.”

Hearing “reproductive health,” Tống Tử Ngôn’s face went green. Forgetting his pain, he scrambled up and vomited violently all over the expensive floor. “Ugh! You people dare to poison me! Lý Lệ, Chu Đại Hải, you just wait! I’m telling my father to pull the investment! Swindlers! Moldy tea sellers!” Clutching his trousers, he fled out the door.

The blind date was a spectacular, tragicomic failure.

“You! Get out of my house!” Ông Chu bellowed, grabbing the ashtray.

“Are you kicking me out, Father?” I blinked innocently. “I can go. But I heard Grandmother is returning from the US next week to divide the inheritance. She’s very traditional and favors direct bloodline. If she knew you kicked out your biological granddaughter to keep an adopted one who clumsily scalded a guest’s private parts, who do you think she’ll leave the assets to?”

Ông Chu’s arm, holding the ashtray, froze mid-air. All three of them were stunned. He was right; Grandmother, the Chu family matriarch who held 80% of the shares, was coming back, and that was the only reason I was here.

Good.

I shrugged and turned to leave, abandoning the three rage-filled people behind me. Back in the tiny, dusty attic room they had assigned me, I locked the door and pulled the limited-edition, gold-plated phone from my áo bà ba pocket.

“Hello, Chairman,” my assistant’s voice was respectful. “The Black Gold pig batch just sold at auction for 20 million USD. The funds have been transferred to your private account.”

“Excellent. Use a small amount of cash to buy up the bad debts of my father’s company. It’s time for me to become this family’s creditor.”

The next morning, the phone vibrated. “Chairman, I’ve acquired 40% of Chu Corp’s bad debt. The bank just announced foreclosure. The court summons will be delivered to Mr. Chu tomorrow.”

“Perfect. But hold the summons. Grandmother is arriving tomorrow. I want to give the old lady a grand welcome gift. Prepare the transport. I’ll pick up Grandmother. Make sure the vehicle is… impressive.”

“Will the Chairman be using the Rolls-Royce Phantom or the Bentley?”

“Neither,” I looked out at the dark night, a wicked smile playing on my lips. “Use the company’s dedicated 5-ton pig transport truck, the one with the huge Golden Hog logo. I want to see if my precious Grandmother can handle this strong scent of the countryside.”

The Capital International Airport, 9:00 AM.

The Chu family had hired a large contingent of reporters and cameramen, crowding the VIP lounge to live-stream the tearful reunion between the billionaire overseas grandmother and the filial granddaughter, Chu Gia Hân. Gia Hân was in a modernized cheongsam with embroidered peonies, holding a bouquet of lilies larger than herself. Behind them stood a fleet of black luxury cars, led by a Rolls-Royce Phantom—all rented by the hour to impress Grandmother.

“Where is Nhược Vi? Why isn’t she here yet?” Ông Chu Đại Hải grumbled.

Beep beep beep. Oink oink ooo.

A uniquely strange horn sounded, a mix of a rooster crowing and a hungry pig squealing, tearing through the solemn atmosphere of the VIP lounge. From a distance, a gigantic, gleaming chrome yellow metal block lumbered towards them. It was a 10-ton specialized transport truck. The side was emblazoned with a smiling golden hog holding an ingot, with the red slogan: “Golden Hog: Eat Well, Sleep Soundly, Delicious to the Bone.”

The truck screeched to a halt right in front of Ông Chu’s rented Rolls-Royce Phantom, blocking the reporters’ view.

The door swung open, and I jumped down, still in my hot pink áo bà ba, wearing a straw hat and my legendary rubber sandals.

“Sorry, everyone! The road was packed. My prize sow was giving birth this morning, so I’m a little late!” I waved, beaming at the hundreds of flashing camera lenses.

Ông Chu Đại Hải nearly fainted. Bà Lý Lệ clutched her chest.

Just then, the glass doors of the VIP lounge opened. My grandmother, Vương Quý Lan, with silver hair pulled high, walked out with a dragon-head cane and an imposing aura.

Chu Gia Hân immediately switched to “dutiful granddaughter mode,” running to kneel at Grandmother’s feet: “Grandmother, I’ve missed you so much! You’re finally home!”

Grandmother glanced at Gia Hân, her sharp eyes scanning the high-slit cheongsam, frowning slightly but patting her head. “Stand up. Why all the tears? You’ll smudge your makeup.”

Ông Chu and Bà Lý Lệ rushed over, bowing low: “Mother, you must be tired from the journey. We’ve prepared luxury cars to take you home to rest.” Ông Chu nodded towards the Rolls-Royce, looking proud.

Grandmother looked at the car and gave a slight nod. “You are thoughtful. I’m old, my bones are weak. This car will do.”

Just as Grandmother reached for the door handle, RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE, a group of men in black uniforms and sunglasses, looking extremely menacing, suddenly swarmed the Rolls-Royce and the two Mercedes.

“Stop! Everyone move aside!” The bald, tattooed leader roared, shoving the chauffeur aside. “Do you know whose car this is?!” Ông Chu Đại Hải stammered in panic.

The bald man smirked, tapping the Rolls-Royce’s hood. “We know. This car belongs to Đại Tín Car Rental. Mr. Chu Đại Hải’s rental contract expired at 8:00 AM, and his credit card was just declined due to insufficient funds. Our manager ordered an immediate repossession!”

“Wh—What?!” Ông Chu froze. “Impossible! I still have money in my card!”

“The bank froze your account 15 minutes ago due to overdue bad debts. You have no money, yet you dare to rent a Rolls-Royce? Drag them out! Tow the cars away!”

The entire airport lounge gasped in shock. Grandmother stood there, her cane shaking. She saw her successful son being grabbed by his collar and her heiress granddaughter shrinking in shame. Vương Quý Lan, a woman who valued face above all else, was utterly humiliated.

“Disgraceful! Utterly disgraceful!” Grandmother slammed her cane on the floor.

I leaned against the Golden Hog truck, leisurely popping a peanut candy into my mouth. My assistant’s efficiency is truly commendable. Account frozen right on schedule.

“Grandmother,” I called out, my voice clear and bright. “How about you ride in my car? It’s a bit big, but it’s legitimately mine, so no one will try to repossess it mid-trip, right?”

Grandmother grimaced, looking at the truck with horror. “What? You want me to ride a pig transport truck home?”

I stepped forward and pressed a button on a remote key fob. WHIRR! The rear door of the truck lowered slowly, revealing a ramp covered in a red carpet. Inside the cargo area, there was no steel pig pen, but a luxurious interior clad in Italian bull leather, complete with first-class massage seats, a mini-fridge, an 80-inch TV screen, and an ion-air purification system.

“I custom-designed this to transport my aristocratic breeding pigs, Grandmother. It’s smooth, shockproof, bulletproof, and even has a back massager. Give it a try; I guarantee it’s better than that fake Rolls-Royce.”

Grandmother’s eyes widened. Caught between standing around to hail a taxi in utter humiliation or climbing into the strange, luxurious truck, she took a deep breath and made a decisive choice.

“Fine! I’d rather ride in this country girl’s pig truck than walk with you useless lot!”

She climbed straight into the back.

I looked at Chu Đại Hải and Lý Lệ, who were weeping beside the towed-away Rolls-Royce, and whispered loudly enough for the reporters to hear:

“Welcome home, Grandmother. Your family owes me trillions. Father and Mother, feel free to start collecting pig manure at my Golden Hog farm. We’ll credit a few hundred thousand VND in interest against your debt.”