Chapter 4: Earning Ten Thousand in a Day
Seeing Chen Sheng come out with a fierce look and a kitchen knife in hand, Zhu Zhang’s expression changed. He waved his men to stop.
“Bullshit! Xiao Tong and the others are all my brothers. As long as I’m here, let’s see how you dare lay a finger on him today!”
Chen Sheng remained unmoved, stabbing the kitchen knife into the table beside him. Without a word, he quietly shielded the injured Jiang Butong, who had just been helped up by Jiang Dazhuang.
“You think you’re still the same Chen Sheng from a few years ago? I’ll tell you this once—I’ve got grudges with these three! Are you really going to protect him?”
Zhu Zhang’s face darkened, his eyes sweeping the crowd around them.
“Why don’t you try me?”
Chen Sheng sneered coldly, pointing at a blond kid and a few other ruffians lingering at the back of the onlookers.
“Blondie, your big brother is Tiger, right? Go get him and bring him here—tell him Chen Sheng wants to see him!”
“And you, go get your boss as well!”
“Fine. I’ll give you face today, Chen Sheng.”
Hearing Chen Sheng rattle off those names, Zhu Zhang finally lost his nerve. He gritted his teeth, glared hatefully at Jiang Butong and his friends, and turned to leave.
“What, you think you can just leave after beating up my brother?”
After Jiang Butong whispered a few words to him, Jiang Yuan couldn’t hold himself back. He strode up, beer bottle in hand.
Zhu Zhang pretended not to hear, still walking away.
“Stay where you are!”
Chen Sheng’s brow shot up. He snatched up the kitchen knife and swung it. The blade landed with a sharp thud, burying itself into the ground barely three centimeters from Zhu Zhang’s feet.
Zhu Zhang turned pale as he stared at the knife. Before he could react, a rush of wind came at his head. Fortunately, one of his lackeys was quick-witted and yanked him back in the nick of time, causing Jiang Yuan’s beer bottle to smash into empty air.
Still, the close call left Zhu Zhang soaked in cold sweat.
“I told you not to move—are you deaf?!”
Chen Sheng strode forward and slapped Zhu Zhang hard across the face.
A crisp smack echoed out, leaving a large, red handprint burning on Zhu Zhang’s cheek.
Jiang Butong frowned, watching the scene unfold. Chen Sheng’s demeanor and presence at this moment were nothing like the honest, mild-mannered little restaurant owner he’d appeared to be…
Sensing Jiang Butong’s puzzlement, Chen Sheng turned and gave him a simple, honest smile, then jerked his chin at Zhu Zhang.
“Xiao Tong, got any ideas about what to do with this bastard?”
Jiang Butong shook his head slightly, pushing aside his questions about Chen Sheng’s true identity for now. He frowned and looked at Zhu Zhang.
A moment ago, Zhu Zhang had been full of bluster, but now, facing Jiang Butong, he showed none of his former arrogance—he just stood there meekly, head lowered, like a man resigned to his fate.
Glancing at his swollen ankle, Jiang Butong’s face darkened further as he addressed Zhu Zhang coldly.
“Foreman Zhu, you beat me up again just now. So, what’s it going to be this time—words or fists?”
“Well…”
Zhu Zhang glanced nervously at Chen Sheng’s face, then gritted his teeth.
“So what if it’s words? What if it’s fists?”
“Heh. If it’s fists, then my brothers will give you a fair beating—and then I’ll break your leg myself. We’ll call it even…”
Jiang Butong chuckled.
Chen Sheng and Jiang Yuan both fixed hostile gazes on Zhu Zhang.
Zhu Zhang shuddered violently and shook his head without hesitation. “Words! I’ll take words!”
“Alright then. Ten thousand, not a penny less.”
Jiang Butong sat down casually, stretching out his injured leg.
Zhu Zhang’s face changed, and he fell silent.
“Three… two…”
Jiang Butong didn’t rush him, just stared coldly and began counting down on his fingers.
Chen Sheng and Jiang Yuan each stepped forward.
“Fine, fine, I’ll pay! I’ll pay!”
Zhu Zhang recoiled, heart aching as he fished a bank card from his pocket and handed it to Chen Sheng.
“The password is six eights. There’s exactly ten thousand in there… It was supposed to be for my girlfriend…”
Chen Sheng passed the card to Jiang Yuan, nodding toward the bank at the corner of the alley.
Jiang Yuan understood and hurried off with the card.
It wasn’t long before Jiang Yuan returned and gave Jiang Butong a nod.
Zhu Zhang wiped the sweat from his brow and looked nervously at the unhurried Jiang Butong.
“All right, get lost,” Jiang Butong said, waving him off as he took the card.
But just as Zhu Zhang turned to leave, Jiang Yuan blocked his path.
“Hold on.”
“But… Jiang Butong just said…”
Zhu Zhang’s face froze.
“Xiao Tong is generous and lets you off, but I’ve got a score to settle!”
Jiang Yuan sneered, then kicked Zhu Zhang to the ground.
One of Zhu Zhang’s lackeys tried to step in, but Chen Sheng stopped him with a glare.
Chen Sheng pulled out a cigarette from somewhere, lit it, and watched Jiang Yuan with a complicated expression.
Only when Zhu Zhang had been pummeled into a real pig’s head did Jiang Yuan finally stop.
After Zhu Zhang and his men left, Blondie and the other brash youths showed up, bringing dozens of their friends.
“Brother Sheng!”
“Brother Sheng, we’re here!”
“We heard that pig-headed bastard started trouble again? Where is he, Brother Sheng?!”
Watching the gang leaders crowd around Chen Sheng like stars orbiting a moon, Jiang Butong suddenly had a new theory about why Chen Family Restaurant was always losing money.
Yet Chen Sheng, completely unfazed by his criminal entourage, waved his hand grandly.
“Today, everyone’s a guest! Come inside, eat and drink your fill! It’s all on me!”
At his words, the crowd of hooligans erupted in cheers, and even some of the bystanders who’d been about to leave couldn’t help but give Chen Sheng a thumbs-up.
“What a mistake…”
Witnessing the scene, Jiang Butong couldn’t help but slap his forehead. He’d just found another reason the Chen Family Restaurant was always losing money.
As everyone feasted, Chen Sheng, perhaps out of concern for Jiang Butong’s injury, had Jiang Dazhuang escort him to the hospital.
After the surgery, Jiang Butong was admitted to the surgical ward.
The ward had three beds; before he arrived, a long-haired girl was already occupying the one by the window.
Before long, Jiang Butong saw right through Jiang Dazhuang’s restless, gluttonous nature and sent him back to the restaurant.
No sooner had Jiang Dazhuang left than the girl by the window woke up.
Spotting a new patient, she fixed her gaze on Jiang Butong’s swollen, elevated foot.
Jiang Butong hadn’t planned to talk to her, but after getting a good look at her face, he changed his mind. He deliberately raised his leg and gave a wry smile.
“Don’t stare. I got beaten up and ended up here…”
The girl covered her mouth, her bright eyes lighting up. She sat up and, leaning on her bed, boldly stared at him. “Did you mess with the mob too?”
“…The mob? Wait—why did you say ‘too’?”
Jiang Butong was startled, intrigued.
“Well, how should I put this? See my foot?”
The girl’s star-bright eyes twinkled as she pulled up her blanket, revealing a bandaged foot just like his, and said with pride, “See? I got beat up by the mob too!”
Jiang Butong stared blankly at her pretty face for a long moment, failing to see what was so impressive about that.
“Everyone who runs a stall on our street is afraid of them—except me!”
Perhaps afraid Jiang Butong would misunderstand, the girl emphasized her point.
“Run a stall?”
Jiang Butong’s brow furrowed as he suddenly recalled a famous wholesale market in the city’s future.
“What, you look down on street vendors?”
The girl’s nose wrinkled in indignation. “I’ll have you know, I earned all four years of my university tuition and living expenses from my stall!”
Jiang Butong smiled, suddenly remembering that many future business tycoons started out running street stalls.
He thought for a moment, then put on an air of arrogance. “Did you make more than me? I made ten thousand a day!”
“Ten thousand a day?!”
The girl was stunned, turning to stare at him in disbelief.