098 Unexpected Windfall

In an urban village, inside a rented room barely more than a dozen square meters wide.

A man in a blue T-shirt sat on the bed and dumped the contents of the backpack beside him onto the sheets: two iPhones, a necklace, a pair of earrings, and a little over a thousand yuan in cash.

Glancing at his own phone, the man in the blue T-shirt said enviously, “Damn, this girl’s got money. She even bought two iPhones.”

Ring-ring-ring...

His phone rang. He looked at the screen and, squinting with a smile, said, “Well, well. The rich boy’s calling.”

“Hello.”

“Hello, Young Master Luo.”

The man on the other end of the line was Luo Xinghua.

“Xiazi, did you get the stuff?”

“Don’t worry, Young Master Luo. I handle things right. Both phones are here,” Xiazi said with a grin.

“The money’s ready. I’ll drive over tonight. Cash for goods, hand to hand,” Luo Xinghua said.

“Mr. Luo, how much did you prepare?”

“Fifty thousand.”

Xiazi smacked his lips. “Tsk, tsk. Isn’t that a little low?”

“That was the price we agreed on in the first place.”

“I didn’t know the market back then. I asked around today, and this kind of job usually starts at a hundred thousand.”

“You think I’m some easy mark?” Luo Xinghua snapped.

“Don’t get worked up. That’s not what I meant. I’m just a little short on cash right now. Think of it as helping me out,” Xiazi said ingratiatingly.

Luo Xinghua hesitated for a moment. “How much do you want?”

“Five hundred thousand.”

“Five hundred thousand?” Luo Xinghua laughed coldly. “That’s enough for me to find someone to cripple you. Believe it or not?”

“I believe it. Young Master Luo, you’re magnanimous. Don’t bother lowering yourself to the likes of me. Fifty thousand is nothing to you—just a little pocket change to shoo away a beggar,” Xiazi said.

“Ten thousand, at most.”

“Forty thousand, at least.”

“Twenty thousand.”

“Thirty thousand. If you’re short even a single cent, I’ll hand this stuff over to the police,” Xiazi threatened.

“Are you out of your mind? You were the one who stole it. If the police really trace it back to me, do you think you’ll get away clean?” Luo Xinghua barked.

“My life’s worth nothing, and it’s not my first time inside. But you, Young Master Luo, are all soft flesh and delicate skin. I wonder if you can even adapt in there. And since I’m the one turning myself in, I’ll definitely be out before you,” Xiazi said with a laugh.

“Is there any point in this?”

“Some people are born jealous. I’m one of them. Just thinking about you having it worse than me makes me happy.”

“Damn you...” Luo Xinghua exploded into curses.

“Heh heh.” Xiazi chuckled, unconcerned. “You’ve said your piece. One sentence: are you paying or not?”

“I’ll pay. But remember this—if you go back on your word, I’ll immediately spend a million to have someone take you out,” Luo Xinghua threatened.

“I’m just a rotten fish. Not worth getting your hands dirty over. Keep that million for yourself. I know my place—I won’t look at what I shouldn’t and I won’t ask for what I shouldn’t,” Xiazi said.

“Remember what you said,” Luo Xinghua said, and hung up.

Whoosh...

Xiazi let out a long breath, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and spat, “Damn it. I’m out here hustling for a living—what the hell am I scared of some rich kid for?”

With that thought, he relaxed. He couldn’t help but hum a tune: “I’ve made money, made money, and I don’t even know how to spend it. Buy a Nokia with my left hand, a Motorola with my right... Tch, screw that. I’m buying iPhones, buying Samsungs.”

He gathered up his things, hid the two iPhones away, and humming cheerfully, left the rented room. “I’ve made money, made money, and today I’m eating something nice...”

Xiazi wandered over to a nearby seafood restaurant called One-Pot Fresh. It was the most upscale place around, and in the past he would never have been able to afford it.

A female server came over with a small notebook. “What would you like?”

Xiazi glanced at her and gave her a once-over. “Bring me one One-Pot Fresh.”

“Sir, how many people are dining?”

“Just me.”

“Sir, One-Pot Fresh has ten kinds of seafood. I’m afraid one person may not be able to finish it,” the server reminded him kindly.

“I’m here for the mood, not the quantity. Don’t worry about it. Serve it,” Xiazi said with a wave of his hand. It was only money—he had some.

Restaurants existed to make money. As long as the customer was willing to spend, the server wouldn’t argue a second time.

“Anything else you’d like?”

“Do you have Wuliangye?”

“Yes.”

“Moutai?”

“Yes.”

“Qindao Eight Degrees?”

“Yes.”

“One bottle of each. Open them all.”

“Please wait a moment. They’ll be here right away.”

As soon as the server left, Xiazi slapped his forehead. “Look at my memory. I forgot to order a bottle of Bordeaux.”

“It’s best not to mix liquors. Easy to get drunk that way,” said a man in his twenties as he walked over.

“If you don’t mix them, how are you supposed to tell which bottle’s better?” Xiazi snorted.

“Young man, listen to some advice and eat your fill. When you’re eating seafood, don’t drink too much beer,” said another man in his thirties.

“And who the hell are you?” Xiazi shot back. “Truth be told, just because Moutai and Wuliangye are expensive doesn’t mean I’ll necessarily like them. What if I only like beer?”

As he spoke, he stood up and fished a pack of cigarettes from his body. “Damn it, I’m going outside for a smoke. I’ll come back when the dishes arrive.”

Another man appeared behind him. He was not tall, but looked sharp and capable. He pressed a hand to Xiazi’s shoulder and pushed him back into his seat.

“Sit still and behave. Don’t go looking for trouble.”

Xiazi handed out cigarettes to the others. “Brothers, I really am just going out for a smoke.”

The men surrounding him were Han Bin, Zeng Ping, Zhao Ming, Li Hui, and the others.

Snap!

Li Hui waved a hand and gave him a smack on the head. “You’re pretty quick on the uptake, huh? Already trying to run.”

“Big brothers, what’s this about? I haven’t offended any of you,” Xiazi said with a fawning grin.

He was boxed in by four men and had nowhere to run.

“Do you know Luo Xinghua?” Zhao Ming asked.

Xiazi hesitated, then shook his head. “No.”

Snap!

Li Hui struck him on the head again. “Stop pretending. Brother Luo sent us.”

“Really? It was Young Master Luo who sent you?”

Zeng Ping took a drag on his cigarette. “Kid, don’t refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit. Either hand over the phones, or we’ll cripple you.”

“And the money? Where’s the money he promised me?” Xiazi asked.

Han Bin took out a travel bag. “The money’s here. Where’s the stuff?”

“How much is there?”

“The bag was given by Luo Xinghua. We don’t know how the two of you negotiated. We just take the money and do the job,” Han Bin said, placing the travel bag on the table.

“How did Young Master Luo know I’d be here?”

“If he didn’t know where you lived, how could he have found you for this job?” Han Bin replied.

“Still, Young Master Luo is impressive. Truly impressive,” Xiazi said, all smiles and flattery.

“Cut the crap. Take the stuff out,” Li Hui snapped.

Xiazi instinctively shrank his neck. “I’ll take you to get it. Both phones are hidden at my place.”

Both?

Han Bin and Zeng Ping exchanged a glance. It seemed they had landed an unexpected bonus.