Chapter Twelve: Poverty Restricts Imagination

Those words left Yang Meng stumped—how much should he ask from them? How could he possibly know? He glanced at the people on the floor, counting six in total including Feng Tao, and after thinking it over, said, “How about this: the five of them get ten thousand each, and as for the one living off a woman, he’s not short of money—fifty thousand! That makes a total of a hundred thousand!”

Duan Bowen was taken aback. “A hundred thousand?”

Yang Meng nodded, but seeing the look on Duan Bowen’s face, he started to feel uneasy. Had he asked for too much? If they thought it was too steep, they could always negotiate, couldn’t they?

He was just about to say something when Duan Bowen, afraid Yang Meng might reconsider, spoke up at once: “Mr. Yang, if that’s the case, I can make the decision right now. What’s your bank account number? I’ll transfer the money immediately!”

Yang Meng felt awkward in an instant. Damn, it turned out he hadn’t asked for too much, but too little!

Damn it, in the end, poverty really does limit one’s imagination! He thought a hundred thousand was a huge sum, but to people like them, it was no more than what Long Nanyao might spend on a bag or a pair of shoes.

He regretted it now—if only he’d asked for more! But it was too late for regrets. A man’s word is his bond.

“Mr. Yang, about that video…” Secretary Duan pressed his advantage.

Yang Meng shook his head. “I don’t trust you. I’ll hold on to the video. As long as you don’t make trouble for me, the video won’t see the light of day—uh, unless I lose my phone. That wouldn’t be my fault.”

Duan Bowen quickly replied, “Mr. Yang, isn’t that against the rules?”

Yang Meng shot him a look. “What rules? You mean the hundred thousand? That’s my fee for services rendered! It has nothing to do with the video, all right?”

“Then how much for the video?” Duan Bowen asked hastily.

Yang Meng smiled faintly. “The video’s not for sale—not right now. I finally see you so-called big shots for what you are: people who specialize in dirty dealings.”

Long Nanyao, who’d been holding back for a long time, finally burst out, “What did you say?”

Yang Meng pointed at the miserable people on the floor. “Look at them—am I wrong? If this isn’t dirty, what is? Of course, I’ve got to thank you for your shady business too, or I wouldn’t have earned this hundred thousand, right? Then again, if you think this is unfair, I can just upload the video now. That would save us all a lot of trouble, wouldn’t it?”

Long Nanyao took a deep breath. Damn it, how had things circled back here again?

Duan Bowen gave a slight smile. “Mr. Yang, you’re right. I was too hasty. The hundred thousand is your fee, it has nothing to do with the video. But I hope you’ll keep your word and not let the video get out.”

Long Nanyao’s eyes widened. “Secretary Duan—”

But Duan Bowen waved her off and continued, “Mr. Yang, a man is nothing without integrity. I believe you won’t leak the video. After all, none of us lives in this world alone; we all have friends and family to think of, don’t we?”

Yang Meng frowned. “Are you threatening me?”

Duan Bowen quickly shook his head. “No, no, not at all, Mr. Yang. I trust you’re an honorable man, but isn’t this how business works? First, we take precautions, then we show trust. That video in your hands is simply too important to us. We have to prepare for the worst and hope for the best.”

Yang Meng nodded. “That makes sense. All right, I’ll say this: if you don’t trouble me, I won’t trouble you.”

“Of course!” Duan Bowen nodded. “But let me be clear: that video is a potential threat to our group, so others may come looking for it. I hope you’ll be prepared.”

“OK.” Yang Meng couldn’t be bothered to say more. “You’re clearly not an ordinary secretary. You look young, but you’re far more capable than these two fools. You play by the rules, so will I. But let me warn you—if I find out you’re meddling where you shouldn’t, believe me, a barefoot man has nothing to fear from one in shoes. Let’s see who outlasts whom.”

Duan Bowen smiled. “Of course, of course. Would you mind giving me your account number?”

Yang Meng took his salary card from his pocket and handed it over. Duan Bowen was efficient; within moments, Yang Meng’s phone pinged with a deposit notification for a hundred thousand.

Yang Meng waved the card. “By the way, if you send more of these good-for-nothing types after me in the future, bring more money. This was a special price—next time, it won’t be so cheap!” Then he turned to his colleagues. “Brothers, I’ve been fired. We won’t be in the same trench anymore. I’ll treat you to dinner sometime! I’m off!”

Old Liu and the others were stunned. Was this the same easygoing Yang Meng they’d always known? After working together so long, it felt like they were meeting him for the first time. After a moment, Old Liu nodded first. “All right… Xiao Yang, you should… take it easy. You don’t want to end up on the losing end.”

With Feng Tao and the others there, he didn’t dare say too much, but he’d made his point.

Was Long Group the sort to give in so easily? Yang Meng might have them by the tail now, but they would surely be back to settle the score.

Yang Meng knew Old Liu meant well. He nodded. “Liu, I know what I’m doing. Don’t worry about me. No one is born nobler than anyone else! People like that—stick a feather duster in their back and they think they’re a big shot! All right, guys, I’m off! Oh, and Secretary Duan, don’t say I didn’t warn you—your lady really has a ghost clinging to her. That’s all I’ll say; whether you believe it or not is up to you.”

With that, he waved, not waiting for a reply, and took the elevator down.

Watching him leave, Long Nanyao quickly said, “Secretary Duan, call the hospital at once and get Feng Tao checked out!”

But Duan Bowen pulled out his phone and stepped aside to make a call. “Chairman, I have something to report that just happened…”

Feng Tao and Long Nanyao both turned pale—this was it, Duan Bowen was tattling to her father!

Long Nanyao’s face twisted with resentment as she watched Yang Meng’s retreating figure. Her father had never been satisfied with Feng Tao; otherwise, he wouldn’t have assigned him such a low position under the pretense of “training.” If her father found out what happened today, he’d be even more opposed to her and Feng Tao being together.

All because of that wretched boy! No, this isn’t over!

Yang Meng, for his part, didn’t care what schemes they might be plotting. He had more important business at hand—heh, what does a man do with money? Find a woman, of course!

Not that he was headed for any shady establishment—he wasn’t that kind of person. He had a girlfriend, after all.

Ahem, and anyway, certain things wouldn’t pass the censors…

His girlfriend’s name was Wang Xinuan, a proper university student in her third year. Her family had always looked down on him for delivering food. Now that he had money, it was the perfect time to find a new job.

But before that, he had something else to take care of.

She’d wanted a new bag, hadn’t she? He’d buy it!

He’d wanted one for her when he was broke but couldn’t manage it; now, with money in hand, he could be generous!

A hundred thousand—he’d wire fifty thousand home, buy a bag for his girlfriend, and keep the rest for living expenses. Done!

What is money? Just a damned thing—if it’s gone, I’ll earn more!

To the wealthy, a hundred thousand is nothing, but right now Yang Meng was acting like a newly rich man. That’s just how it is—sudden wealth makes fools of us all!

He’d always laughed at the tastelessness of the nouveau riche, but now that he had money, he was acting just the same. That’s what it means to have wealth that exceeds one’s character.

He wondered what Wang Xinuan was doing. He’d tried calling several times, but she didn’t answer.

Wait, what brand was the bag she wanted? Prada, right? While the stores were still open, he’d go buy one for her—make it a surprise.

Thinking thus, Yang Meng hailed a cab to the CBD, where Prada had a boutique.

“Prada, Prada…” Standing in the CBD lobby, he searched the directory for Prada’s store. As he was looking, he heard a familiar voice nearby: “Hurry up! It’s just upstairs!”

Hmm? Yang Meng frowned at the sound and turned toward the voice.

Not far ahead, a young woman was walking arm-in-arm with a man toward the escalator. When he saw her face, Yang Meng froze. Wasn’t that Wang Xinuan? Who was the man beside her? Judging by his age, he looked like her father.

So that was his future father-in-law? No wonder Wang Xinuan hadn’t answered his calls—she was out shopping with her dad.

Yang Meng, full of curiosity, decided to follow them quietly and give Wang Xinuan a surprise.

He watched as the two rode the escalator upstairs, heading straight for the Prada boutique he’d been searching for. Before long, he saw Wang Xinuan emerge with a brand-new Prada shoulder bag, her arm still linked with the man’s.

But seeing this, Yang Meng suddenly felt something was off. Wang Xinuan’s family wasn’t well-off. She’d always said she worked part-time to pay her tuition. Why would her father buy her a Prada bag?

He’d originally planned to surprise her when she came out, but now he hesitated. Instead, he kept following to see where they would go next.

But the two didn’t leave the CBD. Instead, they took the escalator up again, and when they reached their destination, Yang Meng was dumbfounded—they entered a hotel on the upper floors of the CBD.

Watching them go in, Yang Meng’s scalp tingled with shock. No matter how close a father and daughter are, they wouldn’t go into a hotel like that… would they?