Chapter Sixteen: Silence Is Golden

"Mr. Yang, we meet again!" Yang Meng was crouching before a motorcycle, inspecting it closely, when a voice greeted him from behind.

He looked up. "Hm? Secretary Duan, what brings you here?"

It was Duan Bowen, whom he'd met just yesterday.

Duan Bowen smiled. "I came specifically to pay you a visit, Mr. Yang."

Yang Meng stood up, pulled out a cigarette and offered it to Duan Bowen, who waved his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Yang, but I don't smoke."

Seeing this, Yang Meng didn't insist. He lit one for himself and said, "How did you know I'd be here? I'd never believe this was a coincidence. Frankly, this isn't the kind of place people like you frequent."

Duan Bowen chuckled. "Mr. Yang, knowing your whereabouts isn't difficult at all."

Yang Meng's brow furrowed. "What, Secretary Duan, did you come here just to show off the power of the wealthy?"

Duan Bowen hurriedly waved his hands. "Of course not, Mr. Yang. I actually have your number, but I thought it would be better to visit you in person. That's why I came early this morning. It's to show my sincerity, not to boast."

Yang Meng laughed. "Secretary Duan, you really do know how to talk. Alright, tell me what you want. Are you here to buy back that video?"

"Hm?" This time, Duan Bowen was the one taken aback. "What do you mean? Mr. Yang, didn't you say yesterday you wouldn't sell the video?"

Yang Meng smiled. "But last night I had an epiphany. When you're poor, your ambitions shrink. If the price is right, what can't be sold? But it seems that's not why you've come."

Duan Bowen forced a smile. "If only I'd known it could be solved by buying it back, I'd have discussed the price with you immediately. But... Mr. Yang, the truth is, our Young Master Long has learned of the video, and he's taken over the matter. He said he wants to meet you."

"Are you kidding?" Yang Meng looked scornful. "Secretary Duan, he's your young master, not mine. If he wants to see me, he should come in person! What does he mean by having me go to him? Has he lost his mind?"

Duan Bowen replied, "Mr. Yang, of course you won’t have to go for nothing. I’ll pay you an appearance fee!"

He was in a bind himself. Last night, Young Master Long, Long Teng, had suddenly called and ordered him to bring Yang Meng to him today. This left Duan Bowen in a difficult position. Young Master Long had made his decision with barely a word, without caring how Duan Bowen would accomplish it. To put it kindly, it was a sign of trust in his abilities; unkindly, it was inconsiderate.

Given his relationship with Young Master Long, it was undoubtedly the former.

But it still left Duan Bowen with a thorny problem. How was he supposed to bring Yang Meng to Long Teng? Kidnap him with a group of men? Come on, Yang Meng’s fighting prowess wasn’t to be underestimated!

He’d spent half the night considering solutions but could only come up with the ‘appearance fee’ excuse.

Yang Meng snorted. "You rich people really think money can solve everything, don’t you?"

Duan Bowen could only force a smile—he wasn’t surprised in the slightest by Yang Meng’s response. He didn’t believe someone like Yang Meng could be bought so easily, but aside from money, he had no other strategy.

"Mr. Yang, I know offering money is an insult to you..." Duan Bowen began hastily, but Yang Meng interrupted him. "How much is the appearance fee?"

"Ah?" Duan Bowen was stunned.

Yang Meng said as if it were a matter of course, "What’s with the surprise? I absolutely don’t mind being insulted with money. Go on, what do you think is a fair appearance fee?"

Duan Bowen’s face lit up, and he blurted out, "Mr. Yang, what amount do you think is fair?"

Yang Meng was about to speak but then recalled what happened yesterday when he’d been too hasty with his price. Today, he was more cautious. "Secretary Duan, what do you think is fair?"

Duan Bowen hesitated, thinking back to yesterday. Such an important matter had been solved for just a hundred thousand—clearly, Yang Meng didn’t care much about money. So why did he agree to an appearance fee now?

Hmm, perhaps money wasn’t the point—Yang Meng just wanted to see what Long Teng intended to do, and the fee was a mere pretext.

With this thought, Duan Bowen ventured, "Well, Mr. Yang, how about five thousand?"

Five thousand to simply make an appearance? The moment Yang Meng heard the figure, he nearly nodded his agreement, but he restrained himself. He neither nodded nor shook his head, merely looked coldly at Duan Bowen.

Sensing trouble, Duan Bowen hurried to add, "Mr. Yang, I know it’s not much, but I swear on my honor, I’m paying this out of my own pocket. I’m just an employee... Alright, alright, what about ten thousand? Is that acceptable?"

Yang Meng was inwardly delighted—he was a genius! Say nothing, and the price doubles! Clearly, you can't deal with the wealthy using old habits and common sense.

Wait, what if I stay silent a bit longer?

He continued to stare coldly at Duan Bowen.

Duan Bowen looked at Yang Meng, pleading, "Mr. Yang, please don’t make it hard for me. I really am just a wage earner."

Yang Meng sneered. "Secretary Duan, do you think I care? I believe you’re just an employee, but do you expect me to believe you’re an ordinary secretary? Don’t insult my intelligence. Are you trying to play games with me? If you have sincerity, show it, don’t play tricks. Now, don’t waste my time while I pick out a bike."

Seeing Yang Meng ignore him, Duan Bowen quickly said, "Please, Mr. Yang, we can still negotiate. I’ll add more money, alright? Twenty thousand? ...Thirty thousand? Fine, fifty thousand! Mr. Yang, all you have to do is show up and you’ll get fifty thousand—are you still not satisfied?"

Yang Meng stood and looked at Duan Bowen. "Alright, fifty thousand it is."

That was a tidy sum. Fifty thousand just to make an appearance—he was almost as well-paid as a minor celebrity. ‘Silence is golden,’ indeed. By staying quiet, he’d turned five thousand into fifty thousand—that’s what you call ‘gold.’

Duan Bowen beamed. "Then shall we set off now, Mr. Yang?"

Yang Meng shook his head. "Can’t you see I’m picking out a motorcycle? That so-called Young Master Long wants to see me, not the other way around. If he wants to meet me, he’ll wait until I’m done with my affairs."

Duan Bowen quickly replied, "Mr. Yang, is it that the money still isn’t enough? I can give you more."

As soon as he said it, he realized it was a mistake. Sure enough, Yang Meng froze, instantly realizing—damn, I could have gotten even more!

He’d thought fifty thousand was a lot and was quite pleased with himself, but upon hearing Duan Bowen’s words, he realized that even fifty thousand was chump change to him.

Clearly, when dealing with the wealthy, the first rule was to ask for the moon.

Now Yang Meng was a bit embarrassed and annoyed. "Hmph! Money can’t solve everything! Let him wait—I’ll go when I feel like it!"

Duan Bowen was at a loss for words. Just a moment ago you said, ‘as long as the price is right, there’s nothing that can’t be sold,’ and now you’re saying, ‘money can’t solve everything.’ Whatever you say always makes sense.

"Mr. Yang..." he started, but Yang Meng cut him off. "If you keep talking, I won’t go at all!"

Duan Bowen immediately gestured deferentially. "Please, Mr. Yang, take your time choosing. I wish you find the bike you desire. I’ll wait here with you."

As the saying goes, ‘A wise man adapts to circumstances,’ right?

Yang Meng ignored him and squatted down again, focusing on the motorcycle before him. Duan Bowen was anxious but could do nothing—after all, he was a secretary and knew how to deal with people.

If you want to quickly get close to a stranger, the best way is through shared interests.

"Mr. Yang, you seem to really know motorcycles," Duan Bowen said.

Yang Meng nodded. "Of course. I’ve been riding motorcycles through the mountains since I was ten."

Duan Bowen asked curiously, "As far as I know, back then the bikes you rode were probably shift-back models, right? Most motorcycles now are international shift—can you get used to that?"

Yang Meng looked at him in surprise. "Oh? You know about that?" There are two types of motorcycle gearboxes: one is called shift-back, the other international shift, and the shifting method is completely different.

In the past, domestic motorcycles were all small-displacement, slow and designed for reliability and convenience, so most used shift-back. But shift-back has a flaw—novices easily mis-shift. Imagine, if you’re speeding and accidentally kick into neutral or first, it’s easy to have an accident.

International shift was designed for racing: first gear is down, the rest are up, and you can’t accidentally skip gears, making it much safer. Most modern motorcycles use international shift for safety, but over ten years ago, almost all domestic bikes were shift-back.

Duan Bowen smiled. "I actually wanted to learn to ride a motorcycle, but maybe I lack coordination—or maybe I’m just afraid of falling—so I never managed it. But I do have a ‘Ghostfire’—just a twist of the throttle and it takes off. Sometimes, when work is stressful, I ride out for a spin."

"Ghostfire?" Yang Meng nodded. "Nice choice. I just saw two over there—the green and the purple one, both Ghostfire models!"

"You like ‘Ghostfire’ too?" Duan Bowen quickly said. "Why not buy one yourself?"

He thought it was simple: the sooner Yang Meng bought a bike, the sooner he’d go see Long Teng.

But Yang Meng shook his head. "First, I want a big-displacement machine. Second... heh, those are all knock-offs. I’m not a ‘Ghostfire kid’ like you, why would I buy one of those?"

"Ghostfire kid?" Duan Bowen was puzzled—when did he ever get such a nickname?