After my divorce at thirty, I developed an intelligence network.

"That makes sense." Yang Ruyan nodded, not pressing the issue, and took out her phone.

"I'll send you the project address and information. Go take a look first. If you think it's suitable and you can do the work, we can talk more. There's no problem with the work."

The matter was resolved in just a few minutes.

Yang Ruyan smiled again: "Brother Gong, feel free to contact me anytime if you need anything." Then she gracefully went downstairs.

Only after the footsteps disappeared did Jiang Yan slowly put down her teacup, look at Gong Yuelong, and smile:

"Not bad, Boss Gong. You've quietly made your way here."

Gong Yuelong looked at the project address on his phone and shook his head: "This is the first time I've encountered something like this. There are even people offering work to their door."

"It's a 3,000-square-meter factory, right here in our high-tech zone."

Jiang Yan said, "Oh. The factory project... This girl is quite something. I vaguely remember this project. I heard someone mention it before, saying... a certain leader in the city is quite interested in it."

She paused for a moment, then said, "That leader, putting aside his other hobbies, has quite a reputation for caring for young female comrades."

She looked up and said, "Yang Ruyan is a college graduate who hasn't been out of school for long. She can sit here calmly and hold this kind of project information... Just think about it."

The meaning was conveyed even though the words were not finished.

She's being kept by a sugar daddy?!

It's been booked by someone else.

It was all taken care of by someone with power and influence!

When the word popped into Gong Yuelong's mind, he wasn't surprised; he just thought, "So that's how it is."

No wonder she looks a bit plumper; life has gotten better, and she no longer has to get up early and work late for that hard-earned meal.

The student-like sparkle in his eyes was gone, replaced by a somewhat stiff composure, as if he had learned it from a model.

What do you mean by opening your own restaurant? That's bullshit.

It's likely that they're being used as a favor to someone, and then placed here as an informant, or perhaps they're just a front man doing things for money.

He didn't look down on anyone. In this world, everyone has their own way of living, and everyone has their own price.

Just thinking about that spoonful of hot wontons brings back a feeling that's hard to describe.

He picked up the now-cold tea, took a big gulp, and suppressed that useless thought.

Gong Yuelong spoke up, "Let's try it out first. As for the rest... we'll talk about it later."

Jiang Yan looked at him for a few seconds, smiled, and reminded him, "It's good that you understand. The water is murky, so step on the stones to cross the river and stand firm. Don't get your shoes wet before you finish your work."

"I understand." Gong Yuelong nodded.

Jiang Yan still seemed uneasy. She walked to the side and made a phone call.

A few minutes later she returned, sat down, and said directly:

"I asked. The project is real."

She paused.

"But in the High-tech Zone, there's a guy surnamed Wu who monopolizes the construction sites there. He has people working for him and he's a sand and gravel tycoon. If you're working in that area, you have to go through his channels for building materials, and the prices are higher."

She looked at Gong Yuelong:

"If your project were there, you'd have to give up this profit. Ten percent commission, plus this, and there won't be much left."

After listening, Gong Yuelong remained silent. He took a sip of herbal tea.

Sand and gravel tycoon. Territory fee.

"The profit margin is thin, but if the work goes smoothly and the funds come in and out quickly, it's fine." He put down his cup. "Does this person just want money? Will he interfere with the project?"

"He's mainly after money," Jiang Yan said. "But if you're too soft, he might become hard. There's no end to this kind of person."

She leaned back:

"So this project has potential, but it's not lucrative. Think it through."

Gong Yuelong remained silent for a moment.

"Let's look at the specific conditions first. As for that person..." He paused, "If we're really going to do it, we have to pay the necessary visits. As long as he doesn't cross the line, it'll just mean higher costs."

Jiang Yan nodded and said no more. She looked downstairs:

"The food here isn't great, but the information they provide is accurate."

After parting ways with Jiang Yan at the entrance of Juxian Pavilion, Gong Yuelong did not go directly back to the courtyard.

With a turn of the steering wheel, the car headed towards the High-tech Zone.

The industrial park looks completely different at night compared to during the day.

Only a few factory areas were brightly lit; the vast majority consisted of the outlines of completed or unfinished buildings, lying silently in the darkness, with only a few scattered temporary lights flickering like will-o'-the-wisps.

The road was newly built and wide, but it was so empty it was a little eerie.

He quickly found the land using the address sent by Yang Ruyan.

The wall has been erected, the gate is tightly closed, and it is dark inside.

He parked his car across the street, didn't get out, rolled down the window, lit a cigarette, and quietly observed.

The area looks quite large; three thousand square meters is probably accurate.

After finishing his cigarette, he was about to start his car and leave when he caught a glimpse of a figure emerging from the shadows of the construction site fence.

The man was short, wearing a jacket of an indistinguishable color. He sauntered to the construction site gate, but instead of going in, he leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette.

The stars flickered in the darkness, illuminating a young face that carried a lazy, menacing air.

He was smoking, but his eyes were glancing at Gong Yuelong's car.

Gong Yuelong didn't move, but looked at the man from a distance.

The man took a drag of his cigarette, spat on the ground, and suddenly spoke:

"Watching the work?"

Gong Yuelong did not respond.

The man didn't seem to care and continued, "Working in this area isn't easy."

He flicked his cigarette ash, implying, "Especially the ingredients; they need to be carefully selected. Using them haphazardly can easily cause trouble."

The words were vague, but the meaning was clear.

These are the people Jiang Yan was talking about, the men under the control of that sand and gravel tyrant.

They might just be a minor figure keeping watch, but they represent a kind of ubiquitous rule.

Gong Yuelong remained silent and started the car.

The car slowly turned around and drove away.

It seems that having the client's contract and Yang Ruyan's introduction is not enough to start construction on this land.

We need to first determine who's in charge on this land.

……

Inside the house in the courtyard where characters are split up.

Gong Yuelong took off his coat, leaving him only wearing a faded tank top.

The room was cramped, so he pushed the old table against the wall, clearing out a space about three or four square steps away.

No sandbags, no equipment, just facing the air.

He assumed a fighting stance, with his feet apart, knees slightly bent, and fists guarding his chin.

The movements weren't perfect, but they carried the steady, grounded quality typical of someone who does manual labor. Breathing slowed, eyes fixed on the empty space ahead.

Start with a straight punch. Left thrust, right straight punch. The fist cuts through the air with a short, sharp whooshing sound.

It's not fast, but each movement involves shifting the shoulders and rotating the hips, pressing the weight of the body into the movement.

He recalled getting into a conflict with someone on a construction site in his early years. He was throwing wild punches, which looked fierce, but his own hands hurt when he hit the other person.

Later, an old cop who had been incarcerated said a few words:

"A fist isn't thrown out with the arm; it's propelled by the waist and pushed off with the feet, pulled up from the ground, and then smashed out."

He practiced pulling and smashing repeatedly.

Left, right, left.

The vest was quickly soaked with sweat, clinging to the angular muscles.

After practicing for about a hundred times, my shoulders started to ache, and the trajectory of my punches became a bit unsteady.

He stopped, shook his arms, and took a deep breath.

But then the image of that lazy yet scrutinizing face beneath the wall of the High-Tech Zone flashed through my mind, along with that man's vague warning: "Use quality materials carefully. Using them haphazardly will easily cause trouble."

trouble.