Governing the country, enriching the people, an unparalleled imperial tutor

Half an hour later, the doorbell rang again. This time it was slammed shut with a fist, carrying a brutal and undisguised arrogance.

When Lin Yanzhou went to open the door, there were seven or eight people standing outside. Qin Li stood at the front, a cold smile playing on her lips. Behind her stood Qin Hao, his bald head gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Next to Qin Hao stood a burly man, about forty years old, with a buzz cut and a ring of dark gray tattoos around his neck. His black leather jacket was open, revealing a tight black T-shirt underneath. He had an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth, and when his gaze swept over Lin Yanzhou's face, it was like a dull knife scraping against a stone.

Qin Hao took half a step forward: "Lin Yanzhou, this is my elder brother Xu Biao. Ask around in Nancheng, see how influential Xu Biao's name is. If you don't explain the nine million matter clearly today, my elder brother won't be as easy to talk to as I am."

Xu Biao took the cigarette out of his mouth and held it between his fingers, his voice unhurried: "I heard you refused to give it to me? Well, I'm here today to 'discuss' this with you on behalf of my brother." He paused, "Regardless of what evidence you have, in this area of ​​Nancheng, I, Xu Biao, call the shots."

After he finished speaking, he waved his hand behind him. Two young men in black jackets squeezed in from behind. One of them pushed Lin Yanzhou aside and squeezed into the living room, raising the old steel pipe in his hand and swinging it down on the coffee table. The sound of the glass tabletop shattering was loud, and shards flew all over the floor. The second man followed him in and kicked the TV cabinet—the cabinet door was deformed, the hinges came off, and it leaned against the corner. Then the glass sliding door to the kitchen was smashed by the steel pipe, and the shards scattered all over the floor with a crash.

Xu Biao stood at the door, listening to the commotion inside, his tone carrying a sense of "this is what happens when you disobey": "Smash it enough, don't demolish the house, leave some room for maneuver."

Lin Yanzhou remained motionless. He stood by the entryway, leaning against the edge of the shoe cabinet, quietly watching the group smash things. Once the commotion subsided, he glanced down at his phone screen—an open chat window displayed a WeChat message he'd sent to Hu Dahai the previous night. He hadn't typed anything, only sent a location. Hu Dahai hadn't replied, but the address had been received.

"Aren't you afraid?" Xu Biao spat out his cigarette and stomped on it.

"What are you afraid of?" Lin Yanzhou said, "You'll have to pay a hefty price after you smash it up."

Xu Biao laughed, a rough and grating laugh: "Pay? I, Xu Biao, have been around in Nancheng for over a decade. I've smashed countless things. Ask around, who have I ever paid for?" He took two steps forward, the hem of his black leather jacket brushing against the doorframe, revealing an old knife scar running from his collarbone to his abdomen beneath his black T-shirt. "You think your little antique shop owner can protect you?"

When he said "small antique shop owner," his tone carried a clear contempt, as if he were talking about some insignificant nobody. The two thugs behind him, smashing things, laughed along. One of them chimed in, "Brother Biao, why are you telling him all this? Let him find out who you are himself. It's just a secondhand shop—"

"Shut up." Xu Biao turned and glared at him, but there was no real anger in his eyes; it was more like a smug satisfaction at being tickled. The henchmen beside him immediately fell silent. Xu Biao turned back, his voice a little louder than before, "Let me tell you the truth, in this area of ​​Nancheng, I, Xu Biao, have only ever recognized one person—that's the real boss, much more influential than any antique dealer. Your boss is only fit to carry my shoes."

After he finished speaking, he stood with his hands on his hips. His thick gold chain swayed under the fluorescent lights for a moment before settling back down, as if the weight of his words was enough to command the entire room.

Lin Yanzhou remained silent.

Xu Biao watched this scene without saying a word. After Qin Hao retreated, he looked at Lin Yanzhou again, his voice carrying a deliberately suppressed coldness: "Have you made enough of a scene? Now it's time to get down to business. If you don't explain the nine million today, I, Xu Biao, am telling you—this isn't over." Xu Biao was working so hard today because the Qin family promised him half the reward no matter how much they got back.

After he finished speaking, he reached behind him, and his henchman immediately handed him an iron pipe. Xu Biao took it, patted it in his palm, and the dull, grating sound of metal clashing was like a silent threat.

"Do you know Hu Dahai?" Lin Yanzhou asked. His voice was neither loud nor soft, as if he had just casually mentioned a name.

Xu Biao paused for a moment, then burst into laughter, louder than before: "Hu Dahai? Hahahaha—you really dare to mention him!"

He brandished the iron pipe in his hand, his voice suddenly rising: "Let me tell you, Hu Dahai is my elder brother's elder brother! Do you know who he is? In this part of Nancheng, there are people who don't know me, Xu Biao, but everyone knows Hu Dahai! I've followed him for three years, run errands for him, done things for him, and even shielded him from drinking. He personally told me—'Xu Biao, you're a good kid, you'll be working for me from now on!'"

He got more and more excited as he spoke, his thick gold chain swaying wildly with agitation, and his voice grew louder and louder: "Who does your antique shop owner think he is? If you really know Hu Dahai, then have him come over today! Have him come and back you up! If you can't get him to come, then don't act like a big shot here—"

"He's on his way. He should be here in a few minutes," Lin Yanzhou said.

Xu Biao's laughter abruptly stopped. His mouth was still open, as if the last word "Master" was still hanging in his throat. He stared at Lin Yanzhou, as if judging the truth of the words, then he turned his head to look at the end of the corridor, but there was nothing there.

"You fucking—" Xu Biao raised the iron pipe again, angrily saying, "Are you trying to scare me? Are you going to call the police? Go ahead and make one, let me see—"

Lin Yanzhou picked up the spare phone from the shoe cabinet, turned on the screen, and dialed a number. Xu Biao suddenly reached out and swept the phone out of his hand; the phone fell to the ground, and the screen shattered.

"What are you pretending for?" Xu Biao's voice was already tinged with rage, the iron pipe trembling slightly in his hand. "You fucking try hitting me again? I'll show you what it means to—"

Before the words were even finished, a car braked downstairs. Then came a second, a third, followed by a continuous, rhythmic series of car door clicks. The sounds were very rhythmic.

Although it was on the 16th floor, the orderly rhythm could still be heard clearly. After a while, the motion-activated lights in the stairwell were turned on by the continuous footsteps, lighting up into a string of lights starting from the corner.