Chapter 142: Chen Huajiang Takes Action

Feng Weizhi’s expression darkened; Chen Huajiang’s look of disdain stung him deeply. Having already lost to Chen once before, this encounter was supposed to be his chance to reclaim his pride. His gaze flickered toward the aluminum briefcase on Chen’s lap, filled with envy, jealousy, and pure greed at the sight of the cash within. At the same time, he realized he likely couldn't outmaneuver Chen today. The best he could do was force the man to bleed money; even if Chen kept the storefront, he would have to pay a heavy price for it.

"Twenty-five hundred!" Feng crossed his arms, glared defiantly at Chen, and shouted.

The crowd turned in unison toward Chen Huajiang, expecting a higher bid. Instead, Chen stood up, offered a faint smile, and reached out to his wife, Lin Jiayin, saying, "Let’s go."

As Lin Jiayin took his hand and stood up, the surrounding crowd was left dumbfounded.

"What’s happening? What is this? Is Chen Huajiang giving up?"

"What does this mean? Is he not going to bid? Didn't he say the factory storefront was his for the taking?"

"The richer they are, the stingier they get, I suppose. He’s got at least ten thousand in that aluminum case, yet he’s too afraid to spend it? Can he really not beat Boss Feng?"

A wave of astonishment rippled through the crowd, accompanied by the snide remarks of those who envied Chen’s sudden wealth.

"Stop right there, Chen Huajiang—"

Feng Weizhi panicked. He took a breath and, feigning composure, sneered, "Is that all you’ve got? You’ve really disappointed me, Chen Huajiang."

"I’ll say it right here and now: once I take over that storefront, I’m turning it into a public restroom."

"Hahaha! By then, everyone in Nanming City will know your Kunlun Catering’s first location is nothing but a toilet. Do you think they’ll still have any appetite to eat at your other shops once they think of that?"

Feng laughed aloud, deliberately broadcasting his malicious plan to apply psychological pressure and goad Chen into bidding again. He decided that no matter how high Chen went, he would stop there. Little did he know, his ploy was entirely transparent to Chen, and his own bidding had been part of Chen’s calculations from the very start.

Chen Huajiang glanced at him with contempt, tossed the briefcase to his associate, Er Mao, and said, "Open it. Take the money out."

"Right!" Er Mao nodded and carefully placed the case on a chair to open it. The crowd swarmed forward, craning their necks to see inside.

Er Mao lifted the top layer of banknotes—one or two bills at a time. Each stack had two ten-yuan notes on top, but the rest were merely blank sheets of paper.

"Blank paper? It’s fake! Except for the two ten-yuan notes on top, everything underneath is just blank paper."

"What is going on? Chen Huajiang actually filled the case with paper? Was he just pretending to be rich?"

"I think I get it now. He never had that much money to begin with. It was all a facade, a deliberate act."

The crowd erupted in confusion, their voices rising in shock as they darted glances between Chen and Feng. Feng Weizhi’s face turned leaden; he clenched his fists, trembling with rage. He was no fool; he realized instantly that he had been played. The entire scenario had been a trap set by Chen, who had feigned a "must-win" attitude from the very beginning. Yet, Feng couldn't fathom how Chen dared to risk such a bluff.

"Let’s go." Chen Huajiang held his wife’s hand and walked toward the exit.

"Chen Huajiang, you think I’m bluffing? I’m not! I’m going to turn that shop into a toilet!" Feng roared at Chen’s retreating back, his voice dripping with venom. "And I’ll put up a sign that says 'Formerly Kunlun Catering'!"

The onlookers stared at Feng with a mix of shock and disdain, as if watching a child who, having been outplayed, was now throwing a tantrum and smashing his toys. Chen Huajiang didn't stop, exiting the venue without a backward glance.

"The rest is up to you, Counselor Niu." Outside the Red Flag Factory, Chen spoke with a stern expression, pressing a thick red envelope into the man's hand. "Whatever happens, you must hold them off for at least a month."

Niu Sanshui took the envelope and nodded heavily. "Don't worry, Boss Chen. While we might not be able to change the outcome regarding the lease rights, I can certainly guarantee a month's delay." In this era, lawyers outside the state-run judicial system were essentially glorified petition writers, dealing mostly with petty domestic disputes.

Chen Huajiang left the matter there, instructing Er Mao to have his men spread rumors that "Weimeixian Catering" was facing a capital crunch and planning to abscond. After taking Lin Jiayin home, Chen headed to the Nanming Daily.

Meanwhile, Feng Weizhi clashed with Niu Sanshui.

"Boss Feng, even if you’ve contracted the shop, it remains in Boss Chen’s possession until the handover is complete." Niu pointed to the interior of the shop, which was now packed with debris and old equipment from other outlets. "First, the Red Flag Factory hasn't returned our deposit. Second, the equipment hasn't been moved. According to contract law, the prior agreement takes precedence. Furthermore, if you attempt to forcibly seize the shop, you risk being charged with theft, and you will be held liable for all damages. This equipment is worth several thousand yuan."

Feng Weizhi glared at Niu with icy eyes, guessing this was another of Chen's schemes. "Tell Chen Huajiang I’m giving him one week to clear this place out. After that, if I hear any more nonsense, I’ll smash the place and throw everyone out myself!" Feng turned and left, his face dark with fury.

In the teahouse outside the Nanming Daily, Zhao Xuemin, the deputy editor-in-chief in his early thirties, squinted at the young man before him. He had expected a potential advertiser, but the moment they met, Chen had produced a copy of the Shen City Daily, leaving Zhao utterly confused.

"Boss Chen, we are the Nanming Daily. You bring me a Shen City paper—is this some kind of elaborate joke?" Zhao asked, tapping the newspaper on the table with a skeptical look.