66. Mr. Qian’s Distinguished Guest

“If you want to extort me, just say so. Don’t bother with excuses. To be honest, I don’t want to give you any money. Are you going to let me pass or not?” Chen Fengyun had no patience for the pointless banter of these petty thugs.

“Brother Huang, this guy dares to resist. Let’s teach him a lesson,” the young man with the dark face glared and said.

“You don’t know what’s good for you, kid. Today, you’ll find out what Brother Huang is made of. Brothers, get him!” The youth with yellow hair waved his hand.

All three rushed at him. And then—

There was nothing after that.

Half a minute later, Chen Fengyun calmly walked out of the grove. Not long after, the three battered, limping youths staggered out, supporting each other, faces twisted in pain.

“Brother Huang, who did we mess with? Not only did we get beaten up, but he took the last few hundred yuan we had,” the dark-faced youth whimpered.

“Brother Huang, should we ask Biao for help to get some revenge? We can’t just let it go,” the sturdy youth choked out.

“Damn it. Thought we’d found a fat sheep, but it turned out to be a hungry wolf. If you want revenge, next time it might not be as simple as a broken leg.”

Brother Huang shuddered, recalling the intense aura that man had radiated. Years ago, when he followed Brother Biao, he’d felt it once before—from a fierce man who had killed three renowned martial artists bare-handed, the sort who didn’t blink at murder. He never expected to run into such a savage just by robbing a random passerby. Luckily, the man hadn’t killed them; they’d barely escaped with their lives.

“Remember this. Tell the others to steer clear of that guy in the future. If you die, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the yellow-haired youth hastily told his companions.

Chen Fengyun paid no mind to these trivial matters. When he got home, he started cooking. Recently, he’d been preparing meals for his parents, making sure the house was tidy by the time they returned from work.

On the morning of July 14th, at ten o’clock, Chen Fengyun arrived at the entrance of Huanhuaxi Manor, only to be stopped by the gate guard. “Sir, if you’re here to see someone, please call them to come pick you up. Otherwise, please leave.”

“Alright, I’ll call someone to come get me,” Chen Fengyun replied, immediately dialing Qian Yuejin. Upon learning Chen had arrived, Qian promised to send someone to the gate right away.

Just then, a black Audi pulled up beside Chen Fengyun. The window rolled down, revealing Wang Junguang, his father, and Zhang Qingyan’s father.

“Fengyun, what are you doing here?” Uncle Zhang asked in surprise.

“Uncle Zhang, I have some business here. What brings you all?” Chen Fengyun nodded.

“Oh, our company president lives here. Today, President Wang is bringing me along for a visit,” Uncle Zhang replied, smiling.

“Kid, this is the largest wealthy district in Rongcheng. Only the rich and powerful live here. What are you doing here?” Wang Junguang rolled his window down and questioned coldly.

“So it’s Young Master Wang. Is your backside better yet?” Chen Fengyun greeted with a smile, then hummed, “Chrysanthemum withers, chrysanthemum hurts, yellow petals scattered, how desolate,” as he lifted his head.

Wang Junguang clenched up, his face pale with pain. His injury had just begun to heal, but Chen’s remark made him ache anew.

Wang Junguang’s father, Wang Debin, didn’t pay much attention to the banter among the youths. He shot Chen Fengyun a cold glance, spoke a few words to the gate guard, and their car was allowed through.

“Isn’t that Aunt Zhou from President Qian’s house? Why is she rushing to the gate?” Wang Debin wondered as he spotted a middle-aged woman hurrying toward the entrance after entering the community.

“Are you Mr. Chen?” Chen Fengyun hadn’t waited long before a middle-aged woman approached, glanced around, and respectfully asked.

“Yes, I’m Chen Fengyun. You’re from President Qian’s household?” he nodded and asked.

“Hello, Mr. Chen. I’m Zhou, President Qian’s housekeeper. He asked me to come meet you,” Zhou replied quickly, sizing him up with curiosity.

She remembered Qian’s instructions: “Aunt Zhou, please go to the gate and meet Mr. Chen. He’s young, but don’t neglect him. Treat him with respect.”

“Thank you, Aunt Zhou.” Chen Fengyun followed her into the community, while the security guards watched them enviously.

“President Qian, here’s the situation. I propose promoting Zhang Weiming as the factory director. Please give it some thought.” As Chen followed Aunt Zhou into the Qian household, Qian Yuejin was seated on the sofa. Wang Debin and his son, along with Uncle Zhang, stood respectfully.

“President Qian, Mr. Chen has arrived,” Aunt Zhou announced.

“Ah, Mr. Chen is here. Please, come in and have a seat. Aunt Zhou, serve Mr. Chen the finest tea. Xiao Wang, I have an honored guest to receive now. We’ll discuss your matters later,” Qian Yuejin stood up instantly at Aunt Zhou’s call, ushering Chen forward and issuing instructions, while turning coldly to Wang Debin.

“No need to stand on ceremony, President Qian. Uncle Zhang—so you’re the company president here,” Chen Fengyun nodded to Qian Yuejin and smiled at Zhang Weiming.

“Oh? Mr. Chen, are you acquainted with Deputy Director Zhang?” Qian Yuejin asked, surprised.

“Uncle Zhang and my father used to be colleagues. Our families were neighbors when I was a child. Even after Uncle Zhang moved, our families still often get together,” Chen Fengyun explained.

“In that case, Deputy Director Zhang, stay for now. We’ll discuss your situation shortly. Mr. Chen, after my father ate the watermelon and vegetables yesterday, he felt much better. His old injuries have improved greatly,” Qian Yuejin decided to keep Wang Debin and Uncle Zhang for the time being, leading everyone towards the backyard while describing Old Master Qian Hongjun’s condition.

Wang Debin, his son, and Uncle Zhang were all stunned, staring at Chen Fengyun. None had expected him to be the honored guest President Qian was waiting for. They followed, bewildered, to the backyard, speculating as they walked.

“Young man, you’re here. Please, take a seat,” in the backyard, Old Master Qian was chatting with Doctor Zhao. Upon seeing Chen Fengyun, he smiled and gestured to the bench beside him.

“The old master’s complexion is quite good, though his constitution is a bit weakened—likely due to numerous injuries during the war years and hard living,” Chen Fengyun could tell the old man’s condition at a glance, but still went over to check his pulse before speaking.

“Exactly. The old master’s health has declined in recent years, though his spirit is strong. That’s how he’s lasted so long,” Doctor Zhao, who served as the old master’s personal physician, was well aware of his condition.