27: Chapter 27 The Yonglu Murder Trap: Devouring Them alive

Now, with the endorsement of Young Master Qin from the Magic City and the tacit approval of Young Master Han from Beijing.

Wei Ziang transformed overnight into an "Internet CEO" about to handle core business for City Hall.

Sitting not far away, Qin Tiankuo leisurely picked up a celadon teacup and blew away the floating tea leaves.

Through the tea mist, Qin Tiankuo's gaze toward Wei Ziang was like a butcher assessing meat on a chopping block—cold and calculating.

In Qin Tiankuo's calculations, Meituan had tens of millions of dollars in backing.

Even if it lost tens of millions in the factional infighting at City Hall, it would only be a superficial wound.

But Wei Ziang, a fool who didn't even understand code, was completely different.

This ten million was a probe piercing the main artery of the Wei Family's cash flow.

As long as this loan, under the guise of "commercial investment," rotted away in that faction's meat grinder.

Once Wei Ziang was out of liquidity and facing massive, legitimate debt default, his father, far away in Shanxi, would have no choice but to obediently sell their coal mines to the Qin Family at a low price.

"Young Master Qin, words cannot express my gratitude!"

Wei Ziang stood up, rubbing his hands together, his tone excited: "As soon as the funds arrive, I'll take the project proposal and smash it in Shen Du's face. I guarantee I'll crush that bastard!"

Qin Tiankuo set down his teacup, a smile playing on his lips.

He stood up and patted Wei Ziang on the shoulder: "You're too polite, CEO Wei."

"Let's go. Young Master Han has been waiting in the private room for a while. To celebrate the founding of CEO Wei's company today, we won't stop until we're drunk."

Passing through the climate-controlled corridor, the three of them pushed open the door and entered a private room deep inside Yonglu.

Young Master Han was sitting next to the main seat.

Seeing the glowing, elated Wei Ziang, he cooperatively raised his glass, giving him face.

After sitting down, Qin Tiankuo broke from his usual reserved style.

He didn't open the menu, but leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers casually on the table: "Go get three bottles of the owner's private stash of romanée-conti, the '90 vintage. Also, get the Alba white truffles, prepared to the highest standard, shaved fresh."

Even the well-informed Young Master Han's eyelids twitched upon hearing this order.

These three bottles of wine alone would cost at least a million.

Opposite him, Wei Ziang was completely oblivious.

His mind was filled only with the ten million in his account and the "backing" Qin Tiankuo had promised.

The food and wine were served like a flowing stream.

After a few glasses of red wine, Wei Ziang's tongue became tied.

He spouted regurgitated jargon like "Internet thinking" and "ringing the bell," as if that ten million had turned into a money-printing machine.

Halfway through the drinking session, the butler walked to the table carrying a silver tray with a folded black bill on it.

"The total is 1.27 million. Gentlemen, how would you like to settle this?" The butler bowed slightly, his voice very low.

The room went quiet for a moment.

Spending over a million on a meal was not a figure that even Young Master Han of the Beijing Circle could casually ignore.

Before Qin Tiankuo and Young Master Han could make a move, a bleary-eyed, drunken Wei Ziang slapped his thigh and stood up unsteadily.

"Settle it! I'll settle it!"

With a wave of his hand, he pulled the bank card bound to the ten-million loan from his inner pocket.

With a "slap," he slammed it onto the tray.

As a nouveau riche who had spent years in the mining districts, he had no idea how terrifying the future expenses of a shell Internet company would be.

He only felt that with ten million in assets and a powerful backer, this million-plus meal was the perfect springboard to show off his financial strength.

Squinting his drunken eyes, Wei Ziang entered his password on the POS machine.

Accompanying the "rustling" sound of the machine printing the receipt, 1.27 million in cash was squandered without him even blinking.

Opposite him, Qin Tiankuo held his wine glass.

Through the red wine, he watched Wei Ziang's smug, drunken state, the smile in his eyes deepening.

With a soft "bang," the heavy, soundproof door of the private room was pulled shut by security personnel from the outside, isolating the dead-drunk Wei Ziang.

The warm atmosphere inside the room dropped to freezing.

Young Master Han withdrew his gaze, adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, and spoke bluntly: "Initially, I just wanted to use him as a dog to test the waters and bite Shen Du."

"Brother Qin, you went to such great lengths to guarantee that ten million for him—are you planning to devour his family's mines whole?"

Qin Tiankuo was not the least bit embarrassed.

He picked up the copper lighter on the table and, with a "click," lit a Cohiba cigar.

"My family recently took over a thermal power plant, and coal prices have been soaring these past two years."

Qin Tiankuo exhaled a cloud of smoke and looked at Young Master Han: "As descendants, we must always do something for our families."

Young Master Han frowned slightly: "With the power of your Qin Family, wouldn't it be enough to just apply pressure to acquire them? Why go through such a big roundabout way to help him package a company and guarantee a loan?"

"Brother Han, you know how it is."

Qin Tiankuo flicked the ash from his cigar: "The higher-ups are watching closely now. Every move a major family makes must be legal."

"If I were to use underhanded methods to forcibly seize it, it would give people something to use against me, and the local powers wouldn't accept it either."

Qin Tiankuo pointed the fingers holding his cigar at the million-dollar receipt Wei Ziang had left behind: "Only by using this kind of black-and-white 'investment failure' and 'legitimate debt default'..."

"...can I make them willingly and reasonably hand over the mines to settle the debt."

Young Master Han gripped his wine glass tightly.

A chill crept up his spine.

Just seconds ago, Qin Tiankuo was calling Wei Ziang "brother" at every turn.

As soon as the man left, he laid out his strangulation plan in the gentlest tone.

A flicker of wariness flashed in Young Master Han's eyes.

The games in the Magic City were colder-blooded than those in Beijing.

It was fortunate that the two families had no conflicts of interest.

Suppressing the wariness in his heart, Young Master Han turned the topic back to the core goal: "How is the progress on that Meituan project?"

Faced with the question, the smile on Qin Tiankuo's face faded.

He shook his head: "No movement."

"My informants below say that Shen Du went to the Meituan headquarters a few days ago.

After taking those two project proposals, he hasn't shown his face.

He hasn't communicated with City Hall and hasn't made any moves."

Young Master Han's pupils constricted.

After a brief silence, Young Master Han sneered: "It seems our young master's nose is sharper than a dog's.

He smelled the stench of death buried under those documents."

If it were a money-grubbing nouveau riche, they would have signed the contract the first day they saw the fifty-million subsidy.

Shen Du's inaction not only proved he saw through this meat-grinder poison pill, but it also made this hunt become eerie.

Knowing it was a poison pill, he didn't make a sound, didn't refuse, and didn't step into the trap.

This composure made Young Master Han even more certain of Shen Du's identity as a "political descendant."

"Since the prey has seen through the trap, it won't easily take the bait."

Qin Tiankuo picked up his wine glass again: "Brother Han, what's our next move?"

Young Master Han didn't answer.

He slowly stood up from the leather sofa and picked up the remaining glass of romanée-conti by his side.

Young Master Han walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the night view of the Magic City below.

With a slight flick of his wrist, he expressionlessly poured the red wine in his glass onto the roots of the withered, dead podocarpus on the windowsill.

"Wait."