40: Chapter 40 Trying anything as a last resort

The moment Qiao Yichen saw the pure white business card, his movements paused.

He picked up the card. The paper was thick, and the edges were cut cleanly and sharply.

'President Wu Guodong'—the three characters written in a steady, forceful script, with a mobile number underneath.

A boss who deals in decoration.

Could he know someone from an antique Auction House?

Qiao Yichen stared at the card, his mind rapidly weighing the possibilities.

President Wu Guodong had mentioned before that he was a Hangzhou City local and knew people from all walks of life. He had also said that if Qiao Yichen wanted to inquire about things difficult to find out in the city, he could call this number.

But was that just polite small talk?

Perhaps it was merely empty pleasantries said for appearance’s sake. If he took it seriously, he would lose.

But what if... it wasn't?

Qiao Yichen glanced at his phone calendar. Next Wednesday, April 23rd, was the Private Negotiation Fair.

Today was April 20th, Sunday.

He had no more time.

He would treat this like trying to save a dead horse by treating it as if it were alive.

He took a deep breath, picked up his phone, and began dialing the number on the card one digit at a time.

...At the same time, in the old warehouse district behind a building materials market in the west of the city.

The air was thick with a mixture of cement dust and the smell of rust.

Lao Si walked out of a workshop with its rolling shutter half-open and pulled the door shut behind him.

The iron door closed with a dull thud that echoed in the empty space.

He didn't leave immediately. Instead, he stood at the doorway, pulled out his cigarette case from his pocket, knocked out a cigarette, and lit it with his head bowed.

The flare of the lighter illuminated half his face. A years-old scar on his forehead, usually hidden by his hair, became visible in the shadow.

After taking two puffs, he pulled out his phone and dialed President Wu Guodong’s number.

'Brother Guodong, it's handled,' Lao Si’s voice was calm, as if reporting on a routine task.

On the other end of the line, President Wu Guodong stood by the study window of his villa, looking at the camphor tree he had planted himself in the yard. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting fragmented spots of light on the lawn.

'How are the people?' President Wu Guodong asked, his tone even.

'Three of them, two legs,' Lao Si said, flicking the ash from his cigarette. 'The leader, the bald one named Liu Jun, has a fractured tibia in his right leg and a dislocated left wrist. The other two—one has three broken ribs, and the other has an ankle fracture. I sent them all to a private clinic. I covered the costs; it’s enough to keep them lying still in bed for three or four months.'

He spoke of it so lightly; it was clear this wasn't his first time.

President Wu Guodong grunted.

'Clean?' he asked.

'Clean,' Lao Si threw the cigarette butt on the ground and ground it out with the sole of his shoe. 'I hired unfamiliar faces who came from outside to make a living. They left right after the fight, and I paid in cash. Liu Jun and his crew have guilty consciences; they were doing dirty work extorting students. They wouldn't dare make a fuss even after getting beaten. Nothing was left at the scene that could point to us.'

President Wu Guodong was silent for two seconds.

Lao Si paused, then added, 'Brother Guodong, should we... go a bit deeper? Scum like Liu Jun is a menace if left around.'

'No need,' President Wu Guodong’s tone was light but carried the weight of finality. 'A lesson is enough. Yaoyao is fine, and they didn't succeed. There’s no need to wipe them out completely. Broken legs will help them remember. They should learn not to touch people they shouldn't touch in the future. That's enough of a blessing for them.'

He paused and added a sentence: 'We are businessmen; we must follow the rules in what we do.'

'Understood,' Lao Si replied.

'Come back now,' President Wu Guodong said. 'You've worked hard.'

'It's my duty.'

The call ended.

President Wu Guodong stood by the window for a while longer.

The sunlight in the yard was just right, and the leaves of the camphor tree swayed gently in the wind. He remembered how his daughter had finally smiled again during dinner last night and even told him interesting stories from school.

That was enough.

Some lines must be made known to others that they cannot cross.

He turned and walked back to his large desk. On it sat a set of Zisha teapots he had been collecting for many years. The pot bodies were smooth and lustrous, emitting a deep brown glow. Just as he reached out to grasp the handle, preparing to pour a cup of tea—

His phone rang.

The caller ID showed an unfamiliar number.

President Wu Guodong glanced at it, his finger hovering over the screen for half a second before sliding to answer.

'Hello,' he said, his voice steady and low, betraying no emotion.

...On the other end of the line.

When Qiao Yichen heard that 'Hello,' his heart instinctively tightened. President Wu Guodong’s voice coming through the waves felt even more oppressive than when he had met him on Friday night.

He quickly regulated his breathing. One must have the right attitude when asking for a favor, so he softened his tone respectfully:

'Hello, President Wu, I am Qiao Yichen. I apologize for disturbing you on a Sunday.'

There was a half-second silence on the other end.

President Wu Guodong held his phone, his eyebrows raising slightly. Qiao Yichen? The young man who saved Yaoyao.

They had just had dinner together last Friday night, and he had given him his card. Why was he calling so soon?

'Mr. Qiao,' President Wu Guodong spoke, his tone softening a bit, taking on the gentle quality of an 'elder.' 'Not disturbing at all. Is something the matter?'

'Yes, there is something I would presume to ask your guidance on,' Qiao Yichen chose his words cautiously. 'I wish to attend the Private Negotiation Fair at the Jiayi Xuan Auction House next week, but entry requires a recommendation from an old client or a partner institution. I truly have no connections in this area. I heard you have many friends and broad knowledge in Hangzhou City. I wonder... do you know what the most appropriate way to proceed in a situation like this would be?'

President Wu Guodong listened, leaning back into the wide chair.

Jiayi Xuan? Antique auction?

He truly hadn't interacted much with that circle. He was in decoration, building materials, and later took on some small real estate projects. His dealings were with construction teams, material suppliers, and the officials who handled permits.

But Qiao Yichen's question was clever; it didn't put him on the spot immediately.

'Jiayi Xuan...' President Wu Guodong slowly repeated the name.

He paused and gave an answer that wasn't a refusal:

'I truly haven't been involved much in the antique auction business. However, I have an old friend who collected some calligraphy, paintings, and porcelain years ago; he's practically half an insider. I can ask him if he has a way in, or if he knows anyone he can speak to for you.'

He left room for maneuver in his words.

But for the desperate Qiao Yichen, this was like a sliver of light breaking through the darkness.

'Thank you so much, President Wu!' Qiao Yichen immediately replied, his gratitude sounding very genuine. 'Whether it works out or not, I am already extremely grateful that you are willing to take the trouble to help inquire.'

'You're welcome,' President Wu Guodong said. 'Send me your full name, along with the specific name and time of that Private Negotiation Fair, via text to this number. It will be easier for me to explain clearly when I ask.'

'Yes, I will send it to you right away.'

'Mm,' President Wu Guodong responded, preparing to hang up.

'President Wu,' Qiao Yichen suddenly called out again, his tone sincere, 'Truly... thank you very much.'

President Wu Guodong held the phone, his gaze falling on the swaying tree shadows outside the window.

'Wait for news,' he said.

The call ended.

President Wu Guodong put down the phone and gently tapped his fingers twice on the smooth mahogany desktop.

Qiao Yichen... interested in antiques?

He picked up the Zisha teapot and poured himself a cup of tea. The tea liquor was golden yellow, and the fragrance curled upwards. He did indeed know an old friend who collected things; his surname was Song. He had made his fortune in foreign trade years ago and enjoyed fiddling with old objects. Their relationship was decent enough; making a phone call to ask wouldn't be too difficult.

This favor—not too big, not too small—was just enough to repay him for helping Yaoyao that one time.

He pondered for a moment, not dialing immediately. Instead, he first opened the text message Qiao Yichen had just sent. The content was concise: 'Qiao Yichen. Jiayi Xuan 'Overseas Returned Artifacts Private Negotiation Fair,' April 23rd (Next Wednesday).'

After reading it, President Wu Guodong exited the message interface and began searching through his contacts.

...In the rental room.

Qiao Yichen put down his phone and let out a long breath.

He didn't know how confident President Wu Guodong was in that 'I'll ask,' but at least it was better than his current state of helplessness.

Just then—

Buzz.

A familiar, slight vibration sounded deep within his mind.

He closed his eyes, and the system interface automatically appeared.

Among the three floating pieces of intelligence, the second one, concerning the 'female student Wu Mengyao,' was slowly fading, as if being erased by an invisible rubber, until it finally disappeared completely.

Immediately following this, a new system notification appeared:

[Intelligence Two Verification Complete. Potential Conflict Completely Dissipated, Subsequent Risks Eradicated.]

The notification lingered for three seconds before fading away.