127: Chapter 127 There's work to do!

Uncle Liu stubbed out his cigarette and looked up at him.

Liu Zhigang leaned forward, his hands crossed over his knees, his expression more tense than before.

"Give me a price."

Uncle Liu remained silent for a moment, his lips twitching.

"Two million four hundred thousand."

Jiang Chen's expression didn't change after hearing this.

He rested his hands on his knees, his tone unhurried as he spoke.

"Uncle, the bones of this house are truly excellent. It's a blue brick and wood structure from the twenty-eighth year of the Republic. To have remained intact until now, the workmanship and materials used back then were beyond reproach."

He paused for a moment.

"But there are indeed quite a few problems."

Jiang Chen lightly tapped the tabletop with his fingertip, his voice calm, yet every word hit a vital point.

"The beams are worm-eaten, the west wall on the second floor has water seepage, the plaster under the study windowsill is brittle and falls off at a touch, and the staircase handrail tenons are loose and feel unstable underfoot; it needs complete reinforcement."

"That century-old plane tree in the backyard has roots that have buckled the foundation. A crack runs diagonally across the entire backyard from the base of the northeast corner wall all the way to the back wall of the main hall."

"To fix the foundation, the tree must be moved; to move the tree is to damage the house's structure. If the tree can't be saved, the house can't be fixed. This is a deadlock."

His gaze swept calmly across Uncle Liu's face before finally landing on Liu Zhigang.

His look was gentle, yet it carried an understated sense of pressure.

"Uncle, you're an honest man. You've been upfront with me about the house's flaws without hiding anything, so I won't beat around the bush with you either."

"If I take this house, the worm-eaten beams must be replaced, the loose tenons reinforced, the leaking walls scraped and waterproofed, and the foundation cracks grouted."

"Just these items alone will cost at least two hundred thousand, not counting the time and effort invested afterward."

Uncle Liu pursed his lips, clutching the unlit cigarette in his hand, his thumb lightly rubbing the rolling paper.

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn't speak.

Liu Zhigang suddenly leaned forward, his face flushing red. Just as he was about to speak, Uncle Liu shot him a sharp, brief look.

Liu Zhigang's mouth shut, and he sat back, stifling his frustration as his Adam's apple bobbed.

Jiang Chen didn't look at Liu Zhigang.

His gaze remained on Uncle Liu, his tone steady and reasoned, pressing forward step by step.

"In the past six months, four similar old residences near Wutong Lane have been sold. Their area and layout are similar to yours. The highest sold for two million and seventy thousand, and the lowest for one million eight hundred and thirty thousand."

"The bones of your house are indeed better than those, but it also has more fatal flaws, which naturally discounts its value."

He picked up his phone, the screen lit up with a page showing property transaction records.

He placed it casually on the table, screen up, so the other party could see it clearly.

"I am a sincere buyer, and I have the leverage. It'll be a full cash payment, arriving the same day the contract is signed and the title is transferred. There's no need for bank approval. If we settle today, the contract will be delivered tomorrow, and it will take effect upon signing. No delays, no debts."

The air in the main hall felt as if a layer had been sucked out.

It was so quiet that one could hear the rustling of the plane tree leaves in the backyard.

Liu Zhigang couldn't hold back any longer and spoke up abruptly, his voice much harder than before: "Mr. Jiang, this is an ancestral home left by my grandfather! My father has lived here his whole life! Two million four hundred thousand is not high at all."

"It's only normal for an old house to have some problems. Even new houses have leaks. How has it become an excuse for you to drive down the price?"

Jiang Chen didn't even spare him a glance.

He looked at Uncle Liu, his tone indifferent but his words piercing: "Uncle, I won't say more. I'll just give my price."

He paused for a beat.

"Two million, full cash, arriving the same day."

Liu Zhigang's eyebrows shot up and his mouth opened as he leaned forward, looking ready to explode.

Uncle Liu raised a hand.

That hand was thin and withered, covered in age spots, with joints deformed by rheumatism.

Yet with just a slight lift of this seemingly weak hand, Liu Zhigang's mouth immediately shut.

The words at the tip of his tongue were forced back down.

Uncle Liu's cloudy eyes looked at Jiang Chen.

There was struggle in his gaze, as well as a sense of helplessness from being hit where it hurt.

They remained in a standoff for about ten seconds.

"Two point one."

His voice was raspy, as if squeezed from deep within his chest. "Two million is too low. This house was left by my father; I can't let its value be ruined in my hands."

Jiang Chen met his gaze, his eyes clear.

He saw the thin layer of persistence in the old man's eyes, and the loosening beneath it.

He didn't hesitate.

"Fine. Two million one hundred thousand, full cash. I'll have someone bring the contract over tomorrow to sign in person."

With those words, it was settled.

He left no room for regret and no further room for negotiation.

From the moment he entered, the pace had always been in his hands.

Uncle Liu nodded heavily.

Liu Zhigang's face turned from pale to flushed, his lips moved, but in the end, he said nothing.

He sat for a while, then suddenly stood up and pulled a cigarette pack from his pocket, paused, and stuffed it back in.

His hand was clenched in his pocket, his knuckles white.

The main hall fell silent for a moment. The wind from the backyard rustled through the plane tree leaves.

Uncle Liu leaned back in his armchair, his gaze falling on the branches of the plane tree reaching in from outside the gate.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled spots of light on his wrinkled face.

He didn't look at Jiang Chen or Liu Zhigang again.

Jiang Chen stood to take his leave, leading Lu Zheng out.

His pace was unhurried, just as it had been when he arrived.

As they walked out of the gate of No. 17, the afternoon sun was already slanting west. The flagstone path of Wutong Lane was covered in leaf shadows that shattered when the wind blew.

Lu Zheng followed behind. After walking a dozen steps, he couldn't help himself.

"Mr. Jiang, when you offered two million, were you sure he would counter with two million one hundred thousand?"

Jiang Chen didn't stop.

"It's been listed for over five months. The highest sale in the same area was two million and seventy thousand. With worm-eaten beams, leaks, and foundation cracks, it'll cost at least a hundred thousand or more to fix."

"My offer of two million was to leave him room to bargain. His ask of two million four hundred thousand was an inflated probe; his psychological bottom line was two million one hundred thousand."

Lu Zheng thought for a moment. "Would he have budged at two million?"

"No."

Jiang Chen opened the car door. "If he had agreed to two million, he wouldn't have been able to face Liu Zhigang. At two million one hundred thousand, he has an explanation for his son, and it's within my psychological price range as well. It was all calculated from the start."

He sat in the back seat and rolled down the window, looking back at the blue brick building.

The massive canopy of the plane tree reached over the courtyard wall, its leaves rustling, obscuring most of the two characters "Qi Wu" above the lintel.

The phoenix perches on the plane tree.

Jiang Chen recited the phrase in his mind.

The things buried under this old residence are worth far more than two million one hundred thousand.

"Mr. Jiang, where to now?"

Jiang Chen withdrew his gaze.

"Back. Let the six of them get some good rest tonight."

He paused.

"Starting tomorrow, there's work to do."

Lu Zheng started the car and drove out of Wutong Lane.

In the rearview mirror, the gate of No. 17 was still open. Uncle Liu stood behind the threshold, holding the doorframe, his figure stretched into a long, thin gray shadow by the setting sun.

Liu Zhigang stood beside him, hands in his pockets, watching the car drive away with an indiscernible expression.

The canopy of the plane tree grew smaller in the rearview mirror, finally becoming a dense green shadow that merged into the twilight deep in the lane.