63: Chapter 63 A Tough Battle

Manager Liu was stunned on the other end of the phone for a full five seconds before speaking cautiously: "Mr. Jiang, what... do you mean by that?"

"Literally."

Jiang Chen's voice was calm and steady as his fingertips lightly tapped the edge of the car window. "Six hundred thousand—I won't agree to that."

"Then you feel the price is inappropriate?"

A hint of wariness seeped into Manager Liu's tone.

"It's not a matter of money."

Jiang Chen leaned back against the seat, his gaze falling on the distant sunset sinking below the horizon. The afterglow dyed his profile in warm gold, but it couldn't hide the deep calm in his eyes.

"I want to talk to Zhao Guofu face-to-face. Just him and me, two people. Nine o'clock tonight, he picks the place."

A rustling sound came from the other end of the line, as if Manager Liu was hesitating whether to relay these forceful words verbatim, or perhaps he was secretly trying to figure out where Jiang Chen's confidence came from.

"Mr. Jiang, President Zhao has always had a tough temper and is a man of his word in the business circle. For you to abruptly demand a face-to-face meeting, I'm afraid..."

Jiang Chen interrupted him flatly, his tone showing no ripple of emotion.

"Just tell him exactly what I said. Tell him that for what I have in my hands, he must come to talk in person; no one else can make the call."

He hung up the phone without giving Manager Liu a chance to ask further questions, nor did he reveal a single bit of extra information, leaving the other party full of doubts on the other end.

The car became quiet once again.

Jiang Chen opened the browser and entered the email address and password already etched into his brain. His fingertip slid across the screen with steady and precise movements.

Login successful.

The inbox was quiet, showing no signs of anything unusual. The interface was so clean it looked as if it had never been used.

But Jiang Chen knew that the things capable of overturning everything were hidden in deep encrypted folders, locked tight.

He clicked on the folder "Work Backup - Chengnan District" and entered a complex password.

A list of files popped up on the screen, neatly arranged, with each filename hiding a secret.

"Transfer Voucher.pdf"

"Letter of Commitment_Scan.jpg"

"Communication Records_Screenshot Collection.png"

"Project Memo_Encrypted.docx"

He clicked through them one by one, browsing quickly. His eyes remained calm and without a ripple, as if he were looking at an insignificant daily document.

On the transfer voucher, Zhao Guofu's personal account had transferred eight hundred thousand to an account designated by Chen, with the remarks column noting it as a harmless "Consultation Fee."

The time was late at night three years ago, one week before the preliminary subway planning for the Chengnan Xuefu Road area was finalized. This timing hid a tacit understanding that could not see the light of day.

The letter of commitment was a scan of a crumpled piece of A4 paper, bearing Chen's crooked handwriting.

"Regarding the sale of the Chengnan Xuefu Road subway planning plot, Mr. Zhao Guofu has already paid the relevant fees. I personally promise to ensure he prioritizes securing the relevant operating rights."

Below was Chen's signature and a bright red thumbprint, glaring and lethal.

The screenshots of the communication records were even more obscure. The dialogue between Zhao Guofu and Chen used a kind of ambiguous code.

"That planning project, I've already settled things on my end. No problems on your side, right?"

"Don't worry, everything that needs to be done has been done. There won't be any hiccups in the process."

"Is the eight hundred thousand 'consultation fee' enough?"

"It's enough, it's enough. We'll talk more after it's finished."

Taken individually, every sentence looked like normal business communication that couldn't be faulted.

But put together, combined with the timing and events, it formed a complete chain of bribery interests, linked together and impossible to deny.

Jiang Chen exited this folder and clicked another one labeled "Financial Backup." Inside were the complete accounts of Zhao Guofu embezzling company funds, each transaction clear and distinct.

Fifteen million, transferred in seven installments, each time with a high-sounding excuse.

"Project Reserve Fund," "Partner Prepayment," "Project Emergency Funds."

Every single one had a scanned copy of an approval slip signed by Zhao Guofu himself. The recipients were three shell companies that appeared completely unrelated.

However, deep records of industrial and commercial information showed that the actual controller of these three shell companies was Zhao Guofu himself; they were merely fronts for him to transfer assets.

Jiang Chen downloaded all the files to his phone one by one.

He also backed them up to the cloud, set up triple complex passwords, and bound an emergency automatic sending program. Only after doing all this did he slowly breathe a sigh of relief.

The entire process took no more than fifteen minutes—neat, efficient, and without the slightest delay.

He exited the email and cleared all browsing records.

Then he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes.

The sun had completely set, leaving only a band of dark purple light on the horizon. The evening breeze blew in through the gap in the car window, carrying a cool breath.

The phone rang soon after. The caller ID was indeed Manager Liu.

"Mr. Jiang, President Zhao has agreed. Tonight at nine, at the 'Ting Song Ge' teahouse in the west of the city. He has booked the Ting Tao private room on the second floor. President Zhao asked me to relay a message to you..."

"What message?"

Jiang Chen's tone was flat, revealing no emotion.

"He said... it's a good thing for young people to have courage, but don't overestimate your own abilities."

The corner of Jiang Chen's mouth curled slightly into an extremely faint arc, without any further response.

"Understood."

He hung up the phone and started the car. The engine gave a low roar as it smoothly merged into the traffic as the night deepened.

His gaze passed through the windshield and fell on the distant city skyline, where lights were turning on one after another, outlining the city's silhouette.

Tonight was destined to be a tough battle.

But he wasn't panicked.

Because what he held in his hand was everything Zhao Guofu had gained through half a lifetime of scheming—it was the lifeblood he would fight desperately to protect.

8:45 PM.

West City, Ting Song Ge Teahouse.

This was a high-end teahouse hidden deep in an alley, a quiet spot in the midst of the bustle, with elegant classical decor.

Several black luxury sedans were parked at the entrance, their license plate numbers in sequence. At a glance, it was clear he had come with a full entourage, putting on quite a display.

Jiang Chen parked his car by the roadside and pushed the door to enter. Dressed in simple attire, he was out of place with the luxurious atmosphere of the teahouse, yet he carried an inherent aura of composure.

The receptionist at the front desk had clearly been instructed. Seeing him enter, she immediately put on a professional smile and spoke respectfully.

"Mr. Jiang, this way please. President Zhao is waiting for you in the 'Ting Tao' private room on the second floor."

He followed the server upstairs. The wooden stairs made a slight creaking sound under his feet. A faint tea fragrance drifted through the corridor, which was so quiet he could hear his own footsteps.

At the end of the second-floor corridor, a carved wooden door was half-ajar, revealing the warm yellow light inside the room.

The server knocked on the door: "President Zhao, the guest has arrived."

"Come in."

A low male voice came from inside, carrying the laziness and impatience of someone long accustomed to being in a superior position, along with a trace of scrutiny that was hard to detect.

Jiang Chen pushed the door and entered.

The private room was large. In the center stood a heavy mahogany tea table with an exquisite set of purple clay tea set. The fragrance of tea brewed with boiling water rose in curls, filling the entire space.

Behind the table sat a man in his fifties—it was Zhao Guofu.

He was wearing a dark blue polo shirt, his hair combed meticulously. A Vacheron Constantin on his wrist glinted with a low-key but luxurious luster under the lights. His whole being exuded the old-school style and majesty of someone long-experienced in the business world.

A half-smile hung on his face, and his gaze was contemptuous, as if he were looking at a junior who didn't know the heights of the heavens and was trying to challenge authority.

"Sit."

Zhao Guofu tilted his chin and pointed to the chair opposite him. His tone was as casual as if he were dismissing a door-to-door salesman, full of condescending neglect.

Jiang Chen sat down, his posture straight. He didn't speak, just quietly looked at the other man.

Zhao Guofu picked up the teapot and slowly poured him a cup of tea. His movements were unhurried, every detail exuding a deliberate composure, attempting to use his aura to suppress the young man before him.

"Jiang Chen, is it?"

He set down the teapot and leaned back against the seat, his hands folded over his stomach in a relaxed posture.

"Manager Liu told me you insisted on talking face-to-face. Fine, I've given you this face. Speak then—what exactly are you trying to pull?"

His tone was like that of someone speaking to a subordinate who had made a mistake.

The politeness carried a condescending scrutiny, and the gentleness hid an unquestionable pressure, certain that the other party couldn't escape his palm.

Jiang Chen picked up the teacup and took a sip. The tea was slightly astringent. He still didn't speak, just quietly waited.