Chapter 54: The Kid's Arrogance is So Damn Handsome

In less than half an hour, little Dragon breathlessly called Fang Xinghe back.

"Young Master Fang! Found them, I found them!"

"No rush, catch your breath, take it slow..."

"I'm, I'm fine! They're at, at the Regent Hotel, the one by the train station, the hotel owned by Wang Ye!"

"Good, thanks for your hard work. Wait for me to get there."

Fang Xinghe stood up, and Du Yu and Heizi, who had hurried over, sprang to their feet as well. Du Yu tucked a dagger into the back of his waistband, while Heizi picked up Fang Xinghe's leather bag.

"What are you doing?" The boss Fang smiled wryly and waved his hand. "Put the weapons away. The Thirteen Eagles have gone straight now. We are a study group, damn it, not a gang..."

The boss's deadpan joke cracked up the other two so hard they bent over backward, unable to straighten their spines.

"Hahahaha... A... a study group..."

"Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee..."

Fang Xinghe couldn't help laughing either. That editor at Jilin Daily was an absolute genius. Once he opened his company later, he should poach him just to provide daily entertainment for everyone. Leaving him at the provincial newspaper was too much of a waste.

"Alright, let's go. Time to go check out our new friends."

"Got it! Go go go!"

A big-shot social brother didn't even have a car. Fortunately, when Du Yu came, he hailed a taxi and left it waiting at the entrance, sparing Young Master Fang from walking there.

In those days, the taxis in Nong'an were little Altos. Fang Xinghe had never seen such a contraption in his past life; the more he looked at it, the more it resembled an elderly mobility scooter.

Arriving at the destination and stepping out, he looked up and saw this massive... four-story building.

The Regent Hotel? Wonderful, absolutely spot on.

Before he could take in more details, little Dragon zipped over to Fang Xinghe. He wanted to raise his hand to salute, but didn't know where to put it. Flustered, red-faced, and at a complete loss, he finally just shouted,

"Young Master Fang!"

Fang Xinghe had no idea how young gangsters in this era greeted each other, so he proactively opened his arms and reached out.

"Brother Long, thank you for your hard work."

Little Dragon hurriedly shook hands with Fang Xinghe, repeating, "No trouble at all, no trouble at all! The train station area is just that small, we found them in no time!"

"Where are they?"

"Fourth floor, room 404!" Little Dragon pointed up. Beside a lit window, another lackey was acting as a lookout.

"Let's go, upstairs."

Little Dragon immediately took the lead, with Du Yu and Heizi following closely behind, shielding Fang Xinghe in the middle.

As they walked, little Dragon briefed Young Master Fang on the situation.

"We went to the front desks of every single inn and asked one by one. The girls working at the local inns are all familiar with us, so it was easy to pin down. Then I had my two younger sisters go trick them into opening the door. Those two morons heard they were sisters and opened up immediately, and then the boys rushed in and pinned them right on the spot! Damn, people coming from the capital really are different. They've got a ton of valuable stuff—cameras, mobile phones, tape recorders..."

Fang Xinghe listened patiently until he finally asked, "You didn't touch their stuff, did you?"

"Of course not!" Little Dragon shook his head immediately. "That would be burglary! We're just street hoodlums, not idiots."

"Good, you've got brains."

With that casual compliment, little Dragon rubbed the back of his head, giggled foolishly, and grew shy again.

Reaching the fourth floor, they looked up and saw three people—two girls and a guy—guarding the corridor outside. The moment Fang Xinghe appeared, their eyes lit up. They hurriedly covered their mouths, almost screaming in excitement.

Fang Xinghe nodded cordially at them and, led by little Dragon, walked into room 404.

Inside the room were four more young guys and two young girls. When they saw Fang Xinghe, they all stood up in unison. Some nervously rubbed their hands, some unconsciously stepped forward, and others covered their mouths in shock...

They looked exactly like modern teenagers seeing their idol in person—perhaps even more exaggerated, because Brother Fang in his natural, makeup-free state possessed the kind of supreme looks that could unify human aesthetics entirely.

"Wow..."

Amidst the suppressed, soft gasps of awe, Fang Xinghe looked toward the bed.

Sitting on the bed were two middle-aged men in their thirties or forties, stripped down to their undershorts. They looked shivering and cowering. There were no traces of physical violence, but they were scared out of their wits.

On the bedside table next to them, a clutter of cameras, tape recorders, mobile phones, notebooks, and pens was laid out.

Fang Xinghe had a clear picture now. With a flick of his hand, Heizi immediately passed him his bag.

"Thank you all for your hard work today."

He casually reached into his bag and pulled out roughly two or three thousand yuan. Without counting it, he handed it directly to little Dragon.

"Brother Long, take the brothers out for a late-night snack and thank everyone properly for me. If there's still enough time after things are done, I'll come over and toast you all."

So gangster! So utterly gangster!

The two reporters looked up in blank astonishment, their faces a mask of shock, their eyes brimming with disbelief—Holy shit, Fang Xinghe, did you actually unite the entire Nong'an underworld?!

Looking at this big-boss demeanor of yours, I refuse to believe you haven't got a few bodies buried on your hands...

With such an effortless posture, such natural movements, and such seasoned language, one glance told you he was no good guy.

The two older men then recalled this guy crying his eyes out with snot and tears while being interviewed by Wang Deli, and their hearts instantly leapt into their throats—Oh mother! This bastard wasn't lying; Fang Xinghe really is the kind of unhinged little punk who would bury people over a single disagreement!

The world went dark before their eyes, their hearts tightened, and the two old men started shivering like a flour sifter.

Meanwhile, with such a massive stack of RMB shoved into his hands, little Dragon experienced a mix of flattered surprise and hesitant struggle. The two emotions blended into utter bewilderment: "Young Master Fang, this... I... we're just doing a tiny favor for you..."

"When friends go through trouble, they deserve to be thanked."

Fang Xinghe waved a hand, cutting off little Dragon's unconvincing polite declines, and instructed in a tone that brooked no argument: "Give the extra cash to the younger brothers and sisters so they can freshen up their looks. The guys are handsome and the girls are pretty, so why make yourselves look so sloppy?"

Where had these kids ever seen anything like this?

Two of the young girls were practically on the verge of tears.

The others, who had originally wanted to crowd forward to greet Fang Xinghe and cling to him, suddenly felt too ashamed of themselves to move.

Yet, rather than feeling angry, their hearts overflowed with emotion—Young Master Fang complimented me! Even my own mother has never cared about me this much!

Actually, this was the essence of President Fang's routine.

He didn't want to be swarmed by a bunch of punk kids, chattering endlessly, asking this and that, hanging onto his neck.

However, since they had gone out of their way to help, he couldn't just give them a cold shoulder, could he?

Therefore, showing friendliness while maintaining a distance required a high degree of emotional intelligence and finesse—just because your Brother Fang fought first and asked questions later, daring to challenge anyone and acting fiercely, didn't mean he lacked emotional intelligence.

On the contrary, when needed, his high perception stats could translate into considerable emotional intelligence.

"Don't worry, Young Master Fang!"

Little Dragon nodded forcefully, looking dead serious: "Everyone who helped today gets a share. Doing things for you, even if I don't take a cent myself, I can't shortchange them!"

Fang Xinghe raised a hand and patted the other man's shoulder: "Alright, go have fun, we'll keep in touch."

Little Dragon glanced at the two reporters and hesitated, "Do you need me to leave a couple of brothers here to sit on them..."

"No need, just chatting, no need for that."

Fang Xinghe smiled faintly, which only made the two reporters even more terrified.

What kind of wretched place is this, damn it?

What kind of wretched situation is this, damn it?

Fang Xinghe, do you know you're about to break the law?!

The young men and women retreated in a bustling commotion. They hadn't dared to breathe a loud breath inside the room, but the moment they stepped outside, they started chattering away.

Fang Xinghe vaguely heard the two feisty girls bickering with each other again.

"Why didn't you step up again?"

"I didn't dare..."

"Such a loser! You were talking so tough beforehand, but when you got close, you went soft like a wilted cucumber!"

"I, my legs really went weak..."

"Damn it! Another good opportunity wasted!"

"You, you're still lecturing me? You were so badass, why didn't you go up?"

"My legs went soft too, damn it!"

They sounded utterly righteous, enough to crack someone up.

Yet, far from mocking her, their companions chimed in one after another.

"Right, right, right! Young Master Fang in person is just mind-blowingly badass. I only dared to steal glances at his profile; I didn't dare look him straight in the eye at all!"

"His aura is even stronger than those underworld bosses!"

"He really charmed me stupid. Holy shit, how can a man be this handsome?"

"Seeing him just makes me panic like crazy. Damn it, I didn't even dare to get close for fear that I would suddenly, in-in-in... trans-transgress... Damn it! How does that saying go again?"

"Young Master Fang is so righteous... For such a tiny favor, he gave away so much money!"

Transforming back from little Dragon to Brother Long, he swaggered as he lit a cigarette, slapped the stack of cash against his palm, and eyed everyone sideways.

"Eat my ass! Look at you lot, looking all sloppy and messy. Bringing you out to eat with Young Master Fang would bring shame on me! Later, I'll hand out 200 to each of you. Once you get back, tidy yourselves up properly! We're not like we used to be; we've done proper business for Young Master Fang now. From now on, you must pay attention to your personal appearance, understand?"

"Understood! Ooh-yay!"

Hearing that they would get as much as 200, the kids burst into cheers, thoroughly excited.

Standing at the doorway without stepping inside, Fang Xinghe couldn't help shaking his head with a smile, finding this bunch of kids rather amusing.

Although in his past life he had only lived to be twenty-five, and now he was merely fourteen, his different life experiences and vastly superior worldly wisdom determined who the children were, and who stood out as exceptionally extraordinary even among adults.

"A rather lovely bunch of little brothers and sisters, wouldn't you say?"

Fang Xinghe initiated the first sentence to the two reporters. The unexpectedly casual opening made the pair even more uneasy.

The two exchanged glances, and the older one braced himself to take the bait.

"Yes, yes, they're all quite... pure."

Seeing that Fang Xinghe's attitude wasn't overly hostile, the younger one joined in too: "Fang Xinghe, you're the teenage writer I respect the most, and you have a boundless future. The two of us are just petty reporters trying to make a living, we have nothing..."

"Got money?"

Fang Xinghe interrupted lazily.

"Huh?!"

The two men—one tall, one short, one fat, one thin, with the older one's hairline in a perilous state and the younger one sporting dark circles around his eyes—looked like the epitome of bad luck.

At this moment, they were left completely dumbfounded by Fang Xinghe's question, staring at each other with increasingly bitter expressions.

"This... not, not much..."

"I figured as much." Fang Xinghe nodded knowingly, pulled a chair over from the room, sat down boldly opposite them, and stared straight into their eyes.

"I've got a way to make money here. Want to hear it?"

" Uh..."

The bald forehead and dark circles exchanged glances for the third time, both looking hesitant.

When people find themselves in an unknown and high-risk environment, they are more prone to rely on their companion. Supporting each other helps alleviate fear and insecurity.

Therefore, instead of separating them, Fang Xinghe sat openly in front of both at the same time, hoping they would influence one another.

"Living in Beijing is indeed tough!"

Sighing, President Fang pulled half a pack of Red Pagoda Mountain cigarettes from his bag, drew out two, and leisurely stuffed one into each of their mouths before leaning in to light them.

This routine wasn't meant to look cool; it was meant to apply psychological pressure and lay the groundwork for what he was going to say next.

"You see, I've also lived in the imperial capital for a while. Living alone means nobody else goes hungry, and staying there was fine—the novelty far outweighed the pressure. How about the two of you? Have you settled down there?"

"No, not yet." The dark circle bit down on his cigarette without daring to light it, offering a cautious, ingratiating smile. "How could we afford to settle down?"

The bald forehead, however, was an old smoker. He took a greedy, deep drag, found some internal composure, and looked at the teenager with a mix of caution and nervousness: "Student Fang, you're a busy person. Why don't you just come right out with it?"

"It's nothing much." Fang Xinghe smiled easily. "I really am here to deliver money to you."

"Your uncle's interview?"

Anyone who could become a reporter wasn't stupid; the two of them had actually guessed it long ago, and were merely waiting for the chance to voice it.

"Right."

The bald forehead immediately waved his hands: "We don't need money for that. You can take all our photos and written records right now, consider it our apology to you."

Fang Xinghe chuckled dryly: "I'm not a robber."

He paused. "That lacks technical content."

Finally, he pressed his hand forward: "No rush, smoke."

The implication was that they could shut their mouths now.

Three sentences, accompanied by a dry chuckle, a pause, and a hand gesture to halt them, left no room for either of them to interrupt.

It was not only sufficiently assertive, displaying the composure of someone entirely in control of the situation, but also an aggressive psychological tactic that breached their mental boundaries layer by layer.

The two could only obediently shut up and smoke in silence.

During this time, they cautiously observed Fang Xinghe while their brains spun at high speed.

How long does it take to smoke a cigarette?

At the fastest, half a minute, just like right now.

So, how many problems can you figure out in half a minute?

Very few. When applied to any specific issue, it's hardly enough.

Therefore, they only really established one thing—Fang Xinghe was not simple. He must never be treated as a child; he deserved the utmost respect and careful consideration regarding his demands or proposals.

At this point, the two Southern Metropolis reporters shifted from panic, anxiety, and nervousness to bewilderment, curiosity, and dread.

And Fang Xinghe finally began to get down to business.

"Taking any of your belongings is meaningless, and the same goes for harming you. To be brutally honest, the higher-ups at Southern Metropolis probably wish nothing more than for you two to be buried here in Nong'an, trading your lives for a major scoop so some people can jump for joy... Do you know who I'm hinting at?"

The preceding words had offended them, but coupled with the final sentence, the anger vanished, replaced by suspicion.

"Heh, looks like you two know what's what."

Fang Xinghe smiled like a demon, maximizing the mockery, before abruptly dropping the subject and shifting the tone.

"Forget it, that's not important. I never care about people or things out of my reach; I only care about myself."

This sentence was yet another small, sharp, barbed hook, quietly tugging at certain emotions.

The dark circles grew restless: "What on earth do you want?"

The bald forehead hurriedly smoothed things over, making up for his companion's "disrespectful" tone.

"That's right, Student Fang. Look, things have come to this. If you have anything you want to discuss, can we just lay our cards on the table?"

"Simple."

President Fang leaned lazily back against the chair and leisurely laid out his demands.

"I need you to shelve the current interview material, rewrite a completely innocuous report, and fax it back. You can gauge the scale yourselves. I only have two requirements—no more reporters can come to interview my uncle's family, and they must not suspect anything or take the initiative to leak information anywhere..."

"Impossible!" The dark circle nearly jumped up in alarm. "How could we have that kind of influence? We simply can't do it!"

"Fifty thousand yuan."

"Huh?!"

As President Fang's breezy voice dropped, the dark circle froze right in place, neither sitting nor standing, his rear end sticking high up in the air.

The bald forehead dropped his jaw, tilting his head back slightly so that the light shone on his oily, shiny bald pate.

"How, how much?!"

President Fang leisurely raised his right hand, spreading five fingers: "Fifty thousand, RMB. You two can figure out how to split it yourselves."

He only had a little over two hundred thousand yuan in total savings, yet he dared to spend fifty thousand on something like this. But never think fifty thousand wasn't a lot of money; the actual salary of the two imperial capital reporters was barely a little over six hundred.

Gulp!

The sound of the dark circle swallowing his saliva was deafening.

Sweat covered the bald forehead's pate, and his lips were so dry they were splitting, but he was thinking further ahead, reminding him with a bitter expression: "Doing this makes no sense at all. Even if we can stall for a while, we can't drag it out forever..."

"I don't need you to drag it out forever."

President Fang curled the corners of his mouth, narrowing his eyes. His striking, mismatched eyes looked long, narrow, and bewitching, holding an impact that was utterly indescribable—the more you looked at him, the more he resembled a devil tempting you into sin.

"Two to three months will do. By then, you can even break the news yourselves and claim another bonus from the agency. I've even thought of the excuse for you—the previous investigation wasn't comprehensive enough, we felt something was amiss, the more we thought about it the weirder it seemed, and then through a second covert visit, overcoming all odds, we painstakingly worked on Wang Deli until the truth finally came to light..."

The two exchanged glances once more, and then clearly saw the swaying hesitation in each other's eyes.

"But... but..."

"I don't get it. What on earth are you playing at?"

Fang Xinghe glanced at the dark circles and replied openly and honestly: "Finding a good launch date for my new book."

"Just for that?!"

The dark circle's exclamation bordered on breaking his vocal cords. He simply couldn't comprehend how a human being could be this unhinged?

Going to such enormous lengths and pulling out so much money, all for such a trivial matter?

Is it that I don't understand geniuses, or are you severely ill?

Despite being full of suspicion, looking at Fang Xinghe's calm, resolute face—one that made it seem as though everything was firmly under his control—he had to admit: damn it, when this kid acts arrogant, he is just too damn handsome...