Ding-a-ling!
Late at night, the nursing home's landline rang.
In the office, Director Shen, wearing glasses, picked up the receiver.
He listened quietly for a while, then replied:
"Mm, got it."
Director Shen, his hair graying, hung up and sat alone for a while. A caretaker making rounds with a flashlight was drawn by the light:
"Director Shen, you're still not asleep?"
"Haha, I'll rest once I've finished sorting out the accounts. It's the end of the month again already. I need to tally the expenses and see where the money's going."
The caretaker chuckled:
"You worry too much. Who'd bother targeting a nursing home that doesn't make money?"
Director Shen replied calmly:
"I was entrusted with this, so I'll do my best to see it through. Ze gives us so much money every month to care for the old Righteous Fist Society members, along with some neighbors who have no one else to rely on. If I don't do a good job, I'd be letting down his kindness."
The caretaker offered a few words of sympathy, then turned the flashlight toward the hallway and continued making rounds.
Besides the disabled former members of the Righteous Fist Society, the nursing home also housed some elderly people who had no friends or family to care for them.
The Metropolitan Area's funding alone couldn't possibly feed so many mouths. They mainly depended on Cheng Ze's private donations.
Once things outside quieted down, only the wind and rain remained, blowing in and pounding against the eaves and walls like a chaotic symphony.
"Five bottles of high-grade Mineral Essence, one batch of Load Fluid, ten units of High-Energy Batteries... Ze's got some nerve.
This hurts more than asking for three hundred million and cutting a chunk out of the Qin family's flesh."
Director Shen