Definitely a Broke Loser

Generally speaking, Wang Weimin never went to places like fast-food restaurants; the food here was too trashy, the atmosphere was low-class, and it wasn't healthy—none of which suited his status as the young master of Jubaozhai.

Yesterday, during a class reunion, he ran into the former class beauty, so he invited her out for some fun today.

The class beauty had once dated a second-generation rich kid, but she was single now, and she knew that Jubaozhai had grown significantly in recent years, so when faced with the invitation from her former classmate, she hesitated for a moment before agreeing.

After the two had walked until they were tired and decided to rest their feet, she knew he would be the one paying, but she didn't want him to look down on her, so she suggested coming to a fast-food restaurant—compared to cafes or teahouses, this place was relatively cheap.

What could Wang Weimin say? That this place was low-class? Don't be ridiculous; he wanted to score a "friendly match" or something similar after buttering her up, so how could he possibly question her judgment?

The two of them ordered some orange juice and potato chips, not for the sake of eating, but to rest; sitting for half an hour before finding a high-end hotel to dine at was the standard way for old classmates to interact.

Seeing a young man sitting across from them, the two didn't pay much attention at first, but the man's heroic way of eating and his whirlwind speed still managed to startle them.

Two burger combos, and they were gone in the blink of an eye; just how long had he been starving?

Feng Jun hadn't been starving for long; he had ordered food at the bathhouse last night, but he only ordered two baskets of steamed buns and a large bowl of porridge, which didn't fill him up, though he hadn't felt like ordering more.

Setting him aside, the class beauty saw him stand up to go buy more food and couldn't help but mutter in a low voice, "This guy has such a huge appetite; it's a good thing fast-food restaurants aren't expensive."

Fast-food restaurants aren't expensive? If the owner of a hole-in-the-wall eatery heard that, they would definitely disagree.

However, by saying this, she was also subtly hinting: I chose to rest here, not because I've never been to high-end places.

Wang Weimin, however, was stunned for a moment before reaching out and picking up the stone on the other person's table. "Heh, this is interesting."

The class beauty whispered a reminder, "Don't just go touching other people's things."

Wang Weimin replied with complete indifference, "He left his stuff here; he probably wants to sell it. I've seen this kind of thing plenty of times."

This wasn't him just talking nonsense; many people really did sell things this way.

For example, in the middle of summer, someone might walk down the street carrying an exquisite bamboo mat; if you saw the mat had a nice pattern and walked up to ask where they bought it, the person might very well reply directly, "One hundred and sixty!"

Then there were those folks riding electric scooters, carrying two large baskets of mulberries or pomegranates, darting all over the street; you just had to stop them and ask for the price.

The class beauty was still a bit worried about his taking things without asking, "I think he's using this thing to save his seat. You should wait for him to come back and say hello before you pick it up."

"Heh," Wang Weimin chuckled dismissively but didn't say anything more; he didn't want to leave a bad impression on her.

In his view, anyone who came to a fast-food restaurant to eat was a loser; if they had any real ability, who would come to a dump like this to eat?

What? The guy ate a lot? That just made him even more of a loser! If you have the ability, go order Rio lobsters until you're stuffed; that would at least be somewhat interesting.

In his heart, he had already categorized the man: this guy might not be particularly short on cash, but he was definitely someone who did manual labor.

So, he really didn't take the man seriously, instead holding the stone up to look at it from every angle.

His family ran an antique and jade shop, so his eye for quality was far better than the average person's; the moment he held the stone, he knew it was genuine, definitely not synthetic.

The pattern on the stone was also quite interesting; looking closely, one could see faint clouds, mountain peaks, and a temple on the peaks, just like an ink wash painting.

But what was most interesting was that on the edge of the stone, there was a streak of ochre red, looking exactly like the evening glow on the horizon.

If it only had the ink wash effect of water and clouds, the stone would certainly be nice, but it couldn't be called rare; however, the addition of this streak of ochre red gave the entire stone a rich, unique charm.

What is a "strange stone"? The whole point of the hobby is the "strange" factor!

Wang Weimin was determined to have this stone.

When Feng Jun heard this guy actually asking him for a price, he couldn't help but look up, chew twice, stretch his neck to swallow the food in his mouth, and then shake his head, replying with an expressionless face, "Not for sale. I'm using it to save my seat!"

He hated the guy's actions, and he hated this self-righteous attitude even more.

"Not for sale?" Wang Weimin smiled slightly, leaning back into his chair, his chin tilted up, "I said, you can name your price, as long as it's not too outrageous."

His voice wasn't loud, but the half-hidden, high-and-mighty arrogance was impossible to ignore.

This was exactly what Feng Jun couldn't stand; I already said it's not for sale, so what are you showing off your superiority for?

You're the one who wants to buy, not me begging for your charity; who are you trying to impress?

This time, he couldn't even be bothered to speak; he tore into his burger, pointed at the stone with one hand, and then pointed at the tabletop: Seen enough? Do me a favor and put my stuff down.

Wang Weimin suddenly felt a rush of heat on his face. Damn it, you're arrogant enough to not even speak?

How was Feng Jun being arrogant? He just felt that he was in the middle of eating and it wasn't convenient to talk, especially since this fast-food restaurant was a foreign brand; if he were eating at a local domestic shop, talking wouldn't matter, but he didn't want to make a scene in this Western fast-food joint.

Wang Weimin couldn't have guessed this; although he had to mind his image and manners when he went to Western restaurants and would never speak loudly, this was a fast-food restaurant!

Especially with the class beauty beside him, watching his every move, his face turned red in an instant.

You're telling me to put it down? Impossible. I'm going to have this stone today.

You little bumpkin from out of town, daring to act like a big shot in Yang City; today I'll make sure you learn why the flowers are so red!

After a moment of silence, he gave a dry laugh, "My friend, one thousand is a bit expensive. How about this, I really like this stone, let's call it five hundred... If you don't say anything, I'll take that as a yes."

Feng Jun stopped chewing and looked at him with surprise, then went back to stuffing his face, his eyes filled with deep contempt—I'm not saying a word; if you've got the guts, take it!

This expression... I absolutely cannot tolerate this! Wang Weimin was also getting fired up. Without another word, he took out his wallet, counted out five red banknotes, slapped them onto the table with a firm thud, and then picked up the stone, looking at the other man with a provocative gaze.

Feng Jun still didn't speak; he raised his hand and shook the fries in it: Are you blind? I'm eating!

"Alright then, enjoy your meal," Wang Weimin really didn't believe in backing down, so he stood up directly, "I'll be going first."

Feng Jun was so angry he couldn't even put it into words: Did I provoke you? You don't have to be so aggressive and bully people like this.

He raised his hand, wanting to take action, but considering he was in a restaurant, he forcibly suppressed his temper, took out his phone, unlocked the screen, and pressed three digits—calling the police!

Then he picked up his phone again and waved it at the other party.

"You stupid idiot," Wang Weimin sneered coldly, "I've already put the money down. I'd like to see how you report this to the police."

His behavior fell under the category of forced buying and selling; it could be called illegal, but it didn't quite reach the level of a criminal offense.

Once it escalated to the level of a crime, it would either be fraud or robbery.

However, as a local bully and a second-generation rich kid, Wang Weimin had the other party figured out and wasn't afraid of the situation intensifying at all.

There was a nuance to this: the value of the strange stone itself was hard to gauge. Like the stone before them, its uniqueness lay in its pattern and color, while the shape of the stone itself was as ordinary as could be.

In the current trend of strange stones, shape comes first, while patterns are secondary.

If it has a good shape, a large size, and a fitting pattern, then it is a masterpiece.

In other words, this stone only had a pattern but no shape, and it was only this small, so it really wasn't worth much.

If you said it was worth five hundred, many people might even think that was an overestimation.

What Wang Weimin had initially thought was that if he could get it for under five thousand, it wouldn't be a loss; even if he couldn't sell it, he could keep it as a collection, since it wasn't worth much anyway.

However, if he really ran into someone who liked it, selling it for thirty or fifty thousand would be like child's play, and one or two hundred thousand wasn't impossible either.

Just like the Ma Family Tibetan Mastiff Army, where a single dog was worth forty million; that wasn't necessarily hype, as collectors just value whether it catches their eye.

If it happened to be a "pay-to-win" player, money was even less of an issue.

In short, there is a lot of knowledge involved in playing with stones, but personal preference is also extremely, extremely important. Apart from some universally recognized masterpieces, the valuation range of a stone often varies wildly.

Wang Weimin didn't believe it; if he took this stone for five hundred, who would dare to say he was committing robbery!

Seeing that he remained silent, Feng Jun pressed the "call" button directly. He stretched his neck, swallowed a mouthful of fries, and spoke loudly, "Police? I'm reporting a crime, someone is robbing me!"

Wang Weimin watched him with cold eyes, unmoved. You little brat, if I don't make you cry for your parents today, I'm not a man.

The class beauty, however, was quick-witted. She snatched the phone from Feng Jun and, seeing that the call hadn't connected yet, hung it up immediately. "What is wrong with you? We thought you put it there to sell."

Feng Jun's shout had already attracted the attention of many people, and some had already picked up their phones.

A young girl of thirteen or fourteen was the most excited, jumping directly onto a chair to film.

In the era of social media and self-publishing, who wouldn't want to break the news?

Seeing this, Wang Weimin felt a bit of a headache. He could coordinate with friends at the police station, but once it was posted online, it would be hard to handle, and the situation could become uncontrollable.

Seeing the woman step forward, Feng Jun couldn't help but feel a little regretful. Since he couldn't go through the police, he would have to adopt a different strategy.

So he sneered, "I already said it, I'm not selling. Didn't you hear me?"

The class beauty was left speechless, but Wang Weimin was thick-skinned enough to immediately shout, "You held up one finger, which clearly meant you were selling it for one thousand. I offered five hundred, and you didn't object... If you don't believe me, let's check the surveillance footage!"

"Can you have some shame?" Feng Jun's face darkened. "I was telling you to put it down! Even by your logic, if I held up one finger, couldn't that count as ten thousand?"

He paused for a moment before snorting coldly, "With a difference of five thousand, am I wrong to report a robbery?"

Wang Weimin laughed in anger, "You want to sell this piece of junk for ten thousand? Are you dirt poor and crazy?"