Windfall Profits

Squeak.

The door slowly opened.

"Doctor Zhang, given the recent chaos in the Lower-Level District, to ensure your safety, the protection fee has gone up from 1,900 to 2,200."

Halfway through, the tattooed man collecting protection fees froze slightly.

The one who had opened the door was not Doctor Zhang, but a delicate-looking, frail young man.

"Brother Zhou." The young man smiled as he spoke.

Zhou Quan, standing beside the tattooed man, was visibly taken aback:

"Brother Fusheng?"

"This is my father's clinic. I never expected to run into you here, Brother Zhou. Please, come in."

Zhang Fusheng stepped aside and gestured for them to enter.

Zhou Quan exchanged a glance with the tattooed man.

The three entered the cramped clinic. Zhou Quan surveyed the tiny place.

There was an old, rusted examination bed, while the equally rusted metal cart beside it was covered with tweezers, scalpels, and other tools.

An ancient refrigerator buzzed away in a moldy corner.

There were no monitors, no shadow lamps—only the smell of damp mold, stale blood, and disinfectant mingled together.

Cramped, stifling, dim.

Zhou Quan's gaze settled on the delicate, weak-looking youth. The smile he always wore vanished:

"I've heard of Doctor Zhang. Neutral, fair, and discreet. He's a highly competent, outstanding underground doctor. I just never expected him to be Brother Fusheng's father."

Zhang Fusheng did not answer. He silently counted out 2,200 yuan and held it out to the tattooed man.

The latter took it.

Zhou Quan stared at Zhang Fusheng and smiled:

"Brother Fusheng heard the conversation between A Bao and me just now, didn't you?"

He had no intention of leaving. Instead, he pulled over a wooden chair and dropped into it.

"I heard it." Zhang Fusheng nodded faintly.

Zhou Quan said unhurriedly:

"Then there's nothing more to say. A Bao, return the protection fee to Brother Fusheng, then draw 300,000 and ten jin of goods from the department. Deliver them all to Brother Fusheng afterward."

Zhang Fusheng raised a brow. They wanted him to transport drugs?

He did not care where they wanted them taken, nor did he care why they had chosen him—because he would not do it.

In his previous life, Zhang Fusheng had loathed drugs to the bone. In this life, influenced by his father as well, he would never touch the stuff, not even by the slightest fraction.

Zhou Quan toyed with a silver coin in his hand and said calmly:

"Residents of the Lower-Level District and Mid-Level District are normally forbidden from entering the Upper-Level District. But Brother Fusheng can. You got into Jiang University, didn't you?"

After a pause, he continued:

"In our Lower-Level District, the market price for one gram of flour is five hundred. Transport it to the Mid-Level District, and it can sell for six hundred. Transport it to District Three—"

"It can sell for five thousand."

"Of course, if Brother Fusheng is capable enough to get it into District Two, one gram of flour can sell for at least eight thousand. The three-thousand difference is all yours."

Zhang Fusheng frowned:

"Why not find someone from the Upper-Level District?"

Zhou Quan looked at him as though he were an idiot:

"We Chaimen want to make money, not die. The Upper-Level District is tangled as a web of roots and branches. Any passerby might be the nephew of the Public Security Bureau chief, or the disciple of some high-ranking martial artist."

Zhang Fusheng knitted his brows:

"There are plenty of people in the Mid-Level District who can enter the Upper-Level District too, aren't there?"

"There are quite a few."

Zhou Quan lit a cigarette and explained with great patience:

"But Chaimen isn't going to plant its flag in the Mid-Level District. People from the Lower-Level District like you, or Wang Xiangnan, are much more convenient for getting things done."

Zhang Fusheng lowered his eyes:

"Brother Zhou joined the Martial Arts Academy to look for suitable candidates?"

"Not really. It was just something done along the way. Every mule that can freely enter and leave the Upper-Level District is hard to come by."

Zhou Quan exhaled clouds of smoke:

"Then it's settled. Tomorrow, A Bao will teach you what to do. Ten jin of goods per run, and you get a 300,000 commission. Sell it at five thousand per gram. If you sell it for more, keep the extra yourself."

Zhang Fusheng asked patiently:

"I don't touch that stuff. Brother Zhou, how about finding someone else?"

Zhou Quan did not answer. He merely said mildly:

"Let me introduce myself first. Zhou Quan. My father is the hall master of Chaimen's Fire Department."

"A few days ago, our Fire Department lost forty jin of goods. The one who stole them was badly injured, but we still failed to catch her. Someone treated her wounds."

He rose to his feet, blew smoke into Zhang Fusheng's face, stubbed out the cigarette, and spoke in a ghostly tone:

"Who do you think treated her wounds? Uncle Zhang, perhaps?"

Zhang Fusheng's lips twitched.

Mm.

It really had been him.

But Zhou Quan clearly did not know that. He was threatening him.

Yet so long as Zhou Quan wished it, that person could become his father.

"Give Uncle Zhang my regards for me."

Zhou Quan bit down hard on the words "Uncle Zhang," then waved his hand, rose with the tattooed man called A Bao, and left.

Zhang Fusheng remained where he stood.

For a long time.

He returned to the basement and silently changed into Zhong Shan's appearance. But after hesitating for a moment, he ultimately changed back.

Wasting that face just to kill Zhou Quan was not worth it, and it might even drag that girl into it.

If Chaimen killed Zhong Yue, the deal would fail outright as well.

Most importantly, Zhang Fusheng was not a good man, but neither was he an utter villain. He truly could not bear to watch that little girl lose her life for nothing.

After a long silence, he went outside, left the dark alley, and hailed a taxi.

"How did that saying go again? You searched everywhere in iron shoes and found nothing, only to obtain it without any effort at all."

The two went down the dark alley, collecting protection fees door to door.

Zhou Quan said with a smile:

"Another line of business."

A Bao nodded firmly:

"With a tenfold price difference, that kid, like the other two mules, can make one run a day. After costs and payoff money are deducted, he can still net us over ten million."

After a pause, he said regretfully:

"Too bad mules like this are too hard to find. The number of people from the Lower-Level District admitted to Jiang University each year can be counted on one hand, and we can only use them for two months."

For someone from the Lower-Level District to enter the Upper-Level District was absurdly difficult. Comparatively speaking, the easiest way was to "get into Jiang University."

Zhou Quan placed the last protection payment into the handcart. The dark alley stretched across the entire Lower-Level District, with tens of thousands of shops, large and small, scattered throughout. Of those, one thousand fell under the Fire Department's control.

The monthly protection fees came to two million.

It was not much, but its symbolic meaning was immense. Whoever collected the money had the final say over those thousand shops. It had previously been his elder brother.

But a few days ago, his dear elder brother had been slapped to death by that woman who stole the goods, so the job had fallen into his hands.

Zhou Quan sighed softly:

"Yes. These top-tier mules can only be used for two months. Once Jiang University starts, they have to be dealt with immediately, lest their wings grow hard and they bite their master in return."

Who knew whom these mules might befriend at Jiang University, or which great family's children they might come to know?

So each year, only these two-odd months of summer vacation could bring in a windfall profit.

If it could be maintained long-term...

Zhou Quan could not help swallowing. After thinking for a moment, he gave another order:

"This Zhang Fusheng is a special case. His talent is very strong. Though it's unlikely that the one at Hong's will take another disciple, better safe than sorry. When you deliver the goods to him tomorrow, tell him not to go to the Martial Arts Academy anymore."

"Yes, Young Master." A Bao nodded crisply.

As they spoke, they had followed the dark alley back to Eighth District. This short stretch was filled with prostitutes, yet none of them foolishly came forward to solicit them.

"Money." Zhou Quan licked his lips.

"Little brother, 132." The driver glanced at his watch. "Oh, it's past midnight. I need to get out of here fast, or it'll be big trouble later."

Even taxi drivers temporarily permitted to enter the Upper-Level District because they were carrying passengers were not allowed to linger, especially at night.

And there would be real-time surveillance by the "Heavenly Eye." They were not even allowed to step out of their cars.

Zhang Fusheng handed over the money and got out. Before him stood Hong Ji Martial Arts Hall.

He had considered simply killing Zhou Quan outright.

But that was not safe.

So—

Zhang Fusheng strode into the Martial Arts Hall and headed straight for the fourth floor, where only the School Master's disciples were permitted.

"First, find a powerful backer."

"Then kill Zhou Quan."