Revised

Zhang Xianyang talked until his mouth was dry and spittle flew, then gulped down two large cups of herbal tea. He pulled out his phone and checked the time, only to find it was already five-thirty. Zhang Xianyang clicked his tongue inwardly. He had not expected this meal to last so long—it was practically on par with a standing committee meeting. He still had to treat all the employees to dinner at six-thirty, and he did not know whether he would make it in time. Fortunately, he had already asked Zhang Han to speak to Nightfall's manager. Even if he was not there, there would be no awkward situation where everyone arrived but was refused entry.

When they saw Zhang Xianyang take out his phone, the big shots all subconsciously checked the time as well. Only then did they realize it was indeed getting late. Zhang Xianyang had said everything he needed to say, and there was nothing left to discuss if they stayed. At Zhang Linmo's suggestion, everyone dispersed. In an instant, the fleet of black cars that had clogged traffic outside the restaurant scattered through the streets like streams of black floodwater. The group of grown men who had been waiting across the street for so long finally let out a breath. "They finally came out."

"I wonder what they were discussing to keep them there this late."

"All I know is that they were eating abalone and shark fin while we were here chewing tea eggs and instant noodles. Why do gangsters always live better than soldiers like us?"

"Because in the end, we get government benefits, while they all end up eating prison food."

"Bullshit. Those people have been running around the Old District for generations. Every one of them lives more grandly than the last."

"This time, their glory is probably over." One of the soldiers sneered. "They actually dared collude with the Japanese and sell out the country's interests. Neither the nation nor the people will let them off."

The black-clad man standing at the front, who had been staring at the entrance, said in a low voice, "Stop talking. The target has appeared."

Outside the restaurant, Zhang Xianyang looked apologetically at his father and two brothers. "It's the store's first day of business, and I promised the employees I'd celebrate with them. So I won't be going back with you yet."

Zhang Linmo frowned and instructed, "Don't drink."

Zhang Xianyang nodded. Zhang Muyang said uneasily, "It's too late. I'll have A-Qiang and A-Biao stay behind and look after you."

A-Qiang and A-Biao were Zhang Muyang's driver and bodyguard. Their positions were similar to Zhang Han and Li Zhuang's beside Zhang Xianyang. However, because of Zhang Muyang's sensitive status, the two of them were far more ruthless in both skill and temperament than Zhang Han and Li Zhuang. Rumor had it that they had once worked as international mercenaries and even made names for themselves. Unlike Zhang Xianyang's men, who only knew how to bluff but were actually softhearted, these two had blood on their hands.

Zhang Xianyang felt it was unnecessary. In this little patch of the Old District, who would dare do anything to the Zhang Family's Third Young Master? But the Zhang Family clearly did not see it that way. Even Zhang Linmo said gravely, "You just drew attention to yourself today. Someone is bound to dislike the sight of you. Better safe than sorry. Keeping A-Qiang and A-Biao by your side will be useful."

After a pause, Zhang Linmo added with slight displeasure, "Besides, it's already this late."

The Old Zhang Family's curfew was six in the evening. Although his eldest and second brothers sometimes returned later because they had gang business to handle, that leniency clearly did not apply to Zhang Xianyang. He was simply too weak. Even though he had improved somewhat under the Brain AI's forced training, Zhang Linmo still worried something might happen if Zhang Xianyang was alone outside. Some emergencies had nothing to do with fighting ability. They depended entirely on one's temperament.

Unfortunately, the Zhang Family clearly had little faith in Little Third Zhang's character. There was a saying on the streets that the Zhang men were all tigers, while Little Third Zhang alone was a paper tiger. Clearly, it was not merely a joke.

Knowing full well that his family was worried about him, Zhang Xianyang immediately accepted A-Qiang and A-Biao. He stood there and reassured the still deeply worried Zhang Linmo and the others a few more times. Only after watching them finally get into their cars and head home, with the accompanying convoy of bodyguard vehicles slowly departing as well, did Zhang Xianyang get into his car and order, "Nightfall."

With Zhang Han's driving skills, it took less than twenty minutes to get from the West District to Nightfall, the busiest nightclub in the East District. When Zhang Xianyang entered the lobby, he saw the flagship store employees gathered in a group, waiting there as though not everyone had arrived yet. Zhang Xianyang smiled faintly and was just about to greet them when someone called from behind, "Are you Zhang Xianyang, the Zhang Family's Third Young Master?"

Zhang Xianyang turned around. The man was about twenty-five or twenty-six, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. He was handsome, with an outstanding bearing. Every movement seemed to radiate the air of someone saying, "I'm not ordinary." Zhang Xianyang silently considered the man's accent, raised a brow, and said, "You're not from the Old District, are you?"

The newcomer nodded with a smile. "I'm from Yanjing. Could I have a few words with you in private, Third Young Master?"

Outside the lavish, extravagant revolving doors, a group of grown men who had just arrived stared darkly at Zhang Xianyang, who was chatting with someone in the center of the lobby. One of them said with a grim face, "Damn it, someone beat us to him!"

Author's note: Sob, sob. It crashed again. Since a little after eleven this morning, it took more than four hours just to upload a chapter. What kind of suicidal rhythm is this?

(:3"∠)

Revised

Inside the luxuriously decorated KTV private room, Zhang Xianyang sat on a large, soft black leather sofa with his arms folded. Zhang Han and Li Zhuang stood to his left and right, while A-Biao and A-Qiang stood properly on guard outside the door. The young man who claimed to be from Yanjing studied Zhang Xianyang for a long while. Growing impatient, Zhang Xianyang raised a brow. "What exactly do you want to say to me?"

The young man took a small booklet from his pocket, roughly the same size and type as a military officer's ID, and held it out to Zhang Xianyang. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gu Anming. I'm the director of the Third Division of the National Intelligence Bureau."

Zhang Xianyang did not even look at the identification offered before him. He yawned lazily and said casually, "There are plenty of places on the market that make fake IDs. A little booklet proves nothing. What's your purpose? Just say what you came to say."

Gu Anming gave a slight smile. "You're just as my uncle described you—just as impatient."

"Your uncle?" Zhang Xianyang carefully thought through the acquaintances around him with the surname Gu, then finally guessed with difficulty, "You're related to Mayor Gu?"

Gu Anming nodded. Zhang Xianyang glanced at the time and pressed on, "What exactly do you want from me? If you don't tell me soon, I'm leaving. I've got a whole bunch of people waiting for me outside."

Seeing Zhang Xianyang's hurried manner, Gu Anming stopped beating around the bush and said directly, "This concerns state secrets, so it was originally inconvenient to disclose it to outsiders like you. But my uncle has dealt with the Old Zhang Family and believes you are not the sort to betray the country's interests and become traitors. That is why I came to find you, Third Young Master. I hope you can work with us from within and without to completely eliminate this group of traitors who have sold out the country's interests."

As Gu Anming spoke, he took several photographs from inside his jacket and handed them to Zhang Xianyang. "The man in these photographs is Wang Zhaoyi. I assume Third Young Master is no stranger to him."

Zhang Xianyang took the photos in surprise. Wang Zhaoyi was indeed in them. Standing across from him was a man in a black suit and sunglasses, and the two were shaking hands. The following photos all showed Wang Zhaoyi together with that man. Their expressions were grave, their movements furtive. They obviously were not doing anything good.

Thinking of what Gu Anming had just said, Zhang Xianyang's heart sank.

Gu Anming continued, "Two years ago, a batch of precious cultural relics with immense collectible and research value was transported out of Guandong Province, passed through Guangzhou, arrived at Hong Kong Island, and was ultimately smuggled into Japan. After a thorough investigation by the Intelligence Bureau, we discovered that the original collector of these relics was Wang Qi, the Third Elder of the Old District Gang—"

Zhang Xianyang cut him off stiffly. "Watch your words. People from the Old District do not do business with Japanese devils."

Gu Anming frowned and took out several more photographs. "These were secretly taken by our intelligence personnel at a black-market auction in Japan. You can take a look and see if anything seems familiar."

Zhang Xianyang lowered his head in silence and looked through the photos spread across the glass coffee table. Most of them did look familiar. But he tried his best to persuade himself that most Qing Dynasty antiques looked more or less the same. Besides, because of the Old District's special geography and cultural environment, after the Qing Dynasty fell, the last emperor had still been held hostage by the Japanese and made that ridiculous attempt at restoration. Chuncheng still had a Manchukuo Imperial Palace left behind. So it was not strange for him to have seen those pots, bowls, and jars before—until he turned to a photo of a lemon-yellow famille rose relief floral-and-bird hexagonal vase and an Imperial Hetian Jadeite Thumb Ring...

Zhang Xianyang clearly remembered the few times he had visited Third Uncle Wang's home as a child. There had been exactly such a lemon-yellow famille rose relief floral-and-bird hexagonal vase in the middle of the living room. Elder Wang had even shown off that broken vase from the Yongzheng Era to him, along with that thumb ring, which had originally been worn on Elder Wang's hand. Zhang Xianyang had thought it fun back then and borrowed it to wear for a few days. Later...

Zhang Xianyang wiped the sweat from his forehead. He remembered that two years ago, when he had gone to Elder Wang's house as usual to offer New Year greetings, he had not seen the vase or thumb ring anymore. Elder Wang had said his little grandson had smashed them, and Zhang Xianyang had found it quite a pity. Still, he had not paid much attention to it. After all, he himself had broken more than one or two antiques growing up. In a place like the Old District, which household did not have a few old bottles and jars? And what child had not broken a few antiques while growing up? Otherwise, it hardly counted as having had a childhood.

But why had things that should have been smashed appeared at a black-market auction in Japan?

Zhang Xianyang felt a tightness in his chest. Irritably, he slammed the photos in his hand onto the coffee table and said coldly, "Do you know how many people from the Old District Gang died during the war of invasion? Do you know how deeply the people of the Old District hate the Japanese devils? For over a hundred years, there has not been a single Japanese company in a place as large as the Old District. Even during the Reform and Opening-Up, when we were attracting foreign investment, we would not let Japanese devils set foot on Old District soil. The first rule on the Old District streets is that you do not betray your ancestors and you do not do business with Japanese devils. Those bastards who were willing to become traitors for a bit of money had their entire families wiped out a hundred years ago. Not a single person in the Old District is a coward."

"You're slandering people from the Old District as traitors selling out their country on the strength of a few lousy photos. What the hell gives you the right?"

Watching Zhang Xianyang's agitated expression, Gu Anming frowned and said calmly, "Two years ago, a batch of antiques originally under Wang Qi's name was secretly smuggled into Japan. A year and a half ago, Old District Gang boss Wang Zhaoyi secretly purchased a batch of weapons worth seventy million yuan, then resold them to Iran. A year ago, Wang Zhaoyi imported large quantities of weapons from the United States into Guandong Province and seized West Street's territory in one stroke, thereby gaining influence in the Old District Gang..."

For some reason, Zhang Xianyang thought of his family's miserable fate in his previous life and immediately sneered. "It's only a few tens of millions. Which elder's family cannot afford that? Why go through all that trouble selling cultural relics?"

"When someone is determined to accuse you, they will always find an excuse. You people have always loved throwing dirt on us. This is hardly the first or second time."

Gu Anming paused, helpless in the face of Zhang Xianyang's loss of composure and stubbornness. He could only try his best to persuade him. "Then can Third Young Master explain why cultural relics that should have remained with the Wang Family in the Old District suddenly appeared at a black-market auction in Japan?"

Zhang Xianyang drained a glass of red wine in irritation and frowned. "I don't know. But I can tell you this: no matter how badly people from the Old District are doing, they would never trade with Japanese devils. Not in ordinary business, not in arms dealing, and certainly not in selling antiques."