"F-fifty taels!" Old Zhang's voice was already thick with tears. "Gang Leader Wang, our establishment doesn't earn much in an entire year."
"It's not about the silver, Proprietor Zhao." Gang Leader Wang sighed. "Our gang's protector died in your establishment, and we haven't received the slightest accounting. How do you think our brothers will feel whenever they see this building of yours?"
Did fifty taels of silver not count as an accounting?
Old Zhang thought it, but dared not speak.
Steward Chai interjected from beside him, "Actually, this is easily resolved. Our brothers feel that an outsider's establishment caused our protector's death, so some anger and troublemaking are inevitable. But if the restaurant became our own, naturally they wouldn't feel that way anymore."
Wang Shou nodded and smiled. "In that case, there'd be no need to investigate the case in this restaurant, either."
Old Zhang looked at the two men. In that instant, blood seemed to rush to his head. He wanted to throw everything aside and curse them both without a care, but then his mind reeled, and he wanted simply to collapse and let them plunder as they pleased.
The two impulses fought in his mind, and the longer it went on, the farther the first receded.
Perhaps it was some instinct for self-preservation.
Under the pressure of their gazes, Old Zhang's deathly pale face grew whiter by degrees. His lips worked, fear, anger, and panic filling his heart. His legs could barely support him anymore.
From beginning to end, he had never dared take out the written order Bai Sibing had given him, as though he had forgotten it existed.
A strong hand caught his arm and lifted him a little.
The young man looked around. "Is it up to you whether this case gets investigated?"
Wang