Mockery and Betrayal
Only the monotonous echo of rain tapping on the glass remained in the study, along with a silence colder than the rain itself. K had already prepared a satellite-encrypted phone; the device, through several relays and disguises, would ultimately display a random business number located on the East Coast. He handed the phone to Lin Feng, who was standing by the window.
Lin Feng took the heavy, matte black communicator. The cold metallic touch came through his palm. He didn't dial immediately, but instead rubbed the smooth frame with his thumb, his gaze piercing through the rain, as if he could see dozens of miles away, to that land that was legally part of the country, yet was already riddled with traps.
His face remained expressionless, only his eyes, illuminated by the gray daylight outside the window, appeared unfathomably deep.
A few seconds later, he dialed a number he knew by heart. It was the personal cell phone number that Old Johnson had personally given him after the signing dinner, ostensibly to facilitate communication regarding the ranch handover. At the time, the other party's smile was warm, even carrying a hint of solemn entrustment.
The call connected. There was no usual ringtone, only a few short, faint electronic beeps after an encrypted handshake. Then, a voice came through the receiver.
The background noise was somewhat chaotic, with the clinking of glasses, muffled laughter, and soothing jazz music faintly audible—it didn't feel like a ranch, but more like a club, upscale restaurant, or private retreat. A voice, clearly intoxicated but still recognizable as Old Johnson's, drifted over, its tone exaggeratedly enthusiastic, even more so than at the ranch, yet tinged with a greasy and hypocritical air.
"Hey! Hello? Who is this? Oh--wait, let me guess, at this hour... could it be our big buyer from afar, Mr. Lin? What, you've only been here a few days and you're already missing the air of Eagle Creek, or perhaps you're craving our Apple? Haha!"
This opening remark made K's brow furrow almost imperceptibly. It was too deliberate, so deliberate it bordered on the performance.
Lin Feng spoke into the microphone, his tone calm and composed. "Andy, it's me. Regarding the agreement, there are some terms I need to confirm with you again."
"Agreement? Terms?" Old Johnson's voice paused, and the background noise seemed to subside, as if he had moved to a relatively quiet corner. Then, his exaggerated enthusiasm receded like a tide, replaced by a deliberately controlled tone, a mixture of impatience and arrogance.
"Mr. Lin, the agreement was finalized word by word by both parties' lawyers, and you personally signed it. It's in black and white, and has legal effect. What else is there to 'confirm'? We United States value the spirit of contracts the most; once we sign, we accept it."
"The spirit of contract also includes honest disclosure and fair trade." Lin Feng's tone remained calm, revealing no emotion. "Some clauses in Annexes Seven and Eleven have too much room for interpretation and are inconsistent with the intentions expressed in previous communications. I think we need to discuss how to make a supplementary agreement to clarify the true intentions of both parties and avoid future misunderstandings."
There was a silence of about two or three seconds on the other end of the phone. Then, Old Johnson let out an undisguised, mocking laugh.
"Ha! A supplementary agreement? A clear statement of intent?" His voice suddenly rose, filled with undisguised contempt and mockery, all pretense shattered in that instant. "Lin, my dear little friend from the East, haven't you figured out the situation yet?"
His speech quickened, each word like a nail dipped in venom:
"Do you think this is some kind of marketplace where you can come and go as you please? This is America! This is Washington State! This is Skagit County! Eagle Creek Ranch has been the territory of the Johnson Family Clan for 120 years! The contract in black and white is the law here!"
You're just a country bumpkin from Great East who got off the plane a few days ago, with a few bucks in your pocket that you don't even know where you got them from. You really think you can get by here? 'Talk'? You're not worthy!"
Vicious insults rained down like hailstones. "Great East country bumpkin," he repeated in an extremely insulting tone.
Lin Feng held the phone without interrupting, his face remaining completely expressionless, but his eyes turned icy cold, like a frozen lake.
Old Johnson seemed to enjoy this one-sided verbal thrashing. He took a breath and continued in that nauseating, victorious tone of mockery:
"Can't understand the contract? No problem, my lawyer will teach you. You think there are traps in the terms? Yes, there are traps, so what? You were stupid to sign it! Now the money is almost in my account, and you're only now thinking to look at the terms? Too late, my dear Asia Monkey!"
He uttered the racially discriminatory and extremely insulting term "Asia Monkey" with ease and malice.
"And you're still bringing up the intentions we discussed before? Intentions? Hahaha!" Old Johnson let out a piercing laugh, accompanied by low chuckles from others in the background.
"That was all a show to make you, this stupid big fish, take the bait! Including my silly daughter Emily, do you really think she'd be interested in a yellow-skinned Monkey like you?"
It was all just to lower your guard; I played along with you, you self-righteous fool, and put on a few heartwarming family dramas!
She complained a lot when she got back, saying she was sick of seeing your fake smile! So, how did it feel to be fooled? Don't you think you're incredibly clever and charming? Hahahaha!
The unbridled laughter came through the receiver, particularly jarring. Not only was it fraudulent, but the previous kindness and interpersonal interaction were completely degraded into a despicable scam. Even his own daughter was implicated in a dishonorable role, all for the sake of adding a vicious pleasure to trampling on the other party's dignity in the act of betrayal.
Lin Feng listened in silence, only his knuckles turning slightly white from gripping the phone so tightly.
Old Johnson finished laughing, and his tone returned to its cold and arrogant state, carrying a blatant threat:
"I'll gladly accept the money. Twenty-eight million is enough for my whole family to have a nice vacation, and for my son to buy some decent property in Seattle. As for Eagle Creek? It'll always belong to the John family! If you know what's good for you, you'll just swallow this bitter pill and get lost. If you're not happy..."
He deliberately dragged out the tone, full of the cruelty of a cat toying with Rat:
"If you're not satisfied, then sue me! Sue me in the Skagit County Court! Let's see if your legal team from the Great East is more powerful, or if the Johnson Family Clan's connections in this area, built up over 120 years, are stronger!"
Let's see if the judges there will believe you, this cunning Asia conman, or me, a decent person who has lived here for generations, paid taxes, and contributed to the community!
I can even tell you in advance that you won't even win the lawsuit. You'll be legally evicted from that land for "breach of contract" and won't get a single penny back! That's reality, kid. Welcome to United States, welcome to the adult world, Great East bumpkin!
After saying that, he seemed too lazy to waste any more words, and hung up the phone without even saying goodbye.
"Beep--Beep--Beep--"
The busy signal came through, short and cold, echoing in the silent study like a series of silent slaps against the lingering echo of the vicious insult.
Lin Feng slowly put down the satellite phone. His arm moved steadily, without the slightest tremor. He handed the phone back to K, who had been standing respectfully to his side with his hands at his sides.
His face remained devoid of rage, humiliation, or astonishment. Those intense emotions seemed to be completely frozen by an extremely cold shell, sinking to the deepest part without leaking out in the slightest.
Only his eyes were more somber and colder than the leaden sky outside the window, as if a black storm was silently brewing, swirling, and compressing in his unfathomable pupils, finally condensing into a sharp, piercing glint.
He said nothing. There was no cursing, no throwing things, not even a noticeable change in his breathing.
But K, standing to his side and slightly behind, clearly felt that the temperature of the surrounding air seemed to drop several degrees as soon as the phone call ended.
A silent yet chilling sense of oppression spread from Lin Feng. It wasn't an outburst of anger, but something far more terrifying—absolute coldness, and beneath that coldness, a destructive decision was being triggered.
K took the phone and gently placed it on the table beside him, as if it were a dangerous explosive. He looked at Lin Feng, awaiting instructions, his body already on high alert.
Lin Feng turned away, no longer looking at the suffocating rain outside the window. He walked behind his desk, sat down in his high-backed chair, his movements still steady. His gaze fell on the spread-out copy of the contract marked with countless red traps on the table, and on the photograph of Old Johnson with a "generous and open" smile printed on the property documents.
A few seconds of absolute stillness.
Then, he raised his eyes and looked calmly at K. Beneath that calm was a frozen volcano, a thunderbolt gathering in its depths.
"K." He spoke, his voice not loud, even more steady than when he was on the phone, but every syllable was like a tempered steel ball, cold, hard, and resounding.
"Boss," K replied immediately, leaning forward slightly.
Lin Feng's gaze swept over the contract, over the window, and finally landed on a point in the void, as if it had pierced through the walls, the city, and the rain curtain, locking onto that land of betrayal in the distance, and the despicable family on that land who were raising their glasses in celebration.
He slowly and clearly gave the instructions:
"Let ABZ do the work."