Duan Shanhu's underlings sat at the dining table, frozen stiff. They stared at Lin Fan, who was currently enjoying his meal. This was the legendary Zhu Fei, Fei Ge? He truly lived up to his reputation.
Zhu Fei's exploits were widely circulated in the underworld, but few had ever seen him in person. If not for this negotiation, they likely wouldn't have had this opportunity.
Impassive as a mountain. This kind of composure wasn't something ordinary people possessed. Some of the younger gangsters compared Lin Fan to Duan Shanhu and found their own boss lacking in comparison to Fei Ge's handsomeness. These thoughts, however, remained internalized. They dared not utter them aloud.
"Finished eating?" Duan Shanhu lit a cigarette, leaned back in his chair, and squinted at Lin Fan. "What's he playing at?" he wondered.
Lin Fan replied, "Not yet. But why aren't you eating? Does the food not suit your taste, or are you already full? If you're not going to eat, I'll have to finish it all myself. After all, wasting food is shameful."
Duan Shanhu wanted to lash out, but Eighth Master's look told him to hold back, to stay calm. Although he didn't know the specifics of the situation, his goal was to make Zhu Fei understand: I want my territory.
The underlings exchanged glances and then began to eat. Then, a thought struck Duan Shanhu. This was a negotiation. Zhu Fei hadn't wasted any breath on discussion; instead, he'd ordered food. Was he treating this meal as a stand-in for the territory? He looked at Lin Fan and said in a low voice, "Eat up, everyone."
Lin Fan smiled. If he had to, he could certainly finish all the food himself, but he preferred to share.
Eighth Master was a respected elder, well-versed in the ways of the underworld. With their boss's order, the underlings had no choice but to obey. Honestly, the food was delicious. Perhaps this was the kind of fine dining only bosses got to enjoy.
"Tastes great," one mumbled.
I don't get it. They were supposed to be negotiating, but now they were just stuffing their faces. Not a word about business. What was the point of the invitation?
But now… he realized that the games young people played these days were baffling.
It was all because of Eighth Master's presence. Although aged, Eighth Master still carried the aura of a former overlord. Fei Ge was someone who wouldn't back down, even to a senior figure. He had to assert dominance.
Wang Meng idolized Fei Ge. He remained vigilant, scanning their surroundings. Although everyone was just eating, the atmosphere was tense, pregnant with the possibility of conflict. He had to admit, Fei Ge had a particularly domineering air about him today.
He knew…
As the food disappeared from the plates, Lin Fan stood up and smiled. "Thanks for the meal. I'll be going now."
This is the boss I admire!
Just as Wang Meng was about to reach for his gun, he saw Fei Ge's smile. That smile stopped him in his tracks. Fei Ge was truly Fei Ge. Even with a gun pointed at his head, he remained calm. This level of composure was beyond Wang Meng's reach.
Despite his cold demeanor, Wang Meng was actually quite the flatterer. He was full and satisfied. These people were good; they'd treated him to a meal. In his mind, they couldn't be truly bad people.
Duan Shanhu stood up furiously, pulled out his gun, and pointed it at Lin Fan. He snarled, "Don't you dare move! I don't care what you're thinking. If you don't give me an explanation today, you're not walking out of here."
Another person pointing a black lump of metal at me. He'd been on the receiving end twice before.
It was strange, but he didn't feel much.
Silence descended. Everyone was stifled by the sudden shift in atmosphere.
Eighth Master inwardly cursed. He was here for a free meal and to bask in the respect of the younger generation. Now, this idiot had pulled a gun, disrupting everything. What if it went off and he got hurt?
Ignoring Eighth Master, Duan Shanhu roared at Lin Fan, "Stop playing dumb! Are we negotiating or not?"
"You seem agitated," Lin Fan said calmly. He could see that the man who'd invited him to dinner was on edge, his mental state volatile. He walked towards Duan Shanhu.
Duan Shanhu's gun-wielding pose was undeniably cool. Zhu Fei's calm demeanor, however, was unexpected.
"If you have any problems, you can tell me. I'm willing to help," Lin Fan offered gently.
The room was silent.
Duan Shanhu kept his gun trained on Lin Fan. Any sudden movement would result in a bullet.
Lin Fan stood before him, a head taller. He reached out and gently stroked Duan Shanhu's head. "Relax," he said softly. "Don't be agitated. You're a good person. Your heart is a little troubled right now. Is something bothering you?"
The onlookers stared in disbelief. Zhu Fei was patting Duan Shanhu's head like a child. They were dumbfounded.
What the hell?
"But he's become even more domineering," Wang Meng muttered to himself.
Duan Shanhu's underlings watched their boss being patted on the head, feeling their own faces burn with shame. Boss, fight back! If you let him keep doing this, you'll lose all face!
Fei Ge has become a stranger to me.
Shoot him! Kill him! One voice screamed in Duan Shanhu's head.
But another voice whispered… If you shoot him, you won't be any better off.
"Do you really think I won't shoot?" Duan Shanhu roared. He was a boss, a leader. Now he was being patted on the head like a child. He'd lost all face. The gun in his hand was his last shred of hope. A voice in his heart urged him: Shoot him! Kill him! Then everything will be yours!
Lin Fan patted Duan Shanhu's shoulder. "Don't be nervous. Relax."
This good man in front of him had clearly suffered some kind of blow, leaving him in a fragile mental state.
His hand trembled around the gun.
Shoot! Prove your courage to everyone!
It was unimaginable. Who was Duan Shanhu? A ruthless man, known for his brutality. He never showed mercy to his enemies. Now, they were witnessing someone even more ferocious.
Even with a gun pointed at his head, he remained unfazed, even comforting Duan Shanhu and encouraging him to shoot. This was insane!
Duan Shanhu's face contorted, his eyes bulging, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked like he wanted to devour Lin Fan whole. He felt utterly humiliated.
"Impressive," Eighth Master thought, admiring the audacity. The younger generation was truly something. A figure like this, in their time, would have been a legend.
A tense silence hung in the air.
Finally, reason triumphed over impulse. Faced with the fearless Lin Fan, Duan Shanhu could only concede. The endless humiliation…
If Lin Fan knew what Duan Shanhu was thinking, he would have reassured him, Don't overthink it. I truly don't mean to humiliate you.
The underlings stole glances at Lin Fan, a flicker of awe in their eyes.
"Fine, you win. But remember this, this isn't over," Duan Shanhu spat, gesturing for his men to leave.
They had witnessed the most domineering display of power they could imagine. This was true leadership.
They used to admire Duan Shanhu, especially when he stood on a table in a bar and roared, "Tonight's drinks are on me, Duan Ye!"
But this… this was on a whole other level.
The staff of Ju Xian Lou watched from a distance as the group departed. These were people you didn't cross.
Wang Meng followed respectfully behind Lin Fan, his heart pounding with excitement.
"The younger generation is truly remarkable," Eighth Master praised.
"Thank you," Lin Fan replied with a smile.
This scene deserved an award for best drama. If he were a director, he would have immortalized it on film.
But as Zhu Fei left, he simply smiled at him, without so much as a, "Eighth Master, would you like a ride?"
Eighth Master sighed. Young people these days were so lacking in manners. It was disappointing. He was a respected elder, after all. He had high hopes for Zhu Fei.
As he prepared to leave Ju Xian Lou, the manager hurried over, bowing obsequiously. "Eighth Master, have you finished your meal?"
Even though I wouldn't necessarily take your offer of a ride, you should still offer, he thought.
"Yes."
The manager hesitated, then said awkwardly, "Eighth Master, since you're leaving… perhaps you could settle the bill?"
"Yes," Eighth Master nodded.
"Eighth Master, you're leaving?" the manager asked again.
The meaning was clear: Pay up.
"What did you say?" Eighth Master's hearing wasn't what it used to be. He was prone to auditory hallucinations. And this certainly felt like one.
"Neither Master Duan nor Master Fei paid their bill," the manager explained.
"You know who I am, don't you?" Eighth Master asked.
The awkwardness thickened.
"Have the staff pack up the leftovers for me," Eighth Master said. My pension isn't that much.
He wanted to strangle them. They'd invited him to mediate, hadn't paid for the meal, and now expected him to foot the bill.
"Eighth Master, at most, we can offer a thirty percent discount," the manager said apologetically. It was a small business; they couldn't afford to lose money like this.
Eighth Master had been played.
You can't always count on sincerity, but you can always count on a good con.