Chapter 122: Compensation
"Oh! The young master finally decided to come out." Hearing that voice, Sheng Yang immediately knew who had come to cause trouble today.
"Huang Yourui! You actually dared to show up in front of me!" The sight of the person who had deceived him ignited Sheng Yang's temper again. He stepped forward, intent on grabbing Huang Yourui by the collar, but felt a restraining hand on his arm—Yun Zijin stopped him.
"The one who strikes first is never in the right," she reminded him softly. Current laws were quite strict; whoever threw the first punch would be at a disadvantage if this turned into a legal matter. Sheng Yang, though seething, listened to her and managed to hold back.
"Alright then," he hissed, trying to calm himself. "Tell me who sent you here and why. I've only just opened this bar—who did I bother?"
Huang Yourui scoffed. "Who else could it be? I just don't like you. I don't want you running a bar. Hear me loud and clear: as long as your bar stays open, I'll come make trouble every day!" He spat the words, looking obstinate. Even so, he hadn't fully committed to trashing the place yet. He still hesitated, wondering if there was a better approach.
Sheng Yang clenched his fists. "So you're bent on going against me, huh?"
Just then, Yun Zijin spoke, her tone calm: "Huang Yourui, 27 years old, single-parent family, mother hospitalized long-term—monthly bills around fifty thousand. You couldn't earn that with a regular job, so you resorted to shady methods.
You tricked Sheng Yang once for money, presumably to cover your mother's expenses. After that, you kept making up excuses to borrow from Sheng Yang. You never returned any of it—some you converted into valuables and resold. I actually admire your filial piety, but it's wrong to cheat people for cash and then harm them further."
Throughout her explanation, Huang Yourui kept trying to interrupt, but Lingyi prevented him from doing so. As Zijin's words continued, he glowered at her, as if his gaze could slice her to pieces.
"What do you know!" he barked. "You people born with a silver spoon have no idea how the rest of us suffer!" Years earlier, when his mother first got sick, he'd been a fresh college grad, his dad an alcoholic who couldn't help.
So he needed fifty thousand a month just to keep his mother's treatment going, and he saw no alternative but to exploit a gullible rich kid—Sheng Yang. "All I did was get back a fraction of what you rich capitalists owe normal people like us," he spat inwardly.
Seeing Huang Yourui's anger, Su Mengyao feared Sheng Yang might grow sympathetic. She cut in, "Your hardship isn't Sheng Yang's fault. If you needed help, you could have asked him to put you in touch with the Sheng family's charity. So let me ask you: did every cent you took from him actually go to your mother's bills?"
Her words snapped Sheng Yang out of a moment of pity. "Right," he said. "If you dare swear every yuan went to your mom, I'd still treat you like a man." Truth be told, the sums he'd given, whether as gifts or valuables, easily exceeded the monthly medical bills. More than once he'd handed over half a million in a single go—looking back, he felt like an idiot.
He waited, but Huang Yourui didn't respond. "He gave me that money voluntarily," the man said at last. "It's my business how I spend it." That alone proved he hadn't spent it all on his mother's care, so the claim of being purely filial was hollow.
"Whether it was voluntary or not, let's set that aside," Zijin interjected. "Right now, you came here to stir up trouble, damaging the bar's normal operations. Are you going to compensate us for the loss, or face legal action? For instance," she pointed, "this table is a rare custom piece Sheng Yang bought from a local carpenter.
The craftsman said the wood was so unique he'd never make another one, so if you've damaged it, you'll have to pay. And that broken bottle of 2010 Latour—8888 per bottle. How many did you knock over? …"
As she rattled off items, enumerating them without pause, Huang Yourui's face turned paler by the second. "Oh," Zijin added, "I forgot to mention: my share in this bar includes a top-tier mini camera system with absolute HD and clear sound. Everything you did just now got recorded, so if you don't pay for these damages and the associated losses, we can sue you.
I'm even willing to let the matter drop if you compensate the bar's operational losses. The total is two million, eight hundred seventy-five thousand, three hundred seventy-four. Pay that within three days, we won't pursue legal charges. If not, we won't be merciful, and don't think you can run away—we'll find you."
"That's extortion!" Huang Yourui yelled. He couldn't believe the figure she'd stated—over two million for a few broken things?
"Call it what you like," Zijin said calmly. "Feel free to bring in your own appraiser. That might yield an even higher total, plus intangible damages. Right now, I'm being merciful. I haven't asked for mental suffering fees or lost business time." She paused. "By the way, who asked you to do this? Think about it carefully. If someone put you up to it, they might help you pay. Otherwise, you're a fool being used by a bigger fish."
Hearing that, Huang Yourui whipped his head up. How did she know…? But Zijin merely offered him a cryptic smile. The gentler her expression, the more goosebumps he felt.
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