"We're already here," Yǔ-péng murmured softly, more to himself than to her. "Might as well ask around."
A woman in her fifties, her hair tightly pinned and a cigarette dangling from her lips, glanced up from her magazine. Her gaze narrowed as Yǔ-péng approached.
"Fu Lanying?" he asked politely.
The woman exhaled a puff of smoke, studying him for a moment before responding with a slight shrug. "That old coot? He's in the back room, playing cards," she replied, jerking her thumb toward a beaded curtain at the rear of the mahjong house.
Yǔ-péng nodded in thanks and moved toward the curtain. As he parted the beads, the dim light from the back room spilled out, casting faint shadows on the worn floorboards.
There was Fu Lanying, sitting on a long sofa at the far side of the room, a mahjong tile in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
"Young Master Lài! Are you here for a second *ss-whooping?" Lanying grinned widely, his tone mocking but lighthearted. "You even brought your elder sister—she gonna run me over with that chair of hers?"
Yǔ-péng, maintaining his usual ease, glanced at his sister before giving a polite nod to Fu Lanying. He didn't sit, preferring to stand as he addressed the older man with a smile. "Uncle Fu, we've come to check on you. It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"It's been a while indeed. What's got you coming back?" Lanying asked, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Don't tell me it's another bet."
"I wish, Uncle. No, we just came to talk about some things."
Lanying raised an eyebrow, a sly smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He gestured at the space beside him, patting the seat. "Sit. You're making me nervous standing around like that."
Yǔ-péng chuckled and sat down, folding his hands neatly in his lap.
"Talk then," Lanying said, waving his hand lazily.
"My father's company, the one I'm taking over. It's in trouble. And I think you can help."
Lanying leaned forward, his gaze suddenly serious. He took a long drag on his cigarette, the smoke curling from his mouth like a dragon's breath, then exhaled slowly. "What kind of trouble?" he asked, his voice low.
"Financial. Dad's gambling habit. I'm afraid it's gotten worse," Yǔ-péng admitted, his expression tense.
Lanying let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Gambling, huh?" he murmured, shaking his head slightly.
"What can we do about it, Uncle Fu? You have connections, right?"
Lanying studied him, his gaze assessing. After a moment, he leaned back against the sofa, his fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm on his knee. "Maybe," he replied.
Mǐn-huá interjected, her annoyance rising. "You're mistaken, Uncle. It's my company he's talking about—the one I'm taking over."
Lanying's brow furrowed, his eyes darting between Yǔ-péng and Mǐn-huá. For a moment, the two stared at each other, the tension palpable, before Lanying broke into a laugh, his whole body shaking with the force of it.
"Your mother always knew how to pick them," he said, his tone a mixture of amusement and pit
Yǔ-péng gave him a withering look.
"I'll see what I can do, kid," Lanying continued, ignoring Yǔ-péng's glare. "But you have to know, these kinds of things take time."
"Time is the last thing we have," Yǔ-péng sighed. "We also need help with the media."
"You're a big boy. Do it yourself."
Yǔ-péng bristled slightly, his jaw tensing, but Mǐn-huá beat him to it, her tone sharp.
"If it were as easy as doing it myself, I wouldn't have dragged myself here." She rolled forward slightly, her gaze cutting through the haze of cigarette smoke. "But we need someone with real connections, someone who can keep things quiet and make sure no one snoops around."
Lanying chuckled again, the sound dry and humorless. He stubbed out his cigarette and rose to his feet, straightening his shirt. "You kids sure know how to lay it on thick. Come on, let's get some food. We'll talk while we eat."
Later, as they sat at a table in the restaurant next door, Lanying leaned forward, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Your dad's company is in deep shit, isn't it?"
Mǐn-huá shrugged, picking at the food on her plate.
"I can secure the necessary funds. However, I'll need collateral."
"Collateral? Like what?" Yǔ-péng frowned, concern knitting his brow.
"I don't know, maybe your sister's hand in marriage," Lanying suggested playfully.
"Hey!" Mǐn-huá protested.
Lanying laughed, slapping his thigh. "You should've seen your faces! Relax, I'm not going to marry her. I'm far too old to start a family, and I have no interest in women."
"Oh," Yǔ-péng paused, confusion mingling with surprise on his face.
"But seriously, I'm not going to lend you money without something substantial in return. You'll need to put something on the line."
"What do you want?" Mǐn-huá asked, her eyes narrowing.
"A favor. Something you'll have to do without excuse."
"A favor?" Mǐn-huá repeated, a flat tone betraying her skepticism.
"Precisely. No questions asked. Whatever I need, whenever I need it."
Mǐn-huá remained silent for a moment, her brow furrowed as she chewed on her lip. Finally, she nodded. "Deal."
"Good." Lanying's grin widened, taking on a suddenly predatory quality. "Now, here's what we're going to do..."
As the meal ended, Yǔ-péng glanced at his sister, his expression hesitant. "Are you sure about this?"
Mǐn-huá hesitated, her gaze lingering on the remnants of food on her plate. "It's just 20 shares of the company and 2,000 yuan," she murmured, almost to herself. "I'll figure it out."
Yǔ-péng frowned deeply, his concern growing. He paused, taking a shaky breath. "He wants us to harm a man with a gun. How are we supposed to get one with the strict gun laws? Paintball is one thing, but killing someone? We're not criminals."
"Were you even listening to him? He meant using an airsoft gun, not an actual firearm. Why would he risk facing severe legal consequences like capital punishment or a suspended death sentence?" she snapped, her tone laced with irritation.
"It's still illegal! Haven't you heard? The Ministry of Public Security has established strict new criteria classifying most toy guns as real firearms. Do you not pay attention to the news? Even paintball guns are considered firearms, and it's impossible to get a permit for them! We can't even have green gas canisters disassembled!"
Fu Lanying groaned loudly. "You're such a party pooper, you know? Your sister has more courage than you. If I asked her to smuggle a water pistol, she'd probably figure out how to make it look like an art project," he quipped, rolling his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, lighting another cigarette with deliberate slowness, letting the smoke drift lazily into the air.
"Sir, you're not allowed to smoke in here," a waitress said as she walked over, covering her nose.
Back at the mahjong house next door, where the national smoking ban was little more than an ignored suggestion, Fu Lanying had found a way to keep things running his way. There, in his own establishment, rules were selectively enforced—if at all.
Yǔ-péng watched as Lanying lazily put out his cigarette, giving the waitress a dismissive wave. "Fine, fine. No need to make a scene, little miss," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "Some people just don't know how to appreciate the finer things in life."
The waitress scowled but decided not to argue further. She retreated, muttering under her breath about entitled customers.
Yǔ-péng leaned toward Mǐn-huá , his voice low. "Are we really going to trust a man who blatantly ignores the law?"
"You're the one who suggested we go to him," Mǐn-huá reminded him, her eyes narrowing as she leaned back in her chair. "I'm not happy about it either, but right now, what choice do we have? He's the only one with the connections and the resources to help us. If we wait around for some other option, we'll lose everything."