BPIFC -Volume 1 – Chapter 173 Expenses

“What is this thing, a chess piece?” The old man took the black jade button, looked at it a couple of times, and then returned it to Sun Desheng.

“It’s not worth much. Bureau Chief Sun, did you pick this up at Panjiayuan? Feels like neither plastic nor stone… more like glass bottle slag.”

Seeing that Kong Dalong didn’t recognize the origin of the black jade button, Sun Desheng smiled and put it away. He was about to ask more about the noodle-eating man’s background when the Investigation Bureau’s car arrived to pick him up.

It wasn’t appropriate to talk in front of outsiders, so Sun Fatty could only first help Che Qianzi into the car. He then invited the old man to come sit at his place.

Kong Dalong smiled and shook his head. “I still have something to take care of. Tell Che Qianzi I’ll visit him in a few days after I’m done. I even brought him a good gift this time.”

Sun Desheng originally wanted to drive him part of the way, but the old man refused, saying they were not going in the same direction—it was only a five-minute walk for him anyway.

Helpless, Sun Desheng let the driver leave. As the car turned the corner and disappeared, a night wind blew past, lifting Kong Dalong’s coat.

Inside, his clothes were lined neatly with a row of buttons—identical black jade buttons to the one in Sun Desheng’s hand…

By the time Che Qianzi came to, it was already morning. He slowly got out of bed, still groggy. He had no memory of what happened after entering the noodle shop last night. It felt like he followed Sun Fatty into a small noodle place, but everything after that was a complete blank.

Seeing Sun Desheng also getting up to use the bathroom, he quickly asked, “Fatty, how did I get back last night? I can’t remember anything. Did we get into a fight? My head feels like it’s about to explode…”

“Brother, you just blacked out,” Sun Desheng said with a grin. “Last night I took you for cold noodles to sober you up, and you just collapsed there.”

He opened the fridge and handed Che Qianzi a bottle of honey water. “Your sister-in-law prepared this for us to sober up. I’m telling you, you can’t drink like that. Zhang the Stutterer built up his tolerance over time—you trying to compete with him is pointless.”

Che Qianzi drank the honey water and felt much better.

Seeing him recover, Sun Desheng chuckled. “Go get ready. I just spoke with Ren Rong. We’re heading to Hangzhou. Old Huang that sly fox said he was going to visit elders, but after leaving the restaurant last night, he went straight to the airport to take his private jet to Hangzhou.”

Che Qianzi remembered Wu Rendi’s instructions about the black jade button and scratched his head. “We really going? Isn’t it too late now? That fat Huang is rich—he could’ve checked everything overnight.”

“Not necessarily,” Sun Desheng grinned. “He did get on a private jet—but it malfunctioned and couldn’t take off. Every ticket to Hangzhou—flights and trains—sold out today. He couldn’t get a single seat, so he had no choice but to drive overnight. Too bad he hit massive traffic jams and is still stuck on the highway.”

Che Qianzi couldn’t believe it. “Private jet broke down… flights and trains sold out… and he still got stuck in traffic? What kind of terrible luck is that? That’s basically cursed…”

“That’s because he ran into me, his natural nemesis,” Sun Desheng said smugly.

He pulled out a strange metal part from his bag and tossed it to Che Qianzi. “This little thing here? Without it, the plane couldn’t take off. Then I bought up every flight and train ticket to Hangzhou and nearby areas. And just to make sure he wouldn’t get bored on the road, I arranged over a hundred cars to join his traffic jam. He’ll be lucky if he reaches Hangzhou by tonight.”

Che Qianzi stared at him in shock. “How does a brain like yours even work? Where do you come up with all these evil ideas? Fatty… you weren’t born this wicked, were you?”

“Pfft, who are you calling wicked?” Sun Desheng snorted. “Listen, I’ll never scheme against you. And neither against La Zi, Director Wu, or even Lin Cuo over in America—you guys are safe.”

Right then, his phone buzzed.

After reading the message, Sun Desheng suddenly slumped onto the sofa, his face full of distress.

“Not even half a day… five million already spent… you old bastard, what are you doing? Even a month in Heaven-on-Earth wouldn’t cost that much…”

Che Qianzi leaned over. “Five million? Heaven-on-Earth? What old bastard are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Sun Desheng forced a smile. “Just some immortal old geezer borrowed my money. Spent five million in half a day. Luckily your brother has some savings, it’s nothing serious…”

Before he finished speaking, his phone rang again.

After checking it, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

He immediately called his bank.

“I’m Sun Desheng… yes, I know how much was spent. What do you mean? I spent it at Heaven-on-Earth for a yearly package—who are you to question me?”

“I want to raise my limit… to one hundred million.”

“Bullshit money laundering? Your whole family launders money!”

After hanging up, Sun Desheng took a deep breath and smiled bitterly at Che Qianzi.

“Money comes and goes, life is peaceful. Let’s go, I’ve arranged a plane…”

Then he paused.

“…Wait, I need to make another call.”

He dialed again.

“I’m canceling the private jet… I’m going green now. Just book a normal flight… economy class is fine.”

“And cancel the West Lake State Guesthouse too. A Home Inn will do.”

In the end, Sun Desheng and Che Qianzi flew to Hangzhou on a low-cost airline.

Since teaming up with Sun Fatty, this was the first time Che Qianzi had ever traveled so… modestly.

On the way, Che Qianzi kept asking what exactly was going on, but Sun Desheng refused to explain, always changing the subject.

“La Zi’s father-in-law has a birthday these two days. He’ll only arrive later. Once he’s here, our hard times will be over. He’s got plenty of savings.”

Che Qianzi looked at him and said, “Fatty, I’ve got some money too. Fifty gold ingots in the bank—take it and use it first.”

Then he added, “Just tell me honestly… did your wife file for divorce? Did you keep a mistress outside? Tch—scumbag.”