Millionaires craned their necks to squeeze into the circle of multimillionaires, multimillionaires thought about taking it a step further on the hundred-foot pole to clink glasses with billionaires, billionaires wanted to share wealth and glory with those who held the power of life and death in politics. The business world, the political arena, and the underground world that couldn't be seen in public wove together into a hierarchical city with different levels of gates, where those inside experienced bittersweet joy and sorrow, no one could say for sure whether it was good fortune or disaster, but outside the city walls were always crowded with successors tiptoeing and stretching their necks to gaze.
One evening, three women won 700,000 from Zhūyèqīng. In Zhūyèqīng's eyes, one was no cleaner than a chicken, fond of keeping a young pretty boy as a lover for a month; another ugly woman with a pig-like head on her shoulders only knew about money and disowned her relatives, taking great pleasure in buying insurance boxes one after another to fill them up with cash. And the last one was actually an intelligent woman but too cunning, ending up being detestable.
Watching Zhūyèqīng play mahjong, she loses more often than wins. To be exact, having watched her play nearly a thousand rounds, the number of times she's won might not even add up to ten. For Zhūyèqīng, winning money at mahjong is much easier than losing it, because losing money is an art that requires great skill and strategy, just like playing Go without letting your opponent win by a single move. The women who sit at her mahjong table are all wealthy, and winning a small amount of money is only secondary to the thrill of outmaneuvering each other. Zhūyèqīng needs to lose, and lose in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. Mēngchōng knows that if someone can make Zhūyèqīng win money, it means they've been taken into her confidence as a friend. The word "friend" is tossed around carelessly in society, but for Zhūyèqīng, it's a rare and precious thing. Mēngchōng has toiled away for nearly ten years, sacrificing himself for her without daring to call himself her confidant, content only to be considered one of her loyal followers.
Zhu Ye Qing sent the three women out, returned to the living room, and let Meng Chong take out a jug of wine. She had never drunk Maotai or Wuliangye in her life, not even a drop of the finest liquor, only drinking a kind of handcrafted Zhu Ye Qing. Outsiders might think it's unrefined, but she was particular about that flavor. Taking a small sip, sitting on a Huang Yang wood chair, "Zhao Kun Peng, alias Xiong Zi, can fight, really can fight. There's a relatively reliable rumor that an old man in the Nanjing Military Region wants to send him to the 38th Army Division in Beijing. That old man must have truly taken a liking to him, otherwise Zhao Lao Ye wouldn't have such great influence in Shanghai after retiring for so many years. To put it simply, I don't understand why this future big shot is like a blind black bear, insisting on not getting along with that unremarkable stray dog, offending fate?"
Meng Chong smiled and said, "Since it's a black-hearted person, there's no need to talk about reason. China has many people and officials, so it produces a large number of second- and third-generation descendants. With the same rice, you can raise 100 different kinds of people. If Shanghai can produce a few young people like Fang Yiming who are sinister and cunning, then it can also produce some reckless youths like Zhao Kunpeng who don't consider the consequences. Otherwise, if everyone were as treacherous as Fang Yiming or as wasteful as Hu Xiaohua, Shanghai would be too boring."
Zhu Ye Qing nodded, glanced at the bald-headed man with a rough appearance but a soft Suzhou accent, and said: "Meng Chong, it seems you're quite concerned about Chen."
He patted the bald head and smiled: "I like his name, Chen Erdou."
Zhu Ye Qing took small sips of the strong liquor from the wine jug, which was not intense at first but started to burn after entering her lungs. After putting down the jug, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and the bright red lip print stood out even more. She said, "I originally thought this guy could still rely on some luck and cleverness to climb his way up in Shanghai for a few years, reaching a mediocre position. When he fell, he might not die, at most becoming half-crippled. Then, either he would rise again with minor success or completely fall apart and become useless. I didn't expect someone like Zhao Kunpeng to appear so soon. A strong dragon can't defeat a local snake, let alone a weak and harmless Northeastern wild chicken like him, how could he possibly fight against a local snake?"
"Should I secretly intervene and control the situation to prevent loss of life? Also, let Chen Er Gou suffer a great loss without being too seriously injured, so that he still has a chance to rise again."
"He's not worth your trouble, a small person's life should have the demeanor of a small person, and be prepared to be trampled on and spat upon. If you intervene, the flavor will change, Er Guo Tou is not high-end, but at least it can be drunk, while mixing in wine from a big brand winery makes it neither donkey nor horse."
Zhu Ye Qing shook his head and directly rejected Meng Chong's proposal, muttering: "However, some men's spines can be bent but not broken. I've seen one in my lifetime, and I'd like to see a second."
——————————————
To onlookers, those ordinary people who are busy but achieve nothing in life are always laughable. The 17th-century French writer Molière once pointed out in his book "The Book of Wisdom", "Half the world is laughing at the other half. In fact, the whole world is foolish." A white-collar worker who earns one or two thousand yuan a month looks down on construction workers or street cleaners. Office workers who enjoy air conditioning look down on salespeople who run around in the sun and rain all day. The wealthy elite despise the complacent and unambitious middle class. Those at the top of the wealth pyramid secretly laugh at their hardworking colleagues. In the eyes of a bear, Chen Erdou's life is absurd and humble. A young man from a small town in Northeast China came to the city and first worked as a waiter in a small restaurant. Then he got lucky and became a security guard, earning five or six thousand yuan a month. It was said that he even attended university lectures for four hours every day. But what does this count as? Struggling or striving? The bear looked at the words "thick accumulation" and felt it was ironic. Thick accumulation - do you need to work hard for ten years, twenty years, or even a lifetime? Thin - how thin is it? A monthly salary of over 10,000 yuan, owning a house in Shanghai, or marrying a local woman?
The little guy should die.
Especially the ambitious little roles. It is precisely this kind of ignorant and arrogant guy who makes a big city smoggy. Xiongzi didn't rush to knock Chen Erdou down. He doesn't deny that this young man is much more interesting than ordinary farmers who come to the city to bury their heads and dig for gold. Smart. Can also be cruel. Knows how to endure at critical moments. Xiongzi even occasionally thought that if this person was born in a high-ranking courtyard, after ten or twenty years of tempering, he might become the second Fang Yiming in Shanghai. But this would make him more deserving of death.
"Kneel down one more time," said Xiongzi with a smile. "Maybe I'll take pity on you and let you off."
Chen Ergou rolled up his sleeves. On his arm, a knife handle was tied with a rope, and the blade was stained with bloodstains. This man, who had cut open the belly of a mountain goat, a wild boar, and even a black bear, stared at Zhao Kunpeng with dead eyes. One word at a time came out from between his teeth. "I expected this day would come. Today, I won't let you off without shedding some blood. If I don't, I won't be able to face my grandfather who helped me dig that grave."
