Chapter 171: Ma San's Attitude

In the private box of the Guanghua Grand Theater, smoke curled.

Huang Genrong sat in the throne chair, his water pipe trembling in his hand. This gang boss who usually roamed the French Concession was truly panicked these past two days.

"Sir Huang," Zhang Tianlin said anxiously, rubbing his hands, "that Ma San is wandering around our territory with his men. What does that mean? Isn't the Axe Head Gang in the British Concession?"

Du Yusheng set down his teacup, his composure barely holding: "You've all heard about Shen Qingshan, right? Ten members of his family, all drowned in the river. This Ma San is Director Lin's man, he..."

"Director Lin?" Zhang Tianlin sneered, but his voice clearly trembled, "Isn't he just a..."

"Shut up!" Huang Genrong snapped, "If you want to die, don't drag us in! He's a warlord with tens of thousands of guns—how can he compare with us drifters?"

Zhang Tianlin immediately fell silent. Indeed, they were just local bullies who roamed the French Concession, but before a real power like Lin Yu, they were not even a fart.

"What do we do now?" Du Yusheng wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, "Ma San is about to move on our venues."

Huang Genrong took a deep breath: "What else can we do? Pay the proper tribute, retreat the territories we must. If Director Lin covets something, we have to hand it over obediently."

"But..." Zhang Tianlin still wanted to say something.

"But what?" Huang Genrong glared at him, "You want to emulate Shen Qingshan? He was a warlord, a high official of the court! What are we? Just a few thugs living off the French!"

The box fell silent. The three understood that before real power, their so‑called "tycoons" were not even a fart. If Lin Yu wanted to deal with them, it would be as easy as crushing a few ants.

"Here's what I think," Du Yusheng said softly, "we should send someone to see Ma San and show our attitude. When we need to bow, we bow."

Huang Genrong nodded: "Old Du is right. Staying alive is paramount; face is a fart! Shen Qingshan died for his face, and now everyone's being fed to the fish!"

The three exchanged glances, seeing fear in each other's eyes. This is reality: before true power, the so‑called three tycoons are just a few circus clowns.

Just as the three wore worried frowns, the box door was suddenly pushed open.

Ma San swaggered in, dressed in a black suit, his glossy top hat pulled low, a teasing smile on his face. He carried no weapons, yet his swagger and ferocity pressed the three to the point of breathlessness.

"Well now," Ma San said, sitting on the sofa by himself, "what are the three bosses discussing here? Let me have a listen?"

The atmosphere in the box froze instantly. The three tycoons who once commanded the French Concession now felt like ducks with their throats grasped, each daring not to breathe.

Huang Genrong was the first to react, forcing a smile: "Ma... Ma boss, you're joking. How could we compare to you? You're Director Lin's favorite, and we small players wouldn't dare call ourselves bosses before you."

Ma San pulled out a toothpick, tucked it in his mouth, squinting at the three: "Is that so? I've heard you three are big names in the French Concession."

"No, no," Du Yusheng quickly added, "we're just freeloader types, nothing compared to Ma boss. Look, any territory, venue, or business in the French Concession you want, the three of us will hand over in full. All we ask, Ma boss..."

"All you ask of me what?" Ma San asked with a smiling grin.

"All we ask... is that you don't wipe us out completely." Du Yusheng wiped his cold sweat.

Zhang Tianlin sat nearby, his fingers nearly crushing the armrest, yet he dared not speak. He had just thought of confronting Lin Yu, and now wouldn't even offend his dog.

"Ha," Ma San spat out the toothpick, "you are indeed sensible. But still..." He suddenly leaned close to the three, "Shen Qingshan was also overbearing at first, and what became of him?"

The three trembled all over, recalling the fate of Shen Qingshan's family.

"Don't worry," Ma San stood, smoothing his suit, "as long as you behave, I won't make things hard for you. But..." His gaze turned cold, "If I find out you collude with the Foreigners and try any tricks, don't blame me, Ma San, for showing no mercy!"

"No, no," Huang Genrong waved his hands repeatedly, "we will certainly obey Ma boss."

Ma San smiled, turned toward the door. Upon reaching it, he stopped: "By the way, shut down all your venues. Casinos, opium dens, all of them. This is Director Lin's order; anyone who dares defy it bears the consequences!"

Having said that, he swaggered out of the box.

The three tycoons slumped in their chairs, drenched in cold sweat.

After Ma San left, the three in the box took a while to recover.

"Damn it," Zhang Tianlin wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, "this Ma San is scarier than the legends. Did you see his gaze? It's like a poisonous snake..."

Huang Genrong inhaled deeply: "Talking about this now is useless. Shut down all venues quickly; we can't disobey Director Lin's order."

"But..." Zhang Tianlin still wanted to say something.

"But what?" Du Yusheng cut him off, "If you want to die, just say it. Shen Qingshan was richer than us, and Ma San chopped him up, right? Ten family members, all sunk to the river bottom. You want to emulate him?"

Zhang Tianlin fell silent at once.

"Brother is right," Du Yusheng adjusted his glasses, "the venues must be closed, and quickly. But I think just closing them isn't enough."

"What do you mean?" Huang Genrong asked.

"We need to be proactive," Du Yusheng lowered his voice, "send a monthly tribute to Director Lin. We can't wait for them to demand it; that would be too passive."

Huang Genrong's eyes lit up: "Second brother is right. Who is Director Lin? He's a true big figure. If we proactively pay tribute, we might even save a life."

"Here's my plan," Du Yusheng counted on his fingers, "each of us sends fifty thousand dollars a month, delivered by the most trustworthy person. The money can't be too little, but not too much either, lest we appear overly rich."

"Fifty thousand?" Zhang Tianlin winced, "this..."

"You still think that's too much?" Huang Genrong glared, "How much is your life worth? Shen Qingshan's money was ten times yours, and now it's all fed to the fish!"

Zhang Tianlin shrank his neck: "Then... okay then."

"Remember," Du Yusheng instructed, "when sending the money be discreet. We mustn't appear flaunting. Be humble when needed; preserving our lives is enough."

"Right, right, right," Huang Genrong nodded repeatedly, "we're nothing but a fart in Director Lin's eyes. As long as we live, we can enjoy in secret."

After the three agreed, they acted immediately. That night, the casinos and opium dens in the French Concession began closing one after another.

Those venues that once made the three tycoons rich are, before real power, not even a fart.

As for the monthly tribute, the three dared not delay. They knew that before someone like Lin Yu, no amount of money could buy a life.

Being able to preserve a small life with money is already the best outcome.