Chapter 939: Zhou Andong Is a Real Scam Artist

Zhou Andong drank more than half of this bottle, while the old man had only one cup—less than three taels total.

The old man held the empty bottle and stared blankly at Zhou Andong: “This is liquor your factory produces—why are you competing with me for it?”

“Mainly because drinking with you, Elder, is such a joy, I just drank a bit more.”

Zhou Andong let out a burp and saw Zhao Ping still piling food onto his plate—he quickly stopped her.

“Auntie, don’t keep serving me, I’m full.”

“You’re just a young man—this is barely anything,” Zhao Ping said, though she stopped adding more food.

The meal was light and pleasant, the atmosphere harmonious; what pleased Zhou Andong most was that his mother-in-law had served him food twice.

After eating, Su Su woke up, but there was nothing suitable for her to eat, so they only gave her formula.

Zhou Andong drank tea with the old man, checked the time, then headed to the first bar.

He’d planned to bring Su Su, but Gu Minglan refused—the little girl was happily playing with toys and didn’t even look at them.

Jian Mingfan also ran out, claiming he was tagging along with Boss Zhou to drown his sorrows in alcohol and wake up ready to find his biological parents.

When Wu Chao saw Zhou Andong and Jian Qiu emerge, he started the car.

Once inside, Zhou Andong asked: “Did you eat?”

“Yes!” Wu Chao lightly pressed the accelerator and turned the wheel, the car slowly heading toward the alley entrance.

“To the first bar,” Zhou Andong rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. “Get ready—you’re coming with me to Xiangjiang.”

Jian Qiu asked: “When are we leaving?”

Zhou Andong rested his arm on the window and flicked ash: “I’d guess within the next two or three days.”

………………

At the first bar, Wu Hongkang and Zhang Shenghui had already arrived; they clinked bottles.

“You mean Zhou Andong wants us to make foreign exchange together—with a hundred percent profit?”

“Yes!” Wu Hongkang nodded. “That’s what he said.”

Zhang Shenghui looked skeptical: “With a deal this good, why would he come to us?”

Wu Hongkang took a sip from his bottle: “Sure, Zhou Andong can be a real scam artist sometimes—but he’s never let us down on real business.”

“That’s true!” Zhang Shenghui admitted—they’d been scammed by Zhou Andong more than once, but when it came to actual work, he was reliable.

Wu Hongkang said: “I’ve been thinking it over, but I still can’t figure out what business he’s planning that could earn foreign exchange.”

“We’ll know when he gets here,” Zhang Shenghui raised his bottle again and clinked it with Wu Hongkang’s. “Speak of the devil.”

Zhang Shenghui chuckled and nodded toward the door.

Wu Hongkang looked up and saw Zhou Andong and Jian Qiu enter, followed by a teenager.

“Gentlemen, you’re here early.”

It was still early; the bar had few patrons, and Zhou Andong spotted Wu Hongkang and Zhang Shenghui immediately.

“Boss Zhou calls, how could we dare be late?” Zhang Shenghui said. “Especially since you’re taking us to make foreign exchange—if we show up late and you leave us out, wouldn’t that be a huge loss?”

“Old Zhang,” Zhou Andong sat down, exasperated. “Can you stop being sarcastic? If you keep this up, how can we ever have fun together?”

Zhang Shenghui laughed: “Whether we can have fun together depends on whether you actually deliver on making us foreign exchange.”

“You say that?” Zhou Andong was annoyed. “I’m always honest and trustworthy—I never lie. If I say I’ll get you foreign exchange, I will.”

Wu Hongkang couldn’t hold back: “What business is it?”

Zhou Andong didn’t answer him. Instead, he took Jian Qiu’s small bag, found two hundred yuan, and handed it to Jian Mingfan.

“Go buy two hundred yuan worth of barbecue.”

Jian Mingfan looked at the money: “Big Brother, two hundred yuan of barbecue? You’ll never eat all that—and we just finished eating.”

Zhou Andong glared: “Just go. Don’t waste my time. If you can’t finish it, I’ll feed it to the dog.”

Jian Mingfan muttered: “There aren’t any barbecue stalls around here.”

Zhou Andong said: “If there aren’t any, have Wu Chao drive you to find some.”

Jian Mingfan realized: Zhou Andong was deliberately sending him away so he wouldn’t hear what business he was planning.

“Sigh!”

The boy sighed and reluctantly left.

Zhou Andong glanced around, confirmed no one was nearby, then lowered his voice: “Our country currently needs massive supplies of raw sugar...”

Zhang Shenghui and Wu Hongkang leaned in, listening intently, their hearts growing increasingly stirred.

They’d heard of futures trading but never touched it—they knew it was dangerous.

But they also knew that if news of China’s raw sugar shortage leaked, prices would skyrocket.

If they really traded white sugar futures, the chance of profit was high—but they knew nothing about futures.

They could raise a few million U.S. dollars, but if they jumped into the futures market blindly with Zhou Andong and lost money, what then?

Even losing thirty or fifty thousand would be impossible to explain.

“Think it over carefully,” Zhou Andong picked up a slice of watermelon and bit into it. “I estimate we’ll need to leave for Xiangjiang within the next two or three days. You don’t have much time—you must decide tonight.”

Wu Hongkang picked up his bottle and downed more than half the beer in one gulp, then exhaled deeply.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll give you a definite answer.”

“Fine!” Zhou Andong said. “Call the hospital. I won’t be going out tomorrow morning.”

Zhang Shenghui picked up a segment of orange and put it in his mouth: “You said you have inside info from the General Station—what is it?”

“You don’t need to go looking for sources anymore,” Zhou Andong tossed the watermelon slice onto the table and wiped his hands with a napkin. “In November, the General Station’s prime-time advertising slots will be auctioned.”

Zhang Shenghui froze, then burst out excitedly: “Really?”

“Do you think I’d lie about something like this?” Zhou Andong snapped. “What would I gain from lying to you?”

Zhang Shenghui grabbed Zhou Andong’s hand, grinning broadly: “Old Zhou, I’m not doubting you—I just can’t overstate how vital this is to me. Fine, I’ll remember this favor.”

Zhou Andong yanked his hand away, disgusted: “Remembering it is useless—you need to deliver something real.”

Zhang Shenghui instantly grew wary: “Of course! We’re partners—if you ever need help, anything I can do, I’ll do it.”

Zhou Andong sneered: "Those are all the tricks I've already used; when I actually come to you for help, you'll say you can't do this and you can't do that."