Chapter 95: Disqualification

At this point, Jiang Jianhua had lost all previous fondness for Zhao Jianlong; as for the gifts he’d received, he’d already forgotten what they were. So many gifts arrived each year—he couldn’t possibly remember them all.

Seeing Jiang Jianhua walking toward him, Zhao Jianlong immediately stood up: “Director Jiang!”

Jiang Jianhua nodded: “Come out with me.”

Zhao Jianlong didn’t think twice—he’d sent plenty of gifts, so he assumed Jiang had something important to say, and stepped out after him.

The other outstanding youths glanced curiously at Jiang Jianhua and Zhao Jianlong, then turned away without further interest. None of them could have imagined that Zhao Jianlong would never return after leaving.

Outside the recording hall, Jiang Jianhua sighed at Zhao Jianlong: “Your designation as one of the Ten Outstanding Youth has been revoked.”

Zhao Jianlong froze, then his face darkened, a flash of malice in his eyes.

“Why?”

Jiang Jianhua handed him the newspaper: “Read it yourself.” Then he refused to look at Zhao Jianlong again and turned back toward the recording hall.

Zhao Jianlong’s eyes locked onto the report about him—his head buzzed, his face shifting from dark to pale. He looked up—the headline was from Renbao. Even if he were ignorant, he knew Renbao’s status in the country. No wonder Jiang Jianhua had immediately expelled him from the Ten Outstanding Youth.

“It’s over!” Zhao Jianlong cried inwardly. With any provincial media outlet, he could have erased the damage—but Renbao was a knife hanging over his head. He wanted to cut it down, but he was too short, too weak—he couldn’t reach it.

Zhao Jianlong stood stunned, then snapped to attention, pulled out his mobile phone, and called Huo Xing.

Huo Xing had just dropped his child at daycare that morning, returned home to accompany his wife shopping, and was about to sit down for a meal when his mobile rang.

He picked it up, pressed the answer button, and before he could speak, Zhao Jianlong’s voice came through the receiver: “Where are you?”

Huo Xing said: “I’m in the province too.”

“Something’s happened!” Zhao Jianlong said, voice low and panicked: “I’m heading back to Jiangzhou right away—you go back too. Oh, first get me a copy of Renbao…”

“Beep-beep-beep…”

Huo Xing realized something major had occurred. In his experience, Zhao Jianlong was always calm, imperturbable—he’d never sounded this frantic, never hung up before Huo could even finish speaking.

“You eat without me—something’s come up at the company, I have to go back.” Huo Xing told his wife, then rose to leave.

“Again?” his wife complained. “How long has it been since you came home? The kid doesn’t even recognize you.”

Huo Xing was ruthless and had many mistresses, but his love for his wife and child was genuine.

“Once I’ve handled it, I’ll stay with you and the child for a while.” Huo Xing gave his wife a guilty look, then hurried out of the restaurant and bought a copy of Renbao from a newsstand at the corner.

“Chaos in Jiangzhou Arcade Halls”—Huo Xing spotted the bold headline immediately, front-page top story, signaling just how seriously the newspaper’s leadership regarded this matter.

Huo Xing sucked in a sharp breath, his face as pale as Zhao Jianlong’s. He immediately dialed Zhao Jianlong.

“Big Brother Long, don’t go near the arcade when you get back, and don’t contact anyone—wait for me to return.”

“Got it!” Zhao Jianlong said, then hung up.

Outside the Tenglong Arcade on Zhongyangdajie in Jiangzhou, three men held up a long banner: “Tenglong Arcade Lures Minors into Gambling, Plunging Our Family into Debt and Despair. We Beg Authorities to Severely Punish Arcade Owner Zhao Jianlong.”

“Give back our blood and sweat money!”

“Give back our blood and sweat money!”

The three men waved their fists, shouting repeatedly. A dense crowd gathered around, all excitedly watching the spectacle. Everyone in Jiangzhou knew Zhao Jianlong was a major gangster—but he was skilled at masking himself, had wide connections, and anyone who’d opposed him had vanished.

No one expected three more fools to show up today, waving banners. To everyone, these weren’t truth-seekers—they were walking to their deaths.

Inside the arcade, Erfei sat at the entrance sipping tea, watching the three men with calm amusement. Changmao and Juanmao stood with arms crossed, smirking.

“Called the cops yet?” Erfei asked Changmao and Juanmao behind him.

Juanmao nodded, eyes blazing with malice as he stared at Sun Dahai: “Called. I know that big guy. After this blows over, we’ll deal with him.”

At that moment, Sun Dahai gave a signal to the other two. They exchanged glances, nodded slightly, then suddenly pulled red bricks from their cotton coats and charged forward.

It happened too suddenly. Neither Erfei nor Changmao and Juanmao expected Sun Dahai and his men to have the audacity to storm the arcade. Then came the crashing, smashing sounds—and the shattering of glass.

“Shit!” Changmao and Juanmao snapped to attention, sprinted inside, grabbed steel pipes from behind the counter, and swung them wildly at Sun Dahai and his men.

Though the three had prepared by wearing thick clothing, the steel pipes still struck with brutal pain.

The three men scrambled wildly through the hall, clutching their heads, screaming in agony. Finally, unable to bear it, they bolted outside and collapsed onto the ground with thuds.

“Help! Murder!”

“Save me!”

“I’m dying! Help!”

Changmao and Juanmao rushed out of the arcade, raising their steel pipes to strike again—when Zhou Andong shouted from the crowd: “Stop! What are you doing? Do you plan to kill in broad daylight?”

Changmao and Juanmao froze. They hadn’t expected anyone to interfere at this point—someone daring to step in? They looked up—and froze again. That face… it was familiar. Hadn’t they seen him somewhere before?

Zhou Andong walked over, glancing at Erfei still sipping tea at the arcade entrance: “I thought Langtou was handling security here—how’d you bring back this fat pig again?”

To call Erfei a “fat pig” enraged Changmao and Juanmao further—but Zhou Andong knew Langtou, and that made them hesitate.

“You know Langtou?” Juanmao asked cautiously.

Zhou Andong lit a cigarette, exhaled slowly: “Know him? We’re very close. Even when he eats or sleeps, he can’t stop thinking about me.”

Hearing this, the onlookers suddenly understood. No wonder he dared to meddle—he was one of them, a fellow insider.

“What’s your name?” Juanmao asked.

Zhou Andong drew on his cigarette, letting the smoke drift slowly: “I’m Zhou Andong.”