Chapter 1002

When the private room door of the private‑cuisine restaurant opened, smoke seeped out through the crack, making the hallway staff instinctively frown.

Fu Xinping, belly full and pleased, strode ahead, his belt tight around his waist, making his beer belly even more prominent.

As soon as he sat in the car, he pulled out his phone.

He called the director Liu of the City Bureau office: "Notify everyone, tomorrow morning at nine we'll hold a bureau meeting to focus on the implementation plan for 'eliminate citywide surveillance blind spots.' Also, collate all the historical data of this project, especially the mess left by former Luo Zhiwei, and give it to me."

After hanging up, Fu Xinping's mouth curled into a cold smile.

Luo Zhiwei, that idiot, once dared to haul a batch of junk from the second‑hand market and pass it off as usable—he deserved to be dealt with.

Now that this project has landed in Fu Xinping's hands, it's a perfect chance to boost his political record.

If he can get hold of that fifty‑million budget, it will not only shut Lin Dongfan up, but also win Character's favor, and even let him skim some money off the funds—why not?

But fifty million is no small sum.

The City Bureau's finances are already stretched thin, and getting allocations from the city is nearly impossible.

Fu Xinping rubbed his chin, and two names instantly flashed in his mind—Chen Cheng, Wang Zhen.

These two burly local tycoons only made it big in Jinxī County thanks to Fu Xinping's protection back then; now it's time for them to "pay back."

The next afternoon.

In a discreet clubhouse on the outskirts of Wuzhou City.

Chen Cheng and Wang Zhen sat on the sofa, looking nervously at Fu Xinping across from them.

Chen Cheng wore a flamboyant floral shirt, puffing on a cigarette so fast the ash was about to drop onto his expensive suit pants.

He runs a private mining business.

Back then he was caught gambling in Jinxī County, but Fu Xinping got him out with a single word; over the years, under Fu Xinping's protection, he's done plenty of illegal detention and violent debt collection.

His mining business has grown larger and larger, and his net worth is already over ten million.

Wang Zhen, meanwhile, wore a Zhongshan suit, looking refined and genteel, holding a tea cup he had no desire to sip; in private, society people call him a "cultured gangster."

The hotel he runs is the leader in Jinxī County.

When his hotel was caught harboring drug users and prostitutes, Fu Xinping personally supervised the case, not only getting the suspects released on bail but also canceling the online wanted notices.

Over the years, the benefits he's given Fu Xinping, both overt and covert, have exceeded one million.

"Director Fu, why did you summon us today?" Wang Zhen spoke first, his tone tinged with flattery.

Fu Xinping leaned back on the sofa, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest, his gaze sweeping down over the two: "I called you here because I have a good thing in mind for you."

He paused, then drawled: "The city is now pushing the 'eliminate citywide surveillance blind spots' project, which needs a budget of one hundred million, but the city's finances are tight—no funds can be allocated. I thought, you two have made plenty of money in Jinxī County over the years; contributing to your hometown's security would be a perfect way to establish your social prestige."

"One… one hundred million?"

Chen Cheng was so startled he almost dropped his cigarette.

His face turned pale instantly: "Director Fu, are you joking? My mine's market is bad lately, cash flow is tight—where could I get that much money?"

Wang Zhen quickly echoed: "Yeah, Director Fu, my hotel has been hit by the pandemic, losing money these past two years; just staying afloat is an achievement—coming up with a hundred million is impossible."

Both knew deep down this wasn't about contribution or prestige—it was plainly cutting the leeks! Using the project as a pretext, they were openly being shaken down for bribes.

But a hundred million is no small sum; even if they were rich, they'd be reluctant to just throw it away.

Seeing the two lamenting their plight,

Fu Xinping instantly switched on his "smile‑vanishing act," his eyes turning icy cold: "You really can't come up with it?"

Seeing they still looked troubled,

they remained silent.

Fu Xinping's tone gained another edge of threat: "Chen Cheng, when you were caught gambling in Jinxī County, who got you out within six hours? Later, when your mine's men beat a worker seriously, who helped you bury the matter? Without me, you'd still be rotting in jail—could you have today's wealth?"

Chen Cheng's face flushed then paled; he lowered his head, afraid to speak.

Fu Xinping then turned to Wang Zhen: "Wang Zhen, your hotel's harboring of drug users and prostitutes is solid evidence—who helped you cover it up back then? Who got those online wanted suspects cleared for you? Over the years, how much of your earnings is clean? You know it yourself—I despise those who burn their bridges after crossing the river."

Wang Zhen's hand began to tremble, making the water in his tea cup slosh out.

He knew Fu Xinping was ruthless; if he really angered him, not only would his hotel be lost, he'd end up behind bars.

"Director Fu, I'm not unwilling to help—I truly can't come up with that much money." Wang Zhen forced himself to explain: "My hotel just finished renovation and owes a lot in construction fees; cash flow is completely blocked."

"Cash flow blocked?"

Fu Xinping snorted, pulled two sheets from his briefcase, and tossed them in front of them: "This is your recent cash flow—you just bought a villa last month."

Saying that, Fu Xinping shifted his gaze to mine owner Chen Cheng.

He zeroed in on Chen Cheng's luxury pain point: "And you—your daughter is studying abroad; just one year's tuition is over a million, and you have the nerve to tell me you're broke?"

The two stared at the cash‑flow sheets on the paper, and their faces instantly turned ashen.

They hadn't expected Fu Xinping to have already investigated their backgrounds—he was clearly prepared.

"Director Fu, could we perhaps pay less?" Chen Cheng gritted his teeth and probed: "I can at most come up with ten million; any more would truly be… beyond my means."

"Ten million?"

Fu Xinping raised his eyebrows, his eyes full of contempt: "Do you think this is a vegetable market where you haggle? The hundred‑million shortfall means each of you must chip in fifty million—not a cent less."

Seeing the two lower their heads without speaking,

Fu Xinping added: "I'll give you three days to scrape together the money and transfer it to the City Bureau's designated account. This isn't helping me—it's helping yourselves. You should know I'm your protector."

The two stayed at the inn, heads bowed, silent—once a protector, now a harbinger of doom.

Fu Xinping was unusually patient today, launching into another ideological talk: "Think about it from another angle—once this project is done, I'll smoothly become vice mayor. Then your businesses in Wuzhou will be nothing but a word from me; whenever trouble arises, I'll settle it for you! Otherwise…"

Fu Xinping's words trailed off, but the meaning was already clear—paying up is giving you face! If you don't know how to appreciate it, you don't deserve to breathe!

Chen Cheng and Wang Zhen glanced at each other, seeing despair and fear in the other's eyes.

"Fifty million each—this really isn't a small amount, but we'll try to scrape it together; if you could extend the deadline a few days…" Wang Zhen was the first to compromise, his face full of helplessness.

Chen Cheng nodded and echoed: "Three days is indeed rather tight."

"Now that's the spirit—as long as you have this attitude, we can discuss the timeline." Fu Xinping said: "I'll give you a seven‑day extension; no matter how you raise it, I want to see the money within seven days."