Chapter 908: Playing Golf

Boss Zhang, cigarette dangling from his mouth, squinted with a smile, stepped aside, and gestured with an outstretched hand: "This boss, you go first; let us open our eyes as well."

He Yuzhu did not stand on ceremony; he picked up the club and walked forward, looking for all the world like a newborn calf unafraid of a tiger.

He stood still, took a deep breath, swung the club, and struck.

Hey, you have to admit, his posture was quite standard; with a turn of the waist and a flick of the arms, he looked the part.

The little white ball traced an arc, and before long, with a "plop," it landed on the grass, rolled twice, and stopped.

Leyan quickly took a look, estimated the distance, and said: "Probably one hundred and eighty meters, didn't reach two hundred."

Boss Zhang and Boss Li exchanged a glance and immediately began to clap vigorously, their faces full of expressions of watching a good show.

"Good! Well played!" Boss Zhang called out insincerely.

He Yuzhu was very unconvinced; he shouldered his club and said: "Didn't perform well this time. One more swing, and it will definitely be better than this level."

Leyan stood to the side, a trace of pity hidden in her eyes, and walked over to He Yuzhu to encourage him: "Mr. He... this time, you might really lose."

He Yuzhu waved his hand dismissively and said carelessly: "If I lose, I lose. If I lose this time, I can win it back next time. What's the big deal?"

Boss Li said with a chuckle: "But having said that, this boss's posture is really quite standard. To reach this level after learning for just a bit is already very good. Tell me—have you played before?"

He Yuzhu shook his head: "Today is the first time I've touched a club. But I've always been good at sports; I learn after a few tries. Even if you win against me this time, it's just luck. If we keep playing, you might not necessarily be my opponents."

Having won money, Boss Zhang didn't care about losing face and flattered He Yuzhu: "This boss's posture is indeed beautiful."

That's what he said, but in his heart, he was unconvinced: Keep bragging; keep playing, and there will be a time when you cry.

He Yuzhu waved his hand and said carelessly: "Isn't it just twenty thousand! I'll settle it all at once next time."

Boss Zhang picked up his club and walked to the tee, squinted to aim at the small flag in the distance, took a deep breath, and swung the club violently.

The little white ball traced a beautiful arc, landed on the grass with a "snap," rolled forward a few times, and stopped steadily.

The caddie ran over and shouted: "Twenty-some meters from the hole!"

Boss Zhang looked back at He Yuzhu, his eyes full of triumph, the corners of his mouth almost reaching his ears.

Boss Li followed closely behind; his swing also went two hundred and forty meters, landing a little over thirty meters from the hole. His level was still not as good as Boss Zhang's.

He Yuzhu noticed that Boss Zhang winked at Boss Li.

That look flashed by, but he saw it clearly—the two of them were in cahoots, preparing to team up to cheat him out of his money.

He Yuzhu sneered inwardly, but his face remained calm.

It was his turn.

He wasn't in a hurry to hit, first putting on a show by doing warm-ups.

Stretching his arms, twisting his waist, and in the end, he actually did a split!

Leyan watched, stunned, and Boss Zhang and Boss Li looked at each other—why are you doing a split while playing golf?

But after this set of warm-ups was finished, the aura He Yuzhu had when standing at the tee was indeed different.

He swung the club with a violent motion; with a muffled "bang," the ball flew out like a cannonball leaving its chamber, fast and far, the arc low and flat, piercing straight into the depths of the course.

"Over three hundred meters!" The caddie was dumbfounded, "This is a master-level distance!"

Leyan's eyes lit up, and she clapped vigorously, her face flushed with excitement: "Mr. He, you are too amazing! This is professional international-level skill!"

He Yuzhu, however, put on a silly look, turned his head, and asked her: "So, did I win or lose this time?"

Leyan's smile froze on her face: "We... we are comparing the distance to the hole. Your shot went over three hundred meters, but you're fifty or sixty meters away from the hole. Boss Zhang is only twenty meters away... Boss Zhang wins this time."

He Yuzhu's face fell instantly.

He threw the club onto the ground, and the club bounced twice, making a "clatter" sound.

He cursed under his breath, looking annoyed, the perfect image of a nouveau riche who couldn't afford to lose.

Boss Zhang was also a bit stunned at first.

He was someone who knew his stuff—every detail of He Yuzhu's shot, from the stance to the swing, from the sound of the impact to the arc of the ball's flight, was impossibly perfect. It didn't feel like a novice, but rather like a veteran of over a dozen years, only the power was too great and the direction was off.

If a formal competition were based on distance, both of them would have lost today.

Boss Zhang pulled back his thoughts, his gaze fixed eagerly on He Yuzhu, fearing that this person would lose the money and then refuse to pay up.

He Yuzhu, however, was not stingy at all.

He took the money out of his bag and settled the losses from the previous two rounds on the spot, not a cent short.

Boss Zhang took the money, his attitude noticeably more polite, and asked cautiously: "Boss, shall we keep playing?"

He Yuzhu glared: "Play! I still want to win back my losses! Let's make it fifty thousand dollars a round, dare you?"

Boss Zhang did a quick calculation in his heart.

In the first round, He Yuzhu hit one hundred and eighty meters; in the second round, although he blasted an astronomical figure of over three hundred meters, the direction was ridiculously off. This person's play was erratic, sometimes like a genius, sometimes like a rookie; ultimately, he was just a greenhorn who had just learned golf, with hit-or-miss feel.

"Fifty thousand?" Boss Zhang rolled his eyes and held up his palm, "Let's play bigger, eighty thousand a shot, how about it?"

He Yuzhu saw through his intentions at a glance—this old guy was eyeing the hundred thousand dollars in his bag and wanted to swallow it in one gulp.

He nodded immediately: "Fine, eighty thousand it is. You two go first again."

Manager Zhou stood to the side, having said nothing from start to finish, but his eyes had never left He Yuzhu.

He had also started out playing golf in his youth before changing professions.

Others couldn't understand, but he saw it clearly—this He Yuzhu was not simple.

Even if it really was his first time touching a club, he was a one-in-a-million prodigy with an impossibly good feel.

Boss Zhang teed off first.

He was indeed in good form today; this shot was steady and accurate.

The ball landed just over ten meters from the hole.

After finishing his shot, Boss Zhang punched the air fiercely, his face full of an expression of certain victory.

Boss Li was the same as usual, over two hundred and forty meters, thirty-some meters from the hole.

It was He Yuzhu's turn.

He Yuzhu placed the ball steadily on the small plastic tee, took a deep breath, and slowly raised his club.

Everyone's gaze was focused on him.

The club head traced a graceful arc, the wind whistled, and it swung down—but just at the moment before it was about to touch the ball, it suddenly stopped!

It hung there in mid-air, motionless.

Boss Zhang was stunned, Boss Li blinked his eyes, Leyan covered her mouth, and even Manager Zhou frowned slightly.

This set of movements was fluid and natural; from raising the club to exerting force to the follow-through, it was the style of a top-tier expert—why stop?

He Yuzhu looked toward the direction of the hole from afar, his gaze profound, as if he were measuring the distance or making some major decision.

In reality, he was struggling with the system in his mind.

"To hit the ball directly into the hole, I have to give the system one hundred catties of gold. Even if I win this round, I'd still be at a loss, so I'll just not use the system."

He Yuzhu cursed in his heart: "Damn system, too greedy, I'll do it myself this time."

Having practiced the Flying Knife for so many years, his judgment of distance was nothing to sneeze at.

Without relying on the system, he could send the ball in using his own skills.

Thinking of this, he readjusted his breathing and swung the club again.

This time, there was no pause.

He swung the club just like he would a knife; the club sliced through the air, and the club head struck the small white ball with a "thud."

The white ball flew high, drawing a perfect parabola between the blue sky and green grass.

"Pfft."

The ball landed seven or eight meters from the hole, did not stop, and continued to roll forward.

Roll, roll—the further it rolled, the slower it got, and the closer it came.

At a position only one meter from the hole, the ball wobbled twice and came to a steady stop.

The entire scene was silent.

Boss Zhang's eyeballs almost popped out, and a layer of cold sweat broke out on his back with a "swish."

Eighty thousand dollars—just like that, gone?

Boss Li also opened his mouth wide, unable to close it for a long time.

One meter.

Just one meter short.