Chapter 3390: Rush Back to China

Hank used not to fear death at all; he thought that as long as he had lived enough and lived well in this life, he could face death calmly when the time came.

Of course, according to his own plan, with his wealth and such attention to his body, any problem would be treated immediately, so living past eighty should not be difficult, and if he could live to eighty, he would basically be satisfied.

But he never imagined that despite all his precautions, he would still encounter pancreatic cancer, such a super killer.

Now he only wants to see Ye Chen as soon as possible, no matter what, to ask Ye Chen to cure him.

So he immediately contacted his flight crew, urging the private jet to refuel quickly and hurry through the pre-takeoff checks.

And he himself left the hospital at once, taking a car to the airport.

Hank had never been so busy in his life; just two days ago he had flown to China, yesterday he flew back overnight, spent several hours on tests upon landing, and now had to rush back again.

He also calculated the time: right now it is early morning in China, so when he lands, it will be evening there, just in time to invite Ye Chen to dinner, naturally at Tianxiang Fu.

Thus, on his way to the airport, he could not resist calling Matt Finkelstein to ask him to put in a good word with Steve and speak a few kind words on his behalf.

But then he thought: it is early morning in China now, so calling Matt Finkelstein is fine, but Steve surely hasn't gotten up yet; if he bothered him now, he would surely get scolded.

So he decided to get on the plane first and talk later; after flying three or four hours, when it is morning in Jin Ling, he would use the satellite phone on the plane to call Matt Finkelstein.

A little over an hour later, his private jet took off from New York Kennedy Airport, flying into the morning glow.

Fortunately, he is still fairly wealthy, and his private jet has a range that can fly straight to Jin Ling; otherwise, with a refueling stop in between, it would take over sixteen hours to get there.

Hank slept not a wink all night; seeing that it was already dawn, he still felt no drowsiness.

Anyone in this situation would probably find it hard to sleep, and although he couldn't sleep, his body felt extremely weary, his eyelids constantly drooping.

He tried closing his eyes to rest a little, but as soon as he shut them, he felt as if cancer cells were swarming inside his body, filling him with despair and helplessness.

After the plane began cruising over the ocean, he could not resist picking up the phone and calling Matt Finkelstein.

At this moment, Matt Finkelstein was enjoying breakfast in his hotel room; he had already let himself go, living in China, and now felt an unprecedented sense of security.

Not long ago, when public condemnation was at its peak, he could hardly sleep, always worrying about being assassinated.

Later, it even developed to the point that he dared not sleep even when sitting in his private jet flying in the sky.

Recently, private jets in America have been having all kinds of problems—sometimes hitting this, sometimes bumping that—and he feared that if his jet flew long enough, it might hit something unknown, and he would perish with it.

In that case, it would truly fulfill the Chinese saying: absolutely no place to bury one's corpse.

But since following Steve to China, he has found that as soon as he lies down and his head touches the pillow, he falls asleep, and is guaranteed to sleep soundly until morning.

His sleep quality can be said to be as good as it possibly can be.

Feeling cheerful while eating breakfast, he planned to start today by slightly loosening up, first trying to exercise in the hotel gym and swimming pool, thinking there would be no safety issues; once he adapted to the hotel environment, he could then go out alone to stroll around the streets of Jin Ling.

Just then, his phone suddenly rang—it was an unknown number.

Upon answering, he heard Hank's voice: "Matt, hurry up and tell Mr. Steve that I want to have dinner with Mr. Ye tonight!"

Before, I was merely Hank's pimp, providing all kinds of stimulating services, just like an old procuress in ancient times.

Back then, Hank never regarded me as a friend, but only as his dog.

But now I won't put up with Hank anymore; I am currently Steve's lackey, so what the hell are you?

So he said lazily: "Hank, can you just arrange a meeting with Mr. Ye whenever you want? Can you just pass a message to Steve whenever you want? You're really overestimating yourself."

Hank shouted back: "Matt Finkelstein, how dare you talk to me like that? Don't forget you're just a dog we raised with money!"

Matt Finkelstein smiled and said disdainfully: "Well, I'm sorry, Hank, but I'm no longer your dog—I'm now Steve Rothschild's dog, and also Mr. Ye's dog; you really think I'm afraid of you?"

Hank never expected him to dare speak like that, and instantly flew into a rage.

But just as he was about to curse, he suddenly realized a problem.

This grandson Matt Finkelstein has already transformed completely; I have nothing left to threaten him with.

On the contrary, if I now want to arrange a meeting with Ye Chen through Steve, I really have to beg him to do it.

After a moment of silence, he could only say with a chuckle: "Matt, we're all friends, don't speak so formally; there's nothing to fear—you definitely won't be afraid of me, on the contrary, I still need to ask you for help."

Seeing Hank so reasonable, Matt Finkelstein's mood improved considerably.

He actually knew very well in his heart that if this guy truly had business wanting to see Ye Chen, he couldn't possibly just ignore it.

So he decisively drew the line and asked: "You weren't just back in America yesterday? Why are you inviting Mr. Ye to dinner again tonight? Did you not actually leave?"

"I did." Hank sighed, lamenting: "I left not long ago and came back again; I'm already on the plane now, and I have important matters to discuss with Mr. Ye."

Matt Finkelstein exclaimed in surprise: "Holy shit, could it be that Mr. Ye saw right through you? Did you really get diagnosed with pancreatic cancer?"

Hank said gloomily: "For heaven's sake, don't bring it up—Mr. Ye really is a divine man; he said I'd be impotent, and I am; he said I had pancreatic cancer, and I really do; the doctors say my chance of surviving five years is less than ten percent; I have now reformed myself and decided to follow Mr. Ye forever."

Matt Finkelstein exclaimed in awe: "I once heard Mr. Rothschild and Mr. Hong of Tianxiang Fu talking about Mr. Ye; Mr. Hong said Mr. Ye has the nickname 'True Dragon of the Mundane World,' and it seems the name is truly deserved..."

Hank pleaded: "Matt, for the sake of our past friendship, please hurry and say hello to Mr. Rothschild; this is my satellite phone—contact me anytime if there's any update."