The Old Man Who Was No Good Person

“You’re saying you’re my uncle?” Jiang Bei’s eyes widened as he scrutinized the grinning, bald, chubby man before him.

The bald man nodded, his smile brimming with undisguised self-satisfaction and the thrill of courting danger. “Yes, I’m your uncle.”

“I don’t remember having an uncle,” Jiang Bei said.

“That’s because I went abroad when you were very young. I’ve only just returned.”

Jiang Bei, cigarette dangling from his lips, stared at the bald man, feeling as if something was off. He was certain he’d never met this man before. Yet strangely enough, there was an odd sense of familiarity about him. How intriguing, Jiang Bei mused, then let it go with a laugh. What did it matter? As long as it was interesting.

“So, Uncle, what brings you to me today?”

Seeing Jiang Bei seemingly accept him as his uncle, Wang Fu’s grin widened. “I do have something for you. You see, I’ve made a fortune overseas these past years. Now that I’m back, I want to play a game with you. Interested?”

Smoke drifted lazily. Why did this sound so familiar?

“What sort of game?” Jiang Bei asked.

Wang Fu pulled a sealed envelope from his pocket and handed it over. “Inside is a card with fifty billion on it—all yours. The rules are simple: from today until your thirtieth birthday, use the money to start a business. On the deadline, we’ll see how much cash you have left.”

Jiang Bei took the envelope quietly.

Not far away, three classmates—a pair of boys and a girl—stood frozen, watching the bald man climb out of a Rolls-Royce and stride up to Jiang Bei. They’d been too intimidated to approach, and now whispered in awe:

“Jiang Bei’s uncle is a mega-rich tycoon?”

“Did I hear fifty billion?”

“So that’s it—Jiang Bei’s been a hidden rich kid all along! He really kept it secret!”

“That jerk! He claimed he couldn’t afford breakfast this morning and made me buy it for him. Outrageous!”

Jiang Bei opened the envelope. Sure enough, there was a single black credit card inside. Judging by the English lettering, which he could read well as a top student, it was an American Express Centurion Card—the fabled black card. His name, spelled out in pinyin, was printed on it. On the back, a 24-hour private concierge number.

The card felt special, too—smooth and weighty, almost certainly genuine.

This was getting even more amusing.

“Go on, Uncle,” Jiang Bei said.

At this, Wang Fu nervously rubbed his bald head, which was slick with cold sweat—greasy and uncomfortable. He was starting to regret his reckless claim. Facing Jiang Bei at such close range, he could feel the intense pressure Jiang Bei exuded, just as he always had. “What have I gotten myself into?” he thought. “Once his memories return, I’m done for.”

He cleared his throat. Too late to back out now; the only way was forward.

“There are other players in this game, not just you. On the deadline, whoever has the most cash wins the grand prize.”

“And what’s that?” Jiang Bei asked.

“All my assets. Current market value: eighty trillion.”

Fifty billion, eighty trillion—it sounded like monopoly money.

The three classmates whispered again.

“That bald guy must be crazy.”

“Maybe… but even the world’s richest man doesn’t have eighty trillion.”

“But monopoly money does.”

Jiang Bei remained silent, slipping the black card into his pocket with unruffled composure, as if coming into fifty billion was the most ordinary thing in the world.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“That’s it,” Wang Fu confirmed.

“Sounds interesting. But what if I lose? Do I have to pay back what I spend?”

“No, you don’t. But you won’t win the grand prize.”

“And if I don’t care about that?”

Wang Fu shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do… but eighty trillion is quite a sum.”

“With fifty billion, I could retire now,” Jiang Bei said with a faint smile.

A few minutes later, everything had been explained. By the rules, Butler Wang Fu could only suggest that Jiang Bei and Fang Yuan use the money to start a business—he couldn’t force them. Not that he could, anyway. Whether Jiang Bei took his advice or not was his own affair. In the end, it was Jiang Bei who would face the consequences, not Wang Fu.

In fact, Wang Fu rather relished the thought of Jiang Bei losing and accepting his punishment.

So, in front of Jiang Bei, he video-called Jiang Bei’s parents to explain everything, assured them the black card was legitimate, left a business card, offered an awkward excuse, and prepared to leave.

“Wait…” Jiang Bei called out as Wang Fu took only two steps.

Wang Fu froze. For a moment, he was almost afraid to turn around. “Anything else, nephew?”

“Just one thing. Uncle, why do I get the feeling you’re… not quite human?”

…

Wang Fu climbed into the car and quickly wiped the cold sweat from his brow and face. Courting disaster might be exhilarating, but it was hell on the heart—he was getting too old for this. If he wasn’t careful, he’d scare himself to death.

The black Rolls-Royce Phantom sped away from the school gates, fleeing the scene.

Jiang Bei lit another cigarette, waved with a smile at the disappearing car, bidding it farewell.

By now, the three eavesdropping classmates—Zhang Dong, Yang Xue, and Zhao Qiang—hurried over, eager to find out what had just transpired.

Jiang Bei smiled, his temper always gentle; in all his life, he’d never lost it with anyone. “To put it simply, an uncle fell out of the sky and gave me fifty billion to spend as I wish.”

Yang Xue and the others were speechless.

Money falling from the sky?

Handsome, top student, basketball star, gentle, sunny, good-natured—all these labels fit Jiang Bei. For any eighteen- or nineteen-year-old girl, resisting his charms was next to impossible.

In fact, Jiang Bei was so outstanding that no one knew how many girls in Wucheng No. 1 High School secretly cherished feelings for him and dreamed of him as their Prince Charming.

Yang Xue, lovely as she was, was no exception.

So she worried aloud, “Jiang Bei, maybe you should call the police. Money falling from the sky—sounds like a scam to me.”

“Call the police? No, no, that won’t do.”

“Why not? Aren’t you worried? That bald guy didn’t look like a good person.”

“He’s certainly not a good person,” Jiang Bei replied with a smile. There was more he could have said, but decided not to, lest he frighten his friends.

“Then why…?”

“The ancients taught us to seize joy when it comes… Whether my uncle is a good person isn’t important. What matters is, I’m now a billionaire. Do you know what that means?”

“What does it mean?” The three were always a step behind Jiang Bei’s train of thought.

He was used to it by now. Smiling, he declared, “It means that tonight, the entire expense is on me—Master Jiang!”

…