Chapter Two: The Three Fake Directors

Yang Le stood outside the lavishly decorated Xiangzhou Grand Hotel, looking at the opulent interior. His heart wavered. A meal here would cost at least several thousand yuan. He had earned a little over nine thousand during the summer break, spent more than six thousand on a phone, and after paying tuition, only two thousand or so remained. Now his dad was planning to empty his wallet in one go.

"Son, why are you only just getting here?" Yang Jiayun emerged from the hotel, dressed in a sharp suit, looking more respectable than usual.

"Come on, room 666666," he said, pulling Yang Le into the hotel.

"Dad, I only have a bit over two thousand left. Why don’t we just eat in the main hall? Food is the same wherever you eat," Yang Le protested, checking his pocket as his father insisted on a private room. Ever since graduating middle school, he felt his father had been fleecing him.

"Everyone says your old man’s got money, why don’t you believe it?" With that, Yang Jiayun dragged him inside.

In the private room, three men sat, all smiling at Yang Le. The room glittered with gold and jade, filled with various vases and bottles of wine. When Yang Le saw the three men, his expression turned cold. Clearly, they were in on his father’s plan to scam him out of his money.

"Why the sour face, boy?" Yang Jiayun scolded as soon as he saw his son’s expression.

"Let me introduce you. This is Chief Gao Peng from the Public Security Bureau. If you ever get into a fight or trouble, you can look for him. Call him Uncle Gao!"

Following his father’s lead, Yang Le greeted Gao Peng, though he thought these people were probably just freeloaders. After the meal, no one would remember anyone.

Gao Peng stood up in response. "Not bad, kid. A bit dark, but you’re quite handsome—your dad’s genes."

Yang Jiayun then introduced another man at the table. "This is Director Tang Wanjian from the Education Bureau. Call him Uncle Tang."

"Hello, Uncle Tang," Yang Le greeted.

Tang Wanjian rose as well. "Yang Le, I’ll remember you. I’ll speak to Principal Liu at your school to look after you."

Yang Le thought to himself, they’ve really done their homework—even knowing his principal’s name. Such effort for a meal!

Yang Jiayun moved to the final introduction. "This is Director Song Yiming from the Land Bureau. Quickly, greet Uncle Song."

"Hello, Uncle Song," Yang Le replied, indifferent.

Three bureau directors, all at once. His father clearly didn’t care if his lies were believable. If he knew so many powerful people, why had Yang Le been delivering takeout? Who would believe this? Even a fool would have doubts.

"Yang Le, right? Your dad says you’re in your last year at Qianjiang No.1 High School. Do you know Song Feier? I’m her father. I suggest you pursue my daughter—she’s well-behaved and obedient," Song Yiming said.

A bureau director directly suggesting he chase his daughter? Yang Le thought, who would believe this nonsense?

"That’s a great idea, son! This is a blessing for you. Hurry and start calling him father-in-law," Yang Jiayun urged enthusiastically.

"Don’t rush, don’t rush. Let’s wait until I succeed before changing what I call him. Besides, I didn’t prepare a bride price yet. But, Xiao Yang, you mustn't tell Feier I put you up to this!"

The others burst out laughing. "Old Song, if I had a daughter, I’d let Xiao Yang court her too," quipped Gao Peng and Tang Wanjian.

Listening to them ramble on in increasingly absurd conversation, Yang Le felt a headache coming on. He hadn’t expected them to investigate him so thoroughly for this meal—even knowing his class monitor was a beauty named Song Feier. That took effort.

"Bring the food, please," Yang Jiayun said, finally letting his son sit as the main event began.

Exquisite plates held small portions of dishes, many of which Yang Le had never seen before. The aroma was tantalizing, but he felt his heart bleeding. He’d hoped to keep his smartphone, but after this meal, he might have to pawn it.

From the wine cabinet, Yang Jiayun fetched a bottle of red wine. Yang Le glanced at the foreign label and knew it wasn't cheap. He only sipped a little, worried his dad would order more.

After several rounds of toasts and dishes, the three guests finished and left.

"Waiter, the bill," Yang Jiayun called.

"Hello, your total is thirty-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine. Card or cash?" the server announced.

"Three thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine? Dad, I don’t have that much," Yang Le said miserably.

"No, sir, it’s thirty-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine. We’ll round down the nine hundred ninety-nine, so just thirty-nine thousand will do," the server corrected.

Hearing the real price, Yang Le was stunned. He wanted to ask if he could just pay the small change, but didn’t dare.

"Father, this is your own doing. I’m still young, unmarried, and childless—I won’t sell a kidney for this. Maybe you should sell yours," Yang Le joked, making the server laugh. Who would believe that someone dining in the Supreme 666666 Suite couldn’t pay the bill?

"Card, please. The password is six nines," Yang Jiayun said nonchalantly, handing over his card and the password.

Not just anyone could serve in the Supreme 666666 Suite. That Yang Jiayun was willing to give his password showed he didn’t fear any misuse.

"You’re not just putting on airs, are you? What if there’s no money and they beat us up?" Yang Le asked weakly.

"Why don’t you ever believe your old man?" Yang Jiayun replied with a wry smile.

Soon the server returned the card. "Sir, payment complete. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"You can go," Yang Jiayun waved her off.

"You really have money?" Yang Le asked uncertainly once they were alone.

"Would I lie? Why do you trust me so little?" Yang Jiayun retorted. "There’s five million on that card. After the meal, there should be about four million nine hundred and sixty thousand left. Take it, it’s your pocket money. If you run out, just ask me for more."

He tossed the card to Yang Le, stating the amount with ease.

"Five million? If you weren’t my dad, I wouldn’t even look at someone who brags like that," Yang Le grinned, teasing him. They were used to joking like this; his father was always unserious, so Yang Le followed suit.

Yang Jiayun simply smiled.

He only spoke to his father this way in private; in front of others, Yang Le still knew to respect him.

"There’s a 24-hour ATM outside. Why don’t you check the balance yourself?"

With that, they left the hotel. Yang Le, skeptical but curious, checked the balance at the ATM.

When the balance appeared, he was dumbfounded. His hands and legs trembled uncontrollably.

"Four million nine hundred sixty-one thousand," he muttered, withdrawing the card with shaking fingers. Even after several deep breaths, his excitement wouldn’t subside. His legs barely obeyed as he walked away.

"Dad, it’s all true? Those three really are directors?" Yang Le’s voice was shaky with excitement.

"Now you believe me," Yang Jiayun said, pleased.

"Come on, I’ll take you somewhere," he said, pressing the Maybach key as Yang Le followed him to the car.

"Remember when you got your license in eighth grade? Do you still remember how to drive?" he asked in the car.

Yang Le shook his head.

"Want to give it a try? Just for practice," his father suggested.

"No, there are too many cars—I’m a bit scared," Yang Le admitted.

"Then we’ll practice somewhere quieter. Ah... you’ve had it rough these years," Yang Jiayun sighed.

"I prepaid five million at the Mercedes dealership on Zhenxing Road for you. Go when you have time, just mention my name. If you don’t spend it all, have them return the rest. If you go over, just tell me—I’ll transfer more anytime," he said, as if it were nothing.

"Dad, how much money do you really have? And if you’re so rich, why did you make me work part-time?"

Only now did Yang Le realize that he, the son of a tycoon, had been working summer and winter jobs for two years. It was a good thing he hadn’t died young, or his fate as a rich second-generation would have been wasted.

"Ah... your old man has his reasons. It’s a long story," Yang Jiayun sighed.