Chapter 128: I’ll Send You on Your Way

Chapter 128: I’ll Send You on Your Way

Tree Island Café was a good size and handsomely done—twenty or thirty tables in all, some for two and some for four, with a long bar toward the back.

There was a second floor as well.

When Wu Chen walked in, the ground floor already held more than thirty “customers.”

All of them male, most between twenty and forty. Some were extremely muscular. Nearly all wore their hair clipped short. Some wore black suits; others did not. They were spread evenly through the room, occupying almost every table.

That was not remotely the normal makeup of a café crowd.

Anyone walking in would sense at once that something was wrong—let alone when all of them looked over at the same moment. Not one of those gazes was friendly.

Wu Chen knew who they were. He knew they were together. He knew every one of them belonged to the same “security company.”

He stopped just inside the door. Nearly everyone looked at him, but most soon turned away and lost interest. He was a young man in his early twenties, college age—exactly like an ordinary customer come in for coffee. Not the man they were waiting for.

His expression stayed even. He swept the room with his eyes, then walked toward the western side, toward the innermost seats against the wall.

Every head came back around to him. A few of them actually stared.

Because—did this kid really have that kind of nerve?

He was going deeper in?

Since they had sat down, not one customer had dared venture past the entrance. Every single person who had come in that afternoon had stopped a step inside, dropped their eyes, and left. Nobody dared stay long enough to order.

Was this young man really that bold?

Still walking in?

At a four-person booth against the western wall sat a skinny, bald, middle-aged man with hollow cheeks. He had been on his phone. Catching movement at the edge of his vision, he glanced up, saw a young man in a suit, and froze for a beat, brows drawing together.

Were there really young people these days with this much nerve, this little fear of trouble?

He too took Wu Chen for a customer after coffee—looking for an empty seat, maybe headed upstairs.

But Wu Chen came straight to his table, pulled out the chair opposite, and sat down. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back, one hand still in his suit pocket.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, and smiled.

The bald man’s face changed. Surprise flashed across it. Then he shot to his feet, slapped the table, and demanded furiously, “You’re the one who’s been calling me?”

It was not confirmation. It was disbelief, hedged with suspicion.

Because Wu Chen was too young.

The voice on the phone had sounded young, but the bald man had never dared imagine anything like this.

Screech. Clatter.

The instant his palm hit the table, dozens of men across the ground floor shoved back their chairs and stood. The noise was enormous. In a heartbeat the whole café seemed packed wall to wall with standing men.

Only Wu Chen remained seated.

Every eye was on him.

He was entirely unbothered. He looked at the bald man and smiled. “That’s right. It was me. Surprised?”

Then he tilted his head slightly, taking in the ring of men glaring at him around the room, and turned back with the same smile. “What’s all this supposed to be? You’re trying to frighten me? Or do you want every one of these men to hear about those dirty little secrets of yours—let them all in on it, so they can help spread the word for you?”

A muscle jumped in the bald man’s cheek. He stared.

Wu Chen’s composure went past anything he had pictured.

He had staged this entire display, and it had not stirred a flicker in the man across the table.

Of course it had not.

Even in the absurd event that it came to blows, the thirty-odd men in this café could not beat Wu Chen even all together—not in a room this open, with this much open space, terrain, and so many objects he could use.

Besides.

There was no chance of a fight today. Wu Chen was certain the bald man in front of him did not dare touch a single hair on his head.

He had brought all these people and put on this show partly to intimidate—but the real reason was that he was afraid of dying.

He had gotten himself tangled in something he never should have gone near.

He was already moving his assets and preparing to run abroad.

He was afraid for his life. Genuinely.

“Who are you?” the bald man asked, low, still staring.

“It’s been hours. You have my number and you still haven’t found out who I am? Are you really that useless?” Wu Chen smiled again, a needle of amusement in it.

The bald man’s face went dark. His eyelid twitched violently.

Wu Chen had called him useless with a smile, and for a moment he genuinely did not know what to do with it. Lose his temper and go for him? He did not dare. He had no read at all on Wu Chen—no idea who stood behind him, who had sent him—and the secrets Wu Chen held were fatal.

But if he did nothing, his men were all watching. He was the boss, and someone had called him useless to his face while he did not even dare answer back. That would be far too—

Bang!

“Who the fuck are you?” Both palms came down on the table. He leaned in and roared it.

He looked frightening. Full of menace.

Wu Chen only frowned faintly. “You know, I really don’t like being cursed at. It seems you don’t want a proper conversation today. Fine. I’ll send you on your way.”

He took out his phone, tossed it onto the table, opened his contacts, found the number saved as Li Ruotai, and dialed.

Beep… beep…

“Hey, Brother-in-law!” It connected quickly, Li Ruotai’s voice warm and familiar. Before Wu Chen could say a word, he went on, “What timing, Brother-in-law. I was just about to call you. You beat me to it.”

The café was an enclosed space, and though full of people, it was quiet. Wu Chen had not put the call on speaker, but he had laid the phone flat on the table—so the men farther off could not make out the voice, while the bald man, seated close, could hear it perfectly.

His expression changed drastically. Of course he knew Li Ruotai’s voice.

Li Ruotai was calling this young man brother-in-law?

He knew who Wu Chen was in that instant. It landed. All Donghai had been talking these past few days, and the age fit too.

“Oh? You were going to call me? About what?” Wu Chen asked, smiling down at the phone.

“Brother-in-law, do you know about the business at Jinfu Group? I wanted to ask if you’d heard any of the inside story.”

“Jinfu… Yes, I know about it,” Wu Chen said, still smiling.

“You actually do?” Li Ruotai sounded surprised in turn, then pressed on immediately. “Then how did Su Qingying manage to—”

“You’re that curious?” Wu Chen cut in.

“Not really,” Li Ruotai said at once. “Just asking. We’re family, Brother-in-law. And you’re keeping things from me?”

“It’s complicated,” Wu Chen said.

“Then… we’ll talk when there’s time.” Li Ruotai caught the note in his voice and turned the conversation. “So what did you call about, Brother-in-law?”

“Nothing major. There’s a traitor near you. You’ll want to deal with him,” Wu Chen said with a smile, perfectly offhand.

The sound from the phone changed immediately.

“A traitor?”

The bald man flinched in the same instant. He slid out from behind the table and edged in at Wu Chen from the side. He seemed to want to do something—his hand even came up—but he did not dare go through with it.

“Fuck! Who? Who is it this time? Tell me, Brother-in-law. Fucking—” Li Ruotai’s voice had changed entirely. His temper really was a violent thing. “Tell me who it is, Brother-in-law. I’ll shoot him right now.”

Click-clack.

After he said it, the sound of a handgun being racked came through the background.

Li Ruotai had a habit of carrying a gun.

He had drawn it and chambered a round on the spot.

“He—” Wu Chen began.

Then, beside him, a thump.

He glanced down.

The bald middle-aged man had dropped to his knees at the side of Wu Chen’s chair. Hands pressed together, his face all pleading, he shook them at Wu Chen in desperation—and did not dare make a sound.