Chapter Thirty-Five: Could There Truly Be Good Fortune?

With the land secured, it was necessary to make something of it; otherwise, leaving it idle like Zhao Fan would have been pointless, and it might have been better not to take the project at all. Chu Dong had yet to decide what to do, so he drove alone to the plot he’d bought for thirty million to seek inspiration.

The land was oddly situated, surrounded on all sides by Haifeng Group’s holdings, less than a kilometer from the coast, trapped like a beast in a cage, bleak and desolate amid the vast wasteland. In theory, the plot was worth far more than a hundred million; it had been acquired early and used to settle debts, so the price was heavily discounted.

Nearly a hundred thousand square meters, uneven and pitted, covered only by wild green grass and scattered rocks. Just a few kilometers away, Haifeng was developing luxury residences, but they wouldn’t let others piggyback on their success. Thus, the land felt like a chicken’s rib—of little use, not worth the trouble—no wonder Zhao Fan had given up so easily.

He sketched and scribbled in his pocket notebook, and the morning passed quickly. Feeling hungry, Chu Dong turned back, trudging across the rough ground toward his car parked by the distant roadside.

Before he reached his car, the distinctive roar of a Porsche echoed nearby. A pale yellow sports car approached from afar. Chu Dong’s eyesight was keen; he saw a young man at the wheel, a beautiful woman in the passenger seat, her long hair streaming in the wind. As they passed his car, the woman's exquisite face, shielded by oversized pink sunglasses, seemed to glance at him, but the car sped past without slowing, leaving only a rush of wind.

“Show-off… I’ve grown tired of driving tanks,” Chu Dong muttered to himself. The thought amused him—he was just a passerby, no need for envy. If Tan Xue were by his side, never mind a Porsche; even a donkey cart would look more dashing than a Ferrari.

He climbed into his car, about to start the engine, when he noticed the Porsche had returned, reversing with remarkable speed.

The driver took off his sunglasses and gave Chu Dong a disdainful smirk. “Did you change your car, or did you rummage through the trash heap to fix up that old thing?”

“Tian Bing.” Chu Dong remembered—this was the elder brother of Tian Hai, whom Xiao Yu’er had summoned him to meet at her school gate last time. Word had it he was the young master of Hongfa Industries.

“Heh, after your Optimus Prime got wrecked, you went and got a Bumblebee? You really are a prodigal. Want to compete with me again to see who can smash cars better?” To Chu Dong, their last conflict seemed like a playful spat between friends; he grinned as if greeting an old acquaintance.

“You? I could smash a car a day and you'd be left without pants.” Tian Bing’s anger flared—repairing that Hummer had cost more than an Audi, and he’d given Chu Dong a harsh lesson. This Porsche was borrowed from a friend, but his bravado was boosted by the beauty beside him.

“Right, compared to you—the rich, young, and extravagant—I’m just a small fry, not worth your trouble. But my humble strength shouldn’t go to waste. How about I give you a hard time again today?” Chu Dong made a show of spitting into his palm and opened his car door, searching for something.

“I don’t have time to mess with you, punk. When I’m free, I’ll play with you.” Tian Bing was genuinely afraid Chu Dong would smash his car again; he floored the accelerator and the Porsche vanished.

Chu Dong burst out laughing—Tian Bing was clearly less patient than Wang Dongliang; such opponents were only good for amusement, hardly worth the effort.

Driving toward the city, Chu Dong received a call. On the line was Xiao Yu’er, urgent and agitated. “Brother-in-law, tomorrow’s Sunday and our school is organizing a field trip. Those damned Brotherhood guys have rented two luxury coaches. I refuse to ride their bus, you’ve got to put them in their place!”

Chu Dong was amused. This girl was nothing like her quiet sister—she was brash, a little firecracker.

“How do you want me to do that? Should I rent ten coaches, ride one, and have nine follow behind?” he joked.

“Brother-in-law, if I knew what to do, would I ask you? Don’t you want my sister’s childhood diary? Anyway, I’m not letting this go, so do something about it!” Xiao Yu’er now treated Chu Dong as her personal Doraemon, calling him for every problem.

“Let me think about it. I’ll call you back.” Chu Dong hung up, tossed the headset aside, and turned his car toward Qiangzi’s place.

“I’m at your door, come open up,” Chu Dong said as he got out and closed the car door, dialing Qiangzi.

“How did you know I was home?” Qiangzi was still in bed, annoyed at the interruption. He was about to curse, but stopped himself when he heard it was Chu Dong.

“Don’t be silly. I know exactly when your nightlife ends. Stop wasting time and open the door.”

After hanging up, Chu Dong stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited downstairs. When he heard the security door click open, he headed up.

The newly built gated community was where Qiangzi had emphasized his independence by buying a three-bedroom apartment, finally escaping his parents’ supervision. No matter how late he came home, there’d be no nagging. It was also a meeting point for him, Haozi, and Chu Dong.

“You’re here so early—what’s up?” Qiangzi, barefoot and wrapped in a silk robe, came to open the door.

“I’m returning your car. Can’t keep hogging it forever. Besides, as a boss, I shouldn’t take advantage of a small-time salesman like you.” Chu Dong closed the door, kicked off his shoes, and sprawled on the sofa in the spacious living room. “Turn on the air conditioning. What, a few electricity bills will bankrupt you?”

“This thing’s too powerful. I didn’t turn it on for fear of catching a cold while sleeping,” Qiangzi said, switching on the AC, letting a refreshing coolness fill the room.

“That’s more like it. Right, I need a favor.” Chu Dong folded his hands behind his head and crossed his legs with ease.

“I knew it—returning the car is just an excuse. Like the old man says, drawing back a fist is for a stronger punch. You’re just setting things up. No way! Last time you said you’d borrow it for a day, but it was months before you returned it. What are you trying to wrangle out of me now? Forget it!” Qiangzi shook his head like a rattle drum.

“Is that all you aspire to? So narrow-minded, always seeing me in the same old way.” Chu Dong scoffed, “Fine, since you’re so quick to refuse, don’t say I don’t share the good stuff. Those young ladies… I can’t handle them all alone…”

“Really?” At the mention of young ladies, Qiangzi’s righteous indignation vanished instantly, and he sidled up shamelessly.