Chapter 0080: Play However You Like

"Alright, calm down. Go on, don’t worry—I’m a fair person. As long as you confess honestly, I won’t kill you,” Zhang Xiaofan said with a smile.

“Yes, yes, I’ll tell you everything,” Liu Feng replied hastily. “These Japanese samurai wanted to sell drugs in the clubs, so they approached Young Master Long, promising to help him expand his power.”

“Look, this is the drug.” Liu Feng pulled a small packet from his pocket. “Once you take it, it’s like you’re in paradise—your blood feels like it’s on fire. They want to sell one pill for ten thousand.”

Zhang Xiaofan took it, sniffed it, and his anger instantly flared. “Damn it, this is even more dangerous than high-grade meth. Filthy Japanese devils.”

He kicked Kimura Tanino furiously, his wrath pouring into that single blow. Even if Kimura didn’t die, he’d be crippled for life.

“Get out of here,” Zhang Xiaofan said coldly.

Liu Feng, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted, took his terrified underlings—who were so scared they nearly wet themselves—and fled.

“Thank you,” Yin Rou Rou said gently.

“It’s nothing, just a small favor. I’ll take you home,” Zhang Xiaofan replied.

As he spoke, he took Yin Rou Rou by the arm. “Let’s take my car.”

“Thank you,” she said, happiness lighting up her face. Her idol was actually going to drive her home personally.

When they reached the Cayenne, Zhang Xiaofan let Yin Rou Rou climb in first, then walked over to Feng Qingyang and whispered a few words in his ear. Those Japanese intended to sell this stuff in KTVs and bars—it was a line that could not be crossed. Whether they’d sold any yet or not, it had to be thoroughly investigated.

No one was better suited to handle it than Feng Qingyang. Zhang Xiaofan told him to focus primarily on all of Longteng’s businesses.

As for Young Master Long, Zhang Xiaofan would pay him a visit soon enough—let him reunite with his father.

Bidding farewell to Feng Qingyang and the others, Zhang Xiaofan started the Cayenne. He remembered he’d driven Yin Rou Rou home before; the Wanhua Mansion District wasn’t far.

On the way, Yin Rou Rou blushed and couldn’t muster the courage to speak. She just gazed dazedly at Zhang Xiaofan as he drove.

She was nothing like the bold, big-sister figure he’d first met in senior year, Class 2.

After about twenty minutes, they arrived.

“Here we are,” Zhang Xiaofan said, glancing at the dazed Yin Rou Rou. “I won’t walk you in. I know I’m handsome, but you don’t have to stare at me like that. If you really can’t help yourself, I’ll let you kiss me.”

“No way…” Yin Rou Rou’s cheeks flushed an even deeper red, but suddenly, courage surged through her. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“I’m going!” she blurted, then quickly got out of the car.

“Damn, another stolen kiss. Is this necessary? At least give me some warning,” Zhang Xiaofan muttered, savoring the lingering scent.

He turned the car around, ready to head home. Who knew if President Lin was cursing him in the villa at this very moment?

Just as he set off, his phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he saw it was Song Wenwen. They’d only met once, but he remembered her—Ouyang Xue’s best friend, with curves that defied reason—a real bombshell.

She’d gotten his number back when they had dinner at the Haitian Hotel.

He answered, and was immediately greeted by the deafening roar of engines and a cacophony of shouts. He wondered what on earth this girl was getting up to.

“Hey, little Fan, hurry and come to me, or your big sister will be ravaged! If you don’t save me, I’ll be someone else’s tonight!” Song Wenwen’s pleading voice came through.

“Miss Song, are you calling for backup? It’s useless. Jinghai’s car king is here—even if you call someone, it won’t help.” In the background, Zhang Xiaofan heard a man’s voice.

It dawned on him—so this girl was racing again. But why call him? He wasn’t her boyfriend…

Still, since she reached out, she must think highly of him. And she was a beauty—why not help? It had been a while since he’d raced, anyway; might as well have some fun.

“Where are you?” Zhang Xiaofan asked.

“Northern District, Canglong Mountain,” Song Wenwen replied.

“Wait there for me,” he said, then slammed on the accelerator, changing direction toward the north side of the city.

Canglong Mountain, in Jinghai’s northern district, looked from afar like a dragon hidden among the hills—hence the name. The mountain wasn’t tall—its highest point barely reached two hundred meters—and the terrain wasn’t steep. Decades ago, a winding road was built through it; before the cross-sea bridge was completed, it was the only route to the next city.

Now, few people traveled that way, except those looking to save on tolls. The road was still in good condition, but deserted—making it something of a local Akina Mountain, a sanctuary for street racers.

Nearly every night, thrill-seekers gathered here to race.

It was already past ten, nearly eleven o’clock. The night was pitch-black. In an open area at the mountain’s base, more than a dozen luxury cars were parked—sleek coupes worth hundreds of thousands, sports cars worth millions, and even a few top-tier models valued at tens of millions.

A crowd of young men and women mingled, their excitement palpable. Loud music pounded, dazzling lights flashed, and the young women’s revealing outfits made the scene even wilder. Curves bounced, drawing every man’s gaze, and some couples unabashedly kissed atop their car hoods.

Atop a red Mercedes-Benz sports car, Song Wenwen sat in a black lace tank top, her fair skin glowing under the lights, exuding irresistible allure.

Skin-tight pants accentuated her long, shapely legs.

“Hey, gorgeous, it’s been almost an hour. Where’s your friend? You’re not planning to cheat, are you?” teased a tall man beside her. He wore an earring, flamboyant clothes, and wasn’t bad-looking.

“Me, cheat? It’s just a race. If you hadn’t brought Mu Han, do you really think you could beat me?” Song Wenwen snapped. “Give it ten more minutes. If my friend doesn’t show, I’ll race you again. If I lose, I’m yours for the night—I keep my word.”

“Heh, alright, I’ll give you ten more minutes. Let’s see who you’ve managed to invite.” The man’s name was Xu Changqing. He was a local tycoon in Jinghai, owning several large malls with assets in the billions.

He was a frequent racer here and knew Song Wenwen well. He’d always wanted to sleep with her but never got the chance, since he couldn’t beat her in a race.

This time, he’d spent a fortune to hire the car king, Mu Han, setting a trap for Song Wenwen—a best-of-three series. If she lost, she’d spend the night with him.

Song Wenwen was always true to her word. Xu Changqing knew her character—if she made a bet, she’d follow through, even if it meant spending the night with him.

So, waiting another ten minutes didn’t matter. Besides, even if someone showed up, with Mu Han here, the result wouldn’t change. Tonight, Song Wenwen would be his.

Song Wenwen waited anxiously. She wasn’t sure why she’d asked Zhang Xiaofan for help—maybe it was a woman’s intuition, or maybe she hoped he’d swoop in and whisk her away.

Time ticked by, and the ten minutes quickly passed.

“Alright, it’s been half an hour. Miss Song, your friend doesn’t seem to be coming,” Xu Changqing said coolly, eyes burning with desire as he stared at her, especially the pale curve of her chest. He couldn’t help swallowing, eager to pounce.

“What are you staring at? It’s just—” Song Wenwen was about to say “it’s just one night,” when the distant roar of an engine cut her off.

“My friend is here!” she exclaimed.

At this hour, it could only be Zhang Xiaofan.

She stood up at once and hurried to the entrance to greet him.

“Damn, who the hell is actually coming?” Xu Changqing grumbled, annoyed. He strode over to a young man not far away—his face pale as a woman’s, rivaling Nangong Haotian’s androgynous beauty.

The sound of the engine sent ripples through the crowd of car enthusiasts—everyone’s face changed, especially Xu Changqing’s. That thunderous roar meant the car was fitted with a booster. Could Song Wenwen really have invited an expert?

To everyone’s astonishment, a silver Cayenne sped toward them, executed a perfect ninety-degree drift, and parked steadily right in front of the crowd.

On the way, as Zhang Xiaofan had been feeling impatient, he’d slapped the steering wheel and accidentally activated a button—only then did he realize Lin Siyu’s Cayenne had been modified with a booster as well.

Clearly, Lin Siyu had once been passionate about racing herself. Her garage certainly suggested as much.

“Ha, I thought it’d be something special, but it’s just a damn Cayenne!” Xu Changqing sneered. The Cayenne was worth less than two million, while his own car was a Ferrari LaFerrari worth over twenty million.

Of course, Mu Han had only used a standard coupe when beating Song Wenwen earlier.

“Xiaofan, you finally made it…” Song Wenwen relaxed the moment she saw him step out of the Cayenne. She couldn’t explain why, but she believed he could win the race for her.

“How could I say no when a beauty calls?” Zhang Xiaofan grinned, his eyes boldly roaming over her. She looked almost too tempting tonight.

“So, you lost and now you’re supposed to spend the night with someone?” he teased. “If you have to, why not with me? You’re too pretty for anyone else.”

“Fine. If you win this race for me, I’ll be yours tonight—do whatever you want,” Song Wenwen replied with a playful smile.

“Deal,” Zhang Xiaofan chuckled. “Who am I racing? Let’s get on with it—it’s getting late.”