Chapter 168: Let's Make a Deal!

Chapter 168: Let's Make a Deal!

For the convenience of traveling gentry, merchants, celebrities, and tycoons to have a fixed residence where they could host friends from their hometowns, exchange pleasantries, build networks, and share resources, an emerging concept came into being: the clubhouse.

The Chunjiang Club was naturally a club established by people from Chunjiang, whom people often referred to as "Little Shanxi." As early as the Ming and Qing dynasties, there was a saying: "The wealthiest place under heaven is Shanxi, and the wealthiest place in Shanxi is Chunjiang."

Chunjiang was a fertile and prosperous region in Shanxi, which made the clubhouse built in Pearl City much more upscale than other provincial association halls. Of course, compared to supra-regional clubs like the Yangtze Club, the Huangpu River Club, or the Splendid Pavilion, it still fell slightly short.

The Chunjiang Club was also located on the Bund, where every inch of land was worth a fortune, and dropping a brick from the sky stood a good chance of hitting a billionaire. The Bund was not a financial district, yet it had the highest concentration of wealthy people. It was not a bustling downtown, yet it experienced massive foot traffic. Because of exorbitant rents and shop spaces, the items sold here were all labeled as "luxury goods," meaning that the people who came here to spend money were either wealthy or noble.

Tang Chong arrived at the entrance of the Chunjiang Club in a taxi. Looking at the unassuming yet extremely elegant pavilion facade, he felt a sense of unreality.

The living environment he frequently found himself in now, and the people he interacted with, were worlds apart from his old social circle back in Henshan County.

Magnificent, fantastical, draped in fragrant silks, riding in precious carriages, refined and suave. They did not curse, they did not pick at the dead skin on their heels or dig for boogers while talking or eating, they did not toil in the fields to transplant rice seedlings or harvest wheat, nor did they herd sheep up the mountains only to pluck a few wild berries from trees and wipe them on their sleeves before crunching into them.

Yet, they were far more sinister, vicious, and terrifyingly calculated.

The moment Tang Chong walked up to the club's entrance, a front desk supervisor dressed in a black suit with a wireless earpiece, along with greeting hostesses wearing red *qipaos* that revealed snowy-white thighs, pristine skin, and excellent poise, immediately came forward. They bowed slightly in unison, and the black-suited supervisor smiled and asked, "Good day, sir. Do you have a reservation?"

"I do," Tang Chong said. "The Man Ting Fang private room."

The builder of the Chunjiang Club was a man of refined taste. Every private room door was named after traditional *ci* poetry tunes, such as *Yanshan Pavilion*, *Qingmen Yin*, and *A Cluster of Flowers*, sounding profoundly poetic.

"Please wait a moment, valued guest. Let me verify it for you," the black-suited supervisor said.

Tang Chong’s brow twitched slightly, the displeasure on his face flashing and vanishing.

William Ji had clearly invited him to meet here, yet he hadn't bothered to give the staff outside a single word, leaving them to verify and making him wait. What was the meaning of this?

A psychological intimidation tactic? Or perhaps a reminder that a bumpkin from the countryside should strictly know his place in such a venue?

Know his place?

Tang Chong sneered inwardly.

The black-suited supervisor inquired with the inner-area supervisor, who then either entered the private room or called the host who booked it to consult. Only upon receiving confirmation would the guest be allowed inside.

Tang Chong was invited to the lounge area, where the service staff diligently served tea, their attitudes warm and polite. In such an upscale establishment, those clichés found in many novels—where one faces discrimination and harassment simply for wearing ordinary clothes and having an unremarkable appearance—did not happen.

After all, most big shots didn't actually look like big shots.

Just as Tang Chong was about to finish his cup of hot tea, and the greeting hostess was hesitating whether to step forward and ask if he needed a refill, the black-suited supervisor finally received the command from within: bring the guest in.

With that, the smile on the black-suited supervisor's face grew even warmer. He said, "Mr. Tang, your friend, Mr. Ji, invites you in."

Tang Chong placed his teacup down on the coffee table in front of him, smiling as he said, "We aren't friends. For all I know, we might be exchanging blows shortly."

The supervisor's expression froze for a second before he burst into laughter. "Mr. Tang, you certainly know how to joke."

With that, he exchanged a glance with the greeting hostess beside him, and she led Tang Chong deeper into the club. The inner quarters were the true core of the establishment.

Passing through corridors, traversing rockeries and fish ponds, and bypassing several more pavilions, they finally stopped in front of a row of independent courtyard gates.

"Sir, this is Man Ting Fang. Please go on in. I cannot enter," the guiding hostess said apologetically.

A place where others were forbidden to enter, yet he was allowed access—one had to admit that the person managing this club was quite talented. He deeply understood the human psychology of exclusivity, uniqueness, and supreme status, knowing precisely how to make people experience an intense sense of superiority.

Tang Chong nodded, lifted his foot to step inside, and was greeted by yet another hostess wearing a pristine white *qipao* of even higher beauty. She bowed slightly to Tang Chong, revealing a generous expanse of snowy cleavage, and smiled sweetly. "Sir, this way, please."

Tang Chong nodded and followed her into the courtyard, then into an independent private room at the easternmost end.

The hostess knocked lightly on the door, and a voice from within called out, "Come in." She pushed open the wooden door and bowed, inviting Tang Chong to enter.

After Tang Chong removed his shoes and stepped inside, she closed the wooden door and walked over to a lounge area on the other side to wait for any summons.

The private room was quite large, decorated in a Japanese style.

It was pleasantly warm inside, likely heated by underfloor heating or some other climate control system.

William Ji sat cross-legged with bare feet on the wooden flooring. Seeing Tang Chong enter, his gaze locked onto him with the sharp, piercing intensity of an eagle.

He stared unflinchingly at Tang Chong's expression, as if trying to see right through him and expose everything.

So focused was he that he even forgot to invite Tang Chong to take a seat and have some tea.

Tang Chong didn't wait for his invitation either; he walked over, sat down opposite him, and returned the contemplative gaze.

"You look alike. Truly alike," William Ji said, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile. "Uncannily alike."

"You made me spend over sixty yuan on taxi fare just to tell me that?" Tang Chong asked expressionlessly. "If that's the case, you'll have to reimburse me to make my conscience feel a bit better."

"Tang Chong, are you quite proud of having such a sharp tongue?" William Ji asked, looking at Tang Chong solemnly with a sneer.

"It's alright, I suppose," Tang Chong didn't bother to be modest. He had out-cursed shrewish hoodlums back in Henshan County; these "noble folks" who viewed swearing as disgraceful were hardly a challenge.

"For a man, verbal attacks are the most feeble and impotent weapons," William Ji declared, visibly showing contempt for Tang Chong's petty words and small tricks.

"Go fuck your mother," Tang Chong said.

William Ji's expression shifted drastically, and he raged, "Tang Chong, do you even know what you're doing?"

"I do," Tang Chong smiled. "I am proving to you that verbal attacks can still be quite useful sometimes... You could call me a 'filthy scumbag and degenerate' a hundred times, and it wouldn't feel nearly as satisfying or forceful as me cursing your mother once. Aren't you feeling terribly stifled right now? Don't you want to curse back just like me? But you mustn't, you know. Otherwise, wouldn't you be slapping your own face after just claiming that verbal attacks are a man's most feeble weapons?"

William Ji's complexion turned from white to pale green, from green to purple, and then back to white.

Managing to restrain himself from dropping into a vulgar tirade like Tang Chong, he managed to say, "If you take pride in that, I have nothing more to say. But let me tell you, my counterattack won't be neutralized by a couple of vulgar words."

"Go fuck your mother," Tang Chong said again.

*Crack—*

William Ji slammed a palm down onto the table and roared in uncontrollable fury, "Tang Chong, do you have any shame left at all? What gives you the right to be so arrogant in front of me? Do you realize you have a fatal weakness in my hands right now? Do you believe I can turn you into a pile of dog shit right this second? Do you believe I can leak the dirty little secret between you and Tang Xin to the media right now?"

Tang Chong fixed a cold, piercing gaze on William Ji and said, "What I find strange is that since you could have just done that and caught me off guard, why call me over here to tell me about it instead?"

"What? You don't believe me?"

"It's not that I don't believe you've gathered evidence; it's that I don't believe you're a good person," Tang Chong said.

"That's right. I am not a good person. Especially not when dealing with my enemies," William Ji threatened, sounding like he was spouting hollow macho nonsense. *You shouldn't provoke me, when I get ruthless I even terrify myself.* "The reason I brought you here with this evidence instead of sending it directly to the media is because I want to make a deal with you—"

"First, tell me what you've found out," Tang Chong interrupted. "It would be too foolish to negotiate a deal with you without even knowing what cards you're holding. Don't look at my face and assume I'm stupid; I'm actually not stupid at all."

"You really refuse to give up until you hit a brick wall," William Ji sneered. "Without sufficient evidence, would I alert you and call you over here to lay my cards on the table?"

He reached beside him, picked up a brown paper envelope, and tossed it across the table. "Inside are photographs of you and Tang Xin. Through computer facial comparison, numerous matching points were found... Furthermore, I had someone monitor the front gates of the Ziyuan residential complex. I found that you frequently enter Ziyuan, yet Tang Xin has never once walked out of it. Meanwhile, during the days Tang Xin supposedly came out to attend events or rehearsals, you never once came out of Ziyuan. Can you explain to me what this is all about?"

Tang Chong untied the string of the brown paper envelope. Inside were photographs of himself and Tang Xin, along with various comparative data analyses. It seemed William Ji was a meticulous person who had been working on this for quite some time.

Additionally, he saw many concert photographs inside the envelope.

"I have to admit, you and Tang Xin look remarkably alike. Truly alike. If it weren't for the fact that you inadvertently beat someone up, and that person made an offhand comment that made me suspect your relationship with Tang Xin... I'm afraid nobody would ever have guessed that Tang Xin uses a body double. Also, I've watched Tang Xin's past performance videos; given her physical condition, it is simply impossible for her to execute opening moves like mid-air backflips. Her voice has also changed significantly. It seems she's using some kind of audio-modulation device I'm unfamiliar with," William Ji said triumphantly, proud of being the first to uncover such a top-secret scandal. "Now, can you tell me where the real Tang Xin has gone?"

Tang Chong tossed the brown paper envelope onto the low table in front of him and said, "Let's make a deal."