Chapter 139: Did I Ask You to Change?

Several people turned around and saw a man with a curly Afro hairstyle sticking his head out of a car window.

At first glance, Chai Jin thought it was just a tuft of fur talking to them.

He stared for a long time before finally making out the guy’s facial features.

Cross-eyed, with a ruddy nose from heavy drinking, and a small face—he looked just like one of those prized fighting dogs from the old neighborhood.

Yu Pengfei, a hot-tempered Northeasterner, gripped his large, old-fashioned mobile phone—both a symbol of status and a weapon—and charged forward.

“Hey, you little punk, say that to me again and see what happens!”

The man with the poodle-like curls froze for a moment.

Seeing both of them clutching those bulky phones that marked their rank and influence, he realized they were not to be trifled with.

He quickly ducked back and slammed the gas pedal, speeding off.

The tires splashed through a puddle, soaking Yu Pengfei.

Yu Pengfei was furious and raised a brick-shaped phone as if to smash it.

But Chai Jin grabbed him urgently: “Pengfei, it’s not worth it. That thing costs tens of thousands—don’t waste it.”

“So damn infuriating!” Yu Pengfei seethed, but cooled down enough not to give chase.

He muttered curses as he walked, and Chai Jin followed silently.

They didn’t stop cursing until they reached the entrance.

At the doorway, a sea of people pressed in, all anxious and eager to catch a glimpse of Nievonov.

But reality was harsh: no matter who you were, only those holding an invitation would be allowed in by the disguised guards.

Yu Pengfei and Nievonov had crossed paths many times in the Soviet Union, so Yu recognized these guards immediately.

They were admitted without hesitation.

The guards led them directly to the second floor.

Upstairs, there were three private rooms, each with a dining table.

One was filled with big-time resellers who had chased business from the north.

Another table hosted prominent local business figures from Shen City, with Deputy Mayor Zheng Hejin mingling among them.

The last table was reserved solely for Yu Pengfei, Chai Jin, and the soon-to-arrive Nievonov.

After having a drink with the resellers, Nievonov left and went straight to join Zheng Hejin’s group.

Upon entering, the local business elites at the table rose to greet him, including two acquaintances of Chai Jin: Chen Nianhua and He Zhijun.

Nievonov’s expression was stern.

He ignored the others and spoke only in Russian with Zheng Hejin.

When they finished, Zheng Hejin smiled: “Professor, I brought some fine things for you.”

He then instructed his secretary to bring over a case of Xiao Li Baijiu.

“This liquor is said to be a royal recipe—I believe you will appreciate it.”

Nievonov, a connoisseur of fine spirits, visibly softened upon seeing the baijiu.

He smiled and said, “You know me best.”

Without toasting anyone, the Russian took a large swig straight from the bottle, savoring it before giving Zheng Hejin a thumbs up.

The two resumed their conversation.

The others at the table felt awkward; they couldn’t understand the Russian exchange and couldn’t find a chance to join in.

Nievonov had no intention of engaging with them, making the atmosphere tense.

Chen Nianhua, ever the sly one, observed carefully and soon understood.

He ordered his men to bring in a case of Maotai from outside.

Zheng Hejin looked puzzled: “Boss Chen, what’s this about?”

Chen laughed heartily, waiting for a response: “Deputy Mayor Zheng, Mr. Nievonov rarely visits Shen City.”

“As the host, we must offer the very best.”

“This liquor is the true national spirit of China; the one you hold is just a bit lacking.”

He refrained from saying “inferior” to avoid embarrassing Zheng Hejin.

But the implication was clear.

Those sharp enough at the table caught on quickly, yet no one spoke up.

The unspoken message was: we’d be thrilled if you offended both Nievonov and Zheng Hejin.

After all, that would mean one less competitor.

Sure enough, Zheng Hejin’s face darkened.

Seeing Chen’s men preparing to swap the liquor, he snapped, “Did I tell you to change it?”

“Uh...” Chen’s men looked to him uncertainly.

Chen himself grew embarrassed.

He Zhijun, sitting nearby, quickly tried to diffuse the tension: “Old Chen, you don’t have to drink Maotai every time.”

“I’ve had Xiao Li Baijiu too—different style, mellow and approachable. I think it’s quite good.”

Cold sweat appeared on Chen’s forehead as he scrambled for an excuse: “Yes, yes, Xiao Li Baijiu is good too.”

He hurriedly told his men to take back the Maotai.

He then sat down quietly, no longer daring to speak.

The others shook their heads inwardly.

The recent scandal in Shen City’s stock market had just settled, and the city had barely restored its image.

Now, suddenly parading a bottle of Maotai to entertain Zheng Hejin—wasn’t that dragging him into the fire?

How would people interpret Zheng’s reputation if this got out?

Everyone in Shen City knew Zheng Hejin’s character: a man of the old school, yes, but he never touched high-end liquor and maintained a clean image.

No one understood how Chen could operate here.

Mocking and scornful glances were exchanged.

But the awkwardness persisted.

Nievonov continued his Russian conversation with Zheng Hejin, paying no attention to the others.

...

Chai Jin waited a long time inside without seeing Nievonov come over.

Yu Pengfei had asked a couple of times but, considering the teacher-student reunion and the presence of a deputy mayor, he didn’t press further.

They could only wait patiently.

Unbeknownst to Chai Jin, several more people entered the hall outside.

One was Chen Ni; the other He Kai.

They had been brought along by their fathers.

First, to give them some worldly exposure.

Second, to provide more opportunities for them to spend time alone.

Chen Ni sat silently by the window, gazing outside.

He Kai, too proud to engage, noticed Chen Ni’s cold profile and, somewhat unable to control himself, rose and headed toward the restroom.

Someone followed behind him.

As they passed by a private room, the occupants inside were momentarily stunned.

Especially Yu Pengfei: “Is that the curly-haired foreigner we saw outside earlier?”

Chai Jin gave a wry smile: “Seems like it.”

But Chai Jin hadn’t noticed He Kai walking past.

Yu Pengfei’s anger flared up again.

He stood abruptly: “Brother, wait here for me. I haven’t settled this yet!”

With that, he stormed out the door, furious.

Chai Jin sighed helplessly and said to the monk with them: “Monk, go help Mr. Yu; don’t let him take a loss.”

The monk nodded and followed after him.

...

A few minutes later, Yu Pengfei returned.

What struck Chai Jin as odd was that Yu Pengfei held a handful of curly hair in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other.

Chai Jin blinked, confused: “Pengfei, I thought you went to beat someone up? Why are you holding a bunch of curls?”

“Where else would they come from? I went to give someone a haircut.”