At first, I thought this industry would be clean. But over time, I realized it was anything but.
I ran into many old friends from my underworld days in this line of work. The tactics they used were ruthless—snatching a piece of the pie from them felt harder than climbing to the sky. But I'd sold off all my previous businesses; I couldn't let this money go to waste in my hands.
So I handed the land acquisition work to Liu Feng, telling him, "As long as no one dies and no traces lead back to us, go all out. I'll cover the costs."
Liu Feng delivered brilliantly. That fake car accident trick? I really liked it. But luring prostitutes and reporters to smear competitors? That was even smarter, in my book.
With Liu Feng and Xu Bing backing me, I secured numerous plots of land, and the business grew by leaps and bounds. By 2009, I'd made a fortune. My first move was to build my own company headquarters, naming it Xincheng Group.
At first, I'd wanted to call it Fangyun Group, after Li Fang and our son. But then I realized this company would soon be mired in dirty deeds—I couldn't bear to sully my wife and child's names. In the end, I used my own.
In 2010, when the group's tower was completed, I sat in the chairman's office, feeling pretty good at first. After all, I now had a building to call my own.
But bad news kept pouring in, making me irritable. During that time, my subordinates barely reported anything positive. Several of Xincheng Group's developments were ordered to halt construction and fined by authorities after breaking ground. When we sent people to reapply for construction permits, the officials suddenly raised the standards to the highest level, leaving our staff empty-handed after multiple trips.
At first, I was confused. We'd set aside funds to grease palms for every project—why all these problems? Had someone embezzled the money?
I called Liu Feng in and told him to get to the bottom of it.
Later, Liu Feng took the officials who'd been harassing our construction sites out for a meal, with some young, pretty women to keep them company. After plying them with wine and slipping each a carton of cigarettes and a thick red envelope, the truth spilled out.
A new leader had been transferred to their department, overseeing this exact area—and he seemed to have a vendetta against Xincheng Group. He'd ordered his subordinates to keep tabs on us, even hinting that if they couldn't find faults, they'd regret it.
Infuriated, I told Liu Feng to dig up dirt on this new leader.
Guess what? His name was Meng Danmin—and he was another relative of Meng Wei's!
How many relatives did that bastard Meng Wei have, all out to get me?
I exploded, shouting at Liu Feng, "Find out! Dig up every single relative of Meng Wei's—on his father's side, his mother's side! I want to see just what kind of new breed of bandits his family really is!"
Liu Feng didn't respond right away. Instead, he handed me a photo and a letter.
I glanced at the photo: a grave with an inscribed headstone, bearing the name of the contact I'd hired two years earlier. He was dead?
I tore open the letter and read it hastily:
"Boss Huang, two years ago you hired my husband to investigate something. He found out the truth but feared the culprit would track him down if he told you then, so he planned to wait two years. But they found out he was digging, and had someone kill him in a drunk driving 'accident.' The drunk driver only got two years. I'm begging you—when he gets out, please kill him for me! I'm begging you!"
Questions swarmed me, and Liu Feng answered them one by one:
"His wife wrote this. You had him investigate my brother's death. He found out but got scared, wanting to wait a few years to tell you."
"So who killed your brother?"
Liu Feng said, "Meng Wei."
"..."
Liu Feng went on, "He'd been harassing me, and my brother stood up for you. Meng Wei held a grudge, biding his time to get back at my brother. During that anti-gang crackdown, he reported my brother's operations. After my brother was jailed, Meng Wei bribed someone to transfer him to a specific cell—where they had men waiting. That's how he died."
I froze, pressing a hand to my eyes, thinking for a long time.
Maybe people like Meng Wei, once they hated someone, clung to that hatred for life. He'd hounded me for seventeen years—seventeen years. Was that not enough?
I asked Liu Feng, "Is Meng Wei married?"
"His family arranged a marriage, but the woman thought he was a thug and left him."
"Any kids?"
"No."
"Good… If someone like him had kids, that would truly be a scourge passed down for generations."
I took a deep breath and sank back into my chair.
"Liu Feng, do we know who stabbed your brother in the cell?"
"Yes."
"Do we know which prison the drunk driver who killed my contact is in, and when he gets out?"
"Yes."
"Do we know where Meng Wei lives?"
"Yes."
"Good. You handle it."
...