"Forget it. Then what would happen to this car?" Hearing that Yang Yanzhou meant to trade it in, Chen Shutang was delighted that Yang Ce valued her opinion so highly, but there was no need to change cars just because she did not like it—that would make her downright overbearing.

"It's no trouble. I'll just give this car to my father's company. A plate like that actually carries some face when the company goes to negotiate business. I'll buy another one—or simply not buy one at all. From now on you can just drive me around." Yang Yanzhou said.

"That works too." Hearing that the car could go to Yang Ce's father's company, Chen Shutang was reassured. "By the way, I looked it up on Autohome online—the Audi A5 you mentioned really is quite pretty, but isn't it a bit too expensive?"

"Expensive?" Yang Puqi was stunned. He thought to himself: the very reason I chose the Audi A5 was that I did not want you driving too expensive a car. If I wanted you in something expensive, I'd have bought you a Ferrari or a Lamborghini. "This car really isn't that expensive—it counts as cheap among sports cars."

"All right then, it's your call." How could Chen Shutang fail to read Yang Juehuan's expression? When she said the car was expensive, that startled look on his face surely meant he thought the car was already cheap enough—but Chen Shutang simply did not want to be so extravagant.

"Mm. Then I'll have a friend place the order. We'll deal with the license plate question after the car arrives—whatever numbers you like, you can pick them out yourself online then." Since Chen Shutang did not want too fine a plate, they could simply choose any set of numbers she liked from the online selection.

This was just what Chen Shutang had in mind. The media were quick to pick up on things these days, and although Yang Ce was the one buying her car, it was hard to avoid some ill-intentioned people dragging her father into it.

Amid their laughter and conversation, Liu Baoqiang led Yang Ce and the others to Baoshun Spicy Hotpot on Xinhe Road in the city's southern district.

The scale of Liu Baoqiang's family hotpot restaurant was nothing to scoff at—two floors above and below—and the sheer number of cars parked outside made it plain that business was indeed booming, the kind of trade that rakes in gold by the day.

Still, a luxury car like Yang Cenbin's was not often seen around here. Of course, "luxury car" referred not only to the model but also to the plate on it.

The guards here all recognized Liu Baoqiang's Santana—it belonged to the young master of the house—so the moment it rolled into the lot, a smiling guard hurried over to park it for him. For Yang Cenbin's car, the guard in charge was even more eager.

But when Yang Ce and Chen Shutang got out and walked into the hotpot restaurant chatting and laughing with Liu Baoqiang and the others, the guards all clicked their tongues in astonishment. Who on earth were these friends the young master had brought today, to be so damn impressive?

The number on that temporary plate on the BMW had been noted by quite a few attentive people in Songjiang; everyone knew it was Baolin's plate. But this newly mounted plate was known to far fewer—it was merely an impressive number, enough to make people instinctively assume the owner was no ordinary person.

"Yang Ce, Mengyan, make yourselves at home here." Liu Ting walked ahead, half turning back as she spoke. "Isn't that right, Xiaoqiang?"

"That's right, that's right." Liu Baoqiang nodded hastily. "Come on, let's go up to a private room." With that, he waved a hand and summoned the hotel's lobby manager.

"Young Master Liu, you've come." The lobby manager naturally knew Liu Baoqiang, the general manager's son, and greeted him politely.

"Sister Wang, find us a quiet private room." Liu Baoqiang put on no airs. Since the lobby manager was a little older, he addressed her warmly as Sister Wang, unlike certain rich kids who barked orders at the hired hands in the family business.

"Young Master Liu, it's almost the dinner rush right now—all the private rooms are booked." Sister Wang looked somewhat put out.

"Ah, all booked." Liu Baoqiang was taken aback, momentarily at a loss. Ordinarily, when he and Liu Ting came alone, it did not matter—they could just eat in the main hall. But today he had brought friends he had only just met, and if they sat in the hall, he wondered whether Liu Ting would feel she had lost face.

Unable to decide, Liu Baoqiang turned to Liu Ting, hoping she would make the call. Liu Ting was not one to fret over face, but having come to her boyfriend's family restaurant and not even getting a private room was really a bit much. After a moment's thought she asked, "Are there no customers who booked and then didn't show?"

"Not so far." Sister Wang shook her head, then suddenly said, "Oh, that's right—there's a large private room upstairs. The party who booked it said they'd only be six, but there's an empty table beside theirs. How about I screen it off with a folding partition and you sit over there?"

Hearing this, Liu Baoqiang felt it was the most sensible solution available, so he nodded. "Let's do that, then."

Sister Wang answered and went upstairs to arrange things, while Liu Baoqiang turned to Yang Ce and Chen Shutang with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry—I didn't think there'd be no private rooms left."

"What does it matter? It just means your family's hotpot is good and the place is packed." Yang Hengye said. "Worst comes to worst, eating in the main hall is just the same."

Seeing that Yang Ce showed not a trace of the rich young master's temper, Liu Baoqiang's goodwill toward him surged, and he said gratefully, "Another day—another day I'll book a private room in advance and treat you all to a proper feast. Today's just to line the stomach; we've still got a class reunion to attend in a bit."

Before long Sister Wang had everything arranged, and she led Liu Baoqiang and the three others up to the private room on the upper floor. It was a large room with two tables, now divided down the middle by a folding screen, and Yang Ce and the others took the table toward the back.

Since they had come to Liu Baoqiang's territory, the privilege of ordering was handed to him—he was, after all, the young master of the house and surely knew what was good here.

Not knowing everyone's tastes, Liu Baoqiang picked out mostly crowd-pleasers, dishes that were reliably delicious, and ordered a whole table's worth.

Zhou Xiaoming had just ascended to the manager's seat at the demolition company, and he was in high spirits. This was a post with rich pickings—truly an occasion worth celebrating.

So today Zhou Xiaoming had gathered a few of his trusted men and come to Baoshun Spicy Hotpot on Xinhe Road in the southern district. The spicy hotpot here was distinctive; he and Wei Dekang had come once before and found it good, so today he was treating a few of his confidants here.

He had phoned ahead to book a private room, and the other end said there were no small rooms left, only a large one with a minimum spend of five hundred yuan. Zhou Xiaoming had not minded and simply booked it.

To be continued.

913. Screwed to Death (Part One)

913 Screwed to Death, Part One. Wherever there are people, there is competition—that saying is not wrong in the least.

Zhou Xiaoming and Ma Fengzi were both trusted men of Wei Dekang, one handling the pen and one the fist, and both stood high in his confidence. Yet the personal relationship between the two was not good at all.

In truth, today's business world bears a resemblance to the officialdom of old. For instance, an emperor might have two favored ministers, but those two favorites could never stand on the same side—and the emperor would never allow them to.