Chapter Sixty-Two: Hall Master Zhang Black-Hair!

An Lan was taken aback, gazing at him in surprise. She couldn't tell whether he was showing concern for her, or simply eager to be rid of his temporary bodyguard duties. She wanted to ask, but dared not voice her curiosity, fearing disappointment. All she could do was maintain her composure and reply calmly, “Yes, everything is more or less ready.”

“In two days, there will be a banquet of gratitude at the Imperial Hotel. At that time, the final candidate for the An family’s proxy will be announced. Additionally, I’ll choose a strategic partner, to oversee the cooperation between the An family and the other party, ensuring there are no problems along the way. But since the Pei family has failed twice at assassination, I fear they won’t give up easily, so I chose to take the initiative. I sent them an invitation, so they’ll be attending as well.”

Upon hearing this, Ye Wushang’s heart stirred. The Imperial Hotel—wasn’t that the very place where he and Lan Ruoxue had divorced? Though there was nothing left between them, recalling the three years they’d shared still moved him.

As for the so-called strategic partner, he had little interest. He simply wanted to resolve matters with the Pei family quickly, then run the noodle shop with his sister, steadily improve his cultivation, and, when the time was right, go to the capital to rescue his birth mother and reunite his family.

“It all sounds reasonable,” he said. “But is it wise to invite the Pei family to attend? All this time, they’ve been lurking in the shadows. To bring them out into the open... what if something happens?”

An Lan shook her head with a bitter smile. “That was my uncle’s idea. After discussing with Grandpa, he decided to confront the Pei family directly. We’ll use this opportunity to introduce the medicinal cuisine master we found, as a warning to the Pei family. Maybe, realizing they can’t win against us, the Pei family will withdraw on their own.”

Ye Wushang wanted to say more, but just then, Ye Wuyou came skipping out, clutching paper and pen.

“It’s already decided and can’t be changed,” An Lan said. “Alright, Wushang, let’s not dwell on it. The most important thing now is to get our noodle shop in order. In two days, make sure you arrive early at the hotel—you’ll still be in charge of security.”

With that, she turned and walked over to her sister.

Ye Wushang didn’t give it much more thought. If soldiers come, we’ll meet them with generals; if water comes, we’ll use earth to block it. Whatever the Pei family planned, he had no fear.

Afterward, they signed the agreement and divided up their duties. Ye Wushang was in charge of moving the tables and arranging their positions, while the two women cleaned every corner, determined to leave no speck of dust behind.

In truth, they could have hired a cleaning company for such tasks. But for the siblings, every brick and tile here was imbued with sentiment. Doing it themselves brought peace of mind, a sense of grounding, and was a way to honor their foster mother’s memory.

An hour passed. By seven in the evening, the cleaning was nearly done. They placed recruitment notices and the reopening announcement at the entrance. An Lan, putting her arm around Ye Wuyou, smiled and said, “Well, the job’s done.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll have someone set up the supply channels for you. Once everything’s ready, we’ll open the day after tomorrow—just in time for the An family’s proxy banquet. My suggestion: after the banquet, I’ll bring the guests here for noodles. That’ll be our shop’s first earnings. What do you think?”

Ye Wuyou said nervously, “I’ve always loved eating Mom’s noodles, but I’ve never actually made them myself. If we bring guests so soon, I’m worried…”

“Don’t worry, Wuyou, I’m here,” Ye Wushang said with a reassuring smile, stepping forward. “You used to help Mom knead the dough, and I’d handle the seasonings. I’ve learned a thing or two. When the time comes, I’ll help you. With our combined efforts, we’ll make this noodle shop a roaring success—”

Bang!

Before he could finish, there was a sharp sound. The reopening sign at the entrance had been kicked over.

“So, I hear this shop’s reopening?” a voice sneered. “Just my kind of place. Every new shop pays my tax—the more, the merrier.”

Ye Wushang frowned and looked up to see a burly, pockmarked man, a cigar clamped between his teeth, swaggering toward them. Behind him came more than a dozen men, each wielding a steel pipe, their faces fierce and their intentions clear.

“Brother…” his sister whimpered, frightened. Ye Wushang quickly comforted her. “It’s alright, Wuyou, let me handle this. Lanlan, take care of Wuyou.”

“Alright,” An Lan replied, holding Ye Wuyou protectively. She whispered, “But Wushang, these men look dangerous. Should I call for help?”

“Let’s see what they want first,” Ye Wushang replied, taking a deep breath as he faced the pockmarked man. “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” the man sneered, hands in his pockets. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that every shop on Binjiang Street pays my tax. Doing business? There’s a business tax. Closed? There’s a closure tax. You’re opening, so you pay an opening tax.”

He snapped his fingers, and a man with a moustache stepped forward respectfully. “Boss Fa.”

“Work out how much tax they owe, based on the size and type of this shop.”

“Yes, sir.” The moustached man whipped out a calculator and started punching in numbers.

“All done, Boss Fa. That’ll be two hundred thousand for six months’ protection.”

“Good.” The pockmarked man nodded, turning to Ye Wushang. “You heard him. Opening your shop means paying two hundred thousand in tax. And since you beat up my men, there’s medical bills and emotional damages. Oh, and threatening me too, right? I’ll give you a discount—make it five hundred thousand.”

As soon as he finished, with a glance from him, the dozen or so thugs surged forward and surrounded the two women.

“Brother!” Ye Wuyou cried out.

An Lan clutched her, instinctively reaching for her phone to call for help. But with a clang, a steel pipe knocked the phone to the floor.

“Trying to call for help? Stay put if you know what’s good for you! This is Boss Fa’s turf. Don’t even think about calling anyone—no one will dare interfere here!”

The thugs brandished their steel pipes menacingly, ready to strike at any moment.

“Ye Wushang, did you hear me? Don’t play dumb now—it won’t work,” the pockmarked man warned.

Though Ye Wushang’s expression remained calm, he was secretly astonished. Coming here to collect “taxes” out of the blue was strange enough, but claiming he’d beaten their people and made threats—now, even his name was known.

“Are you Zhang Hei Fa?” Ye Wushang asked instinctively. “The boss of the North Hall of the Black Dragon Society?”

“So your memory’s not bad—you remember me,” Zhang Hei Fa replied, sitting down and crossing his legs nonchalantly. “Chuan Zhi told me to teach you a lesson. But now he can’t be reached. He’s my friend, and I have to give him an answer. You told my men to tell me to wait for you, but I’m not one for waiting. Since you’re so tough, I want to see just how bold you are, daring to threaten me.”

Ye Wushang’s breathing faltered. He’d been too busy lately to seek this man out—but it seemed the man had come to him instead. Judging by his words, he still didn’t know that Sun Chuanzhi had become a vegetable. Clearly, Rabbit Lord was true to his word. He’d promised to deliver the remaining five million that afternoon, but it was already seven—did he not want the medicine anymore?

“I’m just an ordinary man, wanting to run a noodle shop with my sister. Whatever business we have can wait. I’ll give you a chance: pick up the sign, take your men, and leave. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise what?” Zhang Hei Fa changed to a more comfortable position, his tone indifferent. “You’ll hit me? Bite me? This whole street is my turf. I’ve been collecting taxes here for a long time. If you want to open a shop, you follow my rules! I’ll give you two choices—pay up and stay in business, or close up and get out!”