Chapter Twelve: Beating Up the Thugs

This bald man was rather notorious in the neighborhood, always bullying others. People generally avoided provoking them unless absolutely necessary.

"Who cares what kind of thug he is, as long as he pays us," said Chen Huajiang, unfazed by their reputation. He didn’t care who showed up—be it the King of Heaven himself—if someone ate his food, they owed him money.

"Do you think they'll pay up? Should we keep grilling the skewers?" Da Guang was still a bit worried.

"Grill them. I’ll handle it. You figure out how much they owe, and keep an eye on them so they don’t slip away," Chen Huajiang replied, taking over the grill himself.

For him, grilling lamb skewers was second nature now; soon, they were ready. He placed them on a plate and approached the group with a smile.

"Gentlemen, enjoy. If you need anything, just call us over," he said cheerfully.

"Got it," came a cold reply from the group.

Chen Huajiang returned to his work. This time of night, the place was busy, especially since it was the weekend. Word had gotten out about his lamb skewers, and many people made a point of coming to try them.

The bald man and his henchmen drank late into the night, until after eleven. When they finished, they stood up to leave, clearly intending not to pay.

Da Guang’s earlier suspicion proved right—these petty thugs always looked for free food and drinks. Many local business owners were forced to suffer in silence; anyone who crossed the bald man could forget about doing business in the area again.

"Hold on, gentlemen, you haven’t paid yet. That’ll be thirteen yuan," Chen Huajiang said, stepping forward and blocking their path.

The bald man was momentarily stunned. He’d never paid for food in this neighborhood.

"Who the hell do you think we are? Haven’t you heard of Bald Brother? Not paying you is already doing you a favor, and you dare come asking for money? Get lost!" one of the henchmen sneered, pointing at Chen Huajiang.

"Sorry, I really don’t know you. I run a small business, so you need to pay. If you don't, you’re not leaving tonight," Chen Huajiang’s expression hardened. He wasn’t afraid of these petty thugs.

Chen Huajiang was skilled; before coming here, he had learned kickboxing, sanda, taekwondo, and more.

The bald man gave Chen Huajiang a contemptuous smile.

"Since the man insists on being paid, brothers, let’s give it to him—give him a beating!" the bald man said.

His henchmen surged forward to attack Chen Huajiang. Sensing the trouble, Da Guang grabbed a stool and rushed over; he might be honest, but he wasn’t a pushover.

Chen Huajiang smiled faintly and moved swiftly. Anyone who confronted him was knocked down with a single punch. These thugs were no match for him. He targeted the key spots, and they couldn’t withstand it. Soon, the group was sprawled on the ground.

The bald man was dumbfounded. He’d never encountered anyone so formidable. He wanted to fight, but he knew he was no match for Chen Huajiang.

Chen Huajiang strode over and slapped the bald man several times.

"Come on, I dare you to freeload again. Do you think we’re easy to bully? Are you coming back?" he demanded as he hit him.

The bald man didn’t dare fight back, retreating and pleading, "Brother, we won’t dare anymore. We know we were wrong. Please let us go."

Seeing him beg for mercy, Chen Huajiang finally stopped.

"Pay up. What are you waiting for?"

The bald man had hoped that after a beating, he wouldn’t have to pay. But to his surprise, he’d been beaten and still had to hand over the money.

"But I don’t have that much on me. Can I come back tomorrow and pay you?" he pleaded sincerely. He never carried money, living off handouts.

"Tomorrow? What time? Give me a specific hour," Chen Huajiang pressed him.

"Tomorrow night, around nine. I’ll bring the money, I promise. I’ll definitely pay," the bald man begged again.

"Fine. I’ll wait until ten. If you don’t come, don’t blame me for what happens next. We all live nearby; everyone knows where you are," Chen Huajiang said coldly.

The bald man nodded like a bobblehead and left with his henchmen.

After running some distance, one of them asked, "Bald Brother, are you really going to pay him tomorrow?"

"Pay him, my foot. If I hadn’t said that, could we have left? Tomorrow night, call all the brothers. I want to see what he can do. Can he fight three or five, but can he take on dozens? Bald Brother has never been humiliated like this in the neighborhood. I have to smash his stall; otherwise, I can’t swallow this insult," the bald man fumed.

He had never been beaten like this all these years. For a snack shop owner to have such nerve was unheard of.

Of course, Chen Huajiang wasn’t naïve. He knew better than to trust the words of a thug. Soon, he came up with a solution: he would ask Liang Long to bring his rowdy friends over. Liang Long might not have many connections otherwise, but when it came to brawlers, he knew plenty.

At that moment, Liang Long was playing cards in a room with others. One of them was Du Ming, whose father owned a printing factory. With their privileged backgrounds, their nights revolved around gambling, with nothing else to do.

Du Ming’s luck was terrible tonight; in no time, he’d lost a couple hundred.

"No worries. Luck comes and goes. I’ll lend you some. Pay me back when you win," Liang Long said generously, handing him two hundred.

Gamblers always think they can win back what they lost, or keep winning if they're ahead.

"Alright, I refuse to believe I’ll keep losing all night," Du Ming said as he took the money and resumed playing.

But soon, he lost it all. Liang Long lent him another two hundred.

By the end of the night, Du Ming had lost another two hundred.

"Du Ming, we’re brothers, so I won’t press you. But tomorrow, you need to pay me back four hundred. Otherwise, when my old man asks, I won’t be able to explain," Liang Long said deliberately. He knew Du Ming couldn’t come up with four hundred in a day.

He couldn’t ask his father, and there was no other way.

"Liang Long, can’t you give me a few more days? Where am I supposed to get four hundred by tomorrow?" Du Ming replied helplessly.

"It’s not that I won’t wait, but my old man's money is with me, and he wants it back tomorrow. If I can’t give it to him, I’ll be in real trouble," Liang Long insisted.