The owner of Whitewood Grand Restaurant was stunned—he’d never seen a brute with zero chill like Big Tank in his life.
"Uh, I actually have some connections with Magistrate Ma."
The owner spoke up nervously. In a place like Whitewood, if you can roll out six Mercedes and smash up a car like it’s nothing, you’re either totally nuts or a real big shot from the city.
You know Magistrate Ma? I know Secretary Liu. Means nothing to me! If you’re too chicken to stop us, then shut your mouth!
After another glare from Big Tank, the owner of Whitewood Grand Restaurant was completely out of options. He could only stand aside, sighing and watching the scene with a pained expression.
Over there, at Big Tank's order, the excavator rolled toward the BMW Z4. It swung its massive bucket and slammed the convertible's roof several times, caving the whole top in.
Then, the excavator kept moving. In full view of the crowd, it drove right over the BMW Z4's roof, grinding back and forth until, in no time, the whole top was completely flattened.
Raymond Rong staggered, sitting on the ground, his face pale as he watched the scene before him. He didn't dare utter a single word.
The crowd standing at the restaurant entrance watched the whole thing unfold. Looking at Raymond Rong sitting there in a daze, some of them suddenly felt a bit sorry for him.
After wrapping things up, Big Tank looked pretty pleased with himself. He scanned the crowd, spotted Evan Lin, and his face lit up—he was just about to swagger over and show off a bit, but then thought, nah, Evan probably doesn't want me making a scene for him right now.
After a moment's hesitation, Big Tank shot Evan a respectful look, then stepped back and cleared his throat. "Alright, job's done—let's go eat, boys!"
Big Tank shot Evan a respectful look, then stepped back, grinning at the wrecked BMW Z4. "Man, who dumped this trash heap here? Seriously, what kind of clown parks like this—no class at all!"
If I ever catch the idiot who did it, I’d smack him down right here—what a punk, zero manners!
After that, Big Tank nudged Raymond Rong with his toe, watching him look absolutely crushed over the BMW—like his soul just got stomped on.
Raymond Rong turned around in confusion, lifting his head to look at Big Tank.
"Hey, kid, parking a junk car like this on the street—being that tasteless, you didn't do it, did you?" Big Tank sneered.
Raymond saw his sneer and felt a chill run down his spine. He quickly shook his head, looking more miserable than ever. "Not me!"
"Oh? So this car isn't yours either?" Big Tank narrowed his eyes.
"N-no... it's not mine," Raymond stammered, face twisted in misery.
"Alright. Hey, you—take the car to the scrapyard!" Big Tank waved his hand, and as soon as he said it, Raymond finally broke down and started crying.
Raymond Rong—over six feet tall and usually the school's flashy, sunshine idol—now looked like a total wreck. Getting stomped by a bunch of roughnecks in a place like this? His pride was ground into dust.
Out on the plaza in front of the restaurant, all you could hear was Raymond's pathetic sobbing every now and then.
Across the street from the restaurant.
An Audi A6 drove by, its license plate showing it was from Minghai. Behind the wheel was a blond, slightly androgynous eighteen-year-old boy.
In the passenger seat sat an old man with a white beard, eyes closed, his spotless clothes making him look almost otherworldly.
The boy glanced at the two girls sitting in the back seat.
One had a graceful figure, dressed in a white cotton tee and ripped jeans, looking a bit lazy and laid-back.
The other was pretty and charming, a hint of boredom in her brows. She propped her chin, gazing out the window, lost in thought.
“Lynn, do you think Evan Lin will be home now? Your parents are something else—didn’t even come themselves. By the way, what’s his house like?” Yolanda Fang stretched lazily and asked Lynn Chen, who was still staring out the window, her curiosity piqued.
"He should be home. My mom called Auntie Zheng a few days ago, and she said he was at home then." Lynn Chen hesitated, then continued, "His place is pretty small, I think it’s a single-story house. It’s been ages since I visited, so I’m not sure if he still lives there."
Lynn Chen had visited Evan Lin’s home as a child, back when Lucy Lu was still teaching in Whitewood County. But Lynn was so young then she hadn’t started school yet, so her memories were fuzzy. She just remembered rows of single-story houses and a close-knit neighborhood, nothing like the distant relationships in big cities.
“Oh.” Yolanda Fang nodded, then hesitated. “So, are we just going straight to his place to look for him?”
After speaking, she looked at the boy driving.
The boy heard Yolanda’s question and smiled. “Let’s go to Whitewood Century Hotel first. I’ll get my master settled, then take you both to Evan Lin’s place.”
Whitewood Century Hotel is the county’s only upscale hotel, built in recent years and considered the best in Whitewood.
“Also, Lynn, we’re going to Zhaoyu Town’s Fenghua Mountain this time. I heard there’s an Old Immortal Sage up there—supposedly great at fortune-telling. We can ask him about our love lives.” The boy smiled.
As soon as he finished, both Yolanda Fang and Lynn Chen instinctively frowned.
But clearly, the boy wasn’t planning to let them interrupt. He glanced at the old man beside him with a look of deep respect.
As the car rolled smoothly along, Lynn Chen, who’d been staring out the window, suddenly froze.
At that moment, Yolanda Fang leaned over to look outside. She happened to catch sight of the excavator repeatedly crushing a battered BMW Z4, with three Mercedes parked nearby, their hoods dented, and another three Mercedes lined up not far away, radiating pure intimidation.
Yolanda Fang’s eyes lit up. “Evan Lin’s hometown is wild—these locals are total beasts! Wrecking a BMW just for kicks, damn.”
“Just a bunch of troublemakers from a poor mountain area. Don’t worry, with my master and me here, you’ll be safe.”
“After all, I promised Uncle Chen.”
The boy’s lips curled into a self-assured smile, clearly pleased with himself.