They boarded the boat.
Ken Feng and Hank Chu looked a little uneasy.
Everything that just happened was still echoing in their minds. Now, looking at Allen Ju and the others, they both realized these people definitely had impressive backgrounds.
"Do you know how to fish?"
Allen glanced at Evan Lin beside him and asked.
"A little bit," Evan replied.
Evan didn’t refuse. He took a fishing rod, found a spot, and sat down to fish.
Counting the previous meetings at the basketball court and the internet café, this was actually their third encounter.
Warren Wu was obviously the boisterous type. Selina Shi would occasionally roll her eyes at Evan, while Allen Ju kept a calm expression, making small talk with Evan now and then.
Jason Jiang and the others hung out nearby. Selina called Hank over to eat, while Ken, dressed in his little suit, kept glancing around, lost in thought.
After they caught a few fish, everyone cleaned them up and grilled them right on the boat’s barbecue rack.
They hung out on the boat for a few hours, and only then did Evan, Hank, and the others decide to head back.
Before leaving, Selina asked Evan for his number, saying this meal didn’t count. She didn’t give him a chance to reply, just turned and left with Warren, Allen, and the others.
On the way back.
"Evan, those people are definitely something else—like, seriously! I bet they’re kids of big-time officials from the upper ranks. Otherwise, why would Max Ma back down so fast?" Ken said excitedly, pedaling his fixie, his face full of animation.
The trees cast swaying shadows, and a cool breeze brushed their faces—it was actually pretty nice weather.
"Honestly, they’re way more open-minded than Max Ma and his crew. Evan crushed them on the basketball court and in the internet café, but they didn’t get mad at all. They’re actually easy to talk to," Hank chimed in.
"Max Ma and the others are way worse. Brandon Yang always acts like a big shot because his dad’s rich and powerful, and Max is the same—always pretending to be some big deal. But it’s all just riding on their dads’ coattails," Hank rambled.
The two of them were having a blast, faces full of excitement. Evan, on the other hand, looked calm and didn’t seem to care much.
"By the way, Evan, that girl definitely seems interested in you. She’s way better than Ivy Deng—prettier, nicer, and not the snobbish type at all," Ken joked.
Ken tossed his head dramatically, sending the little tuft of bangs on his forehead flying.
...
On the road in front of the shantytown entrance.
Three excavators rumbled over the bumpy ground, slowly coming forward and completely blocking the main gate to the shantytown.
The excavator doors opened, and out stepped a skinny man in a suit, a cigarette dangling from his mouth and a document in his hand with 'Demolition Plan' printed in bold characters.
Not far behind, seven vans rolled up in a row.
As soon as the vans stopped, their doors flew open, and forty or fifty people swarmed out.
Each of them looked fierce, lining up behind the excavators and completely sealing off the path into the shantytown.
The skinny man flicked his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. He glanced over and spotted an old lady just coming out of one of the shantytown houses.
The old lady saw the intimidating scene at the gate, shuddered in fear, then turned and ran back inside, yelling something as she went.
The skinny man in the suit didn’t care. He turned around, faced his crew, cleared his throat, and called out, "The company’s already bought this land. Everyone inside is a holdout. In a bit, try to talk them out, not fight—clear the place with words if you can!"
"If you have to get physical, be gentle with the old, weak, and sick. For the strong guys—just don’t kill them!"
As soon as he finished, the thugs behind him all shouted in agreement.
Soon, the old lady who’d run off came rushing back, this time with more than a dozen people—men and women, young and old.
From the group, a middle-aged man in a white undershirt stepped forward, his face serious as he looked at the scene.
This was Leonard Chu, Hank’s dad. He usually worked in a factory and was fairly sturdy, though years of hard labor had streaked his hair with gray. He took a deep breath, stared at the skinny man, and stepped up: "What are you guys trying to do?"
"What do you think? Didn’t we already say—the land’s been bought by Yang Real Estate. Of course we’re here to tear it down."
The skinny man tapped the excavator behind him. "Why else do you think we brought these big guys here? Digging graves for you?"
He looked at them with obvious contempt.
"You might’ve bought it, but we haven’t agreed to your terms. Five hundred yuan per square meter—what’s that supposed to do? Are you trying to leave us homeless?" Leonard’s face darkened at the man’s words.
Most of the houses in the shantytown were built by the residents themselves. Back then, land regulations were lax—you just found a patch of empty ground, put up a house, and nobody bothered you. No paperwork needed.
But since there were no property or land certificates, the land didn’t officially belong to the residents—it belonged to the government. At that time, the government didn’t have much money, so they supported these houses as a kind of livelihood project. They even helped build some, and promised that even without certificates, these were guaranteed housing and residents had legal rights.
Technically, if the developer wanted to demolish these houses, they were supposed to pay a resettlement fee. But Yang Real Estate’s arrangement fee was basically zero.
That amount couldn’t buy a single apartment in Whitewood County. In other words, once the place was torn down, a hundred families would be left homeless.
"Yeah! You can’t be this heartless!"
"The land might not be ours, but if you demolish it, you’re supposed to give us resettlement housing—even if it’s below market price. What you’re doing is illegal!"
"Don’t tear it down! If you do, we’ll have nowhere to go!"
Hearing the man in the suit, the residents got anxious. They’d lived here for decades, helping build Whitewood County. And when they tried to get official documents, they were always put off for one reason or another—now they were stuck in this position.
"Don’t twist it. Honestly, I wouldn’t even give you five hundred per square meter. Listen up, the land belongs to our company now. You staying here is unreasonable. Where are you supposed to live? Ha! There are plenty of bridges in town—sleep under whichever one you like, nobody cares!"