Henry Yan's face was pale as he glanced at Victor Wei, who stood there. "Ten years ago, you, Young Master of the Wei family in Beijing, could've walked all over small fry like me without a care."
But now, brother, after the Yan family has been grinding for so long, holding a hundred-billion-yuan media empire, do you really think an old, declining Wei family could scare me into submission?
He grinned, but his eyes turned cold.
Get lost!
One word, straight to the point.
Henry Yan immediately reached out, trying to shove Victor Wei, who was blocking Lynn Chen and her friends.
Maybe it was because years of booze and women had drained his strength.
Instead of pushing Victor aside, Henry Yan ended up getting jolted back by the force, stumbling and nearly falling over.
Victor Wei stood his ground, fists clenched, with no intention of moving.
Gordon Guo felt a twinge of panic the moment he heard 'hundred billion.'
Ten years ago, the Wei family was definitely old money—big name everywhere. But now, their reputation can't intimidate all these newly risen clans.
The Yan family is just one of them.
Especially in the tangled world of media and entertainment, Henry Yan is used to acting without fear.
Jenny Sun’s expression changed as she gripped Lynn Chen’s hand tightly. Zoe Zhao and Nana looked uneasy. Lynn Chen kept glancing at the main door, anxious inside but trying to appear calm, constantly thinking about how to escape.
Still not letting me through?
Henry Yan steadied himself, a mix of shame and anger flashing in his eyes as he glared at Victor Wei, his tone icy.
William Wei is my brother. Give me some respect.
Victor Wei was holding back his temper. He wasn't much of a social guy, and the Wei family's decline these past few years hadn't really affected him—he never felt it firsthand.
The only real asset the Wei family has left is William Wei, who’s been diligent all these years and still has a strong reputation in Beijing circles.
Back then, whenever Victor ran into trouble, just dropping William Wei’s name settled most minor issues—no one in the old-money crowd wanted to make enemies over small stuff.
But things are different now.
In the old days, the veteran street bosses of Beijing who still cared about honor and rules—most of them are either retired, gone, or dead.
Even the old families rarely bother with “street rules” anymore.
Especially the newer clans, like those from Yan Sihao’s generation—these upstarts only care about money and power, doing whatever they please without a second thought.
Yan Sihao saw Victor Wei refusing to back down and took a deep breath.
Humiliated in front of so many people, Yan Sihao glanced around, spotted an unopened beer bottle on the nearby table, and immediately grabbed it.
“See this?”
Yan Sihao dangled the beer bottle in one hand, glaring sideways at Victor Wei. “You care about saving face, huh? Yeah?”
“How about this—ten bottles. Deal?”
As soon as he said that, Tony Tao, Eric Yu, and the others all looked at Victor Wei.
Tony Tao wore a grin; he wouldn’t dare get too involved, but watching the drama unfold was plenty entertaining.
“Whoa, ten bottles—don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
Gordon Guo couldn’t help but try to smooth things over: “How about you cut us some slack, bro? I’ll drink with Victor, and we’ll apologize together?”
He forced a smile, his tone softening as he faced Yan Sihao.
While Gordon spoke, he reached out, trying to take the beer from Yan Sihao’s hand.
His hand was barely outstretched, not yet touching the bottle—
Yan Sihao, already poised for trouble, suddenly kicked Gordon hard in the stomach. As Gordon doubled over in pain, Yan smashed the beer bottle over his head.
Crack!
Beer sprayed everywhere.
“F*** you! Who do you think you are? You think you’re worthy of drinking with me?”