Chapter 89: An Unexpected Declaration of War

“Ha ha, Uncle Tang, hello! It’s been over ten years since we last met—do you still remember me?” Mo Shu said joyfully, his face alight with excitement.

Just now, when Tang Xiuxian had called him “Little Mo Shu,” he’d felt as if he’d been whisked back to his childhood in an instant.

“How could I not remember you? Even if I’d forgotten you, I’d still remember that Transformer I bought you!” Tang Xiuxian, ever the joker, had always loved a good jest—and it seemed that age had done little to dull his humor.

“Old Tang! You’re such a miser—here you are, still clinging to that hundred and thirty yuan even in your old age!” Mo Shanhe bantered, his eyebrows raised in mock reproach.

Back in the mid-nineties, most people in China with a proper job earned just two or three hundred yuan a month. A Transformer costing one hundred and thirty yuan was equivalent to half a month’s salary—a truly extravagant gift, even by today’s standards. If Tang Xiuxian hadn’t gone into the motorcycle business early on, he’d never have splurged on such an expensive present for Mo Shu. But this, too, spoke volumes about the deep friendship between Tang Xiuxian and Mo Shanhe in those days.

“Heh heh heh, why do you always call me stingy? As people say nowadays, I was just good at managing my finances,” Tang Xiuxian replied, his knack for self-praise as sharp as ever—a skill well-known among his old friends.

“Hahaha, right! No matter what you say, you’re always in the right.” Mo Shanhe clapped Tang Xiuxian on the back, making him feign a stumble as though seeking sympathy, which sent Mo Shu and Zhang Aimin into peals of laughter. The four of them couldn’t stop their merriment.

“I almost forgot—I have two bags of your favorite millet in the car, Mo Shu. Go fetch them for your Uncle Tang.” Mo Shanhe had been meaning to visit his old friend for a long time and had kept the gifts in the trunk, worried he’d forget them on the day.

“Haha, I knew Old Ghost would never come empty-handed. Come, let’s talk inside. And this friend of yours is a colleague too, isn’t he? Come, all of you.” Tang Xiuxian noticed Zhang Aimin, who was still recovering from illness and moved with some difficulty, and stepped forward without hesitation to help him.

Mo Shanhe followed behind, chuckling. He hadn’t expected that these two really did share a sense of sympathetic misfortune.

Mo Shu took the car keys from his father and dashed off eagerly, wanting nothing more than to catch up with Uncle Tang after so many years apart. Besides, if his father had gone to such lengths to invite someone of great renown, it must be Uncle Tang. If the founder of the Nanshan Auto Association stepped in, surely Zhu Tao, the current chairman, would think twice before causing trouble.

Mo Shu, grinning at the thought of Zhu Tao cowering before Tang Xiuxian, hurried toward the villa with two beautifully packaged bags of millet.

But as he jogged along, lost in thought, there was a sudden “thump!” Mo Shu, his head down, collided full-force with someone else.

The other party let out a sharp cry and landed squarely on the ground, grimacing in pain and unable to get up.

Mo Shu stopped in surprise and saw that it was a girl—no wonder she’d been so easily knocked over. He apologized repeatedly, but with both hands full, he had no way to help her up just yet, so he bent down to check on her.

“Are you blind? Watch where you’re going, damn it!” the girl snapped, her words sharp as knives.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, are you all right?” Despite her rudeness, Mo Shu, true to his nature, had no intention of quarreling with a stranger.

“Didn’t your parents teach you to help someone up after knocking them down? You just stand there like an idiot?” The girl, seeing him only stoop to look at her and ignoring the fact that his hands were full, became even more aggressive.

“All right, all right, let me help you up.” Her string of curses made Mo Shu frown—her lack of manners was as plain as day. Still, he set the millet bags carefully aside and reached out to help her.

But before his hands could reach her, a voice behind him barked with fresh abuse.

“Hey! Did you just knock over my girlfriend? You trying to take advantage of her or what?” This time, it was a young man dressed like a small-time thug.

Mo Shu was left awkwardly half-bent, unsure what to do—helping was wrong, not helping was wrong. What did these two want from him?

“Get lost!” the young man spat on the ground, glaring fiercely.

…

Each insult grew worse than the last. Mo Shu realized his politeness and patience were utterly wasted. His face hardened as he straightened up.

Inwardly, he wrestled with himself, but in the end, he held back from retaliating. He certainly knew how to curse, but the more he’d experienced in life, the less he wished to bring trouble on himself.

Perhaps the young man, seeing Mo Shu’s honest face, gray hair, and mild demeanor, assumed he was an easy target—an “old before his time” pushover.

So, emboldened, the young man swaggered closer, then kicked Mo Shu’s two bags of millet viciously aside.

A surge of anger flared in Mo Shu. That millet was a special gift from his father to Uncle Tang, now rare and hard to come by.

Enough—he’d had it! Hot blood rushed to Mo Shu’s head.

“Young man, that was going too far,” Mo Shu said coldly, making no effort to hide his threat. In truth, he was inviting the other to make a move.

“So what? What are you gonna do about it?” The young man, not realizing whom he’d offended, refused to take the bait.

“Pick them up.”

“No!”

“Heh, you’re here to get your car modified, aren’t you?” Mo Shu switched tactics.

“No kidding! Why else would I come to a godforsaken place like this!” the young man replied, shaking his head with a dumb bravado.

“Dare to race me?” Mo Shu challenged.

“Afraid of you?!” the young man blustered, finally taking the bait.

“Zero to a hundred—can you do it?” Mo Shu pressed.

“Of course! Anyone can floor the accelerator!”

“All right. Whoever loses smashes his own car!” Mo Shu’s wager was bold.

“Uh…” The young man hesitated. He hadn’t expected things to escalate this far, and he had no idea what kind of car Mo Shu drove.

Just as he wavered, his girlfriend, still rubbing her arm, urged him on. “What are you afraid of, darling? Go for it! I’m behind you!”

Other bystanders, bored after waiting so long for their own cars to be upgraded, eagerly egged them on. “Go for it! That white-haired guy’s car can’t be any good!”

In truth, none of them knew what kind of car Mo Shu had brought, but they were so desperate for entertainment that they were determined not to let this excitement die down.

“Let’s race! Let’s race!”

“Acceleration contest! Acceleration contest!”

The clamor grew ever louder, and the young man, realizing he’d been cornered, could only grit his teeth and agree.

He could only hope for the best—may that white-haired guy’s car be a piece of junk! The young man began to pray in silence.