Chapter 87: An Encounter with an Enemy

“So late…” Chen Aijia was a bit reluctant. It was the middle of the night, and it was going to rain—what was the point of going to the office now?

Just as she was about to protest, Chen Aijia suddenly realized what this was about—this was a chance to cut off their escape route.

Wang Hu might not show up at the office for the next few days, but his underlings would still be there. They would probably take advantage of this window to shamelessly line their own pockets—whether it was smuggling out valuables for resale, or using the company as a front for shady deals like drug trafficking. If any of them dared to act tonight, they could be caught red-handed. This would be the moment to begin clipping Wang Hu’s wings.

“Don’t alert too many people. Contact only those you can trust. Make sure the other side doesn’t catch wind and escape,” Yang Changfeng said vaguely.

Who knew what connections this driver had? He had no idea who the three people in the car really were, but if he mentioned any familiar names, the guy might remember them.

Chen Aijia nodded silently. It seemed bringing this man back really was the wisest choice.

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and explained, “That was just an old classmate of mine earlier. He used to be close to us. Maybe he’s planning to settle in Jiangzhou now. It’s nothing really, just dinner. I wanted to persuade him to get back together with my senior, after all, it’s a pity how things turned out between them.”

Yang Changfeng didn’t respond at all—who cared? Whether it was a date or just meeting an old classmate, let her do as she pleased.

He’d just earn some money, move out with Anya, and stop living with her anyway—save himself the trouble.

Chen Aijia was both angry and anxious. He still didn’t believe her? Did he expect her to bring proof?

Anya, meanwhile, was lost in thought, paying the petty drama no mind. She was considering whether she should keep some distance from Chen Aijia in the future, to avoid giving jealous gossips any ammunition.

Initially, Chen Aijia felt uneasy, both annoyed and wronged. She hadn’t done anything on purpose—how could she have predicted so much would happen today? That man’s appearance had once made her happy, but now she had explained everything, made it clear there was nothing between them anymore.

Besides, she had just publicly declared they were engaged in front of everyone.

He was so petty, holding onto the smallest things and never letting go—truly infuriating.

Though resentful, and still suspecting there was more than friendship between Yang Changfeng and Anya, she had no leverage. Even if she did, hadn’t she already said it had nothing to do with Yang Changfeng? Now, even if they were dating, what did it matter to her?

The more she thought, the more aggrieved and despondent she felt, until she wished she could stop thinking about it altogether.

Recalling that man’s coldness and even cruelty, Chen Aijia suddenly felt a chill run down her spine.

Thank God nothing had ever happened between them; otherwise, she might have regretted it for the rest of her life.

Her senior must have seen through the man’s true nature—that’s probably why she insisted on divorce. She came from such a good family, yet had always been kind, even back in school. Rumor had it she was still sponsoring students in poor mountain regions. As for him—arrogant, self-important, impossible to live harmoniously with after marriage—divorce was the best ending for both.

Lost in these muddled thoughts, Chen Aijia actually fell asleep.

Her head tilted against Anya’s shoulder, she slept peacefully.

Anya could only feel sympathy and helplessness. She shot Yang Changfeng a glare. “Can’t you just be a little nicer to her?”

Not a chance. We all get one shot at life—why should I be the one to yield?

She needed to correct her own flaws; this woman had to start reflecting, from her very soul, and make some changes.

Yang Changfeng dozed off as well. When the car finally arrived, it was already past ten. At the foot of a winding mountain road, a sign stood by the roadside. This place had been commandeered by Jiangzhou’s pampered sons and daughters as their private racetrack.

At least, these people, though they’d taken over the mountain road, had also built a highway nearby. Who paid for it, no one knew—but it certainly wasn’t them. The parents of these young lords controlled much of society’s resources, shifting funds as they pleased. Was he supposed to care?

It was time someone straightened them out.

The taxi sped away, leaving no trace. So they really had come for a race—turns out, everyone was loaded.

After getting out, Yang Changfeng glanced at the brightly lit mountainside. Several cars were parked by the roadside below, with some people standing guard at the entrance, blocking the way and checking anyone who approached.

Sun Zhaoxing naturally didn’t need to be checked. The moment he appeared, the group shuddered collectively and rushed over to greet him.

“Everyone’s here?” Sun Zhaoxing rolled his eyes. When he got a positive answer, he cursed, “Damn it, you all just want to see a show, don’t you? Yang, tonight you’d better give them a good slap in the face—crush these bastards under your heel for me!”

Yang Changfeng felt invigorated. Scanning the area, he asked, “Where’s the car I asked for?”

Sun Zhaoxing made a call, muttering curses at the local “natives” of Jiangzhou.

Jiangzhou, being the most economically developed area, was crawling with wealthy upstarts. The scions from the capital looked down on these nouveau riche, and the nouveau riche returned the favor, calling the capital kids “natives” while the latter called them “idlers.” They mutually despised yet could never truly separate from each other—a strange little circle all their own.

A few minutes later, three vehicles shot down from the highway entrance—two Passats flanking a fiery red pickup. As they drew near, Yang Changfeng recognized it: a Raptor.

He could tell from the engine alone—it was a Raptor with a high-powered diesel engine. Setting aside the Raptor’s own value, the modifications must have added several million more.

Truly, these people were rich beyond measure.

Sun Zhaoxing promised cheerfully, “Win, and the car is yours.”

That worked for him—not a problem.

The car wasn’t brand new; Sun Zhaoxing had driven it a few days, but it didn’t suit his image.

“It’s been three years since I last drove a modified Raptor,” Yang Changfeng said, rubbing his hands together. He yanked the young driver from the seat, said a few words, and climbed in to get a feel for the controls.

Could a soldier drive a Raptor?

What nonsense.

Chen Aijia rolled her eyes, but decided not to deflate him—he was busy enough.

Sun Zhaoxing, however, knew Yang Changfeng wasn’t bragging. Cars? The luxury vehicles this guy had driven probably rivaled his own. The real luxury cars belonged to those Middle Eastern tycoons.

Yang Changfeng floored the accelerator, revving the engine to its limits. The Raptor didn’t budge, but its roar was earthshaking.

What a car!

Just then, another engine’s growl echoed from the mountain—a modified Toyota racing car shot down the main road, coming to a halt less than ten meters from them. The tires screeched, filling the air with the stench of burnt rubber; sparks had visibly flown from the freshly paved roadside.

Andrei Ivanov had arrived.

He didn’t recognize Yang Changfeng in the car, but Yang Changfeng saw him. Fate truly had a sense of humor—enemies meeting on a narrow road.