Chapter Forty-One: The Feast at Hongmen

"Did he really say that?"

"Word for word!"

Upon hearing Sun Yingjie’s report, Gu Zhuxuan set down his opium pipe, took a swig of tea, and a look of genuine interest flickered across his face.

Sun Yingjie asked, "Mr. Gu, shall we...?" The implication was clear: he was suggesting strong-arm tactics.

Gu Zhuxuan waved a hand dismissively. "Sigh, why resort to violence when we can talk? Still, I must say, I am quite curious about this young man... Tell you what, I’m hosting a dance in three days. Go and invite him. Let him come and see for himself; otherwise, the poor boy won't know how things are actually done in Shanghai."

What exactly was the secret to making a fortune in Shanghai? To Gu Zhuxuan, it was purely a matter of "influence." A young man who had just struck it rich in the span of three months, carrying a bit of sharp-edged impulsivity—that was understandable. It would be perfect; he would let the boy witness the power of the "Emperor of Zhabei."

Sun Yingjie hesitated. "Boss, wouldn't that be elevating him too much? Look at the kind of people who attend your parties; is he really fit to be in such company?"

Gu Zhuxuan chuckled. "You can’t put it that way. If he is truly a man of substance, he should have the mettle to handle a simple dinner party. If he’s just a greenhorn who got lucky, he’ll show his true colors soon enough."

Gu Zhuxuan had only heard snippets about Chen Guangliang from Sun Yingjie. He was genuinely curious to see what the man was actually like.

"Very well, I shall go send him an invitation immediately!"

Gu Zhuxuan waved him off. At this moment, Gu Zhuxuan was at the height of his rising power, yet he was also facing a "great crisis." The Wing On Company on the main road (now South Nanjing Road)—with the Tianchan Stage situated right behind it—was looking to expand southward. In collusion with the Municipal Council, they had issued a demolition order for the theater. Despite Gu’s frantic efforts to negotiate, nothing had worked. Finally, he had sought the help of Du Yuesheng, hiring two foreign lawyers with a massive sum of money, preparing to take the case all the way to the British Commonwealth Supreme Court.

The web of power in Shanghai was tangled and complex. Even a "gangster tycoon" as formidable as Gu Zhuxuan found himself helpless against the collusion between a corporate giant like Wing On and the Municipal Council. In the concessions, the foreigners were the true emperors; even outside the concessions, they remained a class above. Such was the plight of a weak nation.

This lawsuit was critical for Gu. If he "lost," he would lose not just money, but far more importantly, his influence. People would say that Gu Zhuxuan was nothing special, unable to do a thing even when being forcibly evicted. But if he won, his influence would skyrocket, for he would have defeated the "Overlords of the Concession."

...

Looking at the invitation sent by Gu Zhuxuan, Chen Guangliang remained calm. After all, whether it was a trap or not, he had to face it. This was the law of survival in Shanghai. Gangsters, warlords, and foreigners—these three forces were intertwined. To make money, one had to deal with them. Only the simple-minded viewed this world as nothing but "fighting and killing." Those who truly understood survival knew how to find balance and leverage among these powers.

Just as Gu Zhuxuan had set his sights on him, a small shrimp, Chen Guangliang had rejected his "extortion." Chen believed that, firstly, Gu would be wary of the foreigners and officials in the Transportation Bureau, and secondly, he wouldn't dare to take drastic measures against someone he didn't fully know yet. The first point was simple: in the concessions, foreigners held absolute power. The second was also clear: if Gu acted rashly without following the proper social graces, he might offend someone desperate enough to pull a trigger from the shadows—and even the most powerful gangster could meet a bitter end in Shanghai that way.

Therefore, since Chen Guangliang insisted on "negotiating," Gu Zhuxuan was bound to "meet." Chen wasn't refusing to pay the protection fee; he was simply setting his bottom line: five percent, and only after six months. He knew that if he paid nothing at all, Gu would likely resort to sinister sabotage that would be hard to defend against.

"Boss, I fear this is a trap," Zhou Xinggao said, filled with worry.

Chen Guangliang laughed. "I don't know if it's a trap, but at the very least, they want to talk, not fight. That means there is room for maneuver. You don't need to worry."

"Then I'll accompany you that day," Zhou offered.

"No," Chen said. "The transport agency needs you there to hold down the fort."

He had achieved a modest level of success; he wasn't so easily pushed around anymore. At the very least, he had earned the right to have a seat at the table. Still, Chen decided he should find an opportunity for Zhou Xinggao to learn marksmanship and martial arts. With that, and his own enhanced physical capabilities, he could walk through Shanghai without fear.

Indeed, four months after his arrival, Chen was certain that his body had undergone a secondary development. Not only had he grown to 172 centimeters, but his strength, speed, and reflexes far exceeded those of an average man. Learning a few more skills would only add to his "trump cards" in this society.

...

Three days later.

Chen Guangliang went to the tailor shop to pick up his suit. He changed into the full outfit on the spot and, with the help of the old master, learned how to style his hair with brilliantine. After the grooming, he looked like a completely different person. At 172 centimeters, he was considered tall for the era, and in his suit, his bearing was no less impressive than that of any foreigner. He had always had handsome, well-defined features, and his constant air of calm and confidence only added to his charm.

Even the shop owner and the tailors praised him. "Mr. Chen," the owner said admiringly, "if someone were to claim you came from a wealthy, noble family, I doubt anyone would argue!"

Looking at his dashing reflection in the mirror, Chen was deeply captivated. However, he replied earnestly, "I feel it is precisely my humble origins that have given me a resilient character, free from the frivolity of a pampered young master. Therefore, I am quite satisfied with my background."

The owner knew that Chen had started as a rickshaw puller and now managed a fleet of over a hundred rickshaws. That was already an impressive feat for someone so young.

"That is true. But now, Mr. Chen, you need this attire to cultivate higher-level connections and take your business to the next level."

"Indeed... I am very pleased with this, boss. I will return to order another set later, but next time, I want British fabric."

"Haha, no problem! I look forward to your good news, Mr. Chen."

The owner understood perfectly—switching to imported fabric meant that Chen’s business was about to reach even greater heights.