The problem is, I have absolutely no idea what a so-called "broker" does. Am I right to think of them as "accountants"? I'm not particularly fast at counting money, but I can usually count it correctly after a few tries. While I was calling Jin2, I went downstairs and turned on my computer. I wanted to find out exactly what a broker was, but the computer gave me a very professional answer—I just couldn't understand it.
Later, I reflected on it myself. Mu Renzhi in *The White-Haired Girl* is essentially Huang Shiren's agent. An agent is someone who sacrifices everything to make money for another person. He once said, "Poverty breeds cunning, wealth breeds conscience." That left a deep impression on me.
The earliest economist in history seems to be Guan Zhong, who served Duke Huan of Qi. Coincidentally, Guan Zhong said something similar: "When the granaries are full, people know etiquette."
It seems these brokers are nothing more than ruthless, shameless, and inflating prices endlessly for those seeking brokerage services. This profession is easy to understand; it's just the opposite of my current job. I'm a master at bargaining, so I'm probably just as good at inflating prices.
Just then, Jin 2's call connected, and I asked him, "Where the hell is your office? Why are you talking so rudely? I'm fucking done with you."
Jin 2 said cautiously, "I already told you I wasn't very easy to get along with before, you're driving..."
Tell me the bus route!
"...Take bus 205 to the Science Park, get off and go into the tallest building. My office is on the 16th floor, so you'd better arrive half an hour early..."
I hung up the phone before he finished speaking, and casually opened QQ to scan the message. Wolf Head left a message: "I've used your cousin's photo this week. You can buy a copy and take a look. Don't forget our magazine is called 'Dream'."
I shut down my computer, intending to prepare, but found there was nothing to prepare. The only proof that I knew Li Shishi seemed to be Ying Pangzi's MP4 player, which I put in my pocket. Remembering Jin Shaoyan's prediction of rain today, I pulled out a black umbrella and tucked it under my arm before heading out. On the way to the station, I easily bought a copy of "Dream."
I must say that Jin Shaoyan has a strong ability to express himself. He didn't tell me about the numerous buildings because as soon as I got off the car, I saw a towering skyscraper standing out from the crowd. It had a more commanding presence than the other luxury buildings nearby, with a row of huge characters that looked like pillars of heaven: Jinting Film and Television Entertainment Group.
Jinting Film & Television may not be well-known among the general public who simply enjoy watching movies for entertainment, but it's a household name within the industry. Every year, aside from a few blockbuster films directed by renowned directors, almost every film that forms the backbone of the Chinese film and television industry has some connection to this company. In fact, even those blockbusters, whether it's using their cinematography or paying for post-production, all have some ambiguity with Jinting.
His headquarters are in Shanghai, but his Hong Kong branch is said to be even more luxurious.
This branch in the science park is the least noticeable of the many branches in Jinting. In fact, if it weren't for Jin Shaoyan's grandmother settling here, there would have been no need to establish this branch at all. Jin Shaoyan lived with his grandmother from a young age, and only began to travel with his parents when he was 14. It was an honor for this city to become the third most important place of residence for Jin Shaoyan after Shanghai and Hong Kong.
Now, the young master of this troll building is waiting for me to save him. I strode confidently to the entrance, only to be stopped by the security guard...
The tall, strong security guard looked like he'd served in some kind of military unit, completely different from the kind who carried glow-in-the-dark tape and rubber batons. I reckon if he dared to use dirty tricks on someone like me, he'd be unstoppable.
He was quite polite to me as well: "Sir, may I ask what brings you here?"
The phrase "What brings you here?" sounds polite, but if someone says that to you, it usually means you won't be able to do what you want.
It's no wonder people are like that; everyone around us is wearing designer suits, some even with name tags around their necks, and the women are all in warm-toned business attire. How can it not remind one of the classic office lady look...
Then look at me. Although I'm dressed fairly cleanly, I have a semi-pornographic magazine tucked under my arm and am carrying an umbrella in a rather incongruous way. Perhaps as a man, I'm showing too much skin—I'm wearing a short-sleeved shirt.
The most common way to deal with a "watchdog" is to snort coldly and say arrogantly: Go and call out ** to me! Upon hearing this, the "watchdog" will immediately change color (though some will remain obstinate). Only after the real person is called out will the "watchdog" completely reveal his servile nature, bowing and scraping as he is led in. It would be perfect if he could say something like, "You little rascal, you didn't recognize my greatness."
If it were Kim Jong-un in charge, there wouldn't be much of a problem with what I'm doing. The problem is, Kim Jong-un doesn't even know me! When I come out and realize he doesn't recognize me, it'll be like a "retired special forces soldier beating up a pretentious jerk," which is way more satisfying than "outsmarting a watchdog."
Besides, the security guard really did nothing wrong. If I were him, I wouldn't let someone like me in either.
I had no choice but to call Jin 2 and explain the situation. Jin 2 asked, "Why won't he let you in? What, you're wearing short sleeves? Didn't my instructions say you must wear formal attire?... Why are you so late? You're a full 5 minutes late. You..." I ignored what he was saying and just handed the phone to the security guard.
...After a bit of trouble, I finally got in. I took the elevator to the 16th floor, and as soon as I stepped out, I was stunned: every single room on the entire floor had been hollowed out, leaving only the load-bearing walls standing forlornly, decorated for all to see. That Jin Shaoyan is a real scoundrel! Such a prime location, and he uses the entire floor as his office—utterly extravagant!
As I expected, a beautiful office lady was idly manicuring her nails in front of the giant office door. The moment the elevator doors opened, she immediately put on a serious expression, a professional smile, and waited patiently to reject me.
This Watch Dogs 2 seems tough to deal with. I just told her, "Young Master Jin has made an appointment with me."
As expected, the beautiful young lady smiled and said coldly, "Young Master Jin made an appointment for 2:30, and it's a quarter to 3 now."
I didn't believe he could handle anything important in 15 minutes. He was probably just playing Minesweeper like me. I didn't have time to waste with her, so I handed her the phone. Upon hearing this, the girl, Ruhua, immediately smiled radiantly, giving the office door a seductive glance. Jin 2 must have said something cheesy to her, making her act all coquettish and giggle lewdly. Finally, Ruhua asked with barely concealed concern, "Young Master Jin, is your cold better?" It was clear that the two had already had a platonic relationship.
After successfully switching the beams and pillars, I bid farewell to Ru Hua and entered Jin Shaoyan's door.
As soon as I came in, I saw this kid sitting with one leg curled up in the beautiful room, wiping his nose with a tissue.
Jin Shaoyan No. 1 was looking at a stranger who had suddenly barged in with amusement when he asked in astonishment, "How did you get in?"
I pretended to be puzzled and looked back, then said very seriously, "From the door."
...
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Greatest Enemy
I walked over and threw the magazine on Jin Shaoyan's desk, which was big enough for a threesome, and pulled up a chair to sit opposite him.
The feeling was strange; the person in front of him was so familiar, yet so unfamiliar. Compared to Jin 2, this Jin Shaoyan had a hint of aloofness and coldness in his eyes, a true air of a spoiled brat who had grown up in a powerful family.
He glanced at the magazine, a glint of lust in his eyes, and said in a hoarse voice, "Are you Miss Wang's agent?"
I showed him some photos from my MP4 player: "These are some of Ms. Wang's everyday photos. You can take a look and see if she has the potential to develop in the film and television industry."
Jin Shaoyan gestured for me to put it down, then pulled out a few tissues to cushion the MP4 as he picked it up, looking like he was picking up a pile of dog poop. The MP4 had been played with by Qin Shi Huang until it was gleaming, and it certainly didn't look very clean, but was this really necessary?
Jin Shaoyan was quickly attracted by Li Shishi's seductive poses. He said, "Is this all?" As he spoke, he pressed the buttons and suddenly exclaimed in surprise, "Eh?"
His "Huh?" sent a chill down my spine—I immediately remembered that there were still a few photos of Jin 2 taken by Fatty Ying on the MP4! I jumped up, but the huge table stood between us like a mountain. Without thinking, I sat down, kicked the chair, and slid to Jin Shaoyan's side, snatching the MP4 away: "It's almost out of battery..." I then gestured with my hand and jumped off the table.
Jin Shaoyan was completely bewildered by my actions. I didn't have time to pay attention to him; I quickly checked the MP4 in my hand. It was probably a photo Qin Shi Huang had taken unintentionally—the world was spinning, and his entire body was covered in watermarks, except for his chin. I pressed the down arrow, and in the next photo, Jin 2's handsome face appeared clearly. What a close call! Even just a chin had caught Jin Shaoyan's attention. What's that saying again: no two leaves are exactly alike, and no two chins are exactly alike.
Jin Shaoyan tapped the table with his gold pen and asked me again in a questioning tone, "Are you really Miss Wang's agent?" It seemed he had temporarily forgotten about the chin incident. No wonder he was suspicious; from the moment I walked in, I hadn't shown any behavior befitting an agent, and I was even far removed from an accountant. If you didn't listen to the conversation and only looked at the screen, anyone with an IQ above 15 would definitely think I was a scoundrel who took nude photos to extort money.
Jin Shaoyan tapped the table with his pen again and said coldly, "Speak, who exactly are you to Miss Wang? What is your purpose in coming to see me?"
I was in a real bind, because I felt I couldn't keep lying to others with a story even I didn't believe. I have this problem: I always assume that even if others are smarter than me, they don't have as many tricks up their sleeves. Ever since I dealt with Ersha and his gang, I've just started thinking everyone else is a bit dim-witted. I remember a guy once said to me with a heavy heart: "Thinking you're smart is fine, but thinking you're smarter than others is a recipe for disaster." This guy was a wholesaler of counterfeit cigarettes; who knows how many counterfeit Zhonghua cigarettes on the market passed through his hands. That heartfelt remark came from a van full of counterfeit cigarettes—they gave him half a bag of counterfeit money.
I told Jin Shaoyan, "Actually, Wang Yuannan is my cousin, but she is sincere about wanting to work for your company."
Jin Shaoyan asked warily, "What's your mother's last name?"
I said quite naturally, "His surname is Wang."
Try to be clever with me.