Chapter 4 Master Jian's Defeat at Maicheng

How could it sell for so much money? Jian Zhen's first reaction was that some people were going to spend far too much to curry favor with her father.

Her thinking wasn't that she didn't recognize the value of her graduation project, but rather that, in her view, the artistic value and commercial value of an animated short film were two unrelated things. Her graduation masterpiece, which she had poured her heart and soul into, was certainly commendable in terms of artistic value, but its commercial viability… was likely quite limited.

Unlike the prevailing sentiment of the times, Jian Zhen had never been particularly fond of money throughout her long life, except for a few years—when her desire for money was more like a desire for an important prop, unlike some people who loved money for its very essence. Therefore, upon suddenly hearing that such a large sum of money had appeared in her account and was waiting to be cashed in, she didn't feel particularly happy. Instead, she felt a bit annoyed, as if she were playing the lute to a cow, which would moo twice and then stick its head out and chew up her instrument.

"What do you mean?" The man with the tattooed arm interrupted in shock, pointing at Jian Zhen and saying, "You're saying one of her paintings is worth 100,000 yuan?"

Before Xu Weisheng could reply, he turned to Jian Zhen and uttered a fatherly remark: "Damn, you make so much money! What are you doing hanging out on the basketball court?! Hey, I have to say, you guys are really—"

The more he talked, the angrier he got. Some people in this world don't appreciate the food God feeds them; instead, they insist on squeezing onto the same chopping board as him. These guys have developed in all aspects, but they've also squeezed his already limited living space. How can you not hate them?

Seeing that the green snake on his brother's arm was almost turning into a red snake, a quick-witted henchman stepped forward to smooth things over: "Hey, Brother Long, calm down, calm down. She can make money, isn't that perfect? ​​Let her give us back that 100,000 yuan painting. It's better than us sticking with this penniless nobody, right?"

After saying that, the younger brother glared at You Yu and spat, "You're a piece of trash that wouldn't be worth much even if sold by weight."

Words can be hurtful, like a sharp sword piercing the chest. If You Yu hadn't been held up, he would have preferred to fall backward and die.

After his younger brother coaxed her for a long time, the man with the tattooed arms and chest finally stopped heaving so violently. Well, what was the point of reasoning with a ungrateful girl like Jian Zhen? Besides, money is the most important thing in the world.

"You need to write a note." The tattooed man and his underling whispered a few words to each other, and the latter announced it on his behalf.

"What kind of note?" Jian Zhen frowned, a bad feeling rising in her heart, as if she was about to be separated from her painstaking creation.

"Transfer your copyright, yes, copyright, to my older brother!"

"Is there any room for negotiation on this?" Jian Zhen asked, her gaze fixed on Xu Weisheng standing to the side.

Hsu Wei-sheng naturally passed the question to the two brothers, asking, "Is there?"

"Stop talking nonsense! Paying back debts is a matter of course!" The tattooed man suddenly flew into a rage, grabbed a golf club from the person next to him, and slammed it into You Yu's back.

"Ah!" You Yu immediately fell down, curled up in a ball, and must have been in great pain, as he kept letting out painful groans.

With his tattooed arm raised, he was about to hit the club again. His hands were already strong, and in his rage, his swing was like a whip, with a faint sound of tearing through the air. Only then did Jian Zhen realize the seriousness of the problem—his gossipy nature had made her momentarily overlook his unadulterated hooliganism. This sudden scene made her feel a chill run down her spine, and blood rushed from her heart to her limbs.

Yes, where is this place? And who is she standing among? This is not child's play. You Yu covered his head and rolled around on the ground. If this continues, he might really be beaten to death.

"Stop hitting him." Xu Weisheng couldn't stand it anymore. Hissed as he stepped forward and grabbed the wrist of the tattooed man who was raised above his head.

To be honest, when Xu Weisheng was fifteen or sixteen, his father, Xu Lijun, discovered his potential to be a heartbreaker during a meal together. So, out of a strict stance against early romance, he sent him to a martial arts school to learn martial arts techniques from a master. This move was very effective. During those years when his peers' hearts were most restless, Xu Weisheng was either busy learning martial arts or busy getting injured. He didn't even have time to open the love letters handed to him, let alone read them.

Fortunately, he didn't fall in love with his peers early, and his fighting skills far surpassed theirs. For example, in the current situation, he was holding the tattooed wrist, and if he exerted force with his fingers and palm, he could immediately dissipate the force on the tattooed wrist, causing the golf club to fall from his limp hand.

However, the worst thing is when things go wrong. Xu Weisheng strained his fingers and palms, but his tattooed wrists remained as hard as steel. He knew something was wrong—tendonitis, an occupational disease he had developed from years of painting.

Fortunately, the cue stick was still managed to be taken away – it was Jian Zhen who came to her senses, stepped forward, grabbed one end of the cue stick with one hand, and forcefully pried it out of her tattooed hand.

With a clang, she tossed the slightly warped club to her feet, accompanied by a trembling voice: "I'll give it to you."

Jian Zhen signed a crude and ridiculous handwritten contract. Her tattooed henchman then pulled out a box of ink from some hidden corner and forced her to put her fingerprint on it.

The moment she pressed the button, Jian Zhen thought in despair: This is really the end.

"Can I take him with me?" She turned and glanced at You Yu, who was being helped up by Xu Weisheng, and asked in a low voice.

"Let's go." The tattooed man held the draft contract in his hand, looking it over from left to right, unusually showing a rare display of compassion.

Jian Zhen turned and walked towards You Yu, when suddenly a tattooed man called out from behind, "Stop right there—"

"What is it?" She frowned slightly.

"Give me your phone." The tattooed man, true to his reputation as a seasoned thug, knew that if Jian Zhen called the police as soon as she stepped out, he would definitely be implicated. By taking her phone, it would take her at least an hour to find the police, and by then he would have already run away.

Jian Zhen stood still and took a deep breath. Compared to transferring the copyright, she took out her phone very decisively and handed it to the nearest underling without looking back. The underling had only heard of the 4S but had never even seen it. He was overjoyed to have it in his hands.

"Can you walk?" Jian Zhen asked coldly, standing in front of You Yu.

"It should be fine. It'll be a bit troublesome to carry him on your back, but no bones were broken." Xu Weisheng helped You Yu up and down, looking him over like a fishmonger at a market, giving his opinion on the fish before selling it.

After he finished speaking, he lifted his eyelids and looked closely at Jian Zhen.

Jian Zhen stared intently at him, as if determined to see right through him.

Xu Weisheng felt a little ashamed and couldn't wait to hand the groaning, unlucky fellow to Jian Zhen. Jian Zhen took You Yu's arm and wrapped it around her shoulder. At this moment, she heard Xu Weisheng say in a low voice, "A wise man submits to circumstances. Don't hate me."

“I know.” Jian Zhen’s voice wasn’t as low anymore. She didn’t care whether the tattooed arm could hear her. She paused and then said sarcastically, “Thank you.”

“…You’re welcome.” Xu Weisheng watched the two figures, one vertical and one horizontal, leave. The ambient noise, actively filtered out by the auditory system, flooded the screen. He turned his head and saw that, sure enough, the tangible smartphone was more eye-catching than a perfunctory contract.

The tattooed men and their underlings crowded together to look at the new iPhone, chattering away. Suddenly, someone exclaimed, "This is a pirated copy! Why are there words on the phone?"

It's no wonder they're ignorant; Apple hadn't launched a custom laser engraving service yet that year. The line of text on Jian Zhen's phone back cover was manually engraved by a friend who was a metalworker.

"Hey, newbie, you think you know everything? Come over here and take a look, is this a real apple?"

Xu Weisheng accepted the invitation, took Jian Zhen's phone, and flipped it over. Sure enough, there were words on the back, including several uncommon characters.

"What does this say? I can only make out one character," someone asked Xu Weisheng.

Xu Weisheng glanced at him, then couldn't help but laugh as he looked at the back of the phone. It was indeed a "one"—a "one" lying horizontally, a "one" standing at a 45-degree angle, a "one" standing straight up, a "one" almost lying on the ground...

Jian Zhen turned this line of text into a stop-motion animation.

Xu Weisheng chuckled as he gripped his phone tighter, thinking to himself, "Sigh, junior sister."