Chapter 126: Kick the Party?
Infinite KTV was quiet at 10:30 a.m., the usual thrum of music and laughter replaced by the soft murmur of idle conversation. A few hostesses lingered by the bar, yawning behind their hands as they gossiped about last night's slow shift. Sunlight slanted through the tinted windows, casting streaks of gold across the polished floors—too early for the neon glow that would later drown the room.
At the counter, Song Mingjie was making quite a scene. The chubby man had somehow pried open the locked wine cabinet, and now he sat cross-legged on a stool, pouring himself glass after glass of red wine, his cheeks already flushed. "Damn it, today's a *great* day!" he slurred, raising his cup to the ceiling. "Everyone drink! On me!"
The hostesses exchanged amused glances. "Mr. Song, it's barely noon," one giggled. "Aren't you starting a little early?"
"Early? Nonsense!" Song waved a hand, spilling wine on his sleeve. "Qian Baocui's in deep shit!值得 (zhíde, worth) celebrating!" He knocked back another glass, belching loudly. "And this wine… damn, Infinite's got the good stuff. I might never leave."
Wu Yifan stepped through the door just then, and his eyes zeroed in on the bottle in Song's hand. His expression soured.
That wasn't just "good stuff." That was a 1982 Lafite—Ye Xiwen's prized possession, a bottle she'd hunted down for months, worth tens of thousands. She kept it locked away, saving it for a "special occasion." Song was chugging it like it was beer.
"Having fun?" Wu Yifan asked, his voice dry.
Song jolted, nearly falling off the stool. "Brother Wu! You're here!" He grinned, wine dribbling down his chin. "This stuff's amazing. You've got great taste—"
"Five hundred thousand yuan," Wu Yifan said, cutting him off.
"…Huh?"
"For the wine. That's what you owe."
Song's eyes bulged. He slid off the stool, landing with a thud. "Five hundred *thousand*? Are you crazy?That's robbery! I know prices—this stuff's expensive, but not *that* expensive!"
Wu Yifan shrugged. "My mistake. It's actually one and a half million."
Song flopped back onto the floor, arms splayed. "I'm dead. Just bury me here."
Wu Yifan laughed, hauling him up. "Relax. I'm joking. But Ye Xiwen will kill you when she finds out. Let's talk in my office."
The security booth was tiny, cluttered with a desk, a folding chair, and a half-eaten bowl of instant noodles. Wu Yifan shut the door, and Song collapsed into the chair, still muttering about "extortion."
"Cut the crap," Wu Yifan said, leaning against the desk. "I need to make money. A lot of it. Fast."
Song perked up. "Money? I've got cash. Seventy grand, easy. Enough to buy you a nice place in Qingchunyuan—"
"Not borrow. *Make*," Wu Yifan interrupted. He held up five fingers. "Five million. In a month."
Song choked. "Five… million? Brother Wu, this isn't Shangjing. This is Beitian. Who makes that kind of money in a month unless they're robbing banks or selling drugs?" He shook his head. "It's impossible."
"It's a bet," Wu Yifan said, his tone firm. "I need to win it."
Song studied him, then let out a low whistle. "Damn. You're serious. Okay… let's think. Jackpot? Too lucky. Drugs? Too stupid. What else…?" He trailed off, scratching his belly. "My businesses? They make steady cash, but not *that* much. Not in a month."
Wu Yifan frowned. He'd hoped Song would have ideas—this guy knew every underhanded trick in Beitian. "Nothing? No loopholes? No quick scores?"
"Loopholes…" Song mused, tapping his lip. "Well, there's always—"
His phone rang, shrill and urgent. Song fumbled for it, scowling. "Who the hell is this? I'm busy! You better have a good reason, or I'll—"
The voice on the other end was panicked, barely coherent. Song's scowl deepened as he listened, his face reddening. "What do you mean, someone's taking over? Who the hell dares—" He paused, then shouted, "Three million? That bastard stole three million from us?"
Wu Yifan leaned in, curious.
"An islander? Mei Kan Kuzi? What kind of name is that?" Song roared. "And he's *gambling*? Beating Fifth and Sixth? Son of a bitch—" He listened for a moment, then slammed a fist on the desk. "Tell him I'm on my way. And don't let him leave. Not even for a piss."
He hung up, breathing hard. "Some Japanese prick's cleaning out my casino. Won three million in a row, and he's running his mouth—saying Beitian's got no real gamblers, he'll take every venue in the city. Arrogant bastard."
Wu Yifan's eyes lit up.
Gambling.
It was risky, sure, but with his intelligent enhancer—his ability to calculate odds, read tells, predict moves—he could clean house. Five million wouldn't just be possible. It would be easy.
"You need backup?" he asked, a slow smile spreading.
Song blinked. "You… you want to come? Brother Wu, this isn't just a bar fight. The guy's good. Real good. Fifth and Sixth are sharp, and he ate them alive."
"I know my way around a card table," Wu Yifan said. "Besides, you said it yourself—five million in a month is impossible. Maybe this is our chance."
Song stared at him, then broke into a grin. "Hell yeah. With you there? That Japanese bastard doesn't stand a chance. Let's go."
They left Infinite in a hurry, Song's car peeling out of the parking lot with a screech. As they sped toward the casino district, Song ranted about Mei Kan Kuzi—how he'd shown up three days ago, quiet and smug, and proceeded to win at baccarat, blackjack, even dice. "He's like a damn machine," Song fumed. "Never blinks. Never hesitates. Just… wins."
Wu Yifan nodded, his mind already working. The enhancer would track the cards, calculate probabilities, read the microexpressions Mei thought he was hiding. This wasn't just about money—it was about proving he could win the bet, about taking down someone who thought he could walk all over Beitian.
"You sure you're ready?" Song asked, glancing over.
Wu Yifan met his gaze, confidence burning in his eyes.
"Let's kick the party."
Song laughed, slamming his foot on the gas. The casino loomed ahead, a gaudy building with flashing lights and the faint hum of slot machines. Inside, Mei Kan Kuzi was waiting.
And Wu Yifan was ready to take his money.