One Third Remaining Chapter Thirty-Three Sales Call

Bang! A tremendous explosion echoed in Han Yuan’s ears. He immediately slammed on the brakes, parked the car by the roadside, pushed open the driver’s door, and stepped out. Glancing at the deflated left front tire, he looked toward a nearby repair shed, the corner of his mouth curling into a cold smile. “Interesting…”

Suddenly, he caught sight of something yellow under the back seat. Han Yuan’s expression turned icy as he opened the rear door. “You again?”

The young man with yellow hair slowly raised his head, hands lifted in surrender, his neck hunched as he climbed out. “I just wanted a ride…” His eyes sparkled with admiration. “I must say, you’re a true master of deception! Turning a truck into a luxury car—impressive, truly impressive! From today, you’re my big brother, Han Yuan. Please look after your little brother in the future…”

Han Yuan snorted coldly, his right hand secretly slipping into his pocket, gripping the small knife tightly. He stared at Yellow Hair with interest. “When did you sneak into the car?”

“When you were bowing to that lady,” Yellow Hair forced an honest, sincere look onto his face. “At first, I just wanted to hide in the car, wait for the woman to finish her meal, and catch a ride when she left. But then I witnessed your skills firsthand, and my admiration for you poured forth like a waterfall, as boundless as the Yangtze River. I couldn’t help but want to get closer to you…” As he spoke, he dropped to his knees with a thud. “Big brother, please accept your little brother’s bow!”

Han Yuan smoothly pressed the knife to Yellow Hair’s throat, his voice icy. “Getting closer, huh… All these tricks you play, I’ve played before. If you don’t tell the truth, you’ll only get close to the King of Hell in the future…”

“Big brother…” Yellow Hair felt the sting of the blade breaking his skin, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He stammered, “I swear… I’m not lying… I really just wanted a ride…”

Just then, Yellow Hair’s phone vibrated wildly in his pocket, the cheap speaker blasting a ringtone loud enough to shake the heavens. “A Zhen fell in love with A Qiang, on a starry night…”

Han Yuan tilted his head, sneering. “Nice taste,” seeing that Yellow Hair seemed oblivious to the ringing. “Answer the phone. Didn’t you hear it?”

“It’s not important…” Yellow Hair’s eyes darted nervously. “Probably some scam or telemarketer. These days, phones are just for watching dramas and reading the news. At most, you message friends every now and then—no one actually calls anymore…”

“Answer it!” Han Yuan’s face grew even colder, his voice sharp.

Yellow Hair, his mouth dry, fished out his phone and answered the call. Before the caller could speak, he barked, “No need, no money!” Then he hung up, forcing an awkward smile at Han Yuan. “Real estate agent. No idea which bastard gave my number to them. Lately, I’ve been getting calls from agents and loan companies non-stop. At least they’re considerate—more calls for loans than buying houses. Maybe they know I’m broke…”

“Call back…” Han Yuan snatched Yellow Hair’s phone. “Never mind, I’ll do it myself…” He slid across the screen, opened the call log, glanced at the latest call, and tapped the top number, putting it on speaker while staring expressionlessly at Yellow Hair. “This agency’s been reaching out quite a bit, huh…”

After three rings, the call connected. A gentle woman’s voice came through. “Brother Huang, you’ve finally come around! That’s right, this is a rare opportunity. Our units are north-south facing, close to the subway, with full amenities around the neighborhood—kindergarten, elementary school, market, everything you need… If the developer hadn’t run off, the owners wouldn’t be so eager to sell. Honestly, if I had the money, I’d have bought one myself…”

Yellow Hair immediately relaxed, stiff-necked, he shouted, “Get lost! Not only am I broke, even if I had money, I wouldn’t buy in that neighborhood. What do you take me for, a sucker? The developer’s skipped town, who knows how much they owe. I’d buy a place and, before I even settle in, the court would seize it and I’d lose both money and house… You agents only care about your own commissions, never about the buyers’ fate!”

“If you’re broke, why call me? Just to mess with me? I kindly offer you prime listings, but your horizons are so narrow you don’t appreciate it. And now you insult me? Serves you right—you’ll never make it rich in your life!” The woman’s voice fired back like a machine gun, furious.

Yellow Hair, red-faced, started to snap, “Your mother—” but the busy tone cut him off mid-sentence, and he breathed heavily, frustrated.

Han Yuan squinted at him for a while, then slowly withdrew the knife and handed back the phone.

Zhang Xiaoman took the phone, pulled out a red bill from his pocket, and handed it to a woman dressed in a real estate agent’s uniform. “Thank you. That’s why professional matters are best left to professionals. Money well spent.”

The woman beamed as she tucked the bill into her own pocket. “Sir, if you ever need more of this work, come find me again… Actually, I’m not just a real estate agent. On the side, I sell insurance. Want to consider buying a policy? The more insurance you have, the more security. As the saying goes, you won’t go broke eating or spending, but if you don’t plan, you’ll be poor all your life. In a way, insurance is an investment—use today’s idle cash to avoid tomorrow’s risks…”

Zhang Xiaoman gave a bitter smile and waved his hand. “No need. I won’t be needing it…”

“Then maybe a burial plot with good feng shui?” The woman cupped a hand over her mouth, lowering her voice. “I do have some coveted resources. Normally, I wouldn’t mention them, but I was saving them for my dad. Seeing how we get along, I’ll part with it for you…”

Zhang Xiaoman looked her up and down, wrinkling his nose. “Your dad’s around fifty, right? Planning ahead?”

She raised her thumb. “You’ve got a sharp eye. My dad just turned fifty this year. I was going to buy it for his birthday, make it a surprise… But never mind,” she bit her lip. “The moment I saw you, I thought of my own father. I’ll let you have that precious plot. If funds are tight, I can help arrange a loan—full service, satisfaction guaranteed!”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Zhang Xiaoman’s eye twitched. “I doubt I’ll need the burial plot, either…” He glanced at his watch, turned toward the real estate office’s door. “I have things to do, so I’ll be going. Miss, a word of advice: don’t gift your father a burial plot for his birthday. Otherwise, it might turn his birthday into an anniversary…”