13. An Industry That Feeds on Human Blood

“Nephew, what do you mean by this?”

Seeing Chen Ze had said he was going to inspect the site but hadn’t even visited the project department, Su Wei hurried to catch up, his face full of curiosity.

No cigarettes left—no big deal.

At least he had left two boxes behind.

But Chen Ze wouldn’t let him speak the entire way, and everything he saw and heard filled him with confusion.

Chen Ze was stopped and didn’t respond hastily. He gestured to get into the car first, then settled into the driver’s seat and calmly explained,

“I’m planning the next big move.”

“A big move?”

Su Wei sat up straight. Thankfully, the Maybach was spacious enough, or he might have bumped his head.

Chen Ze smiled lightly at his somewhat clumsy uncle, feeling quite good.

In the previous life, the company collapsed, his father lost all ambition, and the dazed Su Wei naturally lost his job.

Fortunately, Su Meiqing had sold her beauty salon to his aunt, so it wasn’t included in the court proceedings.

The beauty salon was quite profitable, but it couldn’t compensate for the setbacks and holes Chen Tianhong had experienced.

So his two uncles continued living in Jinmen, running the beauty salon and living a modest life, occasionally receiving dividends.

But in 2021, one uncle got into trouble and had his driver’s license revoked for drunk driving.

No accident occurred, but Chen Ze knew his uncle had become even more aimless.

Life wasn’t a total mess.

But it wasn’t smooth sailing either.

Returning before all this happened, Su Wei, though just a driver, was still full of vigor.

Seeing Su Wei’s curious and puzzled eyes, Chen Ze paused for a few seconds before smiling faintly and saying calmly,

“I plan to organize a workers’ strike and invite media friends to sue the unscrupulous construction party.”

Ungrateful son!!

You’re turning against the family!!

Su Wei had been listening patiently, but as he heard this, he couldn’t help but widen his eyes in shock.

“You… what did you say?”

“I said organize a workers’ strike…”

Su Wei laughed angrily, his hands clenching and unclenching in the air, his head spinning with frustration as he said,

“Kid, have you been in America for two years and forgotten your own name? Do you even know who the construction party is? Don’t bring that damn freedom nonsense back to China.”

“I know. It’s my dad.”

“If you know and still do this, don’t even let your dad know. Even your mom might hit you.”

Su Wei was half amused, half angry, but Chen Ze calmly pulled out a cigarette and handed it over, saying,

“That’s why I’m telling you, Uncle.”

“I don’t smoke!”

Raising a white-eyed wolf for twenty years—even if not his own child—an uncle was still like a god.

Su Wei put on airs; if Chen Ze weren’t almost as old as him, he’d have smacked him on the spot.

But the cigarette remained extended, and after a huffy glance, Su Wei begrudgingly took it.

Just as he lit it and was about to assume the elder role, Chen Ze’s gaze returned from outside and asked,

“Has Bangyuan Real Estate been late on payments for a long time?”

Hearing this, and seeing Chen Ze’s serious expression, Su Wei rolled the window down and back up again, saying,

“Yes, but that’s normal.”

“What if it’s not?”

Before Su Wei could finish, Chen Ze interrupted sharply, his eyes piercing,

“Although I studied in the US and don’t want to be involved in this industry, I’ve learned a lot over the years. The depths in this business—I know them well.”

This was the first time Chen Ze’s eyes had been so sharp—at least Su Wei had never seen it before—and he was stunned.

Seeing his reaction, Chen Ze didn’t wait for more questions and buckled his seatbelt,

“I haven’t studied Bangyuan Real Estate’s details carefully, but if their cash flow breaks, what do we do?”

In the last life, Bangyuan Real Estate and Banghe Real Estate (a shell company) faked their finances to fool everyone.

On paper, the company was flush, but Gong Yaowu had actually used the money elsewhere.

Later investigations showed some funds went to auction other lands, some into the stock market, and some overseas. Banghe Real Estate was probably broke.

Because of this shortage, Gong Yaowu hurried to finish and open the building to raise more funds.

But after raising money, he didn’t save the situation—he fled. Was he unable to fix it? Or unwilling? No one knew.

“That can’t be…”

Seeing Chen Ze buckle up, Su Wei, for some reason, followed suit.

But he still couldn’t understand.

With such a vast real estate market, and now the market and properties doing well, why would their cash flow break?

And why would they run away?

Many didn’t understand this, including Chen Ze before, but reality was so detached from the public’s view.

To do some math, take the Banghe Mansion project—it could make about 10 billion yuan in profit.

After land, exploration, design, materials, PR, marketing, and sales costs, the developer’s profit was about 23%.

After tax, say 2 billion yuan. Hongye Construction Group took 10%, directly pocketing 200 million yuan.

Because of joint development, the remaining 1.8 billion was split with other shareholders, leaving about 1 billion yuan for the company, even less for Gong Yaowu.

A 1 billion yuan profit from one residential complex wasn’t small, but for an honest developer to earn that, it would take at least three years, during which they’d be anxious, constantly fearing accidents, market crashes, or poor management. They’d also have to set aside part of that billion to buy new land and start over, always on edge.

But now, there was an opportunity right in front of them—if you dared to feast on the bloodied buns, 5 billion yuan could be yours.

Move to another country, and with 5 billion yuan, you’d never have to worry. No need to wait 10 or 20 years—just wait for the right moment.

It was truly a feast of human blood.

Don’t even mention the banks, the innocent ones. The average person earns so little a year, half their life mortgaged on these houses, with unfinished buildings and mortgages still to pay. Most migrant workers’ annual wages were hard-earned blood and sweat.

You could run, fine.

But you damn well better not run off with the money.

Yet history shows how greed drives people mad and heartless—there’s no need to elaborate.

Having seen tech giants like Tencent and Alibaba, dealing in hundreds of billions, 5 billion sounded small.

But 5 billion yuan—

In reality, that meant a lifetime of luxury beyond spending.

Even in wealthy fiction, unless you bought companies or tipped streamers, 5 billion cash could pay for millions of words.

You only see the booming real estate market but not what a crash looks like. You see the thriving industry but not the ice age it can plunge into. You see policy support but not the crackdowns.

With such a volatile market, running off with money happens at the most opportune moments—when you think it’s impossible, that’s when they run. Otherwise, during the ice age, forget about running; how much money could you take then?

———

“Don’t talk about if it could happen or not. After topping out, there are plenty of unfinished projects. We can’t just hope for the best.”

The Maybach left the site. Chen Ze pulled out his phone, set up the navigation, tossed it to Su Wei, and looked ahead, continuing,

“That’s why I brought you here, Uncle. Others are just working for my dad, but we’re family. We need to think more.”

Hearing this, Su Wei found it reasonable and nodded as he smoked, then worriedly asked,

“That’s true. So what do we do?”

“What to do?”

This matter was too big. Chen Ze needed many helpers, each playing their part.

He had spent six years in Yanjing—three working for others, three as a partner in a startup.

He knew well the difference between those who understood how to use people and those who didn’t.

Though he hadn’t become a big boss, managing just a dozen people at a studio, he had some experience.

He had already roughly planned how to prevent the family’s bankruptcy and now simply stated,

“Do exactly as I said: organize the workers to strike and cause a stir, then bring in media attention.”

“Will that work? This matter…”

Su Wei still worried, and Chen Ze knew what was on his mind. He reassured him,

“Don’t tell my dad about this for now. Even if he finds out later, there’s still my mom.”

After giving the bracelet, Chen Ze had at least secured an ally.

Su Meiqing might not help him,

But she wouldn’t stand against him either.

Otherwise, mixed doubles would be terrifying.

“So you’re really going behind dad’s back…”

“Who says I’m going behind dad’s back!”

Seeing Su Wei accuse him falsely, Chen Ze got anxious. Before Su Wei could speak, he laughed lightly and said,

“The workers are striking because the construction manager, Huang Zhongshan, is skimming off the top and bullying them. How could my dad do such a thing? Don’t talk nonsense.”

“Huang Zhongshan? That fat guy? He even recognizes him?”

“Uncle, it’s all about human effort… Besides, you have no idea how terrifying the power of the internet and media really is.”