Chapter One Hundred and Twenty: The Fool

Inside a room, several men with brightly colored hair were gathered around a stout man, playing cards. Two were seated, and two were watching.

"Fatty, hurry up and play! I only have a pair of threes. Do you want them or not?" asked a handsome man with flowing silver hair.

"Can't beat it."

"Looks like you're going to lose this round again."

"After this hand, I have to go eat," the stout man said, covering his cards and patting his large belly with a sheepish grin.

"Don't do that! Didn't you just get some money?" one of the standing men urged.

"No can do. My tummy is hungry; I need to have my dinner," the stout man chuckled foolishly.

"Go on then, go on. Number Four, take Fatty to get something to eat," the silver-haired man waved him off.

"And after I eat, I need to take a nap," the stout man added.

"If you keep acting cute with me, see if I don't beat you to a pulp," the silver-haired man threatened impatiently.

"Off I go, off I go," the stout man rose from the table and followed a man with green hair out of the room.

"That silly fatty, he leaves halfway through the game every single time," another man, this one with red hair, said as he sat down to continue playing.

The silver-haired man scoffed, "Hmph, he’s just afraid his mother will beat him to death."

"Boss, how much have we managed to get out of him so far?" the red-haired man asked.

"Must be tens of millions by now," the silver-haired man said smugly.

"That much? The Hou family really is rich. Little Fatty Hou just has a lucky life," the red-haired man said with envy.

"Hmph, his life is lucky, but it’s a shame he’s an idiot. All that money is just being handed to us," the silver-haired man played a card.

"Boss, Hou Jinhua isn't someone to be trifled with. If we keep fleecing her son like this, won't she come after us?"

"What’s there to be afraid of? Our fathers aren't pushovers either. Her position isn't exactly secure right now. I heard from my old man that she’ll be lucky to last another three years," the silver-haired man said dismissively.

"So, we should take advantage of the time she’s still in power to get as much as we can from her dim-witted son. Once she's gone, the debt is wiped clean, and no one will have anything to say," the others laughed.

"Boss, I did hear a rumor," the red-haired man whispered, "they say it's possible this silly little fatty might actually succeed his mother."

The silver-haired man stopped playing and looked serious. "Oh? Is that true?"

"It should be. After all, our Nanling Chamber of Commerce was built by the Hou family over three generations. They are deeply rooted, and their people are everywhere. If an outsider were to take over, the elders would certainly be dissatisfied. If others can take the seat, why shouldn't they?" the red-haired man hesitated before speaking with conviction.

"In that case, we should give Little Fatty some sweetening. What do you think about gifting him a few beauties?" the silver-haired man mused.

"The boss is the boss for a reason! We may be close to him, but nothing beats the power of a pillow talk. I'll go pick out a few pretty, obedient women right now," the red-haired man stood up to leave.

"Number Two, remember to pick girls from ordinary backgrounds. No 'ladies of the night'—their ambitions are too big," the silver-haired man added as a precaution.

The red-haired man waved his hand. "Don't worry, Boss."

***

In a luxurious dining room, there were only three people: the stout man, the man with green hair, and a large, stout chef in a white uniform.

"Young Master, look at you—you only know how to play all day, and you've grown even thinner," the chef said with a pained expression as he brought over a large basin of seafood soup.

"Mmm, I'll definitely eat a lot today. Uncle Wang is the best to me," the stout man said, slurping the soup noisily.

"Good, I'll go whip up a few more dishes for you. We just got some wonderful ingredients recently," the chef said, watching with relief as the stout man finished the large basin of soup, before turning to leave.

"Fourth Brother, why aren't you eating? You look so skinny, you should eat more," the stout man said, offering a greasy, large bone.

"Get lost! I'm not eating your leftovers," the green-haired man swatted it away, sitting to the side and sipping his tea.

The stout man didn't mind and continued eating.

Just then, a middle-aged man in a suit entered the dining room holding a gift box. Seeing him, the green-haired man retreated a few steps.

"Are you lot bewitching the Young Master again?" the middle-aged man asked sternly, walking over.

"M-Manager Zhao, I'm just following orders to keep the Young Master company during his meal," the green-haired man said, looking terrified.

"Hmph, it’s that good-for-nothing son of the Chen family again, always engaging in crooked business. Does he really think everyone else is blind?" Manager Zhao scolded.

The green-haired man dared not speak. Though his own family had some influence, he was little more than a lackey.

"Get out! If I see you again, and your hair is still green, see if I don't break your dog legs and send you back to your home in Guangdong Province!" Manager Zhao chided him as if shooing away a greenbottle fly.

The green-haired man scurried out of the room.

"Young Master, how many times must I say it? Don't associate with those riffraff. Their parents may have some power, but they are all good-for-nothings. You should spend more time with the young talents of the Chamber of Commerce; they will be able to assist you in the future," Manager Zhao said earnestly.

"But they all make fun of me and look down on me. Only the 'Eight Colors' are willing to play with me," the stout man said, gnawing on his bone, his mood dampened.

"Sigh, Young Master, you must have a specialized skill for people to respect you. If you only play cards and ball all day, others will surely look down on you," Manager Zhao tried to guide him.

"Oh, I know, Uncle Zhao," the stout man replied half-heartedly, then noticed the gift box in the man's hand. "What’s that? Looks like fun."

"Ah, this is actually a gift I intended for you, Young Master," Manager Zhao said seriously. "A small local chamber of commerce presented it to me yesterday. It is a magnificent sword—it can grow and shrink, lengthen and shorten. It is quite mystical, and it can even speak human language."

"So magical? Let me see, Uncle Zhao!" the stout man said with anticipation.

Manager Zhao smiled and opened the box, revealing a golden short sword, two feet and one inch long, with a hilt over two inches.

"Treasure sword, treasure sword, can you really talk?" the stout man asked it eagerly.

The short sword hovered in mid-air and replied with disdain, "Nonsense! I am the one-and-only divine sword under the heavens. What is talking? I can even change my length at will."

"Isn't that just like the Golden Cudgel in the myths?" the stout man was overjoyed. "Then show me a long one!"

As he spoke, the short sword floated above the dining table and slowly began to lengthen.

"Hey, that's great!" the stout man clapped. "Make it longer!"

The short sword transformed into a long sword and kept growing.

"Young Master," Manager Zhao warned hurriedly, "it cannot get any longer. If it grows any further, the Chairwoman will discover it."

"Oh, I see. I'll play with it in private," the stout man thought for a moment. "Uncle Zhao, this is a great gift. What reward do you want?"

"Well, Young Master, my son wants to go to the North next month. Could you speak to the Chairwoman? Don't keep him under house arrest anymore; let him join this year's northern caravan so he can earn some merit and make up for his past mistakes," Manager Zhao said, appearing embarrassed at first, but finally blurting it out.

"That's simple. Uncle Zhao's son is Zhao Sheng, right? Even though he hit me before and stole a woman I had my eye on, I'll forgive him for the sake of this sword. I'll mention it to my mother tomorrow and let him go," the stout man said, fiddling with the sword, making it grow and shrink, enjoying himself thoroughly.

"Thank you, Young Master! Thank you! I have already ordered Little Sheng to break up with that shameless woman; he shall never again be disrespectful to his superiors."

"Forget it, I’ve already forgotten what that woman looks like," the stout man said, his attention entirely on the sword.

"Then this subordinate will take his leave," Manager Zhao nodded and turned to go.

"Go on, go on," the stout man waved.

After Manager Zhao left, the stout chef walked over.

"Young Master, why didn't you finish your meal?" he asked with concern.

"Forget it, I'm going to play with my sword. I'll eat this afternoon," the stout man said, running out of the restaurant by himself.

"Sigh, what will happen if the Young Master keeps this up? Only playing and not eating properly," the chef looked at the delicious food left on the table and sighed. "One must treasure every grain of rice. I suppose I'll just have to finish it for him. Such a hardship."

As he spoke, he buried his head in the food and began to feast.

"This tuna is excellent. The East Sea Chamber of Commerce really has a knack for catching such large ones."

"This spore-meat is quite fragrant. My own cooking really is the best."