The Heiress's Driver Rules the Underworld

Chapter 4 — Thirty-Six Cars Block My Way Home?

The black envelope was thin. The message inside had plenty of attitude.

Shen Kaiyue finished reading the line and slipped it into his pocket.

“How many people?”

The security guard glanced toward the gates. “I didn’t count. More than thirty cars. There’ll be even more people.”

“Are they blocking the road?”

“Completely.”

“That won’t do,” Shen said. “I still have to get off work.”

The guard stared at him. His mouth opened, but he decided not to ask why Shen was still thinking about clocking out at a time like this.

Luan Zhaowan came out of the house with a light coat over her shoulders. She did not ask who was outside. Her gaze went straight to Shen’s right hand.

“You put the handkerchief away?”

“It’s in my pocket.”

“Don’t use it to wipe the car.”

“Depends how bad the damage is.”

She ignored that and turned to the guard. “Save a copy of the gate footage. Record every license plate. If anyone crosses the gate, call the police immediately.”

“Yes, Ms. Luan.”

Luan Xiaoman followed them outside. She looked far more excited than the guard.

“All thirty-six South District crews came? They’re never this organized.”

“You know them?” Shen asked.

“Racers, delivery drivers, mechanics—every kind of person. Their leader is Qiu Dongye. Half the underground races in the South District go through him.”

“What about the other half?”

“Depends on his mood.”

Shen nodded. “Sounds like he has too much free time.”

The three of them stepped beyond the courtyard.

Headlights bleached the road outside the Luan residence white.

Sports cars, SUVs, modified sedans, and several vans covered in freight-company decals stretched from the gates all the way around the corner. Dozens of hazard lights flashed at once, making the convoy look like a long creature crouched in the night.

A dark-green SUV stood at the front.

A man in his early thirties sat on its hood. He had a buzz cut, a black jacket, and a cigarette between the fingers of his right hand. When Shen appeared, he crushed the cigarette into a pocket ashtray instead of dropping it on the road.

“Qiu Dongye.” He jumped down. “People who drive in the South District call me Brother Dong.”

Shen looked at him, then at the road full of cars.

“Couldn’t find a meeting room?”

Several people behind Qiu laughed.

Qiu laughed too. “They said the new guy had a sharp mouth.”

“Say what you came to say. Old people live here. Don’t honk.”

“Fine. I’ll show the Luan family some respect.” Qiu pressed one hand down toward the crowd. “We’re not here to make trouble tonight. I want two things.”

“Go on.”

“Return the custom shop Young Master Fang lost, exactly as it was. Then buy my injured brothers a banquet and apologize.”

Luan Xiaoman stepped forward. “Fang made the wager himself and lost the shop himself. Who are you demanding it for?”

“Miss Luan, that shop never belonged to Fang alone. The crews helped build its equipment, technicians, and connections. If you take everything because you won one bet, what are the rest of us supposed to live on?”

“That’s between you and Fang.”

“The property is in your hands now.”

Luan Xiaoman was about to answer when Shen raised one hand.

“The transfer is tomorrow?”

“Ten in the morning,” she said.

“Then it isn’t yours yet.”

“What are you saying?”

“That he came to the wrong person tonight.”

Shen looked at Qiu Dongye. “If you want the shop, talk to the man who lost it. If you want an apology, send the brothers themselves. And move the cars.”

Qiu’s smile faded.

“I didn’t come here to negotiate.”

“Neither did I.”

They stared at each other across several meters of road.

A young man wearing a silver chain lost patience first.

“Brother Dong, why waste words on a driver?”

He pushed through the crowd with a tire wrench in one hand and walked toward Luan Zhaowan’s black sedan.

“You like crashing cars, don’t you? Let’s see what you drive tomorrow.”

The wrench had barely risen when Shen appeared in front of him.

The young man felt something close around his wrist.

In the next instant, the wrench was in Shen’s hand and the young man was pinned against the hood. His chest pressed into the cold paint, one arm twisted behind his back. Every attempt to move sent pain through his shoulder.

“This car was already hurt once this afternoon,” Shen said beside his ear. “Touch it again and that counts as a second injury.”

“Let go—”

“Who pays for the repairs?”

“I do.”

“You didn’t hit it.”

“Then I won’t!”

Shen released him and offered the wrench back handle first.

“Hold it properly. That isn’t what tools are for.”

The young man accepted it and returned to the crowd without lifting his head.

No one among the dozens of people laughed now.

Qiu Dongye examined the man’s wrist, then looked back at Shen.

“No wonder Instructor Cui lost.”

“Want to try?”

“Not tonight.” Qiu took a card from inside his jacket. “Midnight tomorrow. South Embankment Salvage Yard. First we race, then we fight. If you win, the shop belongs to the Luans and no one in the South District touches it again. If you lose, return everything and leave the South District car scene.”

Shen did not take the card.

“She already won the shop.”

“Then what do you want to add?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Afraid the stakes will be too high?”

“Afraid you can’t afford them.”

Qiu stared at him for several seconds, then tucked the card beneath the SUV’s windshield wiper.

“See you tomorrow. If you don’t come, that shop won’t stay open for a single day.”

He turned and climbed into the SUV.

Shen walked two steps into the road.

“Wait.”

Qiu lowered his window. “Changed your mind?”

“Move the cars.”

“The road will clear after we leave.”

“I want to go home now.”

The crowd stirred again.

Before Qiu could answer, Luan Zhaowan took out her phone.

“We recorded every license plate,” she said evenly. “You are obstructing a public road and making threats as a group. The Luan Group’s legal department will submit the evidence tomorrow morning. Clear the road now, and I will pursue only the garage obstruction and vehicle damage. Keep blocking it, and I will calculate every offense separately.”

Qiu frowned. “Ms. Luan, half the freight drivers in the South District have ties to us. Taking this too far won’t help the Luan Group’s harbor project.”

“Are you threatening my business?”

“Reminding you.”

“Message received.” She held his gaze. “Now remember something yourself. If the harbor runs short of drivers, I can hire more. If you run short of food, there may not be anyone willing to feed you.”

She never raised her voice.

The road became quieter than before.

Qiu kept one hand on the steering wheel. Several seconds passed before he waved toward the convoy.

“Make way.”

Engines started one after another, and the sealed intersection slowly opened.

As the last vans passed, one young man remained at the roadside. He wore oil-stained coveralls and had closely cropped hair. He looked at Shen once, then lowered his head to his phone.

Qiu sounded his horn.

“Zheng Kailu. We’re leaving.”

Only then did the young man open the door of the final van.

Silence returned after the convoy disappeared.

Luan Xiaoman walked around the damaged sedan. “This definitely can’t be driven tomorrow.”

“It can,” Shen said.

“Planning to crash it again?”

“The boss covers vehicle damage.”

Luan Zhaowan gave him a look and headed toward the garage.

“Come with me.”

A black executive van stood at the far end of the garage. It was several years old and deliberately unremarkable, but both the body and windows had been kept spotless.

She tossed Shen the key.

“Drive this from tomorrow onward.”

“A company car?”

“A group asset temporarily assigned to you.”

Shen opened the driver’s door. The interior had plenty of room, a sturdy chassis, and cargo space for equipment.

“Fuel?”

“Reimbursed.”

“Car washes?”

“Reimbursed.”

“What if I crash it?”

Luan Zhaowan folded her arms. “Do you look forward to crashing?”

“I like to define liability in advance.”

“Normal damage incurred while performing your duties is covered by the group. Anything you hit on purpose comes out of your pocket.”

Shen put away the key. “Reasonable.”

Luan Xiaoman leaned against the van, sounding distinctly sour. “When I got my license at eighteen, she gave me an old car. You’ve worked half a day and already have a company vehicle.”

“My performance must be excellent.”

“Win tomorrow before you brag.”

Before Shen could answer, his phone vibrated.

A message had arrived from an unknown number.

South Embankment Salvage Yard has three gates. The second is the narrowest. Qiu Dongye will make you race the van. If you want to win, meet me at the custom shop tomorrow morning. —Zheng Kailu

Shen read it and replied with two words.

What time?

The response came almost immediately.

Nine. I’m not helping you cheat. I want a different boss.