Chapter 102: Pay Enough Money, and It’s Yours

Daoist Qingjing never treated himself like an outsider. Once he saw that Chen Ji had finished reading the contract, he smoothly took it and flipped through a couple of pages. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and a “Holy shit” slipped out effortlessly.

Those three weren’t exactly upstanding folks, that was true. But if Little Azure Mountain could be developed, the ancestral hall in Shangyang Village would have to dedicate an entire page to Chen Ji. Forget posthumous honors—even while he was alive, the first stick of incense lit during festivals and holidays would be his.

Little Azure Mountain wasn’t impossible to develop. It was just utterly unnecessary. The complications involved were far too numerous and messy. This was such a remote spot with such rugged mountain roads that building even one proper road would cost a fortune—and money was actually the least of the concerns.

The region around Little Azure Mountain consisted of untouched wilderness areas, with natural features so well preserved that rare protected species thrived there. And right now, all the forests were state-owned. They’d have to clear that hurdle and get official approval before any construction could even begin.

Seeing this, the two men exchanged a subtle glance, their eyes lighting up slightly. There wasn’t a single downside to this contract. For the young man before them, signing it meant at least six million in annual income—and that was the worst-case scenario. The contract explicitly stated that if the pure profits fell short of ten million a year, the Yun, Xiao, and Zhou families would make up the difference to ensure Shangyang Village and Chen Ji got their full share.

But to their surprise, Chen Ji’s expression remained utterly calm, as if he were glancing at a sheet of scrap paper. Well-versed in the strategy of “the enemy doesn’t move, neither do I,” the two simply kept their heads down and sipped their tea, acting as though they hadn’t noticed he’d finished reading.

Chen Ji spoke first. “No interest.”

His refusal was crisp and decisive, without a hint of hesitation.

Zhao Fei looked at him in astonishment, double- and triple-checking whether Chen Ji truly meant it or was just negotiating. He probed cautiously. “Is there anything Master Chen finds unsatisfactory?”

Chen Ji shook his head. “The terms are actually quite generous, but there’s no need for it.”

“Won’t Master Chen reconsider?” Zhao Fei pressed. “You’re from Shangyang Village too. You must know what the average annual income is there. The young folks all leave for work in the cities, leaving the elderly and children behind to hold down the fort. If we can generate some revenue for the village, the young people will choose to stay local. Tourism will bring in the economy—not enough for lavish wealth, but more than sufficient for families to live comfortably without worry.”

“Doesn’t Master Chen want to see his fellow villagers prosper?”

Chen Ji looked up and gave a faint smile. “In my opinion, you two benefactors should take this contract straight to the village committee. Why bother with an ordinary guy like me? I’m just renting a patch of land here. It really doesn’t have much to do with me.”

Of course Zhao Fei knew that. But before they’d even arrived, they’d been explicitly instructed that Chen Ji himself had to agree to this contract. It was obvious—this deal with its generous terms had been tailored specifically for Master Chen.

If he refused, the whole thing would be meaningless. Worse, it could backfire. People living comfortably in their ancestral homes wouldn’t take kindly to being told their place was getting demolished and they had to move out. Folks valued sentiment over a bit of cash. Wouldn’t that breed resentment?

Such principled people were rare, of course. Most problems boiled down to not enough money on the table.

Zhao Fei took a sip of tea and smiled. “After all, developing Little Azure Mountain hinges crucially on your spot here, Master Chen. We still need your approval first.”

“Mm.” Chen Ji nodded. “Then please pass on my message to Benefactor Zhao when you head back: I don’t agree. Tell them not to come disturb me anymore.”

Zhao Fei could tell Chen Ji meant it, but he kept his tone even and steady. “This is a major matter, Master Chen. You should take a few days to think it over. No rush.”

With that, he stood, placing his business card under the teacup. “Master Chen, if you have any questions or uncertainties about the development plan, feel free to contact me anytime.”

Chen Ji smiled faintly. “Alright, then I won’t see you out.”

He shot a glance at Daoist Qingjing, who stood as well. “Sure, I’ll walk them down the mountain… Take care of yourself.”

“I’m doing fine for now,” Chen Ji replied casually with a smile.

Daoist Qingjing had only held back from asking more because Chen Ji moved so freely. Hearing this eased his mind, and he led the visitors down the mountain. Once the three of them stepped out of the Mountain Lord Temple’s gates, Zhao Fei said, “Daoist, hold on a sec.”

He started to raise his phone for a photo, but Daoist Qingjing pressed it down. “Fewer pictures.”

“Hm?” Zhao Fei blinked in confusion. “Daoist, is there some taboo?”

“The man doesn’t welcome you,” Daoist Qingjing said. “Best not to do things that might offend.”

Zhao Fei didn’t quite get it, but since the Daoist had spoken, he pocketed his phone. On the way down, Zhao Fei reported the situation back to his contacts in S City. Daoist Qingjing overheard a snippet—not bad for professionals. They weren’t giving up; they planned to wear him down.

Grind away until Chen Ji agreed.

…That might be a hard nail to crack.

Chen Ji might look easygoing, but his personality was anything but soft. That nail was forged from steel.

From the corner of his eye, Daoist Qingjing caught a flash of red shadow darting through the nearby underbrush. He tilted his head to gaze at the sky, fished a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and strolled leisurely downward.

Liu Datie watched the three depart from the window. Too lazy to go out, he rolled over on the bed and continued bantering idly with his livestream audience. Viewers who’d been tuned in for nearly two straight days showered him with gifts, amazed he still had the energy after streaming so long.

“Pfft… What do their comings and goings have to do with me?” Liu Datie said. “They’re just pilgrims! Plenty of folks are super devout about this stuff. Nothing weird there.”

“Heading down the mountain? Probably tomorrow,” Liu Datie yawned. “I’m wiped today, and it’s getting late anyway…”

{Bro, wanna check the time before you say that?}

{It’s ‘late’ alright… like 3 p.m.?}

{Just admit you wanna pig out at the feast. We won’t make fun of you.}

“Don’t call me out like that!” Liu Datie scratched his head and grinned. “The mountain’s actually pretty fun. Great food, nice digs. Check out this view—net-red spots charge two grand a night for less. I’m tempted to come back next break and hole up here for ten days or half a month!”

{No thanks, it’s not two grand—it’s a hundred thousand a night, easy.}

{Datie, you forgetting you gotta split half the earnings with your bro?}

Liu Datie froze. He’d been having too much fun and totally spaced. With a wail, he bolted upright. “Crap! Why didn’t you guys remind me sooner? I haven’t sent your brother a dime yet!”

Not just to Chen Ji—even the Mountain Lord’s incense donation box was empty from his side!

He scrambled for his slippers and dashed out, determined to track down Chen Ji and settle up right away.

Meanwhile, Chen Ji knelt piously before the statue in the main hall. Outwardly, nothing seemed amiss, but a chilling, clammy sensation wrapped around him—It lingered right behind him.

Faint, yet undeniably there.

Chen Ji pretended not to notice. He clasped the moon blocks in his slender fingers and murmured softly, “Grandpa Mountain Lord, the folks down below have hearts blacker by the day… They claim they’re helping us develop Little Azure Mountain and draw tourists, but really, they just want to seize control of it.”

“They say I don’t have to do a thing but sign… One little accident, one fudged account, and they could send me straight to prison. Hell, maybe even a firing squad.” Chen Ji kept his eyes downcast, his refined features taking on an extra touch of grievance from the posture. “All because of that recent business… They want to take the chance to do me in, then do whatever they please with this mountain.”

That was exactly how it was. The contract was a shiny baited hook. Once Chen Ji bit, he’d be at the mercy of those three families. Best case, they’d help him get what he wanted and fork over at least six million a year to keep him happy. Worst case, they’d have him dead to rights.

No matter how capable he was, could he go toe-to-toe with the state?

He couldn’t just turn fugitive, could he?

With a sigh, he continued, “Of course Grandpa Mountain Lord isn’t afraid. But I am… Terrified of getting locked up, of losing days like these forever.”

He lifted his gaze to the statue swathed in silk, a flicker of attachment in his eyes. “You’ve been so good to me. I don’t want to leave you. As for the incense offerings, we’ll take it slow. It’ll get better… right?”

The chilling, clammy sensation tightened around him almost like an embrace. Chen Ji relaxed his back and leaned into it. The touch felt solid now, giving his body real support.

The moon blocks tumbled from his hand—one yin, one yang. Holy block. The Mountain Lord approved.

Chen Ji smiled, little more than a whisper. “Thank you, Grandpa Mountain Lord.”

No voice replied. He still couldn’t hear Its words.

In ordinary times, the Mountain Lord was quite accommodating, especially toward Its sole temple attendant. It had no desire to harm him. Wasn’t there a saying? When danger came, the Mountain Lord handled it. When there was no danger… the Mountain Lord was the danger.

Footsteps approached. The supportive presence behind him vanished in an instant. Chen Ji settled back on the prayer mat, his expression neutral, and glanced over his shoulder to see Liu Datie charging in, phone in hand, taking two steps at a time. “Bro! There you are!”

“What’s up?” Chen Ji made no move to rise.

“Pull out your phone,” Liu Datie urged. “I’m heading down the mountain tomorrow! Gotta settle that money first like we agreed. Check my backend earnings—half are yours, as promised! My assistant already sent the follow-up contract for the ongoing revenue share. Just sign it!”

Chen Ji actually had a good impression of Liu Datie. “You could stay a couple more days.”

Liu Datie grinned. “Got a packed schedule—booked gigs I can’t skip, or I’d owe penalties! Heh, if you really can’t bear to see me go, pack me some of that… you know, mushrooms, bamboo shoots, wild greens…”

Chen Ji nodded. “Easy enough. I’ll have Shunfeng pick it up shortly and ship it straight to your place.”

“Awesome!” Liu Datie watched Chen Ji check the earnings, then promptly transferred his share. He followed up by scanning the donation box’s QR code with a few 8888s and 6666s. “Contract too—want me to send it?”

Chen Ji shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. No need.”

“Nah, you gotta! We shook on it!” Liu Datie pulled up the contract on his phone and sent it over, gesturing impatiently for Chen Ji to look.

But Chen Ji, true to his word, didn’t bother glancing at it. “Too lazy. Not signing.”

Liu Datie had no other choice. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll wire the money to you later!”

Chen Ji burst out laughing. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he hurried over to the incense table and grabbed a few items. Returning with a straight face, he intoned solemnly, “Many thanks to Benefactor Zhao for your generous donation. The Mountain Lord shall bless you!”

With those words, he handed the items to Liu Datie.

Liu Datie took them and peered inside. A few talismans folded into neat triangles lay there. He couldn’t hold back his laughter either. Winking at Chen Ji, he asked, “Brother, does this mean I get them all?”

“Just going through the motions,” Chen Ji replied with a nod. “Donate enough incense money, and they’re yours.”