Chapter 199 - Do You Really Want To Know? (Don't Skip)

Dai Fang might have found the gold mine but he could not shake off the feeling of nervousness that was clawing him from the inside out. While he was in the elevator to top floor of The Kingly Empire, he felt like he was sweating profusely. He kept on wiping on his forehead and nose for any perspiration but his handkerchief always came away unstained.

Maybe he was even too scared to sweat.

It had not been easy to score a few short minutes with the chairman but when he called earlier and nagged, the secretary finally gave in and said that the chairman could spare some time after his lunch.

Two men in suits were situated on either side of the rich wooden doors, both of which were pushed open to let him in. He greeted, "Good afternoon, Chairman Qing."

The man was behind his desk in a smart gray suit, even more graying hair, and a pipe was dangling from the corner of his lip. The room smelled faintly of burnt leaves and it was more humid than Dai Fang would like. The huge golden symbol of The Kingly Empire—a dragon in a circle—rose above him on the wall like in a king's throne room.

Chairman Qing only grunted in response. "What do you want?"

This is not good, his mind whispered. Abort mission! Abort mission! Abort mission!

But he stood his ground. He was not even invited to sit down but he crossed the room, putting his hands behind him and he explored the many paintings that hung on the pillars. "I have been hearing things with the other shareholders. They want to replace Qing Chen."

Chairman did not answer and continued to work on the papers on his desk. Qing Chen must work like this too, taking the spare time from their lunch to get back to work.

"I just have to say…" he trailed. "I think I may have some proof of your son's wrongdoings."

"Wrongdoings?" Chairman Qing scoffed. "Qing Chen and wrongdoings? They don't belong in the same sentence."

"Yes, yes," Dai Fang said walking to the other side of the room with even more paintings. Is this a Van Gogh? his mind asked. He shrugged. Probably just a replica. If the painter's pieces went on sale the whole world scrambles for it. "But I did find something that the golden boy did not resolve."

Finally the old man's head lifted and he was beckoned forward. Dai Fang jogged to him and handed him the folder containing the papers he had printed last night.

Chairman Qing laughed, his laughter booming inside the room. "You are funny," and pathetic, the old man followed in his head. "Do you think Qing Chen has control of the police?"

Dai Fang didn't want to face the fact that the gold mine that he found did not exactly contained much gold. Everything from the murders in the hotel had been tied to an end. But this one, something was suspicious.

When he saw the report about The Seven Seas Motel—the one that had burned a few months ago, he was ready to toss it away. It might be one of the oldest of the properties of The Kingly but the profits it made was not that astounding. What was suspicious was the police reports that came with it.

They labeled everything as an accident but the narrative of the events did not match up. "It was arson," Dai Fang said. "But they did not put it there. Why?"

Instead of being infuriated, the chairman laughed again. "You were a jobless mutt and your mother was delusional enough to beg us to make you manager. And now you're a detective? Make up your mind, kid."

Dai Fang's nose flared. He didn't know if the words were meant to distract him but he wasn't swayed. "But is it arson?"

Chairman slid the folder back to him. "Goddamnit. You want answers? Go to the police. Stop wasting my time. Go home to your mother."

Dai Fang snatched the folder from the table and said his farewell. When he turned the corner in the hallway, his knees felt weak. How did the Qings live with a father like that? They must've been terrified.

**

Qing Chen had been called to his father's house after work. He had no clue on what it was about. He wanted to get home immediately because he got some takeout from the hotel earlier—those thin crust pizzas that his wife loved so much, but when he saw the grim look on his father's face, he knew it would be a while before he could leave.

"What's going on?" he asked. Qing Lok was busy fiddling with his phone on the sofa. His grandmother was not in the meeting and Wuming was nowhere in sight. His father was at his usual one-seater, puffs of smoke coming out of his mouth.

"Sit down, Chen."

Qing Chen begrudgingly sat down, unbuttoning his coat. "Is something the matter? Do we have to wait for Wuming?"

His father's eyes cut to Qing Lok who seemed to bow his head lower. "Wuming is not here. He had been taking contracts over the last few weeks."

Qing Chen fought the urge to rub his temples on that. But he got that his brother was bored. "I'll try to talk to him. What else?"

"What happened to The Seven Seas Motel?" his father asked.

"It's nearly done. We've got people working from sunrise to sunset. Around 70% complete already."

His father's hands were atop the cane he always carried around. "The Dais are looking more into you. They found this case. Dai Fang thought it was arson. It was pretty obvious, isn't it?"

Qing Chen was confused. Where was all these coming from? "Yeah, I know that."

"But you never submitted anything else other than that."

"The police closed the case. What am I supposed to do?"

"You paid them to keep quiet."

"Of course I did. What else would you rather me do?" he asked, getting agitated. 

"When Dai Fang presents that case to the shareholders, they would ask questions. They need someone to pay for the money they lost."

"It's been months! They already earned it back."

"The Kingly lost money, hundreds of millions—"

Qing Chen rolled his eyes. "They're crying so much."

His father stood up. Qing Chen knew this look in his father's eyes, threatening. But he was not even scared. Instead he smirked at his father's face. "Do you really want to know why I didn't say anything about it? Why I closed the case?"

His father looked around, his hands widespread around him. "What else did I call you here for?"

He nodded at Qing Lok's way. "Ask Lok. He was the one who found out about it. Tell him, Lok. Tell him who burned The Seven Seas."

Qing Lok seemed to have been swallowed by the chair.

"Well, who is it, child?!" his father screamed.

Qing Lok flinched, then in a quiet voice, almost indecipherable. "It was Wuming."