50 — Chapter 50: Spending Money For Fun

Huajing University.

Qin Jiang had been playing the victim since early morning, and only after Yan Liang personally fed him a bowl of her “homemade” lotus seed porridge did he manage to arrive at school smoothly.

Of course, he didn’t, like in his previous life, cut up and throw away the ten black cards he had.

Those cards were not just money—they were passes to power.

“Brother Jiang, what’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

“Why do you look… weaker by the day?”

“Do you want me to take you to get some Chinese medicine to recuperate?”

Song Jie looked a little anxious as he stared at his bro’s increasingly thin face.

Handsome as he was… he clearly lacked vitality.

Chances were, he had been too indulgent.

One had to admit, Brother Jiang had earned his wealth the hard way—could an ordinary man really handle that?

“Shut up.”

“You’re the one who’s weak! You don’t understand how happy I am…” Qin Jiang ordered Song Jie to shut up. He had no classes this morning. The reason he came to school was to handle the backlog of student council affairs.

As he was made the student council president under unusual circumstances, Qin Jiang was initially overwhelmed by the favor, but later he became proficient at handling all related school matters.

Of course, the privileges the student council received—he had once tried to give as many as possible to Bai Chuchu.

For a while, anything Bai Chuchu handled in the student council went smoothly and prosperously.

That was one of the reasons Bai Chuchu had decided to stick with him back then.

“Brother Jiang, what are we doing at the External Liaison Department?”

The student council at Huajing University was well-regulated. Its offices were divided by specialization—like a small scale company.

“To make money.”

Qin Jiang didn’t explain and went straight to the External Liaison Department to look for Sun Zhaoyu.

In his previous life, Sun Zhaoyu’s grandfather would eventually become famous for his top-tier paintings. After the old man’s death, the works would be auctioned at the same prices as famous artists both domestically and abroad.

But before he became famous, Sun Zhaoyu’s grandfather, Sun Weilong, had his paintings deliberately undervalued by the gallery exhibiting them—what should have been worth thousands per piece was offered only two or three hundred.

In the end, the unscrupulous gallery would see Sun Weilong’s paintings each sell for tens of millions, not to mention his most famous work “The Fisherman,” which became the gallery’s centerpiece.

The prices were incalculable.

In his previous life, Qin Jiang had been fortunate enough to see Sun Weilong’s works. The man was truly a peerless master.

But now, the master whose works would fetch astronomical prices in the future didn’t even have money for medical treatment, and had to sell off his life’s work cheaply to the most heartless gallery in the capital, Pincai Gallery.

It was a gallery that swallowed artists’ talents and gleefully turned them into profits through such despicable practices.

Qin Jiang arrived at the External Liaison Department.

He asked and learned Sun Zhaoyu was not there.

Qin Jiang could guess where he was, so he asked for his home address, bought fruit and some supplements, and brought Song Jie to Sun Zhaoyu’s house.

Just as they reached the door, they heard a heated argument.

“You’ve gone way overboard! My grandfather’s paintings are artistic masterpieces! Lowering the price by this much is simply cruel.”

Sun Zhaoyu was nearly furious enough to spit blood.

He and his grandfather lived in an old urban village. His grandfather devoted his life to art, and they lived very frugally.

But their spiritual world was rich.

Now that the old man was ill, Sun Zhaoyu had to sell the only valuable items left in the family to pay for his treatment.

Who knew that upon learning they were desperate, the gallery heartlessly drove the price down.

“Little Sun, don’t be foolish. These are just worthless paper and paint piled together. We’re offering a few thousand to buy all your scrap—that’s already considered being charitable. Don’t mistake our goodwill for stupidity!”

“If you refuse these few thousand, your grandfather might not make it through tonight. Is that the filial piety you’re going to give him?”

The manager of Pincai Gallery, dressed in a suit, stood in the cramped room of the urban village with a look of contempt, all the while speaking coaxingly.

He claimed to recognize talent and had a shrewd eye.

Of course, he could see that old man Sun Weilong’s paintings were the accumulation of a lifetime’s experience and reflections on time.

Each of those paintings was almost a world-class masterpiece.

But he was a businessman, not a philanthropist.

Creating good art was one thing. Pushing the price to the lowest and extracting maximum profit was a merchant’s nature.

He intended to emotionally blackmail the naive grandson into relenting…

The atmosphere was tense. Neither man wanted to give in.

“Tsk, what’s going on here?”

“How can these paintings be called scrap? Judging a painting from its raw materials? Shame on you for being in this line of work.”

“I’d advise you to get lost—”

“Get out, get lost, and go as far away as you can!”

Qin Jiang pushed open the door and entered. Having once lived in an urban village with his foster parents, he was used to such surroundings. His gaze landed calmly on Sun Zhaoyu’s face.

Sun Zhaoyu had always been good at securing sponsorships in the External Liaison Department.

He was also a finance major and had outstanding professional ability.

Qin Jiang had once highly regarded his work capabilities.

Indeed, in the future he would become a formidable figure in the finance world.

However… under Qin Jiang’s recommendation, he was eventually recruited by Qin Moyun.

His strong abilities even brought many big clients to Qin Financial.

But now, he wasn’t going to be that sucker.

Such a promising talent—wouldn’t it be better to keep him for oneself?

“Qin… President Qin? Why have you come?”

“I’m handling some private matters. Is there any new task for the External Liaison Department?”

There was no doubt about Qin Jiang’s abilities in the student council. Aside from Li Hao causing trouble, the council officers generally respected Qin Jiang.

“I’ll pay one million for these paintings—I’ll buy them.”

“Sun Zhaoyu, I can cover your grandfather’s medical expenses, but on one condition.”

Qin Jiang wasn’t exactly a saint, but when benefit and helping others aligned, he was willing to play the good guy.

Sun Zhaoyu was stunned.

He had been at home caring for his grandfather recently, so he hadn’t gone to school and had no time to follow the school’s forum.

The fact that he could still recognize Qin Jiang despite how differently he looked now was already impressive.

But… of course he knew how poor Qin Jiang was.

Every college competition Qin Jiang participated in that semester had been for the prize money.

Sometimes he wondered if this guy’s house was completely empty or something.

Now… was he just here to show off?

Unfortunately, Sun Zhaoyu wasn’t in the mood to along with Qin Jiang’s antics.

He desperately needed money.

“Tsk tsk, you’re still a college student, right? You said $1 million? Can a poor student like you actually pay that?”

“And what’s with ‘president’? I get that you are trying to stand up for your buddy, but if you can’t fork out that kind of money and you scare off a real, potential buyer like myself, aren’t you going to end up killing poor Little Sun’s grandfather instead?”

The manager sneered. Seeing Qin Jiang’s age similar to Sun Zhaoyu’s, he couldn’t help but laugh.

He added, “These days, fake righteousness is worth the least!”

“Little Sun, your friend must be here to cause trouble—why don’t you kick him out? Otherwise for scraps like these, I won’t even want to pay you a few thousand.”

After the manager threatened him, Sun Zhaoyu was left in a dilemma.

Seeing this, Song Jie began to tug at Qin Jiang. “Brother Jiang, don’t make a fuss. You don’t understand art—are these paintings your idea of ‘making money’?”

From Song Jie’s understanding, if the gallery was only offering a few thousand, then Qin Jiang could offer just $100,000 out of goodwill. Why go all the way to a million?

Just because his bro had money didn’t mean…he ought to throw it away on just anything.

Sun Zhaoyu turned pale. He found it absurd when he saw the two bros act like they genuinely had money.

But he didn’t have the energy to argue. “President, please step outside.”

“Don’t joke around here—I’m really short on money…”

Qin Jiang was as steady as a mountain and didn’t budge.

“Jie, the $20,000 in cash I left at your place this morning—give it to Little Sun now.”

Song Jie, though puzzled, trusted Qin Jiang greatly.

He obediently took out the money.

Only after $20,000 in cash was neatly placed on the table…

Did Sun Zhaoyu then look at Qin Jiang in shock.

He… was the president serious?

“Now, can we talk?” Qin Jiang asked again.

The manager’s face turned nasty—according to his long-term artistic judgment, Old Sun’s paintings were worth far more than this, but now, a rival had shown up.

“Kid, don’t you understand first-come, first-served?”

“Get lost, don’t stand in the way of Pincai Gallery’s business,” the manager snapped.

“So buying a painting isn’t just about the highest bid, but you also respect first-come, first-served? Maybe I should teach that rule to the capital’s top auction house Fenglinxuan.”

Fenglinxuan Auction House was the high-end auction channel Pincai Gallery used. Its bidders were all wealthy or noble—who would dare offend them?

Yet, this unremarkable college student actually knew about Fenglinxuan?

What was his background?

A college student casually pulling out $20,000 in cash meant that this boy came from a fairly well to do family.

Then again, it was merely $20,000.

Maybe it was a bluff—anyone in the trade knew these paintings were worth far more than $20,000.

Even if he took a random one to Fenglinxuan, even without a signed artist name, it could start at a base price of several million.

“$50,000.”

“Little Sun, I’m offering $50,000 out of charity for your grandfather’s serious illness—if you sell these paintings to me immediately, I’ll give you $50,000 cash right away.”

The manager’s words did tempt Sun Zhaoyu.

$50,000 could at least afford better medical care for his grandfather.

This was far above his initial expectations.

He wanted to nod in agreement.

Just as he hesitated, a cough resounded from behind. “Manager, we won’t sell to you.”

“Young man, it’s probably hard for you to earn even that twenty thousand, right?”

“Yet you were willing to give $20,000 cash to my grandson to prevent my paintings from being sold cheaply—Grandpa thanks you.“

“I’ll sell these paintings to you.”

The old man had an eye for value. He knew that the manager of Pincai Gallery had been wildly undercutting prices from the start.

The fact that the manager was suddenly now able to offer $50,000 only proved he understood the paintings’ value but was intentionally suppressing it.

“Old man, you’d better accept the offer while I’m still feeling kind.”

“You should be well aware of Pincai Gallery’s influence in the industry—if your paintings are sold to an obscure private buyer, they may never reach the big stage or gain recognition in the art world.”

The manager was enraged and humiliated.

“And you, you’re just a pauper! How dare you fight for the paintings that Pincai Gallery has its eye on?”

“Do you know who you’ve messed with?”

Qin Jiang laughed. “I don’t care who you are—put your brains in order before talking to me!”

“I said I’ll buy them for $1 million, and I meant it!”

“I’ll also take responsibility for Grandpa Sun’s illness as I just promised. A great art master like you deserves proper respect.”

Sun Zhaoyu and his grandfather were stunned.

Was this kid really rich?

They didn’t believe it.

Perhaps he was still trying to put up a tough act because the manager was still here.

Song Jie stared at the manager as though he was staring at a corpse and thought, do you know what happened to the last piece of shit that bullied my bro?

The pampering, overindulgent Miss Yan Liang… BURIED HIM!