I Have 10 Trillion Dollars only Usable For Simping

Chapter 2445 - 1545: Getting Rich by Moving the Coffin (Part 2)

"Alright, Uncle Fang, I’ll be honest with you then."

"You don’t have to be honest, if you can fool me and your Aunt Pan, that’s your skill."

Jiang Chen smiled wryly.

"Actually, Fang Qing lied because she didn’t want you to worry."

"If you don’t tell us, we’ll just worry more."

Pan Hui said, "Your Uncle Fang and I are pretty old now; there’s nothing we can’t handle. Jiang Chen, go ahead and speak frankly. What’s the deal with the door and the paint? What happened last night?"

Jiang Chen nodded.

"Last night, Fang Qing and I went to see Fu Zili, then we went to Tie Jun’s place to have some drinks. By the time we got back, it was around midnight; when we went upstairs, there was a strong smell of paint. Walking to the door, we discovered... the door had been splashed with paint."

"How could this be..."

Pan Hui was incredulous, unable to accept it.

Such paint-splashing incidents are often seen in movies and the news, but how could it happen to their family?

She and her husband, Fang Weiguo, have always been kind to others and have never had a confrontation with anyone.

"Could it be they targeted the wrong person..."

Pan Hui’s response was quite humorous.

"Mom, with something like this, I don’t think they’d make a mistake."

Fang Weiguo remained calm, showing the composure of a head of the family, quietly sipping his tea after learning the truth, seemingly deep in thought.

"Then who could it be? Who would be so despicable?"

"Aunt Pan, instead of wondering who did it, better think about whether you’ve offended anyone recently or had any disputes with someone."

"No, as for your Uncle Fang’s temperament, you know he never argues with anyone."

"Have you bargained too hard while buying vegetables?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

Fang Weiguo burst into laughter; he knew, of course, that the child was intentionally lightening the mood.

"This kid. Your Aunt Pan never takes advantage of anyone; she’s often been shortchanged by dishonest merchants. When I want to go confront them, she stops me, saying it’s a blessing to suffer losses. But look, is suffering losses a blessing? It’s clearly the kind-hearted being bullied."

"Uncle Fang, do you have any suspects?"

Fang Weiguo paused, then shook his head.

"Not for now."

Though not as educated or accomplished as the kids, having lived more than half a lifetime, he certainly has wits and brains.

The purpose of paint-splashing is clear.

It’s either a threat or intimidation.

The most common users of such tactics are demolition teams and loan sharks.

But just now, he thought through everything and found that he had no connection whatsoever with these criminal forces.

The Sanjian Courtyard is indeed about to be demolished, but no disputes exist.

And as for loan sharks, that’s completely out of the question.

Life used to be tough, but Fang Weiguo can swear to heaven that he’s never borrowed money from anyone, not even relatives or friends, let alone loan sharks.

People can be poor, but they must have backbone.

After his daughter grew up and graduated, borrowing money was completely unnecessary.

If borrowing was involved, it was others coming to borrow from him.

So after all the contemplation, Fang Weiguo still had no idea who could have done it.

"Maybe we should call the police?"

Pan Hui suggested.

When there’s trouble, ordinary folks tend to look for "Mr. Cap" (the police).

"Why call the police? Do you want this to become known to everyone?"

Fang Weiguo immediately expressed opposition. No matter who did it or why, being splashed with paint is not something you want spreading around.

"But what if we don’t call the police? What if it happens again?"

Pan Hui’s concern was valid; it’s not just about a singular theft but potentially repeated targeting. The root problem needs solving; you can’t keep changing doors all the time.

"Even if you call the police, what use is it? There’s no surveillance in the courtyard; it’d be pointless. Just ask Qing Qing if the police are omnipotent."

Pan Hui was at a loss for words.

Having been out driving trucks, Fang Weiguo had seen quite a few incidents; one of life’s important lessons upon entering society is to call the police once.

He recalled when driving on the highway, oil would frequently be stolen, virtually impossible to guard against. Call the police?

Every incident ended up unresolved and forgotten.

"Aunt Pan, Uncle Fang, do you know anyone who drives a coffin car?"

"Coffin car?"

Pan Hui was shocked.

The discussion was becoming more eerie and scary.

"He means a type of domestic new-energy MPV."

Fang Qing added an explanation. As a legal worker, she must adhere to professional norms; she can’t bluntly name it, or it could infringe on the manufacturer’s reputation.

"You mean the LX model?"

Fang Weiguo quickly understood; he had driven for decades and kept up with the automotive industry.

As a seasoned driver with many years of experience, he was impressed that someone could design a car like that, regardless of its performance or looks.

It just shows how tremendously tolerant our current era is.

"Yeah, last night Fang Qing and I saw a car just drive out."

Fang Weiguo squinted his eyes, quickly reacting, "That car costs several hundred thousand, not something the average person can afford. There’s none in our courtyard."

"Did you see that car’s license plate?"

He immediately asked.

"Didn’t notice."

"You stared at it for quite a while after getting out, didn’t you?"

Qing Gege now believed he got out not just for the WC.

"When I got out, the car was already driving towards the courtyard gate; there were no lights, how could I see it clearly?"

"Could it be that car that did it?"

Jiang Chen nodded, "The paint was still dripping when we went upstairs, indicating the perpetrator left not long ago, so it’s very likely that car."

"But we’ve never seen any coffin cars before..."

Pan Hui was puzzled and confused.

"Dad?"

Fang Qing looked towards her father.

Fang Weiguo quietly shook his head.

"It’s alright."

Jiang Chen chuckled, "There’s someone who can definitely help."

"Who?"

The Fang Family’s gaze instantly shifted together.

"Fu Zili."

The lack of surveillance and unclear license plate didn’t matter much because that MPV isn’t a common car, highly recognizable, and has few in number. I believe the count in Sha City can’t be many.

It’s not that the true perpetrator is careless; it actually shows their arrogance and recklessness.

With white and black Ways colliding.

But finding a car is not too difficult given Fu Zili’s influence in Sha City.

Especially with the other party being so "flamboyant."

Jiang Chen was a bit curious; his hometown was once known as "Pirate City." He wondered if its reputation persisted discreetly.

"Right, Fu Zili is very influential in Sha City; he can probably find that car."

Fang Weiguo quickly said, "Qing Qing, quickly call Fu Zili and ask for his help."

"Let me make the call."

Who makes the call actually matters; after all, it’s a favor. But Jiang Chen didn’t care about that, or rather, he didn’t consider himself an outsider in the Fang Family, dialing Fu Zili’s phone in front of them.

If they’re family, then who makes the call and who owes favors truly doesn’t make a difference.

"So early? I thought you’d sleep till noon..."

Recently released, Fu Zili sounded lively and refreshed, quickly adjusting his state, "Are you inviting me for breakfast? Ah Fei Noodle House?"

"Need help tracking down a car."

Fu Zili paused, his tone immediately changing, "What kind of car?"

"LX model coffin car, deep space gray. Likely a local Sha City license plate."

Fu Zili noted down the rough information; he didn’t ask any further details.

"I’ll send someone to check immediately. This car is quite rare in Sha City; results should come quickly."

"Okay, thanks."

"No need for that."

After some brief chit-chat, the call ended.

On the other end,

Having declined an invitation from a buddy, Fu Zili, spending the first night post-release alone at home, smirked gloomily. With his experience and wisdom, he didn’t need to inquire about specific events.

He clenched the phone.

"Damn ’Coffin Sale Profitable’ indeed."