Chapter 40: The Landlord Arrives

In the silence of the night, another soul in Shanghai was left restless and melancholy. Yet, despite his worries, Mo Ran did not lose sight of his responsibilities. He knew he must first secure his own footing before he could hope to resolve the orphanage’s predicament.

For this reason, Mo Ran rose half an hour earlier than he had the previous day. After washing up, he mounted his three-wheeled scooter and made his way to the market. One hundred and sixty pounds of meat was far too much for a single butcher to supply, so Mo Ran had to seek larger and more plentiful vendors.

Having asked around the market, Mo Ran realized the local meat stalls could not meet his demands. Especially when it came to high-quality lamb suitable for skewers; it was not so easy to gather such quantities, much to his surprise. Still, he did not linger on the issue. At least, after making his rounds, he managed to clear out three butcher shops and purchased ninety pounds of lamb. Time was on his side, and he could continue his search as needed.

Upon returning to his rented room, Mo Ran first filled his stomach, then set about preparing the ninety pounds of lamb. He used four buckets of water to wash the meat thoroughly. Next, he brought out the newly purchased meat slicer. With the motor’s roar echoing through the room, the lamb was swiftly cut into neat strips, dropping from the machine’s chute into the metal basins Mo Ran had positioned beneath. After half an hour, all three basins—one large, two smaller—were filled to the brim with lamb. The final step was to sprinkle tenderizing spices over the meat.

By the time he finished, the sun had already climbed high in the sky. Mo Ran glanced at his phone: it was eight o’clock in the morning. He still had to deliver the goods to Boss Wang—time was tight.

He hesitated for a moment, then thought of a solution. If necessary, he could visit the appliance market for a larger meat slicer. Hiring extra hands was, for now, out of the question.

Meanwhile, the landlord of the orphanage, under Su Dashan’s instructions, set out with his entourage, brimming with aggression.

At the orphanage gate, Uncle Tie, the security guard on duty, suddenly heard the roar of an engine. He hurried to stand and saw a black Audi pull up, blatantly blocking the entrance.

“The license plate—SH S54250.” Uncle Tie had served as a security guard in Shanghai for many years and knew the city’s license plate policies well. Plates with nothing but numbers usually belonged to the wealthy or powerful. He immediately grew cautious, sent a message to Director Mo on WeChat while the occupants had yet to emerge, then opened the door and stepped outside.

Just then, the Audi’s horn blared. The sudden noise irritated Uncle Tie, whose chronic hypertension made him sensitive to loud sounds.

Nevertheless, to avoid unnecessary trouble, he endured it, putting on his professional smile. He approached the driver’s window, bent respectfully, and knocked three times.

With a soft mechanical hum, the window slowly descended, revealing the landlord inside—wearing sunglasses, radiating arrogance.

“Hello, sir. Are you waiting for someone?” Uncle Tie glanced at the man, feeling a vague familiarity, though he could not place it. Hesitating briefly, he smiled and asked.

“Yes. What do you want?” The landlord gave Uncle Tie a glance, disdain flickering in his eyes, his contempt evident even in the nasal tone of his reply.

“Sir, this is an orphanage. Cars might need to come and go at any time. If you’re waiting, could you move to the side? There’s space there, and you won’t be charged for parking.” Seeing the landlord’s attitude, Uncle Tie frowned slightly. Even with the sunglasses, he could sense the man’s scorn. Still, he kept his smile, bowing as he spoke.

Shanghai was a city of hidden dragons and tigers; a private orphanage had to tread carefully. Offending the wrong person could mean closure with a single phone call.

“You won’t let me park?” the landlord snapped, tearing off his sunglasses and gripping them tightly, clearly displeased.

“No, no. I only meant it’d be best for you to move aside and clear the driveway,” Uncle Tie replied, awkwardly smiling. Did these wealthy people hear nothing but flattery all day? How could such a simple request be misunderstood?

“Old man, I’ll park right here. What will you do about it? This tree was planted by me, this road built by me. If you want to pass, pay the toll.” The landlord laughed, thumb pointed at the orphanage, his tone fierce. “I’m here today to see your director.”

“You’re here to see our director? May I ask what business you have?” Uncle Tie grew wary, his question laced with caution.

“I told you—this tree was planted by me, this road built by me. If you want to pass, pay the toll,” the landlord repeated coldly.

Only now did Uncle Tie realize: this was the young landlord who had inherited all the property from the recently deceased old landlord. Was this the proverbial new broom sweeping clean?

“What caliber are you, speaking so close to me?” the landlord waved his hand with exaggerated arrogance. “Tell your Director Mo to come out.”

“Our Director Mo is busy at the moment and can’t come out,” said Uncle Tie, intimidated by the landlord’s gangster-like demeanor, and so he made up an excuse.

“Open the gate, then. I’ll drive in to find her.” The landlord pressed on, fully aware of his mission—to use rent as leverage and exacerbate conflict, thus fulfilling Su Dashan’s aim.

“Visitors must register first,” Uncle Tie insisted, citing regulations.

“To hell with that. The entire orphanage belongs to my family. Do I need your permission to enter?” Repeated refusals had clearly annoyed the landlord, who began cursing at Uncle Tie, his attitude utterly overbearing.

Just then, a figure slipped through the orphanage’s side door—it was Director Mo, who had seen Uncle Tie’s message and hurried out...