Chapter 141 — Old Buffon's Origins
Years of Heartflutter · Page 134 of 214
"We ordered three coffees. Why did you charge us for four?" one of them, a youth in a basketball jersey, pointed at the waiter and shouted loudly.
"Sir, you clearly ordered four. Look, there are four cups on the table." The waiter pointed somewhat aggrievedly at the used cups on the table and explained in a low voice.
"Damn it, are you running a crooked shop? Four cups sitting here means four cups? Then if you put a hundred cups here, that's a hundred cups? What kind of bullshit logic is that?" the youth in the basketball jersey cursed.
"But sir, weren't there four of you earlier? Please think carefully—one person left first, and he ordered a cup too." The waiter patiently prompted.
"That earlier guy—the coffee that earlier guy drank, why don't you go ask that earlier guy for the money? What are you telling me for?" The youth in the basketball jersey would have none of it, glaring and baring his teeth.
"Weren't you all together?" The waiter was somewhat exasperated, but seeing the three tough-looking young men before him, he did not dare lose his temper and could only continue explaining.
"Together? Who said we were together?" The youth in the basketball jersey was growing impatient. "Keep dawdling and I won't pay for these three cups either."
"Weren't you talking together just now? You ordered the coffee together—how can you say you weren't together?" the waiter said, troubled.
"Damn, are you never going to shut up?" The youth in the basketball jersey waved his hand. "So what if we talked? Lots of people talk to you every day—do you know all of them? You talked to me too, so are you going to pay my bill as well?"
"Sir, isn't that being unreasonable?" the waiter muttered.
"What the hell did you say? Who's unreasonable? Tired of living, are you? Annoying, aren't you?" The youth in the basketball jersey grabbed the teapot from the table and hurled it at the waiter.
The waiter jumped in fright and hastily dodged to the side—but that dodge mattered little, for the teapot flew straight toward Yang Ce's table.
Yang Ce was instantly furious. You don't pay your bill—fine, that's none of my business. But throwing a teapot my way—that's your fault. Yang Ce's reaction was incredibly quick. Seeing the teapot about to hit, he casually flicked his hand, and the teapot flew back the way it came.
However, some of the water in the teapot still splashed out, drenching both Yang Ce and Xiao Qing—something Yang Ce could not control by human effort. Yang Ce could deflect the teapot, but not the water. And precisely because of this, Yang Ce's counterattack showed no mercy: the teapot whooshed back and struck the youth in the basketball jersey square in the face, instantly sending blood spurting from his nose.
The sudden turn of events left the waiter and the youth's companions stunned. Then the youth in the basketball jersey came to his senses, clutched his nose, pointed toward Yang Ce, and shouted, "You—stand up!"
"And they say we're from Donghai. Seems Songjiang has its share of small-time thugs too." Sun Jie had seen it all; she did not take these petty thugs seriously at all, so she could still chat and laugh.
Yang Ce smiled. Back in Donghai, when Wang Cheng'en had come to make trouble, Yang Ce had once made veiled jibes at Sun Jie—implying that on the Sun family's own turf, thugs still dared to trouble Sun Jie, which spoke poorly of their management.
Now, though Sun Jie still did not know that the hidden boss of Songjiang was none other than himself, he had more or less settled that old score.
"In Songjiang, no one knows you." Yang Ce smiled.
"So what do we do now? You take on three by yourself?" Sun Jie looked at Yang Ce and asked.
"There are three of them and three of us. Seems fair enough." Yang Ce said indifferently.
"Do you think Xiao Qing and I have any fighting power?" Sun Jie shot Yang Ce a glare.
"Xiao Qing doesn't, so I'll take two and you take one," Yang Ce said.