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After Fang Zhao had received his first payment, he had gotten someone to keep an eye on Fang Sheng. He knew that Fang Sheng no longer lived in the company dormitory when he was rich and often went out at night.
Fang Zhao gave the two an address and let them go. He believed that Fang Sheng's place would be very lively that night.
After the two men left, Fang Zhao remained seated in the same chair. He did not get up. He sat there quietly for a while, his fingers caressing his gun. He took deep breaths and suppressed the anger that had welled up in his heart.
He had almost pulled the trigger. He knew that the other party had no murderous intent, only malicious intent, but he had felt the urge to shoot.
Even though he had been reborn in the New Era, Fang Zhao had spent most of his past life in the apocalypse. He could not adjust to his new surroundings in such a short time. On the surface, Fang Zhao was no different from other people. He had integrated well in the New Era, but Fang Zhao knew that he was just suppressing the anger in his heart, the anger that had accumulated during the apocalypse for almost a hundred years.
The two men had probably sensed it, which was why they had been so "obedient."
Fang Zhao did not know how much longer he could suppress the anger in his heart. Would it dissipate over time, or would it continue to accumulate like it had during the apocalypse? All he could do was continue to suppress it and try not to make a move.
The last time he was robbed at the street corner, he almost couldn't control himself and shot the robber after he snatched the robber's gun. The gunshot Yue Qing had heard had been fired by him. The bullet had hit the ground right next to the thug's head.
Ever since then, Fang Zhao had sensed that the murderous aura in his heart had followed him.
The New Era was a world governed by laws. Even black streets did not dare go overboard. Fang Zhao did not want to break the rules. All he could do was wait for an opportunity to slowly unleash his anger.
Why did Fang Zhao look forward to installing gaming equipment in his office building? Because games in the New Era were connected to one's thoughts and feelings. If he could not vent his anger in real life, Fang Zhao would try it in a game.
While Fang Zhao was thinking about when he could vent his frustrations by playing games, Fang Sheng, who was waiting for news at home, was beaten to a pulp and forced to transfer half a million to the other party as compensation.
Neon Culture had just transferred $1.5 million to Fang Sheng when he was robbed of half a million. Fang Sheng was glad he'd been cautious and saved the $1.5 million in three bank accounts. Otherwise, he might not even have kept a cent of the $1.5 million.
Fang Sheng had been beaten up and robbed, but he didn't dare make it public. It wouldn't do him any good to investigate further. But Fang Sheng didn't understand. How did those two know his address? Wasn't he going to ask Fang Zhao for his bracelet? Why did he come to beat him again?
Fang Sheng still remembered them baring their neon green teeth and saying that he had tricked them. How had he tricked them?
Fang Sheng stayed in the hospital for five days, and that was when medical technology in the New Era was much more advanced than it had been before the apocalypse. Had it been before the apocalypse, he would have been hospitalized for at least a month.
Indeed, the two men had beaten Fang Zhao up. They were cowards before Fang Zhao, but that was because their well-honed instincts told them that Fang Zhao was not a good target. If they really wanted to go up against him, they would have to put their lives on the line. But they were only here to earn their living expenses. They had no intention of putting their lives on the line, so they chose to be cowards. [Love ↑ Go △ Little ↓ Say △ Net w
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But when it came to Fang Sheng, they reverted to their original selves. They wanted Fang Sheng to know what it meant to be a "black street punk."
Fang Zhao read the message he'd received. Fang Sheng had moved to another place after being discharged from the hospital, probably because he knew his old place was no longer safe and he was wary of the two professional debt collectors.
Fang Zhao left a message for the men he'd hired and headed to a residential building near Qi'an City's Third Ring Road. The black street was outside Qi'an City's Sixth Ring Road. The Third Ring Road was closer to the center, but there weren't many commercial buildings. Most of them were residential.
Fang Zhao received a message from Duan Qianji. The old man who was selling his house had returned and wanted to meet Fang Zhao to discuss the sale.
Fang Zhao followed the address and found his destination. The building had 120 floors and was more than 600 meters tall. The building narrowed from bottom to top. The ground floor was a few thousand square meters, but the top floor was only about 200 square meters.
And the address that Fang Zhao had received was the top floor.
The owner of the top floor apartment was an old man over 160 years old. He was older than Fang Zhao had been in his previous life. He was a composer. Many music-related higher education schools and books on composition had been co-written by him. Fang Zhao could recall quite a few of them from his memory.
Xue Jing was a name many people in the music industry had heard of.
Xue Jing's assistant was already waiting for Fang Zhao when he arrived.
"Please come in. Teacher Xue is inside." The assistant led Fang Zhao to a room but did not enter. Without Xue Jing's permission, no one was allowed to enter the room.
When Fang Zhao walked in, Xue Jing was sitting on a wooden sofa. In this day and age, people who used natural wood to make sofas were few and far between. The bookcase and table were all made of wood. The entire room had an antique feel to it.
The sofa and chairs were covered in a layer of wooden cushions. The temperature in the room was maintained at a moderate range.
"Hello, Teacher Xue." Fang Zhao was old and had been teaching for a long time. It was only right for Fang Zhao to call him "teacher."
Xue Jing put down the music scores in his hands and pointed to the single-seater sofa opposite him. "Sit."
Although he was over 160 years old, in the New Era, this was roughly equivalent to 60 or 70 before the end of days.
Xue Jing had quite a bit of white hair on his head, but he was full of vigor.
Xue Jing scanned Fang Zhao with a scrutinizing gaze and then met Fang Zhao's eyes. "What do you think of the layout of my house?"
"You definitely don't keep pets," Fang Zhao replied.
Xue Jing's assistant, who had just received permission to deliver tea, glanced at Fang Zhao when he heard this. In the past, when other young musicians came here, they would compliment the furnishings first, then compliment the musical notes hanging on the wall that even Xue Jing himself did not understand, and then flatter Xue Jing.
Unfortunately, Fang Zhao's brain circuitry was different from others.
Pet?
The assistant recalled his experiences since taking up the position. Xue Jing had never kept a pet. If he kept one, how could the bookcase and sofa in the house look good?
Xue Jing was taken aback when he heard this. Then he laughed. "Indeed. You have one? "
"I have a dog. I picked it up on a black street," Fang Zhao replied.
Many people avoided mentioning words related to "black street," as they felt it would lower their status, but Fang Zhao did not think anything of it. It was a fact that he lived on a black street. There was no need to lie, and he could not lie. Presumably, Xue Jing had already understood everything from Duan Qianji.
Xue Jing sighed. "That's a pity. I had intended to leave all this for you." These pieces of furniture had been hand-made by a skilled craftsman. They had not been automated.
"The same piece of music produced by different composers will have different styles. It's not a pity," Fang Zhao said.
"Indeed." Xue Jing chuckled, his face revealing a few deep wrinkles. He lamented, "Nowadays, very few young people can settle down and compose. If Qianji had not assured me that you were the only composer of those two movements, it would have been hard to imagine that the composer was so young. But after seeing you, I suddenly had no doubts. "
Xue Jing could not explain why, but when he saw Fang Zhao, he felt that this person could indeed compose those two movements.
"Age is not the deciding factor in the quality of music," Fang Zhao said.
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