Chapter 136: Who Is the Sick Man

A cigar—is that not smoking? Perhaps a cigar is technically not a cigarette, but in the eyes of most people, there is likely little difference between the two.

Jiang Hao turned his head toward the waitress and asked, "So, you’re saying it’s acceptable for this foreigner to smoke a cigar, but not for me to smoke a cigarette?"

"Yes," the waitress replied haughtily.

Jiang Hao frowned. "Call your manager over. I want to speak with him."

"This..." the waitress hesitated.

"Go!" Jiang Hao commanded bluntly.

Perhaps their conversation was overheard by the foreigner smoking the cigar. He turned, glanced at Jiang Hao and Su Qingli, and let out a sneer. Neither Jiang Hao nor Su Qingli paid him any mind.

A moment later, a young foreign man who looked like the manager followed the waitress to their table. "Hello, is there a problem?" he asked in broken Mandarin, his demeanor arrogant.

"I want to smoke," Jiang Hao said calmly.

Without a second thought, the manager shook his head. "That is not allowed. Our restaurant is non-smoking."

"Truly non-smoking?" Jiang Hao reached over, picked up Su Qingli's handbag, unzipped it, and pulled out a stack of bright red banknotes.

Seeing the thick wad of cash, the manager’s expression shifted instantly. Jiang Hao tossed the money directly at the manager’s chest, and the man scrambled to catch it.

"Now tell me, can I smoke?" Jiang Hao asked coldly.

The manager didn’t hesitate this time. He nodded repeatedly, his face breaking into a wide, servile grin. "Of course, sir. Please, just a moment." He hurried away and returned with a crystal-clear ashtray, which he placed on the table. "Please, sir, enjoy yourself."

He then retreated, leaving the waitress standing there, staring at Jiang Hao in stunned silence.

She truly hadn't expected Jiang Hao to throw money at someone, let alone such a large amount. While ten thousand yuan might not be a fortune to most, it was not something just anyone would casually toss at another person. The waitress dared not say another word and quickly turned away.

Su Qingli looked at Jiang Hao, a touch of distress in her voice. "I didn't expect you to throw money at him like that... that was ten thousand yuan."

"It’s just ten thousand yuan; it's nothing to worry about," Jiang Hao said with a cheerful smile as he lit the cigarette hanging from his lips. After taking a puff, he added earnestly, "Qingli, you are the daughter of the Su family, yet I find you are truly frugal."

"That’s because I understand the hardship of earning money. It has nothing to do with whether I’m a 'young lady' or not. Besides, I’ve already cut ties with the Su family," she replied seriously.

"But money that needs to be spent should be spent. Sometimes, being too frugal only brings unnecessary inconvenience," Jiang Hao said with gentle sincerity. Su Qingli smiled and nodded.

Their meal soon arrived. Su Qingli had a delicate steak, while Jiang Hao had salmon. Tasting the Western cuisine, Jiang Hao frowned. "I don’t understand why so many people like Western food. I think Chinese food is far superior. This plate of salmon costs hundreds, yet it can't compare to a bowl of braised pork that costs only a few dozen."

Su Qingli burst out laughing at his remark. "Most people eat Western food just for the novelty or to save face," she explained with a chuckle. Jiang Hao nodded in agreement and continued his meal.

Suddenly, the foreigner who had been smoking the cigar rose and walked toward them. He stopped at their table, exhaled a cloud of smoke, tucked his left hand into his pocket, and held the cigar in his right. Looking at Su Qingli with an air of self-importance, he asked, "Beautiful lady, may I join you for dinner?"

His broken Mandarin made Su Qingli’s skin crawl, but what disgusted her more was the man’s audacity. Was he blind? Could he not see she was dining with someone else?

"I am married," Su Qingli said, frowning slightly.

"What a pity, miss. But I must say, this man is truly unworthy of you. A beauty such as yourself should be with an exceptional man like me," the foreigner said, his tone dripping with arrogance and disdain.

Jiang Hao set down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and turned to face the man. "You think you’re exceptional?" he asked calmly.

"Yes, I am exceptional—at least, I am better than you." The foreigner tilted his chin up and reached out to grab Jiang Hao’s shoulder. "Chinese man, you should know that no matter the time, you men of China are nothing but cowardly 'sick men'."

"Sick men?" A flame of rage ignited in Jiang Hao’s heart.

With lightning speed, he reached out and seized the foreigner’s wrist. The man’s face twisted in agony, and his cigar dropped to the floor. He let out a shriek of pain, as if his arm had been clamped in the jaws of a tiger. No matter how he screamed or struggled, he could not break free from Jiang Hao’s grip.

"It seems you aren't even as good as this 'sick man'," Jiang Hao said with a smile.

The other patrons in the restaurant were startled, but the foreigners were the ones unsettled. The locals in the room felt no fear; instead, they watched Jiang Hao with growing interest. The waitress and the manager were so pale with fright that they dared not approach.

Ignoring them, Jiang Hao forced the foreigner to his knees. "You called me a 'sick man,' but now you can't even hold your own against me. Doesn't that make you worse than a 'sick man'? Or perhaps, you are the true 'sick man'—a 'Western European sick man'?"

The foreigner’s face was filled with humiliation and rage, but the crushing pain in his wrist left him unable to resist. He couldn't hold out for long before begging for mercy. "I... I was wrong... I am a Western European sick man... I am a Western European sick man..."

Jiang Hao flashed a satisfied smile and released his wrist. "Get out!" he commanded coldly.

The foreigner fled the restaurant as if chased by a ghost, vanishing into the bustling traffic outside without once looking back.