Chapter Twenty: The Poor

“What do you mean by that? Are you threatening to hit a customer who came here to dine?” Lu Hao’s face instantly darkened, and he nearly lost control, wishing he could slap the waiter then and there.

“With someone like you, do you really think you can afford to eat here?” The waiter sneered, looking Lu Hao up and down. “Stop daydreaming and get out of here, don’t waste my time with your business, you pauper.”

These days, who’s the easiest to bully if not the poor? After all, he had the powerful Arabian Restaurant behind him, and the real boss behind this establishment was Song Group.

And what sort of company was Song Group? On a national scale, they were on par with the biggest conglomerates in any city.

The waiter looked as though he was about to step forward and shove Lu Hao.

Lu Hao, too, had reached the end of his patience.

“To think they’d choose someone like you to man the door—what were they thinking?” Lu Hao pointed at him, and with a sudden motion, pressed a needle into the waiter’s foot.

At once, the waiter seemed to trip over something invisible. “Ow!”

He lost his balance and fell heavily to the ground, his face turning a mottled shade of blue and purple, several teeth knocked out in the process.

Given that this waiter relied on his looks to make a living, he would be out of work for at least a week.

“You bastard! You’re finished!” The waiter blamed Lu Hao entirely for his fall—a classic case of the “kick the cat” effect, venting one’s anger on the weakest target.

“What’s going on? Lu Hao, why aren’t you coming in yet?” At that moment, Zhang Qingfan pushed open the door and stepped out.

Lu Hao brushed the dust from his clothes and said, “This doorman here insists I can’t afford to eat here, calls me a pauper—what can I do?”

Hearing this, Zhang Qingfan’s face darkened with anger. She strode over and seized the waiter by the collar. “What’s your problem?”

“This is my friend. Why did you try to stop him?”

The waiter was stunned. “Miss Zhang, I—I didn’t know he was your friend.”

He was completely thrown off. As a waiter at the Arabian Restaurant, not only did he have to greet guests at the door, but he was also expected to recognize and know the background of every regular patron.

For these “distinguished guests,” the restaurant kept detailed files and conducted background research, all to provide better service.

Naturally, the waiter recognized Zhang Qingfan as a “wealthy heiress.”

“That’s enough, spare me your explanations. Wait for your manager to deal with you.” With that, Zhang Qingfan memorized the waiter’s face and immediately dialed the manager.

Soon, a tall man in a black uniform appeared at the entrance—Manager Wang of the Arabian Restaurant.

Upon seeing Zhang Qingfan, a familiar face, he immediately put on an apologetic smile. He had already learned of the incident at the door from her call.

“Miss Zhang, we didn’t know he was your friend. How about this: today’s meal is sixty percent off, plus two complimentary bottles of red wine on the house. We’ll keep them here for you to pick up at any time. How does that sound?”

Zhang Qingfan gave a cold laugh. “You think your waiter can insult my honored guest, and two bottles of wine will settle the matter?”

Manager Wang considered her expression and immediately grasped the situation.

Zhang Qingfan was clearly not going to let this go easily.

But Manager Wang also knew that Zhang Qiang—the waiter—was the illegitimate son of the general manager. That was the only reason a tattooed thug who hadn’t even finished junior high could be a waiter at the Song Group’s Arabian Restaurant—thanks to his well-placed father.

If he punished Zhang Qiang over a customer’s complaint, it would not be in his own best interest. The client might be satisfied, but his boss certainly wouldn’t be.

With that in mind, Manager Wang said, “Well…Miss Zhang, what do you think would be an appropriate resolution?”

A frosty look crossed Zhang Qingfan’s face. “Have him apologize to my friend.”

Manager Wang nodded—this seemed feasible—and turned his gaze to Zhang Qiang.

In a low voice, he said, “Zhang Qiang, apologize to this customer at once. Otherwise, business will suffer for the Arabian Restaurant.”

Zhang Qiang’s temper flared; with a freshly broken front tooth and his body aching, he was in no mood to apologize to Lu Hao. In his mind, that was out of the question.

“Manager Wang, what’s there to apologize for?” he grumbled, casting a venomous look at Lu Hao.

As the saying goes, anger is a demon—when a man is riled up, there’s no room for compromise.

He was completely stuck in his own stubbornness.

“Hurry up and apologize—I’m running out of patience!” Manager Wang scowled, used to intimidating his subordinates into obedience.

But to his surprise, Zhang Qiang seemed possessed today; perhaps blood loss and pain had brought out his rebellious streak.

“You’ve got guts, kid.” Manager Wang gritted his teeth, but there was little he could do.

So he turned to the two guests, wearing a conciliatory smile. “My apologies—the boy’s in a bad mood today. Allow me to apologize on his behalf.”

“I’m truly sorry. To make up for our shortcomings today, I’ll give you a fifty percent discount on your meal, plus a complimentary bottle of red wine and a fresh Australian lobster. Would that be acceptable?”

Zhang Qingfan was about to respond, but Lu Hao tugged her sleeve, signaling her to let it go.

“There’s no need,” Lu Hao shook his head. “He’s learned his lesson today—blowing this out of proportion won’t benefit you either.”

After all, he’d already knocked out one of Zhang Qiang’s teeth and skinned a good patch off his forehead, and it was likely that Zhang Qiang’s professional life wouldn’t be so smooth from now on.

“Alright, you’re the teacher—you decide. Let’s go inside.” Zhang Qingfan nodded and led the way.

The two of them walked in together.

“Damn it, that pauper—who knows how he managed to get close to Miss Zhang. Unbelievable,” Zhang Qiang muttered through clenched teeth. “He doesn’t even look as good as those six-foot-something male models. Why would Miss Zhang fancy him?”

“Enough, shut your mouth,” Manager Wang snapped.

Just then, he noticed something had fallen from Lu Hao’s pocket.

He hurried after them, picked it up, and realized it was a golden card—a Song Group Super VIP Gold Card.

What’s more, Lu Hao’s name was inscribed on it in special ink, signed personally by Song Xueqi.

“What? He’s actually a Song Group Super VIP?” Manager Wang’s face turned as white as a sheet.