101: Chapter 101 Lin Chen's Sharp Tongue, Always Hitting the Nail

Tong Liya said angrily, "Can you not speak properly? I didn't mean to break it on purpose."

"So, 'not on purpose' makes it okay? If I set your house on fire and then said it wasn't on purpose, would you be happy?" The female manager stood with her hands on her hips, spittle flying everywhere.

"I think you must be sick in the head!"

"Let's talk reasonably. Don't come at us like you've eaten gunpowder." Huang Bo's wife, who was standing nearby, couldn't watch anymore and shielded Tong Liya behind her.

"You're the one who's sick! You little vixen, who are you calling sick?" The female manager aimed her hostility directly at Tong Liya, her eyes wide and screaming.

"I'm calling you sick! So what!"

Tong Liya was furious and started arguing back with the female manager right there, drawing the attention of the surrounding diners who peeked over to watch the drama.

Come to think of it, Tong Liya was just having a run of bad luck today.

If it were any other restaurant manager, seeing this group of prominent big shots from the entertainment industry, they would have already been all smiles to smooth things over.

Harmony brings wealth, after all.

But this teahouse was different; the owner was an insider.

The people who usually ate here were either directors or award-winning actors; the waiters were numb to seeing celebrities.

More importantly, this female manager was the teahouse owner's first wife. She was over fifty and right in the thick of menopause.

As luck would have it, her husband was a lecher. Over the years, he had been keeping mistresses behind her back, all of whom were D-list young actresses.

The first wife wasn't exactly a looker to begin with; how could she compare to those fresh, young vixens?

After falling out of favor, her temper became increasingly eccentric and volatile, especially toward beautiful actresses, whom she wished to get rid of immediately.

Unfortunately, Tong Liya had walked right into the line of fire today.

She was young, beautiful, and a popular leading actress—she perfectly triggered all of the female manager's hatred, so it was no surprise she became a target for venting.

"I can't be bothered to argue with a madwoman like you. Name a price, and I'll pay you!"

After a few rounds of insults, Tong Liya really didn't want to argue like a shrew in a place like this, and she certainly didn't want to lose face in front of Lin Chen.

"Pay? Sure! Three million, not a cent less. Pay up now! Anyway, you actresses make money fast; wouldn't you earn it back after spreading your legs a few times?" The female manager crossed her arms, sneering with a malicious face.

Tong Liya trembled with rage, her eyes reddening. "You..."

Just then, Lin Chen reached out, wrapped his arm around Tong Liya's shoulder, pulled her into his embrace, and interrupted her.

The women were arguing too fast, and Lin Chen, still slightly numbed by alcohol, was a bit slow on the uptake.

Now that he had finally come to his senses, how could he watch his woman being bitten by a mad dog?

"You're not qualified. Get someone in charge over here." Lin Chen glanced coldly at the female manager; his voice wasn't loud, but it carried a chill.

The female manager sneered repeatedly. "I am the manager here. How am I not qualified? Who the hell do you think you are, coming here and acting like a big shot!"

"Who I am isn't important, but my eyes are accurate when judging people. Judging by your complexion—sallow, sunken eye sockets, and full of malice—you've been neglected by your husband for several years, right?"

"You think you're so aggrieved, but in reality, the more you act like a mad dog, the more disgusted people are by you."

"Your husband despises you, your children don't want to see you, and your subordinates curse you behind your back. You live like a joke, and if you were to drop dead one day, no one would shed a single tear for you. Do you feel like your life is a complete failure? Too bad, that's just the fate that a shrew like you deserves."

Lin Chen's verbal assault was loaded with barbs, stabbing like a knife straight into the female manager's heart, making her tremble as if she had the chills.

Although it wasn't dignified for a man to argue with a woman in public, Lin Chen didn't care.

Since this woman had become his, Lin Chen would skin anyone who dared to make her feel wronged.

"Husband, you're amazing! How did you know she was abandoned by her husband?"

Tong Liya's anger had completely vanished. She nestled in Lin Chen's arms, her eyes sparkling with adoration.

She really hadn't realized that her usually quiet man could be so vicious when cursing others.

Look at that madwoman; she was already so angry she was rolling her eyes.

"Imbalanced yin and yang, endocrine disorder, written all over her face in four big words: sexually frustrated. If she wasn't dumped by her man, what is she?"

"Then how did you know her children and employees are also annoyed by her?"

"Advanced menopausal syndrome, combined with years of being a widow in all but name—she bites whoever she catches. Even ghosts wouldn't want to deal with such a twisted, perverted person."

The young couple chimed in one after another, each sentence landing precisely on the female manager's sore spots.

The female manager finally couldn't take it anymore; her mental defenses completely collapsed. She sat down on the floor and began to wail like a shrewish village woman.

The highest level of insulting someone isn't about who uses the dirtiest words, but about hitting them exactly where it hurts.

It's the same principle as calling a monk a 'bald thief' to his face; the lethality is off the charts.

The female manager usually threw her weight around, but now she was crying her heart out, and not a single waiter nearby stepped forward to help her up.

Guo Degang, Huang Bo, and the others all looked at Lin Chen with extremely complex expressions.

This kid is too vicious!

Without using a single dirty word, he just casually said a few sentences and drove someone to a mental breakdown.

With this kind of silver tongue, it's a pity he doesn't perform Crosstalk.

"What is going on! Screaming and shouting—is there any decorum left!"

Accompanied by an angry shout, two middle-aged men walked in from outside the main door.

The one walking in front was none other than the teahouse's behind-the-scenes boss, Zhang You.

He was exactly sixty years old and could be considered one of the first generation of Beijing's 'old guard' rich second generations.

Relying on the commercial properties left by his family on several streets, he was filthy rich just from collecting rent.

When he was young, he messed around with a lot of things: he filmed movies, worked as a director, and even played rock and roll.

Although he didn't make a name for himself in anything, he was considered an insider.

Everyone appreciated his generosity and hospitality, and whenever they met him, they respectfully called him Teacher Zhang.

Seeing the man in charge arrive, Guo Degang stood up. "Old Zhang, we are all friends in the industry. Your wife's performance today is a bit unsightly."

Guo Degang was a regular here and had a close relationship with Zhang You.

But his words were clearly siding with Lin Chen; after all, anyone with eyes could see that it was Zhang You's wife who was making a scene and using the situation to vent.

Zhang You ignored Guo Degang completely and didn't even glance at his wife, who was still making a scene on the floor.

He rushed over in two or three steps to the torn piece of Calligraphy, slapping his thigh in distress, his face as dark as the bottom of a pot.

"This is Master Han's final masterpiece!"

Zhang You looked pained, then suddenly turned to the middle-aged man accompanying him and bowed repeatedly. "Teacher Han, I am truly sorry! I apologize to you!"

After apologizing, Zhang You turned his head to look at Guo Degang, his tone stiff. "Teacher Guo, it's not that I'm not giving you face today, but other matters are negotiable—except for this. This is an authentic work by the contemporary Calligraphy master, Han Meilin. You tell me, how should this be settled?"

Han Meilin?

Hearing this name, everyone present turned their gaze toward the middle-aged man standing next to Zhang You, their expressions shifting slightly.

Han Meilin might not be well-known among ordinary people, but he was extremely famous within the industry.

He was one of the top contemporary artists in the country; the globally renowned Olympic mascot, the Fuwa, was created by him.

If the piece that was torn was his work, then asking for three million really wasn't an exorbitant demand.

In the world of Calligraphy and painting, once you make a name for yourself, your work is like a money-printing machine.

Although it's not like just scribbling two lines makes it worth millions—and famous artists usually control the number of works flowing into the market to prevent devaluation—as long as it's a legitimate piece hung up for display, it is absolutely solid currency.

This matter had become tricky.

If it were just a broken vase or a kicked-over chair, everyone could say a few nice words, give each other a way out, and move on.

But this was an authentic piece worth millions!

Could this be smoothed over just with a few nice words and some social standing?

"So it is Teacher Han himself; my apologies. This matter was purely accidental; Lin Chen's wife didn't mean it. Could you look at this Calligraphy and see if it can be restored by an expert?"

Guo Degang still adhered to the rules of the industry and stepped forward to try to smooth things over.

Huang Bo also chimed in. "If it really comes to that, we'll chip in to pay for it. It's not a problem."

Han Meilin sighed but didn't say anything.

Zhang You's expression grew even darker. "This isn't about money! Do I, Zhang, lack those three million? But this is Teacher Han's Calligraphy! This is art!"

Huang Bo pulled the corners of his mouth into a fake smile. "Then there must be a way forward, right? Surely you don't want to chop off Yaya's hand because of a piece of Calligraphy?"

Lin Chen, who had been silent the whole time, suddenly spoke up. "Do you have brush, ink, paper, and an inkstone?"

Everyone was stunned and looked at him in unison.

Zhang You frowned, his face cold, and didn't respond.

Lin Chen said indifferently, "My wife accidentally broke one of your pieces of Calligraphy, so I'll just return one to you."

Zhang You was stunned at first, then let out a sneer filled with mockery. "Kid, you've got a big mouth! Can your Calligraphy compare to Teacher Han's? Are you playing me for a fool?"

Zhang You was already holding a grudge against Lin Chen's group, and he detested Lin Chen to the extreme.

Even if his first wife was old, withered, and unlikable, she was still his official wife.

You, an outsider, pointed at her nose and cursed her until she wailed in front of everyone, and you publicly exposed his Zhang family's private matters, revealing the mess in his own backyard.

It would be a miracle if Zhang You gave Lin Chen a pleasant look.

"My Calligraphy certainly cannot compare to that piece—that piece was just average. Bring the brush and ink; today I'll let you see what real Calligraphy is." Lin Chen seemed completely oblivious to Zhang You's sarcasm, his tone calm and sincere.

But to everyone else's ears, those words were arrogant to the extreme!

Fine, let's see what kind of scribbles you can come up with today!

Zhang You darkened his face and waved his hand at a few male waiters.

He was determined today to make this sponging madman humiliate himself in public; no one's plea would work!