Chapter 5 – How Much?

“You just said you took photos of me ordering piles of takeout, and you’re planning to post them online?”
Jiang Yan asked casually as she flipped open his reporter’s ID, while at the same time pulling out her phone to quickly log into the national journalist database.

She entered his name and press card number in seconds.

Good.

No such person.

Even the anti-counterfeit seal on the card looked crude.

“Yes, but… if Miss Jiang, you could…” The man trailed off, the greed in his eyes so obvious he didn’t even bother to hide it.

Jiang Yan sneered inwardly but kept a calm face, directly asking,
“How much?”

The curly-haired man’s eyes lit up. He chuckled and raised a single finger.

Jiang Yan: “A thousand?”

The man smirked.
“Miss Jiang, with your identity and status, a mere thousand yuan wouldn’t be enough, don’t you think?”

“Ten thousand?!” Jiang Yan widened her eyes in feigned shock for a second.

Seeing her reaction, Curly felt a rush of joy.

As expected—she was no different from those small influencers he had blackmailed before. None of them could withstand pressure.

This Jiang Yan was rumored to be worth tens of billions. Asking for a million from her would probably be nothing more than pocket change.

But for now, he might as well start with a hundred thousand.

He still had the photo saved as leverage. With a cash cow like this, there would be endless opportunities to extort money in the future.

Thinking of that, he gritted his teeth and named his price:
“One hundred thousand!”

Jiang Yan sneered inwardly:
One hundred thousand for a random photo you made up? Do you think I’m stupid—or really stupid?

Yes, she had money. But it wasn’t blown in by the wind.

Most importantly, she was facing a shameless scammer who had no sense of law or morals.

“What?! A hundred thousand?! So you’re saying I need to pay a hundred thousand to buy the photos you secretly took?” Jiang Yan deliberately raised her voice.

Curly could barely contain his excitement. He straightened his back and nodded solemnly, though his sleazy grin betrayed him.
“Yes!”

He was just about to add that he only took cash when he suddenly heard rapid footsteps approaching.

Turning his head, he saw the security captain leading two policemen and several guards running toward them.

“Stop right there!!”
“Stop!!”

Startled, Curly spun around and bolted.

But Jiang Yan swiftly raised her leg and swept it across his ankles.

Thud!

Catching him completely off guard, he fell face-first to the ground.

Moments later, the police and guards had him pinned with ease.

The statement was quickly taken on-site, and the fake reporter was arrested for extortion and fraud.

Jiang Yan’s home cameras had built-in audio recording, so all the evidence was preserved.

Using a counterfeit press card to extort over ten thousand yuan—he was looking at ten years in prison at least.

Though another scumbag was off the streets, Jiang Yan felt no satisfaction.

The fact that this man rented the neighboring house just to stalk her was unsettling enough.

What about the others with bad intentions?

Clearly, she couldn’t afford to delay selling and buying property any longer.

After closing the door, Jiang Yan sat on the sofa for a moment in thought. Then she pulled up the contact list and dialed the real estate agency that used to help her mother handle properties.

The company owner was Du Zitong. His name sounded a little funny, but his work was solid.

Before opening the agency, he had worked for many years at her mother’s company as head of distribution. His work ethic and character were both excellent.

After her mother sold the company, he didn’t stay with the new owners. Instead, he led a group of delivery staff to start his own real estate agency.

By Jiang Yan’s standards, he was one of the few people she could actually trust.

“Miss Jiang!” Du Zitong sounded thrilled to get her call.

Jiang Yan gave a helpless laugh.
“Don’t call me ‘Miss Jiang.’ My head’s pounding.”

He instantly realized his mistake.
“Ah—Sister Yan, my condolences. Is there something I can help you with? Hold on, let me step back into the office—it’s more private there.”

Jiang Yan got straight to the point. She briefly explained her need to sell her current villa, buy a new apartment, and find a warehouse.

Her requirements for the new apartment:

• The complex couldn’t be too big—two or three buildings at most was ideal.
  (When disasters struck later, too many residents meant too many problems.)
• It had to be far from the city center, but still within reach of malls, supermarkets, hospitals, etc.
• No small developers—only major developers, since their construction quality was far more reliable.
• Preferably high-rise buildings, 30 floors or more.
• Only the top floor.
  (Yes, insulation and waterproofing were usually issues, but she intended to renovate anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal.)

As for the warehouse:

• It had to be spacious.
• No surveillance cameras.
• Strongly enclosed.
• Away from the city center, but ideally near a highway or transport hub.
• Best if it could be bought or rented immediately—she didn’t mind paying extra for that.

This was also why she ruled out the half-mountain villa district where Song Deming had lived.

Yes, it was one of the few high-altitude areas in Anming City, safe from floods during the apocalypse.

But that place only brought her painful memories. The remaining residents were large families who had lived there for years—buying in was unrealistic.

And after the floods would come mudslides and landslides. Living halfway up a mountain was too dangerous.

By the time she finished listing her conditions, the pool of suitable apartments and warehouses had shrunk considerably—but also become far more precise.

Du Zitong, though a boss, was always hands-on with business.

After hearing her requests, he already had ideas.
“Sister Yan, I’ll come by later to get the paperwork for the villa so we can put it on the market. As for the high-rise and warehouse—you’re in luck. I actually have a few options right now. When you’re free, I’ll take you to see them myself.”

Jiang Yan didn’t even hesitate.
“Send me the addresses. I’ll go now.”

Du Zitong was stunned.
“Now? Sister Yan, don’t you want to rest a bit, maybe adjust your jet lag?”

After all, the news of her mother’s death had already spread all over Anming City’s media.

On top of that, in this age of social media, Jiang Yan herself was practically a semi-celebrity and influencer—privacy was a luxury she didn’t have.

If the police hadn’t sealed off details about her being locked in a basement that morning, and Song Deming and Zhang Kai’s deaths, just the gossip alone would drown her.

But Jiang Yan pulled a bottle of black coffee from the fridge and said firmly,
“I’m fine. Send me the addresses.”

“Alright, right away, Sister Yan,” Du Zitong replied. He knew better than to push.

Years of business had taught him boundaries—there were things he should never ask.