Old Nine looked troubled.
"Young Master An, I really don't have that much money."
An Dongyang didn't believe him. "Old Nine, you've been running the black market for years. You must have made a killing. Just front me the money to get me through this emergency. How about this? I promise that if you help me handle this, I'll definitely put in a good word for you with my father."
"Don't you want the market that Lu Yuanbin controls? I'll help you get it back."
The offer greatly tempted Old Nine, but 1,500 yuan was no small sum for him either.
"Young Master An, 1,500 yuan is not a small amount. I really don't have it. But... I have another way."
Of vice, gambling, and drugs, the most profitable wasn't gambling—it was drugs.
With that stuff, one small bag would easily fetch 1,500 yuan.
An Dongyang immediately breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Old Nine had a plan.
But Old Nine wasn't finished.
"However, this matter will require your help, Young Master An."
