Huang Qing had just seen what Jiang Cheng did.
Seeing the mclaren's owner unharmed,
he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.
There were so many people on site, plus media invited to film.
The event hadn't even ended smoothly when this happened; he immediately tried to placate him: 'Brother Yao, don't be mad—no injuries is already a blessing.'
When Huang Qing said that, the other man's anger flared hotter: 'Didn't you see the bastard deliberately cut me off?'
Being berated to his face by Lin Yao left Huang Qing inwardly miserable.
Huang Qing had seen exactly what happened—if Lin Yao hadn't provoked him, none of this would have occurred.
Still, Lin Yao had come at his invitation; now that things had blown up, he couldn't simply stand by.
Jiang Cheng had shown him no respect, deliberately smashing Lin Yao's car and ruining the event, and Huang Qing felt publicly humiliated.
Seeing Jiang Cheng walk over, Huang Qing asked stiffly, 'What now?'
Since his rebirth, Jiang Cheng had stuck to the rule: if no one provoked him, he caused no trouble.
But that didn't mean he lacked the arrogance of a Second-generation rich.
After Huang Qing spoke, Jiang Cheng's grin vanished: 'Are you blind or just pretending? Who are you to question me?'
The media and other attendees were already gathering.
Unlike the Second-generation kids enjoying the spectacle, the reporters jostled with cameras for shots.
A collision between luxury cars was a rare sight.
With this footage, the hot search charts were minutes away.
With so many onlookers present,
Jiang Cheng's words left Huang Qing no face at all.
Huang Qing's expression darkened further.
Jiang Cheng's total disregard made Lin Yao's face twist with rage.
He knew this was Shanghai, not the capital.
He'd meant to let Huang Qing handle it,
but the man clearly carried no weight here.
Yet Lin Yao himself had no regard for Jiang Cheng.
Before arriving he'd checked the backgrounds of everyone present.
Apart from Wang Congcong, none deserved his attention.
'Do you even know who I am? You dare cut me off—are you tired of living?'
After ramming Lin Yao, Jiang Cheng's irritation had already drained away.
Calm now, he said icily, 'I don't care what trash you are—if you jump out, be ready to take the hit. If you can't drive straight, stay off the road; stop swerving around like a performing monkey.'
When Jiang Cheng mocked his driving, Lin Yao flushed with fury: 'What did you say? Look at my car! If you don't give me a satisfying answer today, I won't let this go. Don't think I didn't notice—you hit me on purpose. If I'd been in the passenger seat, do you know what that would mean?'
'Didn't think about consequences when you tried to cut me off? We're adults—do we really need to spell this out?'
Lin Yao had staged the whole thing deliberately.
He wanted to act wildly in front of these Second-generation rich kids, provoke them,
then cut them off, a slap to the Shanghai circle.
His goal was simple: hype.
Shanghai had its emperor of shanghai, so he aimed to seize this chance to crown himself the outrageous 'Emperor of Beijing'.
He'd already bribed one of the media reporters on site to shoot photos and video.
Apart from Wang Congcong, he looked down on everyone else present.
And he knew Wang Congcong wouldn't fly to the capital just to slap him down.
At worst he'd get a scolding—so what?
Plenty of people have been cursed out by Wang Congcong.
Even the so-called Four Young Masters of the capital have tasted his insults.
As long as the stunt succeeded and netizens remembered him, a few curses were worth it.
Their families weren't even in the same circle—he had nothing to fear.