Chapter 517: Extortion? Why Should He Get a Cent?

Even as everyone in the restaurant turned against him, the man showed not the slightest hint of panic. On the contrary, his face was brimming with smug satisfaction. He looked around with a face that practically said: What are you gonna do about it?

Then, dramatically raising both hands as if conducting a crowd, he encouraged the rising anger in the room.

“Go on, keep shouting! The more noise, the worse it is for you, boss lady.”

As he spoke, he glanced toward the restaurant’s entrance.

Customers were still coming in sporadically. It was a three-story place, after all, with plenty of seating. But the ruckus inside made many hesitate. Some who had just arrived peeked in, shook their heads, and turned away.

They had come for a meal, not a scene. Who knew if this would end in a fight? Blood might spill, and innocent people could get dragged in.

This kind of thing happened far too often in this part of town.

The owner, watching the scene unfold, grew more anxious and helpless by the second.

At that moment, a man in a chef’s uniform stepped out from the kitchen. He wore a tall chef’s hat and held a spatula in one hand. He was clearly in the middle of cooking.

The moment he saw the man causing the scene, his whole body shook with fury.

“You again?!”

The one shouting was the restaurant owner himself.

To save on staffing costs, he also worked as the head chef and usually handled procurement too.

“Honey, don’t lose your temper!” the boss lady quickly stepped in, her face full of worry.

“What, I can’t even say your seafood’s not fresh now?” the man sneered. “My stomach hurts. If you don’t take me to the hospital yourself, I’ll report you for food safety violations. I don’t want one of your employees taking me. You go. If not, I’m calling the police.”

The man only got more brazen when he saw the boss come out. And the reason he said all this was simple: he had them cornered.

Everyone who regularly ate here knew the owner was also the head chef. And with it being dinner rush, if the chef left, the restaurant would have to shut down temporarily.

If this shameless man kept pestering them for another two or three days, the losses would pile up.

But if they refused to go with him, and he made good on his threat to call the police? That would mean a month-long suspension for inspections; that was a far greater blow.

In an instant, this man had all the leverage: timing, location, and public pressure.

The surrounding diners were seething. A few younger men looked like they might leap over and start swinging.

“You—you’ve gone too far! Xin Delai, if you’re hungry, I’ll feed you. Hell, I’ll even give you cigarettes. But this? This is the fourth time you’ve pulled this crap. You know what our situation is. If you push me too far, I’ll shut this place down and drag you into court with a lawyer.”

The owner was livid, shouting at the top of his lungs. The boss lady clung to his arm, eyes rimmed red and brimming with tears.

She was nearly crying from frustration.

Seeing the owner finally blow up, the man just shrugged casually, like he was doing everyone a favor.

“Fine, then. I won’t press charges. Just give me five hundred. Five hundred and I walk. I promise I’m not coming here anymore, no more eating your food.”

He made the vow as if he were showing mercy.

“Shameless! Absolutely shameless!”

“Just give him the five hundred and get it over with. Some people are just rotten. Nothing you can do.”

“I wish the cops would just arrest him already. The owners are too soft, that’s the problem.”

“What else can they do? They’re just trying to keep the peace.”

People all around were shaking their heads in helpless frustration.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give it to you! Just please, don’t come back again!”

Tears finally spilled down the boss lady’s cheeks, dripping off her chin as she fumbled in her pocket. She pulled out a wad of wrinkled bills—mostly tens and twenties, with only a couple of hundreds mixed in.

Her hands were trembling. The whole image was one of utter helplessness.

The servers nearby were biting their lips in anger. The owner’s face had gone pale with rage, his eyes screaming for vengeance.

But there was nothing they could do.

They were the weaker party.

They had no choice but to swallow this injustice.

Because this bastard had them in a vice, he knew they wouldn’t risk a police report. They needed the money desperately to treat a loved one’s illness.

“I only have four hundred and thirty here. Wait, I’ll go to the counter for the other seventy…”

Choking back sobs, she extended the cash toward him with a trembling hand.

Just as he reached out to take it, a pale hand reached out and pressed gently but firmly on hers.

“That money… why should he get it?”

A cold, quiet voice rang out—calm, but full of chilling authority. Everyone turned toward the sudden speaker.

Xiao Gang, upon hearing his boss’s voice, finally snapped out of his daze and hurried over.

“Eh?”

The owner looked up and immediately recognized Wang Yun.

The seafood had just been bought from him that morning—what a coincidence to run into him again. He’d even asked for a business card, but Wang Yun hadn’t given one.

Wang Yun gave him a subtle smile, then blinked, signaling him to stay quiet.

Then he turned, eyes dark and cold, and looked directly at the man.

“Mr. Xin Delai, is it? I’m with the Food Safety Authority. The oysters in front of you were inspected this morning. They are fresh. Can you provide proof for your claim that they are not?”

His voice was calm, but his presence was overwhelming.

Huh?

Food Safety Authority?