Chapter 321: The Protagonist Comes Bearing Money

In a shabby old house, the morning light crept through slanted blinds. Fang Xuan just finished freshening up and was about to head off for work when her younger brother, Fang Heng, stopped her at the door.

“Sis, I’m out of gas. Give me some money,” he said, hand outstretched without a shred of shame.

Fang Xuan frowned. “Can’t you just sell that Lamborghini? You’re refueling every couple of days. It’s burning cash like crazy.”

“It’s got a huge engine—burns more gas than your average car,” Fang Heng defended, waving it off like it was no big deal. “It’s just some gas money. Come on, hand it over. I’ve got plans today.”

Her brows furrowed deeper. “You’re not a kid anymore. Can you stop playing around all day and do something meaningful with your life?”

Fang Heng rolled his eyes. “What do you mean, I’m not doing anything? Didn’t I bring back a bunch of priceless antiques?”

That touched a nerve. Just hearing about those antiques made Fang Xuan’s head hurt. But she had no time to argue—she was already running late.

“I’m going to work. We’ll talk later.” She tried to sidestep him, but Fang Heng blocked her path again.

“Sister, just a million. That’s all I’m asking for this time.”

Fang Xuan was about to explode. “You think I’m some kind of billionaire? A million just like that—for gas?”

“Well, aren’t you?” he grinned cheekily. “The antiques I sold brought in over a billion. It’s all with you. I’m just asking for a chunk now so I don’t have to keep pestering you later.”

Fang Xuan massaged her temples, feeling a migraine coming on. Those so-called antiques were all fakes, planted by Wang Haoran as part of a long con. The sale proceeds had been wired to her only so she could send them back to him.

How was she supposed to explain that?

In the end, she gave a perfunctory answer. “That money’s off-limits. It’s for your future wedding expenses.”

“Who needs that much just to get married?” Fang Heng scoffed. “Sister, come on. Stop messing around. Just give me the money. I’ve got a class reunion, and I can’t show up empty-handed.”

With a sigh of resignation, Fang Xuan relented. “Fine. I’ll transfer you fifty thousand.”

Her salary used to be around thirty grand, but ever since getting involved with Wang Haoran, it had jumped to a hundred thousand a month. Fifty thousand—while painful—was still manageable.

She pulled out her phone and transferred the funds.

As the confirmation screen disappeared, an all-too-familiar face flashed through her mind.

It had been so long since he’d reached out. Perhaps… he’d already forgotten about her?

Fang Xuan felt a dull ache in her chest. Truthfully, she couldn’t blame him. When they were together, she had been awkward, clumsy, never knowing how to please him. Not even as good as that little girl, Wen Jing.

“Fifty thousand? That’s not nearly enough!” Fang Heng whined, dragging her out of her thoughts.

“That’s all you’re getting,” she snapped, her mood turning sour.

“Are you kidding me? You’re sitting on over a billion, and you can’t spare a million?” Fang Heng was losing patience.

He bragged in his class group chat about treating dozens of people to dinner at a luxury hotel. Without at least a few hundred thousand, he couldn’t cover the tab.

Fang Xuan didn’t want to reveal the truth, so she made something up. “I gave it to my boyfriend. He’s using it to start a business.”

Fang Heng blinked in shock. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Do I need your permission to date?” she snapped back.

“But… you gave him everything? All ten billion?” Fang Heng’s voice rose in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“You’re insane!” he yelled, jumping in rage. “That was my money! You didn’t even ask—just handed it all over to your boyfriend? Do you even see me as your brother anymore? You don’t deserve to be my sister!”

“You’re one to talk!” Fang Xuan shouted back, pointing furiously at the Lamborghini parked outside. “You drive that beast around every day, showing off. Do you even know where that car came from?”

“Of course I do. I earned it,” he replied without a trace of guilt.

Fang Xuan let out a cold laugh. Earned it? She wanted to scream that she sold her own dignity for that car—but the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. Not even now.

Without another word, she shoved past him and walked out, never once looking back, even as Fang Heng yelled after her.

Within minutes, she disappeared from sight.

Left standing alone, Fang Heng stomped his foot in frustration. His sister was hopeless. How could she just hand all that money to some guy?

【Ding. Host has destabilized protagonist Fang Heng’s mental state. Gained 300 Villain Points. Fang Heng’s Protagonist Halo -15. Host’s Villain Halo +15!】

【Ding. Fang Heng’s Protagonist Halo has fallen below 50. Golden Finger deactivated.】

Inside a lecture hall, Wang Haoran’s eyes flicked toward his phone as the system notifications popped up.

Fang Heng, huh… it had been a while since he last thought about that protagonist. Honestly, if not for the sudden surge in rewards, he might’ve forgotten the guy existed.

But the paltry gains Fang Heng offered didn’t excite him anymore.

They were just too meager.

Just then, a message arrived.

“I’ve got a batch of antiques to sell. You free?”

Wang Haoran glanced at the screen, lips curling in amusement.

“Six in the evening,” he replied immediately.

Fang Heng’s Golden Finger was gone—no more free rides after this. This would be the final harvest.

He was a little curious, though. After all this time, how many ‘fake antiques’ did Fang Heng manage to hoard?

“Alright. I’ll swing by with the car. But I’m warning you now—bring plenty of cash,” Fang Heng messaged back.

“Don’t worry. Money’s not a problem,” Wang Haoran responded coolly.

Later that evening, Fang Heng pulled up in his flashy Lamborghini outside Qingling University. The growl of the engine drew countless stares, and whispers of envy followed in his wake.

He basked in the attention, nose practically pointing at the sky.

Wang Haoran arrived just in time to witness the scene, and he smiled faintly.

This would probably be Fang Heng’s last grand performance.

“Yo, you’re here! Hop in,” Fang Heng waved him over.

Wang Haoran slid into the passenger seat without a word, and the two of them drove off toward Fang Heng’s home.

The antiques were all stored in the basement of the old house.

As soon as Wang Haoran stepped inside, he was greeted by rows of vases, jars, and stacks of rolled-up scrolls and paintings, all meticulously arranged.

“This many?” he raised a brow in mock surprise.

“What? Can’t afford them?” Fang Heng sneered.

Wang Haoran merely smiled. “I’ll take it all.”

Fang Heng’s smug grin widened. “I had them appraised—worth just over twenty billion. But since you’re a regular, I’ll cut the change. Twenty billion flat.”

He paused, then added seriously, “But this time, the money doesn’t go to my sister. It goes straight to me.”

“No problem. But I need to make a quick call first,” Wang Haoran replied.

“Calling someone to verify the goods, huh? Fine, but make it quick. I’ve got places to be,” Fang Heng said, a little impatient.

He had plans tonight—to show off at that class reunion. If he could sell these antiques to Wang Haoran fast enough, he’d have the cash to make a proper entrance.

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