Carrying a Jurassic on me
Chapter 1687 - 800: My Interest Rate is a Bit High

Chapter 1687: Chapter 800: My Interest Rate is a Bit High

What the hell?

The moment Anderson heard the voice, his shock was beyond description. Especially now, as he was already feeling anxious about Abe’s disappearance.

Even though he couldn’t clearly remember Yan Fei’s voice, he was well aware of the things he had done.

So perhaps out of fright, he staggered, toppled onto the sofa, and then slowly slid down to the floor along its edge.

After that, he got up from the floor as if it was all part of the plan, now with a handgun he had pulled from underneath the sofa. One knee on the ground, he placed both hands holding the gun on the small coffee table, pointing the silenced muzzle toward the direction where the voice had come from.

"Quick reflexes, and pretty good acting too. Done so many shady things, no wonder you can’t sleep peacefully. Hiding a gun under the sofa, huh!" Yan Fei sat on the single-seater sofa opposite Anderson, grinning as he spoke. "You should know why I’m here. Now, you have five minutes to give me an explanation. Otherwise, I’ll have to give you one."

At the moment, Boss Yan’s outfit was rather casual: just a pair of beach shorts and flip-flops, not even bothering with a shirt before showing up.

This outfit, paired with the "five minutes" ultimatum, really wasn’t intimidating. Especially for Anderson, Yan Fei’s appearance undoubtedly made him feel more relaxed. It was obvious from such attire that the chances of Yan Fei being armed were slim.

"How did you find me here?" Anderson slowly stood up from behind the small round coffee table after getting a good look at Yan Fei.

"I’ve come for the thing you promised me." Yan Fei flashed a smile. "Look, I flew over here myself—you should be grateful I saved you some shipping costs."

"Did you come alone?" Anderson sat back on the sofa, keeping the gun trained on him.

"Yeah!" Yan Fei nodded wistfully. "The journey was long, and besides, this isn’t the kind of business that can be discussed in front of others..."

"Good." Before Yan Fei could finish his sentence, Anderson interrupted him. Simultaneously, his finger on the trigger squeezed without hesitation.

The silenced handgun issued several soft popping sounds, and the bullets flew out just as he imagined. However, in the next instant, he was once again muttering "What the hell" under his breath while glancing at his firearm. He then ejected the magazine and inspected the bullets...

Yan Fei couldn’t be bothered to watch his theatrics. He opened his palm and revealed four bullets: "Feeling confident in your shooting skills? Thought you’d kill me with just these four rounds?"

Anderson’s voice wavered with obvious panic: "Who the hell are you? How did you..."

"You don’t know who I am? Was the money I gave you fake?"

"You..." Anderson’s panic, whether genuine or feigned, was undeniable—but the bullets fired this time were undoubtedly real. And this time, he’d abandoned all confidence, emptying the magazine entirely.

"Let’s keep the noise down, shall we?" Yan Fei casually caught the bullets mid-air and softly reminded him, "Your wife and three kids are upstairs, and there are two bodyguards outside. You don’t want to alert them, do you? Now tell me, is the thing I came for ready? If it’s ready, hand it over. If not, I hope you’ve prepared a sufficiently convincing reason."

"I..." Clearly, Anderson was completely at a loss over this utterly irrational situation.

He was reasonably confident in his marksmanship given the short distance between them. That’s why during his first attempt, he’d only used four bullets to ensure precision. In his mind, two would hit Yan Fei’s head and two would strike the chest or heart—there was no chance he’d miss.

The second time, he fired every round at Yan Fei’s chest, considering a larger target area.

But the result was something entirely unexpected.

Yan Fei played with the bullets in his hand like they were toy marbles: "Your gun’s useless. If you had a sniper rifle, maybe I’d have to dodge a little. Now, you’ve got four minutes left."

Anderson stared incredulously at the bullet heads that felt like putty in Yan Fei’s hand, unable to shake the suspicion that he must be dreaming.

Although what he saw defied all logic, Anderson was too seasoned to simply sit and wait to be slaughtered. Had this been somewhere else, he might’ve had countless contingency plans. Perhaps none of them would work, but at least he’d have options. However, at this moment, his wife and three youngest kids were just upstairs...

On the grassland, a newly ascended lion king might mercilessly slaughter the offspring of his predecessor to secure his mating rights, but he wouldn’t harm his own cubs. In the face of life-and-death threats, though, he might abandon his pride—his mate and cubs—and flee alone for survival.

Humans, however, are different from lions. Faced with deadly threats, humans wouldn’t behave this way.

At least, most humans wouldn’t.

Anderson might not be a good person, but in this situation, where negotiations were still possible, he couldn’t bring himself to act in ways that might harm the children upstairs.

"What do you want?" After a moment of silence, Anderson finally spoke. "The certificate—it’s tricky, you know. Our food safety regulations here are extremely stringent..."

"Stop spouting nonsense." Yan Fei replied, switching to English, even though it sounded awkward coming from him. He didn’t care whether Anderson understood. "Cut the crap. You’ve got three minutes left."