The Civic sold the next day.
The buyer was a college kid who'd just gotten his license, dad in tow. The two of them circled the car twice. The kid was practically bouncing — the silver Civic did look sharp, and Su Qing's cherry blossom photos made it look showroom-fresh.
"Twenty-six thousand?" the dad asked.
"Twenty-six thousand," Zhang Lei said. "You're welcome to get any third-party inspection. If they find a problem, full refund."
He'd added that line after the Mazda 6 sale — "feel free to get it inspected." He knew his cars had no issues. The line only built trust. Zero risk.
Father and son huddled for five minutes. "How about twenty-five?"
"Twenty-five thousand five hundred."
"Deal."
Transfer of ownership. Payment received. Subtract eighteen thousand purchase price, one fifty for the rim, two hundred for transfer fees — net profit: six thousand six hundred fifty yuan.
Plus the gray Corolla still listed at twenty-eight thousand, bought for twenty-one. When that sold, another seven thousand in profit.
Zhang Lei stood outside the vehicle registration office staring at the deposit notification on his phone. Sunlight bounced off the screen; he cupped his hand over it to read the numbers clearly.
Then he headed for the trading market.
The Saturday afternoon private-seller section still had stragglers — some sellers hung around until five before packing up. Zhang Lei figured he'd do one more sweep for his next target.
Walking in, he noticed something.
On the east side near the exit — the premium spots — a row of a dozen cars sat under matching white signs reading "Chen Family Motors." They were lined up perfectly, each with an acrylic price stand out front, some sporting green "INSPECTED" stickers.
The Chen family. The biggest used car operation in the city.
Zhang Lei had known the name since his days at the dealership. Wang Defa mentioned them constantly — sometimes fawning ("Boss Chen, save one for me next time"), sometimes bitter ("Chens eat the meat, we drink the broth"). In Binjiang City's used car world, the Chen family sat at the top of the pyramid — controlling the best sourcing channels, direct relationships with auction houses, their own reconditioning center.
As Zhang Lei passed their row, he activated his vision for three seconds. Pure curiosity.
Interesting. Nine of the twelve cars were clean — no issues whatsoever. But three of them — one had a rolled-back odometer, thirty thousand kilometers shaved off. One had a minor transmission oil leak that had been patched over. One was a repaired accident car with bodywork so clean it was invisible to the naked eye.
Zhang Lei didn't linger. He kept walking deeper into the market, toward the private-seller section where his targets lived.
At the fourth row, he stopped.
A dark green Audi A6. 2018 model. Listed at thirty-five thousand. The exterior was rough — paint oxidized in several spots, faded to a chalky white. Minor dent on the front bumper. Most people would take one look at that tired appearance and walk away. Who'd spend thirty-five grand on an Audi that looked half-dead?
But Zhang Lei activated his vision.
Three seconds.
Chassis — pristine. Not a single weld mark. Engine — 2.0T turbocharged, cylinder block intact, all components running clean. Transmission — seven-speed dual-clutch, housing smooth and undamaged. All four suspension assemblies — factory original, never replaced.
The mechanical condition of this car was nearly new. It just looked bad — paint oxidation and minor scrapes made it appear "old." But underneath, everything was close to perfect.
Zhang Lei checked the mileage — forty-eight thousand kilometers. For an eight-year-old Audi A6, that meant it had sat idle most of its life. Probably some boss's backup car.
Buy at thirty-five. Spend three thousand on a full polish, wax, and bumper repair — the exterior would look brand new. Then list at fifty to fifty-five thousand.
Profit margin: twelve to seventeen thousand yuan.
His heart rate kicked up. This was the biggest deal yet.
He was about to go find the owner to negotiate when — footsteps approached from behind.
"You looking at this one too?"
A voice from over his shoulder. Zhang Lei turned — a man in his early thirties, gray polo shirt, cigarette pinched between his fingers. His gaze swept Zhang Lei's face, then settled on the dark green Audi.
"And you are?" Zhang Lei asked.
"Chen family." The man smiled. "Name's Xiao Chen. We've got our eye on this one too. About to go talk to the owner."
Zhang Lei studied him for a moment. Someone from the Chens — in this market, when the Chen family claimed a car, everyone else backed off.
He turned and walked away.
But he memorized the license plate and the owner's phone number from the price stand.
The Chens were looking at this car — didn't mean they'd definitely buy it. What if they couldn't agree on a price? What if the owner thought the Chens' offer was too low?
Zhang Lei would wait. Wait for the Chen family's result. If they didn't close — he'd move in.
Riding his e-bike home, he ran the numbers in his head: gray Corolla waiting to sell (bought at twenty-one thousand), Audi A6 target pending (potentially thirty-five thousand to acquire). If both came through — he'd be turning over seventy to eighty thousand yuan in inventory at once.
That scale wasn't "some guy flipping cars" anymore. That was a proper small-time dealer.
As Zhang Lei turned the corner, he instinctively glanced behind him — his e-bike didn't have mirrors. He just looked back.
Across the alley entrance sat a black Buick GL8. Windows tinted dark — couldn't see inside. The van didn't move as he passed.
He stared at it for two seconds longer.
Probably a coincidence.
Or maybe not.
Zhang Lei sped up and rode home. Once inside, he stood on the balcony and looked down at the street — the black GL8 hadn't followed.
Probably overthinking it.
But he still dredged up Su Qing's words and turned them over in his mind: "Don't get too flashy."
He wasn't being flashy now.
The problem was — the earlier flash had already been seen.
The image of that black GL8 parked at the alley entrance lodged itself in his brain. He had no proof it was connected to him. But he decided — tomorrow, when he went out, he'd pay more attention to his surroundings.
Watch a little more carefully.
These days, some things didn't need X-ray vision to deserve a closer look.