Chapter 261 Transfer Station

Su Xiaoxiao quickly stepped forward and politely gestured for him to enter: "Professor Zhou, as you heard, this is a confidential matter for our shop. What do you think of this…?"

Zhou Yumin watched Lin Fan's figure disappear behind the frosted glass door and sighed helplessly.

He knew the rules of the business world; people who made money with this unique skill had no obligation to cooperate with his research.

Since the other party has shut down the conversation, there's no point in continuing the argument.

Zhou Yumin put the sealed bag containing half a shiitake mushroom back into his shirt pocket and turned to walk towards the shop door.

Before leaving, he looked back at where Lin Fan had left his business card before pushing open the door and stepping into the cold wind of early winter.

In the kitchen.

Lin Fan was not as relaxed as he appeared on the surface.

He leaned against the stainless steel countertop, turned on the tap, and washed his hands.

As the water washed over the back of his hand, he looked at the bottom of the pool, his brow furrowing slightly.

Zhou Yumin's appearance served as a stark warning to him.

The lawyers and investigators sent by Su Qing previously only investigated taxes and bank statements.

He kept those accounts through proper channels, paid taxes according to the law, and was completely clean and honest, so he wasn't afraid of anyone investigating.

However, the source of the ingredients is an unavoidable loophole in reality.

The store is now packed with customers every day, and the amount of ingredients consumed is increasing.

Dozens of kilograms of black mountain pork, bags of Xiangshui tribute rice, and large quantities of wild sea cucumbers and winter mushrooms would appear out of thin air in the kitchen freezers and storage rooms every day.

He had previously claimed that it was delivered through a private channel in the early morning when no one was paying attention.

This excuse might fool ordinary diners, since they only care about whether the food tastes good and won't delve into the kitchen's sourcing channels.

But if one day there are serious people, such as persistent scholars like Zhou Yumin, or if Su Qing hires a more professional private investigator, they might actually squat at the entrance of the alley in Jin Street to check logistics and the driving trajectory of refrigerated trucks.

It will be exposed in an instant.

Because in the real world, there is no physical source for inventory management.

The system space is his biggest trump card, and it absolutely cannot be exposed. He must artificially create a logical "cover and transfer station" in the real world.

Lin Fan dried his hands with a towel and glanced at the clock on the wall.

It was a little after 1 p.m.

There are still more than two hours before I have to pick up Tuantuan from the early childhood education center, which is plenty of time.

He took off his white apron, hung it on a hook on the wall, and strode out of the kitchen.

In the hall, Su Xiaoxiao was wiping the last few tables with a rag.

"Xiaoxiao, I'm going out to take care of something." Lin Fan walked behind the bar, picked up the black casual jacket draped over the chair, and put it on.

"Once you've finished cleaning, just go back to school. Remember to lock the shop door when you leave."

"Okay, Brother Lin." Su Xiaoxiao stopped what she was doing, nodded, and said, "It's gotten colder outside today, and it's windy, so drive carefully."

"Um."

Lin Fan grabbed his car keys, opened the door, and went out.

Lin Fan got into the driver's seat of the Wuling Hongguang and started the engine.

Instead of stepping on the gas, he took out his phone and opened a map app.

He needed to find a remote, secluded, and absolutely private place.

It doesn't need to be easily accessible or have any sophisticated facilities; the only requirement is that it be secluded.

In the northern suburbs of Jiangcheng, there was a surge in agricultural cooperatives and specialty plantations a few years ago.

Later, due to soil quality and environmental issues, many privately contracted orchards and farms were abandoned and left vacant without anyone taking care of them.

Lin Fan slid his finger across the screen, locking onto an area thirty kilometers north of Jiangcheng.

The place is called Qingshigou, far from the main road, surrounded by wasteland and forests.

Having confirmed the general direction, Lin Fan shifted gears and released the handbrake.

The Wuling Hongguang emitted a muffled roar as it drove out of Phoenix Golden Street and onto the city expressway leading to the suburbs.

The car was driving at a moderate speed.

As we got further and further away from the city, the scenery outside the window changed noticeably.

The towering, densely packed office buildings were gradually replaced by low-rise factories and bungalows, and the plane trees lining the roads were replaced by bare poplar trees.

The countryside in early winter looked rather desolate, with cold winds swirling yellow dust and fallen leaves in the air.

Forty minutes later, following the navigation instructions, Lin Fan turned onto a bumpy dirt road.

The road had clearly not been maintained for a long time; the surface was covered with dried tire tracks and gravel.

The Wuling Hongguang has a high chassis, so it bumped along the dirt road. On both sides were large tracts of harvested wasteland, and there wasn't a single person in sight.

Lin Fan slowed down the car and drove along the dirt road for a while, then began to look out for the abandoned sites on both sides of the road.

Passing by an abandoned vegetable greenhouse area, Lin Fan only glanced at it and drove away.

Although the greenhouse frame is still there, it is covered with transparent plastic film, so you can see right through it from the roadside. There is no privacy whatsoever.

After driving another kilometer or two, they came across an abandoned small processing plant. The site was large enough, but the fence was made of iron railings with too many gaps, so it did not block the view. Lin Fan did not stop there either.

We drove until the dirt road ended, and then there was no road ahead.

Lin Fan stepped on the brakes.

Before him stood a large, rusty iron gate. The gate was over three meters wide and was securely locked with a thick iron chain.

What satisfied Lin Fan the most was the tall walls that stretched out from both sides of the iron gate.

This is not an ordinary brick wall, but a solid red brick and cement wall, nearly three meters high.

There were even shards of broken glass stuck on the top of the wall for security, and two strips of rusty wire mesh.

Lin Fan pushed open the car door and got out.

A cold wind, carrying the earthy smell unique to the suburbs, swept over us.

He walked to the wall, reached out and pushed the red brick wall. The wall was very sturdy, and there was no sign of shoddy workmanship.

Because the walls are high enough, even if you stand on tiptoe, you can't see anything inside from the outside.

Lin Fan peeked inside through a crack in the wall.

Inside were vast tracts of abandoned land, overgrown with weeds taller than a person. A few withered fruit trees stood forlornly in the cold wind.

There were no houses, no facilities; it was just a wasteland surrounded by high walls.

There is no agricultural value here; the soil is dry, hard, and whitish.

But this is exactly the perfect venue that Lin Fan needs.

Once the large iron gate is closed, this three-meter-high red brick wall can completely block all outside views.

He could easily drive the truck in late at night, extract the ingredients from the system farm into the real truck, and then brazenly transport them back to Golden Street.

Lin Fan walked to the large iron gate and saw a rental phone number written in marker on the mottled red paint of the gatepost. The writing had been blurred by wind and rain.

He took out his phone and dialed the number.