Free Web NovelChapter 288: Chapter 290: The Comical Father-Son Duo
A lesson in "fatherly love" unfolded in the courtyard, accompanied by a boy’s miserable cries.
The tough guy truly wasn’t holding back. The WHACK-WHACK-WHACK of the stick hitting the boy’s bottom filled the other buyers with sympathy, and they stepped forward to intervene.
"Alright, that’s enough! You’re going to really hurt him!"
"That’s enough. Let the boy save some face."
"He’s old enough. You can just talk to him; he’ll understand."
With everyone chiming in, the tough guy probably figured it wasn’t the best place for a beating. The force of his blows lessened, and his grip on the boy’s hand loosened slightly.
"It was so hard to catch him this time... Who knows if he’ll get caught next time."
An Ning’s unexpected comment made the tough guy’s hand, which had just loosened, tighten its grip once more.
The WHACK-WHACK-WHACK of the stick grew even louder.
"AHHH— What did I ever do to you?!"
The boy stopped begging for mercy and instead howled at An Ning.
’If it weren’t for this woman, I would’ve escaped. I wouldn’t be getting beaten.’
’Great. Now the all-purpose ’mom’ excuse won’t work.’
An Ning gave the boy a small smile. To him, she looked just like the big bad wolf in grandma’s clothes—utterly sinister.
"Dad—my real dad, I was wrong! I really know I was wrong now."
The boy began to beg for mercy, weeping and wiping away tears as he pleaded.
An Ning crouched down, intrigued. She met the boy’s gaze, clicked her tongue, and nodded. "He can turn the tears on and off at will. He’s got potential."
"Hmm... is that a hint of ginger I smell?"
An Ning saw the boy’s eyes fill with confusion and doubt, but not a hint of redirected anger.
Even though she had fanned the flames like this, the boy still didn’t resent or blame her.
Seeing this, An Ning was even more pleased.
After hearing what An Ning said, the tough guy immediately realized something.
"You little bastard! So you’ve been faking it all along, haven’t you? No wonder your tears come so easily!"
"You dare pull this crap on me? If I don’t beat you into submission today, I’ll take your last name!"
"Dad, we already have the same last name!"
Hearing this, the tough guy’s blows landed even harder.
"His voice is booming and his mind is sharp. Doesn’t look like he’s hurt too badly."
And there was no doubt who had said it—the enthusiastic sideline spectator, An Ning.
The boy being beaten looked at An Ning, his eyes about to pop out of his head and his lips trembling.
"Hey, great hero, do we... do we have some kind of beef?"
"You can’t play dirty like that!"
The boy whimpered, some of his tears now genuine. He felt so wronged!
An Ning beamed at the boy and wagged her finger back and forth in a "no" gesture.
"Not at all. I was just upholding justice. I’m just a warm-hearted person."
The boy was rendered speechless by An Ning’s utterly shameless answer.
Finally, he gave up resisting. He lay down obediently and said to the tough guy, "Dad, you don’t have to hold me down. I’ll just lie here myself."
"Here, how’s this position? Is it convenient for you to hit me?"
"If you’re not satisfied, I can try another one."
Perfectly demonstrating his shameless, thick-skinned nature, the boy actually shifted into a new position, leaving the tough guy paused, hand raised, unsure how to continue the beating.
"Go on, hit me! I’m all set."
"Get lost!"
With a hard shove from the tough guy, the boy went tumbling to the ground.
The instant his sore bottom touched the ground, the boy quickly rolled over onto his stomach.
"Ow, that really hurts!"
"Next time, can you hit a different spot? How am I supposed to sit for the next few days?"
The boy still found time to complain, but his tone revealed the closeness between them, lacking any real grievance.
An Ning stood up as well, her gaze on the boy growing even more satisfied.
’Good personality, good temper, not easily angered, calm.’
’Most importantly, the boy’s spiritual power... it’s exquisite.’
This was why An Ning had acted so out of character, insisting on fanning the flames.
The moment the boy appeared, she had noticed his spiritual power was even more active than Jiang Xia’s.
In an instant, An Ning knew: this boy was a genius.
A genius she couldn’t help but want to take as her disciple the moment she saw him.
The boy’s half-cajoling act toward the tough guy made it impossible for the man to stay angry.
The tough guy pushed the boy’s face away in mock disgust. "Get away from me! We’re men, talk like one."
The boy looked at the tough guy with an innocent, aggrieved expression, then suddenly struck a pose, pointing at him with a theatrically delicate finger.
"Oh, you heartless brute!"
Those words reignited the tough guy’s anger in an instant.
"You little brat—"
"Just kidding! I’m just kidding!"
The two resumed their game of cat and mouse. The people in the courtyard looked at one another, all wondering the same thing: ’Is he still even selling this house today?’
Perhaps the collective force of everyone’s silent frustration had an effect, because the fleeing boy suddenly yelled, "Dad, sell the house! We have to sell the house!"
"If you don’t sell the house, how are you going to pay for my studies!"
"How can I focus on my studies without money!"
"And if I can’t focus on my studies, how will my politics grade ever improve!"
This string of little arguments actually managed to stop the pursuing tough guy in his tracks.
"You little brat, just you wait till this is over."
With that, the tough guy stood in the middle of the courtyard, faced the potential buyers, and said bluntly, "You get one chance. The bidding starts now."
"Give them the paper."
The man who had opened the gate for An Ning and the others pulled several pre-cut slips of paper from his sleeve. Everyone received one slip and a pencil.
The buyers in the courtyard didn’t know the tough guy personally, but after watching the scene unfold, they had a pretty good idea of his character.
Direct, no dawdling, no nonsense.
Each buyer turned away, found a relatively secluded corner, and after some mental calculation, wrote down their bid.
Everything hinged on this.
An Ning also received a slip of paper, but the pen in her hand hovered, hesitating. Beside her, Yu the Elder and An Guoming didn’t rush her; they weren’t worried.
Among the three of them, An Ning was the one in charge.
She had her own plans and the ability to see them through.
An Ning finally put pen to paper, but unlike the others who were quick, she wrote for quite some time.
From the outside, the way her pen moved didn’t look like she was just writing numbers.
Ten minutes later, the man who’d opened the gate collected all the slips and handed them to the tough guy.
The tough guy showed no hesitation, unfolding one slip and reading it aloud.
The rule was simple: highest bidder wins.
"Fifty-eight thousand."
"Sixty-three thousand."
"Forty-seven thousand."
...
The tough guy continued reading off the prices. Soon, he came to one slip and fell silent, staring at it and reading it over and over.
He held up the slip of paper and asked the crowd in the courtyard, "Is this for real?"
The others in the courtyard had no idea what was going on.
It was then that An Ning stepped forward. Her confident posture was undeniable—she even projected a bit of her spiritual power, just to appear more formidable and trustworthy.
"Of course it’s real. I have a professor from Beijing University right here who can vouch for it."
