Chapter Seven: Misunderstanding

Judging from his sister-in-law's expression, Xiao Cheng could already guess what Fang Yujia was thinking. He felt somewhat uneasy—he had just stood up for his sister-in-law, and yet now found himself the villain in everyone's eyes, not even given a chance to explain.

Still, he didn’t much care. He had been the one to throw the punch, after all. He merely felt a sense of grievance, not that he’d suffered any true loss. If anything, Qiao Yifeng was probably feeling more annoyed than he was; not only had he let the matter go, but he even spoke up on Xiao Cheng’s behalf.

Suspicion gnawed at Xiao Cheng’s heart. Why had Qiao Yifeng chosen to cover for him? Even if he wished to conceal his earlier eavesdropping, that hardly seemed reason enough to exonerate Xiao Cheng. What was his true intention? Xiao Cheng simply didn’t believe Qiao Yifeng was acting out of kindness.

“Master Qiao, I will give you an answer for this matter. Please wait in the reception room for a moment. Once I have dealt with my family’s affairs, I will come find you.”

...

After Qiao Yifeng left, only three people remained on the floor: Xiao Cheng, Fang Yujia, and Xiao Guowei, whose forehead was now bleeding.

When Xiao Cheng had thrown Xiao Guowei, he hadn't expected the man to hit his head—though, in truth, he suspected Xiao Guowei had done it on purpose. After all, his fourth uncle was a master of internal martial arts, having reached a level of consummate proficiency.

Nearly fifty now, Xiao Guowei showed not a trace of age; his hair was still jet black without a strand of gray. He glared at Xiao Cheng with venomous hatred. If not for the fact that Xiao Cheng was the family’s sole heir and thus untouchable, Xiao Guowei would have crippled him without hesitation.

He simply didn’t believe Xiao Cheng had reached the patriarch’s level of strength. He blamed his own carelessness for being caught off guard.

Fang Yujia’s face was dark with anger, her chest heaving in agitation. It was one thing for her brother-in-law to hit Qiao Yifeng, but to strike his own fourth uncle beforehand—no matter how much she disliked the man, he was still a family elder.

“Fourth Uncle, you tell me—what exactly happened just now?”

Fang Yujia didn’t give Xiao Cheng a chance to explain, but turned directly to her uncle. She’d rather trust the man who so often made things difficult for her than believe her own brother-in-law.

Fourth Uncle recounted the incident with embellishment, saying he’d been standing outside the office, delighted to see Xiao Cheng come to the company, when Xiao Cheng attacked him for no reason and threw him out. He made no mention of having eavesdropped.

If it were anyone else, Fang Yujia wouldn’t have believed him—could Xiao Cheng really have tossed a man of over two hundred pounds? But she knew well enough that he could. The Xiao family was a reclusive clan; their direct descendants all practiced cultivation methods, making them stronger than average people. Xiao Cheng had never lost a fight in school. She had no reason to doubt Xiao Guowei’s account.

Seeing she was set in her opinion, Xiao Cheng simply couldn’t be bothered to argue. Let her misunderstand—she had already branded him a devil in her eyes.

If good intentions are wasted on the ungrateful, so be it. Tonight, we’ll eat “donkey liver” for dinner—I wouldn’t trade it for abalone!

Fang Yujia saw that Xiao Cheng showed not the slightest hint of remorse, wearing the expression of someone utterly indifferent to consequence, and grew even angrier.

“You’ve disrespected your elders, violating clan rules. You know the punishment—don’t expect me to hide this for you. I’ll tell Grandfather everything!”

Disrespecting one’s elders meant fifty lashes by family law. Xiao Cheng’s heart skipped a beat. If he were still at the peak of the innate stage, this would be nothing more than a tickle—but now he was only at the fourth level of Foundation Establishment; fifty lashes would strip his skin if not kill him.

Still, what were fifty lashes? He’d suffered far worse before. This punishment was nothing.

“I never intended to hide it.”

“You—!”

Fang Yujia was at a loss for words. She had expected him to try to play the victim and beg her for help, giving her a pretext to lecture him. Instead, he remained unmoved.

It was strange—when had her brother-in-law developed such backbone? In the past, whenever he got into trouble, he always pleaded with her for protection. Then she realized: perhaps he intended to follow in their ancestor’s footsteps.

She decided not to waste any more time on him, turning to Xiao Guowei. “This matter, along with the incident with Master Qiao, must be reported to the patriarch. Don’t go easy on him.”

With that, she turned and left. She had agreed to dine with Qiao Yifeng that evening to continue their business discussions. In truth, she’d never accepted an invitation from any man before, but Qiao Yifeng was different—an old classmate—and tonight’s dinner was purely business.

After Fang Yujia left, Xiao Guowei’s demeanor changed entirely. His eyes grew vicious as he stared at Xiao Cheng.

Xiao Cheng ignored the hateful look. He was certain his fourth uncle would do nothing to him; a schemer like Xiao Guowei always believed revenge could wait ten years, and would never resort to violence in the moment.

Once Xiao Cheng had gone, Xiao Guowei’s face turned even gloomier. “Let’s see how long you can remain arrogant,” he muttered. “The ancestor and the patriarch will die one day. When they’re gone, who will protect you? Hmph!”

...

By the time Xiao Cheng left the eighteenth floor, dusk had fallen.

The city of Shanghai was coming alive with lights. The towering buildings nearby glowed with vibrant colors, and the streets bustled with speeding cars—a scene of prosperity. Watching it, Xiao Cheng felt as if he were glimpsing another world.

For five years, he’d lived in pursuit and regret; now, reborn eight years before, the sense of fate’s cruel joke was complex and ineffable.

He could not deny that being given a second chance at this moment was a blessing. Yet, a kind of hysterical loneliness pressed in. Every member of his family despised him. He knew so much about the future, but could tell no one—and even if he did, who would believe him? It was a suffocating feeling, like being constipated.

There was not a single person he could trust. Was this not a kind of sorrow?

He hadn’t always been so wayward. As a child, he was as innocent as anyone else.

At the age of four, he’d come home, beaming, with a perfect test score for his mother. She hadn’t so much as looked up from her mahjong tiles, only muttering “Winning,” and ignored him completely.

That night, his perfect paper was torn to shreds, scattered in the rain, the red “100” dissolving until it was unrecognizable.

Later, for reasons unknown, his mother emigrated to Canada, leaving him behind. He was only six. When she left, he didn’t shed a single tear.

He’d lost his father young. After his mother’s departure, his uncles took turns caring for him, but they too died one after another.

By fifteen, his older brothers had all married, leaving him with four sisters-in-law who began to look after him. By then, however, he had become unmanageable.

Later, even his brothers died, leaving only four sisters-in-law and the old patriarch as the last direct descendants of the Xiao family.

After the family’s destruction, he uncovered clues about their enemies, suspecting they belonged to a sect of evil cultivators. He didn’t know the specific reason for his family’s annihilation, only that the enemy was powerful—his master, who had reached the Golden Core stage, had died as well.

Thinking of the burden he would soon bear alone, Xiao Cheng felt a wave of helplessness. The enemy was likely a great sect or formidable force, and he was only one man.

But what of it? He would carry the burden—his grandfather would not care, and the rest of the family only sought to divide the estate.

Even so, he felt no fear. Three years remained before the family was doomed, and in that time, he could accomplish much.

—