Chapter Twelve: Who Is More Attractive, Xia Tingting or Me?

When Li Yifei’s parents arrived at the police station and saw their son’s face swollen like a pig’s head, they didn’t recognize him at first. This was exactly the kind of beating people talked about, where even your own parents wouldn’t know you.

Seeing his parents searching for him in the station, Li Yifei called out petulantly from a corner, “Mom, Dad, it’s me, Xiaofei!”

Zhang Qiuyan glanced at her son and hurried over, her heart aching as she said, “Fei’er, who on earth did you get into a fight with? If you hadn’t called out to me, I wouldn’t have recognized you.”

“Fei’er, who hit you? Tell your dad, and I’ll help you get revenge.”

Li Jun, Li Yifei’s father, was determined to avenge his son. Although he was short and round, he had money. He believed there was nothing in this world that couldn’t be solved with money.

“Zheng Debiao did it. Zheng Debiao from the Tiger Dragon Gang,” Li Yifei answered weakly.

“The Tiger Dragon Gang’s Zheng Debiao? He’s the third-in-command of the gang! We need to think this through carefully,” Li Jun was frightened by his son’s words. The Tiger Dragon Gang was not someone he could afford to provoke.

Zhang Qiuyan didn’t care what gang they were from—her son had been beaten, and someone would have to pay for that.

“Li Jun, what do you mean, you won’t avenge your son?”

Li Jun hadn’t expected his wife to be so troublesome. Fights were a man’s affair; what did she know?

“Getting our son to the hospital is the priority. We can talk about revenge later.” Li Jun had to redirect their attention. With their son so badly injured, was he supposed to let them argue endlessly here?

“Yes, yes… Let’s get him to the hospital first,” Zhang Qiuyan quickly agreed.

As they helped their son up and prepared to leave, they decided to ask if Li Yifei had mentioned his father’s name when Zheng Debiao was beating him. If he had, Li Jun would have to apologize to Zheng Debiao tomorrow—he didn’t want to end up beaten like his son. That would be too humiliating.

“Uncle Song, we’re heading to the hospital,” Li Yifei called out to Song Yiming as they left, also hinting to his parents that Song Yiming was there, hoping they would try to get closer to him.

Li Jun heard his son call out to “Uncle Song” and, uncertain who that was, followed his son’s gaze. Seeing that it was Song Yiming, he immediately put on a smile and walked over.

Song Yiming, however, gave Li Yifei no face, his expression dark and his tone cold, “I’ve told you before, stop calling me Uncle Song. And you with that pig-face—get to the hospital and see if you’ve mutated.”

Song Yiming doted on his daughter, and Li Yifei had dared to pretend to be her boyfriend and even betrayed her to avoid being beaten himself. Song Yiming would not show him any courtesy.

“Director Song, what happened here? You and your daughter are here too?” Li Jun seized the opportunity to ingratiate himself, ignoring his son’s humiliation.

Song Yiming looked at Li Jun’s fawning face with disdain.

“Take your son to the hospital, and don’t bother me. If you want to know what happened, ask him yourself.”

Seeing Song Yiming’s sour face and unwillingness to engage, Li Jun had no choice but to take his son to the hospital.

“Fei’er, what’s going on? Why did Song Yiming tell me to ask you?” On the way to the hospital, Li Jun asked his son what had happened. He still hoped his son could pursue Song Fei’er, but Song Yiming’s attitude today made him uneasy.

“Dad, Song Yiming has his eye on some poor kid. He wants that kid as his son-in-law, so he’s not very friendly toward us now,” Li Yifei lied, then added with aggrieved tone, “The kid hit the jackpot with the lottery, and now he’s buying a car. Maybe he told Song Yiming he’s rich, so Song Yiming is interested in him.”

Yang Le had indeed talked about buying a car, but he hadn’t said any of that to Li Yifei. These were lies Li Yifei spun to fool his father.

“What! You can’t beat a poor kid? It’s just a car—Dad will give you money, buy one yourself. I’ll give you a million; get a car better than his. Then we’ll see if Song Yiming doesn’t change his mind.” Li Jun couldn’t believe Song Yiming would choose a poor kid. What was so impressive about Yang Le buying a car? He would buy his son something even better.

“That kid won’t have his lottery money forever. When it runs out, Song Yiming won’t think much of him anymore, and then your chance will come. For now, keep your head down but watch them closely. Don’t let that kid get to Song Fei’er first—you don’t want to end up with someone else’s leftovers, that would be disgusting.”

Li Jun still believed his son had a chance and advised him on what to do, unaware that Li Yifei had already thoroughly offended Song Yiming.

“Dad, you always know best!” Li Yifei flattered his father, careful not to go overboard.

Li Jun felt a bit proud at his son’s words, but then remembered the beating and asked, “Fei’er, did you mention my name when Zheng Debiao was hitting you?”

Li Yifei thought to himself, what good would mentioning Li Jun’s name do with someone like Zheng Debiao?

But he didn’t say that aloud.

“No, Dad, I didn’t.”

“Good, good…” Li Jun muttered to himself, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Dad, my injuries aren’t too bad. Why don’t you give me the money now so I can get the car tomorrow? That way I’ll have some face among classmates. Imagine them seeing me with a luxury car while still in school—they’ll wonder whose son I am, and you’ll have face too.”

Li Yifei thought, if he had a luxury car, girls would flock to him and he wouldn’t have to rely on his own efforts anymore.

“No problem, I’ll transfer the money once we get to the hospital,” Li Jun replied cheerfully.

Back at the police station, Song Yiming had a major operation to prepare for and wouldn’t be able to go home for a while. He said to Yang Le, “Yang, I still have some matters to attend to. Could you take Fei’er home for me?”

Yang Le was reliable, and had even taken a beating for Song Yiming’s daughter. If Yang Le didn’t become his son-in-law, Song Yiming would truly regret it for his daughter. His intention was to give the two young people some time alone.

“Uncle Song, I don’t mind, but I’m not sure how Fei’er feels about it,” Yang Le glanced at the lovely Song Fei’er, then nodded and agreed. He thought it best to ask her, so he looked at her again.

“I’d like that,” Song Fei’er answered eagerly. Today’s events had made her believe Yang Le was reliable.

“Then you two head out. If you don’t feel like going home, you can get a hotel room—I’m very open-minded,” Song Yiming said, earning a glare from his daughter.

Yang Le was stunned. Song Yiming seemed so anxious about his daughter’s marriage prospects, he was already suggesting hotel rooms while they were still in high school.

“Dad, did you have a high fever recently and fry your brain? You should get checked at the hospital, or you might end up with dementia,” Song Fei’er retorted.

“How do you talk to your father? No respect at all,” Song Yiming grumbled, though he wasn’t truly angry—he was just putting on a stern face.

“I’m not talking to you. I’m leaving,” she said. “Yang Le, let’s go. Ignore him.”

With that, Song Fei’er called Yang Le and left. Since neither had a car, they hailed a taxi outside.

“Driver, take us to Peace Garden.”

Yang Le had no idea where Song Fei’er lived, so she gave the address herself.

“Yang Le, how did you meet my dad? You two seem quite familiar,” Song Fei’er had wanted to ask, but not in Song Yiming’s presence; she feared he’d say something inappropriate, so she’d held back.

“We had a meal together at the start of term,” Yang Le answered honestly.

“You ate with my dad?” Song Fei’er was skeptical. Her father was the director of the Land Bureau—how could Yang Le have dined with him? Did Yang Le have some background she didn’t know about? But Yang Le had spent the first two years of high school working part-time to pay tuition. If he had connections, why would he need to work so hard? And there were rumors his girlfriend left him because he had no money. What background could he possibly have?

“Yes,” Yang Le replied firmly.

“Why?” Song Fei’er pressed on, determined to get to the bottom of it.

“Ask Uncle Song yourself. I don’t know how to explain,” Yang Le said. He really didn’t know how to put it—should he say his father was rich? He had no intention of revealing his identity yet. As the saying goes, wealth shouldn’t be flaunted. Besides, it was more fun to keep a low profile.

Seeing she wouldn’t get any answers, Song Fei’er gave up.

“Yang Le, do you think I’m pretty?” her question caught Yang Le off guard, but after regaining his composure, he nodded vigorously and said, “You’re very pretty.”

Satisfied, Song Fei’er smiled.

“Who do you think is prettier, me or Xia Tingting?”

Yang Le couldn’t see why Song Fei’er was comparing herself to Xia Tingting, but he answered anyway, “You’re much prettier, with a great figure and a sweet face. The boys at school call you the campus belle.”

After these questions, Song Fei’er fell silent.

When they reached Peace Garden, Yang Le wanted to walk her home, but Song Fei’er refused.

“Yang Le, are you free tomorrow? Shall we go shopping together?”

How could Yang Le refuse such an invitation?

“Sure!” he replied.

Song Fei’er was delighted and went home, while Yang Le returned to his own place.

Finding his home empty, Yang Le decided to call his father to check on him.