Heading for the Plains - Chapter 29

Tian Lao-liu’s family was clearly intimidated by Ping Yuan’s bluster.

They had rushed here from their hometown and had no idea about the relationship between Xia Chao and Ping Yuan. They certainly didn’t know that Xia Chao had simply fainted from low blood sugar due to the adrenaline spike of the fight. Seeing the pale, delicate-looking girl emerge from the breakroom appearing ready to collapse again, they panicked, terrified of being burdened with more medical bills.

“It—it was just a few broken cups!” Tian Lao-liu stammered, trying to maintain a facade of toughness. “Who are you to butt in? A scammer? I’ll sue you for extortion!”

“I am a friend of the shop owner, handling this matter on her behalf,” Ping Yuan lied without blinking, showing him her phone. “The price quotes and screenshots are all here. See for yourself.”

Tian Lao-liu took the phone and began to scroll.

Had he been an expert, he would have noticed that the models in the screenshots didn’t match the equipment in the shop at all. It was a blatant bluff, but he was clueless. His ignorance and backwardness—the very things that fueled his primitive malice were also his fatal weaknesses.

Ping Yuan calmly took her phone back. Her air of composed indifference, as if the outcome were already settled and of little consequence to her, was difficult to read and only deepened Tian Lao-liu’s fear.

“That’s… that’s so much money! We can’t pay that!” He decided to play the rogue, leaning back in his chair with a look of ‘do what you will with me.’ “My family has spent our lives digging in the dirt. We’re penniless! You want money? We don’t have it! You want a life? Take my worthless one!”

“I don’t want your money,” Ping Yuan replied with a thin smile. “And of course, I don’t want your life.”

She spoke with calculated precision. Xia Chao realized that throughout the entire confrontation, Ping Yuan never directly argued with him. She would always smile and say, ‘Yes, you’re right, exactly.’ She would guide his thinking into her own logic, only to calmly drop a “but.”

The turn in her speech was like a backhanded blade, yet her tone remained polite, almost carrying the pity of a superior. It made her opponent panic while simultaneously feeling lucky, as if everything would be okay if they just yielded.

For instance, right now, she was giving him a graceful exit.

“I know you don’t have money, and fortunately, I’m not particularly short on it myself. Therefore, I don’t intend to demand compensation,” she said slowly, before dropping the pivot. “However, there is a condition for waiving the debt.”

“And that is to…” she paused, not knowing Xiao Zhen’s full name, and improvised from memory, “…to cancel the thirty thousand yuan debt Fang Xiao Zhen owes you.”

“Of course, if you want to seek it from her father, be my guest,” Ping Yuan said with a lazy, roguish tone Xia Chao had never heard from her before. “But here, with me, it won’t fly.”

“Write a note,” she said, elegantly pulling a single sheet of paper from her stack. “The paper is right here.”

The handwriting on the paper was upright and refined; she had actually drafted the IOU from the very beginning.

Xia Chao was stunned again. While Tian Lao-liu was still rolling on the floor throwing a tantrum, Ping Yuan had already woven a net and was waiting for him to jump into the fire.

Tian Lao-liu fell for it. He took the paper, his eyes shifting hesitantly. “Then the other tens of thousands…?”

“My friend will deduct it from Fang Xiao Zhen’s salary. She is an employee here and has more credit than you; we’re willing to give her a discount and let her pay in installments.” She looked at him, her fingertips lightly tapping the mahogany table of the mediation room. She shook her head with a smile. “But you? No.”

“And don’t think about going back on your word later. There are witnesses and physical evidence. If Fang Xiao Zhen calls me and says you’re harassing her again, I reserve the right to pursue prosecution at any time.”

“Pursuing prosecution means making you face a lawsuit,” she explained with an almost sincere tone. “As for the statute of limitations for civil litigation…”

In reality, the statute of limitations for such things is often quite short—usually one year unless otherwise specified. Ping Yuan, reaching back into her distant memory of a double major in law during university, said firmly: “Ten years.”

Man, she’s really going for the big lie! the young police officer listening in thought, her eyes wide. She instinctively started to speak up, but the older officer beside her tugged her sleeve and gave her a look: “Shhh.”

The police, as an enforcement agency, often deal with the courts. The officers present knew Ping Yuan was making up a good portion of her “legal” claims. But they also knew the IOU she was having him sign wouldn’t hold much legal weight anyway. It was just a verbal scare tactic.

However, the officers also knew the man hadn’t caused substantial physical harm today; he would likely only face administrative detention for carrying a controlled weapon. Even if sentenced, the term wouldn’t be long. What would happen if he continued to harass the victim upon release?

The police station is an enforcement agency, not a court or a neighborhood committee; they have no authority to settle private debts or interpersonal grievances. This cold-eyed woman was handling it her way. She had chosen her timing perfectly, stepping in only after Tian Lao-liu had fully displayed his thuggish nature, ensuring that both sympathy and logic were entirely on her side.

When Tian Lao-liu looked to the officers for help, everyone remained silent. In that crushing silence, he was finally broken.

“Fine,” he muttered, his arrogance gone. “Deal. I’ll take the hit on the thirty thousand, but you… those sixty thousand! You can’t come looking for trouble with me later!” He looked pained, as if he were truly mourning the “loss” of that thirty thousand yuan.

Ping Yuan’s gaze swept over the deep wrinkles on his face and his yellowed fingers, stained from years of smoking cheap tobacco. She felt a sudden, sharp pang of sorrow.

Was thirty thousand yuan really that much?

To Tian Lao-liu’s precious son, thirty thousand was just the cost of a “bride.” But to his sister, to Xiao Zhen, and to countless girls in the world, that amount was enough to buy out their entire lives.

How unfair fate is. There are some in this world who spend their lives searching for a lost daughter, never finding her. And there are others who, despite having their family together, will sell their daughter like livestock or corn for a few thousand yuan.

Is a girl’s life really that cheap?

Ping Yuan felt a chill in her heart.

She stopped talking. The coldness on her face was like a fortress made of ice, or a sharp blade held at someone’s throat. Tian Lao-liu didn’t dare look at her again; he bowed his head and scribbled his name as if venting his frustration. The crooked, messy signature stood in stark contrast to the elegant handwriting above it.

He slammed the paper down in front of her. “There! Take it! Let’s go! We’re going to the hospital to see that money-wasting brat of ours!”

Ping Yuan remained silent. She wanted nothing more to do with him. She stood with her arms crossed, watching coldly as he dragged his bewildered wife away, the couple pushing and cursing at each other in their local dialect as they left. The family had arrived in a clamor, and they left in one.

A farce.

She let out a very, very slow breath, trying to keep her chest from heaving visibly. Xiao Zhen and Xia Chao stood behind her, looking at her with a mix of gratitude and disbelief.

Ping Yuan walked over and handed the paper to Xiao Zhen. “Keep this safe. Don’t lose it.”

“Thank you,” Xiao Zhen’s voice trembled. She was only twenty, and tears were welling in her eyes. “Sister, truly, thank you.”

Ping Yuan forced a smile and gave her a small nod.

Xia Chao stepped quickly to Ping Yuan’s side. She had been thrilled; Ping Yuan’s victory had been absolute, and her admiration was beyond words. But the moment she reached Ping Yuan’s side, she realized something was wrong.

Ping Yuan’s expression was icy. Even after the family had left, the frost on her face didn’t melt. It was as if a bloody blade had been thrust into her chest—the coldness froze the wound, but the hot, red blood was still seeping underneath.

Xia Chao knew what that look meant. The white shirt covered Ping Yuan’s chest like fresh snow, but beneath that snow was the dark red of an old wound.

It was a heartbreaking sight. Xia Chao reached out and gently took Ping Yuan’s hand.

“I’m here,” she whispered.

Ping Yuan’s hand was indeed very cold. She didn’t speak, but she gripped Xia Chao’s hand tightly.

You won’t be abandoned again, Xia Chao’s eyes said silently. You won’t be alone.

Xia Chao’s hand was warm and strong. That heat was so distinct in the chill of the air-conditioned room, serving as Ping Yuan’s only anchor and beacon in the world. Love and longing are the ropes that tether a drifter.

The icy hand slowly began to warm, and with it, the frozen expression. Ping Yuan stood there, took a soft breath, and finally nodded. “Mhm.”

She gave Xia Chao’s hand one last firm squeeze before quickly letting go, appearing a bit embarrassed. She turned away, brushing her hair back, and resumed her calm composure.

“Let’s finish the paperwork,” she said.

Xia Chao stood aside and watched her, a silent witness to the return of her invincible pride. Ping Yuan was like a sharp sword having the dust wiped from its blade—shining, cold, and untouchable.

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