I Want To Marry My dad, Not My Uncle - Chapter 2

Xingchen tucked his phone away. “Smash it. I will watch you smash it, and I will leave after you are done.”

The two Black men clearly did not expect this reaction. They looked at each other in confusion.

Xingchen kept his hands in his pockets, kicking at the shattered glass on the ground. “Are you not afraid that I will call the police and ruin your chance to finish smashing all the luxury cars in this parking lot? I am not leaving, and I am not calling the police. You had better hurry up before the security guards arrive.”

The man holding the crowbar stopped hesitating, leaned half his body into the car, and rummaged through the passenger side.

The man holding the gun kept his distance from Xingchen. “Hey, brother, you have guts. Do you want to join our Blue Gang?”

Xingchen looked up at the corner mirror. His charcoal-gray eyes lacked any youthful vitality. “No interest.”

The man rummaging through the car pulled out a pile of items. Xingchen recognized several packs of premium cigarettes immediately; they were Chinese-made and not available on the open market.

However, neither of the men knew the value of the cigarettes, so Xingchen pretended not to see them.

The man squeezed back into the car and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the back.

As soon as that bottle appeared, Xingchen knew he was in trouble. That whiskey retailed for 13,000 dollars.

It was a 55-year-old Macallan. Anyone who drank whiskey knew the value of that brand, not to mention the ornate crystal bottle and the golden, amber-colored crystal stopper.

Anyone who was not blind knew that thing was not cheap.

“No, I cannot let this brat see it.” The man charged forward, raising his gun.

Xingchen raised both hands, letting the gun press against his abdomen. “You do not have a silencer installed. If you shoot now, do you still want the rest of the loot?”

“You motherfucker.”

The classic curse did not make it out. Xingchen gripped the barrel of the gun, turned his body, and simultaneously released the magazine and cleared the chamber.

The man scrambled to grab the gun with both hands and squeezed the trigger hard, but not a sound came out.

Xingchen grabbed the man’s hands, leaped off the ground, and kicked him in the abdomen. He released his grip at the moment of maximum force, sending the man flying.

The other man dropped what he was holding, picked up the crowbar, and charged over.

Xingchen crouched to dodge, swept the man’s legs, and knocked him down. The crowbar clattered to the ground.

The man scrambled up to reach for the crowbar, but Xingchen stepped on it.

The man looked anxiously at his companion, who had already grabbed several packs of cigarettes and the bottle of whiskey and was running away, shouting, “Bro, he is Chinese!”

“You motherfucker.” The man noticed the items in Xingchen’s hands and hesitated.

What Xingchen held were the bullets and the magazine he had unloaded from the gun in that split second. He had not even let them hit the ground.

Xingchen picked up the crowbar through his sleeve and handed it to the man.

The man grabbed the crowbar and stood up. Xingchen let go. “Carry on.”

The man looked at the crowbar in his hand in confusion, then looked at Xingchen, who had already walked a few steps away.

Xingchen did not care about these two people at all.

They were just low-level gang lackeys with no tactics. They were not worth fearing, especially since they were foolish enough to hand over a gun within arm’s reach.

Xingchen habitually observed the terrain, scanned the corner mirror, and froze in his tracks.

In the distance, a tall figure was slowly coming into focus: a firm, straight waist and back, wearing a warm-brown coat.

It was Vincent.

And the driver from the restaurant earlier.

This was bad. He would be seen no matter where he ran from this distance.

If he were caught in this situation, he would definitely be mistaken for part of the car-smashing gang.

Xingchen retreated two steps, scaring the man, who hugged the crowbar tightly.

Xingchen grabbed the man by the back of his collar and whispered, “Hit me.”

The man was baffled. “What is wrong with you, brother?”

“I said,” Xingchen punched him, “Hit me!”

The man threw a punch reflexively. Xingchen dodged slightly, letting the man’s fake diamond ring graze his cheek, and then tumbled toward the corner.

A faint woody scent wafted through the cold air. Xingchen crashed into a warm embrace and clung to the person like an octopus.

He instantly squeezed out two tears, reddening the corners of his eyes.

“Sob, help.”

The man remained silent.

Vincent had actually seen the two men struggling in the corner mirror, but he did not expect to know one of them.

The pitiful young man was hanging on him. Under the black-rimmed glasses, his doe-like eyes looked pathetic and cute. His waist, wrapped in his arms, felt so thin that he could probably hold it with two hands.

The scene across the way was a mess. The ground was covered in shattered glass, scattered documents, and a few dollars in change. One look was enough to know what had happened.

The Black man ran off in a blur. Vincent steadied the person in his arms. “You are safe now.”

Xingchen gripped his sleeve, still looking shaken. “Sir.”

The bodyguard pulled out the keys, opened the smashed car door, and began to take inventory of the damage. Xingchen looked up in a daze. “Is this your car, sir?”

Vincent glanced down without pulling his hand away. “Yes.”

“Why are you here?”

Xingchen wiped his tears. “There is a convenience store if you walk through this parking lot. I wanted to buy something.”

He lowered his head in frustration. “I tried my best, but I still could not protect your things.”

Vincent raised his chin slightly and arched his brows. “So, you were acting as a good Samaritan just now?”

Xingchen blushed. “I, not really.”

Vincent raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then what was it?”

Xingchen interlaced his fingers and looked down. “I, I accidentally ran into them. They had guns, so I did not dare to stop them. I was scared. But I saw Chinese cigarettes among the items they stole. I knew it was a fellow countryman’s car, so I stepped forward.”

“Just because it was a Chinese person’s car?” Vincent looked him over.

Xingchen lowered his head even further, his voice sounding like a mosquito. “Yes.”

The bodyguard finished his assessment and came over to report. “We lost four packs of cigarettes and one bottle of liquor. None of it is worth as much as the car glass.”

What kind of car was this expensive?

Xingchen had been standing to the side of the car and had not seen the logo. He took a peek at the driver’s seat.

It was not a brand he recognized.

It looked like an Alpine.

It cost over a million dollars, and money alone could not even buy one.

It was definitely a good target.

Xingchen tilted his head appropriately, revealing the graze on his face. “Sir, how much does it cost to replace the glass?”

Vincent’s expression remained indifferent. “It is fine. We have insurance. But what about your injury? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No, I do not.” Xingchen raised his hand to touch the graze, but his wrist was grasped. He looked up, his eyes filled with watery mist. “Sir.”

The driver took a first-aid kit out of the trunk. Vincent took an iodine cotton swab and handed it to him. “Do not touch it with your hands.”

Xingchen dabbed at his face in the rearview mirror. His fingertips were red and trembling; he did not know if it was from fear or the cold.

“It must have been a professional job. The alarm did not even go off.”

Vincent listened to the driver’s report, his gaze landing intentionally or unintentionally on the figure by the car.

Xingchen finished wiping his face, crunched over the shattered glass, and fiddled with his fingers in embarrassment. “Sir, about that, to file an insurance claim, you must report this to the police, right?”

Vincent nodded.

Xingchen lowered his head. “Then, could you please not mention me to the police? I am afraid of gang retaliation.”

Vincent seemed lost in thought and was silent for a while.

When Xingchen looked up again, Vincent still wore the same indifferent, gentle expression. “Okay.”

Xingchen breathed a sigh of relief. “Then, sir, I will be leaving now.” He waved his hand and walked away.

In the cold wind, that figure looked exceptionally lean and tall. Vincent’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The driver approached and showed him his phone. “Mr. Wen, this waiter is called Cipher. He is a Chinese international student at UPenn. His Chinese name is Li Ang, and he is working here with OPT status. Today was his first day.”

Vincent swiped through the phone screen. “What is this about credit card skimming?”

The driver replied, “He must be short on cash and got caught up in it. He is probably just a low-level skimmer; he was not targeting you specifically.”

Vincent returned the phone to the driver. The driver started a car parked across the way, and Vincent climbed in. “Did he smash the car as well?”

The driver opened the glove compartment on the passenger side. “Let me check.”

There was a hidden camera on the car’s front bumper that had recorded the scene across the way clearly.

After a while, the driver could not help but laugh. “Hahaha, Mr. Wen, this kid is too interesting.”

Vincent took the phone and watched for a while, the corners of his mouth curling upward. “He is interesting.”

“Carry on.”

“Hit me.”

“I said, hit me.”

Vincent turned off the phone. “Keep the reservation for that restaurant.”

The driver was puzzled. “Did you not say we were not going anymore?”

At the entrance of the convenience store, Xingchen cleaned the bullets and the magazine he had just snatched and threw them into the trash can.

Clutching the remaining 22 dollars, he hesitated several times. Under the judgmental gaze of the clerk, he chose a pack of Marlboro Mint cigarettes for 12.50 dollars.

Exiting the store, Xingchen squatted on the side of the road, pulled out a mineral water bottle he had reused several times, and took a slow sip of the icy water.

He opened the cigarette pack, pulled one out, and used his teeth to crush the mint bead. The icy mint aroma permeated his nasal cavity.

One puff of smoke, one sip of icy water. After finishing the cigarette, he felt full. It was time to go home.

The old stairwell felt like a scene from an American horror movie brought to life, with flickering lights.

The neighbor, a woman with pink hair, was seeing a Black man out and threw a flirtatious glance at Xingchen.

Xingchen smiled politely and opened his door.

The room had no decorations and no signs of daily life, only an open suitcase. The small room felt empty.

Xingchen took off his wig and rubbed his scalp, which was aching slightly. His smooth, silky blonde hair fell over his shoulders.

He took a contact lens case out of his suitcase, removed his glasses and colored contacts, and fell onto the bed with his eyes closed without taking off his shoes.

After resting for a while, the neighbor on the other side started arguing. He did not know what language they were speaking, but they were arguing fiercely.

Xingchen rubbed his forehead, got up, and went to the bathroom. He did not look in the mirror. He opened a new bottle of cleansing oil and washed from his face to his neck, then to his wrists.

Yellowish liquid flowed down. Xingchen skillfully wrapped a paper towel around his neckline, and his porcelain-white skin gradually appeared in its natural state. He did not glance at the mirror once; he walked out immediately after washing.

Accompanied by the sounds of the neighbors arguing, Xingchen lay on the bed and browsed his phone. After a thorough search, he found two profiles that looked the most like him.

One account had no photos; the profile picture was a blurry shot of someone’s back. The firm, straight waist and back reminded him of Vincent.

The other account was full of heartwarming photos: kittens, puppies, lawns, flowers, and photos of a piano. There were no selfies.

This information was not enough. Xingchen did not even know which account belonged to Vincent.

Was he going to have to go in blind this time?

Xingchen called Jizuo. “Jizuo, have you offloaded those items yet?”

Jizuo replied, “It will take a few more days. They are too scattered. The Hermes towels and toiletries are easy to sell, but the other branded razors and keychains are hard to move.”

“You did not go so far as to strip his underwear off him, did you?”

Xingchen laughed. “I wanted to, but his underwear was Calvin Klein. It is not worth much.”

Jizuo was laughing so hard on the other end of the line that he could barely straighten up. “Hahaha, it is his bad luck to have met you.”

Xingchen replied, “Otherwise, stop selling them individually. Just package them to a professional group and take a 40 percent discount.”

Jizuo stopped laughing. His tone turned a bit more serious. “There really is no time left. I will contact someone to offload them tonight.”

Xingchen said, “Once the items are gone, I can equip myself properly.”

Jizuo laughed. “How much are you planning to rake in this time?”

Xingchen thought of that watch and that car, raised his chin slightly, and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

“Enough to make him never forget me for the rest of his life.”