My Husband's Eyes Have Been Looking Different Lately After Our Marriage of Convenience - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: “Aren’t we sending them to rot in a cell for a few days?”…

A sudden spring rainstorm broke out, accompanied by howling winds.

Wang Ruijing stood at the door of the VIP box. The chaotic sound of shattering glass and heart-wrenching screams of pain interlaced in his ears… Inside was a total mess, but he was so shocked he couldn’t speak.

Song Ai had actually learned how to fight.

And his methods were exceptionally ruthless.

The glass bottles that had held the coconut milk were now shattered all over the floor. Wang Ruijing estimated they must have been smashed within the last thirty seconds, hitting several people—judging by the distorted, agonizing expressions on those poor bastards’ faces.

While those few were preoccupied with their pain, the remaining thugs rushed forward simultaneously under the buzz-cut leader’s command.

Just as Wang Ruijing was about to shout a warning, Song Ai reacted first, dropping low into a direct leg sweep.

Two men were tripped. The remaining two swung their fists at him.

No matter how fast Song Ai’s reactions were, he couldn’t outpace two simultaneous punches. He dodged one but couldn’t avoid the other, so he threw his arm up over his head, taking the hard blow squarely on his forearm.

However, this split second gave him a chance to counter. He flipped over quickly, clamped his palm onto the opponent’s wrist like a vice, and yanked back. The man couldn’t react in time; his upper body followed his arm forward, and Song Ai delivered a fierce kick to his knee. The man dropped straight to the floor, his face contorting into a ball of agony.

The one whose punch Song Ai had dodged took the opportunity to grab a wine bottle and smash it hard against Song Ai’s back.

This time, Song Ai couldn’t dodge.

The bottle hit his lower back with a sharp, ear-piercing “crack.” Shards of glass rained down with a clatter. Song Ai let out a muffled groan of pain, turned, and sent a kick flying.

The last subordinate went down.

“Holy sh*t,” Buzz-cut spat out. He never expected Song Ai to actually have some moves.

He bounced off the sofa, about to get involved personally, when a flurry of urgent footsteps echoed from the hallway.

The owner arrived, and upon seeing the scene, let out a high-pitched, explosive shriek.

…

Cheng Chao was rescued.

Song Ai was also significantly injured.

The group huddled in the owner’s office, their expressions varied. The friend grabbed a bottle of iodine and handed it to Wang Ruijing, casting a complex look at Song Ai, unsure of what to say.

Wang Ruijing knew what his friend was thinking—guilt for not arriving sooner and letting Song Ai take the hit—so he patted his arm and said, “It’s fine. I’ve got this.”

The friend pursed his lips, said nothing more, and turned to leave.

Wang Ruijing unscrewed the cap, dipped a cotton swab in the iodine, and touched Song Ai’s arm. Despite his gentle movements, Song Ai hissed in pain.

“Now you know it hurts? Weren’t you acting all tough just now?” Wang Ruijing mocked while carefully tending to the wounds, feeling like he was playing the role of a cold-faced caregiver.

Song Ai: “…”

He stubbornly retorted, “But didn’t I win?”

Wang Ruijing didn’t bother responding. The scene from earlier kept replaying in his mind, leaving him bewildered. He finally asked, “When did you learn to fight like that?”

“What do you mean ‘learn’?” Song Ai said as if it were obvious. “Have I fought that idiot Zhou Jibai any less than a thousand times?”

“…” Wang Ruijing sighed, his face becoming serious. “Not that kind of childhood scuffle. I mean a one-against-many combat. You’re dodging, sweeping, and kicking—those moves—when did you learn them?”

Song Ai had no brute strength, so he relied entirely on clever leverage. But that kind of leverage clearly wasn’t something one could just manifest on the fly.

Song Ai went silent, looking down and playing deaf.

Wang Ruijing stared at him for a full two minutes, nearly burning a hole in his forehead, but didn’t manage to squeeze out a single word.

“Fine. Don’t tell me then.” Wang Ruijing gave up and went back to applying the medicine.

Beside them, Cheng Chao was still hugging his knees, motionless. He was young, and though he had been spoiled into being irritable and hot-tempered, he had never experienced anything like this. It was normal to be scared witless.

After a while, the owner and the shareholder friend returned. The owner had checked the surveillance footage and questioned the staff involved, finally piecing the story together.

“That buzz-cut guy is a local thug. During our soft opening a few days ago, he came in for some free drinks and took a liking to our waiter, Xiao Wu—the college student who annoyed Young Master Cheng.”

“That kid didn’t say anything to his face, but he called Buzz-cut privately to cry about it. Buzz-cut got riled up, gathered some men, and burst in.”

“It’s also my fault—with so many people waiting for the opening, the security at the door didn’t notice them. They blended in with the guests, snuck into Young Master Cheng’s box, and…”

The owner knew these people’s backgrounds. Unlike his wealthy shareholder friend, he couldn’t afford to offend them. His face was full of apologies. “I am truly sorry. This is on me…”

Wang Ruijing waved a hand, indicating there was no need for more words.

Instead, Song Ai asked nonchalantly, “Where are they?”

The owner froze. “Huh?”

Song Ai repeated patiently, “I mean those thugs.”

Realizing the question, the owner explained, “I have them locked in the storage room next door.”

“Isn’t private detention a bit inappropriate?” Song Ai paused. The owner thought he was being the bigger person and wanted to let them go. But in the next second, he heard Song Ai say through gritted teeth: “Aren’t we sending them to rot in a cell for a few days?”

Owner: “…” This guy is ruthless.

Wang Ruijing added in detail: “Find a few witnesses, take that surveillance footage, and hand those punks over to the police. It should be enough to lock them up for a while. This way it won’t affect your opening day, and they won’t dare bother you for the foreseeable future. Everyone wins.”

The owner understood, agreed repeatedly, and left to handle it.

The shareholder friend stood there, still feeling guilty. He was the one who hired Xiao Wu; during the interview, he had only looked at the face and ignored the character. It resulted in Ai-ge coming to support his business only to get beaten up for nothing.

After thinking for a long time, the friend couldn’t find a way to make it up, so he could only say: “How about I take you to the hospital?”

At the mention of the hospital, Song Ai’s brow instinctively furrowed. “Not going.” He refused flatly.

Wang Ruijing knew he hated the smell of disinfectant. “Let’s take him home.”

Hearing the word “home,” the half-dead Cheng Chao came back to life. One of his eyes was still swollen, showing signs of bruising that wouldn’t heal for at least two months.

Cheng Chao’s voice carried a hint of a sob. “No, I can’t go home.”

Song Ai looked at him crossly. “Why?”

Cheng Chao: “My mom will beat me to death.”

Song Ai: “…”

He had met Cheng Chao’s mother—Lu Tingyun’s paternal aunt—and she was indeed fierce.

The Cheng family had no real foundation; their status relied entirely on the Lu family. Since the Lu family had few heirs—Old Mrs. Lu only had one son, Lu Haichuan, who in turn only had one son, Lu Tingyun—managing the vast family estate was difficult with just three generations. So, Old Mrs. Lu pulled in members of the extended family, giving them a small share of the pie and expecting them to pull together.

Being of a similar age, if trained properly, Cheng Chao would be a strong aide for Lu Tingyun in the future. Cheng Chao’s mother knew this well, so she was never soft in her discipline—only the “stick,” never the “carrot.” Unfortunately, Cheng Chao wasn’t built for that life. Despite the effort put into his upbringing, nothing about him had grown except his height.

Song Ai thought coldly, then asked curiously: “If you’re so scared of your mom, why didn’t you think of that before you caused trouble?”

Cheng Chao licked his dry lips. “I didn’t cause trouble.”

Song Ai: “Wasn’t that waiter your fault?”

“He provoked me!” Cheng Chao became agitated. He was at that hot-blooded age where he couldn’t stand being misunderstood. He explained incoherently, “He saw me top up fifty thousand at the door, so he tried to push wine on me. I told him I wasn’t drinking, but he wouldn’t let it go! He snuck into my box to keep pushing it, as if he wanted to pour it down my throat! That’s why I got angry and chased him out!”

Song Ai looked at him with skepticism. Cheng Chao had idolized his cousin Lu Tingyun since childhood; while he was rude, he usually wasn’t entirely without sense. If he hadn’t been pushed, he probably wouldn’t have wanted to cause a scene. After all, his mother’s clothes-hangers were no joke.

Song Ai believed him for now and asked, “What were you doing here in the first place?”

This time, Cheng Chao went silent.

Song Ai’s patience ran out. “Cat got your tongue?”

Cheng Chao looked up tentatively, clearly understanding the current situation—whether he survived to see tomorrow morning’s sun depended entirely on Song Ai. After a moment’s thought, he confessed: “I made a bet with friends at school to see who could sneak into this bar…”

Hearing this, Song Ai almost fainted from anger. “You f*cking…”

Instead of studying at school, do you play these games every day?? Can’t you look up to your cousin for once?!

Wang Ruijing frowned. “What about the fifty thousand?”

Cheng Chao: “…They didn’t believe I got in, so they told me to top up some money and screenshot the membership info as proof. I happened to have some allowance left, so…”

“…”

Now even Wang Ruijing couldn’t listen anymore. What a nightmare of a child!!!

Both of them rubbed their temples to stay conscious.

After recovering, Song Ai said coldly: “I’ll send you home, or you come back to the Lu house with me. Your choice.”

Cheng Chao gasped in shock, looking dumbfounded. “Is there any difference between these two ways to die?”

Song Ai gave a cold “Heh” and sneered: “The choice between a long beating with a stick or a quick, clean end. You tell me.”

…

In the end, Cheng Chao chose the quick, clean end.

The friend drove the three of them to the gates of the Lu residence. Song Ai and Cheng Chao sat side-by-side in the back. Before getting out, Song Ai raised a hand toward Cheng Chao.

Cheng Chao was confused. “What?”

Song Ai said weakly, “Help me up.”

Cheng Chao stared at the arm—bruised and covered in iodine—and hesitated. Although he disliked Song Ai and thought the Songs were opportunists who used old favors to force the Lu family into a marriage between his cousin and a dropout like Song Ai… Song Ai saved him today.

By the code of the streets, one cannot return kindness with enmity. Cheng Chao reached out decisively.

Song Ai wasn’t gravely injured—at least his external wounds didn’t look as bad as Cheng Chao’s. But when he stepped out, he leaned almost his entire weight on Cheng Chao’s arm. Over a hundred pounds—it was incredibly heavy. Cheng Chao suspected he was doing it on purpose.

Wang Ruijing had already stepped out of the passenger seat and helped from the other side. He looked worried. “How about you come to my place? My dad’s private doctor lives with us and is on call.”

Cheng Chao felt a bit lighter and let out a breath, his competitive nature flaring up. “Can your doctor be as good as the one at my brother’s house?”

Wang Ruijing: “…”

Song Ai rolled his eyes at this “cousin-obsessed” brat, revealed the bracelet under his sleeve, and said with a hint of mockery: “Can’t go. There’s a tracker. If I die, I have to die at the Lu house.”

Wang Ruijing frowned, staring at the bracelet, but said nothing more.

Cheng Chao became curious. “What tracker? You have a tracking device on you?”

Song Ai “smacked” his head away. “Don’t stick your nose into grown-up business, you brat.”

Cheng Chao, called a “brat” for the first time: “…”

Wang Ruijing looked up at the gates of the Lu residence, his expression complex. The cold, hard iron bars of the gate looked like a cage, where a bird longing for freedom was forever imprisoned.

“I’ll head back then. Call me if you need anything.”

Only after Song Ai nodded did Wang Ruijing get back into the car.

There was a side door next to the iron gate that could be opened with a facial scan. Cheng Chao supported Song Ai step by step as they walked inside. The gate was quite far from the villa, and both realized for the first time—Why the fck is this estate so big?*

After finally dragging themselves to the villa entrance, they ran straight into Lu Tingyun, who was coming down from the second floor.

His gaze locked onto them with pinpoint accuracy. The two, leaning on each other, froze simultaneously.

Lu Tingyun was wearing silk pajamas—dark gray and slightly form-fitting. Song Ai caught a glimpse of the wrinkles in the fabric and suddenly had a strange illusion—

Tonight, Lu Tingyun seemed a little… different?