The Byoukidere Is Her Sweetie-Chapter 198 - 198 Show off relationships then trash the scumbags

Chapter 198: 198: Show off relationships, then trash the scumbags (see additional information Chapter 198: 198: Show off relationships, then trash the scumbags (see additional information Qiao Nanchu laughed, “Qiao City, you think too highly of yourself.”

Qiao Shenxing, “…”

Whose brat is this, so asking for a beating?

Qiao Nanchu stood up, “Anything else to say? If not, I’m leaving.”

Qiao Shenxing told him to wait and said, “In a few days, I will transfer Bai Yang’s household registration to our family.”

This was Wen Ya’s idea.

This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.

“I have no objections,” Qiao Nanchu said indifferently, crossing his arms and looking at his father with an expression that said even the lord of heaven couldn’t control him, “If you bring her in here, I’ll move out.”

Qiao Shenxing glanced at him.

He walked to the door, then stopped and added fuel to the fire, “Oh, and tell your wife to stop arranging blind dates for me. I’m not really keen on getting on the train first and buying the ticket later, so don’t push me.”

With that, he turned and left.

Qiao Shenxing unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and cursed with a laugh, “Son of a bitch.”

Qiao ‘Son of a bitch’ Nanchu went upstairs.

Without knocking, he stood at the door and sent a text message. After waiting for a while, Wen Baiyang came to open the door.

Her expression was very anxious, and she signed quickly, asking him, “Did your father hit you?”

Qiao Nanchu shook his head with a smile, pulled her into the room, and closed the door, saying, “Qiao City doesn’t like to get physical.”

That’s good then.

She continued signing, asking, “Did he scold you then?”

Qiao Nanchu seemed in a good mood, his eyes always smiling, “Worried about me?”

Wen Baiyang nodded, very concerned about him.

“No,” he said lightly and casually, “Those literate folks neither hit nor curse. They can’t beat someone rough like me.”

Wen Baiyang corrected, “You’re not rough.”

He laughed again.

She couldn’t smile, feeling guilty, “I’m sorry.”

“For what are you apologizing?”

“I’ve dragged you down.”

She had just finished signing when he grabbed her hands and didn’t let go, playing with her fingers, “It wasn’t for nothing.”

Wen Baiyang didn’t understand what he meant.

“I have a purpose,” his eyes full of lights, all focused on her, he said, “Aren’t I pursuing you?”

A nineteen-year-old girl, inexperienced in love, flushed and became flustered with just a few heartfelt words.

It was eleven o’clock at night.

The cold was severe outside, a thin layer of frost formed on the window. The room was quiet, playing a recording with a lot of static.

“That was you outside the door that day, wasn’t it?”

“Did you see everything? Did you?”

It was Luo Changde’s voice.

There was a thud, and then no more sound.

Luo Qinghe rewound the recording and listened again, “Hmm, there was another person, Luo San. What exactly did he see that made Luo Changde so guilty?”

Luo Qinghe turned off the recording, and at that moment, there was a noise from downstairs.

She stood up, left the room, and following the footsteps, she saw Luo Changde who had just come upstairs in the stairwell.

“Dad.”

Luo Changde looked up, his expression startled for a moment.

She asked, like any ordinary daughter, “Where have you been, coming back so late?”

Luo Changde casually replied, “Went for a few drinks.” He was testing her.

“I thought you had gone to discuss some urgent matter.”

“What urgent matter could I have?” Luo Changde directly passed her and headed to the upstairs room.

Avoiding discussion, acting guilty.

Luo Qinghe stood briefly, then returned to her room. Right then, her secretary, Shen Yue, called, “Younger Luo,” he said, “Mr. Luo has contacted people in the prison to arrange for a meeting with Peng Xianzhi as soon as possible.”

Another recording was indeed in his hands.

He was still guarding against her.

He feared that any disturbance would suffice for him to push her out.

Her fingernails tapped on the table as she pondered for a moment before instructing Shen Yue over the phone, “Go check where the gardener who escaped from the fire back then is now.”

Luo Changde’s room doors and windows were tightly locked.

He walked into the bathroom, made a call, and asked, “What did Peng Xianzhi say?”

On the other end of the phone was someone from Western Prison.

He said, “Peng Xianzhi refused the meeting, he won’t see anyone.”

Luo Changde immediately asked, “Can’t it be enforced?” He needed to meet Peng Xianzhi as soon as possible.

The man on the phone indicated it was difficult and explained, “It must be Qiao Family’s Fourth Young Master who has alerted the higher-ups, we have to follow the rules.”

Qiao Nanchu had worked in the Criminal Intelligence Department for a few years, and his words carried weight with the police.

Lacking an immediate solution, Luo Changde said, “Think of another way.” He hung up and then dialed another number, “Shen Yue.”

“Mr. Luo.”

Isn’t Shen Yue Luo Qinghe’s secretary?

Yes.

However, in this day and age, absolute loyalty had become exceedingly rare. Most people were loyal to—interests.

Luo Changde asked him, “Where did Qinghe go tonight?”

“He went to meet someone.”

“Who?”

Shen Yue replied, “Professional errand runner Z.”

Luo Changde understood. Indeed, she had obtained it too.

Downstairs, the light in the study was still on.

Chen Li placed a document bag on the table: “I’ve already had someone verify it, it’s the original.”

Luo Huaiyu glanced briefly inside the document bag, then made a phone call: “Transfer the final payment.” After saying just that, he hung up and looked up to instruct, “You can leave now.”

Chen Li left the study.

As he reached the doorway, he closed the door, looked around, saw no one, then stood in place, slightly leaning forward, his ear close to the crack of the door.

Inside the study, Luo Huaiyu was speaking on the phone.

“We can’t keep him.” he said, “Find a way to get rid of him.”

Thereafter, there was no further sound.

Chen Li stood there for a while longer before leaving Luo Mansion, stepping out of the villa, into his car, and dialed a number saved as—Big Ghost.

Chen Li: “It’s me.”

Oh, it’s Black Impermanence’s little ghost.

Lord Black Impermanence asked him, “Did you deliver the item to Luo Huaiyu?”

“I did.”

Lord Black Impermanence then asked, “Any suspicions?”

Chen Li: “None.”

The original?

In this lifetime, it’s impossible to give the original. Everything is reproduced from a copy; whether deceiving two people or three, each deceit is still deceit.

And considering Luo Huaiyu’s background and calculations were still unknown, Zhou Xufang simply decided to use his plan against him, giving him the recording and waiting for him to reveal his true colors.

Thinking too far ahead.

Another crucial matter, Zhou Xufang seriously asked, “Has the final payment been transferred?”

Luo Huaiyu was a big shot.

Thus, Zhou Xufang had demanded an even higher price.

Chen Li said, “It’s been transferred.” His tone anxious, he asked, “I’ve done everything as you said, when will you give me the item?”

The item he referred to was the stone that hit Peng Zhongming, the evidence of his manslaughter.

Of course, Zhou Xufang wouldn’t give it to him, feigning mystery with a raspy voice: “Wait until Lord Black Impermanence no longer needs a little ghost.”

For now, she needed him to continue as an inside man.

Chen Li, being blackmailed by her, couldn’t resist and had to cooperate: “Luo Huaiyu just found someone, seems like he wants to eliminate someone.”

“Anything else?”

“Didn’t hear anything else.”

Zhou · Lord Black Impermanence · Xufang was very pleased: “Good, keep up the good work. As long as you do well, Lord Black Impermanence will surely not shortchange you.”

Lord Black Impermanence was in a good mood because he had tricked three bad people tonight and had won quite a bit at Mahjong. With more money in his pocket, he was very happy.

Chen·Little Ghost of Lord Black Impermanence·Li: “…” This feeling of being stuck on a thief’s ship with no way off!

Meanwhile, after hanging up the phone with the little ghost, Lord Black Impermanence went to tell Jiang Zhi, “Luo Huaiyu seems to be up to no good again.”

Jiang Zhi had just come out after washing his hair and threw the towel to Zhou Xufang to dry his hair, his eyes still damp from the bathroom moisture, “He must be planning a murder to silence someone.”

Zhou Xufang tiptoed to dry his hair, “Silence who?”

Jiang Zhi guessed, “Maybe Peng Xianzhi.”

“Is he silencing someone for Luo Qinghe?”

Jiang Zhi, seeing her on tiptoes and fearing she might tire, bent down, brought his head closer, and his hands mischievously landed on her waist, causing her to giggle.

He said, “Not necessarily.” He supported her waist and lifted her higher so she could stand on the back of his feet, “Maybe he’s also done something shameful.”

At midnight, clouds covered the moon, making it the darkest hour outside.

The person in bed slept restlessly, furrowing her brow and clenching her fists outside the blanket, her fingertips curling slightly as she struggled faintly.

She was trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake up.

In the dream, an old and deep voice called out.

“Luo San.”

“Luo San.”

With a bang, the attic door was pushed open, and all the light outside flooded in, shining on the shivering small bundle on the wooden bed.

Tap, tap, tap, tap…

The sound was getting closer; she raised her eyes and first saw a walking stick, and then, higher up, a pair of hands covered in age spots.

“Come here,” he beckoned.

She was terribly frightened and shrank into the corner of the bed.

He walked closer with the support of his walking stick, “Aren’t you supposed to talk? Why don’t you call out?”

She dared not look up again, hugging her knees, her voice trembling, “Grand… grandfather.”

The old man bent down to look at her, his eyes cloudy. He stretched out his hand, saying, “Don’t hide.”

She shrank back, “No, I can’t.”

Her voice was rough and hoarse, stumbling over her words.

“Be good, Luo San.”

The hands covered in age spots reached toward her…

Zhou Xufang suddenly opened her eyes and screamed, “Jiang Zhi!”

Jiang Zhi woke up instantly, getting up and going to her side, “I’m here, I’m here, what’s wrong?” He turned on the light and saw her head drenched in sweat, her hands clutching at the blanket still trembling; he bent down and hugged her, “Were you having a nightmare?”

“Yes.” She leaned on his shoulder, gasping deeply, her back sweat-soaked and chillingly cold.

He held her tight, kissing her brow, eyes, and face repeatedly, soothing her, “What did you dream about?”

She shook her head as if she had been crying, her eyes rimmed with red, her hands tightly clinging to his clothes, “I don’t know, I forgot as soon as I opened my eyes.”

Her face was pale, still not recovered.

Jiang Zhi wiped the sweat from her forehead with his pajama sleeve, “Then let’s not think about it.”

She stopped thinking about it, but her heart still trembled, thumping like drums, ringing in her ears; she felt uneasy and held tightly onto Jiang Zhi’s waist, burying herself into his embrace.

“Jiang Zhi.”

Jiang Zhi stroked her head, “Hmm?”

“Don’t sleep on the floor tonight, sleep holding me.”

Since his sleeping habits were so bad, always kicking, she had him sleep in the guest room, but he refused to sleep separately, saying he would move to the floor once she was sound asleep.

It was only his first night on the floor, and she already had a nightmare.

He held her as they lay down, “Alright, I’ll sleep holding you.”

She leaned on him, clinging tightly.

“Fang Bao.”

“Hmm.”

He called again, “Fang Bao.”

She looked up, “Hmm.” The dim yellow light from the bedside lamp shone in her damp eyes.

“Fang Bao.”

She asked, “Why do you keep calling me?”

Jiang Zhi gently stroked her hair that rested on his shoulder, “Call out a few more times, and you will be able to dream of me.” He lowered his head and kissed her eyes, “When I enter your dreams, you won’t be afraid anymore.”

She closed her eyes, with only Jiang Zhi’s voice left in her ears.

“Fang Bao.”

“Fang Bao.”

“…”

Indeed, Jiang Zhi was in her dream.

In the dream, he was still the slender and handsome young man.

The young man had a bad temper, shouting outside her door, “Luo San!”

“Luo San!”

Luo San opened the door.

Back then, Luo San was not good-looking, skinny and dark, with no hair, just a little bald boy.

The young man was angry with her, talking loudly, “Did you steal the braised pork again?!” He had just arrived at the Luo Family and heard the servants saying that Luo San had been beaten again.

They said that Luo San had sticky fingers, always stealing from the kitchen.

She still couldn’t read social cues well, not realizing how angry he was, still naively rummaging through cupboards, and from one she pulled out a wrapped parcel, layers of paper around a piece of braised pork.

She held it in both hands, offering it to him.

The young man already frail, got so exasperated he could barely breathe and said gruffly, “I don’t like meat!”

And to her, braised pork was the finest thing, for in her past fourteen years, her biggest concern had been basic sustenance; she had never seen better and thought braised pork was the best there was.

So he didn’t like it, after all.

She then asked, “What do you like?”

Her voice even rougher than many boys going through puberty.

The young man, still angry, turned his head away, and after a long while awkwardly muttered, “Foxtail grass, I like foxtail grass.”

Of course, he didn’t really like foxtail grass, but with such a big villa like the Luo Mansion, only that grass was available which wouldn’t get her hit if she moved it.

His tone turned serious, he earnestly told her, “Next time I come, just pick foxtail grass for me, and don’t steal any meat.”

She assumed he really liked foxtail grass, immediately nodding her head, “Okay.”

She would pick a huge bunch of foxtail grass for him.

The young man scolded her, “Idiot.”

She still grinned, a silly smile that even made him laugh; he squinted his eyes and told her, “Only I can call you idiot, others can’t, got it?”

She nodded.

She understood; when he called her an idiot, it was his way of being kind, he just didn’t use sweet words.

He was the kindest and best person to her in this world.

“If someone else calls you an idiot, just place some foxtail grass on top of the fence. I’ll see it and come to find you, then you tell me who called you an idiot.”

She looked at him, her eyes clear and simple, filled only with his image.

The young man poked her head, “Got it?”

Her face darkened, a smile, her teeth especially white, “Yeah, got it.”

Her voice wasn’t pleasant-sounding; when alone, she would still speak to him with her gruff voice.

The young man asked her, “You can speak, so why play mute?”

“Aunt Xiu said I can’t talk.”

The young man scolded her again, “Yet you still talk to me.”

She laughed foolishly, “Because it’s you.”

The young man hummed, but his eyes curved into a smile, “I’m going home now.” He turned to leave, then turned back, “Aren’t you giving me that meat?”

“Oh.” She wrapped up the meat, “Here.”

The grease had seeped into the paper, no telling whether the paper was clean or not. The young man, a bit of a clean freak, deplored it, furrowing his brow as he pinched a corner of the paper bundle.

“I’m leaving.”

He walked away.

She ran after him, following as he walked, stopping when he did, unstoppable, right up to the gate.

The young man looked back, waving her off, “Don’t send me off anymore, go back.”

She continued to follow.

He scolded her, “Idiot.”

Yet that ‘idiot’ still clung to the iron fence, waving energetically at him.