Chapter 808: Wealth or Disaster

He Jingjing sighed and put the paintings back into the hidden compartment, meticulously checking for any traces left behind.

He Jun suddenly lifted her and spun around, laughing, “We did it, we succeeded!”

“You’ve celebrated enough,” He Jingjing teased.

“I still want to ‘celebrate’ more. Let’s go to the bedroom,” He Jun said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Behave yourself,” He Jingjing said, kissing him on the lips. “Let’s check the shop.”

They went to the front of the shop, and He Jingjing looked outside, noticing something odd. “Why are all the other pawnshops closed? Did something happen?”

“You’re overthinking. It’s going to rain soon, so they probably closed early. Let’s close too; there won’t be any customers at this hour.”

He Jingjing nodded in agreement. They pulled down the shutters, and she took a final look at the dark, silent street outside. She knew her nerves were due to their recent actions. She needed to stay calm and composed, showing no signs of guilt.

Suddenly, the phone in the shop rang, startling He Jingjing. Her heart pounded as He Jun answered, roughly saying, “Who is this? What nonsense are you spouting?”

“Let me,” He Jingjing said, taking the receiver.

A sinister voice, muffled as if speaking through cloth, came through the line, “I admire your audacity to go after Old Man Lie. You must be scared to death now, aren’t you?”

He Jingjing responded coldly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know very well. Some things you shouldn’t touch. They’ll rot your fingers, then your whole arm, and eventually you too, because they bring disaster to anyone but Old Man Lie.”

“Crazy!” He Jingjing hung up the phone.

“It’s just a scare tactic…” He Jingjing started to say to He Jun, but the unlocked shutters suddenly flew up. Several men in black suits walked in. He Jun shouted, “What do you want?”

As He Jun tried to block them, the leader, whose features resembled an impressionist painting, pointed at him, “Touch me, and you’ll lose your fingers!”

He Jun recoiled in fear.

The “Impressionist” made a gesture, and his men began ransacking the place, tossing everything off the shelves. He Jingjing frowned, her face icy.

They searched the shop and then moved to their living quarters, kicking open cabinets and flipping the mattress. The “Impressionist” even took some leftover sausage from the fridge and started eating. He pushed over a large vase, shattering it, and then stared sharply at He Jingjing.

“Boss, there’s nothing here!” one of his men reported.

The “Impressionist,” with sausage in hand, pointed at He Jingjing, “Why aren’t you worried? We’ve smashed your stuff, yet you show no distress. You must have recently won the lottery or come into some dirty money!”

He Jingjing felt like a knife was pressed to her throat. She responded in the calmest voice she could muster, “You’re working for Old Man Lie. We wouldn’t dare say a word against him.”

“You acknowledge Old Man Lie’s care, yet you repay him like this?” the “Impressionist” sneered.

He Jingjing knew they were bluffing. Spreading fear was their specialty. If they knew the truth, they wouldn’t be confronting them like this.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she insisted.

The “Impressionist” walked up to He Jingjing and licked a drop of sweat off her face, savoring it like fine wine.

“What are you doing?” He Jun yelled.

The “Impressionist” turned to He Jun, glaring. He Jun backed away fearfully. The “Impressionist” suddenly forced a kiss on He Jun, prying his mouth open with his tongue. Afterward, He Jun spat in disgust.

The “Impressionist” smacked his lips, “Your tongue is bitter. You’re nervous. Why?”

“Go to hell!” He Jun cursed, feeling utterly humiliated.

The “Impressionist” raised an eyebrow, “You want to do what to my mom? Then you’re my dad. Dad! Dad! Dad! The person I hate most is my dad, and now you’re my dad!”

He Jun looked mortified, not knowing how to handle the situation. He Jingjing said, “Please, calm down…”

“Shut up, woman!” the “Impressionist” roared, nearly shattering the glass with his voice. “Hit me, Dad, like when I was a kid. Hit me, please!” He leaned into He Jun, slapping himself.

“Alright, alright, I was wrong!” He Jun pleaded.

“Hit me, Dad! Hit me!” The “Impressionist” stared wildly.

He Jun, desperate, slapped him. The “Impressionist” staggered, spit out some blood, and said, “Harder, Dad!”

Now truly angered, He Jun kicked him in the stomach. The “Impressionist” fell, laughing, “Didn’t eat breakfast? Harder! If you don’t kill me in three moves, I’ll kill you!”

“You asked for it!” He Jun grabbed a shard and aimed it at the “Impressionist’s” neck. He Jingjing’s heart nearly stopped.

The “Impressionist” caught He Jun’s wrist, glaring, “You really meant to kill me!”

He headbutted He Jun, who staggered back, nose bleeding. He Jun cursed and punched back, but the “Impressionist” blocked it with his shoulder and threw He Jun to the ground.

Laughing like a hyena, the “Impressionist” circled He Jun and kicked a chair under his leg. He Jun, knowing what was coming, begged, “Please, don’t!”

“You’re my dad. A dad should take responsibility. If you can’t, what kind of dad are you?”

“I deserve to die, please don’t!”

“Boring!” the “Impressionist” raised his leg, ready to stomp.

Just then, a voice shouted, “Stop!”