"It’s nothing, you didn’t break any bones. Just stay quiet and wait here. I’ll go in and grab the stuff, then we’ll leave immediately. I’ll take you to the hospital!"

But Feng Lan was surprisingly insistent. "No way! I’ve already been through so much. If I walk away with nothing, it’ll all have been for nothing! I’m fine, I’ll just limp along slowly!"

Hearing this from her hiding spot inside the house, Qin Jiao scoffed.

’I never would’ve pegged her as the tough-it-out type.’

Qin Jiao and her parents, Qin Zhonghui and Su Yun, were now in the living room. They had hidden themselves in different spots, just waiting for the pair to come inside. They each had a role: one to flip the lights, one to take pictures, and one to block their escape.

The main target was Feng Dayong. Of course, they hadn’t expected Feng Lan to show up as well. It just goes to show that money truly makes the world go ’round.

Feng Dayong pried the door open and ducked inside. He carefully swept his flashlight beam over a nearby cabinet, his eyes landing on the radio and television set on top of it. Feng Lan, meanwhile, was hunched over, remembering a tea set in the coffee table drawer that was supposedly quite expensive.

Of course, her real target was Qin Zhonghui and Su Yun’s bedroom. But then she got lucky: she spotted Su Yun’s watch on the coffee table and immediately stuffed it into her pocket.

Just then, the lights flicked on with a CLICK. A series of bright flashes followed—SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!—as someone took several photos.

Feng Lan was dumbfounded. Feng Dayong, however, spotted Qin Jiao holding the camera. His eyes burning with rage, he charged at her. "Give me the camera!"

Qin Jiao spun around and ran upstairs.

It all clicked for Feng Dayong. ’The family knew they were coming all along. This was a setup!’

But he was a thug at heart and didn’t care. All he had to do now was destroy the camera, and then he would teach this family a good, long lesson.

When Qin Zhonghui saw Feng Dayong chasing Xiao Jiao, he immediately rushed forward. But Feng Dayong sensed someone behind him. He whipped out a knife and swung it backward. In that split second, Qin Jiao—who had stopped at some point—took another picture!

That sharp CLICK was what alerted Qin Zhonghui, prompting him to jump back two steps and narrowly dodge the blade.

Feng Lan panicked. "Dayong, put the knife away! We’re all family here! We can just talk this out!"

Feng Dayong froze, panting heavily. He sounded like a broken bellows.

He said, "Fine. Just give me the camera, and we can all pretend tonight never happened."

Qin Zhonghui frowned. It was clear now: this Feng Dayong was a true desperado. Even though they outnumbered him, he couldn’t stand the thought of his wife or daughter getting hurt.

Feng Lan’s gaze swept over the faces of Qin Zhonghui and his wife; she could tell they were frightened. She limped two steps toward the staircase and said to Qin Jiao, "Xiao Jiao, be a sensible girl and give us the camera. It’ll be better for everyone if you do."

With the camera in one hand and her other arm hanging at her side, Qin Jiao asked quietly, "Is it?"

’He had to admit, Qin Jiao was stunning—the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. And so young, too, only eighteen or nineteen. A budding flower. He’d met her the last time he was here and hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since.’

’This time, he wasn’t just here to steal things. He wanted to steal a person, too.’

So Feng Dayong took two more steps up the stairs, knife in hand. He said with a leer, "Girlie, I could tell you were trouble from the start. So why don’t you let your uncle here teach you a proper lesson?"