Chapter Seventy-One: I Want It Too, I Want It Too

A beauty in a gilded house? Sometimes, having good hearing isn’t necessarily a blessing. Right now, Lin Yang almost wished he were deaf, so he could have missed that mortifying remark from just now.

He did have the trappings of a man hiding away a beauty, but surely it required someone willing to let him do so! Glancing awkwardly at Zhang Qiqi, who was muttering to herself, he turned back to the road and continued driving, making sure to explain himself.

“It’s nothing, really—a distant cousin who sneaked out from home and is just staying here for a while. Besides, the villa is so spacious, with plenty of rooms. Aunt Qin, you really don’t need to worry yourself.”

Qin could only force a hum in response. As a woman, her intuition was always sharp. Even if Lin Yang spoke the truth and the girl was only a distant cousin, she was still a cousin whose eyes saw no one but Lin Yang.

Lin Yang knew all too well that Leng Nini had never been one for restraint. Hadn’t she just been poking her head out the window to greet them? Now, in no time at all, she’d spun around and was racing downstairs in her slippers.

When the guard at the door opened it and Lin Yang stepped inside, Leng Nini was already dashing over in her cartoon slippers. The moment the car door opened, Lin Yang barely had time to get out before she flung herself at him in a bear hug.

Then came a flurry of little fists raining on his chest, her lips pouting as she complained in a wounded tone, “You went out and didn’t even call for me! Made me sleep till noon—so unfair! Haven’t you noticed I’ve gotten chubbier lately?”

Lin Yang was speechless, muttering inwardly: “Seriously? You were asleep—was I supposed to wake you and wait around while you complained?”

Women! Always unreasonable. Whatever she says is always right when she’s happy, and everything you do is wrong when she’s not.

Noticing Su Qin and Zhang Qiqi exchanging knowing, amused glances, Lin Yang coughed awkwardly, gently prying Leng Nini off, and began to make introductions.

“Nini, let me introduce you. These two lovely ladies—one is my childhood nanny, Aunt Qin; and this is her daughter, Zhang Qiqi. And this—” he nodded to the girl clinging to his arm, “—is Leng Nini, my cousin.”

Leng Nini, for all her flamboyance, was still a well-mannered girl. Releasing Lin Yang’s arm, she straightened up and bowed politely. “Hello, Aunt Qin. Hello, Sister Qiqi.” She added sweetly, “Aunt Qin and Sister Qiqi are both so beautiful.”

Women—when they see other beautiful women, they can’t help but give a few words of praise. It was as if she’d become the perfect appetizer to open the conversation.

“Nini is even prettier—smooth and delicate, just like a porcelain doll. Makes you want to reach out and pinch her cheeks.” Zhang Qiqi was the first to speak. The moment she saw the girl before her, so much like those kawaii idols from a certain island nation, she felt an uncontrollable urge to pinch those cheeks. But since Nini had been clinging to Lin Yang, she’d missed her chance—until now. So, without hesitation, she reached out and gave Nini’s cheek a good pinch.

Nini broke into giggles, but she was never one to be taken advantage of. With a mischievous glint, she retaliated in kind, catching Zhang Qiqi completely off guard with a brazen move—her hand darted out and squeezed Qiqi’s chest.

“Ah!” Caught unaware, Zhang Qiqi couldn’t help but let out a gasp. She glared, half-embarrassed, at Nini, who’d cheekily grabbed her again, and muttered, “You can’t just grab there...”

Nini had only meant to tickle her, she swore! But Qiqi’s height outstripped hers, so what was meant as a tickle under the arm ended up, by unfortunate miscalculation, as a rather indecent assault.

Women love to compare, especially when it comes to beauty and figure. Nini was the petite, clingy, birdlike type who’d wrap her arms around a man’s neck for a kiss, while Qiqi stood tall and slender—even with Lin Yang at 1.8 meters, Qiqi still had to rise on tiptoe for him to meet her gaze.

By comparison, Qiqi clearly had the advantage—not just in height, but also in figure. With a golden ratio, over 1.65 meters tall, and a chest not less than a 36D cup, it was little wonder that Nini, whose own development was respectable, eyed her with open envy.

“So big—Sister Qiqi’s are so bouncy!” Nini blurted, with no sense of propriety. In any other company, among just women, such a remark would be harmless. But with Lin Yang, the only man present—and with his almost supernatural hearing—the effect was explosive.

Pfft! Lin Yang, leading the trio, nearly choked, spraying saliva, his steps faltering so badly he almost toppled into the withered grass by the roadside.

He’d already instructed the guards to carry the unconscious Zhang Zifeng into a first-floor bedroom. After a moment’s thought, to avoid unnecessary trouble, he decided the three floors would be divided: the first for the men, the second for the women, and the third—for the night’s mysteries.

“Yang, are you alright?” Nini asked with concern, then leaned over to whisper in Qiqi’s ear, “See? Didn’t I say so? Yang is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Even when I said that so vaguely, he heard—and understood—and look, he almost tripped!”

If not for those later comments, Lin Yang might have been touched and pulled Nini into his arms, thinking, “See? Only Nini cares about me, worries I’ll get hurt.” But those words were just too much.

“What? Now I’m a wolf? You’re the one saying such shameless things—how could I not think of that? ‘Bouncy’—what man wouldn’t catch the meaning? And you even grabbed Qiqi like that. I’m not an idiot. Besides, I just slipped, that’s all. Twisted my ankle, lost my balance, that’s it. Who tripped? You’re exaggerating the story!” Lin Yang fumed inwardly, shooting a disgruntled look at the grinning Nini.

Nini’s uninhibited, bold personality had Su Qin and Zhang Qiqi giggling, their glances toward Lin Yang now tinged with a teasing suggestion: you really are a wolf.

Defeated, Lin Yang could only shrug, lower his head, and stride forward, pointedly clapping his hands over his ears—the better to hear nothing and know no peace.

“Yang, it’s done.” As soon as they stepped into the living room, the two guards who had just carried Zhang Zifeng in came to the entrance to greet him, their manners respectful.

“Thank you. You can get back to your duties. If I need you, I’ll call.” Lin Yang replied with a smile, without a hint of arrogance. As they were about to leave, he suddenly remembered something, pulled a bank card with at least fifty thousand yuan from his pocket, and tossed it generously to one of the guards. “Xiao Tao, split this between you all. Don’t skimp on food and drink while you’re here.”

“Thank you, Yang!” The two guards, having heard of Lin Yang’s reputation, beamed with delight, their voices ringing with sincerity.

When Fierce Tiger first assigned them here, none of them were thrilled—after all, last time, of the five who came, four died and one was gravely injured and still in the hospital. Though Lin Yang had paid generous compensation, they still valued their lives. But after two days, their opinions changed. Even without Fierce Tiger’s orders, they would have volunteered to guard the villa’s new master.

It wasn’t Lin Yang’s authority that won them over, but his sincerity. He treated them all as brothers, never putting on airs as the titular master. Their accommodations were as good as his own, and with three men to a spacious room, plenty of food and drink, and Lin Yang’s camaraderie, they were soon utterly loyal.

Once the guards had left, Zhang Qiqi, who had lived in straitened circumstances for years, couldn’t help a flicker of envy and a new respect for her one-time confidant. “He’s changed. The Lin Yang I once knew has grown up,” she thought.

On the way over, Lin Yang had already prepared ample support for Su Qin’s family, but hadn’t had a chance to give it. Now that Zhang Zifeng was settled, he pulled out a bank card and pressed it into Su Qin’s hands, refusing her attempts to decline. He also slipped a postal savings card worth no less than thirty thousand yuan to Zhang Qiqi.

“I can’t accept this. You’ve already agreed to help Feng recover—taking your money too would be shameless,” Su Qin protested, trying to return the card.

“She’s right, Yang. You’ve done more than enough for us already. We can’t take your money,” echoed Zhang Qiqi, as stubborn and principled as her mother.

Only after prolonged coaxing did the two finally accept, but only on the condition that it was a loan to be repaid in the future—Lin Yang didn’t mind at all.

Everyone received something—except Leng Nini. The little minx was having none of it. She darted in front of Lin Yang, hands on her hips, lips jutting in a pout, grumbling, “What about me? No fair, I want one too!” Her tone shifted from bossy to pleading, impossibly endearing.