Chapter 163

First, let's talk about Little Wang. Everything went too smoothly. As soon as he entered, he saw a standard version of Yan Xishan's father, an elderly man with a lean build. He was dressed in white linen clothes, his skin was a deep brown, and he looked neat and tidy. He was probably in his early seventies, with white hair, eyebrows, and beard, and his eyes were smiling.

"Yan Wangqi?"

"Uncle Maliye?"

"Why am I being quarantined? The staff said there's some kind of infectious disease going around, so they won't let me out. But I feel perfectly fine! Look at me, I'm in great shape. Check out my arms, my legs." Uncle Maliye said, patting his body all over.

But no, he was old, and before he could finish, he cramped up and almost fell onto the bed.

There was a reason Little Wang was in such a hurry.

This well-known cotton farmer from Kashgar was named Maliye. He was a cotton farmer who had lived in Kashgar for generations.

The Maliye family was very large. He had five older brothers, though they had all passed away, four sons, and over twenty nephews.

Not only did he own hundreds of acres of cotton fields, making him a true cotton magnate, but he had also been the president of the Kashgar Cotton Association. Hua Country's cotton production ranks second in the world, and Kashgar is a major cotton-producing region. The cotton produced there is famous for its high quality both domestically and internationally. Maliye played a significant role in this, as he had received many government awards for his years of cotton farming and held a high reputation and prestige in the Kashgar region. During his time at the association, he had always been diligent and focused on improving cotton quality, never slacking off.

Now, both the cotton fields and the association were managed by Maliye's eldest son.

Logically, such an elderly man shouldn't be traveling alone to conduct business.

The reason he was traveling alone was that the entire family had been approved to travel abroad together due to religious reasons.

The old man was getting on in years and rarely got to see his children and grandchildren. Moreover, his views were quite different from those of his children and grandchildren. For example, his eldest son liked to show off and often went to parties and dinners, but he didn't pay much attention to cotton quality, which Maliye disapproved of.

His nephews and grandchildren mostly neglected the cotton fields and moved to the city to buy cars, houses, and smartphones, pursuing urban lifestyles. This also displeased Maliye, and whenever he saw them, he liked to lecture them.

This trip to the capital, his eldest son had rented a bus, planning to take the whole family on a road trip to see the beautiful landscapes of their country. Maliye had traveled all over the country in his youth and wanted to have a good talk with his grandchildren on the way, telling them stories from his younger days. But the night before they were set to leave, he overheard a few of his young grandsons complaining that they wouldn't enjoy the trip with their grandfather around, as he always nagged and scolded them, which they found very annoying.

It's easy to imagine how much of a blow this was to the old man, who had worked hard all his life to raise his children and grandchildren.

So, the business trip was just an excuse. The real reason he didn't take the bus and instead flew to the capital ahead of time was to avoid his sons.

However, as soon as he arrived, the old man was quarantined at the Bayi Hotel for three whole days. The plane he was supposed to take had already left the capital half an hour ago.

Maliye pointed at his watch and said, "Our plane has already been delayed by half an hour."

"I really didn't mean to, Uncle Maliye. I was quarantined for the past two days and couldn't get out," Little Wang quickly explained.

He was also very anxious because this old man's trip abroad was very difficult to arrange.

The whole family had applied to the government for permission to travel abroad due to their faith, going through a lengthy approval process to secure a special flight.

With the old man stuck at the Bayi Hotel, the rest of his family couldn't leave either.

They were probably searching everywhere for him right now and might soon arrive at the Bayi Hotel.

Since they were traveling abroad for religious reasons, the delay caused by Little Wang could potentially lead to ethnic tensions and conflicts. The military district was a sensitive area, and with the current timing, any mishap could put Yan Peiheng and the military district in a crisis.

Natural disasters are hard to predict, but Little Wang wanted to do his best to divert the crisis away from the military district.

He had already borrowed a car from Chen Meilan's factory and parked it outside. He needed to get the old man out of there as soon as possible.

No time for small talk, he pulled out a photo and handed it to the old man: "Is this person you?"

The old man's luggage was already packed and ready to go, but when he saw the photo, he sat down again. After a long while, he pointed at Yan Baogui and said, "He is Yan Baogui." Then he pointed at Yan Xishan's father: "He should be called Yan Fugui."

Little Wang had prepared for this for a long time and was well-prepared.

At this point, he was already overjoyed, but he suppressed his excitement and pulled out a magazine, handing it to the old man: "Uncle Maliye, take a look at this. This is Yan Fugui's son."

It was a magazine from a few years ago that exposed scandals about someone named Bao Bao. There was a photo of Yan Xishan wearing glasses without lenses, dressed in a suit, with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. Next to the photo was a bold caption: "Hooligan pretending to be refined."

The old man looked at his own photo, then at the magazine, his gaze alternating rapidly.

His hands trembled for a while, and then he looked up at Little Wang, his face filled with disbelief.

But the old man didn't say anything directly. After hesitating for a while, he asked, "Yan Wangqi, can I meet this person?"

Little Wang could tell from the old man's tone that he was probably suspicious that Yan Xishan was his son.

"Your children and grandchildren are probably looking for you right now. I can let you talk to him on the phone. Take it slow, grab your cane, and let's walk and talk. I'll take you to the airport first," Little Wang said.

The old man's family was likely searching everywhere for him, so they had to get him back quickly.

Otherwise, if they found the Bayi Hotel, there might be trouble today.

As they walked, Little Wang had to get Yan Xishan to talk to the old man.

Time was of the essence, so they talked while walking.

Yan Xishan's phone was picked up, and Little Wang immediately said, "Uncle Xishan, I've met someone here. I think he's your real father."

Yan Xishan was silent for a moment and then gave Little Wang three words: "You're crazy."

Little Wang quickly said, "Really, people in the village have been saying that your father was a cotton spinner, and it turns out..."

Yan Xishan hung up the phone.

Little Wang helped the old man out the door, intending to help him walk, but Maliye, who had spent most of his life in the cotton fields, was still brisk despite his age. He walked so fast that Little Wang could barely keep up.

He tried calling Yan Xishan again, but the call was cut off. He called again, and it was cut off again.

When they reached the second floor, Little Wang suddenly realized something.

At over forty years old, hearing someone claim you have a real father would make anyone think the person was crazy.

Moreover, with Yan Xishan being so greedy and snobbish, would he want a father who was a cotton farmer?

Little Wang quickly sent a text message: "Your biological father is a cotton magnate from Kashgar, owning hundreds of acres of cotton fields."

After sending the text, Little Wang started counting down. By the time he reached three, Yan Xishan's call had already come in.

Immediately, Little Wang handed the phone to Uncle Maliye and went downstairs.

Earlier, he had noticed that to leave openly, he needed a badge with the words "Community Model" on it. Such badges were on the table at the entrance, and since the security guard was not around, Little Wang quickly grabbed two for himself and prepared one for the old man, planning to go back upstairs and help Uncle Maliye down.

But just then, he saw a bus pull up. First, a chubby version of Yan Xishan got off, followed by an even fatter one, then another who was three times as fat as the first two. One after another, a group of burly men got off the bus.

Not only was Little Wang stunned, but even the security guard at the entrance, who was tying a rope, was stunned.

The guard stepped forward, ready to ask something, but one of the extremely fat "Yan Xishans" blocked the guard's path, coldly staring at him.

It happened so fast that Little Wang had already walked out the door, smiling and saying, "Are you here to look for Uncle Maliye? He's upstairs. I'll get him right away!"

The old man was still on the phone on the second floor.

Little Wang now went upstairs, helped the old grandfather down, and safely handed him over to his grandchildren. If he did this, today's incident wouldn't escalate into a conflict between ethnic groups.

Hurry up and help the old man downstairs.

But today's chaos was far from over. Just as Little Wang started climbing the stairs, he looked up and saw Little Lang and someone else struggling and rolling down from the third floor. The other person suddenly broke free from Little Lang, raised his hand toward Uncle Maliye, and was about to push him. If Uncle Maliye fell, he would tumble down from the second floor and land face-first.

The group outside was ready to stir up a serious ethnic conflict at the Bayi Hotel.

Little Wang cupped his hands, pretending to support someone, and rushed forward.

...

Recalling earlier, when Little Lang just entered the room.

He was welcomed not only by a pair of sliding slippers but also by a room full of trash.

And ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‍a man lying on the bed holding a television.

Mike was 28 years old, exactly 8 years older than Little Lang. He wore a white tank top, washed-blue jeans, and was about the same height as Little Lang. His well-defined muscles showed that he hadn't slacked off on his workouts over the years, and his physique was truly impressive.

He lay on the bed, holding a television, lifting it up and down, as if he was... working out?

The room was so dirty that there was hardly any place to step. The blanket was stained with brown coffee spots, the pillowcase was hanging on the lamp, and the pillow was on the floor. As Little Lang took a step, the congealed cola on the floor stretched like silk under his foot. When he took another step, he stepped on something and looked down to see a torn packet of tomato sauce. The red liquid squirted out with a "biu" sound, resembling snot.

"Hua Country Special Forces?" Mike finally put the TV down, not gently, but by throwing it onto the floor.

Little Lang saw the screen crack and said politely, "Brother, my name is Yan Minglang."

"I know you. Hua Country Special Forces, right?" Mike said, sitting up. "You're the best kid in my parents' eyes, but you... you look a bit silly."

Although Little Lang's skin was dark, his features were delicate, and he still had a youthful innocence. Having been in the army all this time, he was very different from those who roamed the outside world. In Mike's eyes, who was always mixing with outsiders, Little Lang seemed a bit... dull.

Mike had already knocked off the small badge on Little Lang's chest. Not satisfied, he threw a beer can at him, hitting Little Lang's chest.

"Brother, don't throw trash around," Little Lang said politely again.

Mike snorted coldly and threw another beer can.

As the saying goes, "It's easy to change a mountain but hard to change one's nature."

Another saying goes, "Wearing fine clothes and not returning home is like wearing them at night."

Yan Jun had finally risen from being an assistant lecturer to a lecturer, which made him a university professor. If this happened in Hua Country, it would surely make many people envious.

Unfortunately, they had been expelled from Hua Country and had no chance of returning in their lifetime.

The children had dividends from the milk powder factory. Last year, one child received 30,000 yuan, and Chen Meilan sent the money overseas, distributing it among the three children. But the couple received nothing.

Mike was into rock music, but in this era, not all rock musicians could become stars. Most were addicts, drifters, or freeloaders. Mike was fortunate enough to be a freeloader.

Although Yan Jun had become a lecturer, his salary was still low. Liu Xiuying, due to the hardships she endured when she was young, was now plagued with illnesses and couldn't work. So the family was still very poor. When it came to all this, the couple's anger always turned toward Mike.

"Look at you, and then look at Yan Minglang. Both of you were in the army, but he succeeded, why couldn't you?"

"Do you know how harsh the conditions are in the Hua Country army? Yan Minglang could endure it, but you couldn't."

"Useless trash, good-for-nothing." Yan Jun would even shout at Mike when he was angry.

Mike was indeed a failure. He had given up a chance to attend West Point, believing he could achieve greatness through rock music. However, after seven or eight years, he hadn't even managed to secure a few proper performances. This trip to Hua Country came about because he had rewritten a popular song by a Hong Kong Heavenly King into English while in the United States. The reworked version didn't gain traction there, but the Heavenly King got wind of it and invited him to Hong Kong to perform at his concert.

He wasn't unwilling to visit his grandfather; it was just that he was so poor he couldn't even afford a plane ticket.

This opportunity to perform in Hong Kong was his chance to finally see his grandfather.

But he was also unlucky; as soon as he arrived, he was quarantined.

The concert in Hong Kong was crucial for Mike. If he missed it, his path to fame would be delayed indefinitely.

So no matter the reason for the quarantine, he couldn't accept it and had to leave.

Looking at Little Lang, he had only one thought: to escape from under the watchful eyes of this Hua Country Special Forces soldier.

In his mind, this wasn't just about chasing fame but also about challenging his parents' contempt and humiliating this seemingly proud Hua Country Special Forces soldier.

Little Lang had no idea what his brother was thinking. Like his father, Yan Zhao, he was someone who loved to keep things tidy.

Since he planned to stay for half a month, he had to clean up. He couldn't stand being in such a dirty room for even a moment.

Just then, the floor attendant was pushing a trash cart, cleaning the area. Little Lang borrowed a rag and mop, started cleaning from the table, then took off the bedsheets and pillowcases, replacing them with new ones.

He swept all the trash on the floor out, cleared it at the door, and handed it to the attendant. Then he took the old bedsheets and pillowcases into the bathroom, washed them clean, and hung them out on the balcony.

Throughout the process, he didn't say a word. After finishing, he looked at the tidy, clean, and refreshing room, sat down on the chair with his hands on his knees, and sat upright.

He could sit like this for fifteen days.

At that moment, Mike suddenly said, "I think I have a fever."

Little Lang immediately stood up. "Do you need medicine? I'll call the attendant to bring you some."

"No, no, I need a thermometer. I threw it under the bed. You come and get it." Mike said.

Little Lang had no suspicion and walked over, bending down and reaching under the bed.

"I don't see it..." he said, just as he raised his head, a blinding white mist hit him. Instinctively, he grabbed the object. Mike didn't fight back and grabbed his backpack, turned, and ran out, leaving a parting shot: "Seems like the Hua Country Special Forces aren't that great after all."

Yan Peiheng's guards had already been withdrawn, so there would be no obstacles outside.

Mike walked out, put Little Lang's "Street Model" badge on his chest, and wore a mask.

Now, he was a "Street Model," and even if he reached the main gate, there would be no obstacles.

But after just a few steps, someone grabbed him from behind: "Brother, obey the orders and go back."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Mike turned around and saw it was Little Lang, a bit surprised. His eyes were bloodshot, his brow furrowed, and he was still chasing him?

The riot spray contained capsaicin, onion extract, and other components. Although it wasn't a dangerous item, it could cause severe headaches, tears, and a burning sensation in the nose in a short period. The intense physiological pain was something normal people couldn't withstand.

Little Lang seemed to be in pain too, but he could still endure it and chase after him?

Mike delivered a fierce elbow strike to Little Lang's wrist and dashed toward the stairs.

But Little Lang followed closely, grabbing the back of his shirt. Mike turned and delivered a hook punch to his brother's jaw. Little Lang probably didn't expect his brother to hit so hard, and with the riot spray affecting him, his head was pounding, and his vision was blurry, so he was inevitably slower.

But he still grabbed Mike's clothes.

Enduring the constant flow of tears and the burning sensation in his nose, he stuck close to Mike, not letting him go.

Mike had to leave. Missing this performance opportunity could mean he would never become famous and would live in obscurity forever.

Or, deep down, he hated this 20-year-old boy who had always been held up by Yan Jun and Liu Xiuying as an example to humiliate him.

Was being in the Hua Country Special Forces really that great?

Did he know what kind of physical and mental strength it took to get into West Point?

As a special forces soldier, not only must one have 

quick physical reactions, but cunning and strategy are also part of the skill set. Little Lang had been defeated by him multiple times, no matter what tactics he used. This only proved one thing: Little Lang's abilities were lacking!

Little Lang was no match for him, let alone a real American soldier?

So, the resentment built up over the years from being belittled by his parents, the disdain for Little Lang, and the desire for fame—all these factors combined—led from an initial urge to escape, to fighting back in order to escape. Gradually, Mike began to truly beat up Little Lang.

Little Lang was just clutching his clothes, but Mike turned around and landed a punch directly on Little Lang's temple. Seeing Little Lang dodge, he suddenly jumped up, delivering a powerful elbow strike to Little Lang's shoulder, forcing him to let go.

Seeing an old man, Maliye, trembling as he walked and talked on the phone, Mike reached out and shoved him, wanting to push him aside to escape quickly.

At this moment, Little Lang was still at the corner of the third-floor staircase, separated from Mike by a turn.

Normally, after the pepper spray, punches, and elbow strikes, Little Lang should have been incapacitated.

Mike and Maliye were only separated by one step, and Mike could easily shove Maliye aside. But just as he was about to touch Maliye's shoulder, Little Lang grabbed the stair railing with one hand and leaped across, landing in an instant. Before Mike could react, a gust of wind swept by his ear—it was Little Lang's foot, landing a clean and decisive kick that sent Mike slamming into the wall.

Of course, Mike wasn't about to back down. He swung his backpack, but Little Lang deflected it with a wave of his hand.

With all his strength, Mike threw a punch aimed at Little Lang's nose. If it landed, Little Lang's nose would be broken, rendering him unable to fight. Mike also prepared a left hook, aiming for Little Lang's temple. That blow could cause serious brain damage, possibly even brain stem hemorrhage.

But Mike was wrong. Little Lang didn't dodge. Instead, he faced the attack head-on. Grabbing Mike's fist, he twisted it in a reverse lock, from fingers to arm, and then to the entire body. Little Lang gave this ruthless brother a lesson, showing him the true extent of the damage a Hua Country special forces soldier could inflict when they decided to fight back.

Of course, the happiest person was Little Wang. He reached out to support Maliye, who was holding a phone and sobbing, representing the unity of the nation. Maliye was safely in his hands.

Little Wang really wanted to shout: Yan Minglang, you're freaking awesome!