Chapter Sixty-One: Four Lessons for You (Weekend Five-Chapter Marathon, Here’s the Fourth!)

When Yue Leiting saw Shen Jiangchuan being so courteous, he himself felt a bit uneasy and gestured for his men to bring Shen Xiang in from outside.

Shen Xiang’s arm was wrapped in bandages and a splint; his hand, broken by Yue Leiting, looked unlikely to heal any time soon. The bruises on his face were from Liu Hao—so swollen he resembled a pig’s head. Even walking was a struggle, every step taken with gritted teeth; it was clear his injuries were severe.

Shen Xiang stood trembling beside Shen Jiangchuan, his face marked by an inexplicable fear. I suddenly realized I might have underestimated Shen Jiangchuan. For someone as wild and unruly as Shen Xiang, not even Yue Leiting breaking his hand would be enough to truly terrify him. The fear upon his face came entirely from the man beside him.

What was it about Shen Jiangchuan—who appeared so calm and amiable—that could make someone as arrogant as Shen Xiang tremble in dread?

“Boss Yue broke your hand out of respect for me. If it weren’t for me, you’d be lying in a coffin right now.” Shen Jiangchuan looked up and spoke in an even, tranquil voice. “I brought you here today to teach you four lessons. I want you to remember them for the rest of your life.”

Shen Xiang nodded repeatedly, his expression blank. Even Yue Leiting seemed uncomfortable watching, and ordered someone to bring over a chair.

But Shen Xiang didn’t move—as if without Shen Jiangchuan’s permission, he dared do nothing at all.

“Your hand was broken by Boss Yue, but these ribs, here, were kicked in.” Shen Jiangchuan actually managed a smile, slowly raising his hand to press on Shen Xiang’s left side. “But these ribs over here were broken by me!”

Surprised, I glanced at Shen Jiangchuan. It was as if the person standing before him wasn’t even his own son. Even Yue Leiting was shocked; he hadn’t expected Shen Jiangchuan capable of such cruelty.

“Jiangchuan, why go to such lengths? He’s still young—let hardship teach him wisdom. Why, like a tiger, would you harm your own cub? How could you break his ribs?”

Shen Jiangchuan ignored Yue Leiting, pressing even harder on Shen Xiang’s right ribs, his face wearing that same benevolent, unsettling smile.

“Does it hurt?”

Beads of sweat gathered on Shen Xiang’s forehead, his mouth twisting in pain, his face on the verge of collapse.

“Yes, it hurts!”

“Good. It should hurt. I want you to remember this pain forever.” Shen Jiangchuan didn’t let go, but instead pressed harder. “The first lesson for you today: before you make enemies, choose them wisely. You jumped in without knowing your opponent’s strength—you broke your hand and a few ribs, and you should count yourself lucky. Not every enemy is as foolish as this one.”

Shen Xiang, teeth clenched, was in so much pain he couldn’t speak, only nodding incessantly.

After hearing Shen Jiangchuan’s last words, I understood that today was about far more than an apology. A man who could break his own son’s ribs was capable of absolutely anything.

Yue Leiting also picked up on the underlying message, raising his teacup and speaking coldly.

“Shen Jiangchuan, what are you getting at?”

Just then, Liu Hao burst in from outside, bloodied and holding a knife, shouting loudly.

“Boss, we’re surrounded! The place is crawling with Shen’s people. Our brothers at the door can’t hold them off—go now, I’ll cover you!”

Xiao Lianshan leapt up from the sofa and moved protectively to Yue Leiting’s side.

“Brother, you and Ting-ge go first—there’s no time, hurry!”

“There’s no escape. If he dared come alone, then he’s planned everything.” I sat on the sofa, watching Shen Jiangchuan coldly.

“Shen Jiangchuan, you bastard, are you tired of living, causing trouble on my turf?” Yue Leiting shoved Xiao Lianshan aside, snatched the knife from Liu Hao, and pressed it to Shen Jiangchuan’s throat.

Shen Jiangchuan didn’t even blink, nor did he spare Yue Leiting a glance. That eerily peaceful smile lingered on his face as he looked at me with meaning.

“It seems there is someone clever in this room.”

“You think I, Yue Leiting, am easily frightened? You and your son are in my hands now. Even if I’m to die, I’ll take you both with me.” Yue Leiting’s face was grim, his voice icy.

Suddenly, the sounds of fighting below fell silent. Liu Hao rushed to the window, went pale at the sight, and turned back. Yue Leiting’s men, knives in hand, were slowly backing away, none daring to advance. They looked at each other in confusion, paralyzed by fear.

“Boss… they… they’ve captured Qianling and Madam!” Liu Hao turned, his face ashen, panic in his voice.

Yue Leiting’s hand shook and the knife clattered to the floor. He ran to the window and saw Yue Qianling and Lanqing bound, gleaming knives at their throats. I rushed over too, my heart seizing at the terror on Yue Qianling’s face.

“Shen—Shen Jiangchuan, let’s talk, talk this out.” Yue Leiting had lost all his previous swagger; now his voice carried a trace of pleading. “I’m the one who broke your son’s hand—take it out on me, do whatever you want. Let them go, they have nothing to do with this.”

Shen Jiangchuan still wore that gentle smile, saying nothing, only glancing back at the man beside him holding the knife. Yue Leiting instantly understood and ordered everyone to drop their weapons, then rushed to the window and shouted,

“Drop your knives—no one moves!”

After exchanging glances, the men below trembled and put down their blades. In less than ten minutes, Shen Jiangchuan had gained control over all of Yue Leiting’s people without spilling a drop of blood.

“Jiangchuan, whatever you want, say it. Take it out on me. If you want revenge, break my hands and feet, I don’t care.” Yue Leiting hurried back to Shen Jiangchuan.

Shen Jiangchuan didn’t even glance at him. Instead, he turned to Shen Xiang.

“Now, your second lesson. Know yourself and know your enemy, and you’ll never lose. Everyone has a weakness. Find it, and even the most troublesome problems become easy. Sometimes, force won’t solve things—use your head. When dealing with a wolf, sometimes a sheep is more useful than a shotgun.”

Shen Xiang nodded, gasping for breath, looking for all the world like a child scolded by his father.

The men who’d stormed upstairs now herded everyone downstairs. I caught Yue Qianling’s gaze and shook my head gently, signaling her to stay calm. Seeing me, she seemed to collect herself, much calmer now.

Yue Leiting dared not look at Yue Qianling or Lanqing. Shen Jiangchuan was right—everyone has a weakness, and these two women were Yue Leiting’s. Lanqing’s eyes showed no fear; instead, when she saw Yue Leiting come down, a flicker of concern appeared.

Shen Jiangchuan sat calmly in his chair, Shen Xiang still trembling at his side. With the situation fully in hand, Shen Jiangchuan seemed to have lost all interest in Yue Leiting, even taking care to bring his own tea as he went downstairs.

“Who hit you?” Shen Jiangchuan sipped his tea carelessly. “Go and point out every single one—don’t let any slip through.”

His voice was light, but though Shen Xiang was covered in wounds, he didn’t hesitate. Laboriously, he walked among Yue Leiting’s men, identifying everyone who had struck him that day.

Shen Jiangchuan nodded in satisfaction, signaling to the people beside him with his teacup.

A gleaming knife was placed in front of Shen Xiang, its blade reflecting a cold light onto his face, but compared to the chill emanating from Shen Jiangchuan, it was nothing.

“These men all hit you. Here’s your third lesson: always repay a grudge. If you want others to fear you, words aren’t enough. You must be more ruthless and more merciless than anyone else. Remember: actions always speak louder than words.” Shen Jiangchuan took a casual sip of tea and said coldly, “Kill them.”

The three kneeling on the ground began to tremble with fear. Even I was shocked—life and death seemed as trivial to Shen Jiangchuan as snapping a flower stem, done without hesitation or reverence.

Shen Xiang had never dared defy his father, but his hand shook violently as he took the knife. He’d only ever been bold because of Shen Jiangchuan’s backing; for all his arrogance, he’d never killed before. Knife in hand, approaching the three kneeling men, he looked even more terrified than they did.

Shen Jiangchuan seemed to have expected this long ago. He strode over, seized Shen Xiang’s hand, and with a chilling voice said,

“If you don’t want to be bullied, you need others to fear you. You’re my son, Shen Jiangchuan’s son, and you still tremble holding a knife. With this kind of nerve, you dare stir up trouble everywhere?”

With Shen Jiangchuan guiding him, Shen Xiang’s hand—no longer trembling—rose slowly. Shen Xiang’s lips were quivering, but under his father’s grip, the knife was steady. Shen Jiangchuan looked as gentle as if he were teaching his son to ride a bicycle: one hand on his shoulder, one guiding his grip.

But now, the knife in Shen Xiang’s hand slowly plunged into the first man’s chest. Blood oozed down the blade, its crimson shocking to behold, reflecting onto Shen Xiang’s pale face. The man’s agonized screams seemed to ring through every corner of the gambling den. Yue Qianling, never having witnessed such a scene, nearly fainted with fright; Lanqing hugged her tightly, covering her eyes, though her own hands were icy cold.

Watching his own hand drive the knife fully into the other’s chest, feeling the blood trickle down to his fingers, Shen Xiang felt a chill from the depths of his soul. Shen Jiangchuan looked on as if admiring a work of art, giving Shen Xiang a satisfied pat on the shoulder.

“This is retribution. He hit you—that was the cause. You killed him—that is the effect.” Shen Jiangchuan sat back in his chair, smiling serenely as he addressed Shen Xiang.

Yue Leiting was no stranger to violence, but seeing Shen Jiangchuan calmly teach his son to kill, self-assured and unflinching, sent chills down his spine. When it came to ruthlessness, he knew without a doubt—compared to Shen Jiangchuan, he was far outmatched.