Chapter Forty-Six: Indulging Her

Facing Xu Juan’s wild, almost deranged outburst, Lu Hao showed no intention of indulging her.

With a resounding thud, Lu Hao delivered a kick squarely to Xu Juan, sending her sprawling to the ground.

“Xu Juan, you’d better show me some respect. Whatever we were before, that’s over now,” he said coldly. “If I hear you insult me again, you won’t get off so easily next time.”

Turning to Uncle Wang, Lu Hao gestured for him to leave. “Uncle Wang, today’s matter is settled. Let’s go.”

Uncle Wang eyed Lu Hao with trembling uncertainty; the turn of events had far exceeded his expectations. Yet Lu Hao’s commanding presence gave him a measure of confidence—at least now he didn’t have to worry about the Sun family seizing his ancestral home. The price they had offered before was an insult, treating his house as nothing more than a ramshackle hut. He’d felt the loss deeply.

Just as the two were about to leave, the Sun family’s steward, flustered by the unexpected defeat, lost his composure. Not only had his young master failed to resolve the issue, even his girlfriend had been beaten—and Chang Wei, too, had been killed. How could he possibly swallow his rage?

Pointing a trembling finger at Lu Hao’s back, the steward let loose a stream of curses. “You filthy bastard! How dare you kill our Chang Wei! Young Master, you must avenge him! Chang Wei was murdered by this man’s tricks—no matter how I tried, I couldn’t stop him!”

At these words, Sun Wenguo’s expression darkened. Chang Wei had been his faithful hound for years; he’d grown rather fond of the beast. Hearing of Chang Wei’s fate, his fury only mounted. He strode over to his fallen companion and, sure enough, his prized Czech wolfdog lay lifeless.

“How dare you kill my dog! Lu Hao, I’ll see you dead! I’ll have your entire family pay for this!” Sun Wenguo’s eyes were bloodshot as he pointed at Lu Hao’s retreating figure.

“What did you say? I dare you to repeat that!” Lu Hao, who had been on his way out, suddenly turned, his gaze frigid and murderous as he stared down Sun Wenguo.

Sun Wenguo, cowed by the look in Lu Hao’s eyes, instantly fell silent. He could tell from that glare alone that Lu Hao truly meant to kill him—especially when his family was mentioned. That, apparently, was the young man’s weakness; perhaps it could be exploited in the future.

But before he could dwell on it, Lu Hao was upon him. With a sharp crack, Lu Hao’s palm struck Sun Wenguo’s face.

Stunned, Sun Wenguo reeled from the blow.

“That slap,” Lu Hao said icily, “is for insulting me.”

He struck again, another harsh slap.

“And this is for all the times you’ve bullied others and set your vicious dog on people. Consider it retribution for your victims.”

Unbeknownst to Sun Wenguo, Lu Hao had slipped a silver needle between his fingers; as he struck, the needle pierced a pain point on Sun Wenguo’s face. This particular spot would cause recurring, relentless pain—a suitable punishment for someone who stole other men’s wives and attacked from the shadows.

Sun Wenguo howled in agony, collapsing to his knees, his face burning as if it were on fire.

Lu Hao looked down at him coldly. “If you have a grudge, Sun Wenguo, bring it to me! I, Lu Hao, will not fear you!”

Soon after, Lu Hao led Uncle Wang back to his courtyard. After a brief conversation, Uncle Wang made it clear: if Lu Hao could help him safeguard his ancestral home, he would gladly rent it out for use as a clinic. For Wang De, if his family’s house could serve the villagers as a place of healing, he would feel he had honored his forebears.

Lu Hao quickly drafted a rental agreement with Wang De and paid the rent. Within two or three days, after the medicinal herbs and medical equipment arrived, the clinic was ready to open.

Lu Hao’s opening ceremony was quietly understated—no gongs, no fireworks, just the simple hanging of a bright red sign bearing the words:

Qinglong Clinic.

With the newly refurbished, elegant courtyard as its backdrop, the place looked less like a humble village clinic and more like the retreat of some distinguished figure seeking solace from the world.

As Qinglong Clinic opened its doors, several high-profile guests arrived. Among them were Zhao Qiang, director of the First People’s Hospital, along with several of his top experts and professors; the regional executive director of the special medical division from Song Group, accompanied by Song Xueqi’s secretary; as well as Zhang Qingfan and Sister Chu from the Blue Rose, whom Lu Hao had previously visited.

One after another, Rolls-Royces, Maybachs, and other luxury vehicles lined the dirt road outside the courtyard, drawing the attention of the entire Peach Blossom Village.

Such a spectacle was unprecedented—only once before, at the grand wedding of a Sun family member, had the villagers seen anything remotely similar. That time, Sun Wenguo’s cousin had married, and the family patriarch, Sun Linhai, had used his business connections to assemble a parade of luxury cars.

“Hey, what kind of fortune has blown into our village? Look at all these fancy cars!” someone exclaimed.

“Did you see that, Aunt Yu? That’s a Maybach—one of Mercedes’ most luxurious models, worth millions. And that other one, the big Rolls, is even pricier.”

“My goodness, what kind of important person has come to our village? It looks even grander than the last Sun family wedding!”

The villagers buzzed with excitement, speculating about what might have happened.

Among them was Lu Hao’s mother, Liu Xiulan, a well-known hub for village gossip, who was quick to catch wind of the news.

“Oh, these people are really blessed! Just think, millions for a single car—how many houses could you build with that? Our family can’t even come up with forty thousand,” she lamented, still fretting over her son’s marriage prospects. After all, Xu Juan had just walked off with a hundred thousand yuan, leaving not a cent behind—she still dreamed of the lost money, her heart bleeding every time she thought of it.

“What’s there to worry about? Everyone has their own fate. Our family is a little better off than yours, but not by much,” replied a plump, pockmarked woman beside Liu Xiulan.