Chapter 170

Jiang's parents finally agreed to plant the new fruit tree saplings, while the village chief drank tea one sip after another, seemingly having spent a great deal of time persuading them.

Xia Bei was very busy. He was preparing to leave the day after Jiang's parents agreed, leaving the signing and other related matters to others.

He waved his hand without a trace, yet it brought many disputes to the Jiang family.

Upon hearing this news, the eldest and second uncles rushed to the Jiang family and said that the land distribution was unfair, as Jiang's father had received a larger share, and it should be redistributed.

The meaning is clear: they want a piece of the pie.

Jiang's father was allocated a large plot of land, but it was useless; he couldn't even build a house or grow rice or wheat.

Back then, my eldest and second uncles shamelessly said, "We only want these small places; the rest are yours."

Now they have the audacity to want to change locations again.

Xia Bei is right. When one person's interests are closely linked to the interests of the majority, the threads of fate weave everyone into an invisible community. Once those interests are violated, the majority of people are even more angry than the person directly involved.

Although he subtly inquired about Jiang's parents, they genuinely didn't know Xia Bei before.

The village chief would never let anyone ruin this business. He first told his wife about the profits involved, and the next day, while his wife was playing mahjong, he spread the word.

Does growing fruit trees require manpower? If more people grow the trees, will there be need for small shops and restaurants nearby? Will land prices in the vicinity rise?

Who wants their son, daughter, father, or mother to go out to work, leaving behind empty-nest elderly and children?

Soon, the information revealed by the village chief's wife while playing mahjong spread not only among the villagers: the fruit tree saplings were meant for the youngest son of the Jiang family, but now that someone was making a fuss, what if the higher-ups, fearing trouble, took the saplings back and planted them elsewhere?

An elderly man over 100 years old went to his eldest uncle's and second uncle's houses, where he made a scene, cursed, cried, and threw excrement...

Calling the police won't help; the centenarian doesn't have many days left to live, so he's not afraid at all.

A few days later, the eldest and second uncles stopped causing trouble, and the Jiang family was finally able to have a good New Year.

On New Year's Eve, Jiang You put on new clothes and went to his maternal grandmother's house to celebrate the New Year. At the same time, at the Xia family's ancestral home, "Young Master Xia's Ninety-Nine Escapes" was being staged.

The ancestral home is a typical Chinese-style building. The white-walled and black-tiled mansion is hidden among stacked stones and green bamboo. The upturned eaves sweep over the trumpet vine branches, and the bronze wind chimes hanging under the eaves sway gently. The whole is like a natural picture frame, cut into a flowing ink painting.

The wind whipped up the stray hairs on his forehead, and he loosened his grip. The black bag arced through the air and landed heavily on the sycamore tree outside the wall, startling a few sparrows that had been lying in wait.

Immediately afterwards, the boy bent down and gathered his strength, rushing towards the three-meter-high wall like an arrow about to be released from a bow.

His right hand, with its distinct knuckles, gripped the protruding blue brick on the wall with precision. The wrist bone stretched into a sharp arc the moment he exerted force, and his thin hoodie was lifted by the airflow, revealing a section of his lean waist and abdomen.

With her left leg dangling in mid-air, she curled up, her knee braced against the wall for leverage, while her right leg traced a smooth semicircle in the air, like a nimble feline, and she sat steadily atop the wall.

He looked down at the wall, his backpack lying on the ground next to the sycamore tree. There was no one there. Before he could even smile, a hand, as if in slow motion, picked up the backpack.

"Why do you insist on climbing over the wall instead of using the proper gate? How many times has this happened already? What do you think?" Xia Bei smiled and looked up at the top of the wall, behind which was a boy against a backdrop of blue sky and white clouds. "Little brother."

Xia Yan's expression immediately wilted when she saw Xia Bei. She glanced at the bodyguards not far away, clicked her tongue, and gave up on running away.