Chapter 183 An Incompetent Son-in-Law
"That just proves you're all hopeless! You're hopeless! You were never meant to have a good life! Now that you see I'm doing well, that everything's going smoothly for you, you've remembered me? You've remembered you have an aunt who's a boss? You want a piece of the pie?"
She gave a cold laugh, her eyes devoid of any warmth.
"I'm not that fool I used to be, letting you boss me around and leech off my flesh! I won't let you touch me now!"
After saying that, she didn't turn around, grabbed her daughter Yang Yunmu's hand, and strode towards the store door.
Zhou Hongxue stood aside, giving his unfamiliar nephew a cold glance, his eyes devoid of any affection.
He spat fiercely, the spittle almost landing on Zhou Haiwei's face.
"Zhou Haiwei, how badly did your Zhou family harm my sister back then? You forced her to remarry, humiliated her, stole her dowry, and made her suffer half her life in misery! Now you want to acknowledge your family? Want to claim your inheritance? Asking me if I agree? Bah! No way!"
"You...you're my uncle?"
Zhou Haiwei was stunned, his voice hoarse.
"Pooh!"
Zhou Hongxue sneered, his face full of disdain.
“I’m not your uncle! From now on, you have no right to call me ‘uncle’! When you see me, just call me ‘Boss Zhou’! Don’t mention any relatives, I don’t acknowledge your family!”
Yang Qingshan immediately stepped forward, expressionless, grabbed Zhou Haiwei's arm, and dragged him out with force.
"Haiwei, let's go!"
"Don't come again, don't embarrass yourself anymore. You know perfectly well what your aunt means; she's seen through your character long ago and won't give you another chance. Coming back is just asking for trouble and making a fool of yourself!"
"You work honestly and diligently in the factory, earn a decent salary, have enough to eat and wear, and live a relatively stable life. Why do you always want to take crooked paths? Why are you always eyeing your aunt's shop? You have no sense of propriety, always gossiping and spreading rumors about your aunt behind her back, saying she's ungrateful and doesn't care about family ties! Isn't this just courting death? Do you think no one hears you? Do you think no one remembers you?"
Zhou Haiwei was roughly pushed out of the store. As soon as his foot touched the ground, his ankle buckled and he almost fell.
He staggered and hurriedly braced himself against the wall to regain his balance.
The autumn wind howled through the streets, and the withered yellow leaves twirled.
The wind whipped at the corner of his clothes, but he remained as still as a stone.
"Very good! Very good!"
He suddenly grinned, his mouth twisted, and his laughter was hoarse.
"Do you think I'm made of clay? Someone you can mold and shape at will? Zhou Shufen, Yang Qingshan... Fine, I'll remember you all! I'll settle this score with my own hands, one by one, sooner or later!"
The four people sat around the eight-immortal table with two corners missing.
He muttered to himself for a long time under the dim light of an oil lamp.
The flame of the oil lamp flickered and swayed gently in the night breeze.
Occasionally, a few barks could be heard from outside.
Zhou Hairong took a charcoal pencil and drew a crooked picture on the torn paper.
"Front door, back window, Yang Qingshan's little house is here... I'll go in first, find out what's going on inside, and give you the signal. Hai Liang is strong, carry that box of malted milk powder; Hai Qing and I will pry open the box; your brother will keep watch outside the wall, whistling when he hears a police siren."
He deliberately circled the back window, pointed an arrow at a corner of the roof, and muttered something under his breath.
"The roof tiles here are loose, so step on them carefully and don't hit your head."
During this time, Zhou Hairong also frequented Zhou Shufen's grocery store.
He knew exactly when Yang Qingshan locked the door and when he went to bed each day, and he even remembered roughly how Yang snored.
But Yang Qingshan was very rigid; he wouldn't even let anyone touch a candy wrapper.
He stood behind the counter, his back ramrod straight, his eyes wary.
If anyone takes an extra piece of candy, he will immediately put on a stern face and insist that you return it.
Once, Zhou Hairong deliberately rubbed the candy wrapper on the ground, wanting to pick it up and take a look.
Without saying a word, Yang Qingshan picked up a broom and swept the paper outside the door.
"You're not allowed to touch anything that doesn't belong to us!"
It even alerted the patrol officers.
The man, carrying a lantern and waving a stick, walked over and demanded, "Who's there?"
The three were so frightened that they quickly hid in the haystack and dared not breathe.
Once the footsteps had faded into the distance, Zhou Hairong crawled out of the straw, his face covered in dust, but he was seething with hatred for Yang Qingshan.
If he hadn't been so vigilant, there would have been no need for him to sneak around at night.
What are you whistling about?
Zhou Haiqing asked.
"You've all remembered the song 'The East Is Red,' haven't you?"
Zhou Haiwei took a deep drag on his cigarette, sparks crackling loudly.
The smell of burning tobacco filled the room.
He squinted and exhaled a wisp of smoke.
That pipe was left to him by his father, and the copper pot was polished to a shine; he couldn't bear to replace it.
"Remember this! Once it gets dark and everyone in the village is asleep, we'll sneak into the county town, do the job, and come right back. Nobody will know we went out!"
Zhou Hairong slammed his hand on the table, his voice still low.
He added in a low voice, "Remember, once you're inside, you must come out within three minutes. Staying even a second longer is suicide."
Zhou Haiqing twisted the hem of his clothes tightly with his fingers.
"Brother... I'm still scared. The patrol team really carries weapons."
He recalled that last winter, militiamen stopped a stranger stealing sweet potatoes at the village entrance and threw them directly at the man's back.
The man vomited blood on the spot.
"What's there to be afraid of!"
Zhou Hairong slapped him on the back of the head.
"They're all dozing off at the street corner. If we go around from behind, we won't even bump into them!"
Zhou Hairong sneered, his eyes flashing with a defiant light.
"If you're too scared, go back to bed right now! Don't end up trembling in there and drag us all down with you!"
As he spoke, he stuffed a hard piece of dried sweet potato into his mouth, chewing it loudly.
"Once we get the money, I'll get you some polyester fabric and make you a new jacket!"
The dried sweet potato crumbled into crumbs in his mouth, but he couldn't bear to swallow it, so he chewed it forcefully.
He stared at Zhou Haiqing, his tone suddenly softening.
"If you wore your new jacket to your blind date, wouldn't that girl from the Chen family look at you differently?"
Zhou Hailiang rubbed his hands together on the side.
"If I really manage to get some malted milk powder, I'll share half with you, how about it? I heard it's as sweet as honey when you mix it with water. If Erniu gets a taste, she'll definitely smile at me."
He grinned, revealing a set of teeth stained yellow from smoking, his face filled with fantasies.
Stop dreaming!
Zhou Haiwei slammed the pot onto the corner of the table.
"Cheer up, everyone! If we mess this up tonight, the four of us will lose face in the village, and even Widow Pan's dog will dare to bark at us!"
He glared at the three of them, his eyes filled with rage.
"We're so poor, this is our only chance to turn our lives around! If anyone backs down at the last minute, they'll never get married, never build a house, and they'll have to beg for food on their knees!"
The sun was just beginning to set behind the western mountains.
The four of them, each carrying a sweet potato, quietly slipped to the village entrance.
Zhou Hairong had rusty iron wire tucked into his arms.
He picked up the wire from a pile of scrap metal.
After three whole days of grinding, one end was sharpened to a point, and the other end was bent into a hook shape.
He would reach out and touch it every now and then to make sure it was still there.
This thing is a lock pick.
Zhou Hailiang was carrying a bag stuffed with a layer of tattered cotton, saying he was afraid the malted milk powder bottle would break if it was bumped or knocked.
The sack was soaked with his sweat, but he refused to put it down.
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