Lin Weidong watched his granddaughter respond so calmly and nodded secretly, feeling very relieved. He felt that his granddaughter had really grown up, had her own opinions when encountering things, and knew how to measure things.
Under the insistence of Lin Weidong and Lin Zhiyue, the Qu family finally gave in and promised not to spread false information anymore and to clarify it within a certain scope.
After leaving Qu's house, Lin Weidong breathed a sigh of relief: "That's good. I finally solved a worrying problem."
Lin Zhiyue took his grandfather's arm and said with a smile: "Yes, Grandpa, if anything happens in the future, we will face it together."
As dusk fell over the military compound, Lin Lang and his wife Wen Yu were fighting on the training ground.
His tall and straight figure was wrapped in camouflage uniform, his punches were powerful, and sweat was dripping down his strong jawline.
Wen Yu was not to be outdone. She dodged a straight punch by leaning sideways, turned around and attacked with a swift sweeping kick. The tacit understanding between the two of them over the years made sparks fly between offense and defense.
Until the end of the training, the couple walked into the room with towels, still discussing the newly formulated tactical plan.
Wen Yu smiled and joked: "Lao Lin, you were a little slow in reacting today. Isn't it time to strengthen your physical training?"
Lin Lang snorted and reached out to rub her sweat-soaked temples: "When I make sweet and sour pork ribs for Zhiyue at the weekend, I will definitely..."
Before he could finish his words, he hurried over. Lin Qihan said anxiously, "Uncle San, Aunt San, you are finally back!"
Wen Yu hurriedly held up the nearly overturned celadon teacup, the tea soup creating fine ripples on the wall of the cup: "What's wrong? Why are you in such a hurry?"
She pulled out a handkerchief and handed it over, her eyes sweeping across Lin Qihan's tense jawline, "Don't be anxious, drink a glass of water first and talk slowly."
Lin Qihan took the teacup and drank it all in one gulp, his Adam's apple rolling violently.
The glass hit the marble table with a dull thud, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the cup: "My little sister and Mu Siwen are dating, did you guys know?"
“Bang!”
The teacup in Lin Lang's hand shattered, and the scalding hot tea splashed onto the green bricks, creating white mist.
He stood up suddenly, and his army green jacket overturned the rattan chair behind him.
His eagle-like eyes pierced Lin Qihan, and his voice seemed to be tempered by ice: "What did you say? Say it again!"
Wen Yu sat stiffly on the rattan chair, the broken knitting needle rolled down beside her cotton shoes embroidered with twin lotus flowers.
She looked at the bulging veins on her husband's neck and trembled as she tried to speak, but was interrupted by Lin Lang's thunderous roar: "How dare that boy from the Mu family set his sights on my daughter! What does he think the Lin family is!"
Lin Qihan instinctively took a half step back and his lower back hit the carved screen.
A few pieces of gold foil fell off the sandalwood frame, swirling around in the mess on the ground.
"Uncle San, this matter has spread!"
He loosened the buttons on his collar and said, "This morning, they told me that they saw my little sister riding in Mu Siwen's military jeep to the department store, and..."
Before he could finish his words, Lin Lang had already picked up the copper paperweight on the table and slammed it on the antique display cabinet.
The celadon vase exploded, and the fragments flew like ice spikes, piercing into the wall and leaving a hideous gap.
Wen Yu finally came to her senses, rushed over and grabbed her husband's raised arm tightly: "Lao Lin! Calm down! Zhiyue is so old now, emotional matters..."
"emotion?"
Lin Lang turned his head suddenly, his red eyes full of bloodshot, "Mu Siwen is a wolf cub, how can my daughter be with him?"
Lin Lang grabbed the military cap on the back of the chair and put it on his head. The metal badge made a dull sound. "Wife, pack up your things, let's go back to the military compound!"
He kicked away the broken porcelain pieces at his feet, shaking the entire wall of picture frames. "If you were a step later, my daughter would have been kidnapped!"
Wen Yu looked at her husband's tense back, holding the half-broken knitting needle in her fingertips and was reluctant to put it down.
The tea had already gone cold, reflecting the swaying chandelier on the ceiling, shattering Lin Lang's shadow.
She sighed softly, turned and walked towards the bedroom, the rubbing sound of clothes filled with unfinished worries.
Lin Qihan looked at the mess on the ground and his Adam's apple rolled twice: "Uncle San, I'm going back too!"
He bent down to pick up the crumpled newspaper. The title "Military-Civilian Gala" between the folds was so piercing that it hurt his eyes.
The hand holding the newspaper suddenly tightened, leaving sharp wrinkles at the corners.
As the roar of the engine tore through the twilight, the jeep's taillights dragged a scarlet streak of light on the asphalt road.
Lin Lang gripped the steering wheel tightly, his palms turning white.
In the rearview mirror, Lin Qihan's SUV was following closely, its headlights piercing through the raised dust, like two sharp blades piercing into the night.
As the wheels rolled over the speed bumps, he seemed to have seen his daughter standing next to Mu Siwen. His temples were throbbing and he stepped on the accelerator a little harder.
When I got home, Lin Zhiyue was curled up on the sofa, her fingers nervously pinching the corner of the pillow.
Lin Lang slammed the door shut, shaking the military medals on the wall. "How old is Mu Siwen? Don't you know how much older he is than you? Isn't this just an old cow eating young grass?"
He paced back and forth in the living room, his military boots thumping the floor, "I don't agree! My daughter is still young, there's no rush for her to date!"
Wen Yu quietly tugged at the corner of her husband's clothes, but was pushed away by Lin Lang.
Lin Weidong's neck veins bulged, he picked up the enamel pot beside him and slammed it heavily on the eight-immortal table, the tea splashed and even the calendar paper was wrinkled: "Why are you yelling, what does this have to do with you!"
His gray eyebrows were twisted into knots and his cloudy eyes stared at his son, whose face was also flushed.
"Dad! That's my daughter!"
Lin Lang loosened his tie, letting his coat hang askew on his body, his Adam's apple rolling violently, "Dating Mu Siwen, isn't this nonsense?"
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