Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“Not really, Uncle. You never treated me like a human being either,” I said mildly.

Big Guy, standing in front of me, burst out laughing.

“Kid, you’ve got a pretty good sense of humor.”

With several of them blocking the way, they were honestly intimidating. The relatives who had been throwing their weight around as my elders were scared stiff, and in the end, we actually squeezed a few thousand yuan out of each of them.

They kept shouting about paying me back in installments.

Xing He watched them transfer the money to me, then added, “Put ‘repayment’ in the note.”

Only then did he open the door and let them leave.

I looked at the extra ten thousand or so yuan in my phone account, my expression relaxing. Even though I knew this so-called installment repayment was nothing but nonsense.

But they’d come all the way here, failed to get a single cent out of me, and even ended up bleeding money themselves.

It felt incredible.

“Bro, you guys were amazing!”

Big Guy waved it off. “Nah. People like them just bully you because you’re young and thin-skinned. The second they run into someone tough, they get scared. Besides, you’re neighbors with Brother He. I doubt they’ll dare come again.”

Curly clicked his tongue too. “A bunch of grown adults with working arms and legs, and they have their eyes on a kid’s house and wallet. Shameless!”

“We see people like this all the time,” Blondie said, sitting back down to keep eating. “Cowards who only pick on the weak. Trash.”

They went right back to eating with gusto. Once they were done, they wiped their mouths, said goodbye to Xing He, and left, saying they were in a hurry to get to work.

I looked at my Tattooed Neighbor and asked, “Brother He, how much should I pay you guys?”

He still hadn’t told me their daily rate.

Xing He glanced at me, then at the table. “Clean up. Keep the money safe. And don’t go telling people how much money you have.”

He didn’t take my money. His friends seemed to have simply come over for hotpot, and then strolled off just as casually.

Leaving behind a huge bag of unfinished drinks and snacks at my place.

When Xing He was about to leave, I belatedly called him back and added his contact information.

At first, I had no idea what he did for a living. He always seemed to leave late and come back early. It wasn’t until one day, when I came across a post online, that I found out he was a bartender at a nearby bar.

So he wasn’t some gangster after all.

Thinking back to my first impression of him, I felt a little guilty.

After all, Xing He had done me a huge favor. After that day, my uncle and the others were afraid of being chased for the debt, and tacitly stopped coming around to harass me.

Another weekend came. I messaged him in advance, wanting to invite him and the three guys from last time out for a meal.

I’d looked up the business hours of the bar he worked at. There was definitely enough time for dinner.

At first, Xing He only replied with two words: “No need.”

But after I insisted, he finally seemed to compromise and told me to send him the restaurant address and time. He’d notify the other three.

Around the agreed time, I knocked on the door next to mine.

A man in a wine-red shirt came out. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the top button undone, his collar open.

The tattoo on his right arm, along with the one over his chest, was faintly visible.

He was also wearing a silver cross necklace.

Xing He smelled strongly of cologne.

“Let’s go,” he said to me.