Flip the table and divide the family property! Take his wife and daughter into the mountains and eat

Zhao Shanhe looked in the direction of the sound.

Zhao Shanhai slowly emerged from behind Scarface, wearing old glasses on his nose, his face sallow and bluish, his cotton-padded jacket hanging loosely on his body. Standing amidst the broken bricks and tiles and a group of thugs, he hunched his shoulders and back, looking like a stray dog ​​that had been soaking in the gutter for a long time and had just crawled out to see the light of day.

Zhao Shanhe did not speak immediately.

He simply stood there, at a distance that was neither too close nor too far, and looked Zhao Shanhai up and down.

That gaze was slow.

First his face, then his glasses, then his dirty, gray cotton-padded jacket, and finally his muddy shoes.

After two seconds, Zhao Shanhe gave a faint "oh":

"Oh, it was you."

He paused, his gaze lingering on Zhao Shanhai's face for half a second, a very faint twitch at the corner of his mouth:

"I was wondering why the handwriting on that note looked so familiar, and it was written so awkwardly. Now I know, it was you who wrote it."

"I hadn't seen you for years, I thought you'd died out there long ago."

Zhao Shanhai paused for a second, then let out a series of hoarse, unpleasant laughs. His shoulders shook as he laughed, and his eyes behind his glasses burned like embers.

"Die? Zhao Shanhe, you're not dead yet, how could I bear to die?!"

Zhao Shanhai suddenly leaned forward, his bluish face looking particularly ferocious under the light.

"I've dreamt about you every single day these past few years, dreamt of you kneeling before me, dreamt of you begging me to let you go! Do you think you can erase all those old debts just because you're some factory manager now? You're dreaming!"

His chest heaved violently, and his voice rose sharply, hoarse and shrill with a piercing crack:

"Do you know what I've been through all these years?!"

As he roared, he gripped his tattered cotton-padded jacket tightly to his chest with his withered hand, his knuckles turning blue and white from the force.

"I used to have a job! A promising future! I had plenty of opportunities!"

"If you hadn't interfered, ruined my blind date, and damaged my reputation, would I be in this situation?!"

Zhao Shanhai suddenly took a step forward, his bluish face almost coming into the shadows of the lamplight, making him look particularly ferocious.

"To survive, I was a dog to those scrap collectors, beaten by those thugs in the stinking ditch! Where were you when I was kneeling before them for half a steamed bun? When you were wearing these clean clothes, working as a factory manager, riding in a jeep, did you ever think about how I was breathing in the gutter?!"

He spoke faster and faster, his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was covered in tears and snot, making him look both pitiful and disgusting.

"I remember all these humiliations! Every beating, every 'rotten dog' you called, I'll hold you accountable!"

"Zhao Shanhe, you're the one who caused all of this! You're the one who pushed me into hell!"

He practically shouted the last sentence.

The wind whipped up snowflakes and splattered on my face.

The place was deathly quiet.

After listening, Zhao Shanhe's face remained completely expressionless.

He simply stood there, slowly flicking the ash from his fingertips.

Two seconds later, he finally raised his eyelids to look at Zhao Shanhai.

"Are you done talking?"

Zhao Shanhai suddenly froze.

Zhao Shanhe looked at him, his eyes completely devoid of emotion, his voice as flat as stagnant water:

"Zhao Shanhai, aren't you mistaken about something?"

"You live like a dog, not because I kicked you into the mud."

"It's because you were only meant to stay in the mud."

Zhao Shanhai's face twitched violently, and his lips trembled as he was about to utter a sound.

Zhao Shanhe tossed the remaining half of the red plum blossom at his feet, casually rolling it over with his leather boots, thus interrupting him:

"You're a piece of trash, utterly rotten, incapable of standing up. You're just trying to use me as an excuse to make yourself seem less pathetic?"

"You come to me wailing and lamenting, trying to make me feel guilty? Trying to make me feel like I owe you something?"

Zhao Shanhe smirked, his gaze fixed on a pile of stinking garbage.

"Stop patting yourself on the back."

"What kind of life you lead is none of my business!"

As soon as he said that, Zhao Shanhai felt as if he had been struck by lightning.

He froze at first.

It was as if she never expected that all the pent-up resentment she had kept bottled up for so long, all the hatred she harbored to the core, would only result in a single sentence in Zhao Shanhe's eyes.

What's it to me?

The next second, the flesh on his face twitched violently, and the eyes behind his glasses suddenly burst into bloodshot.

"What's it to me?!"

"Zhao Shanhe, say that again, you fucking idiot!"

"I kill you!!"

He let out a howl and pounced forward, like a completely mad wild dog, arms outstretched, eyes red, charging straight at Zhao Shanhe's face.

Zhao Shanhe didn't even lift his eyelids.

He lifted his leg and kicked.

The kick was swift and powerful, landing squarely on Zhao Shanhai's chest.

boom!

Zhao Shanhai was thrown off the ground and flew backward, his back slamming heavily into a pile of broken bricks, causing the bricks to roll around. He let out a muffled groan and couldn't catch his breath for a long time.

The glasses flew far away and landed in a crack between the bricks.

The room fell silent for a moment.

Zhao Shanhe didn't even glance at Zhao Shanhai on the ground, but looked up at the scarred man.

"Scarface, I'm taking him away now. Are you going to release him or not?"

Scarface first glanced at the menacing Zhao Shanhe, then at the unconscious Ma Hou lying on the ground, and then at the dark muzzle of the gun in Da Zhuang's hand. His lips twitched violently twice.

Scarface gritted his teeth, spat the cigarette butt from his mouth onto the ground, and finally muttered a curse under his breath:

"Oh shit……"

Release them.

The thugs behind them were taken aback at first.

"Boss—"

"I said release them!"

Scarface glared at him, his voice already laced with anger.

"Are you deaf?!"

The two henchmen dared not dawdle any longer and hurriedly ran towards Liang Jiajun, frantically trying to untie the ropes.

Liang Jiajun's hands and feet were numb from being tied up, and his face was swollen like a pig's head. He had been huddled in a corner pretending to be dead.

Seeing that they were really going to let him go, a glint of hope appeared in his eyes, his lips trembled, and tears and snot streamed down his face.

As soon as the rope loosened, ignoring his aching limbs, he scrambled and stumbled towards Zhao Shanhe, shouting in a tearful voice as he ran:

"Director Zhao! I knew you wouldn't abandon me!"

He was running so fast that he didn't pay attention to his footing and stepped on the broken glasses that Zhao Shanhai had thrown out.

With a "crack," the lens shattered completely into powder.

Zhao Shanhai, who had been lying on the ground like a dead dog, twitched violently upon hearing the crisp sound.

He struggled to lift his head, his swollen, bloodshot eyes, no longer shielded by his glasses, staring intently at Liang Jiajun's back, then at the pile of broken glass, letting out a low, beast-like growl.

Liang Jiajun didn't even turn around. He had already run to Zhao Shanhe's side and subconsciously wanted to reach out and grab Zhao Shanhe's clothes for protection.

But Zhao Shanhe gave him a cold glance, and the disgust in his eyes made him freeze in place, not daring to get any closer. He could only stand awkwardly and fearfully half a step to the side of Zhao Shanhe.

But it was at this moment—

To everyone's surprise, Zhao Shanhai suddenly sprang up from the pile of bricks!

He lunged forward and snatched the short gun from the waist of the scarred man who was closest to him and completely unprepared!

"Holy shit!"

Scarface's expression changed instantly.

"Second brother, are you crazy?!"

Zhao Shanhai wouldn't listen to anything anymore.

He gripped the gun tightly with both hands, the muzzle swaying, before finally fixing it firmly on Zhao Shanhe!

"Go to hell, all of you!!"

Zhao Shanhai roared and pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"