Chapter 31: Having a Good Dad Really Makes a Difference

Wang Xiaoqiang was feeling down—seemed like more trouble was on the way. He stepped forward, took a look, and saw the boy unconscious, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He called out to Old Wang, and the two of them lifted the boy onto the car and sped toward Happiness Town.

At the town’s hospital, the doctor gave him some glucose and antibiotics. Luckily, no bones were broken. The girl stayed by the boy’s side the whole time. Xiaoqiang walked up to the doctor, pulled out two packs of cigarettes from his pocket, and shoved them into the man’s coat. “These two kids look real pitiful,” he said. “Probably lost their families. Do what you can for them—any extra costs, just bill me.” Xiaoqiang wasn’t exactly a nobody around town anymore; he had a little clout. The doctor nodded eagerly.

It was still early, so they headed back to the orphanage. Just as they arrived, Ailuola happened to return too. Zhou Dafu and the others had scoured every subway station within three kilometers of the neighborhood with nothing to show. Huang Tingting looked drained again. Xiaoqiang encouraged her: “Not finding them isn’t necessarily bad. Do you have any photos of your family? Go get them developed at the town photo shop—get a few copies. I’ll have everyone keep an eye out.”

Huang Tingting perked right up, nodding vigorously. Xiaoqiang changed into the东风箱 truck, loaded everyone in, and drove off toward the valley thirty kilometers away. Zhou Dafu, first time holding a gun, was practically vibrating with excitement. Most of his shots missed the target, but one lucky round hit the 9-ring—enough to make him strut around in front of Cheng Ying like he’d just won the Olympics.

Xiaoqiang didn’t care about that couple’s lovey-dovey drama.

They set up a target 400 meters away, placed a pistol on a tree stump, along with five magazines and four sniper rounds. He handed the rifle to Xue Bin. “Start with the handgun, then move to the sniper. But listen—opportunities don’t last forever. They’re getting rarer. You better make the most of it. From now on, each day you’ll lose one bullet. If you keep missing the bullseye, I’m taking the gun back.”

He grinned at Xue Bin with that unmistakably mischievous smirk, then turned and started shooting himself.

Even though Xiaoqiang thought he was a quick learner, he clearly had zero natural talent with firearms. His best shot was a shaky 6-ring—barely decent, even worse than one of the little girls in the group. That stung. After a few minutes, he pretended to be deep in thought, began practicing *Yi Jin Jing* instead. He couldn’t afford to lose face. Maybe he should start training separately—just him and the routine.

But before he could settle into meditation, a sudden gasp rang out behind him. He turned around—and there they all were, clustered around Xue Bin. He glanced at the target ahead. Every single bullet had landed between 7 and 9 rings. Not a single miss.

Xiaoqiang stared, stunned. Once again, he muttered under his breath: *Damn, having a good dad really does make a difference. How the hell did he even get born like this?*

Xue Bin didn’t seem thrilled. After finishing the handgun drills, he picked up the sniper rifle—but didn’t fire immediately. Instead, he kept adjusting, testing ideas. Then came the distinct, rhythmic *click-click-click-click* of the sniper’s bolt action. Four clean shots in succession.

Xiaoqiang opened his eyes, squinting at the distant target. Two 8-rings, two 7-rings. No praise. No smile. Just that same smug, irritating grin aimed straight at Xue Bin. It was pure torture.

After the shooting session, they returned to the orphanage. There, standing at the gate, were the two half-grown kids. As soon as they spotted Xiaoqiang’s group, they rushed over. The boy spoke up: “Thank you so much for saving me and my sister. I’ll repay you somehow.”

Xiaoqiang waved it off. “Don’t sweat it—it was just something I had to do. You haven’t eaten yet, right? Have lunch with us. Yingzi, take care of them.” Without waiting for a reply, he strode inside. The boy looked flustered, but his stomach growled loudly. So did his sister’s. They reluctantly stayed.

Feeling useless with a gun, Xiaoqiang decided maybe he wasn’t cut out for firearms. Time to try something else. Suddenly, he remembered the pile of管制 knives he’d brought back. Excited, he dashed upstairs.

He found the odd knife right away. Then, while rummaging through the rest, a strange familiarity washed over him. He quickly pushed aside the other blades—and there it was: another knife almost identical to his own. Only longer—about two meters.

He climbed to the rooftop, gripping one in each hand, swinging them experimentally. Feels good. He’d never studied swordsmanship, had no real experience with blades—his only reference was one move from *Yi Jin Jing*: the Nine Ghosts Pulling the Blade. After thinking hard, he focused solely on that motion, now with two swords. At first, clumsy and awkward. But slowly, he found rhythm—using wrist flicks to guide the blades in smooth arcs across different directions.

He started slow, then gradually increased speed. Eventually, both blades traced perfect, closed elliptical loops in midair. He pushed harder. The blades occasionally clashed—but he adjusted instantly. Soon, the long and short blades carved two complete, shimmering zones of steel around him. From afar, it looked like two glowing silver halos circling his body. He held the stance, slashing nonstop. Sweat poured down his face, pooling on the roof until a noticeable wet patch formed beneath him.

Finally, he slowed down, then stopped. His breathing was ragged. This kind of exhaustion—he hadn’t felt it in ages. No regular exercise ever made him sweat this much. His body felt light, refreshed.

“Qiangge, come down for dinner!” Yingzi called from below.

Xiaoqiang blinked. He’d been training for a full hour.

The call hit him like a lightning bolt—hunger surged through him. He scrambled downstairs, sat down, and dug in without hesitation. Li Director smiled at the siblings. “You’re home now. Don’t be shy. Eat up.” He piled two big chunks of fish onto their plates.

Both said in unison: “Thank you, Auntie.” Then they bent over their bowls, eating quietly.

As Xiaoqiang ate, he noticed everyone staring. He paused, confused. “What? Why are you all looking at me?”

His mom chuckled. “You’ve been eating a lot lately, haven’t you? How many bowls have you had already?”

Xiaoqiang snapped back. He counted in his head—five bowls. Just… a bottomless pit. He blushed slightly. “I don’t know why—I’ve just been starving lately. Must be growing.”

“Pfft.” His mom burst out laughing. “Growing what? You’re not a kid anymore. You’ve stopped growing years ago. Eat if you’re hungry—being able to eat is a blessing.” She slid a fish head into his bowl.

Now *that* was a real mother. Xiaoqiang thought, silently. But seriously—had he really been eating this much lately? At this rate, he’d burn through the entire food supply. Nope. Gotta find more food. Fast.