VHBF -Chapter 105 Village Bully Daddy (Part 16)

Under the cub’s clear, accusatory gaze, Qin Yuli felt a sudden pang of guilt. He rubbed his nose, picked up the little dumpling clinging to his leg—then suddenly remembered something and hurriedly put her down again.

Snow had fallen on him and melted into slush; his whole outer coat was wet and icy. After setting the dumpling down, he switched from carrying her to holding her hand and led her into the house.

His mother, Comrade Chen Qiuhua, and his father were sitting squarely at the center of the table, faces stern, clearly displeased.

On either side sat his eldest and second brothers with their wives and children. There was still a pot of unfinished chunks-of-meat soup on the table—so they should have been in the middle of a meal—but the atmosphere looked more like a joint tribunal.

Chen Qiuhua tightened her aged face and said sternly, “So you still know how to come back?”

Old Man Qin: “Don’t want your parents anymore? Don’t want your child either?”

Qin Guoshu: “Little brother, why did you come back so fast? Didn’t they say a few people got arrested in our Lin County? Big brother was worried sick about you!”

Qin Guodong: “Heh heh, it’s good you’re back, good you’re back.”

As soon as Qin Guodong finished speaking, Old Man Qin and Chen Qiuhua turned their heads in unison to stare at Qin Guoshu. “Arrested? Why didn’t you ever say that?”

Qin Guoshu: “…”

Qin Guoshu got a thorough scolding. His parents were angry that he’d kept it from them—if something really happened, shouldn’t he have said so earlier so everyone could think of a solution together?

“Your parents aren’t that fragile. We’ve already got one foot in the grave—what storms haven’t we seen? Your father and I even saw the Japanese devils back then!”

Then the spearhead turned toward the third son. Just as Grandma was about to unleash her tirade, the dumpling, quick-witted, tugged at Grandma’s sleeve and said, “Grandma, Daddy’s clothes are all wet. He’ll catch a cold.”

Chen Qiuhua choked on her breath, then snapped irritably, “Go change your clothes. After you’re done, come out and get scolded.”

Qin Yuli: “……”

Once he’d gone inside, Chen Qiuhua instructed the second daughter-in-law to boil a bowl of ginger soup in the kitchen. “Put two spoonfuls of brown sugar in it too. He’s only been gone a few days and the third already looks thinner.”

The dumpling clapped her little hands. “Grandma’s good, Grandma’s good! Put brown sugar!”

The Qin family was used to it. This old one and the little one both favored the third. The dumpling was young and expressed her affection very directly—calling “Daddy” every day. Whenever the third was home, she’d stick to him like glue, a little tail following him around; when he wasn’t, she’d miss him all day long.

As for their mother, Comrade Chen Qiuhua—complaints aside, she protected her son behind the scenes and always saved the good things for him.

So the third really was enviable—so enviable it made people want to beat him up.

After Qin Yuli changed his clothes and came out, he thought of the dumpling standing at the doorway earlier, looking at him with those eager little eyes. For once, a bit of guilt crept into his heart, and he bent down, reaching out to pick her up.

The dumpling huffed, turned her little head to the side, clasped her small hands behind her back, and refused to be held.

Oh? Throwing a tantrum now, are we?

If Qin Yuli hadn’t had his memories intact—truly remembered everything from the past twenty years—he would’ve suspected this little brat was actually his own biological child.

From the very first day the cub came to the Qin family, she’d shown him an unusually strong fondness. That closeness and reliance really didn’t feel like someone meeting her dad for the first time.

Being clung to like that, Qin Yuli had grown used to the cub always taking his side. Now, with that little forehead turned away from him, he actually felt a bit uneasy.

The cub was very angry—everyone in the Qin family could tell.

The twins whispered to each other. “Yinyin is finally angry—and she’s angry at Third Uncle. Will Third Uncle know how to coax her?”

Hei Mian thought about how Third Uncle usually didn’t put anyone in his eyes and loved bullying kids. He hesitated. “Probably… not?”

After being tricked by Third Uncle their whole lives, the twins’ trust in their unreliable uncle was already in the negatives. Even though they knew Third Uncle treated Yinyin quite well—far better than he treated other kids—they still couldn’t imagine what Third Uncle coaxing a child would look like.

They’d never had the chance to see it before, because Yinyin had always been too good-tempered, too soft—sweet like candy—and her relationship with Third Uncle was so good she never got mad at him.

But today, they were lucky enough to witness it.

Bai Mian and Hei Mian stared wide-eyed as they watched Third Uncle rub his nose, then pull a pretty pink little dress out of the big bag beside him and hand it over. He lowered his voice slightly, trying to coax the cub. “Didn’t you want a pretty little dress? Here—have it!”

Yinyin covered her eyes and peeked through her fingers. When she spotted the little dress, she felt a surge of happiness—she hadn’t worn a pretty dress in such a long time!

She was bursting with joy inside, but the dumpling still didn’t move her hands, covering her chubby face tightly. The grin that had crept onto her lips was quickly reined back in.

She huffed again and muttered, “It was Daddy who wanted to buy a little dress. Yinyin never said that.”

Qin Yuli: “……”

He’d never been this embarrassed in eight lifetimes. Qin Yuli’s face twitched. After a moment’s thought, he reached back into the big bag and pulled out a jar of candy. Printed on the jar was the main character from the animated show Little Tadpoles Looking for Mama, which had just become popular this year.

Inside were fruit candies wrapped in colorful paper. This was the trendiest children’s snack from the coastal city—department store clerks all pushed this one, saying it sold well and kids loved it. Not only did they like eating it, they also liked the picture on the jar.

Afraid that the bargaining chips still weren’t enough to coax the cub, Qin Yuli dug around some more. The big bag was like a treasure pouch, nearly emptied by him.

Then he pulled out another bag and slapped it down in front of the dumpling—a bag of White Rabbit milk candies.

“Here—milk-flavored toffees!”

The Qin family’s kids stared without blinking, drool almost spilling out. Hearing that, Xiao Hua quietly leaned over to her sister and whispered, “Aren’t milk candies supposed to be milk-flavored anyway?”

Qin Yuli: “…”

Then he took out another tin—malted milk powder, about two jin or so, packed in an iron can. Country folk might go their whole lives without ever seeing something this precious. It was said that even in the county town it wasn’t easy to buy malted milk powder; only the supply depots in big cities carried it.

The children were so envious their eyes turned red. The two daughters-in-law of the old Qin family looked at their younger brother-in-law, clicking their tongues—where on earth had he gone to make such a fortune?

Chen Qiuhua cleared her throat, just about to say something, when she saw her foolish son take out yet another item: a padded jacket—a bright red little cotton coat. The hood had two bunny ears, and the pockets on both sides were embroidered with rabbit patterns. The workmanship was delicate, extremely cute.

Qin Yuli spread the little coat out and shook it lightly. It was thick and warm, yet so small that holding it in his hands gave off an inexplicably funny feeling.

He held the coat up against his daughter to size it, the corner of his lips curling. “Want it?”

The little one finally put down her tiny paws and turned to look at him.

Seeing the clear, bright look in his child’s eyes, Qin Yuli felt a surge of satisfaction. His face—recently thinner, making his features even sharper and more handsome—broke into a grin that was downright infuriating. He bent down to meet her gaze and said, “Call me Daddy.”

The Qin family: “…”

Qin Yuli repeated himself. He hadn’t heard the kid call him Daddy since he came in. It wasn’t like before, when no matter how fierce he was with her, she’d still trail after him all day calling “Daddy, Daddy.” Thinking about it now, it really did feel strange.

Father and daughter stared at each other for a long while. Qin Yuli scratched his slightly overgrown hair, on the verge of losing it. “So what more do you want?”

The little one’s eyes turned red as she muttered unhappily, “Daddy broke his promise.”

“You said you’d be back in three or four days, but Daddy is the best at lying!”

“Grandma was very worried, Grandpa was worried, Uncle was worried, Second Uncle was worried…”

“A-and Yinyin was worried too…” The little one grew a bit shy, yet still stared wide-eyed, clenching her small fists as she accused him. She wanted Daddy to understand where he’d gone wrong—good children should admit their mistakes and fix them.

“Yinyin was worried and sad. Even food didn’t taste good anymore. Other kids in the village said Daddy was going to be caught and sent to jail…”

“But Daddy, what does going to jail mean?”

She vaguely knew it wasn’t something good. She’d heard it meant being locked in a very, very dark room, not allowed to come out, with no food, where anyone could bully you.

The more she thought about it, the more she sniffled. This time, she was determined to make Daddy admit his mistake before she’d forgive him!

Qin Yuli rubbed his nose. He was even more patient than he’d been before leaving a few days ago, and he carefully broke down the whole story for her.

The Qin family sat to the side, listening along.

When Qin Yuli went to Haishi, everything went smoothly and calmly. It was on the return trip that he ran into a blizzard.

Heavy snow sealed off the roads. The snow on the ground was as deep as an adult’s calf, making it impossible for vehicles to move forward. The local transportation bureau sent people to clear the snow, but it hardly helped—you’d just finished clearing, and more snow would fall from the sky. More and more vehicles piled up on the road.

It was the New Year season, and everyone wanted to get home early for New Year’s Eve dinner and have a good holiday. Once there were too many people, trouble was bound to follow—especially at times like this. The longer the jam lasted, the more restless people became.

The worst blockage was in a stretch near the mountains, remote and neglected. The local transportation and public security bureaus didn’t really manage it well—there were few staff to begin with. That section of the highway bordered two villages.

When the road was built, land from those two villages had been taken. Although compensation was given, the villagers didn’t see it that way. They believed the land was handed down from their ancestors, so it was theirs. Since land had been taken, this road belonged to them too.

So they started blocking the road and robbing people.

They’d grown experienced at it. They didn’t call it robbery outright—just took out some insignificant mountain goods and forced people to buy them, or sold water and sugar.

They’d come up carrying things, asking, “Brother, you thirsty? You’ve been on the road so long—you must be hungry too. We’ve got hot water here, and there’s porridge and corn buns to eat.”

They’d even show concern: “Driver, you’ve worked hard. It’s almost New Year and you’re still stuck out here. Seeing this really breaks our hearts.”

At first, the drivers were completely taken in. Hearing all this, they were deeply moved, saying things like, “There really is warmth everywhere in this world. The folks here are so kind-hearted. Life’s not easy for anyone these days, yet they’re braving the snow to care for us, bringing hot water and food—truly warm-hearted, good people!”

Some drivers felt too embarrassed to eat the food, but hot water was just a bit of firewood—one small cup wasn’t worth much. Under the villagers’ enthusiastic hospitality, they drank a few sips of hot water.

In weather like that, hot water going down was genuinely comforting. Some truly hungry, simple-minded fellows didn’t stand on ceremony at all and actually ate the porridge and corn buns. Afterward, they sighed in satisfaction, thanked them repeatedly, and wanted to pay, but worried it would offend the villagers’ goodwill. So they took out small trinkets from their vehicles to give as tokens of thanks.

All of that was useless!

Those drivers who drank the water and ate the porridge and buns were far too naïve!

Once they’d finished eating, the villagers refused any gifts and simply held out their hands for money.

Won’t pay? Then they’d say, “You’ve eaten and drunk already—trying to freeload? Fine, let’s call the police comrades to judge this. Let’s see if there’s such a thing as a free lunch in this world!”

At that point, if it were normal market prices, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But they’d ask for outrageous sums: one yuan for a cup of hot water, two yuan for a thin bowl of coarse-grain porridge, one yuan fifty for a corn bun—and oh yes, pickles on the side, fifty cents.

The prices were absurd. Take a state-run restaurant, for example—forget ration coupons for a moment and just talk prices. A bowl of dumplings made from white flour, a dozen or so plump ones with meat inside, cost less than one yuan. A stir-fried vegetable dish was only fifty or sixty cents—cheap as could be.

Even factoring in all kinds of meat coupons and such, if you did the math, the money they charged for one bowl of coarse-grain porridge was enough to buy you a big bowl of dumplings—with change left over.

As for the hot water—this was something that cost practically nothing. A big bundle of firewood, how many kettles of hot water could it boil? Pour it into little cups, average it out—what did it really cost?

It was basically free. This kind of thing—every household had it, something you could get anywhere and make anytime—and he actually dared to open his mouth and demand one whole yuan?!

That money came easier than robbery!

It was laughable. Even the Son of Heaven himself wouldn’t dare name such a price.

In those days, anyone who could drive had some real skills. Their background usually wasn’t bad either—they had technical know-how to rely on, confidence to back them up, and tempers just as hard. The moment this happened, they blew up.

The hot-headed drivers were so furious they wished they could dig the food they’d just swallowed back out and throw it at him. This kind of shameless, coercive selling was utterly despicable.

If you’d said from the start that you were selling something, put a price on it—no matter how expensive—we’d have accepted it. But you didn’t say you were selling, didn’t say the price. You pretended to be a good Samaritan, lulled people into letting down their guard, waited until the food was already in their stomachs, and then turned around and told us: this was for sale, and it was expensive—so expensive you couldn’t even imagine it!

The enraged drivers argued with the numerous local villagers for ages. The more they argued, the angrier they got. They really had eaten the food—that was a fact they couldn’t deny. It felt like swallowing a fly—disgusting and nowhere to seek justice.

Later, no one knew who struck first. Once tempers flared, the argument turned into a brawl. Punches flew, crack-crack-bang, and several people ended up injured.

The convoy from the Lin County Food Factory—where Qin Yuli worked—was lined up at the back. They had three trucks on this trip, parked one behind another.

The villagers had approached them earlier too. Qin Yuli was chewing on a piece of candy—the milk-flavored kind his kid loved most, something called White Rabbit. He’d tried one and found it cloyingly sweet, couldn’t understand why the kid liked it so much.

He had one foot propped on the hood, idly shaking his leg, his heart warmed by thoughts of the big bag of stuff he’d brought back. He planned to make the kid coax him, sweet-talk him, and then give her the gifts one by one.

Not all at once—one item a day. Watching her wide-eyed, amazed little expressions, like she’d never seen the world before—Qin Yuli found it oddly entertaining.

Just as he was enjoying these pleasant thoughts, someone tapped on the car window. A simple, honest-looking old farmer leaned in, holding things in his hands, asking if “brother” wanted some, saying how hard the journey must be—his words full of concern.

Who was Qin Yuli? He was the number-one troublemaker of the Dahuai Production Team, a bona fide village tyrant.

In an era where everyone shouted “labor is glorious,” how could he manage to loaf around, eat well, and avoid work all these years just on luck?

Luck?

It was his sharp brain. He always danced precisely on people’s bottom lines, never crossing the truly untouchable ones. That was how he’d managed to slack off peacefully for so many years.

After all these years, his discerning eyes weren’t for show. One glance, and he saw the problem.

As the saying goes, who understands you best? Not your friends—your peers. One flick of the eyes and they already know what you’re thinking.

Qin Yuli tugged at the corner of his mouth, lowered his leg, leaned forward, and smiled even more warmly than the other man. “Brother, it’s not easy doing business in the dead of winter. Just so happens I’ve got clothes on my truck—want one?”

The man took off running on the spot.

Since they were all part of the same convoy, Qin Yuli thought for a moment and rescued the other two unfortunate brothers as well. The four of them escaped the clutches—no eating, no drinking, no paying. This mess had nothing to do with them.

If only that were truly the end of it. Once a fight breaks out, everything becomes involved.

Whether you threw punches or not, once it’s a brawl—especially a group fight—innocent bystanders get dragged in. Worse still, when the police come to round people up, as long as you’re at the scene, whether you fought or not, you’re all taken away.

Qin Yuli was heading home for the New Year. His daughter was waiting for him. He was already two days late—he didn’t have time to waste here.

After thinking through all the possible consequences, Qin Yuli made a snap decision and led his teammates in a getaway.

The other two drivers were scared stiff as well, secretly thankful they’d listened to Brother Qin and hadn’t eaten or drunk anything—otherwise they’d have been trapped too.

When people panic, they instinctively trust the one who just helped them. When Qin Yuli said he’d take them and run, the two drivers—each more than a decade older than him—didn’t even hesitate before agreeing.

They subconsciously took Qin Yuli as their lifeline. No one else saw through the scam—only he had seen the truth and avoided the trap.

The two drivers thought: Brother Qin is smart. He’ll definitely get us out of this.

So without another word, they followed right behind him.

The three trucks, at the tail of the convoy, quietly turned around and sped off in the opposite direction.

Qin Yuli clenched his teeth, swallowed the candy in his mouth, and floored it. Only after they’d cleared the area did he stop.

He knew there was another road leading back to Lin County. Not many people used it. Technically, it was even shorter than the blocked road, but it was steep and difficult. There had been several accidents in the past, so fewer and fewer people took it. By now, most drivers in Lin County didn’t even know such a road existed.

Qin Yuli knew because he’d studied the maps. He never fought battles without preparation. How dangerous was it to drive across provinces to deliver goods in those days? That went without saying.

And it was his first time driving, his first time dealing with something like this. Of course he’d prepared thoroughly.

After finding that road, he’d even asked Old Master Zhu. Master Zhu had driven trucks when he was young—he’d even delivered supplies for the Eighth Route Army. A half-road revolutionary veteran, you could say.

Master Zhu knew that road and had driven it before. He wasn’t sure whether it was still passable after all these years, but he told Qin Yuli the general location so he’d have some confidence.

Trusting Qin Yuli, the other two drivers trembled as they followed him, cutting through the overgrown path back to the county.

When they finally returned to the food factory, it felt like surviving a disaster. Thinking about the drivers still stuck over there, fighting in groups over a bite of food—while they themselves had already made it home, able to take a hot bath, change into clean clothes, eat and drink—the contrast made their happiness overwhelming.

They were just about to thank the hero who’d brought them back safely when Qin Yuli vanished in the blink of an eye. The two drivers decided that next time they got the chance, they’d definitely repay him properly. Brother Qin was bold yet meticulous—perfect for this line of work.

Especially after they got home and heard that another convoy from Lin County’s steel factory, which had gone out to deliver goods, was still stranded halfway and hadn’t returned.

Maybe the steel factory’s convoy had been at the very front, so they hadn’t seen them earlier. Now they heard it was five or six people—and not a single one had come back. Later they found out the local police had responded and taken everyone involved in the disturbance away. People from Lin County had been arrested too.

Aside from the food factory and the steel factory, no other units in the county had sent vehicles to Shanghai. Since they hadn’t been arrested, chances were high that the unlucky ones were the steel factory drivers.

Thinking of them, then thinking of themselves, the two drivers felt even more grateful.

After hearing the whole story, the Qin family finally let out a long breath. They’d been holding it in the whole time, not daring to make a sound, feeling how perilous it all was.

Villages like that were usually clan-based, tightly united. When fights broke out, they had sheer numbers on their side—you couldn’t stand up to them easily.

They didn’t dare imagine what would’ve happened if their third son hadn’t been so alert, had been tricked, and then dragged into the fight.

Chen Qiuhua patted her chest. “I’ve never heard of delivering goods causing this kind of trouble. It’s terrifying. Third son, as long as you made it back safe this time, that’s enough. Don’t do this kind of thing again—it’s too dangerous.”

“Exactly. We don’t care for state jobs anyway. This kind of work is way too risky.”

Qin Yuli twitched the corner of his mouth. “…I was just a temporary worker… There was only this one chance.”

“……”

Yinyin was on the verge of tears. So Daddy had gone through all this suffering just to come back—he hadn’t meant to lie to anyone.

The little one threw herself into her father’s arms, burying her face against him, saying softly, “Daddy, Yinyin was wrong. I shouldn’t have been mad at you.”

“Daddy be good, eat more food. Eat till you’re full.”

Second Sister-in-law Qin brought over a bowl of hot meat-dumpling soup for her brother-in-law. Qin Yuli ate while bragging to the family.

He told them how big and prosperous Shanghai was, how easy it was to buy things there—so long as you had ration coupons, you could get anything at the department store. Life there, he said, was like living as an immortal.