Chapter 84: 082 Happy 17th Birthday, Yaoyao

“Straight-line distance is 534 meters.”

“Wind speed is 2.7 meters per second.”

“There’s no fog and no large dust particles in the air, visibility is high.”

For a sharpshooter, such distance and weather conditions represented a rare opportunity.

A black earpiece hung from his right ear.

Dressed in a black bodysuit that stretched tight over his muscles, he blended into the night.

This spot offered a wide view yet was concealed, hard to detect.

A voice came through the earpiece.

“Ready to make a move?”

“Not yet,” the sharpshooter replied, frowning as he held his binoculars. “There’s an old man with him, I’ll wait until he’s alone before I act.”

It wasn’t because he was worried about harming the innocent; he wanted to minimize the noise.

The voice in the earpiece continued.

“You sure you don’t need my help? Tell me his details, and I’ll act with you. There’s no way he can escape.”

“No need,” the sharpshooter said without hesitation, “Why would I share my prey with you?”

Ten billion US dollars.

Just completing this bounty would allow him to rest for a few years.

The information hadn’t come easy; why would he share it with another hunter?

“Tsk, alright then,” the voice in the earpiece said indifferently. “But just so you know, not long ago, number ninety-four on the Gun God Ranking missed.”

“Fired five bullets and didn’t hit a regular person; you better be careful.”

The sharpshooter snorted coldly: “Mind your own business.”

He ranked seventh on the Gun God Ranking.

Could number ninety-four compare to him?

What a joke.

The sharpshooter cut off the communication and threw the earpiece aside.

He readjusted the height of his equipment and hunkered down again.

**

Inside the apartment.

Thanks to Ying Zijin’s care, Wen Fengmian’s health had greatly improved.

So, the meal tonight was prepared by him alone, with Wen Tinglan acting as his assistant.

The dishes were not particularly expensive, but they were home-cooked and delicious in both flavor and aroma.

In the center of the table was a large cake, with candles beside it.

Wen Fengmian removed his apron and wiped his hands: “The place is small, I hope it doesn’t disappoint you.”

Having lived in Qingshui County for over a decade, it was his first visit to Shanghai City.

Apart from Zhong Manhua who had once visited Qingshui County, Wen Fengmian hadn’t really interacted with people from the Four Major Wealthy Families and couldn’t help feeling a bit worried.

“Mr. Wen, you shouldn’t say such things,” Old Master Zhong hurriedly stood up. “It’s my honor to be here, you’re too polite.”

Beside him, Old Master Fu stared at the cake, his gaze almost hungry.

Fu Yunshen lifted his eyelids slightly, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance: “Grandfather.”

“Ah? Cough cough!” Old Master Fu coughed and said sternly, “It’s not small; I think it’s quite fine. Elder Zhong and I used to cram into the same room, so this is nothing.”

Having lived through famine, the older generation didn’t have such delusions of grandeur.

Wen Fengmian was surprised by the two elders’ attitudes, and his heart relaxed a bit.

Old Master Fu then turned to the girl: “Zijin, don’t think your grandpa is old and just a roar emperor, he used to be very timid, afraid of the dark.”

Ying Zijin rested her chin on her hands, raising an eyebrow at this.

Old Master Zhong was furious: “Old Man Fu, don’t stir up trouble in front of my granddaughter, count for yourself, how many snacks did you steal from me when we were young?”

Ying Zijin: “…”

Fu Yunshen: “…”

Old Master Fu boasted triumphantly: “That’s because you were too dumb to catch me.”

Old Master Zhong was beside himself with rage: “Pah!”

He was still angry about that topic.

As kids, they had grown up as brothers, running around bare-bottomed.

He had visited the Fu Family, and Old Master Fu had visited the Zhong Family.

Every time Old Master Fu left the Zhong family home, his snacks would somehow disappear.

It was later discovered by Old Master Zhong that it was all Old Master Fu’s doing.

Stealing his malt sugar.

Stealing his pea cakes.

And he’d take a whole bag, not leaving even crumbs behind.

Really, is this something a person should do?

Wen Tinglan, who had been silent all this time, finally looked up, his expression showing a faint ripple of emotion.

He had to keep a close watch on the little snacks his sister had bought him.

Since it was just between family, the birthday celebration wasn’t extravagant, but it was very warm and joyful.

Old Master Fu was in poor health and needed to rest after eating.

“Yaoyao, wait for me,” Fu Yunshen stood up, “I’ll take Grandfather home, and then I’ll come back.”

“Hmm?” Ying Zijin was cleaning up the plates, “The cake is all eaten, what are you coming back for?”

“…”

He was sure the kid wasn’t heartless, she was just like this.

Fu Yunshen couldn’t help but smile helplessly, “You can’t just celebrate a birthday like this.”

Ying Zijin pondered for a moment, “I think I’m quite satisfied.”

“Your brother isn’t.” Fu Yunshen tapped her forehead lightly, saying unhurriedly, “At nine o’clock, there’s a surprise.”

Meanwhile, Old Master Zhong was expressing his gratitude to Wen Fengmian.

“Thank you, thank you so much for the care you’ve given Zijin all these years. If you hadn’t taken her in, I really don’t know…”

He didn’t finish his sentence.

Because everyone knew what the outcome would have been.

A child over a year old, lost outside—if not picked up by traffickers, would die of starvation.

Wen Fengmian pushed the bank card back, coughing, “It’s what I should do.”

Old Master Zhong felt the Wen family’s upbringing was genuinely good and didn’t insist further, “Mr. Wen, if you have any difficulties in the future, you can come to me. As for those people from the Ying family, just pretend you haven’t seen them, like rotten cabbages.”

Wen Fengmian didn’t nod or shake his head, just smiled and went to help Ying Zijin wash the dishes in the kitchen.

Old Master Zhong was still sitting by the table, drinking, when he suddenly remembered something.

Hisss.

It seemed like he had seen Wen Fengmian somewhere, a sense of familiarity nagging at him.

But where…

Old Master Zhong thought for a long time but couldn’t figure it out, so he simply took another swig of his drink.

He turned his head and pulled the youngster toward him, “Xiao Lan, Old Man Fu is too weak. Come and play a couple of rounds with me. Don’t go easy on me; Grandpa isn’t afraid.”

Old Master Zhong also liked Wen Tinglan a lot and let him join Ying Zijin in calling him Grandpa.

He had gained another grandson.

He was really happy.

Wen Tinglan looked up, gazing deeply at him, “…I don’t want to.”

“You want to, you really do,” Old Master Zhong pushed the black pieces toward him without room for disagreement, “If you win against Grandpa, I’ll give you a big red envelope.”

The last sentence decisively made Wen Tinglan pick up the chess pieces, “Deal.”

The not-yet-sober Old Master Zhong: “…”

Something didn’t feel right, did it?

**

Outside.

The sharpshooter was still perched on the rooftop opposite, but as time dragged on, impatience set in.

Finally, after waiting for an hour, a man’s figure appeared again in the scope.

This time, he was alone.

It was nine o’clock at night, and the neighborhood was devoid of people.

It was very quiet.

The sharpshooter exhaled a breath of relief and raised the gun’s barrel, aiming at the man’s head.

His finger slid to the trigger, ready to pull it.

But just then, his shoulder was tapped.