She showed no fear; her cold, piercing eyes never blinked as she stared at the man who had once slapped her so hard it shattered her life—and tonight had struck her down again with another slap.

After two more cold laughs, she turned to the middle-aged man she had once held in the highest regard, the one she had idolized, and asked, “You want me to shut up? Fine. Then Mr. Ming, please hand over what belongs to me. Once I’ve got it, I promise I’ll get out of here immediately—never again will I be a nuisance in front of you, nor will I disturb your family’s happy life.”

“I can’t come up with that kind of money right now,” Ming Shuo said. His hand didn’t fall back down, but neither did it let go; it hovered mid-air.

Ming Yue glanced at him, yet she didn’t flinch. She stood there, calm and composed. “Then don’t blame me! From today on, I’ll just have to be a constant nuisance in front of your whole family. Oh, I know—you all can’t stand me, but isn’t it the same for me? Don’t I feel utterly disgusted by every single one of you?”

“You!” Ming Shuo gritted his teeth, raising his hand a bit higher.

Ming Yue met his gaze coldly, still refusing to move, but in the meantime she had quietly adjusted the glass teacup in her hand to the perfect position.

She sighed, her voice icy. “What do you mean, ‘what’? You don’t believe me? That won’t do, Mr. Ming. You know me—I always keep my word. If you’re unwilling to give me those things, then just bear with it! Disgusting as it is, time will eventually wear everything down. Maybe we’ll all get used to being disgusted with each other. If you and your little darling wife really can’t stand it, then figure out a way to scrape together the money and give me what I want as soon as possible. By then, you won’t even have to remind me—I’ll bolt before you can say another word.”

“Unreasonable!” Ming Shuo snapped, his nostrils flaring with anger. He simply couldn’t understand where the once obedient, well-behaved daughter had gone, how she’d turned into this repulsive creature.

If strangling someone wouldn’t break the law or cost him his life, he’d love nothing more than to grab her by the throat and choke her to death—this sudden returnee who was constantly defying him.

But after much deliberation, Ming Shuo finally managed to suppress his fury. He forced himself to resist the urge to strangle her, to strike her down with a single blow, and instead withdrew his raised hand, turned around, and headed upstairs.

Ming Yue raised her eyebrows slightly, her eyes glinting faintly as she weighed the glass teacup in her hand. She called out to him calmly, unhurriedly, “Dad, are you leaving already? We haven’t finished talking yet—why are you in such a hurry?”

“What else do you want to say?” Ming Shuo’s tone was impatient, and he shot Ming Yue another angry glare.

Ming Yue smiled without answering, then slowly walked around to stand in front of him.

Before he even realized what was happening, her hand, clutching the glass teacup, suddenly shot up high and, without warning, smashed it straight onto his head, knocking the unsuspecting Ming Shuo flat on the floor.

Ming Shuo’s head spun, stars danced before his eyes, and lying on the ground he pointed angrily at Ming Yue, shouting, “You wretched, unfilial daughter! How dare you… how dare you… actually hit me! I’m your father! I’m your biological father! How dare you lay a hand on your own father?”

His furious eyes were filled with disbelief, and the murderous intent that had barely subsided in his gaze surged back out in an instant.

Ming Yue certainly saw it—but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to give this man another chance to hurt her.

Before the enraged Ming Shuo could even get to his feet, she had already wiped the fingerprints off the broken glass teacup in her hand as quickly as possible, then tossed it carelessly onto the floor, replying disdainfully to her father’s question: “So what if I hit you?”

“You!”

“What do you mean? The feudal relic of ‘a father wants his son dead, and the son has no choice but to die’ has long since vanished. Mr. Ming, there’s no rule in this world that says only fathers can hit their sons and sons can’t fight back. ”

The glass teacup hit the floor with a sharp thud.

Ming Yue kicked it aside with a casual flick of her foot, sending it flying far away.

Yawning lazily, she dragged her small suitcase upstairs, all the while conveying her attitude to the furious man sprawled on the floor:

“So, my dear dad, starting today, please remember this: from now on, when we’re together, you’d better learn to control your temper. If we disagree, it’s fine to argue—it’s not like I’ll hold it against you; at worst, I’ll put up with a couple of your insults. But please, for heaven’s sake, don’t lose your cool and start hitting or yelling at me just because you’re upset. My temper these days isn’t very good. If you hit me, I won’t run away—but remember, I’ll fight back. I’m still young, tough as leather, and can take a beating. But you, old man, aren’t so sure.”

End of Chapter 8: I’ll Fight Back