Chapter 242 The Rich Folks in the Kids’ Boutique

• Hearing Mark Brooks promise in person, Ding Li and Chen Bai traded a look, faces warm with relief. Ten years gone, and Mark was no longer that fresh high school grad. Now he was the Defender, power unmatched. “Hard to get together like this—come on, come on, let’s eat!” Chen Bai hollered. Farm-raised chicken, garden veggies—Mark ate easy and happy. The meal stretched two full hours. When Mark was about to leave, Qingqing was brought over. “The little girl’s been crying for her dad,” the aunt who brought her said. When Qingqing saw Mark, she fidgeted with her fingers, shyly edging toward Chen Bai and Ding Li. Mark had already learned that Qingqing’s mom passed away two years ago. In the village, she had only a grandpa, who left last year, too. Now Xu Li had been sent to Sylverwood for treatment, so it was just her alone. Keeping her here was one way, sure, but she was still so little. If she missed her dad, she should get to see him. “Qingqing’s coming with me,” Mark told the two men. “Once Third Brother Xu gets past the danger, I’ll take Qingqing to Sylverwood to see her dad.” When Mark said “dad,” a spark of joy lit up Qingqing’s bright eyes, and she stole a few glances at this stranger of an uncle. “Sounds good. With you looking after her, we’re at ease,” Chen Bai said, smiling. “Come on, Qingqing. Want to go with Uncle to visit your dad?” Mark crouched and opened his arms to her. Qingqing was timid and looked to Chen Bai and Ding Li, hesitating. “Go with Uncle,” Chen Bai’s wife coaxed, crouching to her level. “Uncle will take you to the city to play, buy new clothes, even the dolls you like.” “Qingqing only wants Dad,” she piped, lips tightening, tears gathering again. “Okay. We’ll take you to see your dad,” Mark said, smiling. The little thing was so sharp—big, dewy eyes, cute as could be. Qingqing wavered, then walked to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Mark hugged her up and stood. “Uncle Chen, Uncle Ding, I’m heading out. Get your families ready—I’ll send people to pick you up the day after tomorrow.” “No rush for us. Do your thing,” Chen Bai said, casual. The two families walked Mark to the village entrance. Only after his car vanished around the bend did everyone head back. “Who would’ve thought, huh? Who would’ve thought,” Chen Bai kept marveling. “Yeah,” Ding Li said with a proud curl of his lips. On the rough mountain road, Mark turned on the car stereo and put on some soft tracks. Qingqing seemed into it. “Do you have ‘Little Star’?” “Little star? In broad daylight?” Mark pointed at the sky, teasing. “Mm… not that.” Qingqing wobbled her little head. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star… that one.” Mark tapped her little head lightly. “I’ll look.” On the lonely mountain highway, an SUV rolled steady for hours, “Twinkle, Twinkle” chiming along. A little after four in the afternoon, Mark carried the little girl up to a high-end kids’ boutique. “Qingqing, pick what you like. Uncle will buy.” He’d never bought clothes for a little girl before, so he just followed her lead. Qingqing was still timid, clutching one of Mark’s fingers as she crept toward a white dress, eyes shining. Mark smiled and reached for it. “My daughter’s taking this.” Before Mark could grab it, a man smacked the back of Mark’s hand with a sharp crack and snatched the dress, his voice hard and rude. Mark’s face cooled, and he cast him a frosty glance. The guy wore a high-end suit, shoes gleaming. Seeing Mark look over, the man even flicked his wrist to show off a watch worth hundreds of thousands, a cold smirk raising the corner of his mouth. “Uncle, Qingqing doesn’t want it anymore,” Qingqing said sensibly, tugging Mark’s finger to pull him away. Mark’s smile returned. He crouched again. “You’re thoughtful, kiddo, and giving way is good. But if someone pushes you around, you gotta fight for yourself, okay?” “Fight for myself? When Dad and I used to shop, he never dared argue with people. Or they’d beat him up.” Her clear eyes showed open confusion beneath her light brows. Mark’s expression tightened. He ruffled her hair gently. “With Uncle here, you don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you.” “Tch. Look at you, broke and playing child educator. Teaching her like that is just setting her up to fail. No money and still trying to be tough? Aren’t you scared your girl will get beaten to death out there?” The man sneered, full of contempt as his daughter tried the dress on. His jab drew stares. People gathered. Qingqing’s clothes were cheap and worn, out of place among the boutique’s little princesses and princes. Lots of kids watched her curiously. For kids, it was curiosity. For adults, it was something else entirely—faces curled with disgust. “Wrong place, right? You think you can afford to shop here?” a plump young woman said, eyes slanted with disdain. “I can’t stand these broke folks. Always preaching, just to fish for sympathy.” With someone jumping on his side, the man grinned, smug. “Exactly. Can’t afford a thing, but you gotta come in and touch everything. Hey, clerk—get over here. Every item they touched today? I’m not buying.” The shop assistant hustled over. She’d seen it all and knew the man was picking a fight, but she didn’t dare say it. “Aren’t you throwing them out?” someone prodded. “Kick them out!” Qingqing’s mouth quivered as she took in all those nasty faces, tears about to spill. “Qingqing, see them? They’re bad people. What do we do when we meet bad people—did your dad teach you?” Mark ignored the crowd, eyes on Qingqing, steady and focused. “Dad said to find a police officer,” she whispered. The crowd nearly doubled over laughing. “Trashy kids from broke homes get ruined by crap like that,” the man sniped. “You should tell her: no money means you’re beneath everyone. Call the cops? Who’ll care? You’re sick.” The assistant and the manager came over, spreading worry—this was about to blow up. “Okay. We’ll call the cops. Do you have the guts to tell the officer what happened?” Mark asked Qingqing, pulling out his phone. She squeezed his finger tight and saw the encouragement in his eyes. “Mm. Qingqing dares.” “Good.” Mark smiled faintly, then dialed the Enforcement Center using his private number. “Feeling bold, huh?” the rich man scoffed. “Fine, I’ll give you five hundred dollars. Take the cash and scram.” He slapped a wad of bills onto the floor, cold and contemptuous. “This is how you extort, huh? You people are broke and desperate,” the plump woman said, rolling her eyes. Others piled on, scolding Mark, waiting to see if he’d actually call. The line connected. In Glashill’s Enforcement Center, the dispatcher saw the special number flash and tipped off Mr. Hum. Mr. Hum hurried over to take the call. “Hello, this is the Enforcement Center of Glashill,” came the voice. “Officer, I… I’m Qingqing. My uncle and I are being bullied. Please… please help us,” Qingqing stammered. On the other end, Mr. Hum drew a deep breath. A little girl? Bullied? Her “uncle”… did she mean the owner of that number?