The Young Master Plays Favorites

After breakfast, Shen Jingchuan and Lin Qingyao were sitting in the pavilion in the backyard, whispering sweet nothings and flirting, when Bai Ruoli woke up and got up, slowly walking over with Qinghe's help.

Lin Qingyao glanced up and saw Bai Ruoli's unsteady steps and the faint blush still on her cheeks. She immediately glared at Shen Jingchuan, spat, and rolled her eyes. Then her gaze returned to Bai Ruoli, with a teasing smile, "Little weakling."

Bai Ruoli felt embarrassed by her gaze and didn't even dare to greet her. She lowered her head and quickly went to the second courtyard to have breakfast, only returning after finishing her meal.

Seeing that everyone had arrived, Shen Jingchuan got up and led the group towards the back garden. Upon arriving, he immediately instructed Su Qingshu and Su Qinghua to fetch some planks from the stables, then addressed the remaining group:

"Please wait here for a moment, I'll go to the west warehouse to get something."

Upon arriving at the west warehouse, he first pulled out a toolbox, then grabbed a rough burlap sack. From the storage space, he took out a pistol, a submachine gun, a silencer, and boxes of bullets, stuffing them all into the sack until it was full.

He carried his toolbox in one hand and a sack in the other as he walked back. Just as he stepped into the garden gate, he saw Su Qingshu and Su Qinghua carrying planks toward him, a total of five or six planks of various sizes.

Shen Jingchuan put down his things, took out a hammer and nails from his toolbox, picked out a few relatively flat ones, and nailed them one by one onto the garden wall to make temporary targets.

After securing the nails, he dusted off his hands and gestured with his chin towards the row of girls standing in a row. "Today I'll teach you how to shoot."

As he spoke, he bent down and opened the sack, first taking out five pistols, and handed them out one by one to the four maids, Su Qingshu, Su Qinghua, Yue'er, Ju'er.

The group examined the heavy iron weapon from all angles, their eyes filled with curiosity. Xiao Yue'er, the most curious, held the gun close to her face, trying to peer inside the muzzle.

Shen Jingchuan reacted quickly, raising his hand to slap her on the back of the head with a sharp crack.

"Do you want to die?"

Xiao Yue'er was startled, clutching the back of her head and standing there stunned. Her big eyes were wet and she looked at him with a wronged expression, not understanding what was going on for a long time.

Shen Jingchuan didn't waste any more words with them, picked up a gun and started fiddling with it.

This was actually the first time he had ever handled a real one. He had only seen its general appearance in games before, and he hadn't dared to learn from anyone in Pakistan, so he had to figure it out from memory.

He awkwardly attached the silencer to the muzzle, then clicked the magazine into the grip, aimed at the wooden board on the wall, and pulled the trigger—the gun didn't fire at all.

He paused, then realized he had forgotten to turn off the safety. His fingertips touched the safety lever on the gun, clicked it off, and pulled the trigger. With a muffled thud, the bullet landed firmly on the wooden board.

As a cultivator at the Qi Refining Second Layer, his arm remained perfectly still, and the recoil of the pistol was negligible to him. He pulled the trigger seven or eight times in a row, and at a distance of twenty or thirty meters, almost all the bullets hit the same spot, sending wood chips flying and creating a deep bullet hole in the blink of an eye.

The two wives and five maids stared wide-eyed, standing rooted to the spot, not daring to breathe.

Shen Jingchuan lowered his gun, glanced at the group, and said in a deep voice:

"Now you know why you can't point a gun at the muzzle? Remember this well, these things are very dangerous. The muzzle should only be pointed at the enemy, never at yourself, and certainly never at your family and friends."

This isn't just about Yue'er; all of you must remember, there's absolutely no room for jokes.

Shen Jingchuan said no more, took the girls' hands, and corrected their gun-holding postures, explaining in detail the key points of disengaging the safety and aiming.

He'd only been teaching him a couple of moves when Lin Qingyao, who'd been watching for a while, couldn't hold back any longer. She strode over, snatched the gun from his hand, and tilted her head, scolding him playfully:

"Husband, you only teach them, why don't you let me try too?"

"What's the rush? Everyone gets a share."

Shen Jingchuan smiled and shook his head, then took a fully loaded magazine from the sack and handed it to her, guiding her hand with his fingertips to show her how to load the magazine and engage the safety.

"Look carefully, this is the safety mechanism. You can't pull the trigger unless you pull it..."

Lin Qingyao had practiced martial arts since childhood, so she was physically strong, had very steady arms, and learned things quickly. She mastered the skills after only one lesson.

She stood ramrod straight, holding the gun, squinting at the wooden plank twenty or thirty paces away. With a flick of her finger, she pulled the trigger, and with a muffled thud, the bullet struck the center of the plank. Her accuracy was far superior to that of the young girls.

Then Shen Jingchuan took out a submachine gun from the sack, examined it thoroughly for a while, and finally figured it out, found the right slot, inserted the magazine, and released the safety.

He raised his gun, aimed it at the wooden target, and with a flick of his finger, fired a series of muffled thuds. In the blink of an eye, a magazine of bullets was emptied, leaving the wooden board riddled with bullet holes and splinters of wood flying everywhere.

The women in the courtyard were all stunned, Yue'er was so shocked that she stuck out her tongue and didn't retract it for a long time.

Bai Ruoli stood to the side, her fingertips gripping the hem of her clothes, her eyes filled with eager anticipation.

Standing behind her young mistress, Qinghe watched as the four maids all held guns while she remained empty-handed, and a thought quietly crept into her mind—why wasn't she the only one left out?

Could it be in the morning?... I didn't... She blushed and didn't think any further, only puffing out her cheeks, feeling a little wronged and thinking to herself that her son-in-law was too biased.

She was lost in thought when she heard Shen Jingchuan beckon to her, "Qinghe, come here."

Qinghe was taken aback, then quickly walked over, her cheeks still slightly puffed out, and looked up at him.

Shen Jingchuan was a little puzzled by her sullen appearance, but didn't ask further. He simply handed her the submachine gun, saying, "This gun is awesome. Here, I'll teach you how to shoot it."

Qinghe's eyes lit up instantly, and the little bit of resentment in her heart vanished in an instant—it turned out that the young master was saving something even more powerful for her; it seemed that he still valued her the most.

She happily accepted it. Shen Jingchuan stood behind her, holding her hand and teaching her how to hold the gun and brace it against her shoulder. He groped her all over, but she didn't feel disgusted at all. After all, she would be his sooner or later. Her face flushed, she focused intently on the target and listened carefully to the instructions.

"You've grown up now, you're a young lady. If you're going to have fun, then have some real fun," Shen Jingchuan said casually.

Qinghe's mind wandered again. She pursed her lips and remained silent, only nodding slightly.

When she felt it was about time, Shen Jingchuan let go and let her try it herself. Qinghe took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

The recoil of a submachine gun is significantly greater than that of a pistol. Caught off guard, she jerked the muzzle upwards, sending bullets whizzing through the air, soaring over the courtyard wall and heading straight for the west courtyard. Startled, she didn't release the trigger; instead, she gripped it even tighter, her fingers clenching it so tightly that a burst of bullets poured out.

"Let go! Stop holding on!" Shen Jingchuan quickly reached down and pressed down on the gun butt, his voice almost cracking as he shouted.

But the more nervous Qinghe became, the tighter she gripped the gun. She didn't let go until the entire magazine was emptied and the gun clicked shut, her face pale.

Fortunately, most of the bullets flew into the air, while the latter half were suppressed by Shen Jingchuan, with most hitting the base of the wall and the ground. There was no noise outside, and no one was injured.