Fatty: "..."
"How does it feel? Smooth as silk, right?"
Fatty didn't answer, but he knew the doctor's words could very well come true. Like father, like son—none of Mr. Wu's children were easy to deal with. They were all ruthless when it came to ripping people off.
The car rounded a bend, jolting along the mountain road and waking the boy, who had been lying on his side. The first thing he did was check that his tattered cloth bag was still there. He'd been using it as a pillow.
Jiang Cheng found it amusing and teased him, saying he was a little miser despite being so young. What could a tattered bag and a few newspapers inside be worth? Enough to buy four dishes if he sold them?
The boy was still a little afraid of him, but he naturally felt closer to Fatty. He couldn't help edging toward Fatty, and only after getting closer did he seem to find the courage to talk back to Jiang Cheng. "It has nothing to do with money. There's a treasure in here!"
Jiang Cheng laughed even harder. "You call newspapers a treasure?"
"They're not newspapers! It's a treasure!"
The boy's face turned red with anger. As if in a huff, he opened the bag and carefully removed the newspapers layer by layer. Then he wiped his hands on his clothes, taking great care to clean them. Only then did he reach inside and pull a small bundle wrapped in red cloth from the bottom of the bag.
The boy looked solemn. The whole process was almost ceremonial.
Jiang Cheng and Fatty couldn't help growing curious. They leaned toward the boy, eyes widening slightly, but he shot Jiang Cheng a wary look and clutched the red bundle tightly.
Seeing this, Fatty