Call Me Uncle

The spout of the purple clay teapot tilted, and the reddish-brown tea poured into the cup, with warm steam rising and a rich fragrance filling the air.

"This is the life, huh? Starting to enjoy things now?"

Lin Mo picked up his teacup and took a light sip. It was ripe Pu'er tea that cost several hundred bucks an ounce. The tea was mellow and smooth, and a comforting warmth flowed down his throat straight into his stomach.

Old Yang narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his recliner with a look of utter contentment.

"I thought about it carefully. I'm getting old anyway, and my shop and house are worth a good amount of money. That brat of mine won't leave me out to dry, so why should I bother hoarding all this cash?"

He patted his chest. "A couple of days ago, my chest felt tight, so I went to the hospital for a check-up. Well, what do you know, my blood pressure was a bit high. The doctor told me to relax and let things go. And the moment I did, hey, my mind felt at ease, and even the tea tastes better than before."

The two of them just sat there in the recliners under the banyan tree, chatting and drinking tea. Even folks from Chengdu would have to praise it as a truly comfortable life.

Lin Mo had taken care of far too many people last night. Now, chatting and drinking tea with Old Yang was exactly what he needed to alleviate that lingering sense of discomfort.

There wasn't much sun today; the sky was overcast, which was the most typical weather around the Dragon Boat Festival.

It was just right for cooling off under the tree.

Right at that moment, Old Man Wang from next door strolled over with his hands behind his back, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

"Heh, anyone who didn't know better would think Young Lin is your grandson."

Old Yang waved his hand dismissively. "I don't have that kind of blessing."

Lin Mo set down his teacup and chuckled along. "Old Man Wang, Old Yang and I are friends despite the age gap. With just one sentence, you've completely downgraded my seniority."

"What's wrong with that?"

Old Man Wang winked mischievously. "You just want to take advantage and have his Little Yang call you 'Uncle' when he sees you, don't you?"

Old men really had no filter when it came to joking around.

Who would have thought that Old Yang would actually play along? He suddenly sat bolt upright, making the recliner creak loudly.

"Why shouldn't he? When that boy comes over, I'll absolutely make him serve tea to Lin Mo and respectfully call him 'Uncle'!"

Right at this moment, two figures approached from a distance.

As soon as the words left his mouth, two figures, one tall and one short, walked up to the entrance of the alley.

The closer they got, the more familiar they looked.

Wasn't it Little Yang and his precious grandson, Little Yang Jr.?

"Dad! Uncle Wang."

"Grandpa! Grandpa Wang!"

Two crisp voices rang out, and the alley instantly grew so quiet that only the rustling of the wind blowing through the banyan leaves could be heard.

Lin Mo let out a snort and quickly grabbed his teacup to take a huge gulp. But even the scalding hot tea couldn't suppress his wildly twitching lips, and his shoulders shook uncontrollably.

Beside him, Old Man Wang's face was flushed red. He wanted to laugh but didn't dare, his entire wrinkled face turning the color of pig liver from holding it in.

Only Old Yang froze completely stiff, the boastful bravado from a moment ago vanishing without a trace.

That motherfucking little brat. When I tell you to come, you never do, and when I don't want you here, you just pop out of nowhere.

He felt his newly lowered blood pressure threatening to spike right back up again.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was a man who cultivated inner peace now and shouldn't get angry.

"Come here, this is your Uncle Lin, your Lin..."

"Alright, Old Yang." Lin Mo quickly stood up to interrupt him and patted Old Yang on the shoulder.

"Don't shorten my lifespan. Go see your grandson. I'll keep an eye on your shop for you."

Old Yang shot him a grateful look and didn't stand on ceremony. "Alright, I'll be off then."

Saying that, he turned his head and glared at his son, then dragged his grandson toward his own shop, muttering under his breath, "You damn kid, why didn't you even call before you came..."

After grabbing a few things, Old Yang took his son and grandson to a teahouse to drink tea.

Their voices gradually faded away.

Lin Mo sat back down and poured himself another cup of tea, the hot steam continuing to rise in a misty haze.

Since it was still early before the evening self-study session, Lin Mo just wanted to lie there for half the day.

His divine sense rippled outward like water, and all the sights and sounds in the vicinity flowed clearly into his mind, with nowhere to hide.

There was no TikTok yet, but wasn't sweeping with divine sense far more interesting than scrolling through short videos?

Lin Mo lay under the banyan tree, his divine sense echoing through the surroundings.

"Brother Jing, I've learned a lot of new poses. Shall we practice cultivation tonight?"

Do elaborate on this cultivation.

"The wholesale price for this batch is just a few dozen bucks, and we can sell it for several hundred. We're making a killing! Me taking a 25 percent cut isn't too much, right?"

"Next time you find easy marks like them, introduce a few more to me."

Profiteer!

"Brother, why don't we go to Europe? We can find a small country where no one will ever know us."

"Alright, I'll listen to you. We'll leave this place."

Lin Mo raised an eyebrow.

German Orthopedics?

He silently booked an appointment for this pair of siblings in his mind.

Lin Mo watched in utter amazement and shock, completely unable to comprehend it all.

He was just about to retract his divine sense. At least novels had some logic to them, but this thing called reality was simply too magical.

But in the very next second, an even more magical event unfolded right before his eyes.

The ear-piercing roar of two engines approached from a distance, tearing through the tranquility of the small street.

Two vehicles, one in front and one behind, were speeding toward the narrow road on this side. Judging by their aggressive posture, they came with ill intentions.

The vehicle in front was a television station news van, with a press pass prominently displayed on the dashboard.

The greatest use for that pass was probably getting free parking in many places around the city.

Lin Mo's divine sense penetrated the car window, and he saw that familiar, beautiful face.

Jiang Chengyue.

His eyelid twitched.

However, Lin Mo still saw Jiang Chengyue sitting in the car.

Sure enough, the danger level of a local news reporter was not the slightest bit lower than that of a war correspondent.

It was already 2013, and there were actually still people out there who dared to chase down and ram a reporter's van?

Well, it wasn't completely unheard of. After all, incidents of people directly blocking reporter vans would become commonplace later on.

But this was Yangcheng, a top-tier city, for crying out loud.

Bang!

With a dull, heavy crash, the front of the news van slammed solidly into the stone bollard at the entrance of the inner street.

Heavy-duty materials had been used when this stone bollard was built. Let alone a news van, even if the Deja Vu drift king drove an AE86 over here, it would be stopped dead in its tracks.

And so, the news van carrying Jiang Chengyue was blocked at the intersection.

A large section of the front hood was caved in, and white smoke billowed into the air.

The ear-piercing screech of tires rubbing against the asphalt tore through the silence of the street corner.

Before the people in the front vehicle could even react, the vehicle behind it, a Wuling Hongguang often jokingly referred to as the Guangdong-Guangxi Infantry Carrier, executed a drifting tail-whip completely unfitting of its cheap price tag, ruthlessly blocking the middle of the road.

Its cold chassis acted like an iron wall, completely sealing off the news van's route of retreat.

Clatter!

The car doors were violently yanked open from the outside, and over a dozen burly men poured out in single file. Their movements were so uniform that at first glance, they looked just like old Chiang's...

Every single one of these men had a menacing look on his face and bulging muscles. One look was enough to tell they were frontline professionals who spent their days running around.

The man leading them sported a buzz cut and had a knife scar stretching from his eyebrow all the way behind his ear. He tapped the window of the news van lightly with the steel pipe in his hand, producing a dull thumping sound.

"Get the hell out."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable tone of command.

Seeing no movement from inside the car, a yellow-haired lackey beside him immediately stepped forward and started shouting.

"Are you deaf? Get out of the car right now!"

"Refusing to open the door, huh? Fine, then we'll smash this piece of junk into a pancake!"

Meanwhile, three people slowly stepped out of the crashed news van.

The carriage door finally opened.