Bastard 06

Fang Zhiyi's eyes burned with fury. "You hear me?"

The factory manager frowned. "That doesn’t justify hitting someone without cause!"

Fang Zhiyi smirked. "I don’t care about cause—I care about who’s on my side. That bastard harassed my sister. Are you handling it, or do I have to?"

Horse-Face Man staggered to his feet. "You hit me! I’ll call the police!"

Fang Zhiyi cracked his neck. "Go ahead. I’ll take my punishment, and when I get out, I’ll hit you again."

The factory manager’s voice turned stern. "Young man, this won’t end well for you. Police records tarnish reputations."

Fang Zhiyi spread his arms. "Reputation? Ask around—when has mine ever been good?"

The manager glanced at Fang Wanyun, realization dawning.

"If you’re resigning, just process the paperwork," he muttered, turning to leave.

"Manager, he attacked me—" Horse-Face Man pleaded, still shaken by the slaps. Fang Zhiyi’s threats had cowed him; now his only hope was the manager’s intervention.

"Hold it," Fang Zhiyi snapped. "What about him harassing my sister? What’s that count for?"

The manager paused. "Must you escalate this?"

Fang Zhiyi scowled. "Escalate? It was already escalated. Or are you blind?"

The manager sighed. "If this spreads, how will your sister face people?"

Fang Zhiyi laughed bitterly. "So the victim’s to blame now? Little Shanzi! Call the cops! I admit I hit him—and everyone here will testify! This factory harbors a predator. Mark my words, the whole city will know this place shields degenerates."

Fang Wanyun moved to pull him back, but he shielded her instead.

"If they’re this bold in public, imagine what happens behind closed doors!"

"You—!" The manager was at a loss.

Fang Zhiyi raised his voice. "They say women hold up half the sky—but scum like this drags society down! Am I right?"

"Right!" A female worker stood abruptly. "Call the police! He’s always groping us under the guise of ‘inspections’!"

"Exactly! Report him!"

One voice sparked others.

Horse-Face Man’s face was now an indistinct mess of swelling and redness, his defiance reduced to silent glaring.

The police arrived swiftly. In an era without surveillance, witness testimony was crucial. After gathering statements, Fang Zhiyi and Horse-Face Man were both hauled away.

"Sis, go to the stall first. Mom’s waiting. I’ll catch up later," Fang Zhiyi said breezily.

Fang Wanyun couldn’t speak. For the first time, she felt her younger brother’s protection—but she dreaded the consequences.

The Fang household was tense until Fang Zhiyi walked through the door.

"Thank heavens!" Fang’s Mother rushed to inspect him. Fang Zhiyi grinned. "Relax, I was just being a good Samaritan."

Old Fang snorted. "Samaritan? You’d do better staying out of trouble!" He retreated to his room without another word.

Fang’s Mother whispered, "Don’t mind him. He was pacing earlier, ready to storm the station for you."

Fang Zhiyi chuckled, then noticed Fang Wanyun’s tears.

"At least he’s not rotten to the core," Li Cuixia muttered. Fang Dingbang elbowed her, and she grumbled under her breath.

"Enough gloom! Money time!" Fang Zhiyi announced.

That day’s earnings totaled seventy-two yuan, lifting the family’s spirits.

Fang Zhiyi distributed the cash immediately—everyone except Old Fang and his eldest brother got a share. Old Fang grumbled, "Should’ve paid debts first, not handed out money."

The reminder of Fang Zhiyi’s past gambling debts cast a shadow.

"Take it," Fang Zhiyi insisted. "We’ll earn this much daily—debts will be cleared in no time."

His confidence steadied them. Li Cuixia pocketed her share at once.

Fang Zhiyi sketched new designs while Fang’s Mother enlisted neighbors to sew older styles. The latest creations were kept in-house.

But imitation was inevitable. Soon, knockoffs flooded the market—cheaper, courtesy of Fang Wanyun’s former factory.

Fang Wanyun fumed. "They’re exploiting their factory connections!"

Sales dipped. Without Fang Zhiyi’s relentless innovation, their business might’ve collapsed.

"I’m giving them a piece of my mind!" Fang’s Mother marched toward the door, Li Cuixia at her heels—eager for a fight.

Fang Zhiyi stopped them. "What’s there to argue? No law against copying. You’ll just come back angrier."

After calming them, he tallied their savings. Enough to repay debts, with a little left.

"I’ve got another idea," he said.

The next day, Fang Zhiyi, Fang Wanyun, and Li Cuixia (on leave) set up stalls in different locations. Fang Zhiyi’s sign read:

"Trendy hair ties—all styles, all sizes! Eight for one yuan!"

The bargain drew crowds, especially young women. Though profits were slim, volume soared. His designs outpaced the copycats.

Days later, Little Shanzi found him.

"Fang-ge, I think I found that guy you described."

Fang Zhiyi stiffened. "Seriously?"

Little Shanzi hesitated. "Maybe? You said to look for someone odd but handsome, the type girls notice..."

"Where?"

"Outside the night school, selling junk from a cart."

Fang Zhiyi beamed, clapping Little Shanzi’s shoulder.

That evening, chaos erupted at home: Fang Zhiyi took all their savings without explanation and vanished.

The family’s hearts sank.

"He fooled us all!" Li Cuixia seethed. She’d believed he’d changed—only for him to betray them spectacularly.

Even Fang Dingbang didn’t defend him.

Old Fang exhaled smoke, heavy with disappointment.

Fang Wanyun lowered her head—then lifted it. "Little Brother isn’t that person."