Targeting the Eldest Miss ( 2)

Following Old Dong to his place, Lin Wanrong found it much like his own digs—a rundown thatched shack, barely holding together. Inside, a girl of seventeen or eighteen sat by the window, her delicate hands stitching something with care. Nearby, a scrappy fifteen- or sixteen-year-old kid in short, rough clothes eyed Lin Wanrong up and down, his sharp gaze darting around like a hawk sizing up prey.

"Qiaoqiao, hurry up and pour some tea—we've got a fancy guest!" Old Dong bellowed the second he stepped inside.

The girl at the window looked up—curved brows like a painter's stroke, eyes shaped like crescent moons, a pert little nose, and plump red lips. She was a goddamn knockout, a rare beauty who'd easily be the hottest chick in any department back at Peking University. Who'd have thought a sleazy old fart like Dong could produce a daughter this fine? Talk about a diamond in a dung heap.

Lin Wanrong grinned at Old Dong. "Uncle Dong, you're one lucky bastard."

Old Dong puffed up, chuckling. "Girl, this is Young Master Lin—come say hello."

Maybe because strangers—especially young guys—never dropped by, the girl, Dong Qiaoqiao, seemed shy as hell. Her cheeks flushed pink as she stepped forward, dipping into a graceful curtsy. "Greetings, Young Master Lin."

Lin Wanrong laughed, pointing at his toe poking through a worn-out shoe. "Miss Dong, don't flatter me—look at this sorry state. 'Young Master'? Hardly."

Dong Qiaoqiao caught sight of his exposed toe, paired with his cheeky tone, and couldn't help but giggle behind her hand. Her blush deepened, making her even cuter.

Dong Rende nodded toward the scruffy kid. "Qingshan, come meet Young Master Lin."

Dong Qingshan, all curiosity, sauntered over and bowed. "Greetings, Young Master Lin."

Lin Wanrong grabbed the kid's arm with a grin. "Uncle Dong, this your son?"

Dong Rende nodded, smirking. "Yup. This little punk's always loafing around, starting trouble—hope he doesn't embarrass us in front of you."

Lin Wanrong sized up Dong Qingshan. Barely fifteen or sixteen, but his eyes were sharp as knives, his vibe tough as nails. No shrinking violet—he had bruises and welts on his arms, probably from scrapping, yet he stood there cool as a cucumber, like it was nothing.

Lin Wanrong liked the kid instantly. "Little Brother Dong, you ever hit the books?"

Dong Qingshan shook his head. "Two years in a private school—got kicked out."

Dong Rende scowled. "Who told you to pick a fight with that Zhang kid?"

Dong Qingshan shot back, "He was bullying someone—I couldn't just watch. Next time he pulls that shit, I'll still beat his ass."

Old Dong's mustache bristled with anger, but Dong Qiaoqiao jumped in. "Dad, it's old news—don't keep scolding him."

Dong Rende clearly doted on his daughter. He glared at Qingshan once more but dropped it.

Lin Wanrong smirked inwardly and turned to Qingshan. "Kid, next time you're throwing punches, come find me. I'll figure out a way to keep the bastards off your back."

"For real?" Dong Qingshan's eyes lit up. No one had ever talked to him like this—especially not some scholarly-looking guy. His excitement was palpable.

Dong Rende and Qiaoqiao stared at Lin Wanrong. Old Dong was clueless about what he meant, while Qiaoqiao's gaze carried a hint of reproach—though paired with her shy, pretty face, it just made her hotter.

Lin Wanrong grinned at the father-daughter duo. "You keep Qingshan locked up, stopping him from scrapping on the streets—it's not working, is it? Am I right?"

Qiaoqiao glanced at her brother's bruises, a flicker of pain in her eyes. She met Lin Wanrong's gaze and gave a slight nod.

He pressed on. "Blocking him ain't the answer. Let him swing blindly and fuck up, or teach him what's worth fighting for, what's not—how to keep his losses low and his family safe."

Dong Qingshan's face brightened. "Yeah, exactly! Big Bro Lin, show me how!"

Smart kid—already ditched "Young Master" for "Big Bro." Lin Wanrong liked that.

Dong Rende scratched his head, lost, but Qiaoqiao's eyes flickered with understanding.

Lin Wanrong nodded at Old Dong. "Uncle Dong, trust me—Qingshan's fights'll taper off."

Qiaoqiao shot him a look. "Fewer fights, sure—but they'll get bigger."

"Miss Qiaoqiao's sharp as a tack," Lin Wanrong said, grinning with a touch of surprise. This chick wasn't just a pretty face—she'd already sniffed out his game.

A blush swept over Qiaoqiao's cheeks. "Young Master Lin flatters me. Just… please guide Qingshan right. Don't let him go astray."

Lin Wanrong chuckled. She was warning him not to corrupt her brother, but damn, she wrapped it up so sweet he couldn't help but laugh. "Sure, sure," he said, winking at her with a knowing grin.

Her face turned crimson, ears burning—she knew he'd caught her drift. Her little smarts felt useless against him.

But Lin Wanrong wasn't here to flirt with the girl. He shifted gears. "Uncle Dong, grab some paper." He cut it into four strips. "Find someone with nice handwriting to jot down everything you know about the Xiao family's eldest miss. Every detail—down to the dirt. Split it into sections: what she eats, call it 'The Eldest Miss and Her Grub'; what clothes she likes, 'The Eldest Miss's Style'—you get the gist. If four sheets ain't enough, cut more and keep going. Then get someone crafty to bind it into a booklet."

Dong Rende frowned. "Young Master Lin, what's this for? No need to look far—my daughter's got the handwriting and the skill."

"Oh?" Lin Wanrong raised a brow at Qiaoqiao. Didn't expect that.

Qiaoqiao blushed but didn't argue, even though she had no clue what her dad and Lin were cooking up.

"I'm targeting the Xiao eldest miss," Lin Wanrong said with a grin, his words hitting like a thunderclap.

Qiaoqiao's face went red—this guy's so damn bold, tossing out lines like that. Dong Qingshan, blunt as a brick, piped up, "Big Bro, you gonna bang the Xiao miss? Awesome—bring her back so I can check her out!"

Old Dong, who'd seen Lin Wanrong's tricks before, knew there was more to it. Still, this Lin kid played half-truths—maybe he was after her.

Lin Wanrong laughed. "Qingshan, get your head out of the gutter. I've never even seen her—how could I bang her? You think too little of your Big Bro."

Old Man Wei had screwed him over, forcing him into the Xiao household as a servant. Lin had no love for them—he'd squeeze some cash out of the eldest miss first, a little balm for his bruised ego before serving those rich bitches.

Qiaoqiao giggled, glancing at him. This Lin guy wasn't like the usual bookish types—his skin was thicker than a city wall.

Since Qiaoqiao could read and write, that made things easier—insiders were best. Lin Wanrong told Old Dong to leave blank spaces at the top of each page, varying sizes, no writing required