Chapter 149 Hit Me

Ding the Cripple had stayed in the military district guesthouse for six days straight. Except for meals taken downstairs in the dining hall, he barely stepped outside his room. It wasn’t until that mysterious fellow from Room 611 left that he finally checked out and went home.

Under the blazing midday sun, so bright it made it impossible to open one’s eyes, Ding the Cripple hobbled down the street, carrying a backpack stuffed with money. Only now did he feel truly safe. Perhaps he had overreacted before. The man who lived diagonally across from him was indeed a bit sneaky, and his bulked-up frame hardly suggested a good man, but he probably wasn’t targeting him specifically.

Walking alone at night can make anyone afraid of ghosts.

First stop was the bank. He deposited 220,000 yuan split between two cards: 100,000 yuan locked in a five-year term—dowry money for his daughter, absolutely untouchable—and another 100,000 in a savings account. Ding planned to quit his night watchman job, think about contacting old friends, find a way to open a small shop, do some business. Being disabled, the neighborhood might look out for him. The remaining 20,000 yuan he kept in his bag—not deposited—because having money on hand meant a little indulgence. His daughter was on holiday; he wanted to take her on a trip, maybe even travel a bit himself.

Without money weighing on his mind, he felt much lighter. At a nearby market, he bought some pig ears, then treats for his daughter—skewered meat, braised beef, and some cold mixed dishes to take home and enjoy with a drink. Strolling along Siyuan River, under the willow trees by the bank, he hummed a little tune, feeling content.

The Ding family’s home, built by the RB people back in the 1930s, was a three-story brick and concrete structure—old but incredibly sturdy. Old Ding lived on the second floor. Originally, two families shared one kitchen, but during Ding’s most prosperous years, he’d put in some money, bought out the neighbor’s half, and renovated it into a modest two-room apartment of over forty square meters. He and his daughter each had their own room, which solved many inconveniences.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside. His eyes immediately caught a pair of men’s shoes on the floor—definitely not his.

Suddenly, a startled cry came from inside—his daughter’s voice!

As a father, that cry instantly conjured a vivid image in his mind: his daughter and a man tangled up on the bed. Blood rushed to his head. Forgetting to even take off his shoes, he rushed two steps into her room and shoved the door open violently.

...

Since the casino incident, Ding the Cripple had kept a low profile. Xiao Cheng, preoccupied with misunderstandings involving the Busy Friend Group, hadn’t checked in on him either. Only after clearing some time did he think to call Ding, but the old man had no charger at the guesthouse, and his phone was long off. So Xiao Cheng came to the house instead.

Finding Ding absent, Xiao Cheng was about to leave, but Ding’s daughter, Ding Sina, invited him in. Unable to resist, he peeked into the girl’s room.

That glance revealed much.

Every girl harbors a princess dream, even the black-haired, black-stockinged school tough girl is no exception. The room’s pink hues dominated, filled with a dreamy girlish charm—nothing like the smoky-eyed big sister she was at school. And before Xiao Cheng, Ding Sina was as tame as a lamb.

But was it genuine?

Her white stand-collar blouse strained to contain the proud swell of her chest. A slight lean forward sent the neckline plunging tantalizingly. Her shoulder-length hair tied back into a ponytail looked neat and sporty. In summer at home, her yellow skirt barely covered half her thighs. Though the black stockings seemed unnecessary, they added a hint of mature allure.

The girl rested her feet on Xiao Cheng’s chair, listening to him with interest.

“A few days ago, I paid back the civil compensation your family was owed, gave it to your dad. So, you don’t have to hate me anymore, right?”

Mention of her father made Ding Sina purse her lips slightly. “Before this, I hit you, slapped you—do you still hate me?”

Xiao Cheng was speechless. Being hit on the body was bearable, but being bullied by a girl was a blow to his pride. Saying he didn’t hate her felt self-degrading; admitting hatred seemed petty.

“The court ordered your family to pay damages, which you’ve cleared. You owe me nothing now. Likewise, I don’t want to owe you.”

Xiao Cheng frowned. What did she mean by not wanting to owe him?

“You hit me before, so why not hit me back?”

The girl stood and leaned close, closing her eyes.

Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, skin flawless and soft as silk. Her long lashes fluttered with each breath, as if waiting—hoping even.

“Hit me,” Ding Sina said nervously.

When a girl closes her eyes and leans in like that, it’s rarely to invite a slap.

Xiao Cheng was flustered. Yang Liusan’s smiles and frowns were simple to read—through subtle expressions, he understood her completely. But Ding Sina, the dark school beauty, never followed the rules. Her actions were unpredictable, erratic. Even now, he couldn’t tell if she liked him or had other motives.

“Let’s put it this way: you were really harsh when you bullied me, and I thought about revenge. But I can’t bring myself to slap you back. Forget it. Let’s just say you were playing around with me.”

Ding Sina opened her eyes, disappointment shadowing her face. She turned to the window, back to Xiao Cheng. “It’s been a long time since anyone hit me…”

Xiao Cheng was puzzled. Was that a tone of regret?

“Since my mother died, my dad rarely hit me. The last time was when I was six—I stole twenty yuan from home. Later, when he got injured, I lived with my grandma for a while. When I came back, he was like that—he never hit me again, even when I talked back or smoked and drank…”

“If a girl fights and hangs around shady people, she deserves to be punished.”

Ding Sina turned back to Xiao Cheng. “I always thought if someone hit me, punished me because I did wrong, I’d become a good girl.”

Xiao Cheng struggled to keep pace with her.

His mind raced, weighing possibilities: first, maybe she really wanted to be hit; second, she was trying to lure him into striking her; third, she was testing boundaries to define their relationship through extreme conflict.

The first was plausible: a girl from a single-parent family with a dissolute father and an early loss of her mother might yearn for a father’s stern discipline, even if it turned into a form of masochistic desire. Like she said, being hit made her feel like a good girl.

The second possibility was that she wanted to frame him—get slapped first, then lure him into something, then report him.

The third was that she was uncertain about their relationship, constantly creating dramatic confrontations to understand each other better.

“I want to be a good girl. Punish me. Please,” Ding Sina pleaded once more, standing in front of Xiao Cheng with a look of fragile innocence.