Chapter 82: By All Means, Never Let Your Son Die by My Hand

“Ruined by the Lu family.” Her father’s voice was muffled as he spoke, as though he’d been crying.

But Bai Lu was her father’s beloved little confidante, so she pretended not to notice.

“I guessed as much. Dad, the ones who poisoned grandma—it was your half-brothers, wasn’t it?”

Her father grunted in a low voice: “When I was sixteen, old man Lu intended for me to inherit the family business. Not long after, the Lu family poisoned me. I was lucky, tough enough that I didn’t eat the pastries. Your grandma loved those soft, glutinous cakes, and I usually ate them with her.”

Bai Lu clenched her fists. “Chairman Lu wouldn’t let you investigate, right? You’re his son, and so are the ones who poisoned you. To him, both sides are his flesh and blood. So the matter was just left unresolved, and grandma had to swallow this injustice.”

“Do you think I care what Lu Cheng says? I found out the truth. But your grandma wouldn’t let me take action.”

Her father truly cried then.

Tears fell onto her neck, burning her skin.

Like acid—scalding and painful.

Bai Lu’s nose tingled; she wanted to cry too. “Dad, you’re no dutiful son; you’re a rebel. Why bother with all these scruples? You should’ve acted first and reported later—kill the culprits and be done with it. Once they’re dead, grandma can’t bring them back no matter how angry she is.”

Lu Yiting trembled, his voice lowering abruptly. “Lu Xiaolu, you really are my daughter. You think just like me, but the result was—”

“Lu Yiting fired a bullet through his mother’s thigh.” Lu Cheng’s face remained stern, his cane striking the floor with a sharp, rhythmic sound.

“She wasn’t seriously hurt, but she could never dance again. She had been the brightest swan on the ballet stage.”

Lu Yiting’s body shook even harder, but now it wasn’t guilt or pain—it was fury.

Before her father could explode, Bai Lu stepped in front of him protectively, like a little hen bristling at danger. “Who are you, anyway? This is a private conversation between father and daughter—what business is it of yours? Why do you have to butt in? My dad can tell me himself; he doesn’t need you to play messenger. Sorry, but please keep your distance—we don’t welcome you.”

Lu Cheng only smiled, not angered. “As expected, you are Lu Yiting’s daughter—cut from the same cloth.”

Bai Lu forced herself to smile, not just any smile, but one that was sweet and innocent.

The sweeter the smile, the sharper her words: “Thank you. I should be like my dad—that’s the highest compliment you could give me. If I weren’t like him—if I were like someone who couldn’t protect his wife or son—then I’d rather slit my throat and end it all.”

For the first time, Lu Cheng’s stern face shifted.

Bai Lu raised her chin in defiance. “So you couldn’t protect your wife and son, huh? At least you can use family ties as a fig leaf. But if you can’t even avenge a wrong, you’re not fit to be called a man.”

Lu Cheng struck the floor hard with his cane. “Lu Xiaolu!”

“Yes, you have your difficulties—both sides are your flesh and blood. So the injustice is left for my dad and grandma to endure.” Bai Lu leaned against her father’s chest, her small body supporting him, drawing strength from him.

She met Lu Cheng’s sharp gaze, unwavering. “Chairman Lu, you’re wrong about one thing. Not only am I like my father, but I surpass him. I’m more vengeful, more ruthless. You failed to protect your son once; I hope this time you’ll do better. Whatever you do, don’t let your son die at my hands.”

“I, Lu Xiaolu, am naturally cruel, sly in my methods, wicked in my heart. I have only one virtue—I fiercely protect my own.”

After speaking, Bai Lu’s legs felt weak, but her father steadied her, gently whispering in her ear, “Lu Xiaolu, let’s go home—Dad will cook for you.”

Bai Lu thought: Spare me, Dad, with my performance today, you’d better not poison me.

Father and daughter not only shared temperaments, but were equally disastrous in the kitchen.

Speechless.

Lu Cheng’s straight back seemed to bend slightly as he gripped his cane. “Lu Xiaolu, did your father ever tell you that the daughter-in-law who harmed your grandmother was cast out of the family? After losing everything, she died of illness within two years. As for my son, I stripped him of his inheritance and broke both his legs.”

“Damn—”

“Chairman Lu, is this supposed to be a favor?” Bai Lu quickly covered her father’s mouth to stop his outburst, calmly countering, “Do you really see yourself as an emperor worshipped by all? Using the art of imperial balance in your own home? One suffers injustice, so you punish another to keep things even. I have a question for you: Did my father or grandmother ever covet the Lu family business? If they never did, why do you think giving it to my father means he owes you gratitude?”

Lu Yiting pushed aside his daughter’s hand. “I don’t need you—I can make a fortune on my own.”

“With the help of Gu Pianran, you fooled your old man and made your fortune.” Lu Cheng asked coldly, “Is that what you call independence?”

“Business is a battlefield, always full of intrigue. Chairman Lu, you made a mistake, fell for someone else’s scheme, and lost because you weren’t skilled enough. At the very least, you should have the dignity to accept defeat.” Bai Lu’s little mouth was sharp as ever. “Don’t be a sore loser, Chairman Lu.”

Lu Yiting had already experienced the sting of his daughter’s sharp tongue—now it was Lu Cheng’s turn to be infuriated.

Satisfaction is a single word.

No matter how many times you say it, it never gets old.

Lu Yiting ruffled his daughter’s hair. “Let’s go home. Dad will cook something delicious for you.”

“Thank you, Dad!” Bai Lu took his arm, and the two turned to leave.

They didn’t spare a single glance behind.

Lu Cheng remained where he stood, expressionless, watching their backs disappear.

“That little Lu—her tongue is even sharper than Ting’er’s!” Song Jinse stepped out from behind a column, quickly patting her husband’s back to calm him. “Don’t take it to heart, dear. You’re eighty now—mind your health.”

But Lu Cheng burst into hearty laughter, unrestrained and full.

Song Jinse was startled. “Have you lost your mind?”

Lu Cheng took her hand, smiling. “Jinse, the son you gave me is most like me. In temperament, in methods, in character and conduct. Only Ting’er resembles me. Now, it turns out Ting’er’s daughter is like me too.”

Song Jinse sighed, “You really have lost your mind. Is it dementia?”

“I’m just happy.” Lu Cheng showed rare tenderness, reserved for his wife. “My son, my granddaughter—they should be this way. Did they say anything wrong? No. I couldn’t protect my son or my wife. Ruthless in business, indecisive at home. Not only did I let you suffer, but I drifted apart from Ting’er. It’s my fault—I wasn’t resolute enough.”

Song Jinse said, “Let’s not talk about the past. Xiaolu has been spoiled by Ting’er; you mustn’t get angry with her.”

Lu Cheng’s face was aglow with happiness. “I’m not angry—I’m just grateful to have such a clever, cunning granddaughter. Jinse, my Ting’er is finally coming back to recognize me as his father.”

Song Jinse muttered, “Oh dear, you really have lost your mind. Is it senility?”

Lu Cheng: “…………”