Chapter Seventeen: Suicide

Little Tinker had never seen her mother. The old director had found her while taking a walk in the park, and she had grown up in the relatively sheltered environment of the orphanage. The first time she was held by a stranger, she burst into tears, so frightened that the old director’s heart ached for her.

The more Ling Tian thought about it, the more something seemed amiss. What trick was the other side playing?

“Director, has anything happened to Little Tinker recently?” Ling Tian asked, hoping he might find some clue from her.

“Nothing much has happened,” the old director replied, equally confused. Perhaps the other party really was here to adopt a child. “Oh, yes—when Old Wolf brought people to cause trouble a few days ago, Little Tinker got scared and fell.”

Ling Tian seemed to catch a glimmer of something, but couldn’t quite piece it together.

At that moment, Huang Ting had already lifted Little Tinker’s shirt. Her skin was mottled with blue and purple bruises, and on a child’s delicate skin, the marks looked even more glaring.

The reporters, as if on cue, began snapping photos the instant Huang Ting lifted Little Tinker’s shirt, their flashes going off incessantly.

“These bastards,” Ling Tian realized instantly, “if brute force doesn’t work, they turn to underhanded tactics. This is a smear campaign—they’ll use public opinion to get what they want.”

Sure enough, Huang Ting began to shout, her voice hoarse and full of outrage, “You monsters! How could you abuse a child? What have you done to my daughter? She’s so badly hurt! I’ll make these photos and videos public, let the whole society see your ugly faces!”

The old director panicked and hastily explained, “She was startled and fell herself. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Little Tinker—children don’t lie.”

But Little Tinker was too busy crying from fright to say a word.

Huang Ting suddenly stood up, pointing her finger right at the director’s nose, cursing, “You old bastard, always making excuses! Today you’d better give me an explanation, or I’ll fight you to the death!”

The old director was an honest man who had devoted his life to these unfortunate children. Now, being slandered like this, he was so furious that he trembled all over, unable to utter a word in his own defense.

“So, you have nothing left to say, do you, you old—”

Before she could finish, Ling Tian stepped forward and slapped Huang Ting hard across the face. She spun three times on the spot, spitting out two bloodied front teeth. Ling Tian, even in his rage, had held back; otherwise, that slap would have sent her head flying.

Stunned, Huang Ting staggered, needing a moment to realize what had happened. She shrieked, pointing at Ling Tian like a cornered shrew, “You… You actually hit a woman!” Her speech was slurred from her missing teeth, and blood dripped from the corner of her mouth.

Ling Tian had the staff carry Little Tinker back to the director, helped the old man into a seat, and used his inner energy to help calm him. Then he turned a cold gaze on Huang Ting. “In my eyes, there are only two kinds of people: those who deserve a beating, and those who don’t.”

“I can’t go on…” Huang Ting began to wail loudly, just like a troublemaking squatter, and made as if to dash her head against a nearby crooked tree. Perhaps worried that someone might not stop her in time, and she’d really die, she circled the tree, spotting some skipping ropes and a few small chairs.

She tied a rope to the tree, set up a noose, and stood on a chair, holding the loop with both hands. She shouted at Ling Tian, “You bastard, you dare hit me? I’ll hang myself right here today!”

“You’ve planned this well,” Ling Tian clapped, even more amused than anxious. “Tomorrow’s headlines will read: ‘Orphanage Abuses Child, Forces Her Birth Mother to Hang Herself.’ Be sure to film every detail, comrades—if you miss anything, the orphanage won’t make the front page!”

Ling Tian was confident and unafraid, but the old director was terrified. If Huang Ting really hanged herself, the orphanage would be finished. His own reputation was nothing, just empty fame, but he feared most for the children who would be left homeless.

“Don’t do anything foolish—let’s talk this through,” the director pleaded, hurrying to stop her.

“I’ll come down if you sign the contract. If not, I’ll hang myself here!” Huang Ting finally dropped all pretense, showing her true face.

Now the old director understood: this was a plot, carefully orchestrated by the Gu family, to force him into signing.

“Let me handle this,” Ling Tian said, settling the director again and taking Little Tinker’s cold hand. Smiling, he reassured her, “Don’t be scared, Little Tinker. Grandpa and Uncle are here.” As he spoke, he gently patted her back, comforting her softly.

Little Tinker, with tears still on her cheeks, nodded sweetly and nestled into the director’s embrace.

“I really will do it!” Huang Ting shouted to the crowd and the reporters, “You all saw it—the orphanage is forcing me to commit suicide!” The reporters trained their cameras on Ling Tian and Huang Ting, eager for tomorrow’s sensation.

“Take plenty of shots, and make them clear!” Ling Tian urged, not the least bit worried, even cheering them on. This left Huang Ting and the reporters completely bewildered—was this man insane?

“One last time: will you sign or not?” Huang Ting demanded, setting her neck into the noose, ready to end it if her demand was not met.

Ling Tian waved his hand dismissively. “The contract will never be signed, so go ahead and kill yourself if you must. Please, don’t let me stop you.” He sat down cross-legged, looking on as if watching a play. “I’ve never seen anyone hang themselves before, so don’t keep me waiting.”

Finally, Huang Ting sensed she had met her match. Usually, her opponents would have panicked by now—the more nervous they were, the better her plan worked. But this time, her opponent remained calm and unruffled.

“Don’t come crying to me later!” Huang Ting gritted her teeth. She decided to take the risk and go through with it. As long as she put on a good show, the reporters would get their photos, and her people would rescue her in time.

But as she thought about hanging herself for real, fear crept in. She’d watched plenty of horror films, and her mind was full of the miserable ghosts of the hanged. What if her people didn’t rescue her quickly enough?

Just as she hesitated, Ling Tian called out, “Wait.” He rose and walked toward her.

Huang Ting, thinking she had won, sneered, “Afraid now, aren’t you? Sign the contract, or you’ll regret it.”

Ling Tian grinned as he stood beside her. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m not here to stop you. I’ve been listening to you nag for ages, but you won’t just get on with it. It’s annoying.”

“What?” Huang Ting was stunned.

“Aren’t you here to kill yourself? Let me help you. According to every TV drama, now’s the time you kick the chair out. But these are the orphanage’s chairs—you can’t just break them. Let me help.”

Amid Huang Ting’s shriek, Ling Tian yanked the chair out from under her.

Losing her support, Huang Ting dropped, her neck caught in the noose. If the rope had been thick, it might not have hurt as much. But it was a thin skipping rope, biting sharply into her neck. Her face contorted in pain, her eyes rolled back, and she clung desperately to the rope with both hands, her legs kicking wildly.