Siheyuan: Hang Jia Dongxu, smash Banggeng to death!

When Stephen Chow returned to the villa on the hillside, his wealthy adoptive father was already waiting for him in the hall.

The crystal chandelier cast a blinding light, and the wealthy adoptive father, dressed in a custom-made suit, looked extremely unpleasant.

Uncle Da stood to the side with his head down, not daring to look at him.

The adoptive father slammed his hand on the table: "Xingxing, you are not my son, he is your father."

He pointed to Uncle Da, "He used to be our family's butler, but he was fired. He is your biological father, not me."

Zhou Xingxing's mind went blank for a moment. He stood there looking at his adoptive father and then at Uncle Da, waiting for him to refute him. He waited for Uncle Da to shake his head and for his adoptive father to say, "I was just joking," but no one spoke.

Uncle Da kept his head down, not daring to look at him, while his adoptive father remained expressionless.

"Star, as long as you're willing to sever all ties with him..."

The wealthy adoptive father's voice softened somewhat, "You are still my son, and you can still enjoy the life of a young master."

Uncle Da stood to the side, gazing longingly at Stephen Chow, his lips moving as if he wanted to call out "son," but he didn't dare.

He knew he wasn't qualified; he was just a butler, with no money and no status.

He couldn't give his son anything, so he could only watch from the sidelines as his son made his choices, and he would accept whatever his son chose.

Stephen Chow looked at his adoptive father, then at Uncle Tat.

One was a wealthy man who had raised him for over twenty years, giving him the best life, the best schools, the best clothes, and the best cars since he was a child.

One was his biological father, who was poor and powerless and couldn't even support himself.

Who is it?

Isn't it obvious?

He is the eldest son of the Zhou family, living a life of luxury. How could he possibly go with a poor butler?

"Mr. Zhou, I understand. I'm willing to leave."

The wealthy adoptive father's face stiffened, and after taking a few steps, he stopped: "Fine, very well. Pack your things and get out of here right now."

Uncle Da advised, "Master, the young master is young and doesn't know any better, he..."

"snort!"

The wealthy adoptive father snorted coldly and left.

They drove away.

Uncle Da looked at Stephen Chow's desolate figure and wanted to go over to say something comforting, but then stopped.

He was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Stephen Chow slumped on the sofa, his mind a jumbled mess. He had gone from a rich young master to a penniless pauper, falling from the clouds into the mire.

Uncle Da stood to the side and said cautiously, "Son...I...I'll get you a glass of water."

"No."

Stephen Chow stood up and walked towards the stairs.

He walked very slowly, each step feeling like he was walking on cotton.

Uncle Da watched his retreating figure, wanting to follow him but not daring to, but in the end he did follow.

Lin Tian watched them argue quietly, while he stuffed his pockets full of gold bars and cash, all taken from the safe.

Just as I was about to leave, I suddenly saw a group of people rushing in from outside the gate. There were more than twenty burly men, each of them looking fierce and menacing, carrying machetes and iron pipes.

"Search it for me!"

Xiao Hu waved his hand, "That bastard Zhou Xingxing dares to mess with our boss's woman? He's got a death wish! Find him and break all three of his legs!"

More than twenty people rushed into the villa.

Lin Tian frowned. He knew this was the plot of "The God of Cookery". Stephen Chow would be beaten half to death, then transformed into an artificial human, and finally gain the ability to transform.

If he had stepped in to help, Stephen Chow wouldn't have become the God of Change, and the plot would have gone awry.

After thinking about it, he decided not to make a move.

Inside the villa, Uncle Da was helping to pack things up.

Actually, he didn't have much to pack; he came empty-handed. He just wanted to find something to do to avoid embarrassment.

When I heard a commotion of footsteps downstairs, I was startled and ran to the window to look out—more than twenty burly men were rushing in, all carrying weapons.

His face turned pale.

"Stars! Stars! Come down quickly! Someone's coming, with weapons."

Stephen Chow is packing his luggage in his room. His adoptive father told him to get out, and he really will, but he won't just slink away like that.

He was thinking about what to do next, but before he could come up with a solution, he saw Uncle Da rush in.

"What's wrong?"

"Someone's coming! Lots of people! Carrying knives!" Uncle Da grabbed him and ran outside. "Quick, hide!"

The two ran down to the first floor and hid in the storage room under the stairs.

The room was cramped and cluttered with miscellaneous items. The two people were crammed together, barely daring to breathe.

The hurried footsteps outside grew closer, and someone shouted, "Search! Search every room! Don't let him escape!"

Stephen Chow lowered his voice: "Hide well and don't make a sound."

Uncle Da nodded, not daring to speak, his palms sweating with nervousness, when suddenly his stomach growled.

He quickly covered his stomach, sweat beading on his forehead.

Someone outside is saying, "Look here, it's not there."

The footsteps grew closer and closer.

Uncle Da was so nervous that his guts were twisted together. He held it in, held it in, until finally he couldn't hold it in anymore.

"puff--"

A muffled thud.

There was a moment of silence outside.

"Over here! Down the stairs!" someone shouted.

Uncle Da's face turned pale, and his lips trembled as he said, "That...son, I...I'm sorry."

Stephen Chow looked at him, his lips twitching slightly. He wanted to say "It's okay," but couldn't bring himself to say it. He just said with a straight face:

"It's alright, they're here for me. This is my fault. You hide, I'll handle it."

He grabbed the baseball bat leaning against the wall and rushed out of the storage room.

"son!"

Uncle Da reached out to grab him, but he couldn't; he only grasped at thin air.

Zhou Xingxing rushed into the living room, just as Xiao Hu and his men came downstairs. More than twenty people blocked him in the middle of the living room.

Little Tiger, toothpick dangling from his mouth, tilted his head and looked at him: "Zhou Xingxing, you've got some nerve, daring to mess with our boss's woman?"

Stephen Chow held the baseball bat, looking at the group of people, his calf cramping slightly.

He had worked as a traffic policeman and had some martial arts training, but he wasn't confident in dealing with more than twenty burly men wielding machetes.

But when he turned around, he saw Uncle Da standing behind him, holding a baseball bat in his hand, his legs and hands trembling.

"Didn't I tell you to hide? Why are you out here?"

Uncle Da looked into his eyes: "You are my son."

Stephen Chow was stunned for a moment, a feeling he couldn't quite describe welling up inside him. This was the first time someone had told him, "You are my son."

Uncle Da looked at him, his eyes filled with fear, nervousness, and a gentle firmness.

Stephen Chow turned his head and said in a low voice, "Be careful."

Uncle Da was secretly delighted and almost laughed out loud, but the occasion was inappropriate.

Little Tiger grew impatient, spat out the toothpick, and waved his hand: "Go!"

More than twenty people rushed up.

Stephen Chow swung his baseball bat, thump thump thump, and knocked down three people in a few blows.

But two fists can't fight four hands, and soon he was hit by several blows.

Uncle Da fared even worse; he was pinned to the ground and beaten by several men, his baseball bat long since lost.

He curled up on the ground, clutching his head, and let out a pitiful howl.

Someone hit him on the leg with a stick, and with a crack, the bone broke, and he screamed in agony.

"Son! Run! Don't worry about me!" Uncle Da roared. "Go find your foster father! He'll take you in!"

Stephen Chow's eyes reddened.

……