Chapter 30: My Brother Loves to Flirt

“What a fine Eagle Claw! I’m going to break your Eagle Claw.” With a thunderous shout, Henry charged at Liu Huagang once more. Even before he reached him, a swift and powerful whip kick sliced through the air.

But Liu Huagang suddenly sprang upward, his legs kicking off the ground like a great eagle taking flight. He dodged the incoming kick in an instant, and his claws streaked forth, swift as lightning, aiming straight for Henry’s head.

Henry, lifting his head ever so slightly, found the deadly talons suddenly right before his eyes. His face changed dramatically, as if a fierce eagle had pounced upon him and he himself had become a helpless chick, defenseless before its might.

A cry tore from Henry’s lips as his head suffered a brutal blow. Blood streamed down, and with a pained wail, he collapsed to the ground.

Chen Erpao narrowed his eyes, replaying Liu Huagang’s move in his mind. If his guess was correct, this was the famed “Eagle Soars the Sky.” Many could mimic the form of this technique, but few could wield its true power—it was all show and no substance. Liu Huagang, however, had truly mastered the art of Eagle Claw, his strikes as swift as lightning and devastatingly forceful.

Then, as before, the next scene unfolded: the five remaining underage girls were brought onto the stage.

“I don’t want them. I only want the prize money that’s owed to me,” Liu Huagang said coldly, not giving the girls so much as a glance.

“You really won’t pick one?” the man with the microphone asked with a lewd grin. “Look at her—barely developed, so fresh and tender! You’ll regret it, you know.” As he spoke, he strolled over to one of the underage girls and grabbed her not-yet-fully-developed chest, kneading it roughly, completely ignoring the pain on her face.

“Just give me the money,” Liu Huagang replied, glancing briefly at the girl, still refusing without hesitation.

The man, seeing this, said no more. He signaled for someone to lead Liu Huagang backstage. The night’s matches were over; fights were held only on Saturdays and Sundays, with just two bouts each night.

As the crowd dispersed, those inside the arena didn’t leave immediately—winners hurried to cash in, losers rushed to cover their bets. The greatest profit of this underground fighting ring came from enticing the audience to gamble. Some won hundreds of thousands in a single night, but far more lost sums just as great.

After escorting Wang Xing back to school, Chen Erpao drove his Mercedes to the entrance of Old Yang’s food stall. The place was bustling with business. Suddenly, a luxurious S-Class Mercedes pulled up outside the humble street eatery, drawing the attention of most patrons. Old Yang himself came out, curiosity in his eyes.

Chen Erpao stepped out of the car unhurriedly, smiling slightly at Old Yang’s startled expression.

“Erpao, it’s been a few days—I almost didn’t recognize you! I knew you weren’t an ordinary fellow.” Old Yang didn’t know much about cars, but he could just about recognize the Mercedes logo. If he realized this S-Class was worth over a million, who knows what he’d think.

“How’s business these days?” Chen Erpao asked warmly.

Old Yang grinned, always sincerely glad to see Chen Erpao. “Business is just getting better and better! With all this development going on, more people are around and business has picked up. And just the other day, I heard that one of the top enforcers under the boss of Tuen Mun, Yellow-Haired, got beaten up badly. Wasn’t you, was it? Strangely enough, all the street punks have vanished, and we’ve been told no one will be coming around for protection fees anymore.”

“That day he and his men pushed me too far. As I say, if people don’t bother me, I won’t bother them. But if they cross me, I’ll make sure they never forget it,” Chen Erpao said lightly. In Old Yang’s eyes, Chen Erpao seemed all the more extraordinary.

They chatted for a while, then Chen Erpao found an excuse to leave—not wanting to keep Old Yang from his busy business.

A few minutes later, he arrived at his doorstep. It was nearly midnight, and just as he was about to go inside, he heard the television still blaring from Wang Xuemei’s room.

He went over and knocked on her door. “Xuemei, why aren’t you asleep yet?”

The door opened shortly, and Wang Xuemei looked at Chen Erpao with a touch of annoyance. “You were out with Wang Xing almost all night and didn’t spend any time with me. I was so bored!”

After closing the door, Chen Erpao affectionately slipped an arm around her slender waist, breathing in her intoxicating scent as desire stirred within him.

“See? It’s not even midnight yet. I’m home. Haven’t you heard? Any man who comes home before midnight is a good man.”

“Says who?” Wang Xuemei shot him a skeptical look.

Chen Erpao grinned. “Remember it well! Chen Erpao says so, haha.”

“Like an old woman selling melons—praising your own wares!” Wang Xuemei retorted, rolling her eyes. The look she gave him was so full of charm that Chen Erpao could barely resist kissing her right then and there.

“Then let me see for myself how your melons look!” Chen Erpao laughed heartily as his hands quickly found her firm breasts. Under her nightgown, she wore no bra, and his large hands roamed freely, savoring the sensation.

“Stop it! You’re horrible,” Wang Xuemei cried, her face flushing with embarrassment as her body writhed restlessly.

There’s a saying that even the most dignified man becomes tender before the woman he loves. Likewise, the proudest, most aloof woman reveals her gentlest side to her man, making him cherish her all the more.

Slowly, Chen Erpao’s hands, no longer content to caress over her nightgown, slipped inside the silk fabric. The warmth and smoothness of her skin was unmistakable, his hands gliding over her softness like a snake.

Wang Xuemei’s eyes grew misty, her body melting against his. Chen Erpao couldn’t help but marvel at how sensitive a girl with no sexual experience could be—far more so than a woman who’d had several boyfriends and lovers, who might barely react or else overreact.

After a while, Chen Erpao’s mouth, unsatisfied with only tasting her sweet lips, traveled down to her delicate neck, planting gentle kisses. His hands slid from her front to her back, lingering on the plump, rounded curve of her firm backside.

...

After a bout of intimacy even more passionate than the last, Chen Erpao still chose to return to his own room to sleep alone. If he’d wanted to, he could have truly become Wang Xuemei’s man that night. But he wasn’t one to rush—especially with her sleeping just across from him every night. It was better to wait for the right moment, until she was ready to give herself to him fully, body and soul. Wouldn’t that be even better?