Heading home for the holidays, my uncle's family insisted on catching a ride in my car, yet refused to split the gas money. Out of the goodness of my heart, I took them along, but my uncle said: "Talking about money hurts family feelings!" "Your car is too small, it's squishing my grandson, drive steadier!" Along the way, they ate oranges and threw the peels everywhere, and even smoked in the car. I gave a mild warning, but my aunt rolled her eyes: "Why are you so uptight at your age?" "Will smoking one cigarette choke you to death?" "You're the younger generation, serving your elders is what you should do. Don't be disrespectful." When we reached a deserted rest stop, taking advantage of them getting out to use the restroom. I didn't coddle them. I slammed on the gas and drove right off. Since you say there's no need to be polite among family, then I won't be polite either. We're two hundred miles from the nearest town, and there's no cell service here. Have a nice, long walk. 1 I parked the car at the gate of the yard, turned off the engine, and let out a long sigh of relief. The aroma of stewed meat drifted through the yard; that was my mom's signature dish. "My son is back!" Hearing the noise, my mom ran out without even taking off her apron, still holding a stalk of green onion. My dad followed behind her, holding a freshly steamed bowl of pork, his face beaming with a smile. "Dad, Mom, I'm back," I called out with a smile as I got out of the car. My dad put down the meat and circled my car twice, his eyes full of wonder: "Is this the car your boss let you drive back? It looks really grand, much better than our town mayor's Passat." "Dad, just look at it from a distance, don't touch it randomly, it's expensive." I shoved the car keys into my pocket. This wasn't an ordinary car. To reward me for my performance this year, my boss specially lent me his limited-edition Maybach to drive home and show off. It cost over a million dollars; I couldn't afford to pay for even a chipped piece of paint. "I know, I know, I'm just looking." My dad chuckled. Although he didn't know much about cars, he could sense that this car had a different aura. Our family had just sat down and prepared to eat when my mom suddenly looked toward the door: "Hey, where are your uncle and his family? Didn't they say they were taking your car and coming back together?" I picked up a piece of meat and put it in my mouth without even looking up: "Oh, they're having fun on the road. Said they wanted to take a slow walk." "A slow walk?" My dad paused. "It's freezing cold, and they aren't even home yet. What are they playing at?" I remained noncommittal and didn't reply. Playing at what? Playing wilderness survival, I guess. Who told them to throw orange peels all over my car and try to smoke inside? I was nice enough to give them a ride, and they actually treated me like a chauffeur? It was late at night, and the occasional dog bark could be heard in the village. Just as our family was getting ready for bed, the front gate was suddenly banged on thunderously. Bang bang bang! "Richard Davis! You bastard, open the door!" "Open the door! I know you're in there!" That voice—I knew immediately it was my uncle. Startled, my dad threw on a coat and hurried to open the door. As soon as the door opened, a foul stench hit us. I saw my uncle's family of five covered in slop and grass clippings. My uncle's hair was a mess, his face smeared with black soot. My aunt's down jacket was stained with unknown yellow spots. My cousin and his wife were huddled together, and their precious grandson's face was a mess of snot and tears. "Brother, what happened to you all?" my dad asked in shock. My uncle completely ignored my dad, shoved him aside, and stormed into the house angrily. I also threw on a coat and walked out, looking coldly at this family. It turned out they waited at that cell-service-dead rest stop for three hours before flagging down a large truck transporting live pigs. The driver kindly gave them a ride, but the smell was indeed overpowering. Seeing the uncleared leftovers on the table, my uncle didn't say a word, rushed up, and violently flipped the table over. Crash! Plates and bowls shattered all over the floor, greasy soup splashing everywhere. "Eat! Eat my ass!" My uncle pointed at my dad's nose and cursed, "You black-hearted bastards, actually leaving us halfway on the road, you're trying to murder us!" My aunt plopped down on the floor, slapping her thighs and wailing: "Where is the justice! A nephew trying to kill his own uncle! How did our Davis family produce such an animal!" That scream startled the neighbor's dog into barking. The pipe in my dad's hand shook, and he instinctively shrank back: "Wh-what is going on here? Leo, didn't you say they were having fun on the road?" I sneered and took a step forward: "Having fun? Uncle, eating oranges and throwing peels all over my car, wanting to smoke, and when I say one word, you talk back ten. Since you said family doesn't need to be polite, is there anything wrong with me letting you out of the car to get some fresh air?" "Is that fresh air?" My cousin charged forward, wanting to grab my collar, but was stopped by my glare. "That was the middle of nowhere! It was freezing! If we hadn't run into that pig truck, our whole family would have frozen to death there!" "Exactly!" That five-year-old brat suddenly rushed over, spat a thick wad of phlegm on my dad's winter pants, and cursed: "Old geezer! Bad guy!" My dad froze, looking down at the phlegm, his face flushing red. My anger instantly flared up: "Control your grandson!" My uncle shielded his grandson, stiffened his neck, and roared at me: "What does a kid know? Is he wrong? You guys are just bad! Leo Davis, I'm telling you, this isn't over today! Either you pay us five thousand dollars for emotional distress and medical bills, or you won't have a peaceful New Year!" Five thousand? Hearing this number, I couldn't hold back, a cold smile curling at the corner of my mouth. Hitching a free ride and extorting five thousand dollars—what a shrewd piece of business. 2 Early the next morning, before the sky was even fully light, my aunt started her grand performance at the yard gate. She brought a small stool, sat at the main gate, crying and complaining: "Folks, come and judge! A nephew leaving his own uncle's family in the snow to die! He wants to wipe out our family line!" This is the bad thing about the countryside; a tiny incident can spread for ten miles. In no time, a crowd of villagers gathered at my door to watch the drama. Everyone was pointing fingers at me. "This Leo Davis looks polite and educated, how could he be so ruthless?" "I heard he made money in the big city and now looks down on his poor relatives." "All that education went to the dogs, doesn't even respect his elders." Seeing the crowd grow, my uncle became even more energized. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing a few red, swollen chilblains on the back of his hand, crying bitterly: "Look, everyone! This is the proof! Last night we walked two miles in the snow before we could climb onto a truck. We almost didn't live to see today's sun!" My parents stood in the yard, so ashamed they couldn't lift their heads. My dad wanted to explain, but being clumsy with words and unable to get a word in, he stamped his feet in anxiety. At this moment, the crowd parted, and an old man leaning on a cane walked in. It was Great-uncle, the most senior elder in the village. "What's all this noise! It's the New Year, have you no shame!" Great-uncle struck the ground heavily with his cane. As soon as my aunt saw Great-uncle, she immediately lunged over and hugged his leg: "Great-uncle, you have to stand up for us! This little animal Leo Davis tried to kill our whole family!" Great-uncle frowned and looked at me: "Leo, you left them halfway on the road?" I stepped forward, neither humble nor arrogant, took out my phone, pulled up a photo, and handed it to Great-uncle to see. "Great-uncle, look at this first. This is the inside of the car after they got out." In the photo, the expensive leather seats were covered in orange peels, sunflower seed shells, and even a few black burn marks from cigarette butts. "This car isn't mine; my boss lent it to me to drive back. They threw trash everywhere in the car and insisted on smoking. When I said a word of warning, my aunt called me uptight and said as the younger generation, I should serve them. Tell me, who could stand that?" I explained. The surrounding villagers leaned in to take a look, and the murmurs died down a bit. "Oh my, that is really out of line, ruining a good car." "Yeah, you can't wreck someone else's car like that." Great-uncle glanced at the photo and waved his hand: "What's the big deal? So it got a little dirty? That's your uncle! You're family! Just wash it, isn't that enough? How could you leave your elders halfway on the road over such a trivial matter? That's unfilial!" I was stunned. Hearing someone backing her up, my aunt immediately jumped up from the ground, pointed at my nose, and cursed: "Did you hear that? Great-uncle said it! You are the younger generation, you should just take it! A car is a dead object, people are alive! You almost killed us over a broken car, do you have a conscience?" "Richard Davis!" Great-uncle turned to look at my dad, "Is this the good son you raised? Make him kneel down and apologize to his elders right now!" Kneel down? Hearing this, my dad's knees went weak, and he was about to kneel. All his life, he feared nothing more than being told he failed to teach his son properly, and feared offending the clan elders even more. "Dad!" I was quick, grabbing my dad's arm and pulling him back up forcefully. "We did nothing wrong, don't kneel!" My dad trembling took out a bankbook from his chest pocket, his voice shaking: "Brother, Great-uncle, don't be angry. Leo is ignorant, I'll pay, I'll pay... There's three thousand dollars in here, my pension money, take it first..." Looking at my dad's stooped back, I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my flesh. He had been submissive his whole life. For the sake of my reputation, he was willing to empty his life savings. My uncle's eyes lit up, and he reached out to snatch the bankbook. Slap! I slapped my uncle's hand away and smoothly shoved the bankbook back into my dad's pocket. "Not a single cent!" I looked coldly at my uncle. "Forget three thousand, you won't even get three cents!" My uncle froze for a moment, then flew into a rage out of humiliation. He looked around, saw a shovel leaning against the wall, grabbed it, and swung it at me: "You're rebelling! If you don't pay up today, I'll beat you to death, you unfilial son!" The surrounding villagers gasped in shock and backed away. My parents turned pale with fear. My mom even screamed and rushed over, trying to block me. 3 I pulled my mom behind me, grabbed a clothesline pole from nearby, and pointed it at my uncle: "Try touching me? This is a society ruled by law. One swing of that shovel, and you're looking at least three years in prison!" My gaze was too cold, and my uncle was intimidated, his hand holding the shovel freezing in mid-air. He was a bully who only acted tough at home. If he really had to hit someone, he'd have to weigh the consequences. Seeing the hard way wouldn't work, my aunt rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk. "Fine! Not paying money is fine too!" My aunt smiled sinisterly. "Since you said your boss lent you this car, it must be worth something. Leave the car for us to drive for a year, and we'll consider this matter settled!" So this was their goal all along. From the moment they hitched a ride, they had their eyes on this car. I laughed out of sheer anger: "You want to drive this car? I'm afraid you can't afford to." The insurance and maintenance for this car alone cost tens of thousands a year, and even a minor scratch was astronomically expensive. My uncle scoffed disdainfully: "Stop trying to scare us! It's just a broken Volkswagen! You think just because it has letters on it, it's something special? Only a poor loser like you would treat it like a treasure! My son has driven a BMW!" A broken Volkswagen? I almost couldn't resist telling him that this logo was called Maybach, and those two overlapping Ms stood for "Maybach Manufaktur." But these legal ignoramuses clearly only recognized the VW logo and thought this was just another type of Volkswagen. While we were in this standoff, that bratty kid, taking advantage of the adults' distraction, picked up a sharp stone and forcefully scratched the back door of the car. Screech— The piercing sound made my heart lurch. I turned my head and saw several winding, deep white scratches on the glossy black paint. "Stop it!" I roared, rushing over and shoving the brat away. Looking at those deep scratches, the blood rushed to my head. This was the boss's favorite car, with original factory paint. It's ruined now. The brat fell on his butt from my shove and burst out crying with a wah. My aunt lunged over, hugging her grandson tightly: "What are you doing! How dare you hit a child? He just drew a couple of lines! It won't break the car! I think you just care too much about that broken car!" "Drew a couple of lines?" I took a deep breath, unclenched my fists. "Do you know how much it costs to touch up these scratches?" "How much? Twenty bucks max!" My aunt rolled her eyes disdainfully. "That's the price at those roadside repair shops!" Great-uncle also spoke up at this moment, clearly impatient: "Enough! Stop arguing endlessly over a broken car. Richard, since you don't want to pay, give them the car keys and let them drive it for a couple of days to cool off. We are family, don't make things so ugly." This biased mediation was unmatched. My dad looked at me hesitantly, clearly wavering. In his eyes, no matter how expensive a car was, it was just a material possession. As long as it brought peace, it was fine. Seeing this, my uncle put down the shovel and triumphantly stretched out his hand: "Give me the keys! Don't force me to pat you down for them!" Looking at their ugly faces, I suddenly didn't want to argue anymore. There are some people in this world you just can't reason with. Only by making them hurt, really hurt, will they learn what rules are. I patted the car keys in my pocket, then looked at the battered Maybach. "Want the keys?" I took out the keys and dangled them in my hand. "Sure, as long as you dare to take them." My uncle snatched the keys away, "What's not to dare? I think you just need to be taught a lesson!" He tossed the keys to my cousin: "Son, go test drive the car! It's just the right time to take it out and show off for the New Year!" My cousin excitedly took the keys and got into the car. I didn't stop him; I just silently retreated back into the yard. My dad panicked: "Leo, how could you really give it to them? What if the boss blames us..." I held my dad's trembling shoulders and said in a low voice: "Dad, don't worry. They won't be able to drive this car away." Sure enough, my cousin messed around in the car for a long time, but the engine didn't respond at all. This Maybach was equipped with a remote control system. I had just blindly pressed the app on my phone in my pocket, cutting off the starter power and activating the all-around Sentry Mode. "What's going on? Is it broken?" My cousin popped his head out to complain. My uncle angrily kicked the tire: "This kid definitely did something! Leo Davis, get out here!" I closed the car door my cousin hadn't had time to get out of, saying coldly: "I told you, you can't afford to drive this car." That night, my uncle's family left cursing, their eyes harboring a chilling glint before they departed. Late at night, I tossed and turned in bed. A rustling sound came from outside the window, like someone had climbed into the yard. I opened the security camera on my phone. On the screen, a few dark figures were sneaking around the Maybach. It was my uncle's family. They were holding something in their hands, pouring it onto the car. I didn't go out to stop them. Because I knew this would be the key evidence to put them away. 4 Early the next morning, I was woken up by my mom's crying. I rushed out of my room into the yard, and the sight before me made me gasp. That originally majestic and imposing Maybach was now plastered with yellowish-brown mud. All four tires were completely flat, punctured like a honeycomb with an awl. The car body was splashed with feces and dirty water, emitting a nauseating stench. Red paint was splashed on the hood, writing the three large words: "Unfilial Son." My mom sat on the ground, trembling as she cried: "What a sin! What kind of sin is this!" My dad's face turned green with anger. Grabbing a shovel, he was about to charge out: "I'm going to fight them! This is going too far!" I grabbed my dad: "Dad! Don't be impulsive! This is a good thing!" "A good thing?" My dad looked at me in disbelief. "The car is ruined like this and it's a good thing?" I calmly pulled him back: "Dad, if this car was fine, they'd at most have a moral issue. But now that this car is ruined, it's a legal issue." At that moment, the yard gate was pushed open. My uncle's family swaggered in, wearing the smiles of victors. "Oh, up pretty early." My uncle, hands behind his back, circled the car. "How is it? This is the lesson for your ignorance!" My cousin sarcastically added from the side: "Some people just need to be educated. Feeling comfortable now?" My aunt, cracking sunflower seeds, was full of disdain: "It's just a broken Volkswagen. So what if we splashed some shit on it? Just wash it, right? So uptight." Looking at their faces, I was surprisingly calm. I took out my phone and dialed 911 right in front of them. "Hello, I want to report a crime. Someone maliciously destroyed another person's property, and the amount involved is huge." Hearing me call the police, my uncle's family not only didn't panic, but laughed even louder. "Call the police? Go ahead! Let's see if the police care about our family matters!" My uncle laughed arrogantly. Twenty minutes later, a police car parked at the door. Two officers stepped out. Seeing the tragic state of the yard, the officers also frowned: "Who did this?" "Officers! I did it!" My aunt actually stepped forward proactively, even lying directly on the ground to throw a tantrum. "But this isn't my fault! It's my nephew being unfilial, leaving us halfway on the road. I was just too angry and splashed some dirty water! This is our Davis family's internal matter, you police have no right to interfere!" The officers had clearly seen many of these types of disputes and rubbed their temples: "Even though you're relatives, you can't do this. This car looks pretty new; washing it will cost quite a bit, right?" Hearing this, my aunt immediately climbed up from the ground: "Wash what? It's just a broken car! Twenty bucks max! I'll just pay him twenty bucks, right?" The officer looked at me: "Young man, since you're family, do you think we can mediate this? Have them pay some cleaning fees and the cost to patch the tires, and let's consider it settled. After all, it's the New Year, going to jail doesn't sound good." Hearing this, my uncle became even more full of himself. He felt he had won. The law couldn't touch him, and the police were on his side. "Did you hear that? The officers said it's a family matter!" My uncle pointed at my nose, spit flying. "Leo Davis, what else you got? Hurry up and kneel down to admit your mistake, or I'll smash this car today!" I looked at the officer and said calmly: "Officer, I do not accept mediation." "Hey! You don't know what's good for you, do you?" My uncle was completely enraged. To establish dominance in front of the police, and to completely suppress me, he suddenly rushed to the corner and grabbed the shovel from yesterday. "I'll show you not accepting! I'll show you calling the police!" My uncle raised the shovel and smashed it hard against the Maybach's front windshield. Crash! A loud noise. The glass shattered, spiderweb cracks instantly covering the entire window. This loud crash stunned everyone. The officers' expressions changed. And I smiled. My uncle stepped on the filth-covered hood, pointing the shovel at my nose: "You refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit! Today I'm going to smash this broken car, let's see what you can do to me! I am the law!" Under his feet, the Maybach logo covered in red paint faintly glinted with a cold light in the sun. Crack. That was the sound of glass shattering. 5 Crash! Crash! The sound of the shovel smashing against the glass grew louder with each strike. My uncle gritted his teeth, the veins on his forehead bulging, every swing producing a muffled thud. The front windshield was completely shattered. He started smashing the hood and even tried to pry open the sunroof. The two officers finally reacted and rushed forward to seize the shovel. "What are you doing! Daring to commit a violent act right in front of the police!" the older officer shouted sternly. Deprived of his shovel, my uncle wasn't panicked. Instead, he jumped off the car, lit a cigarette, and looked nonchalant: "What violent act? This is my family's business! It's my nephew's car. What can happen even if I smash it? I'll just pay for it!" My aunt chimed in from the side: "Exactly! How much can a broken Volkswagen be worth? Is two hundred enough? If not, I'll add fifty!" In their eyes, this car was worth a few thousand dollars at most. If it's smashed, it's smashed. We're family anyway. I have money, and they, having nothing to lose, aren't afraid of those who do. Looking at the devastated Maybach, I knew in my heart that every swing of that shovel was worth at least the price of a house. The officers looked at the chaotic scene and felt somewhat helpless. They took out their body cameras, snapped a few photos, and then asked me to sign. "Young man, this is, after all, a family dispute. Since property was damaged, compensation must be paid. You guys negotiate the compensation amount first. If you can't reach an agreement, we'll handle it as a public order case." Hearing this, my uncle became even more arrogant, blowing a smoke ring in my face: "Hear that? Compensation! Two hundred bucks, take it to fix the car. Consider the rest your emotional distress fee from me!" He pulled a wad of crumpled bills from his pocket and threw it on the ground without even counting. Those few red bills fluttered down into the muddy water, as if mocking my incompetence. I didn't pick up the money, nor did I argue back. I simply accepted the police report form handed to me and signed my name. At that moment, my silence, in their eyes, became a sign of surrender. "Alright, we're tired." My uncle stretched and swaggered toward our main room. "After tossing and turning all night, I'm starving. Richard, hurry up and tell your wife to cook! I want braised pork!" This family had actually taken themselves to be the masters here. My dad trembled with anger, wanting to rush forward and fight, but I held him back firmly. "Dad, Mom, let's go." "Go? Where to?" My dad was stunned. "To the city, stay in a hotel." I said softly. "It's dirty here; we can't stay." Although my parents didn't understand, seeing my grave expression, they could only nod. We packed a few clothes. As I drove our small cargo van away with my parents, I could still hear the triumphant laughter of my uncle's family behind us. "Good thing he ran fast! Otherwise, I would have made him kneel and kowtow today!" Arriving at the hotel in the city, after settling my parents in, I finally took out my phone and dialed a number. "Boss, it's me, Leo." The boss's hearty voice came from the other end: "What's up, Leo? Is the car driving smoothly? Your family must be thrilled, right?" I took a deep breath, trying to make my voice sound calm: "Boss, something... happened to the car." I recounted the incident exactly as it happened, without adding any embellishments, just stating the facts. There was silence on the other end for a full minute. "Are you saying," the boss's voice was as cold as ice, "someone threw garbage into my car, splashed feces on it, and smashed the windshield with a shovel?" "Yes. And..." I glanced at the surveillance video I had just received on my phone, "they pried off the hood ornament too." In the video, my aunt was using a screwdriver, struggling to pry off the double-M logo, muttering: "This lump of iron looks pretty shiny, might fetch a dollar or two." "Good. Very good." The boss laughed out of sheer anger. "I specially ordered this limited-edition car from Germany; there are hardly any like it in the whole country. Leo, don't worry about this anymore. Just protect yourself and your family. Leave the rest to me." Less than two hours after hanging up, a commercial van parked downstairs at the hotel. Five people in suits stepped out of the vehicle. Leading them was the Chief Legal Counsel of our company, Lawyer Lee. Behind him were two assistants, and two people I didn't recognize. Based on their attire, they should be damage assessment experts for luxury cars. "Manager Davis, the boss sent us to handle this." Lawyer Lee pushed up his glasses, a cold glint flashing behind the lenses. "The boss said, no matter the cost, we must make the other party... sit in jail until the bottom falls out."
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "394564", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel