The Mystic Lucky Baby is Five and a Half Years Old - Chapter 29

Niannian moved before anyone understood what was happening.

She leapt, light as a swallow, half a meter off the ground. Her leg swept out in a clean sideways kick. The first boy dropped instantly.

She landed without a wobble, pivoted, and bent her arm. Her elbow shot out like an iron hammer. The second boy collapsed beside the first.

Then she stepped back half a pace, her hand shifting from a fist into an open palm. Soft meeting hard. Four taels moving a thousand catties. The third boy hit the floor with a thud.

(Note: These are martial moves.)

Three moves, in one and a half seconds. Every boy who had rushed over to “help” was now sprawled across the ground, and not a single one dared get up.

Zhao Tang stared blankly, her earlier arrogance evaporating like smoke. She silently begged the heavens to hide her underground before Niannian remembered who had started all this and turned on her.

“What kind of monster was this?!”

When other kids fought, it was all flailing punches and wild kicks at best. Maybe a bite if things got desperate. But this little bumpkin from the countryside, she was using actual martial arts techniques.

If she’d added a “White Crane Spreads Its Wings” or “Black Tiger Steals the Heart,” it could have been a scene straight out of a kung fu movie.

The boys certainly thought so. They were bullies, yes, but ordinary ones. They had never encountered anything like this in their lives, and now they were petrified.

Zhao Tang trembled where she stood, but Niannian never spared her a glance. She simply held up her water cup, headed upstairs, and disappeared into her room. Only then did anyone realize she’d been holding that cup the entire time. Not a single drop had spilled.

Downstairs, the remaining kids stared at their “fallen comrades” with round, terrified eyes. The silence was so thick it felt like the air itself was holding its breath.

Truthfully, Niannian hadn’t even used much force. The boys were only a little bruised. The reason they still lay there motionless was simple: they were pretending.

Zhao Tang was frightened out of her wits and so were they. Their pain had already faded, but the memory of it was enough to keep them frozen on the ground. 

If Niannian thought they were trying to get back up to fight, she might hit them again, so they played dead.

Niannian, however, paid them no mind. She locked her door, sat at her little table, and returned to drawing her talismans with all the serenity of a monk in meditation. No one bothered her again.

But peace didn’t last long.

That evening, the Yu family villa erupted into chaos.

The very same children Niannian had flattened earlier had now returned, this time dragging their parents behind them.

Their story, naturally, had been rehearsed under Zhao Tang’s direction.

According to them, they had gone to visit Zhao Tang, seen a pretty little girl in the house, and simply wanted to make friends. They reached out to hold her hand and the girl exploded without warning, hitting them mercilessly.

They had only wanted to be friendly!

The parents were furious. Their precious, pampered children, injured for trying to make friends? The more they heard, the angrier they became. And when they learned the culprit was a “country relative” the Yu family had brought in, their expressions darkened further.

People like them liked to talk about equality in public, but deep inside, they regarded themselves as superior. And their children, hurt by some little girl from the countryside?

Unbearable. Since they couldn’t lay a hand on a child, they turned their fury on her guardians.

“She’s your relative, isn’t she? You brought her into this household, shouldn’t you be watching her? Letting her run around hitting people, what sort of upbringing is that?”

So, righteous indignation blazing, several sets of parents stormed into the Yu villa right in the middle of dinner.

Niannian was sitting at the table, contentedly gnawing on a large chicken leg. She looked up when the crowd burst in, recognized the boys she’d beaten earlier, and went right back to her drumstick.

Yu Shanhe blinked in confusion.

He understood his daughter’s temperament now. Even when the nanny nearly drove her mad, Niannian had never raised a hand. And now he was expected to believe she attacked strangers simply because they tried to talk to her?

Ridiculous.

He didn’t believe a word of it. Other parents could love their children, so could he.

Zhao Tang hadn’t expected Yu Shanhe to defend Niannian so decisively. She sat frozen in shock.

But once all the parents sat down and compared their children’s stories, things quickly fell apart. Modern kids might mature early, but they were still children. Their lies were full of inconsistencies; their acting was clumsy. 

After only a few questions, the truth slipped out, they blamed the chubby boy. Not one of them mentioned Zhao Tang. Not out of loyalty, they simply didn’t think of her.

Zhao Tang’s silver tongue had shielded her perfectly. Before sending them home, she smiled sweetly and said: “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know my sister was so violent. You just wanted to make friends and she hit you out of nowhere. I’ll talk to her, I promise! But please don’t tell your parents, otherwise my dad will scold her!”

And the boys had thought, “Oh. So we should tell our parents!”

They couldn’t win on their own, so they would let the adults punish Niannian instead. It seemed completely reasonable to them.

So here they were.

But the parents, experienced business sharks, were not so easily fooled. Once they calmed down and observed their children’s reactions, the truth became obvious.

Their embarrassment was palpable.

They took their kids home quickly, some for a stern scolding, some for a “bamboo-shoot stir-fry,” others perhaps for a whip dipped in chili water.

(Note: Bamboo-shoot stir-fry refers to parents spanking a child (puns with “打得干瘦” / “whip them till they’re like dried bamboo shoots.” While dipped in chili water just means that it’ll be a painful punishment often involved with a belt.) 

Using their own parents as weapons, now that required a certain kind of courage.

Soon, all the families left, except one.

The chubby boy’s parents refused to go. They were fiercely protective, the unreasonable sort who believed their child could do no wrong. They didn’t care who started the fight, their son was hurt; the other girl wasn’t. 

Therefore, someone had to pay for it.

“President Yu,” Mrs. Fatty said, clutching her son dramatically, “your daughter and my son are friends. Normally I wouldn’t mind children quarreling. But look at him, look at this bump on his head! If it were your daughter who got hurt, wouldn’t your heart ache? I demand an explanation today!”

She pointed to the huge lump on her son’s forehead, eyes rolling theatrically.

And yes, among all the kids, he looked the worst. But the funniest part was, he’s the one who injured himself.