Chapter 711: Kid in Charge, Kidnapper Goes Crazy

After He Qixing received the mission, that same day he booked a ticket with Laogui and flew from Wu Zhou to Jingcheng.

The next afternoon at 2:30, the playground of Jingcheng Shiyan Xiaoxue.

The PE class had just ended.

The children scattered like baby birds leaving the nest.

Lin Fuxing and a few friends ran from the parallel bars area toward the shade, his little face flushed, fine beads of sweat on his forehead.

After just a few steps, Lin Fuxing suddenly clenched his legs, stomped his feet on the spot, and his little face scrunched up like a steamed bun.

"What's wrong, Fuxing?" a classmate asked.

"I need to pee!"

Lin Fuxing looked around; the restroom by the teaching building was over a hundred meters away, a bit far, and his urge to urinate had surged to a critical point.

As a three‑good student who observes the five virtues and four beauties, he certainly couldn't just relieve himself on the playground.

In desperation.

He saw an empty orange‑juice drink bottle on the nearby flowerbed, tossed there by some unhygienic classmate after finishing it.

Lin Fuxing's eyes lit up.

He darted over, snatched the bottle, then, like a thief, swiftly slipped behind the nearest large plane tree.

The tree's trunk was thick enough to block the view from the playground.

He faced away from the outside.

Lin Fusheng fumbled with his sports pants, pulling them down and aiming at the bottle's mouth.

"Whoosh—"

The not‑so‑clear stream splashed against the plastic bottle's inner wall, making a pleasant sound. Lin Fuxing exhaled in relief and even gave an involuntary shake.

Soon the bottle was filled more than halfway with a pale yellow liquid.

He screwed the cap on tight, lifted this "homemade drink" from behind the tree, and walked out with a relaxed expression of having solved a major life matter.

Following the principle of not littering indiscriminately.

Lin Fuxing's mind had already turned to the details of trash sorting—plastic bottles are recyclable and must go into the green bin.

Just as he was heading to the trash can, a man in a white sports outfit and a baseball cap came briskly from the side.

It was He Qixing, his heart pounding.

He had barely slept last night, his mind repeatedly rehearsing today's operation.

Laogui gave him a set of tools: a plate‑switched van parked two blocks away, stocked with toys, snacks, handkerchiefs soaked in sleeping‑drug solution, and a rope.

The plan was simple: pose as a colleague or old classmate of Lin Dongfan, lure the child with "Your dad sent me to pick you up—here's a surprise," and get him into the vehicle.

He Qixing thought the plan was full of holes—someone like Lin Dongfan would never let a stranger pick up his son after school.

But Laogui pointed a gun at his head and said, "That little brat is only eight—what does an eight‑year‑old know? Give him a toy and he'll go along!"

No choice—He Qixing had to grit his teeth and go ahead.

Posing as a parent, he had mingled into the school and been staking out the playground for over half an hour, already drenched in sweat, his lips cracked and peeling from the heat.

Just now he saw Lin Fusheng run behind the tree, hesitated a moment, and didn't follow.

Seeing the child emerge, still holding a bottle of "unfinished drink," with no teacher nearby, he immediately stepped forward.

"Fuxing."

He Qixing forced a smile, his voice hoarse from thirst.

Lin Fuxing stopped, eyeing the strange man warily: "Who are you?"

"I'm an old classmate of your dad, surname He." He Qixing crouched, trying to meet the child's eye level: "Your dad sent me to pick you up—he said he'd give you a surprise."

As he spoke, his gaze drifted involuntarily to the throbbing bottle in Lin Fusheng's hand.

Inside the clear plastic bottle, the pale yellow liquid swayed gently with the child's movements, catching an amber sheen in the sunlight.

He Qixing instinctively swallowed saliva.

His thirst grew even stronger.

Lin Fuxing followed the man's greedy, thirst‑filled gaze, glanced at his own bottle, a flicker of confusion crossing his little face—but he said nothing.

"Are you thirsty?"

He Qixing, grasping for something to say, kept his eyes on the bottle: "Uncle's a bit thirsty… could I have a sip? I'll buy you a new one later."

"Um…" Lin Fuxing instinctively hid the drink behind his back, somewhat embarrassed: "This doesn't taste good, it's…"

"No problem, Uncle isn't picky."

Before Lin Fuxing could explain further, the thirst‑tormented He Qixing snatched the bottle from his hand.

The move was quite natural.

The next second, He Qixing twisted open the cap, tipped his head back, and took a gulp without hesitation. As soon as the flavor hit his tongue, he involuntarily furrowed his brow.

He couldn't help thinking to himself:

"This flavor…"

"Why is it a bit salty and astringent? A special formula? These days fancy drinks love to throw in weird flavors."

He Qixing examined the lettering on the bottle closely—he didn't recognize a single character; it was foreign script.

He smacked his lips, tipped his head back for another small sip, carefully savoring the taste—this mouthfeel was indeed out of the ordinary.

"Tsk—"

He Qixing swirled the remaining liquid in the bottle toward the sunlight.

Like a world‑weary sophisticate.

He couldn't help exclaiming, "The rich live in a different world—too damn extravagant. Even kids' drinks are different; this texture really is damn layered."

He tilted his head back, lost in the aftertaste.

He finished the last sip.

He made sure the drink in the bottle was completely finished.

Not a single drop was wasted.

Only then did he casually toss it, throwing the bottle onto the edge of the nearby flower bed.

Throughout, Lin Fuxing stood there, mouth slightly open, eyes wide like brass bells, his whole face showing the expression of wanting to say something but forcibly holding it back, a nauseated look.

He Qixing didn't notice the child's oddness.

He wiped his mouth, felt his throat a bit more comfortable, and put a smile back on his face: "Fuxing, let's go, the car's waiting outside."

Saying that, he reached to take the child's hand.

Lin Fuxing, however, suddenly squatted: "Oh no, my shoelace came undone!" Then he began to tie his shoelace in slow motion, taking a full twenty seconds to tie one lace.

After tying one, the other shoelace "coincidentally" came undone as well.

He Qixing was so anxious he broke into a sweat.

He kept checking his watch.

Finally, after Lin Fuxing finished dawdling and stood up, He Qixing was about to reach out when Lin Fuxing suddenly pointed to the other side of the playground and exclaimed: "Uncle, quick look, there's a naked auntie over there!"

He Qixing instinctively turned his head, and the more he looked, the more bewildered he became.

Have I gone blind?

Where is the naked auntie?

Why do I only see a weathered wutong tree?

By the time He Qixing turned back, Lin Fuxing had already darted off several meters like a little rabbit, the kid shouting all the way: "Teacher Zhang! There's a lunatic at school..."

The clear, childish voice pierced the entire playground.

But under the distant steps, the PE teacher Zhang, who was flirting with a female teacher, seemed not to have heard Lin Fuxing's shout.

On the contrary, He Qixing was stunned, his face full of bewilderment.

A lunatic?

Where's a lunatic?

He Qixing widened his eyes, looked left and right, and in the next second his face turned livid as pig liver—darn it, that little rabbit brat was referring to him, Old He!

Infuriated by embarrassment, He Qixing lunged forward in a single stride, grabbed Lin Fuxing, and demanded: "Take another good look—do I look like a lunatic?"

"I didn't say you're a lunatic."

Lin Fuxing instinctively struggled twice, but couldn't break free of He Qixing's grip.

He Qixing tightly gripped Lin Fuxing's little arm, relentlessly asking: "Then who did you just say was a lunatic?"

"The naked auntie." Lin Fuxing replied earnestly.

He Qixing turned back and glanced once more into the distance.

He still saw only a weathered wutong tree, so he sternly educated Lin Fuxing: "Hasn't the teacher taught you? Kids must be honest, not spout nonsense."

"Who's spouting nonsense? It's your poor eyesight—you can't even see such a lovely auntie." Lin Fuxing pointed at the empty distance and insisted: "Open your eyes wide— isn't she not wearing clothes?"