James Brown’s gaze was full of encouragement as he said, "We’ve come all this way, how could we not go in?"
"No ’but’s. No matter what, he’s still your father." James Brown took Emma Campbell’s hand and pushed open the courtyard gate.
The Campbell Family courtyard wasn’t very large. In the middle, where vegetables and fruits should have been growing, weeds were instead running wild. The surroundings were a mess, piled with random items. There was also an unpleasant odor emanating from somewhere.
Emma’s expression grew worse. Stamping her foot, she angrily said, "The last time I came back, I cleaned up! How did it turn into this mess again?"
At this moment, James Brown wasn’t feeling any anger toward Emma, only heartache. Being burdened with a father was, for a daughter, indeed a very difficult thing.
Holding Emma’s hand, James smiled and said, "Alright, don’t be angry. Don’t forget, if it weren’t for your father, we wouldn’t have met."
Emma forced a smile. What James said made sense. If it hadn’t been for her father’s irresponsibility, she wouldn’t have gone to that small place looking for money, nor would she have met James Brown—and certainly wouldn’t have become his woman.
But her father clearly promised he wouldn’t gamble anymore, and yet he was lying to her. That made it incredibly hard for her to accept.
Under James Brown’s encouragement, Emma finally summoned the courage to push open the door. Immediately, a pungent mixture of cigarette smoke and stinky foot smell flooded the air.
Even though James smoked, this kind of smell was almost unbearable for him.
Everyone inside turned to look at James and Emma in unison. Sitting by the mahjong table, Emma’s father’s expression instantly changed, and his body trembled involuntarily.
There were six people inside—the four at the mahjong table were middle-aged men in their forties, while the other two were younger and merely watching. All of them were locals who knew Emma. Seeing her father’s sudden pale face, one of them immediately teased, "Mr. Campbell, what’s the matter? Your daughter’s back, but are you so scared you’d jump out of your skin?"
Emma’s father quickly stood up and said hurriedly, "I’m done, I’m not playing anymore!"
"What the hell, Mr. Campbell? We agreed to play sixteen rounds, and we haven’t even made it through eight yet! What’s your deal?"
"Seriously, Mr. Campbell, what kind of buzzkill are you being?"
Emma’s father’s lips were trembling as he started pushing everyone out one by one. "Out, out! Hurry up and leave! No more games!" He wasn’t afraid of his daughter; he was terrified of James Brown. This dangerous man had beaten up John Smith, that bigshot, the last time—and also roughed him up severely. He was genuinely scared of James Brown.
The men grumbled and cursed as they left, clearly unwilling but without choice.
Emma stamped her foot hard, bitterness in her voice as she said angrily, "Dad, didn’t you promise you wouldn’t play anymore?" The moment those words came out, the tears she had been holding back finally fell uncontrollably.
"I... I..." Emma’s father’s legs were growing weak. With his head down, he nervously tidied up the mahjong table, not daring to look at Emma, or at James.
James secretly sighed inwardly. He was extremely angry with Emma’s father, but he couldn’t show it in front of Emma. Smiling, he said, "Good evening, sir! I’m James Brown, Emma’s boyfriend. Apologies for coming unannounced and disrupting your game."
Emma’s father’s knees trembled at that, and he quickly replied, "I won’t play anymore! I swear, if I ever play again, I’ll... I’ll cut off my fingers!"
James didn’t believe a word of it. Someone who casually made vows like that was just spewing nonsense—those promises meant nothing. He handed the package in his hand to Emma’s father and said, "Sir, since this is my first visit, I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I bought some things. I hope they’re to your liking."
"Yes, yes, I like it a lot." Emma’s father finally dared to lift his head to look at James. Seeing that James wasn’t glaring at him or showing anger, just smiling politely, his nerves eased a little. He glanced at his daughter and a thought popped into his head.
This James Brown might be intimidating, but he seemed to treat his daughter well. No matter what, he was still Emma’s father, which meant he’d be this man’s father-in-law. What reason did he have to act submissive in front of a son-in-law? If this guy annoyed him, he could still refuse to let his daughter marry him.
Sometimes people are like that—suddenly finding their sense of dignity, whether warranted or not, which changes their attitude in an instant.
With a chuckle, Emma’s father said, "Come in, come in! Have a seat. The house is a mess—don’t mind it." Then he turned to Emma and said, "Emma, what’s with you? You found a boyfriend, but you didn’t bring him to see me earlier? How am I supposed to check if he’s good enough for you? With you being so beautiful, there are so many rich men thinking about you."