Son-in-Law Conquers All

Chapter 004

"You all hold the fort down here, I'm coming right now." Joan Foster barked into her phone before violently stabbing the 'end call' button. Her face, previously flushed with the embarrassment of the domestic dispute, was now drained of color, replaced by a mask of sheer panic.

She turned on her heel, her eyes locking onto Frank Yates with the familiar, contemptuous glare she had practiced for years. The brief moment of shock at his newfound voice and physical strength evaporated instantly in the face of a financial crisis. To her, he was still just a tool to be used.

"Frank Yates!" she commanded, her voice shrill. "Get the car. Bring it to the front. Now! Drive us to Cloud Cosmetics immediately!"

Starr Hall, who was still dusting off his expensive suit after being tossed onto the carpet like a sack of potatoes, saw an opportunity to regain his footing. He pushed himself up, masking the humiliation in his eyes with a veneer of concern. He shot a look of pure venom at Frank’s back before turning his charm onto Joan.

"Auntie, what happened?" Starr asked, stepping close to support her arm. "Is Cloud Lee okay? Is it serious?"

"I don't know the details," Joan snapped, her hands trembling as she shoved her phone into her purse. "Something terrible has happened at the company. A customer incident." She noticed Frank hadn't teleported to the car yet and screamed, "Are you deaf as well as mute? Move! Go!"

Frank Yates didn't say a word. He didn't need to. The calmness in his eyes was more unsettling than any retort. He simply turned and walked out of the villa, his stride purposeful and fluid. He was no longer the servant scurrying to obey; he was a predator biding his time.

As Frank pulled the Mercedes around to the front, the trio emerged from the house. The night air was cool, but the atmosphere inside the vehicle was suffocating.

"Auntie, please try to calm down," Starr said soothingly from the back seat, leaning forward to bridge the gap between them. "Don't worry too much. You know I have extensive connections in Capital City. I know the Deputy Mayor, I know the Chief of Police... whoever is causing trouble at Cloud Cosmetics, I will make sure they regret it. I'll teach them how to be a decent human being."

Joan let out a breath she had been holding. "Oh, Starr, thank goodness you're here. You're right. With you around, surely nobody would dare bully us women."

The car sliced through the night traffic. Frank Yates drove with a surgical precision he had never displayed before. His senses were heightened; he could feel the grip of the tires on the asphalt, hear the anxious heartbeats of the passengers, and sense the Qi flowing through the city streets.

Cloud Cosmetics was the flagship store of the Lee family's business empire. It was located in the prestigious Golden Grid Shopping Plaza, a hub of luxury and consumerism in the heart of the city's commercial district. It was a place where marble floors shined under crystal chandeliers and the air always smelled of expensive perfume and money.

Thirty minutes later, the Mercedes pulled up to the curb.

The scene that greeted them was chaotic. A crowd had gathered outside the glass storefront of Cloud Cosmetics, their faces pressed against the windows like vultures circling a carcass. The usual hush of the high-end plaza was broken by the sharp, hysterical shrieks of a woman.

Frank parked the car, and before the engine had even stopped, Joan threw her door open. The four of them pushed through the onlookers, entering the store.

The interior, usually a sanctuary of beauty and grace, felt like a war zone. Products were knocked over on a display table, and the staff stood huddled in corners, terrified.

In the center of the room, a woman who looked to be in her forties was screaming at the top of her lungs. She was dressed in loose-fitting, expensive leisurewear, but it was her face that drew the eye. It was a ruin. Her skin, which might have once been fair, was now covered in angry, red pustules and weeping sores. It looked like a topographic map of a volcanic eruption.

"Don't give me your excuses!" the woman shrieked, her voice cracking with rage. She pointed a trembling finger at the young woman standing opposite her. "Look at my face! Just look at it! I used your products, and this is what happened! You unscrupulous profiteers! You heartless scammers! How dare you sell such toxic garbage!"

Standing in the line of fire was Cloud Lee. Dressed in a pristine white business suit that accentuated her slender figure, she looked like a lily caught in a hurricane. Her face was pale, her composure hanging by a thread.

"Ma'am, please," Cloud Lee pleaded, her voice trembling slightly but trying to remain professional. "The hydrating cream you used is a premium import. We have sold thousands of units without a single complaint. It has passed every safety standard. We can take it to the authority in Capital City for testing right now..."

"Testing? Bullshit!" The woman spat on the polished floor. "The facts are right here on my face! I don't care about your tests! If you don't fix my face right now, I will bankrupt this company! I will make sure you rot in prison until you die!"

"Ma'am, perhaps we should go to the hospital first," Cloud Lee suggested, trying to be reasonable. "Let's get a doctor to look at it."

She felt helpless. The woman was holding a jar of their product, and judging by the quality of her clothes and the sheer arrogance of her demeanor, this wasn't a pauper trying to run a scam. This was a wealthy, angry customer, which was infinitely worse.

At that moment, Joan, Starr, Snow, and Frank burst through the defensive line of the crowd.

"Mom?" Cloud Lee looked up, surprise flickering in her eyes. "Why are you here?"

"Something this big happens and you expect me to stay home?" Joan rushed over, her eyes immediately drawn to the customer's horrific skin condition. Her heart sank. This wasn't just a rash; this was a disaster. "What on earth is going on?"

Cloud Lee quickly whispered the summary. The woman had purchased a jar of high-end imported hydrating cream yesterday. She applied it this morning, and within hours, her face had erupted into this dermatological nightmare. It was the company's best-selling item, a product that had never caused issues before.

Joan took a deep breath, putting on her best business smile, though it looked strained. She stepped forward. "Ma'am, please, let's lower our voices. Anger won't solve anything. Since the incident has occurred, the most important thing is to find a solution, don't you agree?"

The woman laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "A solution? Fine. Here is my solution. Since your daughter's poison ruined my face, I'm going to ruin hers. I'll scratch her face until it looks like mine, and then you will pay me five million dollars in compensation. Do that, and I won't pursue this further."

"Five... five million dollars?" Joan gasped, clutching her chest. "That is extortion! You're opening your mouth like a lion!"

This was Starr Hall's moment. He stepped forward, adjusting his tie, exuding the confidence of a man who believed money and status could fix anything.

"Ma'am," Starr said, his voice smooth and condescending. "Let's be reasonable. We are civilized people. This product was sold to hundreds of others who had no reaction. Only you had this problem. Logically, this suggests the issue lies with your skin, not the product."

The woman’s eyes narrowed into slits. She turned her fury onto this new target. "You little brat. Are you saying I did this to myself? Are you saying I'm trying to scam you?"

Starr took an instinctive step back, his smile faltering. "No, no, I'm not saying that. Look, I have connections. I know the Director of the Capital Glamour Aesthetic Clinic. It's the best plastic surgery hospital in the city. Come with me, I'll arrange a VIP consultation. I guarantee they can restore your face to its original state."

The silence that followed was heavy.

"You want me... to get plastic surgery?" the woman whispered, her voice trembling with a new level of fury. "You think I need to fix my face?"

Suddenly, she wound up and hurled the glass jar of hydrating cream at Starr's head.

"Get out!"

The jar struck Starr on the shoulder with a heavy thud before shattering on the floor.

"Hey!" Starr yelped, rubbing his shoulder. His ego was bruised more than his arm. "Are you crazy? You can't just assault people! If you keep acting like a barbarian, I'll call the police and have you arrested!"

"Hahaha! The police? Arrest me?" The woman threw her head back and laughed maniacally. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Starr glared at her. "Who are you?"

The woman stopped laughing. Her expression turned ice cold. "The richest man in *** (Capital City) is my brother."

The air was sucked out of the room.

Starr’s jaw dropped. Joan Foster felt her knees go weak. Cloud Lee went rigid.

The richest man in the city. A titan of industry. A man who could crush the Lee family with a phone call. If this woman was truly his sister, the Cloud Cosmetics brand was dead. They were all dead.

"Ma'am... please... calm down," Joan stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "If... if I can make the acne on your face disappear right now... would you be willing to let this matter go?"

The voice did not come from Joan. Nor did it come from Starr.

It came from behind the group. A deep, calm, resonant baritone.

Everyone turned around. The crowd, the employees, the family. They all looked for the source of such an audacious claim.

Cloud Lee followed their gaze and froze.

Standing there, hands in his pockets, looking utterly relaxed amidst the chaos, was Frank Yates.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. It wasn't just that he had stepped forward. It was that he had spoken. For four years, she had only heard him make guttural noises. Now, he was speaking clear, fluent sentences.

She opened her mouth to ask him how, but Joan beat her to it.

"Frank Yates!" Joan hissed, her face contorting with rage. "Shut your mouth! This is not the place for you! Get back in the corner!"

She couldn't believe it. This useless son-in-law was going to make things worse. He was going to offend the richest woman in the city.

"Frank," Starr Hall chimed in, eager to deflect attention from his own failure. He sneered, "I didn't know you were a dermatologist. Please, enlighten us. Where did a jobless, soft-rice-eating mute learn to cure severe allergic reactions? Did you learn it from mopping floors?"

"Starr!" Joan warned, though her tone was mild. She didn't want him antagonizing the "dog" too much in public, but she agreed with the sentiment.

"Frank, get lost," Snow Lee waved her hand dismissively, looking at him like he was a stain on the carpet. "Go wait in the car. Let the adults handle this. Don't add to the mess."

Frank Yates ignored them all. To him, their voices were just wind passing through dry grass. He walked past Starr, past Joan, past his stunned wife, and stood directly in front of the angry woman.

He looked into her eyes. His gaze was intense, analyzing her not just physically, but energetically. His new TCM knowledge was flooding his mind, dissecting the problem. He saw the inflammation not as a disease, but as a blockage of Qi in the ST4 and GB20 points, exacerbated by a toxin reacting with her liver heat.

"The condition on your face," Frank said, his voice steady and radiating a strange, compelling confidence. "I really have a way to fix it. Trust me."

The woman paused. She looked at this young man. He was dressed simply, but his eyes... they were clear. They were honest. They didn't hold the fear that the others showed, nor the arrogance that the man in the suit displayed.

For a second, her heart wavered. After all, the money didn't matter to her. Her face was her life. If he could fix it...

Cloud Lee snapped out of her trance. She rushed forward and grabbed Frank’s arm, pulling him back.

"Frank Yates, stop it," she whispered harshly, her tone commanding. "Don't cause trouble. I will handle my own business. You don't know what you're doing."

She wasn't grateful. She was terrified. She knew exactly what Frank was—a man with no education, no skills, and no background. If he touched this woman and made it worse, the Lee family would be buried.

The drama in the lobby had reached a fever pitch, and the crowd of onlookers outside was buzzing with gossip.

"Who is that guy? He's pretty bold."

"Didn't you hear? That's the famous live-in son-in-law of the Lee family. The soft-rice king!"

"Oh, the mute? Wait, he's talking?"

"Yeah, he said he could cure her face. Is he for real? Or is he a conman?"

"He's a joke. If he had medical skills, would he be washing dishes for his mother-in-law? He's just trying to act like a hero to save face. It's pathetic."

"Exactly. A Matrilocal Marriage husband trying to play doctor. This is going to be a disaster."

The whispers grew louder, filtering into the store. The angry woman heard them. The doubt returned, fueling her anger. She felt like she was being mocked.

"I don't care about your family drama!" she screamed, her patience evaporating. She pointed a manicured nail directly at Cloud Lee's nose.

"You have two choices right now! Choice one: Make my face perfect again, instantly! Choice two: Pay me five million dollars for mental distress, and then let me ruin this woman's face!"

Her voice echoed off the glass walls. "Otherwise, I promise you, by tomorrow morning, Cloud Cosmetics will be bankrupt, and you will be rotting in a prison cell!"

The threat hung in the air like a guillotine blade.

Joan was shaking. Cloud Lee bit her lip until it bled. Starr Hall looked away, powerless.

Frank Yates gently removed his wife's hand from his arm. He stepped forward again, creating a barrier between the hysterical woman and Cloud Lee.

"I choose the first option," Frank said calmly. "I will treat you now."

Word Count Check:

Current section expanded word count: approx. 1,850 words.

Previous cumulative context: High.

Total draft length for this output needs to be 1700-2500 words.

Self-Correction during drafting: The text feels a bit short of the 2000-word target if I stop exactly here. I need to expand the internal monologue of Frank Yates regarding the diagnosis and perhaps add a bit more texture to the crowd's reaction and the atmosphere of the Golden Grid Shopping Plaza.

Expansion:

Frank looked at the woman's face again. To the n***d eye, it was a mess of pustules. But to his "Spirit Eye"—a rudimentary function of the Nine Cycles Star Technique—he saw the underlying energy. The "hydrating cream" contained a trace element that wasn't toxic to 99% of people, but this woman had a specific "Yang Fire" constitution. The cream had acted like gasoline on a smoldering coal.

He didn't need medicine. He didn't need surgery. He needed to vent the heat. He needed Acupuncture. But he didn't have Silver Needles.

He glanced around the shop. His eyes landed on a decorative display of antique hairpins and sewing kits used as props for a "vintage" cosmetic line. There were needles there.

"You?" The woman sneered at Frank, though her voice wavered slightly under his intense gaze. "You're the soft-rice eater everyone is talking about. You expect me to let you touch my face?"

"Your face is burning," Frank said softly. "It feels like there are ants crawling under your skin, doesn't it? The heat is rising to your GV24 point, making you dizzy. If you don't vent the heat in ten minutes, the scarring will be permanent."

The woman’s eyes widened. He was exactly right. The sensation was maddening, a mixture of itch and fire.

"How... how do you know that?"

"I am a doctor," Frank lied—or perhaps, told a new truth. "Give me five minutes. If I fail, you can take my life."

"Frank!" Cloud Lee gasped. "Are you insane?"

"Your life?" The woman laughed, a cruel, sharp sound. "Your life isn't worth five million dollars. But fine. I'm curious. If you fail, I won't just ruin her face. I'll take your hands."

The stakes were set.

The crowd outside pressed closer against the glass, their breath fogging up the windows. This was better than any drama on TV. The underdog, the despised son-in-law, betting his hands against the sister of the richest man in Capital City.

Joan Foster felt like fainting. "He's crazy," she muttered to Starr. "He's finally lost his mind. We are ruined."

Starr watched with a mixture of horror and glee. Go ahead, you fool, he thought. Destroy yourself. Make a mess. When you fail, I'll be the one to pick up the pieces for Cloud.

Frank ignored them all. He walked over to the display case and picked up a small sewing kit. He extracted a thin steel needle. It wasn't a proper Silver Needle, but with his Spirit Power, it would suffice.

He held the needle up to the light. "Sit down," he ordered the woman.

For a reason she couldn't explain, the woman obeyed. She sat on the velvet stool usually reserved for makeup trials.

Frank stepped in close. The smell of her expensive perfume mixed with the metallic scent of the infection. He raised the needle.

"Don't move."