“Students who live more than three kilometers from school must be picked up by their parents. If they really can’t, have your parents sign the safety notice at home…”
At dismissal, the homeroom teacher was rambling on at the podium.
Shen Yao thought, if the police had found the missing girl on Guilin Road earlier, maybe things wouldn’t be so troublesome.
Some impatient students couldn’t wait for the teacher to finish and slipped out the back door of the school.
Shen Yao was the last to leave the classroom.
Once everyone in Shen Yao’s class had left, Cheng Cheng walked to the back of the classroom and asked him,
“Shen Yao, want to go home together?”
Her eyes wandered, not finding Qiao Yunxue’s figure.
Shen Yao made up an excuse.
“No, I still have to help organize test papers at the academic office later. You go ahead.”
Cheng Cheng gave an “Oh,” didn’t say more, waved casually, and left with her friends.
When the people on this floor had gradually left, Shen Yao slowly packed his bag.
He stuffed all the thick and heavy books he didn’t usually use into his bag, and didn’t forget to tie the discarded broom to the bag strap.
After finishing, he leisurely locked the classroom door and slung his bag over one shoulder, heading outside the school.
He left late.
Even the security guards on duty at the school gate had dispersed, and there were only a few students left.
Turning the corner, he arrived at a narrow street.
Both sides of the street were plastered with wild advertisements, mostly for “huge sums for a child,” “rich people seeking relatives,” “great masters’ fortune telling,” and so on.
In the distance, the loudspeaker of that overbearing men’s clothing store sounded like a muffled whisper through a veil, less noisy than the bustling city, with a few strands of dreamy unreality.
There was an open space at the street corner.
After 8 pm., vendors selling pirated discs would set up tents here.
Pay a deposit of 50 or 100 yuan, and you could rent a disc for anywhere from fifty cents to two yuan.
Why 8 pm.?
Maybe the city management was more lenient at that hour.
By the way, the hottest discs now were Young and Dangerous.
Shen Yao pulled his thoughts back and noticed a few more figures appeared in front and behind him.
Three ahead, three behind.
All were students with the look of street punks.
Mr. Ma, who taught politics, called them “hooligans.”
They called themselves the Order of Brotherhood.
They imitated Mountain Duck and Cheng Hao Bei, wore jeans, unbuttoned shirts, had side-swept bangs or buzz cuts, and the bold ones dyed their hair.
Five or six of them shared a pack of Six Bulls, with all kinds of strange weapons hidden in their pockets.
This was what people called “Young and Dangerous.”
“That’s him. The one who threatened us in the bathroom during the day.”
“Damn, how dare you mess with the Order of Brotherhood?”
They cursed, surrounding the lone Shen Yao aggressively.
Shen Yao pretended not to notice and kept walking relaxedly.
It was just a bluff.
He wasn’t unfamiliar with fighting—in fact, he was the type who was good at it.
He knew his peers all too well.
Sixteen- or seventeen-year-old boys were hot-blooded and quick to draw knives in a rage.
The best way to deal with them was to avoid provoking them and then look for a chance to strike back.
The “Young and Dangerous” fought on instinct.
Their finger joints were weak points—if their fingers were twisted back, they’d lose combat ability.
Then came grappling techniques; with their physical strength, they couldn’t break free from any hold.
Of course, you also had to avoid being surrounded by six people.
He wasn’t Superman, wearing underwear outside his pants.
Incidentally, Shen Yao’s favorite rental discs were Superman and Superman Returns.
“Hey!”
The three punks coming head-on shouted at Shen Yao.
Shen Yao looked blank.
“You’re looking for me?”
The next second, his right arm tensed, and the bookbag stuffed with heavy books swung mercilessly at the punk on his right.
With Shen Yao’s arm strength and the bag’s weight, it slammed into the opponent’s face, knocking him to the ground on the spot.
At the same time, Shen Yao pulled out the broomstick, turning it into a whip, and struck the forehead of the middle punk.
Shen Yao’s strength was far above his peers.
With one blow, the hollow wooden stick snapped in half, and the punk’s eyes rolled back as he stood frozen, clearly stunned.
“Shit!”
It was only then that the punk on the left reacted, reaching for the pocket of his jeans to pull out a knife.
Their knives were usually “Swiss Army Knives” bought from street stalls, with only a short usable blade, rusted beyond recognition.
His aunt once told him,
“If you get bullied at school, don’t come home crying and tattling. Sometimes you have to rely on yourself. You’re bigger than them, so there’s no reason to be afraid. Just swing your fist. Of course, if they have weapons, you’d better turn and run. Don’t play hero.”
“Auntie, aren’t you supposed to teach me to turn the other cheek for peace?”
“Do I look like someone who’d say that?”
Shen Yao shoved the last punk away forcefully and then ran.
The three punks who had surrounded him saw him fleeing and, not bothering to help their companions, shouted together,
“Chase!”
Swish, swish, swish—
The remaining ones all drew their weapons—Swiss Army Knives, steel pipes picked up from who knows where, and even a red brick.
As he ran, Shen Yao shouted back,
“Do you have guts? Six against one? Dare to fight me one-on-one?”
Of course, he didn’t really want a duel.
But from experience, these “street punks” were easily fooled.
He looked back and counted.
Only four were chasing.
The other two had probably lost the will to fight.
“Damn! If you have guts, stop running!”
“If you don’t chase, I won’t run.”
“If you don’t run, we won’t chase!”
Trying to reason with them was pointless.
Shen Yao turned a corner and noticed a trash can just cleaned by a sanitation worker by the roadside.
He grabbed it, hid around the street corner, aimed at the leading punk, and slammed the trash can over his head.
The punk was trapped under the half-height trash can, screaming in panic.
Shen Yao seized the chance to kick him over.
All of this happened in an instant.
Finishing the counterattack, Shen Yao took off running again.
The remaining three punks looked at their fallen comrade, then at Shen Yao fleeing, their eyes turning red.
“You two chase that bastard. I’ll stay and watch over Wei-ge and Jie.”
“Damn, we can’t let him off!”
Shen Yao looked back again.
Now only two were chasing him, both panting heavily, and even his own pace slowed.
These “street” students often spent their allowance to act tough, ate only one meal a day, and were skinny as monkeys—hardly fit.
Shen Yao was different.
He ate three meals a day on time, strictly followed his carbohydrate and protein intake, and did aerobic and anaerobic exercise daily—a true “Good Kid.”
“You…damn, you finally stopped…”
The punk holding the knife was considered the biggest threat by Shen Yao.
That tetanus-prone blade was more dangerous than a regular chopper.
He picked up a stick left at a construction site by the roadside and swung it, making the punk wail and drop his weapon.
“Why do you people, who don’t even know how to fight, insist on loving it so much?”
Shen Yao asked in confusion.
After all that running, he was only slightly out of breath.
To him, this was just a daily warm-up.
The last punk looked at Shen Yao approaching and at his companion playing dead on the ground, and the pressure finally broke him.
“Don’t come any closer! You bastard! All you do is fight dirty!”
“This is guerrilla tactics.”
Shen Yao explained.
The punk suddenly opened his backpack and pulled out a big red object with both hands.
“Try messing with me again!”
Shen Yao’s pupils shrank as he slowly backed away.
“Don’t get excited, classmate.”
What the punk pulled out was a Beishan Nail Gun.
This thing had become popular in recent years.
In group incidents at train stations, people often modified this model into deadly weapons.
Shen Yao wasn’t sure if the nail gun in the punk’s hand had been modified or to what degree.
To be safe, he kept backing up, staying at a safe distance.
“That’s not your nail gun, is it? Are you really going to use it?”
Shen Yao said as he retreated.
Sweat beaded on the punk’s forehead.
The nail gun wasn’t his—it was his father’s work tool.
He’d heard from the Order of Brotherhood that after modification, a nail gun could be as powerful as a real gun.
By chance, his dad had a lightly modified one, and to show off, he’d stolen it from home.
He hadn’t planned on taking it out.
But after his buddies were beaten by Shen Yao, his blood boiled and he lost control.
He raised his voice, trying to cover his panic.
“Weren’t you so arrogant? Didn’t you threaten to snitch to Zhou during the day? Don’t you love playing hero?”
He waved the nail gun forward.
Shen Yao kept stepping back, trying to reach the intersection where there were more people.
“Calm down. It’s just a dispute between students. No need to ruin your future, right?”
The punk yelled,
“Even if I go to jail, my brothers will look after me!”
“They’re just students. Once they graduate, they’ll go their separate ways. How could they—”
Shen Yao wisely shut up.
“How about this—let’s both put down our weapons and keep this a simple fight so your parents don’t have to worry. If you really cause a criminal case, think how heartbroken they’d be.”
Shen Yao’s words seemed to get through.
The punk’s expression began to waver.
But at that moment, a shrill horn sounded to Shen Yao’s right.
He whipped his head around.
A Maybach mounted the curb like a tank, charging at the punk holding the nail gun!
The punk’s attention had been on Shen Yao.
By the time the Maybach was upon him, it was too late to dodge!
“Danger!”
“Ga la—”
A screeching brake sound echoed, like the last cry of a dying crow.
The black luxury car stopped in front of the punk.
The front bumper pressed against his waist.
The smell of gasoline, the heat from the brakes, the flickering headlights—everything made him freeze.
Just a little more and he’d have been knocked flying, turning from a vibrant student into a corpse by the roadside.
Realizing this, a wave of terror surged through him.
The nail gun fell from his hand, and he collapsed to his knees.
Pa.
The rear window of the Maybach rolled down.
A red-haired girl stuck her head out.
There was no guilt, fear, or remorse for almost taking a life on her face—only endless indifference.
“Seven hundred thousand.”
“…Wh-what…”
The punk stammered.
“To kill you here, it would only cost me seven hundred thousand.”
The words came out of the beautiful girl’s mouth, cold and emotionless, almost evil.
The punk’s mind went blank, unable to say a word.
The car door on the side opened.
Qiao Yunxue waved at Shen Yao.
“Get in.”
Shen Yao glanced one last time at the punk, who was now scared out of his wits, and finally got into the Maybach.
The old man driving backed up, restarted the engine, and left the scene before onlookers could gather.
Perhaps it wasn’t his first time following the young lady’s orders for such things.
Shen Yao sat in the car, unable to recover for a long time.
The situation had gone far beyond his imagination.
In the past, when he got into trouble with punks, he and Cheng Cheng would beat them up together, and after one fight, they usually wouldn’t dare make trouble again.
But now, after just becoming “accomplices” with Qiao Yunxue, she solved the problem with ruthlessness beyond reason.
This was completely different from his past life…
“What are you thinking about?”
Qiao Yunxue asked.
Shen Yao gripped the air weakly, realizing,
“M-my bag is still with them.”
Qiao Yunxue nodded.
“Just ask for it tomorrow. They wouldn’t dare keep it. If they give you trouble again, let me know. I can solve all your ‘problems’.”
It didn’t take a genius to know that what Qiao Yunxue called “solving” wasn’t a friendly method.
“You’re my assistant now. Before we unravel the secret of the strange phenomenon, you have to protect yourself.”
She spoke in a joking tone, but the words didn’t sound like a joke at all.
After saying that, she leaned back and closed her eyes, apparently not wanting to talk more.
Shen Yao stared at her profile, unable to look away for a long time.
Qiao Yunxue…
What kind of person are you?