APR 9

The nimble motorcycle charged toward them, and in the blink of an eye, Chen Huan lunged forward, seized the rider by the collar, and yanked him violently to the ground. The rider was dragged off his seat like a helpless chick.

The next second, the ownerless blue-and-white Kawasaki crashed to the ground, its tires spinning wildly and narrowly missing Chen Huan’s shoes, filling the air with the pungent smell of burnt rubber.

Zhong Su turned his head and saw Luo Shanyou, his head still wrapped in bandages, face bruised and swollen—jump off another motorcycle.

Luo spat on the ground, pointed a thumb at himself, and glared at them fiercely. “Remember me? Luo Shanyou of the Zero Gang! I let you off last time, but you won’t be so lucky this time.”

“What, you let us off?” Zhong Su let out a disbelieving laugh.

He glanced sideways at the menacing thugs surrounding them and remarked, “Where did you dig up these reinforcements? The matter was already settled, yet you’re back for revenge. You kids really never learn.”

Chen Huan casually wiped the dust off his chin. His eyes were dark and menacing, fixed unwaveringly on Luo Shanyou, but his tone was light. “Su Er, you’re wasting your breath talking to him. If that pig brain of his could understand human speech, he wouldn’t be rushing back for another beating.”

Luo Shanyou trembled with rage. He had already cornered these two, yet they still dared to look down on him.

“Shut up! Shut up!” he shrieked, his bruised face contorting almost beyond recognition. “Hah, you can act tough now. Trapped on this mountain, let’s see how you plan to escape. My uncle is Sun Chengzhi, branch leader of the Longhua Gang. With his backing, crushing you two is as easy as squashing bugs!”

His voice was high-pitched and frantic, nearly cracking, the youthful timbre strained with fury.

The look Luo Shanyou shot Chen Huan was filled with deep-seated hatred. It was this man, who had humiliated him in front of his underlings and women, and made his uncle call him “useless.”

“Get them!” he suddenly barked, pointing at Chen Huan as he ordered the thugs. “Capture them! Especially that one, Chen Huan, I’ll beat him half to death with my own hands!”

The thugs sprang into action, pulling iron rods from gaps in their seats with a clatter. Brandishing the weapons, they closed in on Chen Huan and Zhong Su.

Zhong Su quickly assessed the situation, his brow furrowing slightly. “All talk and bluster, but all you can do is gang up on others and ambush them. Is that the best you’ve got?”

Chen Huan, however, seemed perfectly at ease. Adopting a fighting stance, he kept his eyes locked on the approaching enemies. “Perfect timing. Consider this a post-meal workout.”

A thug in a gray tank top charged first, shouting as he swung his iron rod straight at Zhong Su’s head.

Zhong Su reacted with astonishing speed, sidestepping sharply as the rod whistled past his ear and struck empty air. In one fluid motion, he seized the attacker’s wrist and twisted it hard, a cry of pain followed as the rod clattered to the ground.

Snatching the weapon, Zhong Su delivered a heavy kick to the thug’s chest, sending him stumbling backward.

“Cough—You bastard…!” The thug coughed violently as he struggled to his feet, his rage now fully ignited.

He suddenly pulled a switchblade from his waistband, the blade snapping open with a sharp click, flashing a cold gleam in the dim light. “Don’t think I’m helpless without my stick! Let’s see if you can dodge faster than my blade strikes!”

The man charged forward, slashing wildly with the knife, aiming straight for Zhong Su’s vital spots. Zhong Su tried to retreat but was a fraction too slow, the sharp edge sliced open a gash on his left arm. Blood instantly gushed out, rapidly staining his sleeve and dripping steadily onto the ground.

“…Resorting to a knife when you can’t win a fight? You’re no different from that green-haired punk, cut from the same rotten cloth, raised with the same trashy upbringing.” Zhong Su clutched his wounded arm, cold sweat beading from the pain, yet he remained firmly on his feet.

The tank-top-clad thug spat in contempt and moved to slash Zhong Su again, sneering, “What upbringing? Whatever works to take you down is a good move!”

But the smirk on his face froze abruptly, a searing, bone-shattering pain shot through his arm, as if someone were forcibly breaking it.

What was happening?

He looked up in panic and met a pair of chillingly dark eyes.

“Having fun playing dirty? If your parents didn’t teach you manners, I’ll show you what rules mean—” Chen Huan gripped the thug’s arm while driving his knee upward into the joint. Under the dual pressure, the arm bone snapped with a sickening crack, the fractured end tearing through muscle and jutting grotesquely into the air.

“My hand—!” The thug let out a piercing scream, collapsing in agony, his arm a horrifying sight.

Chen Huan gestured to Zhong Su, “Su Er, get behind me.”

Zhong Su ripped off his T-shirt, wrapping it tightly around the bleeding wound, and quickly moved behind Chen Huan. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Thanks. I was too careless, didn’t expect him to have a knife hidden.”

Only then did Zhong Su notice that Chen Huan had already taken down the entire group that had rushed at him earlier, they lay scattered on the ground, moaning and writhing in pain.

Luo Shanyou, spitting mud from his mouth, scrambled to his feet, his face twisted with resentment. “What are you waiting for? He’s down an arm, charge! With so many of us, are we really afraid of just one guy?”

But the gruesome state of the tank-top thug had terrified those still standing. They exchanged uneasy glances, refusing to approach Chen Huan no matter how Luo Shanyou urged them.

They were vicious, but not stupid—knowing they were outmatched, they weren’t about to charge recklessly into a losing battle.

Chen Huan fixed his gaze on Luo Shanyou, his expression terrifying. “Come on. I’ll crush every one of your fingers to dust.”

Luo Shanyou shuddered, his face pale and green by turns, but his feet remained rooted to the spot. “F-Fine, you win this round. But don’t think this is over—I, Luo Shanyou, swear I’ll remember this debt. Next time, I’ll pay you back double!”

He scrambled onto his motorcycle, started the engine, and fled the mountaintop in a panic along with his thugs, nearly crashing in their haste.

Only when the taillights vanished into the night and the engine noise faded did the menacing aura around Chen Huan begin to dissipate. He turned to the person behind him and asked, “Su Er, how are you holding up?”

Zhong Su kept a stern expression, applying pressure to his wound. “I’ll manage. The cut isn’t too deep—I can treat it at home.”

“Let me see.” Chen Huan lifted the blood-soaked cloth. In the faint light, a knife wound stretched across Zhong Su’s arm, the flesh torn open and edged with dark red scabs, stark against his pale skin.

Chen Huan touched the wound, his eyes swirling with an unfathomable gleam—it was unclear whether it was concern or a desire to tear the wound deeper, letting blood soak his fingertips.

“Hiss, don’t press.” Zhong Su gasped sharply.

Chen Huan licked his canine tooth, itching to act: “Does it hurt? Want me to lick it clean for you?”

“Lick your head off.” Zhong Su was amused, swatting away Chen Huan’s wolfish paw with a laugh. “Joking at a time like this? Careful you don’t end up with blood all over your face.”

Chen Huan: “Should’ve crippled both of that guy’s hands earlier. Pity.”

His tone was light, but Zhong Su could tell he meant it.

Chen Huan started the motorcycle, had Zhong Su climb on, and sped across the slippery road past rows of streetlights, soon arriving back at their neighborhood.

The moment the rental apartment door closed, Zhong Su immediately pulled out the somewhat worn metal first-aid kit from the cabinet, placing it on the coffee table and opening it, tweezers, gauze, and everything else were inside.

Gritting his teeth, he soaked a cotton ball in anti-inflammatory powder and pressed it hard against the wound—

“Hiss, just kill me with the pain already…” Zhong Su cursed under his breath, feeling half his arm go numb from the agony, fine beads of cold sweat forming on his temples.

Zhong Su followed the steps, applying the powder thoroughly to the wound.

Meanwhile, Chen Huan pressed the call button on his brick phone and sat down opposite Zhong Su, saying, “Wen Sheng, it’s Chen Huan. Are you free now? Some trouble has come up.”

“Oh, Chen Huan.” Wen Xiong’s laughter came from the other end of the line, laced with hidden needles. “What’s so urgent that even someone as capable as you can’t handle it, needing to call me in the middle of the night?”

“I don’t like promising rewards only to take them back, it makes me look stingy.”

Chen Huan took the tweezers from Zhong Su, pressing the cotton ball firmly against the wound as he spoke calmly: “The matter’s already resolved. I’m just reporting to you, it’s about the Zero Gang.”

“Earlier, the Zero Gang’s leader brought over a dozen guys to ambush Zhong Su and me. From what he said, it seems his uncle is Sun Chengzhi from the Longhua Gang, who gave him men and weapons to come after our lives.”

The cotton was saturated with Zhong Su’s blood, a glaring crimson that seemed to echo the dangerous topic on the phone.

The laughter vanished from Wen Xiong’s voice, turning serious: “To think something like this happened. That bastard Sun Chengzhi has no sense of his place. It’s been years since we taught him a lesson, and he still dares to overstep.”

“Chen Huan, you and Zhong Su don’t need to handle this anymore. I’ll personally go talk to Sun Chengzhi. If he insists on indulging his nephew, then this won’t end simply.”

Wen Xiong paused, then suggested: “But for now, it seems you and Zhong Su have been targeted. Before we reach a resolution, you should both lay low at Seven Rocks Island—not out of fear, but to prevent his nephew from biting everywhere.”

Chen Huan didn’t respond immediately, thinking for a moment before replying: “We have no objections. We’ll follow your arrangements, Wen Sheng.”

“…”

After discussing a few more details, Wen Xiong hung up.

Zhong Su had caught fragments of Wen Xiong’s words and spoke only after Chen Huan ended the call: “Wen Sheng wants us to leave tomorrow? That soon?”

Though it was true they were being targeted, was it really serious enough to flee to another place? Zhong Su felt somewhat hesitant.

“Yeah, quite unusual.” Chen Huan chuckled dismissively. His hands kept moving as he helped Zhong Su tighten the bandage, then went to the kitchen to fetch a section of plastic wrap, wrapping it tightly around the bandaged forearm.

“Done. This way the wound won’t get wet. Su Er, go wash up first. We’ll deal with tomorrow’s matters tomorrow.”

Zhong Su agreed: “True, no point worrying about so much right now.”

He stopped dwelling on it, tossed the bloodstained t-shirt into the trash, and went back to his room to get a clean tank top.

With the tank top slung over his shoulder, Zhong Su was about to head to the bathroom when he suddenly remembered something. Pausing mid-step, he pulled a box out from under the bed.

Opening it revealed bundles of hundred-yuan bills neatly bound with rubber bands.

These were all the payments he’d received over the years working for the syndicate. After covering daily expenses, the bulk of his earnings were stored here, even Chen Huan didn’t know about this box’s existence.

Zhong Su took out two bundles of cash, but hesitated when closing the box: “Who knows when we’ll be back. Better play it safe and bring more money for security.”

He extracted additional bills and stuffed them all into his pants pocket before pushing the box back into place and entering the bathroom.

The broken water heater had ultimately never been repaired. Since Chen Huan had been particularly busy lately, Zhong Su had gone to an appliance store himself and picked out a simple instant-heating model to replace it.

He pressed the switch, and hot water came pouring down, instantly filling the bathroom with steamy mist.

Worried about tearing his freshly scabbed wound, Zhong Su washed slowly. The stifling heat, combined with the sedative effect of the medicinal powder, made his eyelids grow heavy during the final rinse. By the time he left the bathroom, he could barely keep his eyes open.

Covering a yawn, Zhong Su called out to the person in the living room: “Chen Huan, I’m going to bed first. I’ll pack tomorrow morning.”

“Mhm, go ahead.” Chen Huan was busy confirming arrangements for Qiyan Island with someone on the phone, not even looking up.

Zhong Su didn’t bother turning on the lights after entering his room, collapsing directly onto the bed and pulling the covers over himself.

The room was dim, with only scattered spots of streetlight filtering through the curtains, swaying like lingering silver fish.

Buried in his soft pillow, Zhong Su could faintly hear Chen Huan’s low, husky voice outside. The sound seemed to carry a hypnotic quality, and he soon relaxed, sinking into deep sleep.

Some time later, the door opened silently. Chen Huan entered after finishing his call and saw Zhong Su completely vulnerable.

Pale moonlight fell across his profile, his skin almost translucent. With his eyes closed in rest, he looked both docile and endearing.

Chen Huan’s fingertip lightly touched the wound, then slowly moved upward, ghosting over the lips, feeling their warm softness.

“Hah…” Zhong Su seemed to taste bitterness on his tongue, uncomfortably pursing his lips in sleep, his teeth gently catching Chen Huan’s finger.

Like a cat begging its owner for food.

“Even asleep you’re restless, so hard to manage.” Chen Huan pinched Zhong Su’s cheek, withdrew his hand, and left, closing the door behind him.