“Let go of me! Scum! Beast! You bastard born mouth-to-mouth by your mother!”

 

“Pa—”

 

“Cheap trash! XX! Hold her down!”

 

From the dark, damp alley came the faint sounds of a girl’s crying, shouting, and furious curses.

 

Something buzzed in Jin Zhao’s head; her mind swelled and grew dizzy. She was terrified that Wu Nian would be hurt, yet she was also afraid that the bottomless, filthy verbal fight between men and women would make Meng Yanxi feel disgusted and walk away coldly.

 

“Let go.”

 

Meng Yanxi stepped one foot onto his skateboard and lowered his eyes to look at the hand that was gripping the corner of his clothes with all its strength.

 

The boy’s brows and eyes were cold and sharp. Jin Zhao’s fingers shrank back slightly, more tears falling down her face, mixing with cold sweat.

 

She could understand Meng Yanxi not wanting to get involved in trouble—just like how she herself, when she heard Wu Nian and He Yu hurling bottomless insults at each other in the bar earlier, had wanted to turn around and flee. But she could not abandon Wu Nian.

 

At a loss, she hurriedly explained to him, “No, she’s not a bad girl, she—”

 

Meng Yanxi coldly brushed her hand away, the force leaving no room for refusal.

 

Jin Zhao’s heart instantly lost its footing and plunged downward—only to see the boy turn around, place his other foot on the skateboard, bend his knees slightly, and in the next second, the skateboard shot like the wind straight into the dark alley.

 

Many years later, Jin Zhao still remembered this scene.

 

The alley saw no daylight. The air was filled with a damp, rotten stench. A narrow passage, dark and gloomy with no end in sight, filthy mutual curses and the sounds of grappling between men and women coming from deep within.

 

The boy in a black T-shirt and white shoes rode his skateboard forward without hesitation. The wind billowed his loose T-shirt, and his back view was clean and sharp.

 

Like fireworks exploding the brightest star in the sky, its light falling into the alley.

 

The skateboard was moving fast. Meng Yanxi suddenly jumped off; as he landed, he stepped down on the tail of the board. Driven by inertia, the skateboard flew forward, accurately smashing into the red-haired hoodlum who was pressing the girl to the ground.

 

“Bang!”

 

“Ah—”

 

As the red-haired man clutched his head and let out a miserable scream, the sounds of grappling, shrieking, and cursing came to an abrupt halt, and Meng Yanxi instantly drew all the fire to himself.

 

Although Meng Yanxi was a boy and had a natural physical advantage compared to Jin Zhao, he was, after all, only a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old teenager. The other side had three people, and they were holding clubs.

 

When the first stick swung down at him, Meng Yanxi slightly twisted his body to dodge it. At the same time, he raised his hand to grab the opponent’s wrist and wrenched it hard.

 

“Ka-cha—”

 

“Ah—”

 

The sound of a joint dislocating rang out together with a scream. The opponent released his grip, the long stick falling to the ground, and Meng Yanxi chopped his hand down to seize it.

 

But at the same time, another person behind him had already raised a stick and swung it toward the back of his head.

 

“Watch out!”

 

Jin Zhao ran in. Seeing this from afar, her heart almost jumped out of her chest.

 

Meng Yanxi heard her voice. While catching the stick, his body reflexively bent to the side, lifting his arm to block the attack from behind.

 

But he was still a step too slow. Just as he raised his forearm, that blow came down, smashing heavily into his lower arm.

 

The boy let out a muffled grunt.

 

At the same time, the red-haired hoodlum swung his fist and punched toward him.

 

Jin Zhao hurriedly shouted, “The police have already been called—they’ll be here any minute!”

 

Hearing the word police, the redhead paused. Meng Yanxi, however, was not affected at all. He grabbed the back of the neck of the person who had struck his arm and, dragging him along, slammed him viciously into the red-haired hoodlum’s head.

 

“Bang—”

 

The two heads crashed together, and both men clutched their heads and screamed in pain.

 

One against three, Meng Yanxi initially held the upper hand. Jin Zhao had even claimed that the police had been called.

 

But unexpectedly, these people were not afraid of the police at all. The redhead’s voice was hoarse and turbid as he shouted loudly, “Fine! Then we’ll fight until the cops come—go to the station together! This XX scammed us out of our money; perfect, we’ll make her spit it out right in front of the police!”

 

Jin Zhao didn’t know what grudges they had between them. The three of them were still fighting Meng Yanxi.

 

From the way Meng Yanxi fought, he seemed to have undergone systematic training—his moves were fast, precise, and ruthless; even fighting looked clean and sharp. In contrast, the three on the other side had no method at all, their bodies heavy, swinging their clubs wildly. With a clean dodge from Meng Yanxi, one person’s stick struck his own companion’s head.

 

But when it came to experience in brawling, the other side was clearly far more seasoned. They used their numerical advantage to surround him—two of them held Meng Yanxi back while the redhead lunged from behind, trying to jump onto his back and lock his throat.

 

“Watch out!”

 

Jin Zhao had never seen a fight before. The sounds of fists and clubs landing on flesh felt as if they were striking her heart. She stared wide-eyed mechanically, her face pale, her whole body trembling.

 

Meng Yanxi rolled on the spot, dodging the chokehold. At the same time, his long leg swept out, tripping the person who was swinging a stick at him.

 

That person fell to the ground, the long stick flying out and landing at Jin Zhao’s feet.

 

Hands shaking, Jin Zhao quickly picked up the stick.

 

Taking advantage of Meng Yanxi being down, the three of them pounced on him together, trying to suppress him with their combined body weight.

 

From start to finish, Meng Yanxi consistently avoided bodily contact with them. Whether dodging or throwing punches, everything was extremely clean and decisive—one strike, one hit, no entanglement. Jin Zhao didn’t know whether that was his self-protective fighting style or simply because he disliked the smell on these people and was deliberately avoiding their proximity. At this moment, Meng Yanxi rolled on the ground again; two of them lunged and missed. The red-haired hoodlum dropped to his knees, his upper body pressing down on Meng Yanxi to pin him, both hands reaching to choke Meng Yanxi’s neck.

 

Jin Zhao rushed forward, staring at that red back of the head, and raised the long stick in her hand.

 

Meng Yanxi, lying on the ground, saw her. His eyes narrowed. He lifted his leg and drove his knee forcefully into the redhead pressing on him.

 

“Ao—”

 

The most vulnerable part of a man was struck. The red-haired man let out a miserable scream and rolled on the ground clutching himself.

 

At the same time, relying on his core strength, without using his arms for support, Meng Yanxi braced with his waist and legs and sprang straight up, swiftly snatching the stick from Jin Zhao’s hands.

 

By then, the other two had already rushed in. Meng Yanxi pulled Jin Zhao behind him with one hand, while his long leg lashed out, kicking hard into the hollow of one man’s knee. The man was kicked down with a “thump,” dropping to his knees. Meng Yanxi swung the long stick sideways and, in one smooth motion, locked it against his throat.

 

“Still want to fight?” Meng Yanxi barked coldly.

 

He applied force with the wooden stick. The face of the person whose throat he had locked instantly flushed a deep red.

 

Of the three of them, one was writhing on the ground in pain; one was kneeling, his throat locked by the stick; the last one had a huge lump on his head, blood running down his face. Facing Meng Yanxi, he was still holding a club, but fear and hesitation were already evident in his eyes.

 

The one kneeling struggled with his hands to pry at the stick, muffled pleas spilling from his throat. “N-no more, no more… we lost.”

 

Meng Yanxi was equally decisive. Hearing the other side admit defeat, he tossed the stick in his hand aside.

 

With a “pa-ta” sound, the long stick fell at the other side’s feet.

 

Seeing this, Jin Zhao’s heart leapt again, afraid they would seize the chance to pick it up and keep fighting.

 

But the slightly plump man opposite only shot Meng Yanxi a resentful look, then together with his companions helped the red-haired man up. The three of them ran off together.

 

-♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི

 

Wu Nian sat on the ground hugging her knees, her yellow-dyed hair sticking up in messy tufts. The small camisole on her body had been torn open, exposing a large area of fair skin.

 

Meng Yanxi picked up the skateboard from the ground and turned to leave.

 

Jin Zhao stepped forward, took off the shirt she had been wearing over her tank top, and draped it over Wu Nian.

 

“It’s okay now, let’s go back.” She hugged Wu Nian gently, aching for her.

 

Wu Nian didn’t make a sound; tears simply fell silently. After a few seconds, she wiped her face hard with the back of her hand.

 

“I’m fine. You go back first.” Her voice was a little hoarse, yet carried a strained calm and toughness, making her sound like a female warrior who would never surrender.

 

After something like this had just happened, how could Jin Zhao let her go back alone? She said gently, “Let’s go together. We live in the same complex anyway.”

 

“I’m not going back tonight.” Wu Nian stood up, went to pick up her bag that had fallen into the filthy water pit, and lowered her head to fish her phone out of it.

 

Jin Zhao asked, “Are you calling He Yu?”

 

Wu Nian had already dialed the number. Facing the other end of the call, she said coldly, “Come pick me up. The alley next to this one. I’m going to your place tonight.”

 

He Yu rode over on his motorcycle and arrived within ten minutes.

 

During this time, Jin Zhao kept trying to persuade Wu Nian to go home with her. In her view, He Yu and those hoodlums from earlier were essentially the same.

 

But Wu Nian remained unmoved.

 

Not far away, Meng Yanxi had his back to them. Midway, he made a phone call, speaking a few words in a low voice.

 

Wu Nian thought he was calling the police and panicked, grabbing Jin Zhao’s hand. “Quick, go tell him—don’t call the police!”

 

Jin Zhao didn’t know how to speak up. Meng Yanxi turned around, his indifferent gaze sweeping over Wu Nian’s head of yellow hair. “Relax. I never meddle in other people’s business.”

 

Jin Zhao: “……”

 

Never meddle—yet he’d just fought with such ferocity.

 

She recalled those hoodlums saying earlier that Wu Nian had scammed them out of money. From her position, she couldn’t really advise anything. Weighing her words, she said, “I—”

 

Wu Nian cut her off coldly, as if foreseeing it. “Don’t beat around the bush about lending me money. I have a boyfriend. My boyfriend can make money.”

 

Jin Zhao wanted to say, how does he make money? Buying lottery tickets?

 

In the end, she said nothing.

 

Meng Yanxi suddenly lifted his foot and walked out.

 

Jin Zhao thought he was leaving. Her gaze immediately followed him nervously, but then she saw that he had left the skateboard where it was, and she secretly let out a breath.

 

Meng Yanxi returned quickly, an extra jacket in his hand. He walked straight up to her and handed it to her.

 

A black windbreaker.

 

Jin Zhao didn’t quite grasp what he meant and lifted her face blankly.

 

Jin Zhao had given the shirt she’d been wearing on the outside to Wu Nian, leaving only a goose-yellow camisole underneath. A sports-style top, similar to a spaghetti strap, just with slightly wider straps—revealing her slender shoulders and neck, delicate collarbones, and a large expanse of skin above her chest, pale enough to dazzle the eye.

 

The boy’s gaze swept over her. “Put it on.”

 

At first, Jin Zhao didn’t realize anything. Back when she still danced, she dressed like this all the time in the studio. It wasn’t until the sudden roar of a motorcycle engine came from the mouth of the alley that she reacted.

 

At the very least, in a place like this, she absolutely couldn’t be dressed like this!

 

She looked gratefully at Meng Yanxi and quickly took the windbreaker from him.

 

As the jacket unfolded, a familiar scent of cold mountain pine and mist enveloped her.

 

Jin Zhao immediately realized—it was Meng Yanxi’s jacket.

 

His clothes brushed against her bare skin, wrapping around her body.

 

He had clearly been empty-handed, without even a bag; she’d thought he’d just gone out to buy it.

 

The fabric of the windbreaker was smooth and soft, carrying a faint autumn chill, yet the blood inside Jin Zhao’s body was burning hot.

 

It felt as though a little deer was crashing wildly about inside her.

 

-♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞♥︎ ྀི

 

He Yu had brought along a friend. In the end, He Yu rode off on his motorcycle with Wu Nian, while his friend left riding Wu Nian’s small electric scooter.

 

Before leaving, they asked Jin Zhao if she wanted a ride.

 

Jin Zhao didn’t dare look at them. Standing behind Meng Yanxi, she softly said thank you, no need.

 

At the mouth of the alley, a Rolls-Royce was parked. When Meng Yanxi emerged, the suited driver got out and opened the rear door for him, bending slightly at the waist, his manner respectful and deferential.

 

Jin Zhao recalled the phone call Meng Yanxi had made earlier—so he’d been calling the driver to come pick him up. Then this windbreaker made sense as well; it must have been taken from the car.

 

Jin Zhao pinched the jacket between her fingers, her gaze falling on his arm. His skin was fair; after taking such a solid blow, his forearm was already swollen, a mottled mass of blue and purple bruising.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jin Zhao apologized softly.

 

If his car hadn’t come to pick him up, she could’ve gone to buy medicine for him. But with his driver already here, he probably wouldn’t need the medicine she bought.

 

Meng Yanxi’s pale peach-blossom eyes shifted to look past her.

 

At the intersection ahead were a motorcycle and a small electric scooter. For some reason, He Yu and the others hadn’t left yet; they were watching from afar.

 

“I’ll go now. Thank you for tonight. The jacket…” Jin Zhao said her goodbyes.

 

“Get in the car,” Meng Yanxi cut her off.

 

The girl lifted her eyes, her milky-white complexion tinged with a blush. “N-no need to trouble you. We’re not going the same way.”

 

Meng Yanxi raised his hand and loosely drew an arm around Jin Zhao’s shoulders, leaning down to speak by her ear. “If you don’t want to be targeted by those little hoodlums, get in the car.”

 

Jin Zhao’s eyes flew wide open.

 

The Rolls-Royce Phantom slowly drove past the intersection, the Spirit of Ecstasy hood ornament reflecting an expensive gleam under the lights.

 

Through the one-way tinted glass, Jin Zhao saw He Yu and his friend standing by the roadside. A faint sense of relief rose in her chest, followed suddenly by lingering fear.

 

Maybe… she shouldn’t have come tonight at all.

 

“You’re not from the same world. There’s no need to try to save anyone,” the aloof boy sitting beside her suddenly said.

 

Jin Zhao looked at his jaw. It had been scraped during the fight; beneath the cold white skin, the bruising was a deep red, though it was much better than his arm.

 

Jin Zhao knew he was referring to Wu Nian.

 

She couldn’t help saying, “We’re not from the same world either.”

 

She and Meng Yanxi—likewise not from the same world.

 

Meng Yanxi turned his head. His pitch-black peach-blossom eyes looked at her. Two seconds later, he nodded. “You’re right.”

 

Jin Zhao: “……”

 

Meng Yanxi: “But there aren’t only two worlds in this world. You can make friends who share your ideals.”

 

Jin Zhao: “Then why did you save her? Clearly worlds apart.”

 

Yet you still went alone to save her, throwing yourself in without hesitation.

Even when her vulgar words made you frown, even when, in your eyes, she wasn’t even a good person.

 

Meng Yanxi turned his head away and didn’t make a sound.

 

Jin Zhao silently curved her lips.

 

She suddenly realized that beneath the aloof, cold exterior of the high-and-mighty boy, there was also a hot-blooded, youthful heart.

 

She was still uneasy about the blow he had taken and asked softly, “Does your injury hurt?”

 

Meng Yanxi lowered his eyes and glanced at his forearm. He didn’t say whether it hurt or not. “In the future, if you run into situations like this, don’t get involved.”

 

Jin Zhao thought he meant calling for help and explained, “Nian Nian would be bullied…”

 

“I mean, don’t use force.” Meng Yanxi looked straight into her eyes.

 

Jin Zhao suddenly recalled how she had picked up the stick from the ground, trying to help him. But Meng Yanxi hadn’t let her act—on the contrary, he had pulled her away.

 

She didn’t understand and asked, “Why?”

 

“You have no grievances or grudges with them. At most, it counts as seeing injustice and stepping in. But if you lay hands on them, have you heard of grudges breeding grudges? From then on, you’ll be entangled.” Meng Yanxi quietly looked at the girl’s clear, sweet face. “You don’t fear thieves stealing, you fear thieves remembering.”

 

A chill ran down Jin Zhao’s back.

 

Then she suddenly realized something and said in alarm, “But you hit them.”

 

The high-and-mighty favored son of heaven let out a light scoff. “Then let them come try to find me.”

 

The boy was hot-blooded, yet in his bones still carried an arrogant, reckless pride.