“88” was a newly opened KTV in town, with a rich song library and trendy décor, having adopted a big-city business model — fifty yuan per person got you three hours of singing plus a buffet, which had drawn quite a few young people in town.

Tonight Fang Long had sung with a few friends from seven to ten, and when they were about to head home, Fang Long spotted Jiang Yao’s motorcycle at the KTV entrance.

She told her friends to go ahead without her and went back upstairs alone, patiently checking room after room.

In one small private room, she saw Jiang Yao, a girl sitting on his lap, the two of them wrapped up in each other, kissing after every line of a love song.

I take a gentle taste, this rich temptation, you have all the qualities I love…

I take a gentle taste, you say you love me, a candy too sweet to bear to eat, even smiling…

This was one of the love songs they’d always sung together during their relationship whenever they did karaoke.

The girl had her back to the small window by the door, but Fang Long still recognized her at a glance — it was her close friend, Wu Danchun.

All the inconsistencies from before suddenly made sense.

Fang Long had had some drinks while singing tonight, and the alcohol now surged up, fueling a fury that burned sky-high, instantly snapping the last thread of restraint in her mind.

She pushed the door open and charged in, grabbing the drinks off the table without hesitation and splashing them at the couple’s faces.

Before they could react, she lunged and grabbed Wu Danchun by the sweater collar, slapping her hard.

Jiang Yao finally came to his senses and shoved Fang Long down hard, sending her onto the marble coffee table, her tailbone half numb from the impact.

Grief and rage mixed in Fang Long, the fire in her burning even hotter — she grabbed whatever was in reach and hurled it all at Jiang Yao.

Wine bottles, fruit platters, fries and peanuts, microphones and dice cups, everything flying like scattered flowers.

Her vision blurred with tears, she could only see that dog of a man, momentarily forgetting there was someone else in the room.

Wu Danchun grabbed her ponytail from behind and slapped her several times.

It should have hurt, but Fang Long’s adrenaline was running so high at that point she felt nothing, still had the strength to push Wu Danchun off and lunge at Jiang Yao again, opening her mouth and biting down hard on his neck.

What happened after that, Fang Long couldn’t clearly remember — she was pushed and pulled, hit and kicked, until the KTV staff rushed in and separated them.

…

“Look at this, and this, all your cousin’s handiwork!”

Jiang Yao alternated between pointing at the scratches on his face, the tooth marks on his neck, and his ruined wool sweater, gritted his teeth, eyes wide with fury, as though the person sitting across from him wasn’t his girlfriend of nearly half a year, but some sworn enemy who’d killed his father.

Jiang Yao’s mother said, heartbroken: “She actually smashed a wine bottle over my son’s head! Is that something you just do casually? What if she’d hit his eye? What if he’d gone blind? Can you pay me back a pair of eyes for my son?!”

Wu Danchun’s mother glared coldly: “My daughter has been held in the palm of our hands since she was little, we’ve never dared scold her even once, and tonight your cousin beat her like this — it’s definitely going to cause psychological trauma! We demand that — whatever it’s called — physical damage compensation! Plus emotional distress compensation!”

Wu Danchun, delicate as pear blossoms in the rain, had actually said very little the whole time.

“Physical damage compensation? That’s called personal injury compensation.”

Fang Long’s eyelids drooped halfway, the corners of her long, narrow eyes lifting in mockery. “Dream on… I’ll pay you in farts, want some?”

Ren Jianbai sucked in a cold breath, instinctively looking toward Zhou Ya.

The man, arms crossed since sitting down, head slightly lowered, eyes fixed on some wood grain on the table — no one knew which.

Motionless, like a meditating monk.

Ren Jianbai’s temples throbbed with pain, feeling like he’d dropped a rock on his own foot, having summoned one troublemaking ancestor to deal with another.

“You!!” Wu Danchun’s mother was provoked again, slapping the already rickety-looking table until it seemed about to fall apart. “Officer! Look! Look at this one’s attitude! I’m so angry my heart, my heart— ow, it hurts—”

“Mom, don’t get angry, I’m really fine.” Wu Danchun finally spoke up, taking her mother’s arm and gently persuading her. “Actually this whole thing is just a misunderstanding, once it’s cleared up it’ll be fine, I don’t need any compensation…”

If Wu Danchun could speak with the same barbed sharpness as Jiang Yao’s mother and Wu Danchun’s mother, Fang Long could have argued with her energetically for two hours straight without repeating a single curse word.

But Wu Danchun was precisely not like that.

She was frail and pitiful, tears falling one by one, forming a stark contrast with the fierce, coarse Fang Long, cursing sentence after sentence.

Fang Long’s temper flared again nameless, and just as she was about to jump up, a hand reached over from beside her and landed on the table in front of her, not too hard, not too soft.

Zhou Ya hadn’t actually used much force, but it still made a loud “bang.”

Just that one sound, and the noisy room instantly fell silent.

No one made a sound.

Zhou Ya didn’t want to waste more time watching this farce and wanted to settle it quickly.

He didn’t even bother lifting his eyelids, his long lashes hiding the impatience in his eyes: “Go get checked at the hospital. Whatever it costs, bring me the invoice and I’ll pay.”

Wu Danchun’s mother’s voice wasn’t as urgent anymore, but held some suspicion: “You’ll pay whatever it is?”

“My stall is A’ya’s, on the next street over.”

Zhou Ya raised his eyes, the irises extremely black. “If I don’t pay, you’re welcome to come find me at the shop every day.”

Hearing this, Fang Long wasn’t pleased at all, frowning at Zhou Ya: “Why are you paying for me? No wait, why should we pay them anything at all?”

Zhou Ya treated her as invisible, continuing to address the four across from them: “If the medical report shows they’re unable to work because of tonight, I can also compensate you for lost wages.”

Fang Long gasped, her voice rising: “Zhou Ya, are you insane?!”

He couldn’t quite hold it back — Zhou Ya rolled his eyes: “You be quiet.”

He stared at Jiang Yao, then suddenly let out a light laugh and said: “Of course, that’s assuming they have ‘work’ to lose.”

Jiang Yao froze for a few seconds before quickly catching the mockery, his face flushing pig-liver red, unable to refute.

Fang Long burst out laughing: “Ha! Neither of them has a job, what lost wages!”

Wu Danchun’s mother was displeased: “Forget the lost wages, but that — emotional damages — we’re definitely pursuing that!”

Jiang Yao’s mother nodded repeatedly: “Right, right, right!”

The “peacemaker” Ren Jianbai tapped the table: “Families, families, since we’re all sitting here together, let’s talk calmly. Things can always be worked out. Look, Fang Long’s family is clearly acting in good faith, but we can’t just demand compensation carelessly either, right?”

“What do you mean, demand carelessly? This is what we deserve!”

“If you don’t pay, I’ll sue her! Let her sit in jail for ten days, half a month, that’d be fine too!”

“I’ve never seen a girl like this — cursing, hitting people, so rude and savage, absolutely no manners!”

“Thank god our Jiang Yao already broke up with you — whichever family marries you in the future is cursed for eight generations!”

“Bang—!”

A loud crash silenced the noisy, bickering group.

Even Fang Long jumped.

This time Zhou Ya had used a bit more force, and the sound was louder.

He withdrew his hand, palm up, and crooked two fingers at Fang Long: “Stand up.”

Fang Long didn’t understand: “Why do I have to stand?”

Zhou Ya couldn’t be bothered to explain, just looked at her without saying a word.

Cursing him silently in her head — dark-faced devil, old geezer — Fang Long reluctantly stood up.

Zhou Ya then had her turn around.

Fang Long was wearing a pink-and-white hoodie on top today, jeans and boots below.

The front of the hoodie was already covered in stains, and so was the back — red, yellow, filthy beyond belief.

And on her back, there was a shoe print, not very large, light brown.

Someone had apparently stepped in some spilled drink, then kicked her in the back.

“Since both sides used their hands, I’ll have my cousin get checked too, see if there’s tetanus, internal bleeding, broken ribs, anything like that — and you’ll have to cover that medical bill too.”

Zhou Ya remained seated, tilting his chin toward the still-sniffling Wu Danchun. “Take a look — doesn’t this shoe print look like it was made by that pair of little leather shoes she’s wearing?”

The whole room went quiet, and Ren Jianbai and the young officer both looked at the shoe print, then down at Wu Danchun’s feet.

Fang Long twisted her head back as far as she could but still couldn’t see the print on her own back, wishing she could just rip the hoodie off to look.

Wu Danchun shifted uncomfortably, pulling her legs back, unsure how to respond: “I, I…”

Zhou Ya crossed his arms again, his gaze somehow having sharpened considerably: “Truly, you can’t judge a book by its cover. Who knew such a thin, delicate little girl could be so vicious.”

————Author’s Note————

Sweet by Jay Chou