Zhou Ya’s left eyelid twitched fiercely, and at the same moment he heard the commotion outside.
Without thinking, he dropped the large iron ladle and ran straight out; the other cooks called after him, but he couldn’t hear anything, his mind entirely fixed on that one person.
In the dining area, a bald man sat sprawled on the ground, cursing while covering his face, soup and broth all over his face and clothes, a pickled vegetable strand hanging from his bald head.
Beside him, several other men—one with a garlic-bulb nose tried to help the bald man up, while the other two pointed at Fang Long, cursing loudly, trying to rush forward, but were blocked by A’Feng and another male staff member.
Fang Long had never been one to hold back when it came to cursing; her voice was loud enough to drown out those two men, an unrepeated stream of profanity pouring out.
Zhang Xiuqin stepped in front of Fang Long at this moment: “Alright, alright, Fang Long, calm down first, let’s talk this through…”
Fang Long shouted loudly: “Talk what! His hand touched my ass! Is he old enough to have Parkinson’s, can’t control his hands? If you’re sick, go to the hospital already! While you’re at it, check your head too—no hair, is your brain shriveling from the cold?”
“Your mother…” the bald man scrambled up with his companion’s help, “Which eye of yours saw me touch you?! And so what if I did touch you? Stinking tramp, out here serving drinks and acting like you’re something special?! You deserve a lesson!”
He was so angry his face flushed red, charging forward like a tank.
A’Feng and the others couldn’t hold him back; just as the bald man was about to grab Fang Long, several people shouted in alarm:
“Hey! What are you doing?!”
“Fang Long, run!”
“Don’t touch her!!”
At that moment, Zhou Ya lunged forward in a single stride, grabbing Fang Long’s hand and yanking her behind him, stepping forward himself to block the bald man, shoving him in the same motion.
“Ah!!” The bald man stepped on a porcelain plate on the ground, stumbled a couple steps, and fell again.
A loud crash boomed out—this time the bald man knocked the table askew, the bottles on it clattering down.
Dazed for a moment, he looked up glaring at this man who’d appeared from nowhere: “Who the hell are you?”
Zhou Ya stood firmly blocking Fang Long, the veins at his temples bulging, his thick brows like two blades ready to be drawn, a surge of killing intent already showing through his narrow eyes.
“The owner of this shop.” Zhou Ya lowered his gaze, staring fiercely at the bald man’s hand, asking in a low voice, “You touched her?”
With backup, Fang Long’s volume rose even more, immediately accusing: “Yes! He touched my ass!”
His left eyelid still twitching, Zhou Ya raised a hand to press it with a knuckle, turning his head slightly, warning hoarsely: “You be quiet, step back.”
The bald man stood up, sneering: “Who the hell touched her? Who saw it?”
He turned to ask his companions: “Did you guys see me touch this woman?”
The other men naturally denied it, shaking their heads: “No!”
The bald man then asked nearby customers: “What about you all? Did anyone see me touch her?”
These men looked like trouble; the customers didn’t dare get involved. The incident had happened suddenly, and truly no one had seen it, so no one answered, some even shaking their heads slightly.
The bald man looked back at the man standing before him, a head taller than himself.
He stood backlit by the cold white light, his eyes very dark, his tensed jaw and shoulders giving off an air that warned strangers to keep their distance.
“You just said you’re the owner of this shop?” The bald man exchanged a glance with his companion, asking Zhou Ya, “Your surname’s Zhou?”
Hearing this, Zhou Ya’s expression barely changed, only pausing a few seconds before saying: “Yes, that’s me.”
The bald man’s mouth curled into an arrogant grin: “You’ve got surveillance here, right? If the camera shows I touched her ass, I’ll kneel and apologize to her.”
A’Feng was furious.
The stall only had a camera installed near the drinks counter, and even that was more for show, guarding against petty thieves rather than anything else—normally just for appearances.
He was about to curse the bald man for obviously coming to stir up trouble, when he suddenly caught Zhou Ya making a gesture at him.
A’Feng immediately understood, finding a chance to slip outside.
The cooks from the kitchen had also run out, even the dishwashing auntie stood with hands on hips off to the side. In terms of numbers, the food stall had the advantage, but as for “who started it,” it had become a case of he-said-she-said.
The bald man’s aggression grew fiercer: “How do you manage your staff as an owner? Throwing plates at customers over a small disagreement? I bet you won’t be able to keep this shop open here anymore!”
The other men kept cursing along, and as if to bolster the bald man’s confidence, they even grabbed bowls and plates off the tables and smashed them straight onto the ground!
The sharp crash of shattering porcelain grated at Fang Long’s ears, making her eyes burn hot.
She suddenly reached out, grabbing Zhou Ya’s arm, gritting her teeth to defend herself: “Zhou Ya… this time really wasn’t me starting it…”
“I know.”
Amid the chaos filling the room, Zhou Ya’s voice was low as water, yet resounding, “I believe you.”
Just six words total, but each one struck heavily against Fang Long’s chest like a bell’s clapper.
Zhou Ya patted the back of Fang Long’s hand lightly, stepped forward, and asked the bald man directly: “No surveillance footage—how do you want to settle this?”
The bald man pointed at Fang Long, viciously: “Have her pour me tea and apologize.”
Before Fang Long could even bristle, Zhou Ya coldly refused outright: “No way.”
The bald man hadn’t expected the shop owner to refuse so quickly, so angry he looked like a bug-eyed goldfish, cheeks quivering: “You—you you you said what?”
“I said, having her pour tea and apologize—no way.” Zhou Ya looked down at the bald man, his low hoarse voice betraying no emotion. “But guests are guests. Since you’re not satisfied with our service, as the owner, I should offer you a drink.”
Zhou Ya picked up an unopened beer from the basket, bit off the cap with his back teeth, and spat it far away.
Not caring whether the bald man and his companions liked it or not, he tilted the bottle straight to his mouth and drank.
His throat bobbed continuously as Zhou Ya downed the whole beer in a few gulps.
Finally, he flipped the bottle over, only a drop or two of liquid falling from the mouth.
The bald man gave a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes: “Finish one bottle and that’s it?”
Without another word, Zhou Ya picked up another bottle, biting off the metal cap.
Fang Long trembled all over with anger: “Zhou Ya! Don’t drink!”
She tried to rush forward, but was held back by the other staff.
Zhou Ya paid no attention to Fang Long’s attempts to stop him, quickly finishing the second bottle.
This time, before the bald man and the others could say anything, Zhou Ya picked up a third beer.
Fang Long’s mind buzzed with static, the scene before her eyes gradually washing white.
The bald man, A’Feng, Sister Xiuqin, customers, staff—she couldn’t see any of them anymore.
Fang Long could only see Zhou Ya’s back, solid as bedrock, standing at the center of her world.
Zhou Ya finished the third bottle and had just set it down when he heard someone shout: “Bro!! Watch out!!”
A flash of light passed at the edge of his vision; Zhou Ya instinctively raised his hand to block.
But he was a beat too slow, and a beer bottle smashed into the side of his head!
His body swayed; his vision went white first, then a wave of dull pain hit.
The bottle shattered into pieces, fine glass shards flying, sour beer got into his eye, a stinging pain unbearable.
Not done yet, the bald man, following his companion’s example, grabbed another bottle and threw it too.
This time Zhou Ya was prepared, dodging slightly, the bottle smashing directly against his shoulder instead.
The bald man tossed the remnants of the beer bottle in his hand aside, tone extremely vicious: “Getting cocky! Just some rundown shop like this, I could tear it down in a minute!!”
The incident had happened so suddenly that no one present had expected the bald man’s group to actually resort to violence.
The surrounding customers panicked, afraid of getting caught up in it, standing up and moving away one after another.
Fang Long was the first to move.
Her mind gave a “buzz,” as if a string had snapped inside her; the next second she grabbed an empty bottle from the ground, gripping the neck, and slammed it hard against the table.
A sharp “clang” rang out, the glass bottle instantly breaking into two pieces.
Jagged shards glinting, pointed directly at the bald man’s group.
Fang Long stood in front of Zhou Ya, her dark eyes smoldering with fire and hatred, glaring death at that fat bastard: “You bunch of things that were never born with balls—touch him again and see what happens!”
One of Zhou Ya’s eyes had gotten beer in it, unable to open fully; through his blurred vision, all he could see was Fang Long’s shoulders heaving.
…A little short winter melon, raised for so many years, and still hadn’t grown any taller no matter what…
…Barely any meat on her, and yet she dared stand in front of him, shielding him…
Various emotions surged violently through him; Zhou Ya pressed a knuckle against his forehead, his chest swelling as if about to burst.
The other staff from the stall couldn’t hold back either, several men with fury blinding their eyes grabbing whatever was at hand: “You want to fight? Huh?!”
One staff member even ran to the cured-meat cutting board to grab a cleaver, wanting to charge forward like Fang Long had.
The bald man’s group had originally still wanted to keep shouting at the young woman, but seeing this scene, they all instinctively stepped back a couple paces.
“All of you, damn it…” Amid the thick smell of alcohol, Zhou Ya caught a faint whiff of blood. He wiped his face and shouted loudly at the staff member holding the cleaver, “Is a kitchen knife for this kind of thing?! Put it back, now!!”
The staff member felt it was unfair for him: “Brother A’Ya, they went too far!!”
Zhou Ya swept a glance over, not bothering to hide the fierce menace in his eyes.
In an instant, the staff all felt a chill in their hearts, slowly lowering their “weapons.”
Only Fang Long remained, still gripping tightly the broken half of the beer bottle in her hand.
At this moment, the sound of a police siren came from far away—faint, but perfectly clear in the night.
A’Feng ran back in from outside too, shouting loudly: “The police are here—”
The shop was a mess, the owner disheveled. A’Feng froze for a few seconds, then quickly reacting, fire rising up from the soles of his feet, grabbing a stool to avenge his boss: “I—I’ll fight you bunch of scumbags to the death!”
“Put it down!!”
Zhou Ya roared at him.
A’Feng’s shoulders trembled; he glanced at Zhou Ya before slowly lowering the chair, but his reddened eyes stayed locked fiercely on those men.
The bald man and the others exchanged a glance, tilted their chins, tossed out a few harsh threats, and then, with perfect coordination, all ran out at once.
A’Feng, still furious, chased after them shouting: “Beat someone and then try to run?! I see you all came here on purpose to wreck the place!!”
Zhou Ya, his head aching from hearing this, said to Zhang Xiuqin: “Go pull him back. Just get the license plate, that’s enough.”
Zhang Xiuqin, still shaken, nodded repeatedly, asking him: “You—are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?”
Zhou Ya had no mood to deal with her.
He stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Fang Long’s flushed ears and reddened eyes.
“Fang Long, that’s enough.”
Zhou Ya’s voice softened, one hand gripping her trembling wrist, the other slowly prying open her fingers.
She’d been gripping too tight, her fingertips already white, her fingers ice-cold. Zhou Ya was patient, not daring to rush, and finally managed to take the beer bottle from her hand.
“Fang Long, that’s enough.” He stood very close to her, his lips almost touching the top of her head as he spoke. “You can let go now.”
Fang Long took a deep breath, suddenly looking up.
Her eyes seemed to simmer with a pool of blood, making Zhou Ya’s heart tremble.
Fang Long stayed silent for a long moment, her lips bitten swollen and red by herself.
Zhou Ya didn’t speak either, but the hand loosely circling her wrist never let go.
Suddenly, Fang Long grabbed his hand, lowered her head, and opened her mouth.
Like an overstimulated feral cat, she bit down hard on Zhou Ya’s arm.