Jiang Cheng cast his gaze downward, looking at the boy collapsed on the floor. His voice was low and unhurried. “You’re in luck — you’ve run into a kind soul. Since this young lady is concerned about you, you’d better answer her properly.”

The boy was dazed and disoriented. His lips trembled for a long moment before he managed to shake his head and say, haltingly: “No… no need to call the police. We… we were just playing around…”

The tip of Zhou Jin’s brow twitched ever so slightly.

The men who had just been beating him broke into vicious grins. One of them pressed his foot onto the boy and ground down, asking: “So, did you have fun?”

The boy’s entire body had gone numb from the pain — this level of pressure barely registered. His eyelids were heavy; he forced them open just barely and answered: “Fun.”

Jiang Cheng turned to Zhou Jin with a smile. “Hear that?”

Zhou Jin: “…”

The largest man among them — broad-shouldered and powerfully built — stepped forward and moved closer to Zhou Jin, reaching out to flick a strand of her hair.

Zhou Jin didn’t flinch or move aside. She simply stared straight at him with a hard, unflinching glare.

The man raised his voice: “I’m talking to you — did you hear me? You’re still standing here — what, you want to stay and have a little fun with us?”

Zhou Jin’s gaze turned icy. She lifted her chin and warned him: “Get your hand away from me.”

The man was momentarily taken aback. That face — so cool and refined, lips a vivid red — and when her hair had been pushed aside, the snow-white lobe of her ear came into view. At first glance she wasn’t blindingly striking, but the longer you looked, the more her appeal grew on you.

His mouth went a little dry. He couldn’t help running his tongue over his thick lips, and laughed: “Brother Cheng, I’m in luck too — ran into a little firecracker. Damn, she’s got a kick to her.”

Jiang Cheng lit another cigarette, lowered his head, and drew a deep drag from it. Wreathed in drifting smoke, his face took on a faint, murky cast. He half-narrowed his eyes as he appraised Zhou Jin, but the words he spoke were directed at the boy: “Yellow-hair, I’ll give you one chance. You leave, the woman stays — or you let her go.”

The boy struggled to look toward the woman’s face.

Jiang Cheng’s voice turned cold. “Choose.”

The boy hesitated for just a moment, then hauled himself upright and dragged his aching, battered legs — lurching and limping — toward the restroom exit. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Zhou Jin. He just muttered under his breath: “Sorry, sorry — but you were the one sticking your nose in where it didn’t belong… who asked you to stick your nose in…”

He gathered every last bit of strength he had and fled, leaving Zhou Jin alone in the restroom.

Jiang Cheng arched one dark brow with a languid, careless air, and laughed at her: “Little sister, for a worthless coward like that — was it really worth it?”

He stubbed out his cigarette, walked straight toward Zhou Jin, seized her wrist, and yanked her hard against him.

Zhou Jin was caught completely off guard and slammed headfirst into his chest — solid, unyielding, thick with the smell of tobacco. She furrowed her brow and tilted her head up, coming face to face with Jiang Cheng’s dark, brooding eyes.

For just a moment, she thought she saw in those eyes the Jiang Cheng she had once known — but it was like a trick of the mind, gone in an instant.

Before Zhou Jin had time to react, Jiang Cheng reached out, pulled open the door to a utility closet, and shoved her inside.

The force behind it was brutal. Zhou Jin couldn’t keep her balance and slammed into the cold, hard wall.

The others exchanged glances and snickered, moving to follow them in.

Jiang Cheng lifted his eyes and looked at them. He tugged at the collar of his tightening tie, and let a single word fall from his lips, cold as ice: “Out.”

The man who had first touched Zhou Jin frowned, clearly displeased — was Jiang Cheng stealing the meal right out of his mouth?

The others understood what Jiang Cheng meant. They snickered a couple of times. “Alright, alright! We know this isn’t your kind of thing, Brother Cheng — you take your time, we’ll head downstairs and keep Boss He company over drinks.”

That man held Jiang Cheng’s gaze for two or three seconds, then finally tamped down his temper and went silent. Pulled along by the others, he quickly left the restroom.

Jiang Cheng locked the utility closet door behind him with a turn of his hand. He fixed his gaze on Zhou Jin, and after a moment, leaned in and closed the distance. The space was cramped, and Jiang Cheng was tall — he bore down on her until Zhou Jin had nowhere to retreat.

Jiang Cheng lowered his head and pressed his face toward her neck, inhaling. He caught the scent of liquor clinging to her skin, and said plainly: “You’re on an operation. Who are you here investigating?”

Zhou Jin’s frown deepened further.

Jiang Cheng let out a scornful laugh. “Save it. I know the police playbook better than you do. If you’re here to investigate, then investigate — what are you doing running around sticking your nose into other people’s business?”

Zhou Jin heard the faint thread of pride in his tone and found it laughable. A man who had once been a police officer, now running with criminals — and still had the nerve to feel smug about the professional skills he’d learned in his former life?

Her eyes went cold. She asked him: “Two years, and you still haven’t died?”

“Cursing me like that?” He didn’t take offense. The sharp lines of his face softened, and he broke into a grinning smile that showed the edge of one canine tooth. “I’ve been thinking about you — if I’m going to die, I want to die right on top of you.”

The glib lewdness in his words turned Zhou Jin’s stomach. She thought of the boy who had just been beaten half to death, thought of the subordinates who trailed at Jiang Cheng’s heels obeying his every command — and felt both furious and disgusted.

Zhou Jin’s eyes hardened with venom. She drove her knee hard into his abdomen.

Jiang Cheng didn’t react in time and took the full force of it. He didn’t make a sound through the pain. With swift, practiced reflexes he caught Zhou Jin’s hand as it clawed toward his throat, hooked his leg around hers at the knee, and wrenched her entire right arm behind her back.

A single move — and all the strength drained out of Zhou Jin’s body. Her knee bent sideways; she nearly went down on it.

She struggled — it made no difference. She was in pain, but she bit down and endured it, matching Jiang Cheng’s tolerance and then some.

Jiang Cheng let out a tutting laugh: “Xiao Wu, what happened to you? You’ve lost your edge. Don’t go around telling people I’m the one who trained you.”

Zhou Jin said coldly: “Let go!”

“You’re really angry?” Jiang Cheng tilted his head and gave her a careful once-over, then quickly released her arm and moved his hand to her waist instead. “I was just playing with you — why get so worked up?”

Zhou Jin moved to push his hand away.

“Don’t move.” Jiang Cheng pulled her firmly into his arms. “Let me look at you.”

The smile on Jiang Cheng’s face slowly faded. His gaze deepened slightly, and he held Zhou Jin in his eyes for a full two or three seconds before he finally said: “Why did you cut your hair so short?”

He raised his hand and gently pinched a loose strand of hair near her ear between his fingers, then slowly drew closer to her.

Their eyes were locked on each other’s, their noses almost touching. Jiang Cheng’s voice was low and rough: “Long hair suited you better.”