Meng Taoyu had just been watching in the classroom as Feng Ning drew on the sticky note: first sketching the outline in pencil, then tracing over it with a water-based pen, all done in one smooth flow, the whole thing taking less than ten minutes. She asked curiously, “Feng Ning, why are you so good at drawing?”
They stood at the edge of the court. Feng Ning watched others playing badminton, thinking back. “I think it was fifth grade of elementary school, I signed up for a drawing interest class. The old man who taught art really liked me, but I stopped going after a while.”
“Why?”
“Because I felt the level of the other little brats in my class was too poor, not worthy of being classmates with someone as excellent as me.” Feng Ning counted off on her fingers. “Then in middle school I started making money painting graffiti walls for people — small restaurants or game shops and the like, and also outdoor ones, though those were more troublesome, because you might get chased off by security guards or city inspectors, and if they caught you, you’d have to pay compensation, do community service or whatever.”
She kept talking without pause, then suddenly seemed to sense something and stopped, tilting her head to glance behind her.
Not too far, not too near, a few girls stood with arms crossed, pointing in this direction, a faint whiff of hostility in the air.
One of them had a bob haircut that Feng Ning somehow found familiar. While she was still trying to place her, the girl walked over.
She was rather arrogant. “Do you know who I am?”
Feng Ning thought about it, studying her for a moment. “Not really.”
“You!” The bob-cut girl looked utterly incredulous. “Don’t play dumb with me.”
Feng Ning went “oh,” finally recognizing her. “You’re that, that, pear-blossom cut girl?”
Duan Yuwei sneered. “Good thing you remember me. Weren’t you all high and mighty before? Liked sticking up for Meng Taoyu, huh.” Then she said something startling: “Don’t leave after school this afternoon, I’ll wait for you at the school gate.”
Feng Ning almost burst out laughing at her lines, wondering if she’d somehow been transported into some overly dramatic teen manga. She slowly said, “Oh,” half-smiling. “Sure, what time.”
“I said after school! Deaf, are you?” The bob-cut girl finished issuing her challenge, glared at her contemptuously, and left arm in arm with the girls beside her.
Meng Taoyu’s face was full of worry, panicking helplessly. “What should we do, what should we do, should we tell a teacher? Or call the police? This is all because of me, I’m dragging you into this, I, I, I’ll go with you.”
“Tch, no need.” Feng Ning waved it off. “What’s there to worry about, what kind of people can Qide’s little darlings even meet on a regular basis, she probably just hired some thugs on short notice to put on a show and scare people.”
No need to even guess — a bob-cut princess born with a silver spoon like that, living a pampered life, wouldn’t have any real contact with the truly dark side of society. Her bullying tactics were limited to social exclusion, tearing up a few books, throwing away a bag or two, at most.
The past couple of years, Nancheng had stepped up its crackdown on organized crime, and many of the local bosses had ended up behind bars; East Street had calmed down quite a bit too, without much serious trouble breaking out.
But back before Meng Hanmo had “gone straight,” Feng Ning had gone through a period of chaotic turf battles with him on East Street.
The thugs there fought for real, picking fights every few days; Meng Hanmo, leading a group of others, went at it ruthlessly, drawing blood every time, and afterward not many people dared to provoke them easily.
Feng Ning’s expression stayed the same as always; she sighed. “This bob-cut girl really has some nerve. Doesn’t even know her own limits. I’d like to see what tricks she’s got up her sleeve.”
“No, really, no. You can’t take this risk. It’s too dangerous. I can’t let you go alone, I’ll come with you.”
Meng Taoyu looked delicate on the outside, but was actually quite stubborn underneath. What she feared most was troubling others — especially those good to her. Her heart ached even more now.
Watching Meng Taoyu on the verge of tears, Feng Ning found it both funny and helpless, and pinched her cheek. “Fine, fine, don’t cry, I’m most afraid of people crying, are you performing a tragic idol drama with me or what?”
Her voice came out slightly choked. “No, I’m really worried about you.”
Feng Ning was perfectly calm. “Then how about this — you sneak along behind at the time, and if they really get serious, you go find the patrolling teacher at the school gate, and I’ll make a run for it, how’s that?”
Meng Taoyu nodded repeatedly.
Back in the classroom, first thing.
Feng Ning strolled over to someone’s side, eyes curving into a smile, asking gently, “So, how is it, Your Highness the little prince, are you satisfied with my apology?”
Jiang Wen’s whole body stiffened, a vein at his temple twitching, and for a moment he had no reaction at all.
Because of the way she leaned in, the girl’s ponytail fell forward, brushing lightly against his shoulder. Her sudden closeness made Jiang Wen lean away. “What are you doing?”
“Checking if your face has healed.” Feng Ning bent slightly at the waist, hands clasped behind her back, examining him earnestly. Jiang Wen’s skin was naturally delicate and fair; even after a couple of days, faint traces were still vaguely visible.
At this close a distance, she could even catch a hint of lemony soap scent.
Jiang Wen’s right hand still gripped his pen; he raised his other hand to block his face, refusing to let her look. He suddenly shot Feng Ning a glance. “What did you mean, drawing a peacock?”
“King of a hundred birds — highlighting your noble status, of course.” Feng Ning said this with perfect seriousness, then straightened up, waving her hand. “By the way, where’s my drawing?”
His brow furrowed, then relaxed; he lowered his eyes, his long dark lashes casting a shadow over his eyelids. “Lost it.”
Feng Ning let out a chuckle, stepping back and returning to her seat, calling out mercilessly, “Better not be hiding it somewhere to gloat over in private late at night.”
Jiang Wen’s expression changed. Her words had him distracted for quite a while. By the time his mind finally settled somewhat, he couldn’t help but feel irritated.
He couldn’t understand why, whenever she appeared, whenever she got close, a tight, stifled feeling would rise in his chest.
His subconscious refused to let him think any further on it.
The last period was self-study; Feng Ning dozed off comfortably at her desk. The clanging, piano-like sound of the bell woke her from her sleep.
Feng Ning stretched, groggily heading downstairs to find the bob-cut girl at the school gate.
The sky was overcast, looking like rain was coming.
Following behind the bob-cut girl, they had just stepped into a small alley when a few people vaguely closed in around her.
Out of nowhere, her collar was yanked from behind. “So you’re the one bullying my sister?” Feng Ning turned to look — a man with a coarse face, dressed in a black skin-tight outfit, a thick gold chain hanging around his neck.
This gold-chain uncle had the kind of face where, if you dared talk back even once, he’d drag you into an alley and beat you senseless the next second.
Against the wall was a stack of discarded cardboard boxes. Feng Ning tugged her collar straight, and in full view of everyone, walked over with an air of complete nonchalance, brushed off the dust, sat down, looked up, and smiled sweetly. “Sir, you look like someone who’s been around the block — a man of the streets shouldn’t ignore reason entirely, right?”
“Sir?” The gold-chain uncle, who’d had a menacing look on his face, was amused into laughing by the honorific. “Oh, go ahead, let’s hear your reasoning. Also, I’ve barely turned twenty, might not deserve that title of ‘sir’ from you.”
Duan Yuwei stood off to the side watching, impatient. “What are you all yammering about, hurry up and teach her a lesson already.”
Feng Ning had always been a master of putting on an act, with excellent composure; her expression didn’t change one bit. “Since you’ve barely turned twenty, then I should call you brother. Here’s the thing — you all don’t need to rush, you just said I was bullying your sister. But actually, she bullied someone else first. This brings us to a philosophical question of whether the chicken or the egg came first. You bullied me, and I bullied you — so who really bullied whom here?”
A snort of laughter escaped from a couple of people, breaking the tense atmosphere entirely. Duan Yuwei stepped forward in a few strides, poking her shoulder, cursing, “What are you being pretentious about now, playing the intellectual again? Haven’t you had enough with the flag-raising speeches? Who wants to hear this nonsense from you, weren’t you plenty aggressive when you cursed me out back then? Acting like an innocent little bunny now? Who the hell do you think you are?”
Feng Ning tilted her chin up slightly, her expression suddenly turning wicked. “Who am I? I’m an envoy of justice, a shining representative, an angel descended from heaven! How old are you and already this vicious at heart? Not only school bullying, but calling in gangsters to beat up a schoolmate too. Do you know what Article 234 of the Criminal Law says? Intentional injury carries a sentence of up to three years imprisonment — right over your head, see it? If you don’t see it, look closer, the cameras are recording everything. In two seconds I could report this to the Education Bureau and the police, want to test me?”
Duan Yuwei was clearly stunned by the tirade for a moment.
The gold-chain thug made a move to smack Feng Ning’s head, snapping fiercely, “Who do you think you’re mouthing off to!”
Duan Yuwei snapped back to herself too. With the numbers on her side now, she couldn’t afford to lose face. She gave Feng Ning a vicious kick. “Right, exactly, who do you think you’re mouthing off to. Threatening us — go ahead, report it if you’ve got the guts.”
“I started off talking things through calmly, and you didn’t want to listen, so I’ll just have to try a different approach.”
Feng Ning leaned back against the wall behind her, pursing her lips, continuing to negotiate: “Don’t think I’m bluffing — I really do have video on my phone of you bullying Meng Taoyu, taken on the first day of school. Plus the cameras — didn’t you notice them yourself? You think I’m scaring you? Anyway, I’ve got nothing to lose here, wherever I go to school, it’s still school, worst case we all just stop going. I came here today planning to settle this once and for all. If you’re not willing, then we’ll see who comes out on top.”
Just as they were deep in this exchange, a furious, murderous shout suddenly cut through the air: “Stop right there!”
Feng Ning’s expression sharpened, and she turned to search for the source of the commotion. A moment later, her mouth fell open into an O shape.
There was Zhao Binlin, charging over, delivering a flying kick that landed on one of the outer thugs, cursing loudly as he went.
Xi Gaoyuan followed close behind. “Damn, Feng Ning, it really is you, you okay?”
The group of them had just been on their way to find somewhere to eat when they spotted Meng Taoyu crouched at the mouth of the alley, wiping frantically at tears. After asking a few questions, they learned that Feng Ning had run into trouble.
The kicked thug lay on the ground, face twisted in pain, clutching his crotch, writhing. A pair of sneakers with hooked laces suddenly came into view, casually stepping over his hand — the figure behind them carrying an air of refined, aristocratic elegance despite it all.
The gold-chain boss raised his voice, barking, “Where the hell did this idiot come from, you looking to die?”
Truth was, Zhao Binlin was usually pretty easygoing, without much of a young-master air about him. But once someone actually pissed him off, no one could hold him back — he got fierce. Not to mention Xi Gaoyuan, who had a hot temper to begin with, the type to ignite at the smallest spark.
Zhao Binlin: “The hell’s your problem, want me to curse out your grandpa again?”
Xi Gaoyuan: “What are you looking at? Keep your damn eyes to yourselves!”
Feng Ning: “…”
A guy with dyed yellow hair blocked Jiang Wen’s path.
Jiang Wen said, “Get lost.”
Provoked by his cold, contemptuous expression, Yellow Hair spat his cigarette butt on the ground. “The hell, these little punks these days are this arrogant now?”
As he spoke, he shoved Jiang Wen.
Jiang Wen steadied himself. “Try touching me again and see what happens.”
So Yellow Hair switched hands and shoved him again, taunting, saying, so what if I touch you, touch you, just touch you. He ended up staggering back from the force of Jiang Wen shaking him off, and was just gearing up for another round of cursing — “you fu—”
The next second, he was kicked flat onto the ground.
Jiang Wen took off his watch, tossed it onto the ground to the side, and immediately followed up with a brutal kick to his stomach.