Zhou Ya had already talked far more than his usual quota tonight, and his throat had long since started to feel uncomfortable.

He stood at the entrance of the police station, watching Jiang Yao’s group leave before lifting his wrist to check the time.

Already half past midnight.

The night wind rustled, but he didn’t feel cold — quite the opposite, he felt overheated all over, finding even a t-shirt under his leather jacket too much.

He smoked two cigarettes at the entrance before Ren Jianbai came out with Fang Long.

“Little sister, ending things with a settlement like this counts as a good outcome. If the other side had kept pursuing it, you’d have been in real trouble.”

This wasn’t the first time Ren Jianbai had earnestly lectured Fang Long — some of what he was saying even felt familiar to himself as he said it. “You’re almost twenty — calling you a kid doesn’t quite fit anymore. You need to learn to rein in your temper, stop going off like a firecracker at the slightest spark…”

Fang Long had her hands in her pockets, head down, clearly not taking in a word of what Ren Jianbai said.

In one ear, out the other.

Ren Jianbai, somewhat at a loss, scratched the back of his head: “It’s getting late. Ride back with your brother.”

Fang Long finally spoke, her voice muffled as if trapped in a glass jar: “No need, I’ll get back myself.”

She didn’t even look at Zhou Ya, walking straight past him.

The next second, she was yanked back by a powerful grip on her arm!

“Hiss!” She bared her teeth and turned to shout at Zhou Ya, “That hurts! Let go of me!”

Zhou Ya ignored her, his grip like an iron clamp locked around her arm, and without a word, pulled her toward the motorcycle.

The man’s legs were long, his strides too wide; Fang Long couldn’t break free and stumbled along, nearly falling.

“Let go, let go!” she cursed, “You damn uncle! You old geezer!!”

Fang Long used her other hand to try to pry his fingers off, but they wouldn’t budge.

She then slapped at his shoulder, back, and arm repeatedly, but that black leather jacket was like his armor — the only one hurting was her own palm.

“Ay ya, A’ya, A’ya, slow down, gentle now…” Ren Jianbai hurried after them, shaking his head helplessly.

He was the same age as Zhou Ya, twenty-nine this year — the two of them were ten years older than Fang Long, so every time Fang Long called Zhou Ya “damn uncle” or “old geezer,” Ren Jianbai felt as if hidden arrows were whizzing into his own chest too.

Having just been cursed at so thoroughly, Fang Long hadn’t felt like crying at all — but now, being dragged around by Zhou Ya like this, her eyes suddenly felt hot.

Even though it was night and few people were on the street, she still felt so humiliated.

Playing the shameless brat was her specialty, so she simply bent her knees, planning to just sit down on the ground.

But Zhou Ya knew her tantrum routine far too well, and besides, “pity the fragrant and cherish the delicate” wasn’t a phrase in Zhou Ya’s personal dictionary.

He suddenly bent down, crouched, and hoisted this stubborn, defiant girl straight up onto his shoulder.

Feet forward, head back, his shoulder pressed against her stomach — he even bounced her a little, no different from carrying a sack of rice.

Fang Long instantly lost her balance, head spinning, white spots flashing before her eyes.

She wanted to scream but couldn’t, because the acid in her stomach was surging up, rushing straight toward her throat: “Put me down… I’m going to throw up… ugh—”

Zhou Ya paid it no mind, walking to the motorcycle before setting Fang Long back down on the ground.

Calling it “setting down” was generous — Fang Long felt like he’d simply dropped her.

She didn’t land steady and fell to the ground, her already-bruised backside from the KTV incident hurting even more, making her grit her teeth and let out a muffled groan.

She raised her face, glaring fiercely at Zhou Ya, still sharp-tongued: “Zhou Ya… go to hell…”

Zhou Ya took off his leather jacket and tossed it casually onto the gas tank.

Meeting Fang Long’s furious gaze, Zhou Ya crouched down in front of her.

Forearms resting on his knees, his broad back rising like a mountain ridge, the t-shirt stretched taut without a single wrinkle.

“Fang Long, this is the last time.”

His face showed no expression, staring straight at Fang Long, his hoarse voice neither rushed nor slow. “Next time you end up at the station, even if Ren Jianbai brings an eight-man palanquin to carry me, I won’t come bail you out.”

Fang Long’s breathing quickened a bit, her chest rising and falling: “Don’t come then, don’t come — it wasn’t even me who asked you to come bail me out tonight anyway!”

These two siblings had always related to each other this way — either giving each other the cold shoulder for a stretch, or bickering and fighting every few days. Ren Jianbai had seen it all before and was long used to it.

He quietly stepped a couple paces to the side, not wanting to get pulled into this “war.”

“Mm, fine, you’d better remember what you just said.”

Zhou Ya smirked coldly, tapping his temple with his index finger. “Think before you act or speak next time, please. Don’t be the type who forgets the pain the moment the wound scars over. And also — can you not open your eyes a little wider? Stop picking these useless men. Look at yourself, what kind of trash have you dated?”

His vocal cords had been damaged since birth, low and hoarse, and honestly not pleasant to listen to.

Like a cracked bell — it could still ring, but ugly, wind passing through the crack, some words coming out as barely more than breath.

Fang Long’s breathing grew even more rapid, a clear burning sensation running from her stomach to her chest, and up to her throat.

She had to bite down on her lip to stop the shivers running up and down her spine.

That was the body’s most instinctive fear when sensing danger.

“Zhou Ya, you have no right to lecture me.”

Fang Long clenched her fists, forcing the corners of her mouth up. “You and Jiang Yao are two of a kind — otherwise Sister Keyun wouldn’t have run off before the wedding.”

Zhou Ya suddenly stiffened, his back tensing further.

Ren Jianbai heard it too, his heart clenching; without thinking further, he hurried over to smooth things over: “Okay, okay, can you two not always be like fire meeting earth? For Auntie Min’s sake, can’t you two just get along peacefully for once?”

He waved a hand: “Don’t argue here. A’ya, take your sister home, don’t make Auntie Min worry.”

The dim glow of the streetlight couldn’t reach into the fathomless depths of Zhou Ya’s eyes; Fang Long, unsettled by his stare, felt her heartbeat lose its rhythm.

She braced a hand on the ground and jumped up, tossing back one line: “No need, I already said I’ll go back myself!”

Then she ran to the roadside, waved down a taxi, and got in.

She moved too fast for Ren Jianbai to stop her; he hurriedly asked Zhou Ya: “Are you really letting her go home alone? What if she doesn’t go home and wanders around town again?”

Zhou Ya stood up, hands on his hips, spat toward the roadside drain cover, then said unhurriedly: “Wherever she wants to go, none of my business.”

“Hey, she’s still your sister after all…”

“Ren Jianbai, seeing how much you care about her, why don’t you just be her ‘brother’ instead.”

Zhou Ya swung his leg over the bike and inserted the key. “I don’t care for this damn sibling relationship — whoever wants to be her brother, go right ahead.”

Ren Jianbai shook his head repeatedly: “No, no, no, I can’t afford to serve that little ancestor.”

The exhaust pipe roared, and Zhou Ya rode the bike over to his childhood friend’s side and stopped.

Ren Jianbai thought he had more to say and took a step forward: “What else—ugh!”

His chest took a solid punch from Zhou Ya, a dull, heavy pain spreading through.

Ren Jianbai cursed through gritted teeth: “What’s wrong with you? Why’d you hit me? I’ll report you for assaulting an officer!”

“I still haven’t settled the score with you.”

The night was cold, and as Zhou Ya spoke, a faint puff of white gathered at his lips, but his tone was ice-cold. “She was practically beaten to a pulp, and you just told me she wasn’t hurt… the hell you call that not hurt?”