Fuck, Where's My Bike?

The headlights were so bright that the old man and Feng Jun both narrowed their eyes under the beams.

The old man reacted first. Though his eyesight was failing with age, he still cried out immediately, "It's those little bastards!"

Feng Jun was not slow either. "Huh? Those street racers?"

Like other second-tier cities, Zhengyang had its share of thrill-seeking street racers. They rode heavily modified high-powered motorcycles, and every midnight, large groups of them raced along the outer ring road. To make things more exciting, there were even betting pools.

They were not necessarily all that evil, but they were absolutely reckless. Not long ago, the police had busted a racing gang because each of their bikes had a gorgeous motorcycle girl riding on the back.

The motorcycle girls not only tested their riding skills, but were also the stakes of the race: the winner got to screw them all.

That was right, the winner got to screw them all, not take all the prizes—and it happened right in front of everyone.

From the police's perspective, that shit was absolutely intolerable. It was a clear-cut case of organized sexual depravity.

But why had these energetic idiots come here?

The next moment, the old man sighed. "Those little bastards are here to mess with me?"

They really were here to cause trouble. Several ropes were promptly thrown over, with iron grappling hooks tied to their ends. The hooks latched firmly onto the iron gate.

Feng Jun also understood what they were trying to do, so he asked, "Hey, aren't you calling the police?"

"What good would that fucking do?" the old man snapped, his tone full of helplessness. "They're just a bunch of brats, probably not even eighteen yet. Their families have money too. They'd be released before spending even one night locked up... If I really call the police, they'll come back to make trouble every few days."

Hearing that explanation, Feng Jun gave up on the idea of calling the police for him. The old man himself had given up. Why should he go play Lei Feng?

Besides, the old man's stubborn refusal to turn on the power had caused him no small amount of inconvenience. He was not some saint who repaid grievances with kindness.

So he merely smiled and asked, "You know these people well?"

The old man snorted irritably. "There are quite a few useless brats like that in Xiaowu Village."

Feng Jun understood now. Xiaowu Village had urbanized fairly early and was in a good location, so its villagers were quite wealthy.

After several grappling hooks caught onto the iron gate, the huge roar of engines sounded again, and the motorcycles sped away.

Then, the ropes tied to the grappling hooks went taut in an instant, viciously yanking at the iron gate.

For a moment, it felt as though they had returned to ancient times, when nomads used horses to drag down fences and breach defenses.

Honestly, this kind of stunt was just showing off. The factory's iron gate was already old, and even the wall holding it in place had loosened. Three or four young men charging it with force would have been enough to knock it down. Using motorcycles to pull it was actually more likely to damage the bikes.

But wasn't showing off exactly why these little punks raced motorcycles in the first place?

Several ropes pulled at once. The iron gate swayed, then crashed to the ground with a tremendous bang.

"Was that really necessary?" Feng Jun was practically dumbfounded. It was such a huge iron gate—couldn't it have put up at least a little resistance?

The street racers cheered, turned their bikes around, and all came racing back.

Brilliant headlights shone brazenly into the factory, accompanied by the deafening roar of engines.

Clearly, these people were bold beyond belief. They were in no hurry to flee, and once they did decide to run, no one would likely be able to catch them.

Two motorcycles shut off their engines, and three men and one woman walked over.

Two of the men carried nunchucks. The woman wore a black tight-fitting tank top and denim hot pants, with a wide leather belt around her waist studded with gleaming rivets, exposing two long pale legs.

It was a typical delinquent-girl outfit, and her makeup was so heavy that even her mother probably would not recognize her.

The old man could not help muttering, "If my daughter dressed like that, I'd hang her up and beat her!"

But these four were the ones who had come to humiliate him. A sturdy young man with a crew cut spoke up, his fleshy face full of viciousness. "Old man, you won't turn on the streetlights? You trying to get us killed in a traffic accident?"

The old man took two steps back, grabbed the shovel beside the door, and sneered. "Come on, try laying a hand on me."

One look at his unflinching manner made it clear that he meant it. After all, he had lived through turbulent times. Though he was old now, he truly was not afraid to risk his life.

The four young people all froze. Nunchucks were much shorter than a shovel. If they really fought... fuck, that could be dangerous.

One of the youths shouted, "Where are the grappling hooks? Take down this old bastard!"

The nunchucks could not beat a shovel, but the ropes attached to the grappling hooks were long enough to attack from a distance.

Of course, the old man knew that once his shovel was tangled by a grappling hook, he would be done for. So he shouted, "You dare damage public property? College student, call the police!"

Earlier, there had been no grounds to call the police. But now that the gate had been dragged down, there was.

The woman glared fiercely at Feng Jun. "Kid, this has nothing to do with you. Don't be ungrateful when we're giving you face."

Feng Jun had originally just been watching the show—neither side was made up of good people—but hearing that made him sick.

Still, he could not be bothered to steal the spotlight. He shoved both hands into his pockets and sauntered out through the gate.

Seeing that he did not react, the old man's brows jumped in anger. But he quickly accepted reality: there were so many people on the other side, while the college student was only a tenant. What right did he have to demand that the young man get involved?

Still, he could not help sighing inwardly. Young people nowadays really had no spirit compared to his generation.

The crew-cut man walked forward with his nunchucks. He did not even look at the shovel, only stared at the old man. "I'll give you two choices. First, turn on the power obediently. Second, we beat you up first, then force you to turn on the power."

The old man snorted. "I'm Sixth Master of Xiaowu Village. You little bastards... Try touching your Sixth Master."

Xiaowu Village was a famously wealthy village, and its villagers were fairly united. Ordinary people did not want to provoke a group that was both rich and tightly knit.

The crew-cut man was stunned at first, then laughed. "Sixth Master? Never heard of him. But Sixth Master... can you guarantee you'll never walk alone at night again?"

Maybe he did not know the old man's background and would not hit him now, but if the old man got clubbed from behind while walking at night later, he should not complain.

The old man understood that threat perfectly. Street racers were hard to guard against. The ones in Zhengyang only raced, but in southern cities, many motorcycle riders were bag snatchers.

And that was not the kind of "chopping hands" people talked about when shopping on . They snatched bags from motorcycles, and if the victim refused to let go, they might really chop off their hand.

If people like that set their sights on him, he truly could not handle it. At his age, his hearing had grown worse and his powers of observation had declined.

The old man snorted. "There are plenty of kids in Xiaowu Village who ride bikes too."

"There are no experts in Xiaowu Village," the crew-cut man commented casually.

Still, he did not truly want to provoke people from Xiaowu Village, especially since this old man seemed to have some standing. So he spoke frankly, "Old man, this woman is my girl. Give me some face today and turn on the power. I won't come back again."

Though the old man had a violent temper and was not afraid of fighting, people from his generation generally understood the art of compromise.

He nodded slightly. "Wouldn't it have been simpler if you'd said that earlier? I can give you that face, but... whose daughter is this girl?"

"Old man, don't mistake kindness for weakness!" the delinquent girl cursed.

"Fuck, stop spouting shit from your mouth!" The old man also got angry. "If I had a daughter like you, I'd beat her to death!"

"Be your daughter? Dream on," the delinquent girl sneered.

"Enough," the crew-cut man finally said. He spoke impatiently. "Are you done? Keep arguing and I'm leaving."

The delinquent girl immediately fell silent, while the old man muttered, "You dragged the gate right off, and you're still acting so damned high and mighty..."

Mutter as he might, the old man still walked behind the house, opened the distribution box, and flipped the switch.

With a dull thump, the area was instantly flooded with light. In particular, several streetlights near the factory entrance came on, illuminating the street racers and their six motorcycles.

Seeing that they had achieved their goal, the four whistled and ran toward the gate. "Run!"

That was what made street racers so hateful. They came when they wanted and left when they wanted, acting swiftly and unpredictably.

But the next moment, the crew-cut man stopped in shock. "Fuck... where's my bike?"

Another youth also cried out, "Fuck... where's my bike?"

The four had gotten off two motorcycles. Their companions' bikes were right beside them, yet at a glance, there were now only six bikes left, each with a rider on it.

"This is fucking supernatural," the crew-cut man said, looking around. "Did someone ride them off?"

They had shut off the engines when they got off, but they had not pulled out the keys so they could make a quick getaway.

"That's impossible," one of the nearby riders shook his head. "There are so many of us here."

The crew-cut man looked ahead and saw a young man walking out while looking down at his phone. He shouted, "Hey, you! Stop right there!"

"Why the fuck are you yelling?" Feng Jun stuffed his phone into his pocket, turned his head, and cursed. "Were you born a donkey?"

"Say that again, asshole?" the delinquent girl shouted. "You tired of living?"

"Come on, come on, I am tired of living." Feng Jun laughed in anger. "Let's see which one of you can take my life!"

"Enough." The crew-cut man was quite rational. He waved a hand and said in a low voice, "I don't have time to trade insults with you. I just want to ask one thing... have you seen my motorcycle?"

Street racers were arrogant and reckless, but they could not go around casually taking lives. Then they would not be street racers, but gangsters. These young people had excessive energy, but that did not mean they had no brains.

In fact, people who did this lived at the edge of the rules, and their intelligence was above average. They knew perfectly well that street racing was no big deal, but street racing mixed with organized crime would become a massive problem.

The crew-cut man spoke very sincerely. "My bike is worth eight hundred thousand. If you can give me a clue that helps me find it, I'll give you a hundred thousand!"