First Meeting

The deafening sound system was an indispensable part of the rowdy nightlife.

Jiang Qiao was all too familiar with places like this, awash in neon lights and drunken extravagance.

His old boxing ring had been in the basement of a bar like this.

Before the ring opened for business, Jiang Qiao would often sit upstairs and have a couple of drinks.

Alcohol stimulated the brain, exciting his nerves while numbing some of his pain.

Jiang Qiao flipped through the drink menu, ordered a Negroni, tipped the bartender twenty bucks, then sat at the bar and waited quietly.

The liquor entered his mouth with Campari's bitterness, vermouth's sweetness, and a hint of herbal fragrance, all perfectly balanced across Jiang Qiao's taste buds.

The intensity and aroma of gin had always captured his heart.

The only blemish was the bartender's smile—what he thought was wickedly charming was actually greasy and lecherous. It made Jiang Qiao's hands itch, and he regretted giving the man a tip.

He lowered his head to avoid the bartender's gaze, took out his phone, and opened Shaun the Sheep amid the noise.

The cartoon had no dialogue, making it perfect for watching in such a boisterous setting.

Just as he finished the third episode and prepared to play the fourth, Jiang Qiao's ears twitched. He vaguely heard something unusual coming from upstairs in the bar.

Someone was fighting.

Then came a gunshot, followed by a man in a black suit plummeting straight down from the third floor.

He crashed into the liquor cabinet beside the bar with a loud bang.

The cabinet toppled over, and countless bottles and glasses shattered beneath the man. Under the dim lights, it was impossible to tell whether the large puddle of liquid was blood or alcohol.

The deafening DJ music stopped, and so did the drunken revelers swaying their heads.

Someone's scream broke the silence first. Then the entire bar swiftly descended into chaos.

Jiang Qiao paid no attention to the man lying less than half a meter from his feet, dead or alive.

He tipped back the rest of his drink, slipped his phone into his jacket pocket, zipped it up, rose to his feet, and calmly threaded through the panicked crowd fleeing in every direction toward the bar's kitchen.

The moment the chaos began, everyone in the kitchen had already vanished without a trace.

With his jacket zipper caught between his teeth, Jiang Qiao took a fruit knife still slick with lemon juice from the cutting board.

He casually wiped it twice on an apron hanging from a rack, tucked it beneath his arm, and kicked open the locked little door used for deliveries of fruit.

Humming Cheating, which he had heard not long ago, he crouched in the narrow, deep alley outside the door and waited for the rabbit to come to him.

Before long, movement indeed came from the bar's back entrance.

A buzz-cut, scar-faced man in a black suit rushed out first, shielding another man whose head was lowered, his features obscured.

His steps were hurried, and he cut a disheveled figure.

Five or six thugs followed close behind.

The man with his head lowered and the bodyguard protecting him ignored Jiang Qiao, who was crouched by the side of the alley, and hurried past him.

The instant the man passed him, Jiang Qiao saw his face clearly. His brow lifted, and he gave a derisive snort.

Then he stood and blocked the middle of the alley, cutting off the path of the five or six thugs behind them.

The thug in front clearly intended to ignore Jiang Qiao as well, rudely trying to shove him aside and continue the chase.

Yet Jiang Qiao easily pushed him back.

The gang leader stared at Jiang Qiao with hostility. "Kid, move."

Jiang Qiao did not move. Smiling, he raised his index finger and wagged it at the man. "No. You stepped on my little flower. You need to compensate me."

The gang leader did not understand. "What little flower?"

Jiang Qiao grabbed the gang leader by the collar, lifted him, and slammed him viciously into the wall. Then he pointed at the little leopard keychain he had dropped earlier, which the thug had crushed beneath his foot.

Caught off guard by Jiang Qiao's sudden attack, the gang leader realized the young man before him would not be easy to handle and had no desire to waste time tangling with him.

If they delayed any longer, their target would get away.

He took a wad of bills from his pocket and threw it at Jiang Qiao. "Here. Stop blocking the way!"

Jiang Qiao liked money, but he did not like having money thrown at him.

His smile vanished as he glared darkly at the gang leader. "You're finished."

Before the gang leader could react, Jiang Qiao punched him squarely in the face and knocked him to the ground.

Seeing this, the other thugs behind him did not waste words. They charged forward together, intending to deal with Jiang Qiao first.

Jiang Qiao flexed his fingers, spun around, and lashed out with a sweeping kick. The movement sliced through the air with a fierce whistle, and amid the crack of colliding bones, he swiftly dropped the man in front.

Seeing that, another man behind him raised his leg to kick Jiang Qiao. Jiang Qiao grabbed his calf, exerted strength with both arms, and forcibly swung the burly man—well over six feet tall—in a full circle, smashing him into another thug.

The remaining man took the chance to circle behind Jiang Qiao and tried to choke him, but Jiang Qiao seized his wrist without even turning around. With a sharp twist of his waist, he hurled him brutally to the ground in an over-the-shoulder throw.

A barrage of heavy punches followed.

The gang leader's eyes went red. He climbed to his feet, pulled a gun from inside his jacket, and pointed it at Jiang Qiao's forehead.

He looked at Jiang Qiao and issued one final warning. "Stop blocking the way."

Jiang Qiao curled his lip, glanced at his watch, and slowly raised his hands over his head in surrender.

He walked to the edge of the alley and reluctantly made way, complaining, "It was just a joke. Why pull a gun?"

If he had not been on a mission with time pressing, the gang leader would definitely have taught this blind idiot a proper lesson.

He gave Jiang Qiao a long, hard look, then led his companions, who had climbed back to their feet, in swift pursuit into the depths of the alley.

Watching their figures disappear into the darkness, Jiang Qiao knocked on the bar's back door. "Come out. They've left."

No one answered.

Jiang Qiao poked his head into the pitch-black doorway. Just as he was about to call out again, his neck went cold.

A fruit knife had been pressed against his throat.

Judging by the faint lemon scent wafting from it, it was the very knife he had taken from the bar's kitchen earlier.

An excessively pleasant, deep voice sounded behind him.

"Whose man are you?"

It was the first time Jiang Qiao had had a knife put to him without even realizing it. He was somewhat dissatisfied with his vigilance, which had clearly declined after a year of languishing in illness.

In a mournful tone, he said, "I'm a kindhearted passerby. Like the farmer and the snake, Mister Dongguo and the wolf, Lü Dongbin and the dog."

The man gave a soft laugh, lowered the knife from Jiang Qiao's throat, and said bluntly, "Take me out of here."

The voice suited the man. When Jiang Qiao turned around, he met a face so handsome it was an outrage to heaven and earth.

His deep-set brows and eyes made him look mixed-race. His facial features were sharply defined without being overly severe, their angles softened by the gentleness distinctive to Easterners.

He was tall and well-proportioned. Though both his height and appearance were imposing, his entire person radiated a lazy, carefree air.

Jiang Qiao's pupils contracted.

Damn!

Wasn't he two hundred and fifty-one streets ahead of those so-called number-one male models from every country Jiang Qiao had watched while bedridden?

Even the tiny mole at the corner of his eye seemed to have grown precisely, perfectly within Jiang Qiao's tastes.