"Pei Lu!"
Wang Xiaoliang roared, his voice cracking. The short figure visibly faltered.
He had no idea where he found the strength. The zip ties had cut into his wrists for almost two hours, leaving them numb, and his legs were weak too, but his whole body shot forward as if launched, right in that instant of her surprise.
The gun fired.
Wang Xiaoliang slammed into her chest.
The gunshot wasn't a sharp crack. It was muffled and rough, like a cheap firecracker. The steel ball struck the ceiling, sending plaster dust showering down.
The muzzle had veered off target.
The short woman staggered back two steps from the impact and fell backward. She swung the gunstock around, smashing it into Wang Xiaoliang's head.
Pain.
Not the kind that crept up slowly, but the kind that exploded, turning his vision completely white for an instant. Wang Xiaoliang toppled to the floor, his ears ringing.
Fan Qishan moved. He had been smiling all along, from beginning to end. Now he stopped smiling. He stood up and stamped down on Pei Lu's stomach. Not a kick, but a stomp, with tremendous force.
Pei Lu curled up like a shrimp, her scream piercing.
The woman who had kicked the clown flying was already there. One kick. The gun flew away, skidded several meters across the floor, struck the corner, and bounced back.
It was over.
From Wang Xiaoliang shouting that name, to the gunshot, to Pei Lu falling to the floor, it had again taken only an instant.
Only when the zip ties were cut did Wang Xiaoliang realize his hands were shaking. Not a slight tremor, but an uncontrollable shaking that ran through his entire arms. Blood surged back into his wrists, prickling and aching, even worse than when they had been