Time passed quickly.
Before long, August of that year had arrived.
During this period, something momentous also happened.
To put things right and address problems at their root, a sweeping crackdown on crime began in one region after another.
Xijing was no exception.
In less than half a month, all the thugs and street loafers had vanished from the streets.
Even the young men who frequented dance halls, video parlors, and skating rinks were frightened out of their wits. They dared not spare a young woman so much as an extra glance and even walked more properly, afraid of being arrested as hooligans.
With the crackdown at its height, anyone who dared break the law faced swift and severe punishment.
Even Lian Youming's father was so busy with it that he was hardly home, morning or night. Sometimes they would not see him for several days.
Night fell.
Lian Youming had just finished cooking, and the family had barely sat down and picked up their chopsticks when the sound of a motorcycle drifted in from outside, finally stopping at their door.
As the headlight shone inside, Lian Youming looked out with his bowl in hand. His father, who had been absent for two or three days, hurriedly dismounted, helped someone out of the sidecar, and strode inside with an exceedingly grave expression.
And who was he supporting?
It was none other than Tian Dayong.
Tian Dayong's face was bloodless, large beads of sweat covered his temples, and his steps were unsteady. He had clearly been injured in a fight.
Zhao Lanxiang hurried over to help as well. "He's hurt. Why didn't you take him to the hospital?"
Father Lian shook his head without speaking. Only after helping Tian Dayong into the guest room did he hurry back out and gulp