The first light of dawn had barely touched the sky when Xia Liuyi was woken by the chaotic pounding on the door and the shouting downstairs.
“Open the door! Goddammit! Open it now!”
He sat up alertly, only to find himself covered by a damp, clammy sheet. He Chusan was leaning against the shoulder that hadn’t been injured, sleeping like a damn angel—or maybe a demon. One clawed hand snaked around his waist from behind, while the other pressed against his chest. Through his thin vest, the tips of He Chusan’s fingers were pinching his nipples.
As mentioned before, this area of Xia Liuyi’s body was extremely sensitive. His face immediately turned crimson, and with a furious yell, he slapped the little bastard away.
“Fuck! What’s this, trying to look for your mother?!”
He Chusan, dazed and tangled in the sheet, scrambled to his feet. His eyes were half-closed, still mid-yawn, when Xia Liuyi kicked him lightly. Xia Liuyi lifted his chin toward the chaos outside.
He Chusan quickly regained his balance, clinging to the stone railing to peek down. Then his face turned pale as a sheet.
“Brother Liuyi, they’re searching every house for you!”
“Honored bosses! The one living upstairs is my son—there’s no one else!”Dentist He’s voice carried up from below, fawning and tense.
“Dad…” He Chusan whispered softly, trying to straighten up, but Xia Liuyi grabbed him and pulled him back.
Covering his mouth tightly, Xia Liuyi shook his head, eyes sharp and cold. He Chusan was hugged close, almost face to face with him. In such critical moments, no one gave a damn about intimacy; both held their breath, straining to listen to the sounds below.
Thumps and crashes rang out downstairs for some time. Not just Dentist He’s clinic, but several small eateries nearby were being searched. A fat lady shrieked, “My beef stew pot!”
A moment later, Dentist He’s pleading voice came again: ““I told you, didn’t I, bosses! There’s really no one being hidden here. My son’s gone out to school! Yes, yes—he’s that college student! Ah! The boy’s so studious you can’t even drag him away! I’ve prepared a little token for your trouble—may you all rise higher and higher, bosses, rise to great heights!”
He Chusan exhaled in relief. Luckily, the room was narrow and poorly ventilated. Every day he had meticulously cleaned, burning the bloody bandages Xia Liuyi had used and taking the ashes to school to dispose of them. The night before, he had tidied the books and candles, rolling up the floor bedding so nothing suspicious remained.
Yet anxiety returned. He whispered to Xia Liuyi, “Do you think they’ll come up?”
“Shh.” Xia Liuyi frowned, listening.
At that moment, footsteps suddenly echoed from the staircase, and a voice shouted, “Xia Liuyi?”
He Chusan’s hair stood on end. A few meters away, a man in ragged shorts appeared, hair in disarray, holding a battered basin—clearly here to collect sheets.
The two stared at each other. Xia Liuyi instantly recognized the man when he let out a roar: one of Boss Sha’s lackeys he had cleared out months ago. Snatching up a bamboo pole from the laundry rack, the lackey lunged straight at the two of them!
He Chusan’s eyes widened as the pointed bamboo shot toward his chest. Everything blurred—but Xia Liuyi shoved him aside with brutal force.
A wet, tearing sound cut through the air—the bamboo impaled Xia Liuyi’s old shoulder wound, blood soaking the bandages. He grasped the pole with both hands, straining to resist its penetration, but weakened by injury, he could barely hold it. The pole kept inching deeper…
He Chusan swung his oversized schoolbag, smashing it onto the lackey’s head!
The lackey screamed, then let go. The bamboo ripped through Xia Liuyi’s shoulder, sending a spray of blood into the air as it flew off. Holding his head, the lackey groaned; a trickle of blood ran down his forehead, eyes burning with murderous intent.
He swung a punch at He Chusan, staggering him, then unleashed a relentless flurry of fists and kicks. He Chusan, nearly defenseless, could only shield his head and take the blows. Xia Liuyi, bloodied, tried to rise but couldn’t, struggling to reach the bamboo. In moments, He Chusan was beaten to the ground.
Blows landed repeatedly on his stomach and head, curling him up, coughing violently. Despite the pain, his mind cleared. He gritted his teeth, rose, and faced another incoming kick. With full force, he assumed the horse stance he had practiced every morning.
At that instant, the figure of Uncle Ah Hua—the fourth-generation inheritor of Yang-style Taijiquan—flashed through his mind—short, stocky, serene—pushing palms, delivering punches, sweeping legs. He Chusan felt possessed by a war god. Eyes closed, he caught the lackey’s kick in a twisted yet precise posture, clasped the foot, pulled, and thrust it away.
“Ahhh!” The lackey screamed as he flew through the air, landing hard on the floor. The fragile floorboards rattled from the impact. Dizzy and disoriented, he tried to rise again, fists swinging. He Chusan rolled aside; the lackey slipped and fell, sprawling once more.
This time he couldn’t get up. He looked down at his abdomen in horror, screaming, “Aaaahhhhh—!!”
A straight iron spike had pierced his gut. Blood sprayed like a fountain with his agonized roar.
He Chusan sank to the ground, pale and frozen. Xia Liuyi barked sharply, “Stop staring! Move!”
The Cavalry Hall below had already heard the commotion and charged up the stairs. He Chusan snapped out of his daze, grabbed Xia Liuyi, and hoisted him on his back, along with his bloodied schoolbag.
“No way down the stairs,” He Chusan asked, panic rising. “What now?!”
Xia Liuyi whipped his head toward the edge outside. “Jump!”
He Chusan’s jaw dropped before he could even pick it up. Xia Liuyi grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him toward the ledge. He braced himself on the stone, peering down as He Chusan trembled.
The neighboring window was only a meter or two away, yet both buildings were slick with greasy rain and dirt. Below was a ten-meter drop, pedestrians’ heads visible.
He Chusan’s legs buckled, retreating.
“Jump by yourself, or should I throw you?” Xia Liuyi panted, blood loss making his head swim.
Swallowing hard, He Chusan murmured, “By… myself…” He slowly leaned out—and Xia Liuyi shoved him.
With a crash, He Chusan tumbled through a paper-covered window, shattering the last shards of old glass. Inside, a frail old man woke, screaming hoarsely at the dark shadow, swinging a feather duster at He Chusan.
He Chusan blocked a few strikes, scrambled to the window, just as Xia Liuyi rolled in, landing in his arms. They tumbled together, battered by the old man’s flurry. Finally, Xia Liuyi, pinned beneath He Chusan’s protection, let out a roar, veins bulging, “Stop!”
The old man froze. He Chusan rolled, grabbed Xia Liuyi, and bolted.
They slammed open a rusted door, thudding down the stairs. Just short of the stairwell’s end, Xia Liuyi’s legs gave way—he fell.
He Chusan fell to the floor, groping for him, hands finding only sticky blood. He heard Xia Liuyi’s weak gasps.
“Brother Liuyi?”
Xia Liuyi tried to speak but darkness swallowed his vision. Straining with his last strength, he tried to rise, but finally bowed his head in defeat.
…
In the swaying darkness, the wind whistled sharply. Heavy breaths drew closer.
Xia Liuyi groggily opened his eyes. In the dimness, all he saw was He Chusan’s dark back of the head.
The jolting motion of their descent tugged at the shoulder wound. He gritted his teeth, breathing heavy, and heard He Chusan gasp, “Brother Liuyi! Whew! Awake? Haha!”
He Chusan, exhausted from carrying the long-limbed man, panted heavily, “If you’re awake, don’t sleep! Be careful, haha! Don’t sleep dead!”
“Goddammit, stop cursing me,” Xia Liuyi muttered.
“Phew!” He Chusan said, “If you want to sleep, haha, just talk to me…”
“What do you want to say?”
“Hah! Just now you shoved me—hah!—and he stabbed me.” Once again, he’d risked his life to save him; this time there was no misunderstanding!
Xia Liuyi closed his eyes, exhausted, and murmured, “You took me in… that makes me your man, taking care of a brother is my… responsibility…”
“I’m not your man… hah!” He Chusan immediately drew the line, “I won’t join the underworld… hah!”
“…”
Xia Liuyi forced a breath and smacked him across the head. Damn it! Even a lowly lackey begging on his knees wouldn’t get this kind of favor from him! After all this time, he’d finally decided the kid was tolerable enough to relax his conditions—and the brat still complains?! Goddamn, talking all puffed-up like a wild dog possessed!
He Chusan figured that if the kid still had the strength to hit someone, he probably wasn’t going to die. So he huffed and puffed, running with even more effort. Fortunately, months of daily morning horse-stance training had strengthened his legs, waist, and stamina. He stumbled through three alleyways but never dropped Xia Liuyi.
Eventually, he could run no more. Ducking into a deserted side corridor, he stepped over dead rats and crawled to a corner on the second floor, panting as he set Xia Liuyi down.
“Here… hah…we shouldn’t be found for now… hah…” he said, straightening his back and massaging his twisted spine.
Xia Liuyi leaned against the filthy wall, lifting his gaze to the taller silhouette. He frowned suddenly. “Have you… grown taller?”
It seemed he was taller than when he was first dragged in to write the movie script, and stronger too—not that scrawny chicken-legged kid anymore.
He Chusan shifted the small backpack from chest to back, swallowed, and replied, “Father… hah, said I was still young… still growing. Maybe next year I’ll be taller than you.”
A little runt—twenty-one and still spry, and he’s still growing! Xia Liuyi exhaled through his nose, too tired to curse a full sentence, and simply said, “Take off the clothes. Let’s stop the bleeding.”
He Chusan pondered. “…Take whose off?”
“Both of us!”
Following Xia Liuyi’s instructions, he stripped Xia Liuyi’s blood-soaked vest and tossed it aside, then tore his own shirt into strips to bandage the wounds. Xia Liuyi grimaced at his clumsy medical skills while scheming. In the end, he said, “Hiding like this won’t work. Go do something for me.”
“As long as it’s not illegal, I’ll help. But I’m not your man.”
“Shut up!”
What’s wrong with being my man?!
That evening, Xu Ying’s lackeys caught He Chusan sneaking around the old stone walls of Jiaolong Walled City, trying to toss out a bag of bloodied clothes.
…
Xia Liuyi, breathing heavily and clutching his wounded right shoulder, edged toward the rear gate of Xiaoqi Film Company.
He bent down, fumbling among the water pipes until he found a bundle of spare keys wrapped in oiled paper. Quietly, he unlocked the door.
It was deep night; the alleyways were deserted except for him. Rats scuttled past his feet, utterly unafraid.
He slipped inside, ears pricked for sound, approaching the studio with utmost caution. Perhaps someone had searched it earlier, for the studio door wasn’t shut. He crept to a corner table—He Chusan had just finished the script there.
Opening a drawer, he retrieved a box of matches and a thick candle used for rituals to Second Master Guan. Half-kneeling, he lit the candle and placed it on the floor, illuminating a small, nondescript bookshelf.
Using the spare key, he opened the bookshelf to reveal a finely crafted safe. Carefully glancing around, he approached and began turning the combination lock. After a soft click, the safe opened, revealing a paper bundle.
Suddenly, a derisive laugh rang out. A man’s mocking voice said, “Qinglong really did hide the ‘ledger’ with you.”
With a crash! crash! all the overhead lights ignited, illuminating the studio. Xia Liuyi’s brow furrowed as Xu Ying, smug, stood in the doorway, followed by several lackeys—and finally, He Chusan, shoved in at gunpoint.
“Sending a student to toss the bloodied clothes… so I’d think you’d left the city?” Xu Ying sneered. “Xia Xiao Liu, you’re really this dumb?”
He Chusan, pale and terrified, looked at Xia Liuyi with guilt and despair. Xia Liuyi cursed inwardly—this kid’s a born actor, could win a Golden Horse Award with that performance.
Grasping the paper bundle, he propped himself on the table and spoke—not to Xu Ying, but to He Chusan. “Who hit you?”
The swelling on He Chusan’s head screamed “I got hit,” and he answered honestly, “The one with the scar on his nose.”
Xia Liuyi glanced at Xu Ying’s lackey. “Boss will settle it for you.”
He Chusan opened his mouth to protest he wasn’t Xia Liuyi’s man, but a fierce glare shut him up. Xu Ying chuckled, “Come on, Xia Xiao Liu. You can’t even stand straight, playing boss? Hand over the ‘ledger’!”
Xia Liuyi’s cold gaze met Xu Ying’s. Slowly, he placed the paper bundle on the table—pushing it forward, not throwing it.
Xu Ying frowned. “What’s wrong? No guts to grab it?”
“You’re full of tricks; I have no interest in playing your game,” Xu Ying replied, shrugging.
The scar-faced lackey stepped up, grabbed the paper bundle, and tossed it to Xu Ying. Then he pressed Xia Liuyi onto the table, cuffing his hands behind him. “Nothing hidden, boss.”
Xia Liuyi snorted. “My ‘gear’ is never hidden, unlike you, boss—no ‘gear’ at all.”
Xu Ying raised an eyebrow. The lackey slapped Xia Liuyi; blood spattered from his mouth. Xia Liuyi turned, smirking coldly.
As Xu Ying opened the bundle, he advanced. “Xia Xiao Liu, watch your mouth. Say something nice, and I might leave you alive… what the hell?!”
He slammed the thick scripts onto the table; He Chusan’s neat calligraphy spread across the surface.
“Oh? Switched them?” Xia Liuyi raised an eyebrow. “Boss, this wasn’t me.”
“Damn it! Don’t play games with me!” Xu Ying stormed forward, yanking Xia Liuyi by the hair. “Where’s the ‘ledger’?”
Xia Liuyi smiled faintly. “Boss Xu, you killed Qinglong, yet you can’t find the crucial ‘ledger.’ With the Dragon Head Staff missing, the elders won’t vote you as new Dragon Head?”
Xu Ying sneered, gripping Xia Liuyi’s throat. “Shut your mouth! I caught this traitor, gained merit, and took over all territory. Those old bastards have no choice but to recognize me!”
Xia Liuyi, flushed red, gasping, said, “That… isn’t certain!”
With a sudden sweep, he kicked the burning candle at Xu Ying’s feet. Fire licked Xu Ying’s calf; he jumped and stomped it out. In that instant, Xia Liuyi rolled and struck Xu Ying’s jaw with his left fist!
He grabbed a chair, smashing a nearby lackey; the chair splintered. He snatched a sharp leg fragment and stabbed it into the lackey’s hand—revenge for He Chusan.
The lackey screamed, clutching the bloody hand.
Xu Ying lunged from behind, aiming at Xia Liuyi’s shoulders. Xia Liuyi blocked with his arms but was caught; the chair leg fell. He swept with a kick; Xu Ying let go just in time, and with a shout formed a double-claw strike, “Twin Dragons Draw Water,” toward Xia Liuyi’s chest.
Familiar with his style, Xia Liuyi blocked instinctively. The sudden motion tore his injured shoulder; he groaned, parrying one strike, only to be slammed in the chest and thrown to the ground!
Xu Ying lunged again; Xia Liuyi dodged, countering with a punch. They rolled across the floor in a blur. Yet his injuries slowed him; after ten blows, he was pinned.
“Xia Xiao Liu,” Xu Ying panted, “this style of yours—I taught you! And this is how you repay me?”
Pinned, Xia Liuyi listened, hoarse. “Qinglong treated you well… is this your thanks?”
“Qinglong treated me well? Hah! Hahaha! I served him twenty years, through fire and water, and in the end… everything went to you, some pampered pretty boy! What the fuck, deputy hall master? A dog under his feet! Did he ever look at me properly? Do you know what he told the elders? ‘Xia Liuyi is young but cunning and brave, of great use.’ ‘Xu Ying is too crafty; cannot be trusted.’”
“He trusted you wrongly!” Xia Liuyi barked. “Xu Ying! You think you can deceive everyone? When I left the villa and entered the hospital, I had no Qinglong twin blades! The butler and servants at the villa, and the Xiaoqi brothers at the hospital, can all vouch!”
“The butler? Servants?” Xu Ying sneered. “That night, they were all ‘killed’ by the insane Xia Liuyi who saw his sister’s corpse, and the house burned! At the hospital, it was either my men or yours; who do you think anyone will believe?”
“You…” Xia Liuyi could scarcely believe he’d killed everyone in Qinglong’s household. Teeth clenched, he growled, “Xu Ying, even in the underworld, there’s honor. Scum like you will die badly.”
Xu Ying laughed, pressing Xia Liuyi’s face down. Smirking, he whispered, “They say Qinglong was honorable… did he die honorably?”
Close to Xia Liuyi’s ear, he taunted, “Do you know what he said when I raised your blade to enter? ‘Xiao Liu, it’s my fault, don’t blame yourself.’ Hah! Hahaha!”
Xu Ying’s laughter rang out; Xia Liuyi froze a moment, then let out a hoarse roar, twisting his injured shoulder to strike Xu Ying with a palm!
Xu Ying, caught mid-laugh, was hit squarely. Five bruising finger-marks blossomed on his face. His eyes darkened; he drew a gun, pressing it to Xia Liuyi’s head.
“I’ve changed my mind, Xia Xiao Liu. I won’t leave you intact—every inch of these stinking, stiff bones will be crushed!”
“Kill that bastard first, to set an example!” he bellowed at the lackey restraining He Chusan.
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