Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Once inside, Li Wenbin asked again, "You were clearly looking upstairs—where did that stray cat come from?"

Zhou Xu shrugged indifferently, a smirk on his face. "Yeah, it sprouted wings."

Two officers carrying folders hurried past with a quick greeting, not looking back as they left. The corridor felt empty, its walls painted green halfway up. A slogan was pasted on the bulletin board at the corner. Li Wenbin pushed the door open, still grumbling, "You’re always spouting nonsense… Spit out that gum!"

Zhou Xu was already seated on the sofa. Hearing this, he tugged at one corner of his mouth, pulling it outward. "Wanna take another look?"

"Look at what?"

"An ulcer," Zhou Xu said, releasing his cheek and lazily draping his arm over the backrest. "Can’t I chew a medicated lozenge? Is this how you 'serve the people'?"

His body language was so relaxed, as if he were at home. He didn’t bother watching Li Wenbin’s irritated retreat. A pot of spider plant sat atop the metal filing cabinet, its scraggly vines swaying gently. Zhou Xu crossed his legs and waited. Soon, shouting broke out from outside.

"This isn’t over!"

"Once I’m out, I’ll kill that bastard! Who the hell does he think he is, meddling in other people’s business?!"

At the same time, Li Wenbin’s voice barked like thunder: "Watch your mouths! This is a police station! What the hell are you doing, huh?"

Zhou Xu remained seated on the sofa, unmoved. He even idly picked at the torn seam of the pleather cushion, nearly pulling out the foam stuffing before hastily stuffing it back in before the officers noticed.

By then, the small office was crowded with people. Li Wenbin tugged at his collar. "Let’s mediate first."

Zhou Xu still didn’t react.

The man at the front, his face covered in hardened flesh and a large bruise on his temple, scanned the room before striding straight toward Zhou Xu, pointing a finger. "You’re the kid's guardian—"

Zhou Xu looked up. "Stay there."

The man blinked. "What?"

"I said," Zhou Xu repeated, staring at him, "freeze right there."

Only then did he rise from the sofa, stepping forward until his tall, muscular frame crowded into the other man, forcing him back against the wall. His voice was low and rough. "Who told you to move?"

The room fell dead silent. The tension was so thick that a young officer stepped forward, trying to separate them with a file folder. "Everyone calm down."

"I’m not rash," Zhou Xu said, standing firm. "Follow the procedure. I’m not here to take anyone home today. Clean up your own mess. But—"

He scoffed.

"I’ll pay every cent of the compensation—ask for whatever you want. A few days in detention? Fine. But next time I see you scum, I’ll beat you again. Pay up, serve time—I’ll cover it all."

A sharp crunch sounded—Zhou Xu must have bitten through the hard candy in his mouth.

Wait, no. Medicated lozenges didn’t make that sound. It was definitely hard candy.

*Who eats candy at a police station?!*

Zhou Xu’s gaze finally shifted to a thin teenager standing nearby. The boy kept his head down, his scalp buzzed short, jaw clenched so tight his whole body was stiff as a store dummy. His eyes were frozen until he sensed Zhou Xu’s stare—then he shuddered violently.

*Alive.*

The mediation didn’t take long. The stuffy air in the room made Zhou Xu frown repeatedly. The situation wasn’t complicated. The boy, named A Liang, was an underage helper at Zhou Xu’s shop. Earlier, at the train station, he’d encountered a group of deaf people wearing "Boundless Love" signs around their necks. They tugged at passersby, showing them notebooks filled with names and amounts—five yuan, ten yuan, small donations.

Most travelers, not wanting to delay, dug for small bills.

But A Liang went after them.

During the scuffle, he was surrounded and beaten. Enraged, the boy swung his fists wildly, lunging at the man coldly calling the shots from the back—

Outside the station, under the streetlight, Zhou Xu flicked away his cigarette butt and stubbed it out.

Then he kicked A Liang in the ass.

The boy staggered but steadied himself.

"Not afraid to die, huh? Taking on four at once—big man, aren’t you?"

Another kick.

"And you didn’t even tell me. If Li Wenbin hadn’t called, would you have just sat in there and taken it? You really wanted to be detained, is that it?"

A Liang pressed his lips together, glaring stubbornly at Zhou Xu.

The night was chilly. Somewhere above, a forgotten pair of long underwear slapped against an AC unit, the sound like a whipping top. Eventually, even the wind grew tired, slowing to a gentle caress that rippled across his face like a disturbed spring lake.

Fang Bingxue adjusted his car’s rearview mirror, face unreadable.

But his eyes were ice.

Clearly, Zhou Xu hadn’t been brought in for questioning. Before long, he strutted out of the station, the bruised kid in tow. Fang Bingxue wasn’t going to pry further—he was new on the job and could check tomorrow.

He’d only remembered there was a throw blanket in the car, which he could use to crash on the sofa for the night.

Then he spotted Zhou Xu.

The beating was harsh.

Fang Bingxue’s brow furrowed, his own cheeks flushing hot. He knew the man had a temper, but street fights now?

Pretending to adjust the mirror, he observed discreetly. The spot was dark enough—the overhead light was out, and most of the car was shrouded in darkness.

Until the figures grew larger, stopping right behind him.

Leaving now would look suspicious.

"Hey."

A gruff voice rang out. "What are you doing?"

Fang Bingxue’s fingers paused, unconsciously brushing the top of the mirror frame—spotless, not a speck of dust.

Without turning, he mumbled, "Just a small problem."

"Oh?" Zhou Xu had his hands in his pockets, one elbow casually propped on the hood. "What’s wrong with my car?"

In the brief silence, Fang Bingxue’s Adam’s apple bobbed—

Not from nerves or embarrassment, but a faint competitive urge. His heart even beat faster. Slowly, he turned, peering around Zhou Xu. "Why did you hit him?"

Zhou Xu narrowed his eyes but didn’t answer.

Ignoring Zhou Xu, Fang Bingxue put on a show of concern as he addressed the boy. "Jesus, you need a doctor?"

The young man remained silent, standing there wordlessly.

His scalp was bare, with scabs on his brow and chin. His cotton tee looked like it had been torn, the collar stretched out of shape, revealing massive bruises. The knees of his jeans were worn through, blood-crusted dirt clinging to the frayed edges.

He looked clueless.

Fang Bingxue continued, "Did you get into a fight?"

But the boy didn’t answer, just stared at him intently.

A weird feeling rose in Fang Bingxue’s chest, as if something was about to spill out. He paused, then turned to look at Zhou Xu.

"Yeah," Zhou Xu was watching him too, "A Liang can’t speak. He’s deaf-mute."

Fang Bingxue opened his mouth slightly.

"But he can read some lips and gesture, though he never learned sign language properly as a kid, so it’s all a mess… Got into a fight, so I came to pick him up."

Zhou Xu added, "That’s all there is to it. So don’t look at me like that."

He straightened up, his dark eyes sharp under stubby lashes, "Like I’m some kinda felon…"

Fang Bingxue lowered his head and snorted.

Then he watched as Zhou Xu turned away coldly, jerked his chin at A Liang, and the two mounted a heavy motorcycle parked by the roadside.

Fang Bingxue’s eyes widened. "Huh? Didn’t you say—"

He was referring to the car—why weren’t they driving it?

Zhou Xu threw a leg over the bike, pulling on a pair of riding gloves, his long legs casually planted on the ground. He didn’t even glance over. "Lied to you."

A Liang scrambled up onto the back, securing his helmet and gripping the shiny chrome grips. He cautiously glanced at Fang Bingxue, but before he could react, Zhou Xu cranked the throttle. The engine growled to life, rumbling through the dead-quiet streets of the podunk northwestern town at night.

…Leaving Fang Bingxue with nothing but exhaust and oil fumes.

He gritted his teeth, glaring at the shrinking figures, itching to report them—no helmet, moving violation!

Points off! Ticket 'em!

Mark their records!

The bike sped off so fast that A Liang felt dizzy when they stopped. He removed his helmet, legs like jelly as they entered the hospital lobby. Zhou Xu told him to find a seat while he went to register.

A Liang followed, shaking his head and gesturing.

"Don’t worry," Zhou Xu didn’t pause, "It won’t cost much, and those assholes’ll foot the bill. They’ll get theirs."

But A Liang shook his head urgently.

Late at night, only the emergency room was open, the air reeking faintly of disinfectant. Zhou Xu thanked the nurse, then glanced back. "I know. They did more than just this."

A Liang clamped his mouth shut.

Aside from faking disabilities to panhandle, those people also ran crews to lift wallets. But A Liang’s eyes weren’t cameras—he couldn’t capture evidence. Frustrated and furious, he could only let out strange, garbled shouts.

Passersby steered clear of him.

"I also know you wouldn’t pick a fight for no reason," Zhou Xu said, holding the triage form as they walked toward the ER bay. "So the reason I hit you was because you doubled down against 'em, and…"

Zhou Xu sighed, unable to finish.

He reached out and gave a perfunctory scrub to A Liang’s hair. "Forget it. If it were me, I wouldn’t have backed down either. My fault."

A Liang’s tears plopped down with a soft *plop*, his hands moving in a messy flurry: *You went easy. Didn’t hurt.*

The examination room door closed. The doctor cleaned the wound on his knee, his aged eyes sympathetic. "This’ll bite, but tough it out. It’ll be over soon."

A Liang shook his head silently, but sweat still beaded up on his forehead—he was just a kid, after all.

Zhou Xu leaned against the doorway. "So, wanna shoot the shit to take your mind off it?"

"Bro," A Liang signed, "who was that guy earlier?"

Zhou Xu hesitated, rarely tongue-tied.

Truth was, he didn’t even know the guy’s name.

A Liang formed a circle with his thumb and forefinger, tracing it from his left cheek to his chin, his expression admiring. "He’s hot."

Zhou Xu chuckled. "Oh? Since when did you care about looks? Look at you."

"But who is he, really?"

The scent of alcohol lingered, cool and faint.

Zhou Xu was silent for a moment before suddenly laughing. "No idea… Quit nosin' around, squirt!"

He arched a brow, tone casual.

"Anyway, he’s spoken for."

Author’s Note:

Bro Xu is single. Bro Xu only has one helmet. Bro Xu don't usually ride two-up. If he ever gives Xuebing a ride, he’ll have to buy a new helmet for him.

"Get a pink one!"

"No way. Wear it yourself if you want it!"

And so we’d see Bro Xu wearing a pink helmet, tearing down the road with the cool Xuebing in tow. [Flop-eared bunny emoji]