The more furious he became, the calmer Ning Zhuo grew.
Ning Zhuo, with his back facing him, knowingly asked, “Who is it?”
Shan Feibai pressed against his joints. His chest—now much stronger than it had been in childhood—radiated heat against Ning Zhuo’s back. His intention was to stay close, not leaving him any room to counterattack.
After Ning Zhuo said that one sentence, Shan Feibai clearly felt his body stiffen and his breathing quicken.
The once steady heartbeat now pounded against Ning Zhuo’s spine, making his back ache.
After so many years, Ning Zhuo still knew this little brat’s weak spots.
Without mercy, he stomped on them, twisting his foot harshly. But in doing so, his old bitterness resurfaced.
After a while, the cold, hard gun strap hooked around his neck from behind, wrapping around once.
Once another layer of restraint and fixation was completed, Shan Feibai finally spoke: “Ning-ge, you really are someone who forgets so easily.”
…His voice clearly didn’t sound as enthusiastic as before.
His displeasure gave Ning Zhuo a strange satisfaction in the midst of his bitterness.
Ning Zhuo let out an “Oh,” as if he had just found someone hidden in the corners of his memory: “It’s you. Xiao Bai.”
Shan Feibai rested his forehead on the back of his neck, naturally smelling the faint, slightly bitter scent of mint oil from his nape. “Hmm.”
If it weren’t for the burning pain in his waist from the gunfire and the gun strap around his neck, this would have been quite a warm reunion after a long time.
Ning Zhuo felt a tingling sensation on his scalp. “Being this close, afraid I’ll make a move? You’ve grown so tall, and yet this is all the courage you’ve got?”
Shan Feibai remained unfazed: “It’s not that I’m timid, it’s just that I know Ning-ge’s skills.”
By maintaining such a shadow-like distance, he could react to any slight movement Ning Zhuo made.
Yet Ning Zhuo was still confident he could escape.
Even if he sacrificed one hand, he had over a 70% chance of breaking free from Shan Feibai’s control.
But he was still in Shan Feibai’s hands.
If he escaped alone, it wouldn’t change anything.
Ning Zhuo’s face remained calm, but inside, his heart was burning with rage: “Did that old bastard Hinata buy you to kill me?”
Shan Feibai thought for a moment: “Hmm… something like that.”
Ning Zhuo, laughing grimly with a hint of malice in his voice, asked, “Afraid to admit it? How much did he pay to buy your conscience?”
Shan Feibai’s body temperature was still shockingly high, his skin scorching Ning Zhuo’s, the heat seeping into his heart.
Shan Feibai said, “Not much, one hundred and eighty thousand.”
That number enraged Ning Zhuo.
He was convinced this was a carefully planned revenge.
Revenge from Hinata Ken, and revenge from Shan Feibai!
Ning Zhuo’s fury burned through his ribs.
He couldn’t understand.
So he struggled, twisting his body, wanting to turn around and look at Shan Feibai.
Even if it meant losing this arm, he wanted to see what expression Shan Feibai had now.
What kind of look he had when gazing at him.
Would he feel guilty, hate him, or find satisfaction? Or would he still look at him the same way he had all those years ago—
That obedient, pretending-to-be-good kid, standing in front of him, eyes clear and bright, saying he wanted to give him a flower.
But Shan Feibai didn’t allow him to look.
He firmly controlled Ning Zhuo’s joints, pulling them backward.
The bones creaked under the pressure, and the joints faintly emitted a pale hue.
Ning Zhuo coldly remarked, “You’ve got quite the grip.”
Ning Zhuo, by nature, had a bit of recklessness when it came to himself.
His body was already a pile of wreckage, so what did it matter if it got a little worse?
However, Shan Feibai seemed to quickly sense his resolve. He lifted his toe and playfully stepped on Ning Zhuo’s calf, applying pressure and directly reducing half of his strength.
—If Ning Zhuo didn’t want to be forced to kneel, he would have to split his strength to resist, leaving him unable to attempt another escape.
Clearly, Shan Feibai wouldn’t allow him to leave, nor would he allow him to break himself.
The scene from their training together five years ago overlapped eerily with the present.
Unable to escape, Ning Zhuo bit down so hard he almost drew blood.
He was used to betrayal, used to seeing kindness repaid with treachery, but Shan Feibai was different from the others.
He couldn’t say exactly what was different, but he refused to believe his judgment had been so wrong.
“Ning-ge, don’t move,” Shan Feibai whispered, his voice carrying a barely concealed and controlled emotion, “My employer told me to leave a hole in you, not to do anything else.”
Ning Zhuo fell silent.
The night wind rustled his clothes, and Ning Zhuo realized that his intense struggle had left him drenched in sweat.
But hearing Shan Feibai’s words, confirming that he had come specifically for him, Ning Zhuo actually felt a little relieved.
He said, “Do what you want, just don’t touch my people.”
Shan Feibai remained silent.
When he spoke again, there was a hint of bitterness and resentment in his voice: “Why didn’t Ning-ge say that to my father back then?”
Ning Zhuo shot back sarcastically, “Why should I have treated a pampered young master with no backbone like one of my own?”
Shan Feibai chuckled lightly, “Ning-ge, that’s why I’m not a pampered young master anymore. Now, I’m someone just like you.”
With that, a chill pressed against Ning Zhuo’s back.
The sharp edge grazed his skin, slowly moving upward.
Finally, the cold blade rested on the scar tissue that had formed over a wound on Ning Zhuo’s shoulder, like a butterfly landing there, causing a faint itch.
Ning Zhuo faintly sensed an ominous feeling growing within him.
“Ning-ge, those words you said to me before you left, I’ve thought them over again and again, for years, but I still can’t accept them.”
As he spoke, Shan Feibai lowered his head, noticing Ning Zhuo’s gloved left hand, his eyes falling with a trace of disappointment.
“I always felt like the bite back then wasn’t deep enough. You must have healed completely by now. Sister Min Min is really skilled, I know that.”
Ning Zhuo clenched his left hand into a fist.
The bite mark around his ring finger pulsed with pain, tightening and loosening intermittently.
Gritting his teeth, Ning Zhuo growled, “You dare—”
Shan Feibai dared.
Because in the next second, that dagger was cleanly and swiftly thrust in.
A line of blood broke open the old scar, spraying out.
With the proximity being so close, his own blood inevitably splattered all over Shan Feibai’s face and head.
Ning Zhuo didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t stop himself from imagining how that young, handsome face was now looking at him. What kind of expression did he have now?
Ning Zhuo shuddered violently from the sharp pain, trembling uncontrollably.
He lowered his head, seeing the blood-stained tip of the blade sticking out from his shoulder.
Forcing a hoarse voice filled with hatred from his chest, he rasped, “Shan Feibai, well done!”
Surprisingly, Shan Feibai began to soothe him. “Ge, don’t get mad. Take a moment, think it over carefully. Who really sent me to kill you? The more you think, the less it’ll hurt.”
Blood dripped continuously from the blade, seeping from both Ning Zhuo’s chest and back.
Rage wasn’t suitable for Ning Zhuo, who was now losing blood.
His head spun, each breath becoming more labored, and his curly black hair, drenched with sweat, curled even tighter.
The blood from the bullet graze on his waist made his clothes stick to his body, adding an extra layer of suffocating restriction. Ning Zhuo felt as if he could no longer breathe.
He wasn’t sure if it was a hallucination, but Ning Zhuo noticed Shan Feibai had been silent for some time.
His breathing had become strangely quick and heavy, almost matching Ning Zhuo’s, as his breath softly brushed against Ning Zhuo’s ear, making the tips burn.
As he leaned slightly backward from the dizziness, Ning Zhuo felt something press lightly against his lower back.
His waist was sensitive, and with this burning touch, he instantly understood what had happened.
Ning Zhuo had already been infuriated all night, and this unexpected turn of events added a layer of absurdity to the blood-soaked revenge and ambush.
He didn’t believe he was being lusted after.
He was covered in blood, filthy, half-kneeling but not fully on his knees, stripped of his dignity, held in the jaws of the very pup he had once carefully raised.
Ning Zhuo interpreted this as a kind of conquest, a twisted satisfaction.
Shan Feibai’s voice sounded from behind him, filled with confusion and bewilderment.
Softly, he asked, “Ning-ge? What’s happening to me?”
Ning Zhuo took this as a clear provocation, an absolute challenge.
Ning Zhuo rasped out, “…Is it a nice view?”
Sparks sizzled and spread from the tips of his nerves, scattering in all directions.
Hoarsely, Ning Zhuo forced out words, using the last of his strength to grab Shan Feibai’s clothing behind him, staining it with his own blood. “Shan, when you shot me before, you didn’t lose control like this—”
Before he could finish his sentence, the gun strap around his neck roughly scraped across him.
The next instant, Shan Feibai struck Ning Zhuo cleanly and decisively on the temple with the butt of his gun.
Ning Zhuo wasn’t someone who would easily lose consciousness.
Even as his vision dimmed, he felt Shan Feibai crouch down beside him, cradling his left hand, trying to pull off his glove.
Ning Zhuo’s heart tightened as he tried to grip his fist, desperately trying to hold on to the last shred of his dignity.
But with his shoulder pierced, he could no longer move smoothly.
The glove was peeled away inch by inch.
In the final moments of his consciousness, Ning Zhuo heard Shan Feibai let out a soft sigh, “Ning-ge…”
…
Three days later, Ning Zhuo slowly parked an unmarked pickup truck outside a café.
His shoulder was still wrapped in thick white bandages, and even the slightest movement brought unbearable pain.
Ning Zhuo had refused to let Min Min treat his wounds.
He wanted to feel the pain, so he could think clearly about some things, make certain decisions.
Seated beside him was Jin Xueshen.
Jin Xueshen was an intelligence analyst for “Haina,” picked up by Boss Fu, and he followed Boss Fu’s orders without question.
But Boss Fu wasn’t one for giving many orders; he simply lived his carefree life, only telling Jin Xueshen to listen to Ning Zhuo.
Because of that, Jin Xueshen wasn’t fully obedient to Ning Zhuo, always showing a strange stubbornness and toughness, speaking in a cold, arrogant tone.
He rigidly reasoned with Ning Zhuo.
“You burned down Hinata Ken’s ‘Dionysus World,’ and he put a hit on you. The situation seems simple. But the biggest issue is, no one dared to take the hit on you.”
“The other major companies, I haven’t fully investigated yet, but the Deputy Director of Intelligence at Interest Corporation and a mercenary group called ‘Rousseau’ under Ruiteng Company have traces in their emails and communication records showing that they’ve been monitoring ‘Haina’—only under code names, but I managed to decipher them.”
“If no one has taken the contract to kill you, it means that your position in the underground world of Silver Hammer City has become unshakable. …But you don’t even know those big companies, nor have you ever tried to win their favor.”
“If no one kills you, someone will eventually. You understand what I mean?”
Ning Zhuo wasn’t paying attention to him.
He only stared at Shan Feibai inside the café in the distance.
The café belonged to the Shan family, and now Shan Feibai and his new organization—rumored to be called “Panqiao”—had rented the whole place.
Shan Feibai hadn’t noticed Ning Zhuo’s gaze at all. He was leaning his head to the side, laughing and chatting with the people next to him.
A few seconds later, Shan Feibai laughed out loud, as if he had heard a joke.
Sunlight fell on his face, giving him a transparent energy and vitality, with no intention of hiding his sharpness or keeping a low profile.
Ning Zhuo asked, “Are you saying he saved my life? I should thank him?”
Jin Xueshen rubbed his temples. “Don’t twist my words like that. He definitely had his own selfish motives.”
He took a deep breath. “‘Panqiao’ dared to take the hit to kill you. This new mercenary group could build their entire reputation on this one mission. But you need to keep in mind: he didn’t actually kill you.”
Ning Zhuo asked back, “I saved him before, and the other day, he didn’t kill me. Is that a fair trade?”
Jin Xueshen adjusted his glasses and patiently reasoned with him. “Anyone with sense knows what Hinata Ken’s order meant. ‘Make a hole in him,’ and that hole should have been in your head or left chest—killing you would have solved everything. But Shan Feibai only stabbed you in the shoulder—”
Ning Zhuo countered, “So you’re saying I should feel lucky?”
Jin Xueshen was so infuriated that he nearly staggered backward. “You’re impossible to reason with!”
“Impossible to reason with…” Ning Zhuo repeated, “Impossible to reason with?”
Once again, he looked at the vibrant young man in the distance.
This was the first time he had seen Shan Feibai in years.
He understood what Jin Xueshen was saying.
Ning Zhuo understood all the logic.
When Shan Feibai surrounded him but didn’t kill him, when he ambiguously referred to the employer as “the client,” and when he only stabbed him in the shoulder, Ning Zhuo had already guessed who had sent him.
With that thought, Ning Zhuo reached for his lower back.
The burning sensation from that humiliating touch was still there, as if it had branded him with an invisible mark of shame.
Ning Zhuo softly muttered, “He’s really grown.”
In the next moment, he floored the gas pedal.
The sharp screech of tires skidding across the ground made Jin Xueshen’s scalp tingle. “You—”
Ning Zhuo gripped the leather steering wheel tightly, his knuckles pressing into it. “Hold on. Grab the handle.”
He aimed straight at Shan Feibai and charged forward.
His truck, cloaked in optical camouflage, blended seamlessly with the trees and buildings, all leading up to this moment.
At that instant, the roar of the engine thundered like a storm.
The deafening noise finally caught Shan Feibai’s attention.
As he turned around, the café windows shattered, sending shards of glass flying everywhere like rain, cutting deep scratches across his face.
Shan Feibai reacted quickly, stepping onto the coffee table to evade the oncoming truck.
Normally, a driver seeing a wall ahead would instinctively slow down.
But Ning Zhuo didn’t. He kept his eyes locked forward, feet firmly pressing the gas pedal to the floor.
Just as Shan Feibai was about to leap away, the coffee table under his feet disintegrated from the impact of the truck.
With his point of leverage gone, Shan Feibai slipped, slamming into the windshield before being flung into the wall from the momentum.
One of his legs collided with a mounted antler decoration on the wall, and a crisp snapping sound echoed.
Ning Zhuo had come solely for Shan Feibai.
His lackeys had avoided the initial impact, but when they snapped back to reality and saw their boss severely injured, they turned red-eyed and charged at Ning Zhuo in a rage.
Ning Zhuo kicked open the wrecked truck door, his face expressionless, and from his sleeves, he flicked out two Rambo knives, designed for close combat.
Jin Xueshen, still in shock, scrambled out of the passenger seat. He pressed a button on his waist, and a gold-red micro plasma bow, over a meter long, shot into the air.
He grabbed the bow and expertly twisted it with the bowstring, knocking someone unconscious.
Seeing seven or eight burly men charging toward him, he cursed at Ning Zhuo, “Ning! Are you f*cking trying to get me killed?!”
Ning Zhuo nodded slightly, using the back of his knife to slam into someone’s face, calmly issuing an order, “Run.”
Jin Xueshen, who had been bracing for a life-or-death battle, was stunned. “Huh?!”
Ning Zhuo nodded at him from a distance. “Isn’t this unreasonable enough?”
Jin Xueshen froze for a moment before finally realizing what was happening, his scholar-like face turning bright red with anger. “Why are you so petty?!”
For the past three days, Ning Zhuo had been holding onto a heavy burden in his chest, and finally, he felt a sense of release.
He turned his head slightly and saw Shan Feibai, half-crippled from the crash, lying on the ground.
Shan Feibai was quietly watching him, eyes unwavering, his gaze intense, as if he were looking up to a powerful, admirable figure.
Just like when he was a child.
Ning Zhuo frowned slightly.
He was witnessing something truly irrational and incomprehensible.
Why was Shan Feibai still looking at him like that?
…Had he looked at him like this when he stabbed the knife into his body?
—
Author’s Note:
Shan Feibai: He crashed straight into… well, into my café.
