Chapter 19: Uncle Yong's Honor

Suddenly, a gasp came from behind me. I turned around to see Chen Jianjun standing in the doorway, staring at me with an expression of utter disbelief. Upon catching sight of Xiaowen, his face flushed a deep red again. Marveling at the speed with which his facial expressions shifted, I quickly stepped out of the room.

"Cousin, what happened to your head? Did a donkey kick you? No, wait! How, how on earth did you manage to hook up with her?!" he asked.

"What do you mean, 'hook up'? I just nearly gave myself to her a moment ago," I replied.

"Impressive. It only took you half a day? But really, what happened to your head?" Chen Jianjun asked with concern.

"I got into a fight because of her. With a bunch of thugs. Apparently, the leader is called Da Hua," I said.

"Da Hua? Those Hubei guys..." Chen Jianjun’s face went pale instantly. After a moment of rapid deliberation, he seemed to have made a difficult decision. "Cousin, I have a bit of pull around here, but I can't cover for you on this one. Pack your things and get ready to run. Da Hua is ruthless."

I shook my head.

Just then, Xiaowen walked out and asked, "Running away?"

Perhaps wanting to show off his bravado in front of a beauty, Chen Jianjun patted my shoulder and said, "Da Hua? Is he that big of a deal? Let's just fight! We’ve all got one head on our shoulders; it’s not like anyone has an extra life. I’ve got your back on this."

Xiaowen smiled but said nothing.

I asked Chen Jianjun why he had returned so early; shouldn't he have been out drinking at this hour?

"We finished dinner, but the guys weren't satisfied yet. They wanted to grab some barbecue and keep drinking. Since I’m paying, I thought I’d come back to get you. You can't be too antisocial, you know. Besides, if a real fight breaks out with Da Hua, how are you going to manage without a few brothers to back you up?" Chen Jianjun said.

"Alright then, let's go," I said.

"Why don't you invite me too?" Xiaowen asked with a smile.

Chen Jianjun froze instantly. "You... you want to come too?"

"Sure. But let me change my clothes first," Xiaowen said, before ducking back into her room.

Chen Jianjun was in a state of frenzy, incessantly questioning how I had managed to pull this off. Did a single fight really capture a beauty's heart? Do strong men get priority mating rights? Chen Jianjun didn't believe it. He had seen many thugs get into brawls over Xiaowen. Word was that several managers at her workplace had caused trouble over her, and some thugs had even tried using underhanded tactics, only to be silenced by Uncle Yong’s single declaration: "Xiaowen is my goddaughter."

Uncle Yong’s stance intimidated the petty criminals, but it simultaneously made Xiaowen even more sought after. If she was Uncle Yong's goddaughter, wouldn't marrying her make you half a son-in-law to him? Consequently, the number of people pursuing her increased rather than decreased, including several small business owners and locals.

What Chen Jianjun couldn't understand was that Xiaowen could have easily stepped into a life of luxury as a wealthy wife, yet she chose to remain a humble clerk, living in this cheap rental, going to Uncle Yong's place across the hall for meals every day after work. Her spare time was spent either tucked away in her room or reading on the rooftop. She had little social life and few friends.

Chen Jianjun called this her "ethereal aura." His saying that "this girl belongs in the heavens" referred not just to her looks, but to her detached and serene temperament.

Now that I had not only entered her private quarters but had also convinced her to join us for drinks, how could my cousin, who had coveted her beauty for so long, not be shocked?

"You didn't drug her, did you?" Chen Jianjun concluded finally.

"No," I shook my head. Dare to drug her? I’d probably have my throat slit before I could even knock her out.

I walked over to the coal pile, picked up a piece, and drew two hands next to the thief’s mark by Xiaowen’s door.

"What is that for?" Xiaowen asked as she walked out, now changed.

"Telling the thief that we’ve spotted his mark, and asking him to show some mercy and back off," I laughed.

Xiaowen smiled faintly and said nothing.

The three of us headed out. When my cousin’s friends saw Xiaowen with us, their surprise was no less than his had been. My cousin clearly enjoyed the feeling. With a grand wave of his hand, he declared, "Let’s go! Old Hai’s place. Order whatever you want—it’s on me tonight!"

However, what happened next left my cousin even more stunned and flattered. Just as we were about to leave, Uncle Yong stepped out, waving his tattered paper fan. "A group of young people going out for a drink? Can an old man tag along?"

Chen Jianjun’s blood rushed to his head, his face turning bright red. He stammered, "Uncle Yong wants to come? Should we get a private room at a restaurant?"

Uncle Yong shook his head with a smile. "I just can't sleep and wanted to join the fun. The place doesn't matter. Let's go to Old Hai’s. Why not sit there?"

Uncle Yong’s word was final. He followed behind us. My cousin was practically walking on air. His friends were so nervous they didn't dare speak loudly, and none dared to sit until Uncle Yong did.

Finally, Uncle Yong pulled up a chair and sat down casually, gesturing for everyone else. "Sit, sit! Are you all uncomfortable because of an old man? If I’d known, I wouldn't have come!"

Everyone hurried to take their seats. Xiaowen naturally sat to Uncle Yong’s left. Just as I was about to pull up a chair next to my cousin, Uncle Yong pointed to his right and said casually, "A-Cheng, come, sit here."

I sat on his right, and Xiaowen on his left.

If I didn't realize by now that Uncle Yong’s sudden appearance was a show of support for me, I would have to be incredibly dense. As for how much weight that support carried, I had yet to see.

Uncle Yong only stayed for half an hour. Not many people came over to toast him—just the stall owner, Old Hai, and a few middle-aged men speaking the local dialect. Uncle Yong claimed he was too old to drink, opting for water instead. To many, he looked like the most ordinary old man, perhaps even less eye-catching than Xiaowen. But the world is never short of people with sharp eyes; those who knew what to look for naturally saw me, the man with a bandage-wrapped head, sitting right next to him.

After Uncle Yong left, everyone began to loosen up. As the atmosphere warmed, Xiaowen, whose tolerance wasn't high, began to flush after two beers. She took off her shoes, sat on the pink plastic stool, and watched us young, boisterous men with a gentle smile.

Chen Jianjun was truly happy—happy that Xiaowen had graced us with her presence, and even happier that Uncle Yong had sat at their table. But happy times always have interruptions. At 10:30, a group of motorcycles roared in. I spotted Da Hua immediately; the hair gel and the bandages on his face were unmistakable. Even the thug with his arm in a sling was brandishing a watermelon knife.

There were over a dozen bikes and more than twenty men, all armed.

There were five or six other tables at the night market, and the sudden, aggressive arrival chilled the atmosphere to freezing. Even the people at our table stopped their chatter, though they didn't yet realize these armed men were coming for us.

"Cousin, take Xiaowen and run," I said, frowning.

Though Xiaowen had skills, even the best martial artist fears a kitchen knife. She had mentioned her techniques were based on internal and subtle force, which might not hold up in a chaotic brawl. Besides, I had no intention of letting a woman fight my battles.

With that, I smashed a beer bottle on the ground.

My words snapped Chen Jianjun back to reality. Seeing the aggressive mob charging toward us, his face drained of color, and his friends began to show fear.

Only Xiaowen remained seated, motionless.

I stood up, holding the jagged neck of the bottle. "Every debt has its debtor. This has nothing to do with my friends. Let them leave."

Da Hua, his hair stiff with gel, raised his long blade and pointed at a man with a buzz cut. "Xing-ge, this is the brat!"