Distance Between Us 2

The man's words were grating to the ears. As he looked around, eyeing the despondent glint in the eyes of Yang Lin and his company, a spark of satisfaction lingered in his heart. Unknowingly, his lascivious expression beamed with delight, though it looked like the bottom of a boot from Yang Lin's eyes.

Each of the men reeked a pungent odor, their dirt-clad bodies were enshrouded in scars, even the thick cast of snow couldn't conceal such a grotesque image. Grandma Mo seemed rather calm, as she cast a side glance at Ming'er by her side.

The lass seemed to notice the subtle hint from her Grandma, which induced a speck of surprise to flash across her clear eyes. Just as she took a step forward towards the bandits, the man in the lead laughed out heartily, his mouth began to water a clear trace of saliva past his mildly busted lips.

A frantic sensation flared through his groin region the more he fantasized about deflowering such an immaculate woman. Just then, both parties froze in shock as a shadow dashed by Ming'er, circumventing both Grandma Mo and Lady Yang in the process.

Yang Lin's movement was nimble and agile. He didn't know why, but he happened to notice the subtle hint Grandma Mo gave to these bandits. He knew that if he didn't invite Grandma Mo over for dinner, there would have been a different outcome.

He didn't know why his feet moved. A moment earlier, he was like a petrified statue, the more he attempted to lift his feet off the ground, it was as if gravity had set him in a block of concrete. The dangling hatchets that are yet to discard the crude odor of blood, the metallic luster of the rough copper, the inhumane look in the eyes of these bandits, all of these scenes implanted a seed of fright that captured him from advancing forward.

He thought that at least, they would all perish together. However, when Ming'er took a step forward, he instantly deduced that this might not be the case. If she was to let them have their way, all because of his immature lack of foresight, he can't rest well even six feet under.

"Lin'er!" The first one to recover from shock was his adoptive mother, her vocal cords almost shred apart as she screamed at the peak of her might. The woman propelled herself instinctively, she couldn't care less about her disabled body, nor did she find the spare time to roll the rustic wheels underneath her palms.

Her movement was so sudden that her chair flipped over, her body plunged onto the sole tapestry on the dire flooring, yet the dirt and dust crept all over her buxom figure. Weirdly enough, the sight of this woman had moved the hearts of some bandits who observed from the distance.

Even if she couldn't bear children anymore, that didn't mean a group of wolves would discard a piece of extra flesh. Even if her beauty wasn't the type to twist a man's neck down the street, anything is acceptable to a group of vulgar men who devour to live on.

Thud!

A soft sound rippled out through the dramatic atmosphere. Yang Lin coiled his arms around the bear-like waist of the man in front. Even as he was considered quite tall amongst his peers, his arms were barely able to circle the robust physique before him.

Yang Lin had attempted to tackle, or at least budge the man in the lead, hoping to clear a path for Ming'er to escape. Alas, he was far too naive, he was akin to a kitten attempting to move a deeply rooted tree at this instant.

Before Yang Lin could lament his rash, impulsive behavior, the corner of his eyes caught the shadow of a fat knee speeding towards his abdomen before his vision blurred with a hazy mist.

Bang!

"Ga-..."

Yang Lin gasped out an abysmal portion of breath, he felt his saliva accumulating incessantly as his body arched like a bow. Before he knew it, he was coughing up amounts of liquids he never would have thought his fragile body contained. His entire body convulsed in an unnatural manner as a dim veil of darkness over-clouded his vision, not a few breaths of time after.

The last things he recalled before passing out were the disembodied noises of laughter, ridicule, anxious shouts, cries, and un unusual silence.

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"Lin'er!... Lin'er!..."

By the next moment, Yang Lin fluttered his eyelashes apart. For him, it felt like a fleeting moment, yet conversely, it felt like he had died ten times over. The moment he realized his life was yet lingering, the first scene he came to imagine was Ming'er pleading to offer her body in exchange for his and mother's life.

He had always kept an eye on her from a distance, he knew her character, he knew that if she had the capabilities, she would help.

He knew about her shady life in the dark, the days she gets bullied, mocked, or harassed verbally by the remaining orphans. Yet now, she was ought to experience a life worse than death, and he played as a catalyst to ensure such an endeavor.

Yang Lin's heart skipped heavy beats as if a rustic knife had pierced through from one side to the next, he didn't even frown at the indescribable melody of his name being chanted by his adoptive mother nonstop. It wasn't until he felt a tingling sensation at the corners of his eyes, then he felt a very thin, yet clear stream of water descending his cheek.

This stream of water had a peculiar, salty fragrance. As his vision sobered up, he could see the face of his adoptive mother that seemed indiscernible from the face of someone who ran naked through a rainstorm.

Her nose looked crooked, cheeks flustered, eyes blurred out, and a heavy sheen of tears and sweat masked her skin. He wanted to comfort her, but words would surface his throat and sink towards his stomach like a meteor.

Yang Lin choked on his breath, his clenched fists trickled with blood as he pursed his lips in a helpless manner.

"I liked her," he said.

"I really liked her," he muttered.

"I..." Yang Lin choked on air once more, not wanting to look at his adoptive mother in the eye for fear that he has failed her. He intentionally or unintentionally veered with his eyes towards the broken door of their so-called home.

As Yang Lin caught a glimpse of the disfigured bodies of brutally slain bandits under the cold breeze of winter, his expression froze.