"Young man, would you like to pass on the torch?"
Xu Qing heard the young girl's words, and the first response that sprang to mind was this phrase.
Then, Xu Qing replied to the girl with equal seriousness: "My life is already extraordinary."
The girl: "…"
She had many things to say, but couldn't say them anymore.
She was rejected.
How sad.
Then came surprise.
Xu Qing's grip was like an iron hoop.
The girl, caught off guard, was firmly grasped, "It hurts."
She had just spoken when Xu Qing let go.
Her wrist, like frosted snow, showed visible bruises under the moonlight.
"If I had wanted to kill you just now, you would already be dead," Xu Qing spoke slowly, then added, "You may not like a life of conventional tedium, but you must also accept that what I just did was far gentler than the extraordinary life out there."
Towards the end, Xu Qing spoke with a hint of apology: "I shouldn't speak to you in such a preachy tone, but I really do consider you a friend."