65

Xiao Dasheng, raised in the military compound, was a born soldier. His slap was no joke, sending the thug leader, Gouzi, staggering back several steps before collapsing, clutching his swollen face. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth, his battered look almost pitiable.

The smaller thugs surged forward, one shouting to fight, but Gouzi, sharp despite the hit, held back his usual hotheadedness. Scrambling to his feet, he growled, "We're with Zhang Shao of the North Wolf Gang. Who the hell are you? Don't push it."

No one expected these punks to be North Wolf Gang members. Xiao Dasheng, already fuming over the gang's recent antics, saw red. Zhengyang had ordered them to summon Zhang Feng for a meeting, but Zhang had scoffed, "Lei Third Young Master? Heh, thinks he's a big shot now? Sorry, I'm busy. If he's curious, he can visit the North Wolf Gang. I'll roll out the red carpet."

Li Yuanfeng and Xiao Dasheng, capable in their own right, were cautious in the capital, reluctant to stir trouble or report their failure to Zhengyang—it'd make them look incompetent. Had Zhengyang not run into this mess, prompting their intervention to save his skin, they'd still be dodging his gaze.

"Monkey, break both his arms. Leave the legs so he can crawl back to Zhang Feng," Zhengyang ordered, his voice icy. "Tell him to stay healthy—hope the North Wolf Gang's business thrives."

Xiao Dasheng's grin turned feral. With a howl, he charged. The thugs swarmed, but in a single clash, three dropped unconscious. The remaining two, sensing doom, abandoned their boss and bolted. They'd met a real predator.

Zhengyang didn't spare the thugs a glance. He loomed over the trembling middle-aged man, eyes cold as death. "Red Entertainment Group, huh?"

The man backpedaled, feigning calm. "Brother, misunderstanding! I'm just passing through. I'm a manager at Red Entertainment, scouting talent. Got friends who want to be stars? I'll make them shine. Earlier was a mistake, honest!"

Zhengyang's smile was chilling. His hand shot out, seizing the man's throat, slamming his head onto the table—bang, bang, bang! Five blows split the table in half, leaving a bloody gash on the man's forehead. His eyes rolled back, and as Zhengyang released him, he crumpled like a dead dog, motionless.

The crowd, Qingcheng, even Li Yuanfeng behind him, felt their stomachs churn at the raw violence. In a year, the once-wastrel playboy had transformed. From today, no one could dismiss Lei Zhengyang. As he stomped the man's limbs, snapping bones with sickening cracks, the man's weak screams faded. No one dared breathe a word.

"Settle her wages. She's done here," Zhengyang commanded. The manager, quaking, scurried to the register, pulling out a thousand yuan and thrusting it into Sun Xueling's hands. "Xueling, here's your month's pay, plus a two-hundred bonus for your great work."

Xueling, unsure of Zhengyang's identity but grateful for his help, felt guilty for the chaos. "Manager, the month's not over, and this is too much. The damages—"

Zhengyang glanced back. Li Yuanfeng tore off a check and handed it to the manager. "This covers the restaurant's losses. Don't worry—no one's troubling you again. They won't get the chance."

A thousand yuan for wages and a bonus, traded for a hundred-thousand-yuan check. The manager silently thanked his stars for not shorting Xueling—otherwise, that check would've slipped through his fingers. Xueling eyed the check, then Zhengyang, wanting to speak but holding back. A hundred thousand was a fortune she desperately needed.

Zhengyang peeled off Xueling's waitress apron and cap, not giving her a chance to resist. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he strode out, tossing back, "Thanks for today. Drinks on me tonight—Yaochi."

Qingcheng rushed after him, indignant. "Hey, Lei Zhengyang, you're ditching me—a stunning beauty—for her? I treated you to lunch, and you don't even say goodbye? Rude much?"

Her heart raced with unease after witnessing the brutal scene, half-expecting this volatile man to snap at her. But seeing him walk off with a waitress, leaving her behind, stung. Was she, in his eyes, less than her? "Thanks for the meal," Zhengyang said lightly. "Food was meh. She's my real dish." He nodded at Xueling, whose face flushed crimson as she squirmed, powerless in his grip.

Truth be told, the woman was strikingly beautiful.

"Safe travels, Boss. See you tonight," Xiao Dasheng and Li Yuanfeng called, relieved. This was a step toward aligning with Zhengyang—a promising start.

Li Yuanfeng turned to Qingcheng. "Miss Ye, I'm Li Yuanfeng, Zhengyang's brother. How about a drink on me?" Beijing's four beauties were known to all, and he recognized her, though she didn't know him.

Qingcheng gave him a sidelong glance, sighing. "You don't seem bad. Why hang with a creep like Zhengyang? Take my advice—steer clear. He's no good."

Li choked on his own spit. Sure, Zhengyang wasn't a saint—neither was he—but if she knew that, why dine with him? Before he could reply, she cut him off. "Not interested in his friends or meeting you." With a whirl of perfume, she was gone.

Outside, Zhengyang held Xueling, who nervously blocked his hand, fearing it'd wander. But he kept it at her waist, respectful. Once they stepped out, she said, "Sir, thank you for today, but I don't know you. I need to get back to campus. Can you let go?"

Zhengyang didn't release her. "Xueling, do you believe in love at first sight?"

Her calm facade cracked, anger flaring. "No, I don't. It's just a lie to trick people. I'm grateful for your help, but if you think that earns you something, sorry—I'm not interested. You've got power, money. Plenty of pretty girls at Tsinghua would jump at being kept. Find one you like. It won't be me."

His words soured her impression. She'd briefly seen him as a good man, not some fairy-tale prince, but "love at first sight" pegged him as another sleaze after her body. Zhengyang gave a wry smile. Her caution—waiting for him five years in that other life—was why she'd won his heart.

Releasing her waist, he said, "Fine, if you don't trust me, trust yourself. Xueling, I can help you."

"I don't need your help. Thanks for the offer, but I've got class this afternoon. Excuse me." Without a glance, she turned to leave.

"What about Xiaohu?" Zhengyang's voice, soft but clear, stopped her. "You really going to let him rot in prison forever?"

He hated using her brother's plight against her—it was her deepest wound. But her walls were too high, and he had no other way. He needed to shield her, to spare her the pain of their past life.

Xueling's body trembled, her hands clenching into fists. She spun, fury morphing into something wild. "Who are you? Why do you keep pushing my family to the edge? You drove my parents to their graves—wasn't that enough? Do you need to destroy my last kin to be satisfied? You're not human—you're monsters!"

Zhengyang stood still, letting her vent. Time passed, her strength ebbing, until she looked up, drained. "Tell me, Sun Xueling won't break. I won't sell myself. I promised my brother we'd live happily. We'd die for each other, but as long as I'm alive, he'll hold on."

Zhengyang's heart ached, moved by their bond. He'd known their closeness in memories, but feeling it now nearly brought tears. "Hear me out," he said. "Listen to my story, and I'll get Xiaohu out."

"Go ahead," she said, voice flat. "I've heard plenty of lies. Hope yours has some flair, or it'll bore me." Clearly, she didn't trust a word he said.