Chapter 149: Huang Xiaotao’s Birthday

After the case with Qu Tingting wrapped up, Sun Bingxin kept texting me every now and then. She said her dad had started making her come home to sleep every night — basically putting her under house arrest. They argued a lot over it. I figured Sun Lao Hu, having spent his life as a cop, knew the dangers involved and was just too protective of his daughter to let her get involved.

Lately, Wang Dali had been giving me some weird looks. I wondered if the guy was on something. Then one day, he pulled me aside, all secretive:"Hey, Yangzi, share some of your secrets with me."

"What secrets?" I asked, confused.

"How come you suddenly got so popular with girls? Got some ancient family technique for picking them up? Spill it to your bro."

I rolled my eyes. "Get lost. What nonsense are you always thinking about?"

He grinned slyly. "I know exactly what you think about — one's a hot, badass cop chick; the other's a cute childhood friend. How'm I supposed to choose?"

I clenched my fist. "No secret pick-up skills here. But how about I teach you my family's secret art of tendon-twisting and bone-breaking instead?"

He yelped and scurried away fast.

Honestly, I wasn't torn at all. Sun Bingxin was like a little sister to me. Huang Xiaotao, though… after everything we'd been through—life and death moments—she held a special place in my heart that no one else could touch.

November rolled around, and the air turned crisp. Students on campus bundled up in thick coats.

That day, I remembered it was Huang Xiaotao's birthday. She'd once said she wanted red roses, so I went to a florist. The shopkeeper told me red roses were usually for lovers; if you weren't officially together, pink roses were a better choice.

I bought a small bunch of pink roses and texted her, Are you free tonight?

She replied instantly: What, got a surprise for me? Come over! We'll have a small birthday party.

That evening, holding the flowers nervously, I arrived at her place. Ringing the doorbell, Xiaotao opened the door in comfy homewear. Seeing the roses, she covered her mouth, eyes shining."Song Yang, you're getting more thoughtful. Come in — I've been waiting for you to eat!"

I asked, "What's for dinner?"

On the dining table, a stack of plastic takeout containers. Xiaotao had been too busy to cook lately.

She wasn't working late tonight, though. She'd opened a bottle of authentic French red wine and lit some scented candles. The soft flickering light made her face glow beautifully—I was stunned.

I said, "Happy birthday!"

"Thank the heavens, Huang Xiaotao has survived another year," she joked.

"Don't say that — it sounds grim."

As we clinked glasses, she winked playfully: "Wait, I'm the birthday girl here. Aren't you going to sing me a birthday song or something?"

I scratched my head awkwardly. "Me? Sing?"

"Come on, I've never heard you sing."

It was her birthday after all. Despite my awful singing, I gave it a shot, singing the birthday tune stiffly. Xiaotao clapped gently, smiling. After I finished, I sighed in relief.

"That was lovely, I recorded it—my new ringtone!" she said.

I panicked. "No, no, no! How will I ever show my face again?"

She laughed. "Relax, I'm just teasing. Now, cheers!"

We raised our glasses, but just as we touched them, her phone rang. Xiaotao frowned as she answered.

"A new case?" I asked.

She sighed. "Yeah, looks like this dinner's off. You stay here. I'll be back later and we can watch a movie."

"I'll come with you—maybe I can help."

"It's not a murder—just two gangs fighting, with over a dozen people injured. We're heading there."

"Gang fight? No way—I want to see that."

"Suit yourself. Don't say I didn't warn you."

We drove to the scene. The other cops were already there. I imagined a gruesome battlefield—guys sprawled on the ground, broken limbs, guts everywhere. But reality was different.

There were a few bloodstains on the pavement, and both gangs were already controlled. Two men—a man in a trench coat and a bald guy—were being questioned. Both looked roughed up but were arm-in-arm like best buddies.

The trench coat guy said, "Officer, we didn't fight. We're good pals—just drunk and fooling around."

The bald guy nodded, "Yeah, we're tight. We even share pants. How could we fight?"

The cop snapped, "Over a dozen people got stabbed, four or five street vendors lost their stands, and shop windows were smashed—'fooling around,' huh?"

The trench coat guy shrugged, "Well, you know, we were drunk. I'll cover the medical bills."

The bald guy added, "No, no, it was some of my guys who messed up. I'll pay the bills."

They bantered like old friends right in front of the cops. I was baffled—what was their real deal?

Xiaotao approached, and the other officers stepped aside, greeting her with "Officer Huang!" The trench coat guy gave a weird salute and smiled: "Officer Huang, long time no see. What breeze blew you here?"

Xiaotao's face was cold. "Cut the act. Everyone knows your two gangs hate each other. Stop pretending to be brothers in front of me."

The trench coat guy smirked, "Our bosses have issues, but me and Baldy are good. No way we fought."

Turns out they were the heads of rival gangs. When cops showed up, they quickly patched things up and denied any fighting.

Gangsters fear nothing except cops. They don't flinch at stabbing or getting stabbed, but even a day in jail is a nightmare.

One officer came over holding a big bag full of bloodied machetes.

"Officer Huang, we've got all the weapons here," he reported.

Xiaotao looked at the two gang leaders: "Own up—who brought which knives."

The trench coat guy looked shocked. "Knives? I have no idea. Baldy, are these yours?"

The bald guy shook his head. "No way. These knives are huge—bigger than my kitchen watermelon slicer. I only carry a nail clipper."

I was done. These two were Oscar-worthy actors.

Xiaotao smirked. "Fine. Identify whose knives are whose. Whoever admits to more gets credit for cooperating."

The cops dumped the knives on the ground. The two men eyed them and started "recognizing" knives, with sarcastic insults flying:"This one's yours.""Nah, yours.""This one's your mom's.""Your dad's.""Your whole family's."

Xiaotao's plan to pit them against each other worked perfectly. At first, the cops watched amused. But soon the two were shouting, glaring daggers, and the tension skyrocketed.

Xiaotao signaled the officers, and suddenly they each grabbed a knife and swung at the other. The cops quickly intervened, breaking up the fight. The two men glared red-faced, yelling curses.

"Baldy, this isn't over—I'm gonna wipe your Black Panther gang out!"

"Coward who dares not own up, our Blood Wolf gang will avenge our boss with your blood!"

Xiaotao cut in sharply, "Wait—your boss is dead?"

The bald guy realized he'd slipped. "No, no. Our boss got hurt—he's in the hospital."

The trench coat guy sneered, "Don't listen to him. Our boss was killed not long ago, and it wasn't pretty. Now the Black Panthers are blaming us just to stir trouble. We're not having it."