Chapter 19: Shadows of Loyalty

Fu Xiaoya shoved me into the nearest private room, the dim light barely piercing the shadows, curtains letting in only a sliver of neon glow. I stumbled onto the sofa, still reeling from her push, when her hand cracked across my forehead—sharp, relentless slaps that left my head spinning. "Jie! Stop, stop!" I threw my arms up, panic surging.

"You even know who Han Feng is? And you go running with him?" Her voice was a blade, cutting through the thick air.

"He plays guitar. He's… a good guy. Used to be a big name on the streets. Yeah, he just got out of prison," I blurted, spilling everything I knew, my words tumbling over each other.

"You know why he went in?" Her tone was ice, seasoned with street-smart danger.

"I… no."

Eight years ago, she said, the county shook with one case: Han Feng stormed a man's home with a gun, blew out both his kneecaps, left him crippled for life. Her eyes skewered me as the words sank in, cold sweat sliding down my back. My breath came shallow. Han Feng… *that* ruthless? No wonder her face changed when she heard his name.

"He… he said he was framed," I mumbled, clinging to a fragile thread.

"And you just believe him?" Her palm whipped across my cheek, so hard stars burst in my eyes, my nose stinging with heat.

"Jie, I just… wanted a friend. A way out," I croaked, my throat dry, words scraping like gravel.

"Your only way out is college. You? Trying to 'mix in society'? A waste like you would get eaten alive—chewed up and spat out," she hissed, every syllable laced with contempt.

"College… I can't. Not anymore." The words crawled out, heavy with defeat.

"What did you just say?" Her voice cracked like a whip, her stare pinning me, drilling into the brittle core of my soul.

"I… only took the first day. Two subjects. I can't get into any university." I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for her fury—fists, screams, the storm I deserved.

Silence.

When I dared to look, she wasn't hitting me. She was crying, quiet sobs spilling into the dark, her shoulders trembling. Panic hit me like a gunshot. "Jie… don't… don't cry." My chest ached; I wanted to hold her, shield her, but I didn't dare. I touched her hand, light as a breath.

"You idiot. You… goddamn idiot. You really want to stay trash that badly? I hoped—stupidly—that you'd make it out. So maybe, just maybe, I'd escape this hellhole too." Her words stabbed deep, twisting in my chest.

She could hit me, curse me, tear me down—but she was the only one who cared. "It wasn't that I didn't want to try," I choked out. "The second day… I was kidnapped. Dumped in a forest miles away. By the time I ran back… it was over."

Shock froze her face. Then she lunged, shaking me hard. "Who?! Tell me everything!"

I spilled it—Qin Shaohu's setup, the masked men, the forest. I left out Xu Li and the drugged porridge. That pain was mine to carry; no need to make her bleed too.

"Qin Shaohu… that bastard! I'll kill him. I swear I'll—" Her teeth ground so hard I heard the crack. She paced, a caged storm, fists clenched, her rage terrifying.

"Jie! Don't. Please. Don't do anything crazy." I dragged her back to the sofa, clinging tight. "I'll deal with him. I'll make him pay. Make him choke on his name."

"With what? That cripple outside?" She jerked her chin toward the door, her voice dripping with scorn.

"No. Me. I'll ruin him. Tear his life to shreds." I tried to sound fierce, like a street wolf, but my voice trembled, hollow even to my own ears.

"He's trash. Not worth your ruin," she bit out. "Take it on the chin. Go back. Repeat the year. You'll crush it next time."

The word *repeat* wrapped chains around my chest. I'd just crawled out of that grind. But for her—for those eyes blazing through tears—I nodded, swallowing the stone in my throat. "Okay."

My phone buzzed, a single ring then silence. Han Feng's signal. "Family buy that for you?" Her eyes flicked to the phone, unsurprised. Our family could afford that much.

I didn't lie. "Han Feng gave me the money."

Her jaw locked. "And you took it? If you let him wrap you up, you'll never get free."

"Relax, Jie. I know what I'm doing." My voice shook, but I forced it steady.

A knock shattered the moment. The KTV floor manager stood at the door, his face dark. She'd been gone too long, told to get upstairs. She shot me one last punch in the shoulder. "Be smart. Call me if anything blows up." She scribbled her number, shoved it into my hand, and stormed out.

My heart soared. Her number—a lifeline Dad and Xu Li didn't have.

Han Feng kept his word; the tab went under Fu Xiaoya's name. I climbed to the second floor, found the private room. He was on his feet—well, on his crutches—microphone in hand, head swinging to the beat, bellowing like the world owed him applause. The table was spread with fruit, beer, and… two women. Painted faces, heavy perfume clawing up my nose the moment I stepped in.

I perched on the sofa's edge, grabbed a beer, cracked some peanuts, my nerves taut. The song ended, and Han Feng turned, his grin sharp. "You dead or what? My brother walks in, and you just sit there?"

"Sorry, Feng-ge! Didn't know he was your guy!" One giggled, sliding toward me, hips swaying, her scent stabbing my skull. I recoiled, knees hitting the table, panic knotting my gut. Shame burned—because for a fleeting second, I pictured Fu Xiaoya. Did she ever sit like this, painted up, smiling through humiliation, bowing to scum?

"You shy? Don't tell me you're still a virgin?" Her eyes gleamed, a predator scenting blood.

"Back off. I'm… not used to this," I stammered.

"Move!" Han Feng's voice cracked like a whip. The girl flinched, scurrying aside.

He dropped beside me, arm slung heavy across my shoulders, grin wicked. "Brother, let me teach you something. Women? The nicer you are, the worse they treat you. Don't forget that."

I scratched my head, flushing. "Feng-ge… I've never even… had a girlfriend."

He barked a laugh. "Lesson one—women don't love saints. They love wolves. When the time comes, don't hesitate. Claim the body first—only then can you claim the heart."

A chill slithered through me. Han Feng wasn't just rough—he was poison, his words a dark gospel I wasn't sure I could follow.