Chapter Eight: Another Luo Qing

Chapter Eight: Another Luo Qing

Supporting myself against the wall, I followed the two young men—a portly red-haired fellow and a skinny blond—step by step as we headed outside. It felt as though I could no longer sense my own legs; my whole body was limp, and I might collapse at any moment.

“Damn it, can’t you walk faster?” The red-haired fat guy turned around, grabbed me by the collar, and yanked me forward. The blond beside him moved behind me and kicked me hard in the back. The force sent me staggering, and I fell to the ground.

Propping myself up, I shook my head vigorously, trying to stay conscious. I forced my eyes open, but all I could see were blurred images of the two men. A final shred of clarity lingered in my mind. I hoped my willpower could overcome the alcohol, but the harder I tried, the heavier my head became, and my consciousness slipped further away.

“Brother Niu, this kid doesn’t even have the strength to reach the restroom. Why don’t we…” The blond glanced at the fat guy, his tone sly.

“No. We’ll do exactly as Tian Shao instructed. Don’t get clever.” The red-haired fat guy strode past me, grabbed my arm, and hauled me upright. In my feeble resistance, the two forced me into a spacious, brightly lit bathroom and slammed the door behind us.

With the door shut, the two approached, grinning wickedly. I leaned against the sink and laughed. “As expected… you’re nothing but a bunch of lying… trash.”

“Shut your mouth!” The blond exploded at my words, rushed over, and kicked me in the chest, sending me sprawling across the tiled floor.

Clutching my chest, I tried to sit up, but the blond straddled me. My alcohol-dulled mind was too slow to react, and he punched me square in the face. My head struck the cold floor with a thud.

“Heh… trash…” I breathed heavily, slowly wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, and forced a grin. I whispered, spaced and deliberate, “You… little… trash.”

“You bastard, I’ll…” The blond was utterly enraged, cursing as he swung another punch at my face.

But this time, I was ready. That first punch had actually jolted me awake. I grabbed his weak fist and shoved it aside, then punched him hard in his scrawny stomach. He doubled over, and I slammed my head into his nose.

He screamed in agony, clutching his nose as he rolled off me.

I staggered to my feet, grabbed his hair, and drove my knee into his forehead, knocking him out without hesitation.

“Pathetic,” the red-haired fat guy sneered, spitting into the sink as he watched. He strode toward me, unhurried.

“Since the moment I came in, you’ve pissed me off,” I said, taking off my jacket and tossing it carelessly to the floor behind me. I beckoned him with my finger. Truthfully, much of my bravado was an attempt to intimidate this menacing red-haired brute. My sudden burst of strength had let me take out the blond, but if it came down to a real fight, I knew I stood no chance against him.

“Keep pretending, go on,” he taunted, cracking his neck with a loud crunch as he approached, grinning maliciously.

My heart raced; he was clearly more dangerous than he seemed, perhaps even experienced in street brawls. I retreated a step, turned sideways, and covertly slipped my hand into my pocket, gripping my phone.

He noticed but didn’t care. He lunged at me in a massive stride, his mountainous bulk bearing down with terrifying force. I tried to leap away, but my control over my body was poor; in a daze, he pinned me to the ground.

He wrapped both hands around my throat and squeezed, his weight pressing down relentlessly. I braced my knee against him, struggling desperately, trying to protect my vulnerable neck. But he seemed determined to kill me, leaning in with all his strength, his fingers locked around my throat.

Summer, you’re ruthless.

I didn’t care about consequences. I snatched my phone and, with all my might, smashed it against his head. The dull thud of metal hitting flesh rang out. On the second blow, he released his grip, shielding his forehead. Freed, I seized the opportunity and struck at his head again and again.

“Whack!” He caught my hand mid-swing, gripping it tightly. I stared at him in shock—his forehead was already bleeding in several places, and his eyes filled with murderous intent. Real, unmistakable killing intent.

“Damn.” Before I could raise my left hand, he swung his fist and punched me in the eye. Instantly, my vision went white. My head crashed to the floor again; my consciousness teetered on the edge of collapse. My strength ebbed away, my eyelids heavy, barely able to stay open… A strange illusion overtook me—I felt as though I was about to die…

My body felt weighed down, leaden, and I could only muster the strength to raise my arms to shield my head, turning sideways on the floor to minimize the blows.

Suddenly, the red-haired brute—now wild as a beast—pulled my arms apart. In a haze, another heavy punch landed on my face, the taste of blood flooding my mouth—salty, metallic, unpleasant.

I lay powerless on the ground, letting him, crazed and unhinged, pummel my chest and face. My body felt broken, but the alcohol numbed much of the pain.

“Who would have thought, I’d meet my end here…” I bitterly mused. “And all at the hands of a petty thug…”

My mind replayed the brief, blissful days spent with Luo Qing—days filled with laughter, tears, loneliness, and excitement. Sometimes, I thought… if I died like this… maybe it wasn’t so bad…

Sleepily, I closed my eyes. No pain remained; the world seemed silent but for the sound of my heartbeat… Yet, regret lingered—so much regret… How I wished I could see you in a wedding dress—red, not white. I cared nothing for tradition or rules, only that you loved that color…

If we married, we’d have a lovely child—no, a pair of children, a boy and a girl… I’d teach the boy to play guitar, to be a man, to study hard—never to repeat my mistakes… The girl, she must resemble Luo Qing, and grow into a graceful beauty…

“Bang!” My head struck the floor again. I slowly opened my eyes and saw the fat man, yanking my hair and slamming my head down. I saw the harsh glare of the lights behind him, the pristine ceiling, the distant stars, and swirling snowflakes…

“Stop!” A delicate, commanding shout rang out. The fat man froze, his grip on my hair stiffening as he turned, dumbfounded, toward the door.

That domineering yet familiar voice made me look toward the entrance. There, Luo Qing stood—when had she arrived? I forced the corners of my mouth into a smile, trying not to appear so wretched.

Not only Luo Qing stood at the door—beside her was Summer, and behind them, a middle-aged man dressed in black. I squinted, recognizing him: Luo Qing’s father, Luo Qiancheng.

Seeing the carnage in the bathroom, Luo Qing’s body trembled violently. She barked coldly at the red-haired brute, “Come here.”

To my surprise, the fat man released his grip on my hair, his expression fearful as he shuffled over, head bowed. “Miss Luo… I…”

“Kneel,” Luo Qing ordered coldly, not letting him explain.

“I…”

“I told you to kneel.” She cut him off, her voice shifting from icy to soft. Her complexion was pale; I had never seen her like this—not even that night at the bar, facing danger from Qi Tian, had she worn such an expression.

With a thud, the fat man dropped to his knees before her, saying nothing more.

Luo Qing, dressed in a red gown and black heels, stood over him with regal, chilling authority—a queen above all. Her gaze was cold and indifferent as she looked at the trembling man, as if he were not human, but mere livestock.

Seeing her now, surprise and confusion filled me. In my memory, Luo Qing was never like this. Though she had a temper, she was mostly sweet and gentle. But this cold, merciless side—I’d never seen it before.

“Who told you to do this?” Luo Qing crouched down, giving a sweet smile as she lifted the fat man’s chin and looked into his eyes, her voice gentle, “Tell me, won’t you?”

“I… I can’t say.” He turned away, refusing to answer.

“Very well.” Luo Qing stood up, glanced curiously at Summer, and asked softly, “Brother, what do you think I should do?”

“Uh… whatever you think is best.” Summer seemed afraid to meet her gaze.

“That’s right.” Luo Qing’s voice turned icy once more. To my astonishment, she raised her foot—still clad in a high heel—and kicked the fat man square in the mouth without hesitation.

He screamed, clutching his mouth as he knelt before her. Blood poured from his lips, staining the floor.

Chapter Eight: Another Luo Qing