Chapter 113: The Foot-Picking Big Man's Flirtation

Macau is a sleepless city; from the moment I arrived in Macau, I fully realized this: night in Macau is not an end, but a brand-new beginning.

Everyone who played all day was very tired, especially me, having followed behind these three people and been bored all day. Someone said shopping is women's nature; now I have fully experienced this. We've been running through Macau's streets and alleys all day, yet Yao Yirong and Silijing show no sign of fatigue.

Especially Yao Yirong, this oddball—she wasn't tired at all; instead, she was full of energy, standing on Macau's main street shouting loudly, declaring she would visit all of Macau's nightclubs and drink all the cocktails in every bar.

Nearly exhausted, I was thus dragged, pulled and hauled, into the bar.

That night, I, Yao Yirong, and Silijing sat down at the bar's chairs; the four of us casually ordered a cocktail and sat idly in the bar.

Of course, probably only I was truly idle; wherever Silijing is, Pangzi always has something to busy himself with, his spirit never wanes, and wherever he goes it's always spring.

And Yao Yirong, even if no one accompanies her, just listening to the DJ and bobbing her head, she can still have a great time; the only one who seems out of place with the whole environment is probably me.

On the bar's stage flashing with five-colored lights, many scantily clad, half-drunk men and women dance wildly in the disco area.

Looking at this scene, my first reaction was not to harshly spit at those scantily clad people on the stage, nor to quickly finish my drink and leave this uncomfortable place.

Instead, I inexplicably recalled that poem I wrote in school that wasn't really a poem.

Don't you see, under the multicolored neon lights, repressed people take off their masks and wildly indulge themselves.

Don't you see, the seven-colored lights flowing like material cast out distorted, ferocious faces.

In the corners where no light reaches, maggots breed, desires sprout, and one deceitful transaction after another is achieved beneath a mask that hides true reality.

I wondered, why did I say back then that one cannot see the true face?

Now it seems these faces are quite real; under social and life pressures they must wear masks, putting on false, strained smiles while living exhausted in body and mind. When night deepens and people quiet, as night falls, they again take off their masks and choose an alternative, most genuine way of living.

But is the face beneath the mask truly the real self? Or is it merely a humanity twisted by the suppression of the seven emotions and six desires, already twisted?

Beneath the neon lights, the prosperous decay stages a half-price authentic drama. Staying here can be said to be another experience in my life; at least everyone here has once had a moment to open their hearts. I, however, am in the position of a spectator, observing the joys and sorrows of those caught in the story.

Therefore, whether we are in any revelry of wine and meat or in dire straits, to us it is merely an experience. Instead, I should thank this environment for letting me see clearly many worldly disputes.

But… I never imagined that, as a spectator who was doing fine, because of a dog-blooded accident, I would be completely transformed from an outside observer into… the protagonist of the story.

The cause of the incident is truly dog-blooded—so dog-blooded that I didn't even react when a glass bottle exploded on my head, wondering what was happening.

Speaking of which, just as I sat in a chair holding a cocktail, my eyes idly scanning the bar.

A bald big man with two mustache tufts suddenly came over; of course, his target wasn't me, but Yao Yirong sitting nearby.

"Little sister, interested in taking a boat ride with this handsome guy?"

When I heard that, I almost threw up last night's leftover rice; look at his eyebrows and eyes, all squeezed together, his slanted mouth dripping long drool, the light in his eyes—what is that, lecherous, right?

Looking at that bald big man's smug, triumphant face, I couldn't help wondering in my heart, "Damn, who gave him the nerve? Looking like that, he still dares shamelessly to call himself a handsome guy and hit on a little girl."

And Yao Yirong was even more direct, sternly staring at the bald big man for a moment, then her slender finger pointed toward the door.

"Turn left when you go out; there's a restroom there, with two big mirrors inside."

Yao Yirong's remark instantly made my brain burst with laughter, even the cocktail I had just swallowed came out with a puff. This talent for hurting people is truly substantive—not bluntly calling someone ugly, but making them go to the restroom to look in the mirror.

I think no one else would consider Yao Yirong's words a compliment.

At least, this oddly looking bald big man wouldn't think that; after Yao Yirong uttered that cutting, frank sarcasm, he flew into a rage—anger making his hair stand on end for a beauty, he flew up in anger… for no reason.

Before I could react, suddenly there was a clang, then my head hurt, and hot alcohol flowed from the top of my head into my eyes.

"Little sister, this pretty boy nowadays isn't reliable—look, he can't even withstand a beer bottle."

After the bald big man pointed at me and said that mocking line, I, dazed, finally realized what was happening.

If nothing unexpected, I should have been blown in the head…… gloriously sacrificing myself, becoming this man's trophy for picking up women and showing off his skills. Understanding the truth, I immediately felt a surge of anger rise from my heart to my forehead.

I was just having a drink; I've provoked no one… could it be wrong to sit beside a beautiful woman?

Besides anger, I also felt a surge of helpless, bemused emotion.

Immediately afterward, another scene delivered a heavy blow to my spirit.

I saw Yao Yirong lift a glass beer bottle with one hand; with two clangs, she rhythmically struck the bald guy's head with one hand holding a bottle; with a pop, the bottles shattered one after another, pale yellow beer flowed down the bald big man's bald head, and his head was covered with many glass shards.

I admit I misjudged her. I always thought Yao Yirong was just violent; I didn't expect her violence to come so cleanly and efficiently.

After Yao Yirong finished beating him, Pangzi behind her rushed forward and kicked the bald big man straight away; in an instant, the bald big man flew off like a broken kite, landing with a thump and punching a big hole in the bar counter one meter away.

Since the brother was beaten, Pangzi naturally showed no mercy in his strike.

All this happened in the blink of an eye—from my being blown in the head, to rage, to helpless bemusement, to the bald big man being kicked away—the whole process took only the time it takes to smoke a cigarette.

Only after it was over did I realize what had happened; then I felt the throbbing pain on my forehead, quickly grabbing a tissue to press on the bleeding wound to stop the blood loss.

At that moment, I fell completely from being the story's protagonist to…… a wounded supporting character; the protagonist's halo lingered stingily above my forehead for just a minute, then my pale yellow protagonist halo turned into a blood-colored supporting halo.

I thought the act was over, this play should have wrapped up, but who knew—actually, the end of one story is merely the beginning of another.

Just as we were about to pay and leave, the bald big man, helped up by a yellow-haired youth, staggered to his feet. After standing, he bellowed: "Surround them for me!" and then waved his hand all around.

After the bald big man's angry shout and wave, more than a dozen dyed-haired triad thugs came from all directions to surround us,.

Exactly, they came from the four directions southeast, northwest, etc., initially more than a dozen, then later… too many to count.

"Damn it, you actually dared to smash Tiger Lord's head…… you've got guts, you really have guts," the bald big man fiercely raised his thumb at Yao Yirong.

His greedy eyes roved without restraint over Yao Yirong and Silijing; then he gave a lewd smile and loudly ordered his lackeys: "Keep the women for me, chop the men for Tiger Lord and throw them to feed the dogs."

After saying that, he sat on a nearby sofa, poured a glass of red wine, lit a cigar, and under the protection of five black-clad bodyguards, looked down on us, his eyes radiating cruelty and lechery. This light, full of desire and impatience, is like the so-called nobles in the ancient Roman arena, gazing at beasts trapped in cages, feeling no pity at all, but eagerly awaiting the beasts to fight each other.

"Wait, throw away all the knives and forks, switch to beer bottles, grab those two guys and have me beat them with beer bottles." The bald big man touched the spot where Yao Yirong had blown his head, his face bearing a cruel smile, he ruthlessly intensified the spectacle.

"Damn, this dead bald guy is simply a pervert times three!" Hearing his order, besides anger, I involuntarily clenched my sphincter; although his meaning is apparently to have his underlings beat our heads with empty beer bottles, whoever hears this… using beer bottles to beat him will always cause some unnatural reaction somewhere on the body.

As for where exactly that would be unnatural, I no longer have the leisure to study this complex and profound problem.

Because, the triad thugs from all directions are forming a encircling circle surging toward us, each swinging an empty beer bottle in hand, each gazing at us with a cruel smile in their eyes.

We, surrounded in the encirclement, nervously sweating in our palms, looking at the bustling crowd, the wolf-like gang encircling us like predators; as prey, our mood is naturally unpleasant.

Although Pangzi and Yao Yirong know some martial arts, the bar's space is too cramped. Moreover, they're human, not machines—how could they withstand so many beer bottles? Besides… there's also me and Silijing, these two burdens.

"Weiqiang Brother, when you see the chance, take them and leave first."

"Yirong, seize the opportunity, take Jingjing Sister and Hai Sheng and leave first."

When everyone was suppressed by the tense atmosphere and could barely breathe, Yao Yirong and Pangzi spoke in unison, saying this; then the two simultaneously froze, perfectly in sync.

"Yao Yirong, don't cause trouble, listen to me, in a moment you see the chance, take Hai Sheng and Silijing sister and leave first." Pangzi made a starting posture of Xingyi Quan, cautiously guarding against the approaching gangsters.

"No, the trouble is my fault. You go first, I'll cover the rear."

"Stop arguing, it's no big deal, just fight them head‑on—if we leave, we leave together; if we stay, we stay together." I shouted angrily, cutting them off. I've never been someone who dwells on problems. Since the trouble has already closed in, I can only face it head‑on, meet violence with violence… and leave it to fate.

Just as I forcibly bolstered my courage and interrupted Pangzi and Yao Yirong, the gangsters around us drew ever closer; one of them, taking advantage of our distraction, lunged at Pangzi with a beer bottle.

This is, after all, a battlefield; although the cause seems like a melodramatic movie, in reality a fight is a fight—the enemy won't give you all that drawn‑out romantic time.

"Uh oh… be careful," I and Silijing exclaimed in unison. The highly alert Pangzi timely turned, seized the gangster's wrist with a fierce eagle‑claw grab, then followed with a straight kick that sent him flying.

However, subduing one doesn't mean the war is won; just as Pangzi kicked the first gangster away, the remaining gangsters imitated him, grabbing empty beer bottles and lunging at us.

Amid an endless sea of people and a sky‑covering rain of empty beer bottles, even Pangzi, versed in martial arts, lost his composure; Silijing was even more frightened, her face turning deathly pale as she clutched her head and shut her eyes tightly.

I could almost foresee our ending—being smashed to death by countless empty beer bottles.

"Don't move—whoever dares to move my brother, I'll cut your leader." When the beer bottles all around were just a ruler's length away from me, a loud shout suddenly rang out in the dance hall; everyone froze, and all the beer bottles hung in mid‑air, none striking my head.

When everyone turned to look, all they saw was a young man in black casual wear pressing a glass shard hard against the neck of a bald, burly man.

Although this young man was dressed in black, he was definitely not Fan Wuchang—but why does his back look so familiar to me?

The young man who had seized the bald, burly man slowly turned around, finally letting me and Pangzi see his appearance clearly.

The moment we saw his appearance clearly, I and Pangzi also froze.

How could it be him…?