Nan Hong - Chapter 10
Wen Yifan’s name, spoken by Sang Yan, felt like a jolt. She couldn't remember the last time he’d said it. Panic made her question if she'd even heard it, and she kept running, her mind a whirlwind.
Then, a firm hand wrapped around her wrist.
Sang Yan pulled her back toward him, his grip anything but gentle. When she looked up, his face was a hard mask of anger, his jaw tight. He yanked the car door open.
“What are you standing there for?” he snapped.
Her heart was pounding from fear and the sprint. She didn’t speak, just followed his command and slid into the car. The door slammed shut behind her, and she saw him press the lock button.
The three men caught up, their leering gazes falling on the car.
The one with the tiger tattoo peered inside. “Hey, handsome, is this your girlfriend? She’s pretty.”
Sang Yan looked up, his voice cutting through the air, each word delivered with icy clarity. “None of your business.”
The tattooed man's smile vanished. He stepped forward and shoved Sang Yan's shoulder. “What’s with the attitude? Just taking a compliment, man.”
Sang Yan’s hand shot out, grabbing the man’s arm, his fingers digging in. He then threw it off as if it were contaminated. His eyes were cold, his tone flat. “Are you leaving or not?”
“Fine,” the man scoffed, mistaking Sang Yan’s calm for a retreat. He pointed at Wen Yifan. “Just tell that bitch to come out and apologize first. With a face like that, she’s practically begging—”
The words died in his throat.
Sang Yan’s kick, delivered without a hint of hesitation, landed squarely in the man’s abdomen. The sound of it echoed even inside the car. The man stumbled back, clutching his stomach, a guttural curse escaping his lips.
The two other men stood frozen for a second before they rushed forward to help.
Inside the car, Wen Yifan's hands trembled as she grabbed her phone to call the police. Sang Yan, typically so laid-back and apathetic, seemed to have been replaced by a stranger. His face was devoid of all expression except pure fury. His eyes, dark and menacing, looked at the men as if they were nothing more than garbage.
Two of them charged at him. Sang Yan’s movements were swift. He grabbed one by the hair, yanked his head back, and slammed it against a street lamp. The other man landed a punch on the side of Sang Yan’s face.
Sang Yan’s head snapped to the side. He paused for a moment, then, to Wen Yifan's horror, he started to laugh. It was a cold, humorless sound. He seemed to have lost all reason, all sense of pain. He focused his attack solely on the tiger-tattooed man, cornering him relentlessly. At one point, Wen Yifan saw his lips move, but she was too far away to hear what he said.
Just then, a police car pulled up, and an officer shouted, “Hey! What’s going on here!”
Relief washed over her. Wen Yifan scrambled out of the car, positioning herself between Sang Yan and the police. “Officer, I’m the one who called. This is my friend…” she said, her voice strained but steady.
Sang Yan’s face was bruised and cut, a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. He looked down at the back of her head, his ferocity replaced by a quieter, heavier emotion.
They were all taken to the station to give their statements. Based on their injuries, it could have been ruled a mutual fight. However, the tattooed man had a prior record and was known for harassing his last victim, which made his case much worse. The others were let off with a verbal warning and a small fine.
Outside the station, Wen Yifan glanced at Sang Yan’s swollen face. “Do you want to go to the hospital?” she asked, her voice soft with guilt.
He didn't answer, his mood clearly sour.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” she pressed, concerned. “Let’s just get you checked out. It won’t take long.”
“Wen Yifan,” he interrupted.
“What is it?”
He looked at her, his eyes unreadable. “Couldn't you see me standing there?”
“What?” She was confused.
“Why did you run if you weren’t asking for my help? Did you not hear me telling you to come over?” His tone was laced with sarcasm. “Are you blind, deaf, and mute, with only your legs left to run, is that it?”
She ignored his nastiness, feeling she was in the wrong no matter what. "I was going to ask for your help, but I didn't know if they had weapons. I didn’t want to get you involved.”
He just stared at her, listening to her explanation.
“Besides,” she admitted honestly, “there were three of them. I didn’t think you could take them all.”
He stared at her for a moment, then let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.
As they passed a pharmacy, she stopped. “Wait here,” she said, and went inside, buying some antiseptic and bandages. She found a secluded bench nearby, and they sat down.
“You should put some of this on,” she said, handing him the bag. “You can’t walk around looking like that. People will stare.”
He took the bag and, without a word, began to treat his wounds. His movements were rough and careless as he sprayed antiseptic on the bruises on his arm. She felt her guilt intensify as she watched him. He then moved on to his knee and finally his face. This part was difficult. He fumbled with the cotton swabs, frowning as he missed spots.
She couldn’t stand it. “Let me help you.”
He paused, looking at her, then wordlessly handed her the supplies.
Just as she leaned in, he said, “Don’t try to take advantage of me.”
She froze, then swallowed her retort. “Okay, I’ll be careful,” she said, her voice strained. She took a cotton swab, dipped it in iodine, and carefully dabbed it on a cut on his face. He flinched, hissing.
She pulled back immediately. “Can’t you be more gentle?” he complained.
“I haven’t even touched you yet,” she muttered under her breath, then said louder, “Okay, I’ll be gentler.”
She moved closer, focusing on his wounds. As she worked on a cut at the corner of his lip, she was hyper-aware of their proximity. She finished cleaning the last wound and looked up, her gaze meeting his.
The air seemed to still.
“It’s just applying medicine,” he said, his voice a low, rough murmur. “Do you need to be this close?”
She sat back quickly. “Sorry. The lighting’s bad. I couldn’t see.” She added, “It’s done now.”
He leaned back, his tension finally seeming to ease. “So, what’s your deal?” he asked.
She tidied up the supplies. “The big guy lives next door to me,” she explained slowly. “He harasses me a lot, and I called the police before. He got locked up for five days, so I guess he holds a grudge.”
Sang Yan’s expression soured. “You’re still going back to that dump tonight?”
“I’ve already found a new place, but I haven't had time to move. Tonight, I’ll stay at a friend’s.”
He was silent for a long moment, then just gave a small nod.
She checked her phone. “It’s late. You should go home. Su Hao’an’s car is still at my place, you’ll have to go back there anyway.”
He didn’t say anything, just nodded. They hailed a cab and headed back to her complex.
After they got out, Wen Yifan was about to say goodbye when he started walking toward her building. “What are you doing?” she asked, following him.
He turned his head. “Going up to pack your things.”
She was stunned. “Huh?”
“You’re still planning to come back to this dump?” he said, his voice filled with disdain.
She felt a wave of relief. She had been dreading going back alone. “Thank you,” she said gratefully.
He just grunted, not bothering to reply.
The building was dark. The lights were out on several floors, and the hallways were filled with the unpleasant smell of damp garbage. She felt a flash of embarrassment at his presence in such a place, but he didn’t comment.
When they reached her door, he stopped. “I’ll wait for you out here,” he said, hands in his pockets.
She nodded and went inside. She had been in Nanwu for less than three months and hadn't accumulated much. She only needed one suitcase and a duffel bag. Within minutes, she was done.
“Just this much?” he asked as she came out.
“Yep.”
He took her bags without another word, carrying them down to his car. He put them in the trunk and got into the driver’s seat. “Where does your friend live?”
Wen Yifan had been trying to decide whether to get a hotel or call Wang Linlin to ask if she could stay with her.
He was getting impatient. “Did you hear me?”
“Shangdu Huacheng,” she said finally.
He frowned but started the car. It was only a five-minute drive. As they neared the destination, he asked, “Which building?”
She honestly didn’t remember. “I’m not sure,” she said.
“Ask her,” he said calmly.
She had already messaged Wang Linlin but hadn’t received a reply. She didn’t want to keep him waiting. “She hasn’t replied yet. You can just drop me off at the entrance.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then, his voice flat, he asked, “Do you have a friend living here?”
“What?” she asked, confused.
He didn't say another word.
At the entrance of Shangdu Huacheng, he got out and pulled her bags from the trunk. “You’ve helped me so much today. Let me treat you to a meal sometime,” she said, her voice sincere.
“No need,” he said, his tone cold and final. “I would’ve done the same for a stranger.”
She looked at his bruised face and couldn't help but say, “If you’re always so ready to be a hero, how often does your face look presentable?”
He just stared at her, speechless.