Chapter 11: Checking In

“They’re here!”

Shiyue instantly went on high alert, fixing her gaze on the school gate from across the street. Of the three students, the couple arrived first. They were walking together, but with their heads buried low, moving briskly as if they had no intention of lingering outside the school grounds.

“Kill!”

The command exploded in her mind. Shiyue almost charged straight at them, but a glance at the security guard standing by the gate stopped her cold… Suppressing her trembling hands, she slowly sat back down.

Watching helplessly as their figures vanished into the school, Shiyue’s gaze grew dark. A while later, the rich kid’s face appeared. He arrived in a gleaming sedan. After getting out, he lingered at a breakfast stall outside the gate where several boys seemed to be waiting for him. Surrounded by his clique, there was no chance to get him alone.

The sky was growing lighter, pedestrians were filling the streets, and patrol officers had begun their rounds. The window of opportunity had closed.

Shiyue noticed a police officer patrolling leisurely nearby. She had a sudden urge to ask him for help to get home… but glancing back at the rich kid’s face—snickering as he whispered something to his companions—she knew she couldn’t give up.

“Why not go back?”

“Dad might be worried sick. Maybe he’s already called the police… I still have school.”

“…”

She didn’t approach the officer. Instead, she turned and jogged back toward the beggars.

Perhaps it was excessive rage at those impulsive students, perhaps a desire for revenge, a longing to play the hero, or maybe she had simply always craved violence… Whatever the reason, she refused to let this go.

For the next three days, she hid under the pedestrian bridge opposite the school, tracking their movements like a beast stalking its prey, patiently waiting for an opening. Fortunately, they were day students, so she saw them every morning and evening. Unfortunately, she never caught them alone. The rich kid, in particular, had a chauffeur for drop-offs and pickups, leaving Shiyue with absolutely zero opportunity.

But Shiyue persisted. She tagged along with the beggars for food, realizing quickly that they weren’t true beggars—they rarely begged. They were scavengers, making a living by selling recyclable trash: aluminum cans, old clothes, broken glass, plastic. Occasionally, they got lucky and found something valuable. They also frequently asked restaurants for food; owners would usually toss them a hodgepodge of leftovers since it was going to be thrown out anyway. In just three days, Shiyue had eaten for free at restaurants across several blocks.

“We aren’t supposed to pick trash here. There are sanitation workers for that; we’re technically stealing from the government. That’s why we carry a bowl—if the police come, we pretend to be beggars. If they chase us, we leave; we don’t argue. If they catch us in the act, we hand over the trash and promise not to do it again… truth is, they aren’t that strict. They have too much else to handle.”

Shiyue mimicked them, carefully picking out items that looked valuable from the trash heaps and stuffing cans and bottles into a large black bag, stomping them flat. When the bags were full, they dragged them to an inconspicuous recycling station beneath a high-rise building. Surprisingly, they made decent money. Old Liang even struck gold, finding a diamond ring that turned out to be of good quality.

By nightfall, the beggars kindly warned her that it was unsafe for a person to be on the streets alone and offered to let her stay with them. Shiyue, of course, refused, insisting on finding a hotel. Worried about her, the group insisted on guiding her.

Since Shiyue had lost her ID, she had to find a remote “black hotel”—an unregistered guesthouse. They led her to a township near the highway where such shady motels were common. Shiyue picked one but, fearing the beggars might know the owner and plot against her, insisted on going in alone. The beggars couldn’t sway her, so they hid across the street to watch.

The receptionist was a scruffy middle-aged man. When Shiyue entered, he was lighting a cigarette, watching a small TV news report about a recent string of robberies urging the public to be vigilant. Seeing Shiyue, he hurriedly stubbed out the cigarette and asked if she needed a room.

Shiyue nodded, holding up one finger for a single room. The owner quoted a price. She reached into the bulging lining of her jacket, fumbled around, and pulled out a wad of crumpled bills, counting them clumsily. The lighting was dim, and the owner could barely make out the school uniform under her jacket. Fortunately, Shiyue’s night vision helped her count out the cash from the pile. She handed it over, thanked him, took the key, and went upstairs.

The single room in this black hotel was truly bare: a bed, a lightbulb, and a TV. Nothing else. The bathroom had a sink and a toilet, but was otherwise empty. Touching any surface resulted in a handful of dust.

Shiyue lay on the bed, exhausted, staring blankly at the ceiling. The late night was so silent she could only hear the ringing in her ears. After a while, she sat up and turned on the TV. It blasted a low-quality variety show with terrible acting. Just as she was fiddling to change the channel, she heard footsteps outside, followed by the sound of a key in the lock.

“Who is it?”

Shiyue nimbly jumped off the bed. She looked for a weapon but remembered the room was empty. She gripped her room key tightly and quickly slid under the bed.

The door swung open. The owner and two skinny, dark-skinned men barged in. Their eyes immediately went to the spot where Shiyue had just slid under the bed.

“Under the bed! Block her in!” the owner blurted out.

The two skinny men immediately flanked the bed on the left and right, bending down simultaneously to grab her.

Shiyue fixed her eyes on the side facing the door. In a blink, she locked eyes with one of the men. As he reached out to grab her, Shiyue seized his wrist first, lunged forward, and drove the sharp point of the key straight into his eye socket, shoving it in mercilessly deep.

“AAAAHHH!!!!”

A raw, guttural scream pierced the silent night. Shiyue kicked him away, rolled out from under the bed, and made a break for the door. The sudden, agonizing howl startled the owner and the other man on the opposite side of the bed, freezing them in place. They looked up to see their companion curled up on the floor, blood seeping through the fingers clutching his eye, left with only the strength to dry heave.

By the time they looked up, Shiyue’s figure was already flashing through the doorway, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

“Stop!”

The owner roared, his voice exploding like thunder. He and the remaining accomplice gave chase. Their chaotic footsteps thudded heavily in the stairwell. Shiyue sprinted down to the first floor in one breath. Looking back, she saw the owner hot on her heels. Gritting her teeth, she dashed to the front desk, grabbed the small TV, and swung it at the owner, hitting him hard enough to make him stumble and fall.

The other man rushed at her with clumsy steps. Shiyue put her back against the reception desk, brought her legs together, and delivered a straight kick that knocked him over. The owner scrambled up, cursing, and reached out to grapple her again. Shiyue rolled to dodge, sweeping all the clutter off the desk in a clattering crash.

As the other man got up to join the owner in rushing Shiyue, realizing she was outnumbered and in trouble, a series of “Ow! Ow!” roars suddenly erupted from the doorway. several small, older men darted in, grabbed the owner and his accomplice, and began beating them indiscriminately.

Shiyue stared in surprise. It was the beggars. They hadn’t left.

It turned out they knew this area was full of dangerous shops. Even though Shiyue was wary of them, they couldn’t rest easy leaving her alone, so they had decided to linger a while longer.

When they saw the owner lead two accomplices from a teahouse next door and sneak back into the hotel, they guessed it was a robbery trap. However, they hadn’t dared to charge in immediately. They had dithered across the street until they saw Shiyue flying down the stairs and taking down two men on her own. Only then did they rush in to help her gang up on the owner.

Punches weren’t enough to vent their anger. They dragged the owner and his accomplice into a back room, found a belt, and whipped them viciously, cursing with every strike:

“Open a black shop, will you?! Bully the weak and fear the strong, will you?!”

“Bully our little sister? We’ll beat you to death!”

They only stopped when the two men had no strength left but to beg for mercy, and Shiyue finally told them to let it go.