Chapter 121: A Knock at the Door

She raised her foot and kicked Yellow Hair in the shoulder. The force was neither light nor heavy, just enough to send him flying.

Yellow Hair flew sideways, hit the ground, rolled once, and his back slammed into a trash can.

A dull thud. The trash can lid popped off and clattered around, spinning twice.

Yellow Hair lay on the ground, clutching his shoulder, and let out a pained cry: “Ow!”

The other three figures stopped short.

Green Hair hurried over, took Yellow Hair’s arm, and pulled him up.

Yellow Hair grimaced and raised his head. The streetlight happened to fall right on Luo Qianning.

She was tall, with long legs. Black stockings hugged her legs, and the belt of her dark trench coat cinched her slim waist.

Her long hair hung over her shoulders, a few strands lifted by the night wind. The streetlight left her face half in light, half in shadow, her features cold. The main thing was her eyes. They looked familiar, like he had seen them somewhere.

For a second, Yellow Hair forgot his pain. He swallowed, clutched his shoulder, and his voice suddenly turned sleazy:

“Hey, miss, you just kicked me. You could at least give me some compensation.”

He snickered and snuck his hand toward Luo Qianning’s thigh.

Luo Qianning looked down at the approaching hand, her gaze turning cold.

She didn’t dodge or back up. She raised her foot and kicked.

The toe of her shoe struck Yellow Hair’s wrist with precision.

A light crack, like a chopstick snapping.

Yellow Hair’s wrist bent at an unnatural angle. He froze for a second, then screamed. He fell backward clutching his wrist, rolling on the ground in pain, tears and snot streaming down his face.

Luo Qianning withdrew her foot and glanced at the toe, making sure nothing dirty had gotten on it. Her voice was full of contempt:

“Men. Disgusting.”

The three thugs watched their boss get beaten like that and exchanged looks. None of them dared step forward.

They had already been beaten up badly by that pink-haired girl, and they were still carrying injuries. This tall woman was even less someone to mess with.

Green Hair and Bald Guy hoisted Yellow Hair up and turned to run.

Bald Guy ran while clutching his back and cursing under his breath. His voice was low, but just loud enough for Luo Qianning to catch:

“Damn, that stinking pink-haired girl really hits hard. Hurts like hell. Good thing I landed that stool on her back. She’s probably not feeling too good right now either.”

Luo Qianning had already turned to leave. She stopped mid-step.

She slowly turned back and looked at Bald Guy.

Her voice was low, but every word sent a chill down the spine:

“You said pink-haired? A short girl with a round face, hair dyed pink?”

Bald Guy’s skin crawled under her gaze. He scratched his shiny scalp and said in a small voice:

“Uh… yeah. What’s up, big sister?”

Luo Qianning’s brows drew together, her voice even colder: “Big sister? Do I look that f*cking old?”

Bald Guy’s face went white. He waved his hands: “No no no, that’s not what I meant… ow!”

Luo Qianning had already moved.

A slap landed on his face, sharp and loud. A red handprint rose on his cheek.

Another kick hit his shin. Bald Guy crouched down holding his leg, face twisted in pain.

Green Hair and Baseball Cap Guy were so scared they dropped Yellow Hair and ran.

Luo Qianning grabbed Green Hair by the back of the collar, hauled him back, and threw him to the ground. Green Hair lay facedown, cheek pressed to the floor, not daring to move.

Luo Qianning glanced at Baseball Cap Guy, who was already far away. She couldn’t be bothered to chase him.

Yellow Hair lay on the ground, clutching his wrist. He had watched one woman take down both his underlings, and the other one had already ditched him and run.

He wasn’t going to struggle either. He just lay there.

Luo Qianning walked over to Yellow Hair and looked down at him.

The toe of her high heel was almost touching the tip of his nose.

She raised her foot and stepped down on Yellow Hair’s uninjured hand, hard.

Yellow Hair cried out in pain and tried to pull his hand back.

But the more he moved, the deeper the heel sank into his palm. The foot kept pressing down.

He didn’t dare move.

Her voice was flat, carrying no threat. She was simply stating a fact: “I’m asking you. Which building is that pink-haired girl in? Which floor?”

Yellow Hair’s face went white with pain, tears and snot running, his voice shrill and trembling like his throat was being squeezed:

“Sister, I was wrong. Please take your foot off. It hurts… ah!”

Before he could finish, Luo Qianning pressed down again. The heel sank deeper.

Yellow Hair didn’t dare say anything else. He blurted: “It’s, it’s Building 7, floor 3, 302. Sister, I swear I’m not lying. Let go, let go, it hurts.”

Luo Qianning released her foot. Yellow Hair pulled his hand back and curled up on the ground, not daring to move.

Luo Qianning turned and left, not bothering with the people on the ground anymore.

The tap-tap-tap of her high heels faded and disappeared into the stairwell.

She walked to Building 7, pulled open the door, and went in.

The lights in the stairwell were sound-activated. They lit up at the sound of her footsteps, step by step, like someone was lighting the way for her.

She climbed the stairs step by step, unhurried, as if thinking about how she was going to punish someone next.

When she reached the third floor, the first thing she saw was a sack.

Luo Qianning frowned and complained: “Really unhygienic. Trash everywhere.”

With that, she kicked the sack aside.

She stopped in front of Room 302.

The door was closed, but there was a piece of broken porcelain by the door, and a few drops of blood on the threshold that hadn’t been wiped clean.

She frowned slightly, raised her hand, and knocked.

***

Luo Xiaoning was sleeping comfortably.

She didn’t know how long she had been asleep. She only knew that this embrace was warm and soft, much more comfortable than a pillow.

She nuzzled into the white fluff, her nose brushing against a few fine strands of hair. It tickled. She wrinkled her nose but didn’t wake up.

It was Su Yutao’s white hair.

Then came a knock at the door.

At the first knock, Luo Xiaoning didn’t react.

At the second, she frowned and buried her face deeper into Su Yutao’s shoulder, continuing to sleep.

At the third and fourth knocks, she muttered something, garbled and indistinct, like sleep talk, or like cursing.

Without opening her eyes, she kept her arm around Su Yutao’s waist and pulled the whole person in tighter, like hugging an oversized plush toy.

Su Yutao was pulled forward by the motion, her head resting against Luo Xiaoning’s collarbone, her breath muffled in the collar of Luo Xiaoning’s shirt.

The knocking stopped.

Then it started again, heavier this time.

It wasn’t knocking anymore. It was pounding.

“Bang. Bang. Bang.”

Luo Xiaoning’s brows knitted even tighter. She rolled over. Su Yutao slipped out of her arms and bumped against the sofa armrest with a dull thud. She didn’t wake up.

Luo Xiaoning reached out and patted blindly around the sofa. She found the crumpled blanket, pulled it over her face, and covered her whole head.

The door kept pounding.

Her phone vibrated.

She stuck a hand out from under the blanket and fumbled across the coffee table. She touched the pieces of the broken remote, the tissue box, a slipper, and finally, the phone.

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