Chapter 89: Picking Up a High School Girl

Bang.

The office door was kicked open.

A kraft-paper file folder smashed onto the desk.

“Luo Shaotian!!”

A voice strangled by fury roared out.

Captain Zhang stood at the doorway, his face flushed a violent red, the muscles around his eyes twitching uncontrollably. His old, sweat-soaked shirt—the one he’d worn for more than ten years—clung to him like a second skin.

“You still f*cking know how to come back?!”

He jabbed a trembling finger at Luo Shaotian.

“I told you to suspend yourself and reflect! And you—you’re out there stirring up shit like always! You—!”

Luo Shaotian just stood there, unmoving, like a block of wood.

“Say something! Cat got your damn tongue?!”

Zhang rushed forward, grabbing him by the collar. His bloodshot eyes locked onto him.

“In the interrogation room you snapped a guy’s arm! A few days later you kicked someone across a food stall! Are you f*cking insane?! Do you remember you’re a cop?!”

“…I remember.”

Luo finally spoke. His voice was calm—deadly calm.

He slowly lifted his head and met his teacher’s furious eyes.

“Of course I remember. I’m just suspended, that’s all.”
He tugged slightly at his collar. “This shirt is uncomfortable.”

Captain Zhang’s anger seemed to hit cotton—absorbed, swallowed, suffocated. He abruptly choked on his own fury, his chest tight.

“To protect you, do you know how many people I’ve begged?! How many reports I had to rewrite?!”

“Do you know why?!”

Luo didn’t answer.

Captain Zhang’s voice cracked.

“Because I believed you were still salvageable! That you weren’t like those street-trash thugs you fight against! And look at you now—what the hell have you become?!”

“Trash?”
Luo let out a sudden laugh. It was cold—almost gentle.
“Shifu, you’re wrong. I didn’t become trash.”

“Before, my world was gray. Procedures, evidence, human rights—blah blah blah.”

“And the result? We catch scum, throw them in jail… a few days later they walk out and go right back to hurting people.”

He opened his hands, as if embracing an entirely new world.

“So I discovered… there’s only one thing scum fear.”

“Real violence.”

“Get out.”

Captain Zhang closed his eyes, exhausted beyond words.

“Get out! I don’t want to see you ever again! From this moment on—I have no disciple!”

“Okay.”

Luo nodded, turned, and walked out without the slightest hesitation.

His footsteps echoed down the empty corridor until they faded completely.

Captain Zhang slumped against the cold wall, sliding down to the floor.

He fumbled out a crumpled cigarette, took several tries to light it.

Hooo—

The smoke curled upward. He buried his face in his hand.

Outside the window, the sunset bled across the sky.

Luo Shaotian was in a terrible mood.

A restless agitation churned through him, like thousands of ants gnawing at his veins.

Old man…
You don’t understand.

He walked along the familiar streets. Neon lights warped the faces of passersby into distorted colors, as if they were smudged with poison.

And then—the whispers returned.

(…Look at them. Useless trash…)
(…Cowardly, filthy, pathetic…)
(They’re wasting their lives…)
(…Clean them up… all of them…)

“Shut up.”

He growled in his mind.

The voices fell silent for now.

He hated them. Yet he knew they were something else—something powerful.

A force that stripped away illusions.

Lin Yu, that idiot, called it a “curse.”

Ridiculous.

It was clearly the cure.

The only cure for this weak, inefficient world.

He cracked open a beer can, chugged half of it.

The bitterness cooled his heated mind—just slightly.

Then—

A coarse shout interrupted his thoughts.

“Lookin’ at what, huh?! Never seen handsome brothers drinkin’?!”

Two drunk punks at the alley entrance were shoving a white-collar worker. One blonde thug smashed his half-empty beer bottle on the man’s face. Glass sprayed everywhere.

“You spilled my damn beer! Pay up! Not giving me eight or ten grand today? Don’t even f*cking think about leaving!”

The victim trembled violently. Bystanders avoided them like plague.

Luo stopped walking.

Trash.

He saw it clearly—

Their arrogance.
The victim’s pathetic fear.
The world’s apathy.

(…clean them… make them quiet…)

A cold curve rose at Luo’s lips.

He stepped toward them.

“Hey. You two.”

His voice wasn’t loud.

Yet the punks turned, sneers twisting their faces.

“Oh? Pretty boy’s got a death wish?”

The blonde cracked his knuckles. “You got three seconds to crawl—”

He never finished.

A hand shot out—faster than lightning—closing around his throat.

The blonde’s eyes bulged. His lungs collapsed. Panic drowned him.

Bang!

Luo lifted him like a garbage bag and smashed him into the wall. The body slid down bonelessly.

“f*ck!!”

The second thug turned to run—but pain exploded in his knee.

Crack—!!

He collapsed, howling at the sight of his twisted leg.

Five seconds.
That was all it took.

The white-collar worker collapsed in his own urine, looking at Luo like he was a monster.

Luo paused.

The terror in the man’s eyes was… odd.

Not gratitude.
Not relief.

Just pure horror.

(…See? They’re fools. Not worth saving…)

Luo snorted softly.

He walked away without another glance.

The subway ride home was silent.

Violence had calmed him—but only like a shot of morphine. When the numbness faded, the emptiness doubled.

He bought beer and cigarettes from a convenience store. The cashier never even looked up from his phone.

Whatever.

He walked home, through a narrow, dim, surveillance-free back alley.

Then—

He stopped.

Under a streetlamp sat a small shape.

A girl.

A student in a deep-blue sailor uniform from the nearby private academy.

She was squatting on the ground, arms wrapped around her knees, face hidden.

Trouble…

His first thought.

Runaway?
Fought with parents?
Locked out of home?

Whatever.

Not his business.

He finished his beer, tossed the empty can into the trash bin with a clean metallic clang.

He moved to walk past her—

Don’t get involved.

He was no longer the “good cop” who escorted lost kids home.

One step.
Two steps.

Then—

His body froze on its own.

Damn it…

He cursed himself internally.

Maybe it was the alcohol.
Maybe her small, pathetic silhouette looked too miserable.

He turned back.

“Hey.”

The girl’s shoulders trembled slightly.

“You—”
He rubbed his forehead, annoyed. “You brat. What’re you doing out here this late? It’s dangerous. Go home.”

No answer.

“Did you hear me? Go home.”

Still nothing.

Then—

She inhaled sharply, as if gathering every scrap of strength she had left, and slowly lifted her face.

Under the dim streetlamp—

It was a face too clean, too delicate to exist in this filthy world.

Pale skin.
Fine features.
Eyes wet like a frightened fawn, tears trembling but refusing to fall.
A few strands of hair stuck to her damp cheeks.

So fragile she looked like she’d shatter from a breeze.

Luo froze.

“…You…”

Before he could finish, she jerked to her feet like a startled rabbit—and slammed her back against the wall.

“S-Sorry!! I— I’m sorry—!!”

Her voice was soft, trembling, almost breaking.

Luo sighed.

“No place to go?”

She nodded, tiny and miserable.

“Running from home?”

Another tiny nod.

“Tch…”

So—rebellious phase.

Whatever little patience he had evaporated.

He took out his wallet and held out some cash.

“Take it. Find a cheap hotel. Go home tomorrow morning. Got it?”

But she didn’t take it.

She looked up—eyes shimmering—and shook her head stubbornly.

“…My… my wallet was stolen… ID too… student card…”

Her voice grew quieter and quieter, tears gathering again.

Luo gave up and pulled the money back.

“Then I can’t help you. Just go home.”

Silence.

Then—

“…Um…”

The girl lifted her head.

Her voice trembled, but her gaze was serious—desperate, but resolute.

“Mister… please…”

She bowed deeply.

Then, with a courage scraped together from who-knows-where:

“C-Could I… stay at your place tonight?”