——What? She was in the international class before?? (confused face)
——How did she get in?
——Everyone listen, Class 2 is the most tragic, forced to drag an aircraft carrier
——Class 2 Class Monitor: Annoying that our liberal arts class scores are dragged down by her. And now it’s even better, she scored zero points, the whole class has to suffer mockery because of her cheating
——Bai Shaoqi replies Class 2 Monitor: My sister has gone to Xiangcheng
That’s a screenshot of the entire content.
The original owner didn’t add Bai Shaoqi or Song Ming’s WeChat.
The online friend messages Bai Lian: ?So pissed. She deliberately replied the Class 2 Monitor. Now everyone is going crazy gossiping. What exactly is going on? Are you really in Xiangcheng??
Bai Lian: ?As you can see, I’m in Xiangcheng?
Online friend: ?Are you an idiot going to that godforsaken place??
Online friend: ?????
Bai Lian: ?[Smile]?
Online friend: ?You’re smiling at me??
The young miss doesn’t really understand modern smiling.
She sends a question mark and goes back to Baidu, searching topics she’s interested in.
Ji Heng doesn’t live in the estate but on Qingshui Street.
In the undeveloped Xiangcheng slums, there is a large tract of bungalows. Dark and damp, outside is a street lined with shops. An unregulated area where all sorts of international fugitives pass through. Disappearances happen every year and go largely uninvestigated. Most people just live on their fixed salaries. Once in the city, that was their whole life.
Across the river facing Qingshui Street is the border between two countries.
It’s especially chaotic here. Most of the time the police don’t dare interfere either.
But patrol officers can be seen today wandering around, a small bulge at their waists–their guns.
Ji Shaojun looks surprised. “Patrols today?”
“Started recently,” Ji Heng says, pipe in hand as he walks towards an alley.
Ji Shaojun nods. Patrols make things safer.
After all with Bai Lian’s face, it’s quite dangerous here.
The alleys here are narrow, dark, and paved with stone. Garbage piles that no one cleans line the winding corners. Occasionally black water would squeeze out from under the stone slabs when stepped on. It was a completely different world from the bright lights of North City.
Bai Lian is very quiet the whole way, not commenting on the conditions here.
After winding through several alleys they finally arrive at Ji Heng’s residence. Surrounding them are all short bungalows. Ji Heng unlocks the gate to a small courtyard.
The courtyard isn’t big. A sycamore tree grows in the middle with a stone table and a well underneath.
Ji Heng takes out his pipe, pointing to the right house, “That was your mother’s old room. You can sleep there. Conditions are like this. Go back to the Bais if you can’t get used to it.”
Having said that, Ji Heng turns and enters his own room.
Ji Shaojun smiles at Bai Lian reassuringly. Seeing she doesn’t object, he relaxes and brings her luggage inside.
The room is old but everything inside has been well preserved and kept clean.
Bai Lian opens her luggage and takes out piles of books, arranging them on the desk by the window.
“Lian…” Ji Shaojun thought her luggage would contain clothes or feminine products. He didn’t expect full boxes of books. He’s stunned for a bit before saying gently, “Don’t worry about the school thing. We’ll figure something out.”
He goes out to look for Ji Heng.
Bai Lian sits on the edge of the table flipping through books. She takes out a math book, the one she’s most interested in reading.
She skims from math to geography and politics, and finally English–the language she least wants to read. Glancing briefly over it, she picks up the last one.
History.
The original studied liberal arts so she would’ve taken history.
After about five minutes she extracts a history textbook. A test paper flutters out from between the pages as she does. She bends to pick it up absently. But her gaze lands on one of the essay questions:
[20. Concisely describe Liang Zewen’s taxation system and its impact on the years of stability and prosperity under Emperor Ming. Why did his death allow Jiang Wudi to smoothly usurp the throne?]
Slap!
Bai Lian abruptly sandwiches the test paper back into the history book.
Her breathing turns ragged. Her fingertips clutching the textbook tightly, turning white. Long lashes droop down, veiling her quivering eyes.
**
“Want me to go with you?” Ji Shaojun sees Bai Lian about to head out so he comes over from inside. “It’s easy to get lost here.”
Even Shen Qing and the others don’t remember the way.
Bai Lian pulls up her hoodie and shakes her head.
“Alright,” Ji Shaojun sees she seems a little silent so he guesses she might be in low spirits because of the Bais. He keeps his voice gentle, “Don’t wander too far. Call me if you can’t find your way back. Be careful.”
“Okay.”
Bai Lian follows the path out just like how they came. She has good memory. Even though the roads are complicated, one trip is enough for her to remember.
She was the one who drew most of the maps during their military campaigns back then.
“Two yuan,” the middle aged man at the small shop on the street hands her a bottle of mineral water, using the towel around his neck to mop his sweaty brow. “Little miss, you’re not from around here right?”
With her exceptional looks and unique temperament–the good posture so different from ordinary people–the boss could tell with one look she wasn’t local.
This Qingshui Street was in the old city district. A 3 meters wide bluestone road. At the end were gambling dens, black markets, and bars. It was bustling with all sorts of people, full of fish eyes mixed with pearls*.
One km ahead was even more complicated, the national border.
An unregulated area. Disappearances were nothing rare.
Bai Lian nods. She scans the payment code with her Huawei phone and looks up at the enormous banyan tree branches next to the shop.
The banyan tree is in front of a temple down the road. Its thick branches spread to cover the surrounding short buildings below its canopy.
A 3 meter long branch lazily crosses the narrow street.
Red ribbons hang from it.
“The tree god is over 1300 years old,” the boss explains, still moving boxes that are piled like a small mountain outside his shop. Seeing Bai Lian look at the banyan tree, he adds, “It protects us. If you want to see it, just walk two more steps. That’s the tree god’s temple.”
Bai Lian’s long hair spills over one shoulder. She leans against the wall looking at the tree trunk. Her eyes are tinged with a hint of leisure: “Over a thousand years old huh.”
She senses several gazes land on her.
The boss sets down a box and turns. His hand involuntarily goes up to grip the towel around his neck.
A few men have appeared on the street. Despite the not very hot day, the one leading them wears a white tank top.
The white tank top walks over. He didn’t care at first.
But seeing Bai Lian’s exquisite face that makes one very much want to conquer her, he casually grabs a pack of cigarettes from the boss’s shop and asks while lighting one up, “Who’s she?”
The boss blanks for a second before answering nervously, “She’s my niece.”
“My ass she’s your niece!” White tank top scoffs. He kicks the boss aside and moves closer to Bai Lian.
The boss gets kicked to the side. “There’s patrols these couple days. Y-you guys…”
A few lackeys surround him. They’re clearly very experienced with these situations and don’t take Bai Lian seriously either. They stand to the side relaxed, chuckling as they watch the scene unfold.
Bai Lian glances at the white tank top. “You looking for me?”
Seeing her look makes his heart leap. He strides forward, blatantly checking Bai Lian out up and down. His gaze is like a slimy, venomous snake. He lights his cigarette, “You know you gotta pay protection fees for walking on Qingshui Street?”
“Protection fees?” Bai Lian calmly flicks a leaf off her shoulder.
She smiles slightly to the side. Her eyes seem to sparkle.
So sweet and innocent.
Makes one very much want to conquer her.
“Yeah,” White Tank Top can’t endure it. He reaches to touch Bai Lian’s face.
In just that brief moment, Bai Lian smashes her empty bottle into the trash can.
As she turns her body she grabs White Tank Top’s outstretched arm, then ruthlessly twists and folds his arm back. Her other hand seizes his hair. White Tank Top screeches. Just as he tries to struggle, his head gets rammed viciously into the wall behind him!
Bang!
His head slams hard against the concrete. Blood immediately starts oozing from his forehead.
White Tank Top’s face twists in pain. To his horror he realizes he can’t move. He can only stare wide-eyed at her. “You–”
Bai Lian’s hand clutches his hair. She smiles lazily. Then she uses tremendous strength to viciously smash his head onto the wall again!
Bam–!
More blood flows out. White Tank Top sees stars in his vision. He’s already lost the ability to fight back. Like a rabbit toy to twist and turn at one’s mercy.
No one doubts her skills. White Tank Top is the strongest fighter on their turf. That’s why he became boss. The other three lackeys shrink to the side.
Bai Lian withdraws her gaze.
Her attention turns back to White Tank Top.
She’s actually a little curious what cigarettes–something so many people in this world smoke–taste like.
In White Tank Top’s terrified gaze, Bai Lian takes his cigarette pack. Unhurried, she draws one out from inside.
Her pretty crimson lips lightly bite down on the cigarette. Eyelashes lazily droop as she gestures for a lackey to light it for her.
The girl’s hair is somewhat messy now. Faint smoke curls from her lips. One hand loosely pinches the cigarette. Her fingers are a glossy white, clean and slender. Her other hand continues gripping White Tank Top’s hair. Blood drips steadily down his face, splattering onto the floor. She casually taps off some ash. “So–”
“Still want protection fees now?”
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