Chapter Thirty-Four: Stirring Up Trouble

A few men gathered around Cui Yue, grinning maliciously. Yang Liu, seeing how they bullied Cui Yue with their numbers, worried he might suffer and quietly tugged at the corner of his shirt. Cui Yue didn’t even turn his head; with a cold snort, he stared fearlessly at the man in the striped sailor shirt before him. The man in the striped shirt glared back viciously, but Cui Yue met his gaze head-on. Their eyes clashed as if sparks flew invisibly between them—the tension so thick it was ready to snap at any moment.

At last, the man in the sailor shirt lost his patience. With both hands, he hoisted his bicycle’s front wheel and swung it at Cui Yue. Cui Yue quickly pushed Yang Liu behind him, while the others watched with sly, expectant smiles, eager to see Cui Yue’s misfortune.

At that critical moment, a thunderous shout broke the air.
“What do you think you’re doing? All of you, what’s this nonsense? You’re out of line!”

Everyone froze in place, startled by the roar, and turned to look. The sailor shirt’s bicycle wheel hung in midair, still spinning lazily, a mere foot from Cui Yue’s head.

Zhang Hu strode over from the security booth, hands on his hips, radiating authority.
“Damn it, you little bastards! Don’t you have any proper work to do? Always stirring up trouble—what, you want to spar with me now?”
He cursed as he undid the buttons of his jacket.

Seeing Zhang Hu from the security department, the crowd shrank back behind the man in the sailor shirt, their grins vanishing, every one of them falling silent.

The man in the sailor shirt slowly set his wheel down, eyes still locked challengingly on Cui Yue.

“What, you want to stir up trouble in the factory?”
Zhang Hu planted himself in front of Cui Yue, his voice booming like thunder, fists clenched so tight they cracked.

The man in the sailor shirt feigned indifference, his tone light and mocking.
“Chief Zhang, is this your new recruit? He’s got quite the attitude.”

“Feng Tao, you can’t go a single day without causing trouble in the factory. Can’t you behave for once?”

“Alright, since Chief Zhang has spoken, I’ll keep it down for a few days.”
The man in the sailor shirt grinned slyly, playing the rascal to the hilt.

“Enough. All of you, get lost! The shift’s over, still hanging around—waiting for me to lock the gates? Move!”
At Zhang Hu’s roar, the gang finally mounted their bikes and pedaled out of the factory.

As he reached the gate, the man in the sailor shirt shot a venomous glare back at Cui Yue, lips moving in a silent threat—no sound, but the meaning clear: “You’ll regret this.” Cui Yue only looked on, face defiant, unafraid.

Zhang Hu, seeing the troublemakers gone, turned to Yang Liu.
“Yang, girl, what’s wrong? That Feng Tao harassing you again?”

Tears shimmered in Yang Liu’s eyes as she hung her head, silent. Zhang Hu didn’t need to ask further; he knew what had happened and tried to comfort her.
“It’s alright, nothing to worry about. Go on home. I’ll have a word with old Zhang from Production One, let him straighten out those punks—they’re getting out of hand.”

Yang Liu nodded quietly, then looked up at Cui Yue, embarrassed.
“Thank you for today, Cui Yue. I’m sorry for causing you trouble.”

Cui Yue, gazing at her delicate, beautiful face, felt his entire chest swell with emotion.
“It’s nothing. Don’t mention it. If he bothers you again, just let me know.”

Yang Liu nodded softly, pushing her bike out the gate.

Hey, stop staring—she’s been gone for a good mile already.

I wasn’t...

Big talk, calling it nothing—do you even know who you were up against today?

I don’t care who he is. I’m not afraid of him.

“Hmph, you don’t know the first thing. That man in the sailor shirt is the leader of those troublemakers—name’s Feng Tao, son of Deputy Director Feng. Ever since he was a kid, he’s been a troublemaker, and as he grew up, he only got worse, practically a thug. He’s made enough mistakes to nearly end up in jail, and the small stuff never stops. In the factory, he does whatever he pleases—no one dares cross him. Of course, there’s more to it: his father, Director Feng, is rumored to be old Director Chen’s successor. As soon as Chen retires, Feng will take over.”

Only now did Cui Yue realize what kind of background this scoundrel had—a factory princeling, a parasite among the working class. He wasn’t entirely unmoved, but he wasn’t afraid either. Nothing angered him more than men bullying women. The chivalry from his books compelled him to step forward. He refused to back down.

“No one dares cross him? I don’t buy it. Zhang, I see you’re not afraid of him at all. You’re the first, and I’ll be the second.”

“You brat, of course I’m not afraid. Who do you think I am? He wouldn’t last a minute against me.”
Zhang Hu sneered.

After a pause, Zhang Hu lowered his voice.
“Still, Cui Yue, don’t get careless. That kid’s sneaky. He won’t dare much in the factory, but be careful outside. If anything happens, come to me. If I don’t make him eat dirt, I’m not Zhang Hu.”

Cui Yue nodded, unfazed. If Feng Tao wanted trouble, so be it: if someone wrongs me, I’ll answer in kind.

As soon as he entered the security office, Zhang Hao hurried over.
“Hey, Master Cui, what were you thinking getting mixed up with Feng Tao? You bored out of your mind?”

Cui Yue ignored him, expression saying, “Mind your own business.”

Zhang Hao grew anxious and grabbed him.
“Don’t you know what’s good for you? I’m telling you, Feng Tao is no good—he’s capable of anything. You could get seriously hurt; do you understand?”

Cui Yue still said nothing, burying himself in a copy of “Flowers of Sin” on the table.

Zhang Hao nearly exploded, snatching the book from Cui Yue and yelling,
“I’m being serious here! Listen, you can’t mess with Feng Tao. I know some people—let’s set up a banquet, invite Feng Tao, and let’s settle this...”

At that, Cui Yue bristled. “What? Make peace with that bastard? I’d rather die a hundred times than bow to someone like him. Listen, Zhang Hao, if you go behind my back to talk peace with Feng Tao, we’re finished. Don’t ever call me your friend again.”

With that, Cui Yue stood, grabbed his jacket, and slammed the door as he left.

Zhang Hao watched him go, muttering,
“How can he be so stubborn, so bull-headed? Sigh.”

He let out a deep sigh.

The days that followed passed peacefully enough. Feng Tao kept a low profile, not daring to bother Yang Liu—perhaps because Zhang Hu had spoken to old Zhang, the supervisor of Workshop One, to keep those troublemakers in check. Feng Tao merely spread word that he’d make Cui Yue pay, but took no real action. When their paths crossed at the gate, he’d shoot Cui Yue a toothy, provocative grin.

Cui Yue never backed down, always returning the glare, fearless, his expression practically daring Feng Tao to make a move. In spirit, he gave Feng Tao no ground at all.