Chapter 25

Zhang Hu struggled to his feet. After a lifetime of street fighting, he didn’t need a hospital to tell him his ribs were broken. Looking at his men sprawled all over the ground, he couldn’t figure out how that delicate-looking little girl could be so ruthless. She had broken his ribs with a single kick, while back in the day, he had needed to swing an iron rod several times to achieve that effect.

This thought made him glare even more fiercely at Zhao Dazhuang—this was all his fault.

Seeing Zhang Hu’s fierce expression as he walked toward him, Zhao Dazhuang began scrambling backward in a panic. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to stand up and run; his leg had been broken in the earlier fight. He couldn’t even move. As he lay there in terror, the scene replayed in his mind—it hadn’t been a brawl at all, but a one-sided beatdown.

Zhang Hu reached Zhao Dazhuang and stomped hard on his fingers with all his strength. “What was it you said to me before? Said you wanted to settle a score with a high schooler who stole your business? That high schooler has such moves? You think I’ve never been to school and don’t know better?”

Zhao Dazhuang felt his fingers shatter under Zhang Hu’s foot. He screamed in pain but couldn’t lift a finger to fight back.

“She really is a high schooler,” Zhao Dazhuang sobbed, tears and snot running down his face. “She was even carrying a schoolbag!”

Zhang Hu was momentarily stunned, then stomped harder. “Is that what you call a normal high schooler? She took on over twenty of us like it was nothing! Look at my guys—broken arms, legs, ribs—how am I supposed to run things like this?”

Zhang Hu roared a few more curses and extended his right hand to the side. Zhu Qiankun, ever so attentive, quickly placed an iron rod into his hand. Zhang Hu smashed it down hard. “Tell me, who sent you to screw me over like this? You dare mess with me? Are you tired of living?”

Zhao Dazhuang curled up on the ground, beaten so badly he didn’t even have the strength to groan. Just before losing consciousness, he heard Zhang Hu’s interrogation and stared blankly at the sunset in the sky. “Why does that line sound so familiar?”

After venting his anger on Zhao Dazhuang, Zhang Hu leaned on the iron rod and looked around. Over twenty of his men, all in a sorry state. Most were writhing on the ground in agony; the rest were bruised black and blue. The only one unscathed was Zhu Qiankun, who had cleverly kept to the sidelines each time, crouching in the corner and only running off to deliver reports after Qian Jianing had finished her beatings. Maybe she appreciated that he knew his place, so she didn’t bother hitting him.

Zhang Hu glanced at Zhu Qiankun, unsure whether to be angry at his cowardice or his lack of loyalty. Either way, now wasn’t the time to discipline him—he actually needed someone still walking on two legs to run errands. He leaned against a wall and exhaled. “Go find some cars—take everyone to the hospital.”

Zhu Qiankun silently counted—at least five vehicles would be needed. He had just joined Zhang Hu and didn’t know all the rules yet. Seeing how badly everyone had been beaten, he couldn’t help but ask, “Brother Hu, should I call the police?”

Zhang Hu nearly choked in rage. He picked up the rod and whacked Zhu Qiankun across the head several times. “Call the cops? What are we gonna say? Zhang Hu got his ass kicked by a little girl and went crying to the police? How the hell am I supposed to live that down?”

Zhu Qiankun covered his face with his arms, afraid to say another word. When Zhang Hu finally stopped hitting him, he ran out to a phone booth to call the nightclub. Soon, six or seven cars showed up at the alley entrance, and several men came to haul the injured into them.

People cleared out in an instant, leaving only Li Wujun and Zhao Dazhuang lying on the ground. Li Wujun had been elbowed by Qian Jianing earlier and knocked out; he’d just come to as Zhang Hu was beating Zhao Dazhuang. Terrified, he pretended to be dead, not daring to make a sound. After all, he was the one who introduced them.

Touching the lump on his forehead, Li Wujun sat on the ground, nearly in tears. “What the hell is this even? I guess my nightclub’s not opening anymore.”

He picked up a nearby iron rod to use as a crutch and limped back to the restaurant. Li Hong was anxiously waiting by the door. When she saw Li Wujun return with a head full of bruises, she cried out, “Cousin-in-law, quick, get to the back. My cousin’s been crippled!”

Li Hong’s knees gave out as she leaned against the door, wailing, “Who did it? I’m calling the police!”

“Call the police for what?!” Li Wujun quickly clamped his hand over her mouth. “Brother Hu’s guys are all badly injured. He doesn’t dare go after that girl, so he took it all out on my cousin. I’m telling you, if you report this, Zhang Hu will kill him tomorrow. Don’t ask for more trouble.”

Li Hong’s entire body went limp. She sank to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

Li Wujun shook his head with a sigh. “I must’ve been cursed for eight generations to make this introduction for my cousin. Not only did I get beat up, the plan to open the nightclub with Brother Hu is ruined too.” He glanced at Li Hong, who was crying her eyes out, and barely restrained himself from snapping. “Alright, enough. Stop crying. Your husband’s still lying out back.”

Only then did Li Hong come to her senses. She quickly got up and ran into the alley. Li Wujun stayed where he was. Given Zhao Dazhuang’s size, it would take at least three or four people to lift him. He pulled out the brick-sized phone on his waist and directly called an ambulance.

There was only one sizable hospital in downtown Zibo City, so Zhang Hu’s men sent everyone there. The emergency department immediately turned into chaos. Zhang Hu, with two broken ribs, wasn’t even among the more serious cases. The worst-off was Zhang Sanzi, who had tried to harass Qian Jianing—he ended up with two broken arms, one broken leg, and lost eight teeth.

Dr. Zhang Chen, the chief surgeon, called in every doctor and nurse in the department to work overtime. Just as they were finishing one surgery, another ambulance arrived with someone named Zhao Dazhuang. Dr. Zhang quickly had him taken for X-rays. When the images came back, it turned out Zhao Dazhuang had the worst injuries of them all—both arms and one leg broken, plus a comminuted fracture of the right hand.

Looking at the X-rays on the lightboard, Dr. Zhang muttered to himself, “Was this a gang fight or in-fighting?”

The deputy chief tugged his sleeve and checked outside before exhaling in relief. “Shh, not our business. We just treat the patients.”

They stayed busy for a full day and night. All twenty-plus patients had undergone surgery and were moved to the recovery ward. Two days later, Zhao Dazhuang finally regained consciousness, but before he could even mourn his cast-bound limbs, he was scared half to death by a fellow patient.

“Hu-hu-hu… Brother Hu…”

Zhang Hu turned to him with a toothy grin. Zhao Dazhuang’s eyes rolled back, and he passed out again.

***

Qian Jianing was almost home when she noticed Wang Dong and his crew still following her. She stopped and turned around, exasperated. “Why are you all still following me? I’m going back to open the restaurant. No reservation, no dining tonight.”

“Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right.” Wang Dong nodded like a bobblehead, looking at her with profound admiration. “Boss, you’re incredible. Not only is your cooking top-notch, but your fighting skills are amazing too. You’re the first person to beat up Brother Hu like that in Zibo City.”

Qian Jianing didn’t feel pleased at the compliment. Instead, she looked a little troubled. “Their fighting skills are too weak. Not one of them could even withstand a single move from me. I was hoping to find someone to test my hands on.” She glanced at Wang Dong, and suddenly her eyes lit up. “Aren’t you from the underworld or something? Do you know any legit fighters? If you do, introduce them to Zhao Dazhuang so he can send someone to challenge me.”

Thinking of Zhao Dazhuang lying flat on the ground, Wang Dong silently felt a twinge of sympathy. “Boss, I don’t think Zhao Dazhuang has the guts to hire anyone anymore. And I doubt Brother Hu is going to let him off the hook either.”

Wang Kun nodded quietly. “Brother Hu’s always been untouchable in Zibo City, but now that you’ve beaten him like that, he can’t come after you so he’ll definitely take it out on Zhao Dazhuang. I don’t think you should expect him to send anyone again—he’s probably scared out of his wits.”

Qian Jianing sighed helplessly. “No guts and no skills—what kind of villain is that? Boring.”

“Exactly, exactly,” Wang Dong chimed in. “People like that deserve to get beaten.”

“Alright, I’m heading home.” Qian Jianing gave them a look. “Thanks for what you did this time, but don’t take on jobs like this in the future. If you run into someone else like me who can actually fight, no one’s going to be there to save you.”

Watching her walk away, Wang Dong was filled with emotion. “She’s worried about us, isn’t she? See that? That’s what it means to be a real pro. That’s the idol I look up to.”

“Bro, didn’t you almost flip her table the other day?” Li Qiang joked. “You really amaze me.”

Thinking back to that night, Wang Dong broke into a cold sweat. Luckily, his craving for good food made him keep his mouth shut, and the boss only scared him by crushing a pair of chopsticks instead of beating him up. Otherwise, he might’ve ended up worse than Zhang Hu. He threw his arms around Wang Kun and Li Qiang’s shoulders. “Thanks, you two. You saved my arms and legs that day.”

Wang Kun burst out laughing. “Saying thanks isn’t enough. You gotta treat us to dinner at the boss’s place this Sunday.”

Wang Dong pulled out a wad of cash and waved it. “No problem. I got money—order anything you want.”

***

After washing her hands and face, Qian Jianing went to the restaurant. She had already prepped the ingredients and marinated dishes the day before. One pot of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall had been simmering for forty-eight hours. Knowing her family hadn’t tasted it yet, she made a small extra batch to enjoy with them after closing tonight.

Wang Zhenhe, a secretary at Zibo City government office, rarely left work on time because he often accompanied the mayor on field inspections.

But today, he left right after work, briefcase in hand. The reason? His uncle, an official with vice-ministerial rank in Imperial Capital, had returned home to visit. His father had reserved a banquet to welcome him.

Pulling out the note with the restaurant address, Wang Zhenhe frowned. It was located on a run-down street. He vaguely recalled it being filled with generic old courtyards—nothing like a proper restaurant.

His brows furrowed more. An official of his uncle’s stature should be dining at Zibo City Hotel, not some little family-run place. What would his uncle think?

Glancing at his watch, there were less than ten minutes left until dinner. He hurried over, intending to check it out first. If the restaurant wasn’t up to par, he’d borrow a car and redirect everyone to Zibo City Hotel.

At the end of Dongyi Street, Wang Zhenhe stopped and looked up at the signboard. In bold golden letters against a black background, it read: “Qian Xiaomi’s Shop.”

“What kind of ridiculous name is that?” His frown tightened. Straightening his shirt collar, he stepped into the courtyard.

To his surprise, the courtyard was serene. It was already September, yet the grapevines were still heavy with purple clusters, and the jujube trees were laden with bright red fruit.

Oddly, Wang Zhenhe’s initial irritation began to dissipate. He even wandered over to the water tank to look at the koi swimming inside and absentmindedly tossed some fish food in.

“Zhenhe, when did you get here? Why aren’t you inside yet?” His father, Wang Shouren, walked out and was surprised to see his son calmly feeding the fish.

Wang Zhenhe snapped out of it, suddenly aware of what he was doing, a trace of embarrassment flashing across his face.

Wang Shouren waved the pruning shears in his hand. “Your uncle is already here. Go accompany him. I’m going to cut a bunch of grapes for your uncle to try. I tell you, Boss Qian’s grapes are sweeter and juicier than any store-bought ones.”

“Dad,” Wang Zhenhe pulled him aside and lowered his voice, “Uncle holds a high post—how could you bring him to a place like this? At the very least, we should’ve gone to Zibo City Hotel. What’s he going to think of us?”

“Pfft…” Wang Shouren clicked his tongue and gave him a sidelong glance. “Quit with your attitude. You think I’d bring your uncle somewhere shabby? I brought him here precisely because he’s important. I wouldn’t have bothered for anyone else.”

When he saw that his son still wanted to argue, Wang Shouren rolled his eyes. “Do you realize how hard it was for me to get tonight’s reservation? I fought through wave after wave; had to edge out Uncle Li and elbow Aunt Zhang just to grab this spot. Liu from across the street even got into a fistfight with me over it.”

Veins bulged on Wang Zhenhe’s forehead. Uncle Liu was their Party Secretary’s father.

Wang Shouren waved him off, clearly impatient. “Alright, cut it out with the attitude. Go inside and chat with your uncle. Don’t act so uppity—eating at Zibo City Hotel doesn’t make you a big shot.”

Too flustered to spar with his father, Wang Zhenhe hurried over to the faucet, washed his hands, and then stepped into the room.

The first thing he noticed was how comfortable the place felt. The hot, muggy weather had been suffocating lately, yet the interior was cool and pleasant—no chilly drafts, just a perfect balance. He looked up at the air conditioner and thought, strangely, that this restaurant’s unit felt better than those in luxury hotels.

He didn’t have time to ponder. Standing on tiptoe, he searched for his uncle, Wang Shoucheng. This place didn’t use private rooms—they’d just sectioned off tables with tall green plants, making it hard to see anyone.

Wang Shouren walked in holding a bunch of grapes, shook his head at his clueless son, and pointed. “Why don’t you just ask? He’s over there.” Then he went over to the kitchen pass and handed the grapes and scissors through. “Xiaomi, wash these for the old man.”

Qian Jianing accepted them with a nod. She quickly washed the grapes and plated them nicely. Wang Shouren proudly brought them to the table.

Seeing this, Wang Zhenhe felt embarrassed. “What kind of place is this? Making customers serve themselves?”

Wang Shouren rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you see there are no waiters here?”

Zhenhe was left speechless. Afraid this might look like poor hospitality, he quickly turned to his uncle. “Uncle, maybe we should go to Zibo City Hotel. It’s quiet and has private rooms.”

“No need,” Wang Shoucheng replied, sipping tea. “This place is quite unique. No need to switch.”

Before Wang Zhenhe could say more, a girl in chef whites and a tall hat walked over holding a clay pot. She placed it gently on the table and lifted the lid.

Steaming hot fragrance instantly filled the air.

Wang Zhenhe completely forgot what he was going to say, even forgot about impressing his uncle. He stared at the pot, eyes wide, seeing nothing but the rising steam.

“What is that? Smells amazing.” He gulped.

Qian Jianing set down some soup spoons and bowls. “This is the Buddha Jumps Over the Wall Grandpa Wang reserved a month ago. It’s been simmering for forty-eight hours.”

Thinking of how he’d just offended his father, Wang Zhenhe’s head pounded. He awkwardly coughed twice and turned to Wang Shouren. “Dad, how did you find such a great place? I’ve never tasted anything that smells this good!”

Wang Shouren huffed proudly. “I found it, and you don’t get to eat it tonight. You can only look!”

Wang Zhenhe’s face turned bright red. “You really are my biological dad!”