Side Story, Chapter Two: The Medium of Love

The passionate kiss lasted for three minutes until Zhang Yuxi, as if struck by an electric current, shoved Zhang Jixue away and broke free from his embrace. "What are you doing!"

Zhang Jixue looked at the woman he adored, forcing a smile onto his cold face. "I love you!" He reached out to pull her back into his arms.

*Slap!*

A heavy, resounding slap landed squarely on Zhang Jixue’s handsome face.

Zhang Jixue paused, touched his cheek, and nodded. "If it’s worth it to kiss you, then fine. Are you satisfied? If not, go ahead and hit me again."

Zhang Yuxi looked at Jixue with a bitter smile, her eyes welling up with tears that finally began to fall like beads on a string. "I’m begging you, Jixue, please stop torturing me, okay?"

"Zhang Yuxi, if I don't marry you in this lifetime, I will die with my eyes wide open."

Zhang Yuxi sneered. "Can you grow up? You’re twenty years old; stop acting like a child. The way you talk, it’s like kids playing house."

Seeing that his grand declarations of love were useless, Jixue was suddenly left speechless.

"Boss, that’s them."

Seeing that she had silenced Jixue, Zhang Yuxi turned to leave, only to find thirty or forty young men standing outside the pavilion. They were dressed like street thugs, armed with an assortment of "weapons": table legs, kitchen knives, fruit knives, daggers, wooden clubs, and even dry tree branches—clearly not a professional gang. Their leader was a middle-aged man with a slicked-back hairstyle, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and a baseball bat in his hand. He wore flashy clothes, the quintessential look of a Northeast neighborhood boss. Standing next to him was the fat man who had been beaten up by Zhang Yuxi and Zhang Jixue earlier.

The Northeast boss clicked his tongue, his Fushun accent thick: "Damn, this chick is actually quite a looker. And you let a little brat beat you up? What a loser!"

"Boss, that white-haired kid has some moves. Don’t underestimate him."

The boss cursed and walked toward the two in the pavilion. "So, you two are the ones who beat up my little brother?"

Zhang Jixue frowned. "What of it? Do you want a taste, too? He claimed he slept with my woman. If it were you, would you just stand there like a cuckold if someone slept with your wife?"

The Northeast boss’s face darkened. He looked at the fat man behind him and sneered, "Little white-haired punk, you’re pretty proud of yourself for sleeping with your own sister, aren't you?"

The gang behind him erupted into raucous laughter, jeering and muttering among themselves.

Zhang Yuxi felt a surge of anxiety; if this rumor spread, how would she ever face her school? She stepped forward. "Sir, don't listen to this child's nonsense. He just saw his sister being harassed and acted out of emotion, surely you understand that? We admit we beat your subordinate. Tell us how much money you want, and we’ll pay it. Let’s turn hostility into friendship; we all have to live in this city, right?"

The Northeast boss looked at Zhang Yuxi, leering at her up and down with a lecherous expression. "Oh, little lady, you’re quite the beauty! We can settle this matter today, but you’ll have to come walk with me, and I’ll teach you how to serve a man." As he spoke, he reached out to touch her.

*Slap!*

Before his hand could reach her, Zhang Jixue caught his wrist, stepped behind him, and with a swift motion, threw the Northeast boss out of the pavilion.

The boss landed heavily, scrambling to his feet. "Damn you, white-hair! I’m going to kill you!" He waved his hand. "Brothers, get them!"

At his command, thirty or forty men surged forward like a tide. Zhang Jixue frowned. "Yuxi, hide behind me. I’ve got this."

"Run! You’ll be killed!" Zhang Yuxi cried out in panic.

As three or four men reached them, swinging clubs and iron pipes at his head, Zhang Jixue realized the danger. He shielded Zhang Yuxi with his body, covering his head with his arms as dull thuds rained down on him.

"Jixue!" Zhang Yuxi screamed. She grabbed a brick from the ground and began swinging it wildly at the thugs.

Her outburst briefly startled the three men, but they were vastly outnumbered by dozens more. Realizing the situation was dire and seeing Jixue struggling to stand from the pain, Zhang Yuxi pulled a fruit knife from her pocket and pressed the blade against her own throat. "Back off, damn you, or you’ll have a murder charge on your hands!"

The Northeast boss was stunned. He was merely a small-time thug, and even a real gangster wouldn't dare risk a murder charge. He shouted, "Move back, let them go!"

His men were relieved to step aside, clearing a path.

Zhang Yuxi sneered, holding the knife in her right hand and helping Jixue with her left. The two stumbled out of the park.

Looking back to ensure they were safe, Zhang Yuxi let out a long breath and put away the knife. She checked her phone; it was past ten o'clock, too late to return to her dormitory. She checked her wallet—her ID and bank card were there. She looked at Zhang Jixue. "The antique market must be closed by now, right?"

"You can't get back to your dorm. Come with me to the club."

Seeing Jixue smiling despite his severe injuries, Zhang Yuxi felt a warmth in her heart. She knew that smile was meant only for her. She smiled back. "I'm tired. Let's just find somewhere nearby. There's a 138 Inn ahead; we'll make do for the night."

Five minutes later, they arrived at the inn and checked into a room with a large bed.

Once inside, Zhang Yuxi locked the door and sat on the soft bed. "Sit down. Let me look at your arm."

Despite his words, Jixue felt awkward being in a hotel room with the woman he loved. He sat down beside her, looking embarrassed.

Zhang Yuxi noticed his flushed face, smiled, and gently supported his injured arm. "Does it hurt?"

"No."

"How could it not? Stop trying to be a hero. Your shoulder is dislocated. Take off your shirt; I’ll pop it back in for you."

Jixue panicked at the thought of undressing. "No, no, that’s not necessary."

Zhang Yuxi laughed, ignored his protests, and pulled off his leather jacket and white shirt, revealing his pale, bandage-wrapped torso that was sure to draw any girl's gaze.

"Don't just stare. Lift your shoulder."

Jixue blushed, unable to meet her eyes, and lifted his shoulder slightly.

"Hold on!" Zhang Yuxi shoved his armpit upward with a sudden, forceful motion. A sharp *pop* echoed, followed by a muffled groan from Jixue. His arm, which had been immobile, was now functional again.

"Move it around. See if there’s any problem."

Jixue stood up and rotated his shoulder. "It’s basically fine. Just some surface wounds, nothing to worry about."

Looking at the bruises on his arms, tears streamed down Zhang Yuxi’s face again.

"What's wrong? I'm fine," Jixue comforted her, stroking her hair as she leaned into his embrace.

"Jixue, what is it that you like about me?"

"I don't know."

"Jixue, I... I think I’ve truly fallen for you," she whispered.

"Then what is it that you like about me?"

"Maybe it was just that one moment. The feeling was right, so I just fell for you."

"Oh. Then I must love you even more than you love me."

The two lay on the bed, talking for a long time, eventually leaning in to share a kiss.

Perhaps all love requires a medium—be it wine or something else. But love is never easy. A single misunderstanding or moment of negligence can shatter happiness. Like this story: without Zhang Yuxi, there would be no future "Ghost-Face Zhang, the Third Master," yet he had lost her forever.