Ji Mian had no time to thank the system this time.
He forced one eye open to look at the person in front of him, whose expression was fierce and ruthless.
The gaze was stubborn and candid, definitely not one prepared to concede or give up. There was a hint of panic, but it wasn’t fear of Duang Zhuang; it was more like a fear of being beaten.
Who the hell is going to hit him!?
Duang Zhuang's knuckles moved slightly as he recalled the threatening words he had just said about “hitting you too,” which Ji Mian took seriously.
In a sense, he had indeed hurt Ji Mian, which was no different from hitting someone.
“Brother…” Ji Mian's dark eyelashes trembled continuously, his tone inexplicably soft, carrying a pleading meaning.
“…”
Duang Zhuang's gaze locked onto Ji Mian's eyes. Ji Mian's fingers were cold as they gently gripped his wrist.
Slowly, Duang Zhuang's fingers loosened, and the violent aura around him gradually calmed.
As he moved his arm, Ji Mian's hand followed his wrist.
Without saying a word, Duang Zhuang turned and walked towards the door. Ji Mian continued to hold his wrist tightly, like a bracelet clinging to him.
As they passed the door, Duang Zhuang glanced at He Haimin and smiled.
“Thanks.”
“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have found Yi Zhang.”
Duang Zhuang's smile was decidedly unusual. He Haimin was startled, unconsciously taking a couple of steps back as he approached.
She glanced at her husband, who was struggling on the floor. Duang Zhuang had previously avoided hitting vital areas, so Yi Zhang hadn’t injured his internal organs, but he still lay on the ground, groaning.
Seeing Yi Zhang in such a pathetic state brought a flicker of barely perceptible satisfaction from revenge to He Hai Min's eyes.
—
The tricycle returned to the front of Duang Zhuang's woodcarving shop. Sun Qi was sitting on the small stool Ji Mian usually used. Upon seeing the two, he waved with his good hand.
However, both of them in the tricycle ignored his enthusiastic greeting.
Duang Zhuang got off the tricycle with a dark expression, while Ji Mian closed the umbrella and quickly jumped out of the cart.
“I'm sorry, brother.. I…” Ji Mian followed behind Duang Zhuang, continuously apologizing.
Duang Zhuang's face darkened further, unaware that he looked like a fierce god at that moment.
Sun Qi was momentarily stunned, then realized something must have happened. He stood up and pretended to be fierce. “Big brother, what did this brat do wrong again!?”
Anticipating that he was about to be beaten, Ji Mian closed his eyes. “I'm sorry, brother it’s my fault.”
“…” Duang Zhuang found it laughable.
Neither He Haimin nor Yi Zhang had made him this furious.
“What happened?” Sun Qi stared wide-eyed. He quickly unbuckled his belt with his unwrapped hand. “Big brother! Let me hit him! I’ll uphold justice!”
He desperately signaled to Ji Mian, implying, “I’ll just put on a show. I’ll go easy on you.”
He looked just like a younger brother secretly protecting his older brother.
Unfortunately, Ji Mian had his eyes closed and couldn’t see him.
Duang Zhuang also didn’t notice Sun Qi’s signals. Hearing his words, he kicked Sun Qi on the shin, not using much force since Sun Qi was still injured.
“Get lost. Did I ask you to hit someone? Is it something you can do?”
Sun Qi was inexplicably kicked, feeling a bit confused.
Duang Zhuang’s gaze returned to Ji Mian, his voice unreadable: “Did I say you did something wrong?”
“… Huh?” Ji Mian slowly opened one eye.
Did he not?
【No, he only said he would hit you if you didn’t let go.】
【…】
Duang Zhuang turned his face away, not wanting to see Ji Mian's innocent and bewildered expression.
He had listened to “I’m sorry” all the way here, and his mood was at its peak of irritation.
In this brat's eyes, was he just a bully who only knew how to exploit him for work?
Sun Qi still didn’t understand the situation, looking even more confused than before. Hadn’t he just been sitting here for two hours? How did the world suddenly change?
Then, his attention was drawn to the two wooden carvings tightly wrapped in cotton cloth in the back of the tricycle.
Sun Qi was taken aback. “Hey, what about the paintings—” Didn’t they sell?
Duang Zhuang didn’t even glance back, throwing out a simple “Smash it” before staring at Ji Mian for a few seconds. He turned and walked straight into the residential building.
As the electronic sound of the door closing echoed, Sun Qi snapped back to reality from his series of surprises.
“Smash, smash it?” He looked at Ji Mian. “What do you mean? Are you really going to smash it?”
Ji Mian shifted his gaze from the tightly closed residential building and slowly nodded. “Mm.”
Leaving these two paintings behind would only make Duang Zhuang feel uneasy.
It should indeed be smashed.
“Alright, alright.” Sun Qi sighed.
Times have changed, and he couldn't keep up. Duang Zhuang was stingy with words, and Ji Mian was tight-lipped and unwilling to divulge others' secrets. He hadn’t received any useful information from either of them.
He jumped into the tricycle and, using his left hand, lifted one of the wooden carvings from the cart. The wood carving was heavy, especially since these two pieces were relatively large.
With one hand unable to exert much strength, Sun Qi struggled to lift it. After finally getting the painting out of the cart, he needed to find a heavy tool to destroy it.
He borrowed a hammer from a nearby household, gripping the handle with his left hand and using his right arm to squeeze the head.
After three or four minutes of hard work, he successfully destroyed the painting, but his right hand was in agony, causing him to yell out in pain.
He panted heavily, realizing he couldn’t go on.
“Ji Mian!”
Ji Mian had been standing at the shop's entrance, watching him smash the painting. Upon hearing Sun Qi call him, he walked over.
“I can’t do it anymore. If I move again, my bones will break again. There’s still one left, so you come do it.”
“…”
Ji Mian looked at the wooden carving wrapped in cotton cloth in the cart, then glanced down at the pile of wood chips on the ground and said, “Okay.”
—
At a little past midnight, Duang Zhuang was awakened by a call from Mu Yu Man.
“Duang Zhuang, are you in the shop?”
“In the shop?” Duang Zhuang sat up. “No.”
On the other end, Mu Yu Man’s voice was tinged with confusion. “I just got back from the hospital and saw the lights still on in the shop. Isn’t it you?”
Mu Yu Man worked as a doctor at the only third-level hospital in the area. It just so happened that she was on the night shift, finishing at midnight and seeing the shop’s lights from afar.
Duang Zhuang's eyebrows raised, and his heart suddenly quickened, sensing something was off.
He grabbed the shirt hanging on the coat rack and replied briefly, “No. Sis, you should go rest. I’ll go check.”
After hanging up, he quickly dressed and went downstairs.
Pushing open the entrance door, the shop was right next to him. Just as Mu Yu Man said, the lights were still on, and it was very quiet inside.
At first, Duang Zhuang thought Ji Mian or Sun Qi had forgotten to turn off the lights when they left. But when he looked through the glass door, his hand that was about to push the door suddenly froze.
The person still in the shop was Ji Mian.
He sat behind the workbench Duang Zhuang usually used, with one of the wooden carvings from earlier that afternoon on the table. A small chisel quietly lay next to the carving on the right.
Ji Mian lowered his head, making it impossible to see his expression.
From time to time, he would touch the leaves on the wood carving, staring at them for a long while before picking up the small chisel and tapping it a couple of times on the leaves he had just touched.
The sound was not loud, not even enough to disturb a passerby.
Duang Zhuang recalled what he had told Sun Qi earlier that day.
—“Smash it.”
Ji Mian had taken over Sun Qi's task; he was smashing the painting. But Duang Zhuang hadn’t expected someone would destroy something in this way.
It turned out the verb “destroy” could also be described with tenderness.
Ji Mian treated Duang Zhuang's painting just like he treated Duang Zhuang himself—with respect and cherishing. It was as if what lay before him was not a piece of wood but a treasured possession he held dear.
A wave of inexplicable emotions surged within Duang Zhuang, leaving him confused.
Duang Zhuang had never tasted the flavor of love. For him, the words “love” had become irrelevant the moment he saw Duang Jin Yan die on the hospital bed.
He had dropped out of school to work in middle school. The youthful turbulence of his adolescence never had the chance to turn into longing and yearning for love, as it was all poured out in blood and sweat.
The summer nights in the south were suffocatingly hot, even late at night, with humid air making it hard to breathe.
At this moment, watching the youth inside the door, Duang Zhuang felt a heaviness in his chest.
By the looks of Ji Mian’s method of smashing the painting, it would take him until the dead of night to destroy it completely. Duang Zhuang couldn’t understand why he didn’t go in to stop him.
He leaned against the wall hidden in the night outside the shop, not pushing the door open.
Accompanied by the occasional “tap tap” sound of the chisel, Duang Zhuang slowly lit a cigarette.
The tiny orange glow was undetectable to the youth inside the shop; that faint light couldn’t even illuminate Duang Zhuang himself.
He stood outside all night, unable to sleep.
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