The lights above the ring were somewhat dim.

The crowd behind him was boisterous, cheering his name with raised arms. Faintly, he heard the pop of a champagne bottle. Lin Ran silently counted in his mind.

Truthfully, there was no need to count. His opponent wouldn't be getting up. He'd just taken an elbow strike to the ribs and now lay twitching on the ground. He'd likely need to rest in a hospital bed for a while.

The female referee, dressed in a white spaghetti-strap top, counted to ten. She took his hand and declared him the winner of the match.

Cheers and Curses Along the Stands

Lin Ran ignored the chatter, stepping off the ring and heading straight to the showers. He changed back into his white shirt, buttoning each one slowly, leaving the last two undone. His phone buzzed—a notification for the 700-yuan payout from the exhibition match.

He exited the showers, entered the elevator, and pressed the button for the third floor. The ring was on the fourth floor of this building; downstairs lay the nightclub. Lin Ran walked in alone, scanning the dim, hazy space until he spotted his destination—a corner booth.

The referee from earlier, Xu Zhi, swayed slightly in the booth. A dozen flavored soda drinks sat before her. The mood was warm, the lights low and dreamy. Lin Ran slid in beside her and tapped her shoulder.

Xu Zhi turned. Her long lashes and pale skin caught the faint light, almost dazzling. It was summer, so she wore a tiny white tank top, exposing her slender waist, and tight shorts that barely covered her long, pale legs—currently propped carelessly on the table.

Lin Ran had always thought Xu Zhi should change her name. That poetic, delicate name clashed with her mature figure and bold personality. He’d mentioned it once. She’d shot back, eyes wide: "You look like a pale, sickly rat who never sees sunlight—yet you fight exhibition matches in bars?" He’d had no reply.

They weren’t close. Six months ago, Lin Ran signed up for these matches here, earning 700 to 1,500 yuan per fight. Xu Zhi had started as atmosphere staff in this club before becoming a referee—really just wearing skimpy outfits and flashing sweet smiles at the crowd. Just smiling.

They grew familiar after one match where Lin Ran took a punch that made his nose bleed. He won, but looked messy. Xu Zhi handed him a warm towel. Later, he joked, "If you want to get rich, bet on me."

Over the next six months, he won fifty-six fights straight. Never lost. Even when he barely stood after a nine-count, he held on. Xu Zhi’s winnings dwindled as his odds dropped. After work, they’d often grab drinks downstairs.

"Who’s treating tonight?" The club was deafening. Lin Ran leaned close to her ear. Xu Zhi grabbed his shoulder, whispering back, "You are, obviously!"

"Why?"

"No reason!" Her voice was cool, but she was lively—a playful girl who radiated mature charm. Lin Ran was a year older, yet looked younger, like a curious college freshman. (He’d graduated high school four years ago.)

Fine. He wouldn’t argue. He’d just been paid; the booth’s minimum spend wouldn’t break him. The drinks were half-free anyway. Xu Zhi stopped swaying, grabbing dice to challenge him shot for shot.

Soda wouldn’t get anyone drunk—just bloated. But tonight, Xu Zhi seemed tipsy fast. After two drinks, she leaned against him, clinging tight, head buried. They said a twenty-second hug released hormones that boosted affection. True or not, Lin Ran didn’t mind. Her scent—faint, floral—was the perfume he’d gifted her for her birthday. She wore it daily; you had to lean in close to catch it.

So he leaned closer. Her pale neck glowed before him, oddly tempting. She felt his warm breath and lifted her head slowly, eyes hazy. "What? Gonna kiss me?"

"I was just wondering… why are you this drunk after only a few bottles?"

"Bad mood," she muttered, turning away.

"Oh." Lin Ran didn’t pry. At his reminder, Xu Zhi decided bad moods meant more drinking. She sat up, clinking glasses until all twenty-four bottles were empty.

Human stomachs were miraculous.

"Dance with me downstairs!" Xu Zhi grabbed his shoulders, pressing close. Lin Ran felt her soft chest brush his. He shook his head. "You know… I don’t like it."

She wrapped both arms around his neck, gazing at him like a sulking cat. He stayed firm. So she stood, straddling his lap, gently hugging his neck. Her eyes sparkled, pleading like a child’s. "Please?" Her voice was soft, sweet.

"Fine," he relented. Xu Zhi kissed his cheek with a loud smack, then hopped off, dragging him toward the dance floor. She held him close as heavy beats pounded. Lin Ran hated the noise.

His mind wandered—he marveled at his focus amid the chaos. Her waist felt supple, strong. She must train hard; she’d even sent him a video of her doing the splits once. A capable girl.

He drifted until Xu Zhi tried to kiss him. He pulled back, refusing. She shot him a resentful glare, then bit his shoulder hard instead.

…Whatever.

The club’s roar wore on both. Past midnight, they stepped out together.

………………………………

Rain fell. Cool drops touched Lin Ran’s nose. The pavement gleamed, slick. Xu Zhi frowned slightly—her white canvas shoes would be a pain to clean. When the first taxi pulled over, Lin Ran ushered her in.

"I’d still give you a perfect score tonight," Xu Zhi teased, patting his shoulder before ducking inside. She waved goodbye. Lin Ran waved back.

The rain poured steadily. He wasn’t rushing home. Under a cake shop’s awning, he sat, pulling a cigarette from his shirt pocket. He lit it; smoke curled into the rain, vanishing.

If not daydreaming, he’d scroll his phone.

The day’s hottest news: The Alliance’s fourth Sorceress hunt succeeded. Two-thirds of the Sorceress organization were killed on-site; the rest captured wounded. The Sorceress herself—severely injured but escaped—had a five-million-yuan bounty. Her photo glared from the screen.

Lin Ran stared. She was stunning, looking eighteen or nineteen. Jet-black hair, crimson eyes—like an anime heroine stepped into reality. Yet she was The Alliance’s top target, an S Rank criminal rumored to have killed thousands. A terrifying powerhouse.

He scrolled on. Good news, he supposed… Let her escape. The world couldn’t get much worse anyway.

Two centuries ago, people with strange abilities emerged, shattering global order. A hundred years later, The Alliance formed—enforcing peace, curbing chaos. But whispers persisted: tales of ability users slaughtering crowds, shrugging off bullets, even rocket launchers. Smashing walls with bare fists. After two hundred years, it still felt new.

Lin Ran didn’t dwell on that world. He was just a nobody fighting exhibition matches. High school dropout. Two years out. Boxing for cash, wasting time alone at home. No social skills. No friends. No ties.

At least, that’s how it was now. His thoughts broke at a soft *meow*. He turned. A sleek black cat trotted under the awning. Its fur was smooth, clean. It paused beside him, eyeing his half-smoked cigarette, then *meowed* again.

Lin Ran stubbed out the butt. "Stray?" He chuckled, reaching to scratch its head. The cat flinched but he gently lifted it by the scruff. "Oh—a girl." Her tail hid her tiny pink pads; claws peeked out.

"Hungry?" He poked her belly. "Wait here. I’ll get food."

He carried her to a nearby McDonald’s. Setting her down outside, he bought chicken nuggets. The cat watched him through the glass, eyes deep and bright.

Lin Ran returned, walking to a closed shop’s awning. He peeled the crispy coating off a nugget, ate the skin, then tore the meat into small pieces on his palm. The cat followed, staring at his pale hand. Hesitating, she finally licked the pieces into her mouth.

She’d been starving for days.