The turn of events took everyone by surprise.
Suzhan Yue had squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear watching Cheng Yu get hurt. Yet after waiting a long moment, she heard not a single cry of pain from him.
She slowly opened her eyes. No blood splattered the scene. No mangled flesh met her gaze. Instead, Tiger Cub’s face was frozen in utter disbelief.
His blade hadn’t pierced Cheng Yu’s body at all.
It had only sunk in shallowly before being stopped. Tiger Cub roared in disbelief:
“No… this—this can’t be!”
Distracted by his own shock, his grip weakened. Cheng Yu seized the instant—wrenching free, he jerked his knee upward and slammed it into Tiger Cub’s abdomen.
Already dizzy, Tiger Cub now reeled, utterly disoriented.
Through the haze, he felt the boy’s cold chuckle. Then a sharp chop—palm-edge crashing down on his neck.
Darkness swallowed his vision. He collapsed.
Cheng Yu glanced at the butterfly knife still clutched in Tiger Cub’s hand. A faint smile touched his lips. He spoke to the unconscious thug, voice low and unreadable:
“A blade like this? You thought it could hurt me?”
“At the very least… you’d need a *cleaver*.”
[Host has completed the task. +1 Intimidation Point awarded.]
Cheng Yu no longer cared what “Intimidation Points” meant. He exhaled sharply, slumping to the ground, gasping for breath.
If the system confirmed the task was done… this guy wouldn’t wake up again.
Relief crashed over him, followed by bone-deep exhaustion and throbbing pain. He longed to collapse right there and sleep for three days straight.
But a figure rushed forward, jolting him back to awareness.
“Lin Jie! Lin Jie, are you okay? Are you hurt? His knife—it stabbed you! Will you—”
“Nonsense.”
Cheng Yu flicked Suzhan Yue’s forehead, cutting off her frantic imagination.
Then, with a sigh, he reached into his jacket’s inner pocket and pulled out an object.
“…My… phone?”
Suzhan Yue stared, stunned. The screen was shattered, but she recognized it instantly.
“After he finished his call, I put it here so I wouldn’t mix it up with mine,” Cheng Yu explained, his hand unconsciously pressing over his heart. “Turns out… his knife hit *your* phone first.”
He met her eyes, half-amused, half-relieved. “Suzhan Yue… I owe you thanks. For trusting my plan. For saving me. For saving us both.”
The words felt awkward on his tongue—but they struck deep. Suzhan Yue’s cheeks flushed crimson. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. A strange warmth swirled in her chest.
“…We shouldn’t linger,” Cheng Yu winced, shifting the mood. “Call the police. I’ll find something to tie him up—in case he wakes.”
Her phone was useless. Cheng Yu handed her his own, then struggled to his feet, scanning the area for bindings.
Suzhan Yue numbly dialed emergency services. The phone pressed to her ear, her mind replayed his words—their weight, his expression, the warmth blooming in her chest.
*So this… is what it feels like to truly help a friend?*
……
The rest was routine. Cheng Yu bound Tiger Cub’s limbs with scrap wire. They waited for the police.
At the station, Cheng Yu spun a practiced story: they’d been violently attacked by a knife-wielding thug. Self-defense. He made sure to mention the attacker’s claim—membership in the “Azure Blade Society.”
The name made the officers exchange sharp glances. Combined with the weapon evidence, it spared Cheng Yu and Suzhan Yue prolonged questioning. A brief statement, and they were released.
Midnight had long passed. Cheng Yu noticed Suzhan Yue wincing, her face tight with pain.
“Your ankle?”
She nodded like a bobbing chick. “I… twisted it when I fell running. It hurts.”
Her pout tugged at him. Leaving her alone was unthinkable—not after tonight. Who knew what “Dragon Cubs” or “Leopard Pups” might snatch her next?
He sighed, crouching before her. “Get on. I’ll carry you.”
Human connections were strange.
That morning, she’d wanted his friendship.
Hours ago, she’d despised him.
Now, watching him kneel, a deep calm washed over her. She climbed onto his back without hesitation.
*So light.*
Like carrying silk. Only the soft press of her body and the smoothness of her skin registered.
The midnight wind swept through the capital, untangling strands of her hair. They brushed Cheng Yu’s cheek, carrying a faint scent of peach blossoms—sweet, romantic. His pulse quickened.
Then, her lips neared his ear. A whisper:
“Big liar.”
“…”
Goosebumps prickled his skin, but he kept walking. “How so?”
“You lied all night. First, telling him we were ‘friends.’ Then making *me* lie so you could ambush him. Even your police report… you only told half the truth. Skipped the park entirely.”
“Aren’t you a liar?”
“…Yeah. I’m a liar.”
He tried to end it. She pressed on, voice small:
“Then… was what you said at the bar… a lie too?”
“…”
“Answer.”
“…Believe what you want.”
“Oh…”
Silence stretched. Then, softly, hopefully:
“So… can I think you *do* want to be my friend?”
“…”
No reply came.
But this time, she didn’t mind. She tightened her arms around him—and laughed.
Clear. Crisp. Like silver bells ringing across a dawn-lit meadow.
For the first time, Suzhan Yue realized: wanting his friendship wasn’t the only feeling stirring in her heart.
