Zhang Ning subtly elbowed the person beside him. When Guyen turned his head, Zhang Ning gave a slight nod of his chin and shot him a meaningful look.

Guyen gave a barely perceptible shake of his head, signaling him not to act rashly.

The vocational school students escorted Guyen’s trio through winding paths, the crowd thinning with every step.

Ten minutes after leaving the school gate, the group finally stopped. Guyen lifted his gaze, scanning their surroundings.

They stood near an old residential compound. Pedestrians were scarce. A few open storefronts dotted the area, all deserted.

“You got the guts to take this on, but not the guts to follow?” A boy with wine-red hair and ear piercings lit a cigarette. After exhaling a cloud of smoke, he fixed Guyen with a challenging stare.

“Lead the way?” Guyen arched a brow, his expression utterly casual.

“Fine. Guyen, you’ve got balls.” Wang Chengwen kept the cigarette dangling from his lips as he turned toward a narrow alley between buildings.

“Who the hell do you think you’re showing attitude to?” Zhang Ning scoffed, shoving Zhao Zhuoyang’s arm. “Bro Yang, shall we?”

Zhao Zhuoyang stayed silent. He’d been quiet since leaving school. Without a word, he strode into the alley first.

“He’s acting weird today,” Zhang Ning muttered, scratching the back of his head as he glanced at Guyen.

Guyen lifted his left hand to his neck, rolling it side to side. Then he stretched his long legs forward. “You’re still young.”

“What’s with you two?” Zhang Ning was completely lost but hurried after them.

Jiang Juan stood far behind. He couldn’t hear their conversation, but seeing Guyen’s trio enter the alley, he cursed their arrogance under his breath. He frowned toward the distant school gates, then chose to follow.

Inside the alley, buildings blocked the sunlight. The air hung thick with damp, musty smells. Wang Chengwen’s group waited at the exit.

“Guyen, I heard you’re the boss at Jiayuan. Just these three?” Wang Chengwen flicked ash from his cigarette, sizing them up.

“Boss? It’s 2019. Still using that term?” A faint smirk played on Guyen’s lips.

“Fine.” Wang Chengwen said no more. He tossed his half-smoked cigarette, grinding it under his shoe. Then he stepped right up to Guyen.

“I want to date Tang Yuanyuan.”

“She’s too young for you. You’re not a match.” Guyen’s tone stayed calm.

“No problem. Once we’re together, she’ll loosen up. That’s how it works.” Wang Chengwen shrugged carelessly.

“She’s like a little sister to us three.”

“Got it.” Wang Chengwen nodded. He pulled out his cigarette pack and offered one to Guyen.

“You nod, and this ends. We’ll be family after today.” As he spoke, his friends closed in behind him, silently locking eyes with Guyen.

Guyen stared at the cigarette in Wang Chengwen’s hand. After a beat, he laughed.

“Too cheap. I don’t smoke these.” Guyen’s grin turned sharp, his dark brows lifting with defiant arrogance.

“Fine. Fine.” Wang Chengwen nodded. Suddenly, he flung the cigarette away and jabbed Guyen’s chest with his right hand.

“Too cheap? Not a match? Playing hero? Spitting on my goodwill?” Each word came with a hard shove to Guyen’s chest, backing him against the wall.

“The hell do you think you’re touching?!” Zhang Ning’s temper flared instantly. He strained forward, neck tendons taut.

The remaining vocational students surrounded Zhang Ning and Zhao Zhuoyang, fists clenched.

Zhao Zhuoyang yanked Zhang Ning back by the arm.

“What the hell?! Can’t you see they’re shoving Guyen?!”

“I haven’t moved yet. What’s your rush?” Zhao Zhuoyang’s voice was hoarse. His knuckles whitened as he gripped his own fist, his face dark as storm clouds.

“Wait. See what Guyen does.”

Wang Chengwen pinned Guyen against the wall, both hands twisting the front of his uniform. “Listen good, Guyen.”

“I’ll date Tang Yuanyuan. I’ll sleep with her…” Wang Chengwen paused.

“And I’ll be your damn father. F*ck you. F*ck your mother. Hear that? I’ll f*ck your sister *and* your mother.”

“Don’t push your luck. You act so tough every day—consider this your lesson.” A fat vocational student spat on the ground after seeing Zhao Zhuoyang hold Zhang Ning back. He sneered at them. “Two cowardly dogs.”

*Thud!*

The sound of something crashing echoed. Dust motes swirled in the air.

Everyone turned. Guyen was lowering his long leg. Wang Chengwen lay curled on the ground, clutching his stomach, gasping for breath.

“No deal? Then let’s skip the damn talk!” Guyen yanked open his uniform collar, grinning savagely.