Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Trap

Liu Jingye spoke as he pushed open the door and stepped into the small garden. Behind him, the handsome man was frozen in terror, his face ashen, his body trembling uncontrollably, hands flailing helplessly, as if he was about to pull down his pants for a desperate check. Unable to bear it any longer, the man suddenly turned and fled, seemingly with tears glistening in his eyes.

Yuan Xiaoying was now certain that the two of them shared a secretive relationship. Her mission was complete; she had achieved perfection. This was a triumph of wit, one that belonged entirely to Liu Jingye.

“That rascal, always so full of tricks,” Yuan Xiaoying muttered to herself, a beaming smile on her face, like a proud mother watching her son outshine his peers. Once again, she saw Liu Jingye in a new light, her heart brimming with joy as she waited for him.

But as Liu Jingye emerged, he found Yuan Xiaoying surrounded by a crowd. They were a group of unruly youths, their hair dyed in garish colors, clad in tight vests, arms tattooed with dragons and bizarre designs, some even with spring knives tucked at their waists—clearly the lowest rung of street thugs, making a living with their fists.

“Hey, pretty girl, wanna go out with me?” a green-haired youth leered, reaching out to toy with Yuan Xiaoying’s hair. The others burst into raucous laughter. Yuan Xiaoying, unwilling to show weakness, slapped his hand away and barked, “I’m a police officer! Don’t try anything funny!”

“Police?” the thugs jeered. “You undercover or in uniform? The kind who leaves the top three buttons undone?”

As they spoke, the circle tightened around her, making Yuan Xiaoying visibly uneasy. She was a proper officer, so she asserted herself again: “I’m Inspector Yuan Xiaoying of the City Criminal Investigation Division. You’d better behave yourselves!”

“Inspector? You mean we should start undressing you from the neck down?” a thug mocked, deliberately provoking her.

From a short distance, Liu Jingye saw the whole scene clearly. This wasn’t some random catcall—it was a setup.

At that moment, Yuan Xiaoying lost her patience and sneered, “Since you’re so eager for a month’s all-expenses-paid stay in detention, let me oblige you.”

Before the words left her mouth, she struck, kicking the green-haired youth square in the groin. He collapsed instantly, curling up on the ground, frothing at the mouth like a prawn.

The rest of the gang charged at her with a roar. This was no longer mere harassment; street thugs rarely used violence against women, let alone in a group. Clearly, they were here with a purpose.

But Yuan Xiaoying was unafraid. Even when outnumbered, she moved with ease. Her marksmanship might be poor, but her fighting skills were formidable—obviously trained from childhood. Her moves were standard but practical, more than enough to deal with street toughs.

Their usual tactic was to knock a victim down and then encircle for a beating, but Yuan Xiaoying gave them no such chance. She fought while retreating, picking them off one by one, each blow aimed at a vital point, swiftly disabling her attackers.

In a matter of moments, half of the dozen or so thugs lay defeated, but Yuan Xiaoying’s weakness began to show. Despite her background and formal training, she was after all a privileged child, unaccustomed to prolonged exertion. After felling five or six of them, she was panting for breath, while the remaining thugs, though intimidated, still pressed the attack with undiminished energy.

As a fist was about to smash into her chin, suddenly a spark flashed—a half-burned cigarette butt, landing squarely on the attacker’s hand. With a yelp, he jerked his hand back. Seizing the opportunity, Yuan Xiaoying kicked him hard in the chest, sending him flying.

But her movements were obviously slower now; she could no longer retreat and fight at the same time, and soon she was encircled by the remaining thugs.

Now was the time for someone to claim victory. One thug charged ahead for a final assault, but as he stepped forward, a disposable lighter suddenly appeared beneath his foot. With a muffled bang, the lighter exploded, sending him tumbling to the ground and startling his companions.

Yuan Xiaoying took the chance to strike down two more, each blow targeting joints or vital spots. Knowing her strength was nearly spent, she began to hit harder, hoping to end the fight quickly.

At that moment, the green-haired youth who’d first been knocked down staggered to his feet, legs trembling, but still managed to pull a pistol from his pocket, gritting his teeth.

Yuan Xiaoying was pinned by the remaining three men. Despite dodging left and right, her depleted energy left her unable to break free.

“Get out of the way!” the green-haired youth suddenly shouted, raising his gun.

The men instantly scattered, exposing Yuan Xiaoying to the cold, deadly muzzle—her life now hanging by a thread.

“Hey, pal, got a light?”

Just as the green-haired youth squeezed the trigger, a lazy voice sounded behind him.

“No, get lost!” the thug snarled.

“No? Isn’t that a lighter in your hand?” Liu Jingye said, patting him on the shoulder.

Enraged, the green-haired youth thought this fool had mistaken a real gun for a novelty lighter. This was a life-and-death moment, his chance to rise in rank—if he handled Yuan Xiaoying, he’d have truly made it. His momentum was building, only to be interrupted by Liu Jingye. He spun around, intending to scare him off with the gun.

But in that instant, a large hand seized his gun hand in an iron grip, utterly immovable.

Helpless, he watched as Liu Jingye’s face drew near, a cigarette clenched between his lips. Liu Jingye lifted the thug’s hand, forced his finger onto the trigger, and pulled.

Bang—a deafening shot rang out, the bullet grazing the thug’s nose and shooting skyward, the muzzle flash lighting Liu Jingye’s cigarette.

The green-haired thug was petrified. It was his first time firing a gun, and he’d nearly blown his own head off. His knees buckled, and he collapsed in a puddle, the pistol dropping from his grasp.

Beside him, Liu Jingye exhaled a cloud of smoke and said politely, “Thanks, man.”

The green-haired youth was scared out of his wits, and everyone else—Yuan Xiaoying included—stared at Liu Jingye as if he were a demon.

“Who is he, really, to light a cigarette with a gunshot? Is he insane, or just crazy?”

Such questions arose in every mind.

The gunshot had drawn the attention of the residents and security guards, and people began converging on the scene. Firearms were strictly forbidden; for someone to possess one illegally and fire it in public was a capital offense, especially in these troubled times.

The thugs scattered in panic—those who could run, ran; the rest were quickly subdued.

Security and bystanders rushed over. Yuan Xiaoying flashed her badge, and someone called the police.

Liu Jingye had already slipped away to one side for a smoke. Yuan Xiaoying snapped out of her shock and, seizing the green-haired youth while he was still dazed, pressed him: “Who sent you to attack me?”

This was the most effective interrogation technique: rapid, direct questioning. Yuan Xiaoying had already guessed these weren’t random harassers—no street punk would draw a gun just for a failed pick-up.

In a panic, the green-haired thug blurted out, “The boss! The boss sent us after you.”

“Who’s the boss? And how did you know I’d be here?” Yuan Xiaoying pressed.

“We’re from one of the halls of the Radiant Dynasty—our boss is Scorpion,” the thug replied. “As for finding you, someone called the boss, then told us where you’d be.”

Having extracted the crucial information, the police arrived and took the thugs into custody.

During this, Liu Jingye noticed a flicker in the green-haired youth’s eyes—there was something he hadn’t revealed.

“You’re really something—couldn’t even tell a real gun from a fake. Nearly got your head blown off. Bet you’re scared now,” Yuan Xiaoying teased, as if the Radiant Dynasty was nothing to her, her attention focused on Liu Jingye, whom she clearly didn’t consider a fool or a madman.

“And next time you want to help but are scared, just stand at the edge and throw bricks, not cigarette butts or lighters. As a man, you need to be tougher on other men!” she lectured solemnly.

Despite her words, Yuan Xiaoying knew in her heart that Liu Jingye’s timely interventions—one lighter, one cigarette butt—had probably saved her from two heavy blows, possibly changing the entire outcome.

Liu Jingye ignored her chiding, his mind turning over a single question. He lowered his voice to Yuan Xiaoying: “Why is the Radiant Dynasty targeting you so openly, and who called to reveal your whereabouts?”

Yuan Xiaoying, feeling quite pleased with herself, replied, “Maybe it’s because I called off the engagement and that petty man Huang Xing is out for revenge. As for how they found me, I’m such a beautiful woman—I draw attention wherever I go, and there are plenty of street punks who know me. It’s no big deal.”

Liu Jingye almost flicked a cigarette at her. Clearly, subtle hints were wasted on her; with her, it was best to be blunt.

“Don’t forget—you’re out on a secret mission from your superiors today, and you only came here because you were following that beautiful woman. You switched taxis, walked and paused, making it almost impossible to tail you. How could anyone know your location so precisely?” Liu Jingye analyzed coolly.

But Yuan Xiaoying just waved it off. “So what if they knew? They can’t do anything to me. As for that idiot Huang Xing, if he really ordered thugs to attack a cop, I won’t let him off.”

Hopeless! Liu Jingye was speechless. Yuan Xiaoying might not care, but he couldn’t help thinking: “How could it be such a coincidence that they ambushed her here, with the green-haired thug even carrying a gun? Clearly, this was ‘capture if possible, kill if not’...”