Sanlang Brooks stood up and saw that the other man had a pockmarked face—he recognized him as the notorious local thug Riley Wood.

A so-called thug is an idle man with no proper occupation, loafing around for free meals and drinks, occasionally extorting some money to spend, with a terrible reputation.

Riley Wood glared, “So it’s you, bookworm. You bumped into me—pay up!”

Sanlang Brooks replied coldly, “You bumped into me, didn’t you?”

“What?”

A sinister smile appeared at the corner of Riley Wood’s mouth. “Not admitting it, huh? Looks like you’re itching for a beating. Let grandpa teach you a lesson.”

He spread his big hand and swung a slap.

Sanlang Brooks instinctively stepped back, dodging the blow—his light footwork was thanks to days of horse stance training. In the past, he would have been stunned by a single slap.

“Hey, you dare dodge? I’ll beat you to death!”

Riley Wood swung both arms, attacking wildly. He didn’t know any martial arts, just used the typical street thug’s fighting style, relying on brute strength and ferocity.

Although Sanlang Brooks had joined the martial arts school, it hadn’t been long, and he hadn’t learned any real skills yet, so he could barely defend himself and had to turn and evade.

He was furious inside: This thug is going too far!

Riley Wood wouldn’t let up. “Where do you think you’re going? Daring to mess with grandpa—today I’ll make you pay…”

Before he could finish, a graceful figure suddenly appeared, delivering a flying kick right to his cheek.

Riley Wood felt the world spin, teeth and blood flying together, his body flung sideways, crashing heavily to the ground, unable to get up for a long while.

Under a blue oil-paper umbrella, Yvonne Foster retracted her leg and stood tall, looking charming and spirited. She held the umbrella in her right hand and a basket of fresh vegetables in her left—apparently just passing by after shopping:

“Hmph, dare to mess with someone from my martial arts school? I’ll show you right away.”

Sanlang Brooks walked over, panting. “Thank you, Miss Yvonne Foster, for your help.”

His hair was messy, clothes half-wet, looking a bit disheveled, but fortunately, he had managed to dodge in time and hadn’t been hit or injured.

Yvonne Foster looked at him and shook her head. “Looks like I’ll have to teach you some martial arts.”

Sanlang Brooks was delighted. “What kind of skills?”

After what just happened—being chased and attacked like a mad dog, unable to reason—he was desperate to learn martial arts for self-defense. That way, at least he could protect himself.

Yvonne Foster blinked. “Let me think about it first.”

After the two left, Riley Wood groaned and got up. A while later, two sneaky figures approached.

“Young Master Carter, Young Master Mason, you two really got me into trouble.”

Riley Wood spat blood as he complained.

Guitang Carter said impatiently, “We’ll give you an extra tael of silver later to see a doctor.”

“One tael? That’s not enough! I lost three teeth!”

“So what do you want?”

Riley Wood held out a palm. “At least five taels.”

Jintai Mason shouted, “You messed things up like this and still want five taels? Chasing a scholar for half the street and didn’t even mess up a single hair. We agreed beforehand—you were supposed to break two of his bones.”

Riley Wood retorted, “Didn’t you see how fast that fool ran… I don’t care, it has to be five taels, or I’ll spill the beans—yes, I’ll go shout about it at the martial arts school.”

Jintai Mason fumed, “You scoundrel.”

Riley Wood grinned, “I am a scoundrel, after all.”

Guitang Carter and Jintai Mason were furious but helpless. In the end, they had to hand over five taels of silver to get rid of him.

“Unlucky—didn’t get to beat him, didn’t vent our anger, and lost a bunch of silver instead.”

Guitang Carter was heartbroken.

Jintai Mason grumbled, “How is this bookworm so lucky, running into Miss Yvonne Foster?”

“So what do we do next?”

“You’re asking me? Who am I supposed to ask?”

Guitang Carter stroked his chin. “How about going to the martial arts school? We can’t just let the two of them be alone in there, practicing martial arts together—who knows, they might start flirting before they know it.”

Jintai Mason spat, “With that weak, frail body of his, you think Miss Yvonne Foster would be interested?”

“You never know. Women are naturally romantic, most of them like poetry and such. Sanlang Brooks may not be able to pass the exams, but he seems to be able to compose some verses.”

Hearing this, Jintai Mason couldn’t sit still. “Let’s go, let’s check out the martial arts school.”

When they arrived, they found the courtyard gate closed and couldn’t push it open. The courtyard wall was high and couldn’t be climbed, so the two of them anxiously paced around, finally sneaking to the window of the east wing to see if they could climb in.

Suddenly, someone inside the room spoke—a pleasant voice. It was Yvonne Foster reciting poetry:

“Jinse, for no reason, has fifty strings,

Each string, each fret, recalls youthful years.

Zhuangzi’s morning dream confused the butterfly,

The King of Shu’s spring longing entrusted to the cuckoo.

In the vast sea, the moon shines, pearls shed tears;

On Lantian’s warm day, jade gives off mist.

This feeling could become a memory,

But at the time, it was already lost in confusion… Good, truly well written.”

Sanlang Brooks asked, “The poem is written—shall we begin?”

“No rush, first tell me what ‘Zhuangzi’s morning dream confused the butterfly, the King of Shu’s spring longing entrusted to the cuckoo’ means?”

Sanlang Brooks cleared his throat. “These two lines refer to two allusions. It goes like this…”

Outside the window, Guitang Carter and Jintai Mason listened to the sounds inside—reciting love poems, telling stories—gritting their teeth in hatred, almost ready to burst in and catch them in the act.

Finally, when Sanlang Brooks finished telling the story, Yvonne Foster let out a soft sigh, lost in the touching tale, especially the part about the cuckoo crying blood, which was deeply moving.