There were occasional customers coming and going in the shop—some came to rent discs, some to return them, and some just browsed without doing anything. It wasn’t until three in the afternoon, when Charles Bennett finished writing a new chapter, that a burly young man appeared in front of him. This man was called Jack Steele.

“Hey, I heard you got taken in by the cops yesterday?” Jack Steele asked.

“Yeah, bad news travels fast, good deeds never leave the house. Last time I helped an old lady cross the street, how come you didn’t come check on me then?” Charles Bennett didn’t even look up, his tone was anything but polite—enough to scare a bunch of street punks if they heard it.

Ever since Jack Steele left the army, he’d been mixing in the underworld, and after a few years, he’d made a bit of a name for himself. But his swagger only worked on small-time thugs; when it came to Charles Bennett, his childhood buddy, Jack Steele just couldn’t muster that legendary kingly aura. He gave a somewhat sheepish grin and asked again, “I heard from Lin Shao that you hooked up with that lady cop in your book? Did that girl use a groin kick on you yesterday?”

“It was close. If I hadn’t run into a fan of my book at the station by chance, I’d have been skinned alive by that girl yesterday…” Charles Bennett smiled helplessly, looked up, and continued, “I don’t think this is over. That chick will probably come looking for trouble again. How about you teach me a couple of killer moves? If your bro gets beaten up by a girl, that’s not a good look for you, right? Yo, my man Tiezi, you’re looking more and more ripped these days—how did you get that physique?”

Following Charles Bennett’s gaze, Jack Steele’s looks were average and his build was ordinary, but he always gave off a sharp, knife-like vibe. Under his black tank top, his muscles weren’t as exaggerated as those of bodybuilders on TV, but they were as hard as rock. If Charles Bennett punched him, it’d probably be Charles Bennett who felt the pain, not Jack Steele.

Jack Steele punched Charles Bennett in the chest and laughed, “Come on, you’re just a slacker who never sticks to anything. Back in school, you said you’d train hard to take down your rivals in love, but what happened? You couldn’t even last a week with sandbags on your legs, and in the end, I was the one who helped you ambush that guy with a sack while you whacked him from behind…”

“Can’t you go a little easier?” Charles Bennett rubbed his chest. “Let’s not talk about the past, life’s already full of storms. Even the song says so, so stop bringing up my embarrassing stories. Seriously though, that chick is a real badass, she’s definitely trained. How about I set you two up for a spar?”

Before Jack Steele could answer, the shop entrance was suddenly blocked by a crowd of people. At a glance, at least seven or eight punks rushed in, all looking fierce and carrying weapons.

“Charles Bennett, which one of you is Charles Bennett? Get your ass out here!”

A crisp yet slightly hoarse female voice rang out. The speaker was wearing a small tank top and ripped jeans, with a provocative exposed navel sporting a dark purple scorpion tattoo. At first glance, she looked like a twenty-something delinquent girl. But her slightly wavy long hair and flawless, doll-like face under dark red sunglasses made her look adorable, no matter how fierce she tried to sound—there wasn’t a hint of menace.

“That’s me.” Charles Bennett stood up. With Jack Steele by his side, Big Bennett really didn’t know the meaning of nervousness.

“Did you write some crappy book called ‘My Happy Life with the Scandalous Beauties’?” The doll-faced girl asked aggressively, hands on her exposed, alluring waist.

“That’s right.” Charles Bennett felt a sense of foreboding.

“Then that’s it. Boys, smash it! Wreck this place for me, and if anything happens, I’ll take the blame!” The doll-faced girl ordered her crew, looking pretty fierce—like a wild girlfriend from the movies.

The group raised their weapons, ready to start smashing. If they really went at it, Charles Bennett’s shop would be finished.

“Let’s see who dares!” Jack Steele, who’d been watching the show, finally spoke up. His voice was powerful and rang in everyone’s ears. Tossing Charles Bennett a cigarette, Jack Steele lit one for himself, took a deep drag, and stared at a stunned blond youth. “Blondie, who sent you here?”

“Ah—Tie-ge!” Blondie yelped, his attitude doing a complete 180. He grinned obsequiously, “Tie-ge, you’re here too? Is this your friend’s place?”

Pointing at Charles Bennett, Jack Steele swept his gaze over Blondie and said, “That’s right, Boss Wei is a close friend of mine. So what, you really want to smash this place?”

“Come on, Tie-ge, it’s all a misunderstanding! I’ll take my guys and leave right now. You enjoy your movies, we won’t bother you. Next time, I’ll treat you to tea myself to apologize… Guys, let’s go!” Blondie was as deferential as a grandson, and just thinking of the nickname ‘Killer Tie’ made his scalp tingle.

Ignoring the doll-faced girl, Blondie led his crew out like they were running for their lives.

The doll-faced girl was now especially frustrated, her ashen face betraying her feelings. According to Big Bennett’s keen observation, the girl’s emotions had gone through a whole series of chemical reactions—surprise, bewilderment, anger, fear—finally settling on utter confusion.