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Chapter One: Excuse Me, Could You Move?

In front of an ATM belonging to the Industrial and Commercial Bank of China, Duan Mingyu entered the amount he wished to withdraw. The machine then rattled away, counting money for what seemed like an eternity.

The noise attracted the attention of a crowd nearby.

At last, when the wretched machine finally fell silent, Duan Mingyu slowly took out a single hundred-yuan note beneath the expectant gazes of the onlookers. The people around him struggled to contain their laughter. A young woman who had just bitten into a piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken did not disappoint—she sprayed her boyfriend’s face with food. As she wiped him clean, she cast a resentful glance at Duan Mingyu, the culprit behind it all.

Duan Mingyu sighed inwardly. “My fault. It’s all my fault.” Then he slowly walked away.

Only then did people notice the young man’s appearance. He was twenty-two, with a tall, slender figure as straight as a measuring rod, healthy wheat-colored skin, sharply defined brows, a high bridge of the nose, and a pair of jet-black eyes in which darker shadows occasionally flickered. There was a cool, detached air about him, as though he were a hidden recluse living quietly amid the bustling world.

Duan Mingyu was a graduate of Peking University. Since he had ranked fourth among his roommates, his classmates had nicknamed him “Fourth Duan.”

Fourth Duan had no particular talents in his daily life, except for his fondness for tinkering with poetry, lyrics, music, and literature. He possessed elegant calligraphy, and he had also achieved considerable mastery in his major, fashion design. After designing several clothing lines of his own, Duan Mingyu received unanimous praise from industry professionals. As a result, he had always been one of the students his professor focused on cultivating.

Before graduation, his mentor offered to introduce him to a famous overseas company as a designer. Duan Mingyu was overjoyed, never imagining that the offer came with the condition that he sacrifice his own creative work. His mentor demanded that, for the next ten years, every new clothing line Duan Mingyu designed would bear the mentor’s name.

At that moment, the mentor’s once-respected image came crashing down in Duan Mingyu’s heart.

Fourth Duan chose to refuse. Afterward, graduation became unemployment. The one skill he had once taken pride in suddenly seemed worthless, and blow after blow followed. Duan Mingyu applied to numerous companies, but the results left him utterly helpless. Was he truly supposed to sell ten years of his hard work?

No. He would fight to the very end. He would never bow his head to those who sought fame and profit through deception. If no one was willing to hire him, then he would start a business himself. He would set up a street stall. So long as he did not starve, Duan Mingyu would never sell even the slightest portion of his copyrights.

With the moral support of his girlfriend, Duan Mingyu launched himself wholeheartedly into street vending. He bought the fabric himself, designed the clothes himself, manufactured them himself, and sold them himself. Somehow, he managed to scrape together enough to eat.

Because he had admired the character Li Xunhuan from Gu Long’s novels since childhood, Duan Mingyu had also taught himself the art of throwing knives. Unfortunately, such a skill had little practical use in a modern society governed by law. Thus, when tending his stall, he would occasionally take out a small knife to carve wooden ornaments and the like. Wooden clogs were among his creations.

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Misfortune never comes singly. Not long afterward, Duan Mingyu’s mother, who had depended on him for many years, passed away.

After arranging her funeral, the grief-stricken Duan Mingyu became utterly dispirited. With the attitude that one person had only to fill his own stomach, he began wasting his days away.

His girlfriend, however, never gave up on him. She tried everything, from encouragement to provocation, but none of it succeeded in restoring Duan Mingyu’s confidence.

As it happened, after withdrawing the money, Duan Mingyu hurried back to his little stall. He dashed across the road, only to discover that a great battle had broken out at the place where his stall stood.

By “great battle” was meant that the street vendors and the municipal enforcement officers had come to blows. Everything had its limits, including the relationship between vendors and enforcement officers. If the vendors were driven away too relentlessly, conflicts were bound to erupt from time to time. Clearly, the enforcement officers had come fully prepared this time, with superior numbers and equipment.

The enforcement officers were dressed in identical uniforms, each carrying a police baton. By comparison, the vendors’ weapons were hardly impressive. Those with something halfway decent brandished shoulder poles used for carrying goods. Some were even fighting the enforcement officers with slippers…

Wait. Why did that pair of slippers look so familiar?

Damn it. Those were my completely handmade wooden slippers.

Duan Mingyu felt his heart bleed. So this was how easy it was to break a man’s heart.

Looking at the wreckage scattered across his stall, Duan Mingyu’s mood sank straight to the bottom. No wonder every vendor had a slipper in hand. It turned out they were using his misfortune to arm themselves.

At that very moment, the battle between the enforcement officers and the vendors continued. The number of participants was unprecedented, with more than a hundred people on both sides combined. The scene was truly enormous—drums and gongs thundered, firecrackers exploded, red flags fluttered, and crowds surged everywhere.

The head of the enforcement officers was an exceptionally fat man. Raising his baton high, the fat officer roared, “Brothers, smash everything! Anyone who dares stop us—beat the hell out of them!”

Duan Mingyu could endure it no longer. He was, after all, on the vendors’ side. If he did not join the fight, he could forget about making a living here in the future.

He took out the throwing knives he carried with him, pondered for a moment, and decided against using them. It would not be good if anyone was injured or killed. Instead, Duan Mingyu picked up several pebbles and hid behind a trash can.

After a long while, Duan Mingyu drew a deep breath. Then, with lightning speed, he stuck his head out, took aim at a man wearing an enforcement uniform, and shot a pebble from his hand with a sharp whoosh. He immediately ducked back down.

That was how Duan Mingyu joined the battle—in the most underhanded manner possible.

Every time he launched a pebble, a cry of “Ow!” would rise from among the enforcement officers.

Duan Mingyu was delighted by the sensation of never missing, of hitting his target every single time. He let out a sly chuckle, picked up another pebble, and cautiously raised his head to observe the enemy’s movements.

To his surprise, a fat man was standing directly in front of him, blocking his view.

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“Buddy, could you move aside?” Duan Mingyu said.

“Were you the one ambushing those enforcement officers?” the man asked after stepping aside.

Duan Mingyu kept his eyes fixed on the battle and answered without looking up. “Yes. Is there a problem?”

“There is, in fact, one problem.”

“What problem?”

“Why does every pebble you shoot hit me? Why?”

Only then did Duan Mingyu get a clear look at the man. He was none other than the head of the enforcement officers.

Duan Mingyu nearly fainted. The man’s head was covered in bumps, all of them his handiwork.

Faced with the officer’s confusion, Duan Mingyu had originally wanted to say, “I was throwing randomly. If you want to blame someone, blame your terrible luck.” But when the words reached his lips, he let out a long sigh instead.

“Perhaps… maybe… probably because you’re too fat, so you make a larger target. Any other questions, sir?”

The head of the enforcement officers scratched the back of his head in dejection. “No!”

Duan Mingyu said, “Then please head back.”

The officer trudged slowly toward the others. Duan Mingyu, however, fled as if he had wings.

Sure enough, five seconds later, an enraged voice reached his ears.

“You little bastard, you tricked me! Brothers, after him!”

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