A New Calamity

Chapter 9: Too Late...

"Are you such a cowardly person that you'd let the very person you tried to kill defend you? I know you realize he knows who you are, as I know you know him too, but don't you feel a bit of shame? Being defended by a kid? A street rat, no less. Do you want to live off the pity of the person you ran down the street just a year ago? Have you absolutely no face? He's not obligated to you. At. All. It should be you who defends your mother, you spineless rat! Fight your own battles! Have some dignity! Or do you still hate him after everything he has done for you that you want to create more trouble for him? "

As Hong Hong'er took a deep breath to calm down, Qi Rong came out of his shock and asked, sputtering, "Wh-what do you mean? "

"Those noble boys are hopelessly stupid, yes, but their guards are not. Their families must have told them to keep a watch out for the thief. Lu may be smart, but he's still a kid! What do you think will happen to him once he's caught, huh? And all because he's defending your ungrateful ass! A coward like you who obviously hates his friends but still goes back to them! You really are hopeless!"

Then Hong Hong'er did something he'd wanted to do since he saw that hateful face of Qi Rong's.

He kicked his family jewels and said as Qi Rong fell to his knees with screams of agony, "If Lu is hurt because of you, you'll forever live a cursed life! " Then he beat a hasty retreat out of the alley.

....

The nobles did not come back the next day, bringing relief to him, even if it obviously struck Lu with worries.

It was for the best.

....

Hong Hong'er would've never thought his final words to Qi Rong in their mortal lives would've stuck...

Makes one wonder what would've happened if he did know, right? Hua Cheng perhaps did think about that in the future, but that was neither here nor there.

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Shen Yuan growled as he sat before the bronze mirror, taking the ribbon out of his hair and letting the mass of barely tamed fluff flow. And because he was feeling especially angry, he fell into the therapeutic ritual of patting his own head. Who would have thought that baby male lead had such fluffy hair! But because he couldn't go and pat the feral male lead's hair, he could only settle for patting his own..which is...actually pretty fun!

But now even that didn't help. And everything had been going so well!

He had all the attention on him, all the gazes, lustful that they were, but he could ignore their burns to focus on the appreciation and admiration that was obvious in their gasps of surprise and delight. He'd been the centre of attention and he had loved it!

Every part of it.

For the first time, he wasn't admired for how well he killed, how many he killed, how he tricked and schemed and disguised himself. He was actually admired for his singing (even if he literally plagiarized Ariana Grande) and dancing, his stunts, the tricks he pulled, the way he played with fire, the way he wanted to. The way he had always wanted to be seen.

Because deep inside, no matter how much of a skilled killer he became, he would still be a child with dreams of being a performer.

He had been so excited the day before, even if he'd to stay up late to translate the song, and convince the brothel ladies to give him a chance (the madam had been adamant on not letting him go until he showed what he was going to sing, while the others found many other reasons to dissuade him). He still convinced them though, so there was no problem.