𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ||

sᴇᴠᴇɴ

Seizing the moment, Mr. Han flung Liang over his back, sending him crashing into a large metal barrel filled with rope and rods. Liang knelt down in pain, feeling the impact of both the barrel and the ground as he tumbled backwards.

Meanwhile, Cheng slowly rose from the floor, determined to continue the fight. In an attempt to sweep Mr. Han off his feet, he swung his legs

As the chaos continued to unfold, one of Cheng's older companions seized the opportunity to make a move. Sneaking up from behind, he delivered a forceful blow, knocking Mr. Han off his feet and sending him sprawling to the ground. But the resilient old man quickly regained his composure, determined to overcome the odds stacked against him.

Undeterred by his temporary setback, Cheng retaliated with lightning speed. He twisted the senior boy's arm, using his momentum to slam him into Cheng himself, bringing both of them crashing to the ground. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Cheng surveyed the scene, trying to assess the situation and find a way to turn the tide in their favor.

As Cheng struggled to regain his footing, his eyes fell upon [name], who was holding onto her stomach, clearly in pain from the intense brawl. Zhuang, another one of Cheng's friends, noticed [name]'s distress and cast a worried glance in her direction, torn between the ongoing fight and his concern for her well-being.

"Are you okay?" Zhuang asked, genuine worry etched across his face. However, [name] was too focused on the unfolding events to respond, her attention fixed on Mr. Han and the imminent danger he posed. Zhuang, sensing the urgency, shifted his gaze back to Mr. Han, preparing himself to strike and protect his friends.

However, in a surprising turn of events, Mr. Han interrupted the escalating violence with a commanding voice. "Go home," he firmly stated, his words cutting through the tension and commanding attention. In that moment, the old man's authority and wisdom shone through, causing a temporary ceasefire among the combatants.

Seizing the opportunity to deescalate the situation further, Mr. Han approached [name], understanding the pain she was enduring. He gently grabbed her arms, whispering reassurances to her. "Come on, girl," he said, his voice filled with care and concern. With a determined yet tender demeanor, he lifted her up and carried her inside his apartment, away from the chaos of the fight.

Meanwhile, the boys who had been engaged in the intense scuffle were left lying on the ground, groaning in pain from the battering they had received.

[name] slowly regained consciousness, feeling a gentle and fluffy touch on her stomach. She blinked her eyes open and was surprised to find Mr. Han sitting beside her. Sitting up quickly, she winced in pain, but Mr. Han gently pushed her back down, urging her to lie back down.

"Mr. Han, what are you doing?" [name] exclaimed in a panic, confused by his actions. He looked at her and playfully flicked her brow. "Don't think anything else, I'm not a bad person. I'm performing Jaoi Fa, an ancient Chinese healing technique," he explained. [name] looked at him, surprised by her own thoughts and assumptions.

"I wasn't thinking like that!" [name] exclaimed, slightly flustered. Mr. Han chuckled softly. "I'm only saying. But tell me, what happened? Why were they chasing you and beating you like a sheep?" he asked, concerned for her well-being.

"I'm not sure," [name] responded, still feeling a sense of confusion. "But they accused me of something I didn't do." Her voice carried a mix of frustration and bewilderment. Mr. Han nodded, understanding her predicament.

Suddenly, [name] noticed Mr. Han lighting a fire, touching it briefly, and then placing it on her stomach. Fear gripped her, and she screamed, expecting pain. However, to her surprise, she felt no discomfort. As Mr. Han stood up, she saw her bruised stomach but still felt no pain.

"What did you do?" [name] asked, her voice trembling. Mr. Han packed some cotton balls and a bulb, preparing to tend to her injuries. "I used ancient healing techniques to alleviate the bruises and promote healing," he explained calmly.

[name] quickly grabbed her jacket and put it on, noticing her disheveled hair in the mirror. Feeling a sense of vulnerability, she explained, "They thought I was the one who threw dirty water on them. But it wasn't me; it was the man on the second floor!" She looked at Mr. Han, hoping he would believe her.

Curiosity sparked within [name], and she couldn't help but ask, "Who taught you kung fu, Mr. Han?" She stood up and walked to the mirror, attempting to fix her hair. Mr. Han simply replied, "My father."

Inspired by what she had witnessed, [name] gathered the courage to ask, "Would you teach me?" She turned to face Mr. Han, her eyes filled with determination. He looked away for a moment, contemplating her request. "It depends," he finally responded.

Perplexed, [name] questioned, "It depends on what?" Mr. Han's gaze met hers as he replied, "Reason." [name] realized she needed to provide a valid reason for wanting to learn kung fu, not one driven by anger or revenge.

"To protect myself and stand up against injustice," [name] admitted, her voice tinged with shame. Mr. Han's response was stern but wise. "The best fights are the ones we avoid," he stated firmly, emphasizing the importance of non-violence and resolving conflicts peacefully.

Feeling remorse for her earlier choice of words, [name] apologized for her language. Mr. Han sighed and handed her a glass of water, which she eagerly drank. "Kung fu is a path of self-defense and knowledge," he explained, capturing [name]'s undivided attention.

"Not to wage war, but to cultivate peace," he continued. [name] listened intently, captivated by the wisdom Mr. Han imparted. She felt a surge of excitement at the prospect of learning kung fu and the

opportunity to grow both physically and mentally.

"Please, Mr. Han, teach me," [name] pleaded, her eyes filled with eagerness. However, Mr. Han simply stated, "No." [name]'s smile faded, disappointment washing over her. "But- wait," she protested, searching for a way to change his mind. "If kung fu is for peace, why did they beat me?"

"There is no such thing as a bad student, only a bad teacher," Mr. Han responded cryptically. [name]'s eyes widened as she quickly realized the profound meaning behind his words. "Oh, I understand," she said, a mix of realization and gratitude in her voice.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to pay a visit to their school and talk to their teacher," [name] joked, attempting to lighten the mood. Mr. Han nodded, surprising her with his agreement. "That's a good idea," he said, acknowledging her determination to seek resolution.

Grabbing her bag, [name] made her way towards the door, ready to face the challenge ahead. "No!" Mr. Han interrupted, stepping forward and gently patting her shoulder. "That's a bad idea. You'll end up getting hurt, and they will continue to beat you."

Desperate for Mr. Han's support, [name] pouted and pleaded, "Can't you come with me?" He shook his head firmly. "No, I can't. It's best if I stay out of it. But," he paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I'll be watching from afar."

Feeling torn between disappointment and a sense of adventure, [name] let out a frustrated groan. She was about to walk away when she heard Mr. Han's voice calling out, "Wait!" She turned around, a smug smirk playing on her lips. Mr. Han rolled his eyes in response.