SES Chapter 111 Part 1

Chapter 111

To be in top form when “facing” Ma Chao, Cao Yanhua spent the whole morning fussing in front of the bathroom mirror.

No one knew where he’d dug up those clothes—baggy jeans, a T-shirt with a big skull on it, and on his pudgy, dark left forearm a snarling blue dragon tattoo. Yiwansan reached out curiously to touch it.
“Brother Cao, you’ve got ink?”

Cao Yanhua smacked his hand away. “It’s just a transfer tattoo. Don’t rub it off.”

Then he squirted mousse into his palm, slicked his hair until it shone so much a fly would slip right off, and combed it again and again with a little pocket comb. Finally, with a loud rip, he tore open the collar of his T-shirt, and with a murderous look asked Yiwansan, “Well? How do I look?”

Yiwansan frowned. Honestly, he thought the outfit was a bit dated—this was more late-’80s, early-’90s thug style. These days, at the very least, the look should be more “fresh haircut and blow-dry.”

But whatever—thuggery was about what you carried inside, not just the surface.

So off they went. Yan Hongsha stayed behind at the inn with Mu Dai to wait for word, while Luo Ren went to find Song Tie.

Ma Chao was a senior in high school, a textbook delinquent who never bothered with class. At the school gate, Cao Yanhua and Yiwansan asked about him. The gatekeeper shot them a disgusted look. “Where else? Down at Degenerate Street!”

Degenerate Street…

It was a strip nearby crammed with internet cafés, gaming halls, eateries, hair salons, and rental bookshops. A gathering spot for small-time punks, a paradise for truants, and a place the school had always despised.

Around noon, Cao Yanhua strode into Degenerate Street with a dark, heavy gaze. In his imagination, his entrance would have turned heads and silenced the whole street.

But no. Everyone just kept doing their own thing.

Yiwansan took Ma Chao’s photo, walked the length of the street, then came back with news: Ma Chao was in a noodle shop not far away.

At the door, Ma Chao was seated at a side table waiting for his bowl. There were plenty of empty seats, but Cao Yanhua swaggered right over and plopped down across from him. The rickety folding table shook three times under the impact.

Ma Chao lifted his eyes just enough to look at him.

Cao Yanhua locked eyes with him, fearless.

Ma Chao glanced around the other open tables, then back at him. “Uncle, you need something?”

Not far away, Yiwansan nearly missed his chair and fell flat on his ass.

Cao Yanhua nearly jumped up in fury, but mindful of his “role,” he forced it down. Leaning an elbow on the table so his “tattoo” showed, he said, “Kid, I want a word.”

“Word my ass. I don’t even know you.”

That set Cao Yanhua off. He slapped the table. “Watch your mouth, you’re just a kid!”

Ma Chao smirked, utterly unfazed, and went back to fiddling with his phone.

Cao Yanhua figured he’d better throw out some threats. “You’d better behave. You know who I am? If I get pissed off, I’ll have someone beat you to death.”

Ma Chao chuckled, tossed his phone aside, and leaned in. No more “uncle.”

“Listen, punk. You think I scare easily? I know every inch of Nantian. One look at your face and I can tell you’re not from around here. And beat me to death? Please.”

He shot up, grabbed a plastic stool, and raised it over Cao Yanhua’s head. Cao Yanhua flinched, ducking instinctively.

The stool froze midair. Ma Chao snorted. “That’s all the guts you’ve got?”

Cao Yanhua burned with shame more than anger. He wasn’t about to lose face—after all, he’d learned a move or two in his day.

He slammed the table and stood. “You wanna fight?”

A voice piped up behind him. “Where’s the punk starting trouble?”

“Over here,” Ma Chao said.

Cao Yanhua turned and his heart sank.

When Ma Chao had been fiddling with his phone, he’d clearly been calling backup. His buddies were everywhere along the street—gaming, cutting hair, eating. Now they were pouring in. The first two came in, young, hair dyed bright yellow, looking ready to erupt. Others were closing in from outside, Ma Chao waving them over.

The noodle shop was tiny. A few more bodies and the space was packed.

Someone shoved Cao Yanhua. “Where’d this fatass come from? You sick or something?”

Another jabbed at his arm. “Yo, a blue dragon tattoo. Why’s it fading?”

Pokes and shoves came from every side. Cao Yanhua flailed. “Hey, let’s talk this out, no need to get handsy… Yeah, I mean you! You want me to call the cops? Huh?”

Right then—crash!—a bowl shattered on the floor.

Everyone turned. Yiwansan stood there, glaring—not at them, but straight at Cao Yanhua.

“Can’t even eat a meal in peace? You gonna let people eat or not? Huh?!”

He stormed over, face twisted in fury, shoving aside the guy nearest the door. “Move.”

“Fatty, I’m talking to you. You gonna let us eat or not?!”

Before Cao Yanhua could react, Yiwansan shoved his head hard. Cao Yanhua stumbled. “You—you—”

Yiwansan kicked him. “Get lost!”

When Cao Yanhua hesitated, Yiwansan went to grab the folding table. That was enough—Cao Yanhua bolted, pushing out the door and scuttling away.

Yiwansan dropped the table. He’d only meant to look fierce; he’d already tested the weight—actually swinging it would’ve been tough.

Turning back, he saw Ma Chao and his gang still staring. He brushed off his hands. “What’re you looking at? Go on, eat your food.”

Then he went back to his seat. Ma Chao’s crew, seeing nothing else was happening, drifted off again, though one called back to Ma Chao, “If that guy shows up again, we’ll just grab some sticks and smash him!”

The shop owner had been hiding in the back kitchen and only came out to serve food once the commotion was over.

Yiwansan’s tomato-and-egg noodles looked extra colorful, red and yellow all mixed, and he buried his head in the bowl, slurping away. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ma Chao sit down nearby, but he acted like he hadn’t seen him.