Volume One, Chapter Two: Harassment on the Bus

After speaking, he snapped the file folder back to Xiao Li with a sharp slap, then, without another word, led the embarrassingly awkward Lin Xianfeng back to the station.

“Director Xie Changkun of Baiyun Police Station, listen up!” Zheng Yongnian barked angrily, producing a document with a red header.

Xie Changkun hesitated for a moment but reluctantly stopped, standing there with a face full of resentment.

“According to the district bureau’s decision, Lin Xianfeng and Ye Lin are appointed as third-level police supervisors at Baiyun Police Station, with a one-year probation period,” Zheng Yongnian read the document solemnly.

“Xie Changkun, this is a collective decision made by the district bureau—not something you can mess around with!”

“You have to accept this person, whether you want to or not!” After saying this, Zheng Yongnian slapped the file folder back to him decisively, leaving no room for argument.

Xie Changkun looked utterly helpless. “No, the district leaders can’t do this. They know our station is understaffed, and yet they give me this kind of troublemaker. Five disciplinary records? How am I supposed to manage him? Don’t even mention expecting him to do anything useful; if he can just stay out of trouble, I’d be grateful.”

“Besides, look at how he looks. Anyone you ask around here wouldn’t even think he’s a cop.”

Seeing Xie’s resistance soften, Zheng Yongnian’s tone mellowed. “Old Xie, this isn’t the bureau trying to make things difficult for you. We simply have no one else. The city only has a few of these ‘rare talents,’ and the other stations want them too. You’re just lucky it’s your turn.”

“Besides, people are made, not born. We all know your skills, Old Xie. You’re a seasoned cop, a master at both investigations and training people. With your guidance, this kid might just become Baiyun’s next great enforcer.”

“Come on, Baiyun’s biggest pest is more fitting than a tiger,” Xie retorted, not so easily fooled.

Suddenly, Xie’s eyes darted shrewdly as he lightly tapped the file folder. With a sly grin, he said, “Director Zheng, our station only has one small jeep and two little electric scooters. Maybe the bureau could consider giving us a mini van or something?”

Zheng Yongnian cursed inwardly; this old fox was trying to bargain. If he didn’t offer some sweetener, this old fellow surely wouldn’t accept the new recruit. “Old Xie, I hear you. We’ll solve the grassroots difficulties, especially those at Baiyun. I’ll report to the bureau chief immediately and get you that mini van. Deal?”

Hearing this, Xie’s heart blossomed with joy. Looking at Ye Lin, he no longer found him so unbearable.

...

On the bus departing from Baiyun, a young man with long hair sat in a priority seat by the door, absorbed in his phone, occasionally breaking into a faint smile.

His facial features, taken individually, were passable, but combined they gave off an inexplicably unpleasant vibe—like a street punk from a movie, every expression somehow irritating and repellent.

That faint smile, to everyone else, appeared especially lecherous.

Most passengers boarding the bus were office workers eager to avoid trouble. They kept their distance from this young man, shooting occasional disdainful glances but never approaching. Even though he occupied a priority seat, everyone turned a blind eye; no sane person would stoop to dealing with a petty hooligan.

“Chemical Road stop. Passengers wishing to alight, please exit through the rear door.”

The bus arrived at the stop, doors opening. Several passengers got off, while others boarded through the front.

Every time new passengers got on, everyone instinctively glanced their way—but this time, the look lingered a little longer.

Because a beauty had just boarded.

She was a young woman dressed alluringly. Her long, wavy hair cascaded down her back. Her oval face and almond-shaped eyes held a springtime softness; her red lips curved slightly. She wore shorts that barely reached mid-thigh, revealing a pair of proud, fair legs.

Her top was a low-cut short-sleeve shirt, the patch of white fabric at her chest starkly noticeable—her high, proud curves paired with a slender waist swayed with the bus’s movement.

Such a vision stirred excitement among the men, their gazes drawn irresistibly to her.

The young man by the door ceased looking at his phone, his sly eyes scanning her from head to toe. Unlike the others’ furtive glances, his were brazenly bold.

The woman noticed these blatant stares. She was about to snap at him, but upon seeing his roguish expression, she pursed her red lips, muttered a curse under her breath, and swiftly moved to sit near the back.

With the commotion settled, the men retracted their gazes and turned their attention elsewhere. The rest of the passengers were ordinary office workers, dressed similarly. Most took a few steps inside before lazily settling in the middle, grabbing the overhead handles.

Only one middle-aged man, in his thirties, was slowly moving toward the back.

He was slightly plump, his face soft and round. Dressed in a worn-out pair of shorts and a short-sleeve shirt, he mumbled apologies as he squeezed through the aisle—a typical meek fellow used to being pushed around.

Carrying a backpack, he finally reached the back of the bus, the only seat behind the young woman still vacant.

“The vehicle is starting; please hold on and sit properly. Next stop: Baiyun Road.” The bus slowly pulled away.

As the bus moved on, most passengers gazed out the window or straight ahead, waiting for the next stop.

Only the punkish young man lowered his phone, turned his head, and fixed his eyes on the woman sitting behind him, his eyes rolling mischievously, as if amused by some private joke.

The woman grew annoyed, drawing her legs inward and glaring at him. She muttered under her breath, “Pervert.”

Who would have thought that would only provoke him. The punk suddenly stood up.

Before anyone could react, he roughly shoved aside several passengers standing in the aisle and swaggered in front of the woman.

“Hey, beauty, hitting means affection, scolding means love. Was that your way of showing you like me?” he sneered.

The woman never imagined someone would dare to harass her in broad daylight, especially in public. She was momentarily speechless.

“Silent treatment means you agree,” the punk said, stretching his hand toward her hair.

“Stop!”

A loud shout came from the front of the bus.

Since ancient times, heroes have saved beauties, and where there’s a beauty, there’s bound to be a hero.

A young man resembling a university student stepped forward from the front of the bus, rushing toward the punk, finger raised in a scolding gesture.

But the punk disregarded all decorum. Before the student could utter a word, he delivered a devastating kick to his stomach. The student couldn’t stand his ground and somersaulted backward, landing hard on the floor.

Passengers quickly helped him up. Shaken by the attack, the student dared not advance further.

The punk surveyed the crowd with a fierce glare and coldly warned, “Some things aren’t for you to meddle in.”

His icy tone and menacing face sent a chill through everyone, causing them to instinctively back away.

“Don’t go too far! If you keep this up, I’ll call the police!” The bus driver, unable to stand it any longer, shouted a warning.

“Go ahead and call. I’ve got the Blue Dragon on my left and the White Tiger on my right. Been inside before, at worst I’ll do a week and be back out. You, driving this bus every day, want to give it a try?” The punk scoffed, utterly unafraid, issuing a blunt threat.

The driver fell silent—there was no winning against this kind of thug. After all, he needed to earn a living; if the punk camped out at the door every day, it would be a real problem.