Chapter 50: Spoiled Brats
Wu Yifan and Mu Xiaoyao stepped out of Infinity, the afternoon sun painting the sidewalk in warm gold. Wu stretched lazily, scanning the street for a café or a quiet park—anywhere to unwind after the chaos of the past week. But their plans were dashed almost instantly.
A group of teenagers swaggered toward them, laughter booming. They looked sixteen or seventeen, decked out in flashy, overpriced gear—designer sneakers, hoodies with bold logos, jeans that cost more than Wu's monthly pay. Several boys sported neon-dyed hair—electric blue, fire-engine red, even a sickly green—making them look like a flock of overconfident, overgrown parrots.
Wu's lip curled. He'd never had patience for kids like this—spoiled, entitled, flaunting their parents' money as if it made them untouchable. *Why copy those K-pop stars?* he thought, shaking his head. *Can't even take pride in being Chinese. Pathetic.*
He steered Mu to the side, hoping to slip past. But one boy—tall, with peroxide-blond hair and a permanent sneer—spotted Mu, his eyes narrowing.
"Mu Xiaoyao? What the hell are you doing with *this* guy?" he barked, planting himself in front of them.
Mu's demeanor shifted. Around Wu, she was playful, almost childlike, but with these strangers? She turned icy, her gaze sharp as a blade. She said nothing, just grabbed Wu's hand and tried to edge around them.
The blond boy blocked their path again, chest puffed. "Who the hell are you? Huh? You think you can just waltz in and take her from us? Answer me, old man!"
Wu raised an eyebrow. "Old man? Kid, I'm a few years older, not ancient. And last I checked, *she's* holding *my* hand. Maybe learn to use your eyes before running your mouth."
The boy's face flushed scarlet. "How dare you talk to me like that? Do you know who my dad is? He owns half the malls in Beitian!"
"Wow. Impressive," Wu drawled. "Does he teach manners too? Because you're flunking that class."
The boy spluttered, and his friends closed in, circling Wu and Mu like wolves.
"Who does this loser think he is?" snapped a stocky kid with a diamond earring.
"Probably a beggar," jeered another, eyeing Wu's plain shirt and scuffed jeans. "Can't afford decent clothes, but he's hitting on Xiaoyao? Pathetic."
A girl with caked-on makeup—glitter smudged around her eyes, lips a garish purple—stepped up, voice shrill. "You think you're tough? My brother's got guys who'd snap you like a twig. Apologize to Chen, or you'll regret it."
Wu sighed. "Done with the tantrum? I'd like to leave. You're boring me."
"Boring—?!" the girl shrieked. "You bastard! How dare you—!"
She lunged, swinging a fist at Wu's face. It was a weak, clumsy swing—more a fit than a fight. Wu caught her wrist easily, grip loose but unyielding.
"Is this supposed to be a fight? Or are you auditioning to be my maid? Because you're bad at both," he grinned.
"Let go of me, pervert!" she screeched, struggling.
"Pervert? Says the one who just attacked me," Wu said, releasing her. She stumbled back, nearly tripping over her own feet.
"Get him!" she screamed. "Teach this loser a lesson!"
The boys charged, yelling like extras in a bad action movie. Wu didn't flinch. The blond boy—Chen—threw a wild kick at Wu's stomach. Wu sidestepped, grabbed his ankle, and flicked lazily.
Chen went flying, arms windmilling, before crashing onto the sidewalk. He skidded several feet, designer jeans tearing, pristine sneakers caked in dirt. He looked up, spitting gravel, face red with rage and humiliation.
The others fared no better. One swung a punch that Wu dodged, sending the kid sprawling into a trash can. Another tried to tackle him, only to be lifted and plopped gently but firmly onto a park bench. Within a minute, all four boys lay on the ground, groaning and cursing, expensive clothes ruined, pride shattered.
Mu watched, amused. She'd seen Wu fight—hell, she'd watched him take down gangsters. These kids didn't stand a chance.
"Done?" she asked, voice cold as she stared down at the whimpering boys.
"Xiaoyao! You can't be serious!" Chen yelled, clutching his elbow. "This guy's a nobody! A loser! What's wrong with you?"
Mu crossed her arms. "Loser? He took down all four of you without breaking a sweat. And *you're* calling *him* a loser? Grow up. We're leaving."
The makeup-caked girl scowled, brushing dirt off her skirt. "Big deal. He's just older, stronger. My family's got fifty bodyguards. He wouldn't last five minutes against *them*." She shot Wu a venomous look, but there was curiosity too. He was different from the simpering rich boys she knew.
"Bodyguards, huh?" Wu grinned. "Tell them to bring their best. I'm easy to find."
"You—!" the girl sputtered, out of comebacks.
The boys clambered up, glaring at Wu like he'd personally insulted their mothers. But none attacked again. They knew they were outmatched.
Wu rolled his eyes. "Can we go? I'd rather not waste my afternoon babysitting."
He took Mu's hand, and they walked off, leaving the teens fuming.
"Asshole! I'll get you for this!" Chen yelled after them.
Mu didn't look back.
Behind them, the group erupted into bickering.
"Did you see how he tossed me? My elbow's bruised!"
"Shut up! You looked stupid! I said we should ignore them."
"My dad's gonna hear about this. That jerk'll regret messing with us."
"He's probably some ex-con. No normal guy fights like that."
Their squabbling was cut short by heavy footsteps and loud voices. A bald man—scalp shiny, face scarred—stomped past, followed by two dozen tough-looking guys. Muscular, leather-jacketed, fists clenched.
"Move, brats!" the bald man snapped, shoving Chen aside.
"Hey! Watch it!" Chen snarled, rubbing his shoulder. But when he met the man's cold, raging eyes, he fell silent.
The bald man didn't glance at him. He was focused on Wu and Mu's retreating backs.
"There he is!" one goon said, pointing. "With the girl. Lucky bastard—new one every day."
The bald man grinned, yellowed teeth showing. "Good. Let's pay him a visit. Boys, no holding back. I want him begging. Break his bones. Make him regret crossing me."
"Sure thing, Boss Zhang!" the goons chorused.
Chen and his friends exchanged looks.
"Should we… do something?" the makeup-caked girl asked, suddenly nervous. These weren't kids playing tough—they were gangsters.
Chen's eyes lit up. He never backed down from a fight, and this? Entertainment. "Hell no. Let's watch. See how tough he really is. Might be fun."
The others snickered, trailing behind, phones out—unaware they were about to witness far more than a schoolyard scrap.
The stage was set. And Wu Yifan? He was ready to fight.