Chapter 50: A Second Encounter with the White Jade Peak

On the way back in the car, Chen Aijia asked Yang Changfeng for the Nth time, “Can you really see clearly?”

Yang Changfeng replied, exasperated, “Come on, can I say I can see but not clearly?”

Chen Aijia snapped, “You’re blaming me? It was such a simple problem to solve, why did you have to risk everything and end up like this? Well, now even if you manage to kill all those people, what good does it do you? You’re suffering the pain, enduring the wounds—why can’t you just listen?”

Yang Changfeng felt stifled; he had never expected people could be so malicious.

He saved their lives—not that he expected gratitude, but to be extorted for ten million per family? What had people become—was money everything?

He didn’t regret ruthlessly locking up those old men and women. If they weren’t made to understand the consequences of their actions, they would only escalate their vengeance on society.

That’s how these people were: if you could make them behave, they’d act like kindly elders doing square dances in the plaza; but if you were weaker, they’d bully you endlessly, hiding behind their age.

“I just wanted there to be fewer bad people in this world. Even if they don’t do good, at least let them not do evil,” Yang Changfeng said softly as he lay in the back seat, while Chen Aijia drove on in silence.

Chen Aijia was taken aback, then suddenly smiled and teased, “I didn’t think you were such an idealist. That’s not bad, actually.”

Not bad? What did that mean?

Yang Changfeng, feeling indignant, was about to argue, but Chen Aijia stopped talking, a strange lightness settling over her. She even began to hum a tune.

Hey, isn’t this too much? I’m the injured one here!

“Stop pretending. With your nature, if you’d really suffered a big loss, you’d be plotting revenge by now, not calmly handing off work to others and merrily going home to rest. I’m warning you—don’t stir up any trouble for the next few days. Lie low until this is wrapped up. Then you can go out again,” Chen Aijia said with a pout.

Oh? You know me so well now?

Yang Changfeng gave a sly grin.

Chen Aijia barked, “What are you thinking? I’m warning you, I’m saying this for your own good—don’t get any ideas.”

When they got home, the house was empty. Dinner had been left warming on the stove.

The time was just past the pilot broadcast hour. Turning on the TV, the Jiangzhou late-night news was covering the day’s events.

At that moment, the footage showed the scene after the masked criminal had been subdued, when Yang Changfeng and the old woman clashed.

No one tried to cover up what had happened—there was no need. Things had unfolded just like that. Though Yang Changfeng’s actions might not have been ideal, in that situation, not subduing the criminal would have led to far worse; in the surveillance video, the masked man was inching closer to the gun.

To Yang Changfeng and Chen Aijia’s relief, the TV station had blurred every segment that involved them, to protect their identities.

After the video ended, the female anchor appeared, her tone indignant. “Viewers, this isn’t the whole truth. If it were just this, we might have nothing more to say, since it involved a group of elderly people. But what happened next—frankly, no one could watch without feeling outraged.”

The program devoted a full half hour to broadcasting the legal affairs channel’s news as the night’s feature.

By ten-thirty, when the entire incident had been aired, the anchor said, “So far, we’ve received over thirty thousand messages from concerned viewers—by phone, text, and online. Let’s look at some of the highlights.”

As expected, whether true Samaritans or keyboard warriors, the majority sided against the elderly group.

As one young woman remarked, these days young people live ever more stifled lives: afraid to sit on buses, to run on sports tracks, to pause on the street—because they can’t afford to cross elders who dominate everywhere.

“Driven to despair by these bad elders, sometimes we feel like we don’t want to live, but we’re too afraid to die. It’s high time for a crackdown on such shameless, society-disrupting behavior,” a late-night office worker said, voicing the feelings of countless young people as the show concluded.

This case, and tonight’s broadcast, were not the end but the beginning of a storm.

To Chen Aijia, this incident seemed to offer no benefit; but she knew that in just two days—at most—when the company’s involvement was inevitably exposed, it would earn immense prestige and support.

Yang Changfeng had said he’d bring a silk banner to the company. He hadn’t been joking.

In the middle of the night, Chen Aijia started awake from a nightmare of Yang Changfeng standing before her, blood covering his face, one eye an empty socket, grinning at her in a ghastly way.

Sweat drenched her forehead as she sat dazed on her bed. After a long time, unable to rest easy, she decided to check on Yang Changfeng.

This villain—he was harsher than those wicked elders, willing to risk his health to punish them. He really was a good person.

Chen Aijia didn’t want to care about him, but she couldn’t stop herself. She worried he might truly be in trouble but was too proud to admit it.

Still in her pajamas, Chen Aijia—unusually—not bothering to wrap herself up tightly, slipped out. She didn’t want to wrestle with clothes; changing would have taken too long.

She headed for Yang Changfeng’s door, about to push it open, when it swung open on its own.

With a startled cry, she saw Yang Changfeng appear in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, and snapped, “Are you crazy? Not sleeping at this hour—what are you doing?”

Then, after a pause, she scolded, “Were you trying to sneak into my room?”

Yang Changfeng yawned and said helplessly, “What goes on in your head? I heard a noise and thought you were sleepwalking ag—hey, what are you doing?”

Suddenly, a dark blur crashed into him—a soft, fragrant bundle pressed into his arms, startling him half out of his wits.

Chen Aijia, trembling, her teeth chattering, whimpered, “Why did you have to scare me?”

Only then did she realize how terrifying sleepwalking really was—and that this hallway was practically her nightmare.

Yang Changfeng couldn’t help laughing. He reached out to pat her back—bare under the thin, strappy nightdress, skin pale as snow—when suddenly Chen Aijia pulled away, glaring with suspicion. “Were you just trying to scare me so you could take advantage?”

It wasn’t that I scared you—you ran into me…

Well, some perks after all!

Perhaps because of his injury, his eyes acted up and he inadvertently saw through things; under the nightdress, Chen Aijia was wearing nothing, her curves trembling with each quick breath, stomach flat, a deep valley below…

He swallowed, forcing a sheepish smile. “Ah, sorry to worry you. Really, I’m fine, I…”

But the moment Chen Aijia saw his eyes wandering toward forbidden territory, her temper flared. She wanted to kick him, but remembering he was injured, she refrained, stamping her foot instead. “You’re coming to work tomorrow. Your week off is canceled!”

With a bang, she slammed her door. Yang Changfeng rubbed his chin, muttering, “Well, saw the jade peaks again, but lost my vacation. Did I win or lose?”