Chapter One: Peril

Stars were scattered across the sky, veiled in the pure glow of the moon, brushed onto the pitch-black night as if ink had been ground into the heavens. Summer nights always arrived late. Beneath the camouflage of neon lights, the city shimmered in hues of smoke, sliced into deep, dazzling streaks that poured into the night market, filling the mortal world with the temptations and desires of the everyday.

The nightscape of City Z was ever enchanting, ever alluring.

Moonlight glimmered through the haze, and at the far end of the street, high heels painted in rouge were everywhere to be seen. A cool breeze rustled through the trees at the street corner, the crisp whisper of leaves oddly out of place amid the market’s clamor.

A lighter snapped. Qian Guan lit a cigarette and drew deeply, leaning against the shade of a tree for respite.

“Young man, back to cool off again, eh?” An old man in a white undershirt, carrying a small folding stool and fanning himself, settled down beside Qian Guan, his face lit with a smile of recognition—they’d clearly met before.

“Grandpa, would you like one?” Qian Guan naturally offered him a cigarette and lit it for him.

The old man inhaled with satisfaction, “You’ve got some good smokes, young man.”

“They’re foreign, a gift from a friend,” Qian Guan replied, snuffing out his own cigarette and lighting another.

“No wonder they taste different—foreign goods, eh?” The old man laughed heartily, cigarette pinched between his fingers.

“If you like them, Grandpa, I’ll bring you a few packs tomorrow night. I still have some at home.”

“Young people these days are really something.” The old man’s face blossomed into a smile.

“Do you live nearby? I don’t recall seeing you before.”

“I just moved here recently, in that neighborhood up ahead,” Qian Guan replied, gesturing northeast.

“That explains why I haven’t seen you during my evening walks.” The old man squinted at Qian Guan, taking another drag.

Qian Guan’s lips curled in a faint smile.

“Where do you work now?” The old man pressed on, clearly pleased with Qian Guan.

“I’m actually still in my senior year at university, Grandpa. I’ll graduate next year,” Qian Guan replied, his expression lightly surprised by the question.

The old man was momentarily stunned, studying Qian Guan’s calm, fair face, his composed attire, and that aura of quiet steadiness—nothing about him seemed like a typical, inexperienced student.

“Young folks these days really can’t be judged by appearances,” the old man chuckled, patting Qian Guan’s shoulder approvingly.

“Young man, about that—”

“Grandpa, I have something to do. I’ll bring the cigarettes tomorrow night,” Qian Guan abruptly interrupted, flicked away his cigarette, and hurried off into the crowd.

“Well, off he goes before I could finish,” the old man murmured, shaking his head as he enjoyed his cigarette in solitude.

Meanwhile, Qian Guan jogged across the street and stopped at the intersection. He watched the endless stream of cars and stared at the traffic lights cycling from red to green, waiting at the crosswalk out of habit.

Wave after wave of pedestrians crossed, but Qian Guan remained at the curb, his deep gaze fixed on the street, his brow furrowing tighter.

The light turned green. Another wave of hurried pedestrians crossed. Twenty seconds of the thirty ticked by, and the crosswalk was almost empty. There were remarkably few cars on the road now.

Suddenly, a faint siren wailed from the distance, growing louder and more urgent.

From the sharp bend ahead, a car nose shot out, tires screeching against the pavement in a heart-stopping drift.

A black sports car, headlights blazing, sped forward, smashing through a traffic barrier with reckless abandon.

Screams erupted from the bystanders, sharp and piercing, stirring the air with terror.

“Mommy—Mommy—”

A little girl suddenly darted out from behind Qian Guan, running from the curb toward the opposite side.

“Sweetie, don’t run!” a man called anxiously after her, but the child only ran faster.

The sirens howled louder. Three police cars chased the black sports car relentlessly.

The black car, driven to madness, wailed and hurtled through the night, desperate to shake the police but failing.

“Sweetie—danger!” a woman screamed from across the street.

But the little girl, paralyzed by fear from the blaring horns and sirens, froze in the middle of the road, covering her ears.

A suffocating air settled over the street as every gaze fixed on the small figure at the crosswalk, horror etched on every face. Some covered their eyes, unable to watch.

“No!” the woman screamed, her voice so raw it drowned out the sirens.

The headlights of the black car bathed the little girl in harsh white light. She crouched on the ground, hoping the car would stop.

But—the car didn’t slow, barreling toward her as if she didn’t exist.

A collective gasp ensued; the crowd stood frozen, mouths agape in terror, unable to tear their eyes away.

It was as if time itself had stopped, each second stretching the girl’s impending doom. Everyone knew, in their hearts, she was doomed.

“Don’t!” Suddenly, a shout startled everyone, most of all the woman, who stumbled and fell in her rush to save her daughter.

The black car was less than a meter from the girl, the woman three meters away.

The scent of death spread through every heart.

Eyes shut tight, the woman’s vision blurred with tears.

The little girl’s fate seemed sealed.

A rush of wind—the black car shot past, two police cars following close. One pulled to the curb.

The distant wail of sirens faded.

When everyone opened their eyes, disbelief was written across every face.

The little girl was unharmed.

“This… this is a miracle!” a bystander exclaimed, astonished by the girl’s narrow escape.

“I can’t believe it,” another muttered, slapping his own face as if to prove he wasn’t seeing things.

Many simply breathed out in relief.

At the last moment, the black car had swerved sharply, missing the girl by a hair’s breadth.

“Mommy!” the frightened girl ran to her mother, just three meters away.

Seeing her daughter safe, the woman burst into tears of relief, her heart still racing from the brush with death.

The car had whizzed past both mother and child, the chill of death lingering in the woman’s chest.

Regaining her senses, she looked toward where Qian Guan had stood, dazed. “Where did he go? He was just here…”

Little did she know that Qian Guan had left as soon as the car changed direction, nor that it was his shout that saved her life.

From the start, Qian Guan’s focus had been on the woman; he knew the girl would be safe, but it was the mother who truly teetered on the edge of death.

...

Sunlight filled the sky, the day cloudless and bright.

In the Ancient Linguistics lecture hall at XXX University in City Z, the room was abuzz with noise.

“Hey, did you hear? Last night there was a mother-daughter near-miss on Wangfu Street!” Fang He, with his large mouth and awkward, bespectacled face, spread the tale around the room.

“Fang He, cut the nonsense. A mother-daughter near-miss? Yesterday you went on about an aerial stunt—now it’s a mother-daughter tale? I think you’re sleepwalking!” Mo Han teased, his burly frame looming over Fang He.

“Get lost, you’re the one who’s sleepwalking!” Fang He retorted, dodging to one side.

“Fang He, are you talking about the black Porsche last night that almost hit a mother and daughter?” Jiang Qiang asked eagerly, her large eyes blinking with curiosity.

“Yes, that’s it! You heard about it too? It was intense! I swear, even God would’ve been terrified!” Fang He crowded closer to Jiang Qiang, animated in his recounting.

Fang He always sought any chance to speak with Jiang Qiang, entranced by her beauty.

“Enough with the God talk—you must’ve been scared silly.” Jiang Qiang laughed, her white teeth and rosy lips making Fang He squint with delight.

“Qian Guan, I heard you just moved to Wangfu Street. Did you see it last night?” Mo Han, remembering Qian Guan’s new address, hurried over to ask.

“Yes, it did happen,” Qian Guan answered evenly.

“You saw it with your own eyes?” Mo Han’s curiosity was piqued.

Before Qian Guan could answer, Jiang Qiang shoved Mo Han aside. “Get away from Qian Guan! That’s not your spot,” she scolded, standing protectively by Qian Guan.

“Come on, Jiang Qiang, you’re being territorial. We all know you like Qian Guan, but do you have to guard him from everyone?” Mo Han protested, clearly annoyed.

“Mind your own business!” Jiang Qiang shot back.

“Alright, enough. Let’s hear Qian Guan’s story about last night,” Fang He intervened, worried the bickering would escalate.

“Yes, I saw it. It ended without tragedy, fortunately,” Qian Guan replied with a calm, gentle smile.

“Heavens, tell us what happened!” Fang He urged, unable to contain himself.

“Yeah, come on, tell us!” Mo Han echoed, his interest piqued.

The entire class was now crowding around, clamoring for details.

“Quiet, let him speak! If anyone interrupts, they’ll answer to me!” Jiang Qiang’s fiery temper flared as she shielded Qian Guan.

Yet as the class buzzed with excitement around Qian Guan, there was one person who sat quietly in the corner, serene and undisturbed.