I pressed the woman against the motorcycle and said firmly, "Don't be nervous. As long as you don't do anything stupid, I won't hurt you. Something has gone very wrong, and it's critical for me to figure out what happened. Once I've sorted things out, I'll let you go safely."
She caught her breath, seemingly trying to calm herself. I wasn't sure if she understood, but she nodded.
I had her sit in front of me on the motorcycle while I rode behind, wrapping my arms around her for stability. If she sat behind me, I worried she might try to jump off, which would be too dangerous.
Considerate as I was, I gave her the only helmet. I just wanted the truth—I had no desire to hurt a stranger.
Once the motorcycle started moving, she was relatively calm, no longer resisting like before. I rode with her, planning to find a secluded spot to question her and then decide whether to let her go.
But as we reached the provincial highway, something went wrong!
Taking advantage of her helmet, the woman suddenly grabbed the throttle and twisted it hard, while rocking her body violently!
The motorcycle swerved wildly, the frame scraping the road and sending up sparks. I could barely keep my balance!
Panicking, I reached for the brake, but she threw her body against mine, blocking me. With another violent lurch, the motorcycle lost all control!
My god!
The sensation of falling hit me instantly. The ground rushed up. We were doing sixty miles per hour—I couldn't imagine what crashing at this speed would do!
In desperation, I grabbed her around the waist, gripping her dress, using it like reins. I drove my knee into her back, turning her into a human cushion!
She never expected such a ruthless move. She let out a hysterical scream as we hit the ground, her body scraping and sliding across the asphalt. Her helmet sparked against the road, and her scream turned to an agonizing wail!
When we finally stopped sliding, momentum threw me forward. I tumbled and rolled, but I was essentially unharmed. The woman, however, couldn't even get up. Her dress was shredded at the hem, her knees bloody and raw—she was clearly badly hurt.
As for the motorcycle, it had flown beneath the highway guardrail and tumbled down the slope below.
I walked over to her, gasping for breath. "I told you not to move. What was that about?"
She said weakly, "You bastard... treating a girl like that..."
I didn't understand what she meant.
I'd always thought a man only needed to cherish the woman he loved. It hadn't occurred to me that I needed to be considerate of other women too. Maybe I was lacking in basic decency, but I'd been terrified.
"If you don't do anything reckless, this won't happen. Can you stand? Let me help you."
I reached out to pull her up, but just then, the sound of an engine grew rapidly louder, approaching at high speed.
I turned and was nearly blinded by high beams—a vehicle was bearing down on us!
Was it the woman's accomplice?
No—the earlier car had been a black sedan. This was a white SUV.
The vehicle was about to hit us. My instinct was to run, and I tried to pull the woman up and carry her out of the way like they do in the movies. But when I actually tried, I discovered that TV was a lie—no normal person can scoop up a woman and dodge a car in a split second without tearing muscles.
My arms screamed in pain. Thinking fast, I abandoned the lift and grabbed her by the legs, yanking her sideways and using momentum to swing her out of the path.
She was already injured, and being dragged like that drew another scream of pain. But at least we'd avoided being hit.
As the SUV passed, I saw who was inside—Swallow Lin and the truck driver!
The vehicle missed us on the first pass and immediately made a sharp U-turn, coming at us again. I knew we had a score to settle, but I hadn't expected his revenge to come this fast.
I could only limp out of the way, but no one can outrun a car.
The side of the SUV clipped me—not a direct hit, but the force still sent me tumbling.
The SUV finally stopped.
The door opened and the driver stepped out, sickle in hand, snarling: "You bastard! Weren't you tough earlier? Didn't you say if I didn't kill you, you'd kill me? Fine—I'll kill you right now!"
He raised the sickle and swung it at my head. I couldn't dodge in time and instinctively shoved the backpack full of money in front of me as a shield.
Seeing the sickle nearly hit the money, he pulled back. Instead, he kicked me in the ribs, flipping me over.
Every kick came with a curse. His hatred for me was palpable.
I couldn't escape, so I used the money bag to protect my vital organs. When he got frustrated, he grabbed the backpack and tried to yank it away. I held on—until he raised the sickle again, and I let go rather than lose a hand.
Come to think of it, it wasn't my money anyway. No sense dying for it.
The woman, however, was furious. She screamed for him to let go of her money and pushed through the pain to stand up. She ripped off her helmet and charged the driver, using it as a weapon.
But before she could swing it, he slapped her so hard she staggered, then kicked her back to the ground.
She'd tried. It hadn't accomplished much.
"Tonight, both of you die here," the driver muttered. He called out to Swallow, telling her to get ready.
Swallow got out of the car and walked over to me. She spat on the ground and snarled, "You're the piece of trash who messed with my brother. Didn't you steal our truck? What are you doing back here? Looking to die? Where's the truck?"
I glared at her. These two were utterly without principles, surviving entirely by double-crossing people.
The driver raised his sickle again. I had nowhere to dodge and nothing to block with.
Under the streetlight, the blade gleamed, as if announcing my death.
In the quiet night, sirens suddenly wailed in the distance.
Swallow and the driver both froze. They turned toward the sound, which was growing rapidly closer.
I knew the police were coming for me.
Thank God they were coming for me.
Swallow panicked and asked her brother, "Are the cops here for us?"
"I don't know why there are cops. Let's get out of here."
Swallow cursed their bad luck. They had no choice but to abandon the attack. The driver pointed at me one last time, warning me never to let him see me again.
I watched them retreat, my mind a whirlwind.
Was this how it ended?
Would my story end with being captured by the police, then facing trial for a crime I didn't commit—arson?
I told myself I hadn't lost yet. I just hadn't given it everything I had...
The driver was getting further away. I finally found my courage and roared as I launched myself at him!
He turned in surprise just as I leaped, driving my knee squarely into his face!
The driver's body slammed backward into the car door with a tremendous bang.
He crumpled to the ground and immediately started rummaging in his pocket. I wasn't surprised—this coward who fought dirty relied on tools. He pulled out the pepper spray again, but this time I was ready. I lunged forward and slapped my hand over the nozzle!
The concentrated pepper spray blasted onto my palm. Even though it didn't hit my face, the burning pain was so intense my hand shook.
I hadn't lost yet...
I refused to lose here. I would never fail the people I loved again!
I kicked him in the face, keeping him pinned, then crouched down and smeared the pepper spray from my hand directly across his face!
The driver contorted in agony, clutching his face, rolling and screaming, unable to open his eyes.
Swallow panicked. Seeing me turn the tide, she started punching my back and clawing at my face. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and roared, "Are you fighting like a child?"
I shoved her head down and slammed it into the hood of the car!
The impact was thunderous. Swallow, who'd been so insolent before, was completely subdued. She clutched her mouth—the same one she'd spat from—and blood poured from her lips. She screamed in pain, her teeth stained red.
This was my chance...
I shoved Swallow aside. I didn't have time to finish the fight. I jumped into the driver's seat.
Seeing me take the car, Swallow threw herself in front of the door. I punched her hard in the stomach, and she collapsed, doubling over in pain.
With no one in my way, I slammed the door shut!
Swallow had left the keys in the ignition when she got out. The vehicle was now completely under my control!
The driver was desperate. He stumbled to his feet, squinting through pepper-spray-blinded eyes, pounding on the window. I hit the lock button. No matter how he yanked the handle, the door wouldn't budge.
I shifted into gear and hit the gas. The fool held onto the door handle as if the car was more important than his life. He was dragged along until his feet couldn't keep up, and he tumbled, rolling hard across the pavement.
I made a U-turn and stared down the two of them.
If they wanted to keep coming, I'd give it right back—ten times over. They could try to run me over; I could do the same to them!
The sirens grew louder. Swallow helped the driver to his feet. They panicked at the approaching police and actually abandoned both me and the car, grabbing the backpack and fleeing on foot.
With the police closing in, Swallow and the driver scrambled in panic and threw themselves over the highway guardrail and down the hillside.
I couldn't believe how terrified they were of the police. But then again, they were career criminals—it made sense.
And yet... I was also terrified of the police.
I gasped for air, every part of my body aching and exhausted. But I knew this wasn't over.
I couldn't leave the mysterious woman here, or all my efforts would be wasted.
I drove over to her, opened the door, and pulled her into the passenger seat. I said between breaths, "The police are almost here. Drive! You already betrayed me once—if there's a second time, I'll kill you. Listen carefully: you were selling illegal gold. If the police catch you, you'll rot in prison too!"