The Remaining Third Chapter Forty-Two Impolite

Saving someone is like fighting a fire—Han Yuan, worrying about his sister, wished he could sprout wings and fly. Glancing back at the pig-and-monkey duo, his anxiety grew; how could anyone refuse a luxury car delivered right to their door? Wasn’t that sheer foolishness? There was nothing good about this battered taxi, reeking with an unpleasant stench. If not for a desperate urge to shake off that clingy yellow-haired nuisance, Han Yuan would never have stolen such a vehicle—it was utterly beneath his standards.

Filthy and dilapidated, the taxi rattled incessantly whenever the speed climbed and the road grew uneven, as if it were about to fall apart, its loose parts jingling a discordant tune. A junk car, singing while losing pieces. Han Yuan, driven by urgency and frustration, couldn’t spare time for curses. He silently extended his left hand, raising his middle finger, then gripped the steering wheel tighter and pressed down hard on the accelerator. The dashboard needle soared to its maximum.

Every man believes himself the king of the mountain when he clutches the wheel. Hou San, realizing Han Yuan had no intention to cooperate, scoffed, “There’s no five consecutive hairpin turns here. I could let you have a ten-minute head start, doesn’t matter. Don’t forget, I’m driving a ‘Don’t Touch Me,’ 3.0T, turbocharged.” He tapped the gas a few times. “Listen to that roar—it’s explosive!”

Zhu Dachang, eyes wide with feigned bravado, glanced at the dashboard, shrank his neck, and covered his face with both hands, muttering prayers.

Hou San shot Zhu Dachang a look of exasperation. “Look at you, such a coward! Only 180 kph and you’re scared already? Later, I’ll show you—straight to 260!” With that, Hou San floored the gas pedal. The sports car surged forward, the powerful thrust pressing them back into their seats. Speed climbed swiftly and soon they caught up with Han Yuan, racing side-by-side with the taxi. Hou San raised his right hand, flashing his middle finger at Han Yuan, taunting, “Go on, you turtle, run faster! I warn you, stop right now or else—”

Zhu Dachang, unable to bear Hou San’s urge for more speed, interrupted, “San-ge, you can’t go any faster! Slow down!”

“Slow down, my ass! One more push and I’ll overtake that turtle, cut him off…” Hou San shot Zhu Dachang another disdainful glance and stomped the accelerator again. “If you’re scared, just keep your eyes shut—don’t interrupt!”

Zhu Dachang pursed his lips, his face growing paler. He stammered, “San-ge… I fitted cheap tires on this car, the rating is 88S…”

A sense of foreboding swept over Hou San. He turned to Zhu Dachang. “What do you mean?”

“88 is the load index, S is the speed limit…” Zhu Dachang’s face drained of color as he looked at the dashboard. “You always say love your trade, so I crammed some tire knowledge lately. S-rated tires max out at 180 kph—any faster and disaster strikes…”

Hou San was stunned, eyes wide. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“I wanted to, but you wouldn’t let me…” Zhu Dachang pouted, aggrieved.

Before Zhu Dachang finished speaking, deafening explosions erupted on both sides of the sports car. The vehicle instantly lost control, swerving wildly toward the taxi.

In moments of panic, even a monkey can’t utter a word. Watching the two cars careening toward each other, Hou San could only claw at his head in desperate silence.

Han Yuan heard the blast, glanced sideways, and his expression froze. His eyes twitched, mouth agape as he cursed, “Damn!”

When people collide, feelings may spark; when cars collide, only danger ignites.

The sides of both cars scraped against each other, sending sparks flying. Han Yuan and Hou San watched, hearts pounding in terror. In perfect synchronicity, they both slammed the brakes, yanked the handbrake, and gripped the steering wheel tightly. Like a pair of ballet dancers, they met each other’s gaze, letting inertia spin them forward together.

The ordeal was both brief and eternal—thirteen seconds that felt like a lifetime. Luck held; the cars didn’t crash head-on, and the sparks caused no further disaster. They finally came to a halt.

But their luck ended there. Whether luxury coupe or battered taxi, both vehicles were now battered ruins, white smoke billowing from their hoods, utterly incapacitated.

Han Yuan and Hou San both exhaled deeply, pushing open their doors and stepping out.

As they walked toward each other, Han Yuan mentally rehearsed how to use his silver tongue to resolve the situation. This was not the first time he’d handled such matters; there was no real enmity between them. If everyone sat down and talked calmly, any issue could be settled amicably—better to resolve grudges than deepen them.

Though Hou San was seething, he admired Han Yuan’s calm demeanor, recognizing a seasoned hand. He, too, feigned composure, stopping two meters from Han Yuan, ready to speak. But Zhu Dachang suddenly rushed forward, positioning himself between the two.

Han Yuan, seeing Zhu Dachang approach, cleared his throat, a slight smile at his lips. He straightened his collar and extended his right hand. “Brother, we meet again…”

Zhu Dachang had no intention of shaking hands. Without a word, he swung the stone he’d picked up from the roadside, striking Han Yuan’s head with a blank expression.

Han Yuan’s vision instantly darkened. He touched his bleeding forehead, eyes wide as copper bells, and muttered angrily, “No manners at all.” Then he collapsed.

Hou San shoved Zhu Dachang aside, glanced at the unconscious, bloodied Han Yuan, then at Zhu Dachang, swallowing nervously. “What are you doing?”

“Strike first to gain the advantage,” Zhu Dachang replied, tossing the stone aside and dusting his hands. “That’s what you taught me, San-ge…”

“That depends on the situation. He was clearly trying to talk first and fight later…” Hou San sighed in resignation. “This guy managed to steal a taxi without a key—clearly as skilled as that yellow-haired kid. We’re all in the same business here, and this city is his turf. By street rules, we should have greeted him if we wanted to operate in A City. Now you’ve messed it up, we’ll have trouble establishing ourselves here…”

Zhu Dachang scratched his head, confused. “Ah? So what now? Should I wake him up?”

Seeing Zhu Dachang roll up his sleeves and prepare to slap Han Yuan awake, Hou San quickly stopped him. “Forget it. The feud is set. Even if you wake him now, there’s no room for negotiation…”

Just then, Hou San heard the distant wail of police sirens. He frowned, walked to the taxi’s trunk, grabbed a black duffel bag, and pulled Zhu Dachang along. “Hurry up! The police have definitely been watching these people, waiting for a chance to nab everyone at once. That’s the old ‘mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind’ trick—I know it well! If we don’t leave now, we’ll be taken as accomplices. If they find what’s in this bag, we’ll be in real trouble—mud on your trousers, whether it’s filth or not, it’s still filth!”