Inside a private room at a restaurant, two middle-aged men sat across from each other. One appeared composed, the other, rather forthright, yet neither had touched the lavish spread before them; only rings of smoke drifted lazily between them.

“Old Cai, about this matter…”

“Need I say more, Old Zheng? Look at the strength of your Hungry Wolf Gang, and then look at my Soaring Eagle Gang. You know perfectly well what they are. But still, I refuse to believe a gang that mastered the art of quiet retreat twenty years ago can pose any threat to us!” The words were spoken with bravado, yet a chilling glint flashed in his eyes.

This man was Cai Jian, the leader of the Soaring Eagle Gang. He and the other man, Zheng Shen, leader of the Hungry Wolf Gang, had risen in the martial world around the same time. The fact that the eternally feuding Hungry Wolf Gang and Soaring Wolf Gang were now allied was utterly perplexing to outsiders.

“I once thought the same way, but this whole situation feels decidedly ominous!” Zheng Shen stated calmly.

“Ominous? How so?” Cai Jian pressed.

Zheng Shen glanced at him, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. “Don’t you think it’s strange? The Ice Mirror Society seems utterly unconcerned about this. After all, their young mistress was nearly killed by that Serpent Ghost.”

“Hmm, now that you mention it, I find it rather peculiar too. The Ice Mirror Society has been completely silent. Could it be…” Cai Jian frowned, deep in thought.

Zheng Shen knew he was catching on to something and smiled faintly. “I suspect the current state of the Ice Mirror Society is much as you imagine. Moreover, I recently dispatched men to investigate that Black God Gang. While we haven't uncovered much, we at least know that the Ice Mirror Society and the Black God Gang maintain a secretive vigilance over each other!”

“So, what’s your plan?” Cai Jian narrowed his eyes, exhaling a perfect smoke ring.

“We go all in, no looking back!” A ghostly smile flickered across Zheng Shen’s lips.

“Yes, a good plan indeed. However, isn't this a bit risky, if the Ice Mirror Society truly is…” Cai Jian began.

“Rest assured. As long as we two join forces, forget being outside the city; even within A City, they won't have a place to stand!”

As Zheng Shen finished speaking, Cai Jian immediately cheered. “Excellent! Here, Old Zheng, a toast to our two gangs uniting.”

“To our alliance!” A strange, almost wicked gleam briefly crossed Zheng Shen’s eyes before receding, leaving only a smiling mask as he looked at Cai Jian.

“Phew, those brutes, damn it, they really wore me out. Guess I won't be making that afternoon class.” At this moment, Yang Yi, having successfully evaded his pursuers, collapsed beside a large tree, gazing out at a serene lake. A strange sense of calm settled over him.

“Fireworks in the third month to Yangzhou, April like spring dressing up in crimson!” Yang Yi suddenly found inspiration in the lake’s surface and began reciting poetry. One had to wonder: how could this scoundrel also be a poet?

Just then, a female voice, as if responding to his verse, murmured softly, a delicate brow furrowing before a faint smile touched her lips. “Fireworks in the third month to Yangzhou—that’s a beautiful line. I’ve heard it before, but ‘April like spring dressing up in crimson’? I admit, I am ignorant of that phrasing.”

Hearing the voice, Yang Yi snapped to attention, muttering inwardly, When did a girl sneak up here? He glanced around skeptically but saw no one. Seemingly bored, he called out, “The next line was my own addition. Did you find it lacking?”

“Heh heh, in ancient times, the fourth month was known as the month of rain, with water showering down continuously, year after year. Though it connects to spring, how could it possibly ‘dress in crimson’?” the woman inquired with a soft laugh.

“Uh!” Yang Yi’s face lit up with a smile upon hearing her erudite reply. “Fireworks in the third month to Yangzhou, April like spring dressing up in crimson; the fifth month sees falling wild geese blossoms, the sixth month, white spirits flying over Ling Mountain. If you look at the scene on the lake now, you’ll understand why I recited that poem.”

The woman hadn't expected Yang Yi to ignore her question and instead add lines for May and June. However, when he directed her gaze toward the lake, she looked. Beneath the water’s surface was a small rock garden. A tiny red speck sat atop the garden’s peak, from which wisps of white material constantly floated upward—perhaps something akin to bacteria, yet these white specks drifted forth with such grace, mirroring the poem he had just recited.

Seeing this, the woman’s face registered surprise. “So, you recited that because you saw this? The description is astonishingly apt.”

“Heh heh, you flatter me, you flatter me.” Yang Yi offered a wry smile, rising to his feet, ready to head back to class. But at that moment, the woman suddenly asked, “Are you leaving?”

“Uh!” Yang Yi froze, turning back to face her. He stared, struck dumb, as a cascade of memories and fleeting images flooded his mind. In that instant, he realized how incredibly close fate had brought him.

“Hello there, classmate. May I ask your name? I find your appreciation for ancient poetry quite charming, and I’d like to get to know you.” The woman smiled sweetly, a natural expression that nonetheless possessed the power to captivate anyone.

For the first time, Yang Yi realized she was even more beautiful than he had previously noticed. However, interrupting a lady was poor form. Despite being a scoundrel, he possessed a certain standard of conduct. With sincere humility, he offered a faint smile. “You’re too kind, classmate. But perhaps before asking for my name, you should offer yours? That way, neither of us is at a disadvantage!”

“Pfft!” The woman chuckled, breaking into laughter. “You are rather interesting, classmate. Well, my name is Xia Shiyun, a student in Class Three of the Senior Year.”

Hearing her laugh, Yang Yi’s heart quickened, racing with an ardent thought: Yes, yes, absolutely, I must make her my girlfriend, absolutely! This powerful desire, however, remained unvoiced. “My name is Yang Yi, a student in Class One of the Senior Year.”

“Yang Yi?” The woman—now Xia Shiyun—hesitated slightly upon hearing his name and asked, “Are you the scoundrel who played the piano at the school mixer?”

“Uh, ha ha, indeed, that’s me!” Yang Yi was genuinely stunned. He hadn't expected to be so famous. Hearing Xia Shiyun knew his name filled him with conflicting joy and embarrassment, especially when she called him a scoundrel, which, admittedly, he was.

“Oh, then that really is…”

“Shiyun, Shiyun!” Just as Xia Shiyun was about to say something more, someone called out sharply.

“Oh, I’m coming!” Xia Shiyun replied, offering Yang Yi an apologetic smile. “If we have another chance, we’ll chat properly. I have to go now, please excuse me.”

“Mm,” Yang Yi nodded in response. He watched her retreating back and murmured, “There will be a chance. There will be a chance.” The moment he finished speaking, his expression hardened, a chilling light flashing in his eyes. “Trash always chooses the most inconvenient times to cause trouble.”

[Apologies, brothers. Your little brother has been sick today and spent a long time receiving an IV drip, which is why the update is late. I am very sorry. Please support me heartily so we can reach the peak of popularity. Charge!]