Chapter Thirty-Eight: A Picnic by the Road

While Hu Bi and Wenwen were busy hurting each other in the drainage ditch, Zheng Nanfang and his group finally arrived, fashionably late, at the edge of the dense forest. The pair of rampaging young women didn’t provoke Viper any further. Instead, they raced alongside for a while before overtaking, flipping a middle finger and tossing a parting remark lost in the wind. Zheng Nanfang didn’t catch it, but Tang Su, reading lips, supplied the answer: “Just you wait.”

“You two really are something. The race’s barely started and you’re already stirring up trouble. That’s a grudge you’ve earned for good,” Shaman sighed, pressing her forehead in exasperation. “This road’s already a deadly one—can’t we just keep a low profile? The more enemies, the more dangerous it is for us.”

“There was never any real safety to be had,” Shu Onion replied calmly. Perhaps it was her time in the Deep Blue Asylum, or the influence of Hong Xiangcai, but matters of life and death seemed to faze her little.

Tang Su let out a light laugh, teasing, “Those two are just like Sister Hong—love to see the world in chaos.”

Feeling the sting of their jokes, Zheng Nanfang protested, “Most of the time, trouble finds me, not the other way around.”

The three women only smiled, their soft laughter betraying that they saw through him long ago.

As they bantered, the road ahead vanished, replaced by a swath of tangled forest, from which branched numerous uncertain paths.

“Where’s Old Hu?” Zheng Nanfang slowed the car, scanning the area, but the Red Bird was nowhere to be seen.

Other drivers sped past, scattering down whatever routes seemed right or wrong, leaving Viper at the rear once more.

Just as confusion set in, the sound of gunfire echoed from the woods.

The three women exchanged glances, sharing the same suspicion: Could it be Hu Bi causing trouble again?

Zheng Nanfang frowned in thought before starting the engine and turning into the forest.

“The roads in there are rough. We’d be better off skirting around,” Tang Su said with worry, watching the trees slide past the window. “Maybe Brother Hu already went ahead. We shouldn’t go looking for trouble.”

Zheng Nanfang shook his head. “We’re not after Old Hu—I have something else in mind.”

“What is it?” Shaman asked, puzzled.

A sly smile crept over Zheng Nanfang’s face as his hand slid up and down Tang Su’s smooth thigh. “Tang Su’s right—the forest roads are tricky. Plenty of cars went in, and some unlucky ones are bound to get stuck.”

Tang Su blinked, then caught on, drawing his hand toward her inner thigh and closing her eyes in contentment. “True. Catching someone alone in the woods is the perfect chance—no one will notice.”

Shaman and Shu Onion realized belatedly, nodding in agreement.

With a smile, Zheng Nanfang gripped the wheel in one hand, his fingertips gently caressing with the other. Soon, the sound of water splashing softly filled the car’s interior.

…

Minutes later, the four in the car sat dumbfounded, each face more embarrassed than the last.

Who would have thought—the Viper, brimming with confidence and ready to hunt down stragglers, hadn’t seen a single car. Instead, they’d driven themselves into a dead end, becoming the very unfortunates they’d spoken of.

“Just bad luck,” Zheng Nanfang laughed at himself, turning the car around to try another path.

Tang Su, cheeks flushed, straightened abruptly in her seat, then relaxed again, letting out a long breath. Her eyes seductive, she pulled Zheng Nanfang’s hand to her lips, licking clean his moisture-drenched fingers.

In that daze, a flash of red caught the corner of her eye.

“Hey, hey!” Tang Su exclaimed, pointing southwest. “The Red Bird’s over there!”

Zheng Nanfang slammed the brakes and looked. Sure enough, hidden among the branches, the Red Bird was perched.

Shaman burst into laughter. “Looks like you two are the only unlucky souls in this forest.”

Shu Onion and Tang Su laughed too, thinking Hu Bi must have ended up in the same dead end as Zheng Nanfang.

With a resigned sigh, Zheng Nanfang endured the girls’ teasing, turning the car toward the Red Bird.

Dawn was breaking, slender rays filtering through the lush canopy as a fresh breeze rustled the leaves with a gentle whisper.

As Viper approached, the mood in the car grew serious. They saw beyond the Red Bird a deep gully, where a commercial van had crashed nose-first.

“Wait in the car. Honk if anything happens,” Zheng Nanfang ordered, drawing his steel saw-blade before stepping out. He scanned the Red Bird for damage but saw none.

A faint whiff of gunpowder drifted to his nose—likely from the gunshots they’d heard earlier.

“Hm?” Zheng Nanfang’s expression turned odd, his brows furrowed as he crept closer to the overturned van.

There were sounds—human voices. But… something about them was off, as if they didn’t belong here…

Hesitant, Zheng Nanfang edged closer to the ditch, the voices growing clearer: a man’s rough panting, a woman’s muffled, pained moaning…

Peering past the upturned rear of the van, the scene in the ditch came into full view.

—

A blood-soaked man lay in a crimson pool, seemingly lifeless.

Nearby, the bear-like Hu Bi was astride a woman, thrusting vigorously. The woman lay face-down, both arms limp and unresponsive as if broken, only able to utter guttural cries in rhythm with Hu Bi’s movements.

…

Zheng Nanfang was speechless. He didn’t disturb Hu Bi, silently returning to the car, where he lit a cigarette, helplessly amused.

The three women exchanged baffled looks.

“What… what happened? Where’s Brother Hu?” Shaman asked.

“Well…” Zheng Nanfang coughed, looking embarrassed. “He’s fine. Let’s just wait a bit.”

His vague answer only made the girls more curious.

“Can we go check?” Shu Onion asked.

“Go ahead…”

A few minutes later, the three returned, rolling their eyes so hard they nearly disappeared into their skulls, cheeks flushed, speechless.

“Was it a good show?” Zheng Nanfang asked, barely suppressing a laugh.

Shaman and Shu Onion shot him a glare, while Tang Su, her face rosy, dared not meet his eyes—after all, she herself had just indulged in a secret moment of pleasure.

“I give up on you two—you don’t care about your lives at all?” Shaman despaired. “We’re in a race! At this rate, we’ll be dead last!”

“Don’t blame me,” Zheng Nanfang shrugged, steeling himself. He realized they truly couldn’t waste any more time, and leaned on the horn.

…

In the ditch, Hu Bi, busy testing the woman’s stamina, jolted at the sound, hurriedly dressed and hauled the woman up.

Exhausted, her arms dangling, the woman still refused to back down, hissing through clenched teeth, “Go on—finish me if you can.”

“No rush, I’ve got plenty of time to break you in,” Hu Bi spat, tossed up a bag he’d looted, and scrambled out of the ditch, one hand gripping the supplies, the other slinging the woman over his shoulder like a triumphant general as he strode toward the Red Bird.

He stuffed the woman into the car and knocked on Viper’s window, flashing a big grin.

Only now did the group see the extent of Hu Bi’s injuries, gasping in shock.

“Damn, what happened to you?” Zheng Nanfang squinted at the bloody hole in his shoulder. “A real iron man—took a bullet and still kept firing.”

Hu Bi guffawed, thrusting his hips lewdly. “You know it! A drop of kindness deserves a whole spring in return. She shot me, so now she’ll pay in full.”

“Pervert,” the three women muttered in unison, for once in total agreement.

Hu Bi scratched himself, divvied up some supplies for Viper, and smacked his lips. “Luck was on my side—I almost rolled into the gutter for good.”

“Isn’t this the duo we saw before starting out?” Tang Su, sharp-eyed and sharp-minded, recognized the woman’s outfit and the van.

Hu Bi nodded. “That’s them. The woman’s cunning as a fox—she fooled even me.”

Shaman curled her lip in disdain. “As long as there’s a mouth between her legs, you’re easy prey.”

“Enough jokes,” Zheng Nanfang cut in. “We’re already behind—let’s catch up. Also, why bring her along?”

“Still have a score to settle.” Hu Bi waved it off, explained a shortcut to Tang Su, and let Shu Onion patch him up before returning to the Red Bird, ready to set off again.

The woman slumped in the passenger seat, eyes glaring at Hu Bi through tangled hair. “You’d better kill me, or I’ll pay you back double when I get the chance.”

Hu Bi laughed, unconcerned. Deliberately, he squeezed her breast hard, grinning only when she gasped in pain. “I love breaking wild horses. Here’s some advice: don’t make trouble for yourself. Be my plaything and I’ll treat you well. Cause trouble again and I’ll cut off your hands and feet, pull your teeth, and still use you just as well. The road’s open—you choose.”

…

At the same time, on the main highway—

The lead pack, having seized the advantage early, now dominated the race. Had Zheng Nanfang’s group been present, they would have been shocked to find the leader was none other than the so-called pauper in the garish vintage floral shirt.

Tang Su had mocked his shabby car before, but people—and their cars—can’t be judged by appearances. This unremarkable, almost comical man, driving a vehicle much ridiculed by others, now held a commanding first place.

…

Floral Shirt, humming a tune, rolled down his window in high spirits. Glancing at the tenacious car behind him, he whistled jauntily, grabbed a handful of caltrops from the passenger seat, and tossed them out.

The silver-gray Wind Child behind him spotted the trick in time, swerving to avoid the hazard, but not everyone was so lucky.

Two modified yellow Camaros, racing side by side, hit the spikes. With a sharp hiss, their tires blew, wheels flinging off in a shower of sparks as they spun out of control, veering wildly before tumbling off the roadside.

Floral Shirt grinned, his handlebar mustache curling with pride.

The pack thundered past. The two cars that crashed lay still, dust settling.

One was totaled, its front end a twisted wreck. That driver, likely not in the habit of wearing a seatbelt, had been flung out and then crushed to a pulp by his own tumbling car.

The other Camaro was luckier—only one tire was blown. The driver managed to skid it to a halt, and neither occupant was seriously hurt.

The passenger crawled out first, then pulled the driver through the window—both dressed punk, bristling with chains and covered in fierce tattoos.

The driver’s head had smashed against the windshield, splitting his forehead and streaming blood.

“Damn it,” cursed the passenger, scowling at the car pack roaring away.

The driver, still dizzy from the crash, sat dazed, not knowing where or who he was.

The passenger checked the damage and looked up to see a man and woman approaching across the field.

“Hey, someone’s coming,” he nudged his dazed companion, slipping a tactical knife from his belt.

The driver, blood streaming into his eyes, squinted through a red haze.

The pair walked with slow, powerful strides, arriving at the Camaro.

The man bore a terrible scar across his face. He glanced at the car and asked, “Can it still run?”

The passenger hesitated, glancing at the woman before muttering, “Tire’s blown.”

“No spare?” the man pressed.

The passenger nodded uncertainly.

The man’s gaze shifted to the other wreck. “There’s one over there. Use that car’s.”

The passenger reflexively agreed, then paused—why am I listening to him? Who is he?

“If you don’t swap it, you’ll fall behind,” the woman said coldly, as if reading his mind. “Or can’t you change a tire?”

“I can, I can,” the passenger stammered, not knowing why he was so easily ordered about by these strangers.

He changed the tire, then tested the car—aside from a spiderweb crack in the windshield, it was fine.

He got out to help his still-dazed friend and noticed the pair standing motionless like lampposts. “What—something else?”

The man nodded. “Yes. Waiting for you to get out.”

“What?” the passenger frowned.

The man ignored him, got into the driver’s seat, and closed the door.

“Hey, get out!” the passenger finally snapped, brandishing his knife. “Don’t you dare steal my—ahhhh!”

His scream cut off abruptly.

The woman had silently appeared behind him, and with both hands on his shoulders, she bared two sharp fangs and bit deep into his neck.

The driver slumped by the wheel, watching in horror as his friend’s face drained of color to a deathly pallor.

The woman released her grip, letting the body collapse. She wiped the blood from her lips, sucked her finger clean, then smiled and walked toward him.