Trafford's Trading Club

550: Heartbeat 550: Heartbeat Editor: TheSloth When the night was deep and silent, and Xiao Zhi had already fallen fast asleep, San Er finally filled a bucket of water, grabbed a brush and some detergent, and quietly headed to the back door.

The red words scrawled in front of her house…

She could only choose to scrub them off herself at this time.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to do business tomorrow.

This kind of thing, done by a woman…

She had to do everything herself.

But as she headed to the back, planning to open the door, she realized it was ajar.

This shocked San Er, and she even heard some strange sounds!

San Er’s heart jolted, and she grabbed a pole that was placed by the side, cautiously peeking through the gap of the door.

But what she saw was Mr.

Markem, who had set an oil lamp on the ground and was holding a brush in his hand—he was scrubbing the red words off the wall.

Creak—the wooden door’s hinge sounded as it moved.

“You…” San Er stepped out.

Mr.

Markem—Kuck just glanced at her, but didn’t stop what he was doing.

He continued scrubbing the red words from the wall.

Seeing that Mr.

Markem said nothing, San Er silently brought out the bucket of water she had prepared and joined in scrubbing from another side, wordlessly.

With the lamp shining, the letters scrawled in paint were blinding, bloody-red, as if veins of blood clung to the wall.

San Er’s eyes turned red, her heart tightening painfully, and she started scrubbing with all her strength.

She didn’t know how long had passed.

Suddenly, she heard Mr.

Markem’s voice.

He said, “I’ll be leaving here tomorrow morning.”

San Er’s body trembled slightly.

She said nothing, just scrubbed even harder.

“You shouldn’t stay here, either.

This place isn’t for you.”

San Er heard Mr.

Markem’s voice again.

Her movements slowed, and she forced a bitter smile, “Leave?

Where can I go?

I don’t know how to do anything—how am I supposed to survive out there?”

“The human ability to survive is always beyond our own imagination.”

San Er stopped her hand and looked at Mr.

Markem…

This tall, mysterious, powerfully built man said these words as if he had an aura of overwhelming persuasiveness.

But.

“Easy for you to say.

I still have to take care of my daughter.

How am I supposed to live out there?” San Er protested, the grievances in her heart swelling, “Outside, I don’t know a single person.

There isn’t even anyone I can talk to.

Tell me—how am I supposed to live?”

“You don’t have a single person to talk to here, either.”

Mr.

Markem still appeared as indifferent as ever.

San Er threw the brush into the bucket with a splash, then sat on the back steps, covering her face and sobbing quietly…

She had just heard something that hurt far too deeply.

He frowned slightly, looking at San Er.

On reflex, he took a step forward—but suddenly stopped, sensing that comforting her might lead to unnecessary entanglements.

And also…

He heard faint footsteps approaching.

Kuck spun around instantly!

He saw four men, faces crudely wrapped with towels, carrying iron bars and a bucket, creeping closer.

“Who are you?” Kuck demanded in a low, cold voice.

Three men dressed like this in the dead of night obviously couldn’t be up to any good.

On hearing his challenge, they showed no fear—instead, glancing at one another, they strode forward without any hesitation.

There were four of them, holding iron bars.

Would they really be scared of just one foreigner?

San Er, hearing the commotion, hurriedly looked over, her face instantly filled with fear.

Instinctively, she stood up.

“Did you write these things on the wall, too?” Kuck asked calmly.

The four masked men didn’t say a word.

Suddenly, all at once, they rushed forward, waving their iron bars—they seemed rough and fierce, the kind who had done this sort of thing plenty before.

Kuck’s brows furrowed slightly, but he showed no fear at all.

His eyes darted to the pole that San Er had just put aside against the wall, and he nudged it lightly with his foot.

He smoothly grabbed the end of the pole as it bounced toward him—as soon as it settled in his hand, Kuck felt a strange distraction sweep over him—a feeling he knew all too well.

It felt like he’d assumed this stance countless times before.

But he had no time to think further—he was facing the incoming assault of the four masked men.

The pole spun in Kuck’s hands, a surge of wild, ferocious energy welled up from within him, as if his body was driven by some primal instinct.

And then he moved!

This ordinary, even somewhat blackened and moldy pole, in an instant, turned into a hummingbird darting into the sky, smashing directly into a masked man’s shoulder.

With a single blow, the man was knocked back two or three meters!

A wail of pain burst out.

The man’s shoulder, shattered almost entirely by the terrifying impact, crumpled—he hadn’t even finished screaming before the agony had him fainting dead away.

The other three, seeing this, were only incited further into violence.

All three iron bars crashed down together at Kuck’s head!

It wasn’t some fancy technique, but clearly the vicious, desperate style of seasoned thugs!

Kuck let out a soft grunt, his pole darting like a spirit snake; with incredible speed, he jabbed three times, as if with precise calculation, landing each jab at the exact same spot on each masked man’s wrist, knocking all three iron bars from their hands!

The three howled at once, clutching their wrists in agony, as if they’d taken a blow from a boulder!

Their three iron bars clattered to the ground.

Kuck deftly hooked them with his pole, then, as if the pole itself were magnetic, the three iron bars spun around the pole, tangled tightly together!

Kuck suddenly swept the iron bars downward, and with a bang, all three bars stuck upright in the old stone alley bricks—like three sticks of incense, right before the masked men’s eyes.

The three were terrified out of their wits, with no more thought of being fierce.

They scrambled and crawled to lift their already-unconscious companion and bolted into the alley.

Kuck thought to give chase, but just then a splitting headache struck him, his skull throbbing as if it would burst.

He couldn’t think of chasing at all.

He used the pole to steady himself, hand pressed to his brow, unmoving.

“Ma…Mark, are—are you okay?”

Only after a long while did San Er finally find her voice, pale with fright as she reached out anxiously to pat Mark’s shoulder.

He suddenly opened his eyes and shook his head…

The pain had already eased somewhat.

He felt something wanted to surge up from deep within his mind, but it was as if a huge net was there, trapping and blocking out these important memories.

“Who…were those people?” San Er asked in terror.

Kuck frowned, then walked over to the white oil drum the four masked thugs had left behind in their hurry.

He opened it and sniffed, then looked up at San Er and asked, “Have you crossed anyone lately?

This is gasoline—they probably wanted to set a fire.”

“Set a fire!” San Er nearly stumbled in fear.

But just then, the neighbor’s lights flickered on.

Kuck looked over and quickly said, “Let’s talk inside!”

He swiftly picked up the bucket of gasoline, hooked the water bucket with the pole, and led San Er without hesitation through the back door, bolting it behind them.

Kuck remained just as calm as ever.

But San Er was at a complete loss.

“Think carefully—who could it be?” Kuck asked again.

San Er steadied herself, instinctively recalling the near-fight she’d almost had at the daycare…

but on reflection, she dismissed it.

For one, there wasn’t enough time.

It was impossible for someone to arrange all this and scrawl insults on her wall so quickly after she left the daycare.

And setting a fire over a quarrel seemed…

far-fetched.

“I don’t know,” San Er said helplessly, shaking her head.

Kuck considered for a moment, then said directly, “Make sure all your doors are locked.

I’m going out to take a look around…

Also, I won’t leave tomorrow.”

San Er was startled, about to speak when she saw Mr.

Markem grab the pole and head out the door—his departing silhouette gave her a kind of safety she’d never known before.

…

…

Setting down the telescope, Nero’s pupils flashed with a ghostly blue light, but she herself didn’t notice, only narrowing her eyes and smiling faintly.

“Aha, couldn’t resist stepping in after all.”

Miss Tyrant laughed quietly, making plans in her heart once more.

“You’d really better thank me, Kuck…

I’m the one who gave you a fateful encounter in a foreign land.”

With no one left in the tofu shop who might sense her presence, she slipped inside with ease.