It didn’t take long for Jiang Sheng’s family to sign a retainer agreement with Lanjin, which meant the lawyers could finally go meet with him.
This was Lou Mingxu’s first trip to a detention center, and he was so excited he might as well have been injected with adrenaline. He dug out the patterned tie he liked best, knotted it carefully, then paused in front of the law firm’s glass door to fix his hair.
Fresh out of university and still enjoying the full benefits of youth, Lou Mingxu had an absurd amount of hair. The wind had already blown his curly wolf cut into a mess, so he worked some styling wax through it, raking it evenly through the strands until everything was firmly in place.
A gust carried the scent of his hair product into the office.
Zhou Yan sniffed the air and said, “You’re such a peacock.”
Lou Mingxu took that as a compliment.
“I think we need a full-length mirror here. I’m always having to check my reflection in the glass outside. It looks so pathetic.”
“This isn’t a clothing store.”
Zhou Yan ignored his request completely. He finished off the rest of the Coke on the desk in one go, got to his feet, and said, “Let’s go. I’ll take you.”
“Oh? Seriously?!” Lou Mingxu’s eyebrows shot up in delighted surprise.
He’d assumed Zhou Yan was just as broke as he was and couldn’t afford a car, meaning they’d have to take a taxi.
“I’ve never seen you drive before.”
“Because I’m a low-key person.”
“Aren’t you going to change?”
Lou Mingxu looked at Zhou Yan’s usual outfit—a T-shirt and jeans so ordinary he could have passed for an off-duty police officer—and suddenly had second thoughts.
Going to the detention center dressed like this would make Zhou Yan look completely lacking in ceremony. Though, to be fair, Zhou Yan did look pretty good in a white T-shirt.
“This is my work uniform,” Zhou Yan said.
“Okay.”
Lou Mingxu imagined what kind of car Zhou Yan must drive.
It would have sleek lines and a handsome body. Probably silver-gray or pure white. Maybe an Audi. Something in the three-hundred-thousand-yuan range seemed appropriate for someone like Zhou Yan—not flashy, but not so shabby that it looked as though he didn’t make any money.
Lou Mingxu followed cheerfully behind him for a while.
Then—
Beep beep.
A two-wheeled electric scooter parked beside the alley chirped.
Lou Mingxu stopped dead.
His soul practically left his body.
Not an Audi.
A Yadea.
The scooter looked ancient. He couldn’t tell whether Zhou Yan had been riding it for years or had bought it secondhand. Paint had been scraped off in several places, and the storage box that should have been mounted at the back was nowhere to be seen.
All in all, it was a battered heap of metal that looked as though one good sit would finish it off for good.
Lou Mingxu stared in disbelief.
“This is your transportation?”
“Yep.”
Zhou Yan picked up the cartoon helmet hanging from the handlebars and put it on. Then, remembering something, he turned to Lou Mingxu.
“Go borrow a helmet from the owner of the chicken-pot place. If the traffic police catch you without one, it’s a fifty-yuan fine.”
Lou Mingxu stood there hesitating, deeply reluctant.
He had carefully done his hair. He’d put actual effort into his clothes. He’d used that much styling product.
And now he was supposed to put on a helmet and ruin the whole thing?
Besides, who wore a suit and tie with a helmet? He’d look ridiculous.
“…I don’t want to wear one. I’ve seen the owner’s helmet. It’s ugly, and it’s practically falling apart.”
“You’re so damn fussy. Then wear mine.”
Zhou Yan took off the helmet he was wearing and handed it to him.
Zhou Yan’s helmet wasn’t ugly, but Lou Mingxu still shook his head.
“It’s kind of childish. It doesn’t go with my clothes at all. But it’s fine. My reflexes are fast. If we see a traffic cop, I’ll just hop off and walk. There’s no way they’ll catch me.”
Zhou Yan gave a quiet snort.
“Why do you have so many requirements?”
Taking his chances, Lou Mingxu climbed onto the back of the scooter. With nowhere else to put them, he rested his hands lightly on Zhou Yan’s shoulders.
“I’ll accept the fifty-yuan fine. Just consider it the price of a taxi.”
“Do you even have money in your pocket to be accepting fines?”
Lou Mingxu patted the pocket containing his phone.
“You pay it for me first. I’ll pay you back when I get my salary next month.”
Zhou Yan started counting off the debts on his fingers, coldly listing them one by one.
“The coffee you spilled last time was a hundred and one fifty, including the coffee and dry-cleaning. Then thirty for the mug you broke. Twenty-five for the dental biscuits and dried beef you ate that belonged to Xiao Mi. Two hundred and sixty for the snacks I had on my desk…”
“Okay, okay, I know!”
Lou Mingxu hurriedly cut him off.
“I’ll pay you back next month. Are you secretly a calculator? How are you this good at keeping accounts?”
Zhou Yan looked at him suspiciously.
“Is your salary even enough to pay all that back?”
Lou Mingxu suspected it probably wasn’t.
But he still had his pride.
“If it’s not enough, I’ll sell you all my free time outside work. I’ll be your laborer. I can wash pots and dishes, scrub clothes, rub your back, run errands—whatever you want. Will that do?”
“Go back and sign an agreement with me.”
This little area around Litangkou rarely saw traffic police on patrol. Most people riding electric scooters didn’t wear helmets, and they drove fast.
Zhou Yan, meanwhile, had never carried a passenger on an electric scooter before. He was visibly inexperienced, wobbling along at roughly fifteen kilometers an hour.
“At this speed, we’ll get there after dark.”
Worried that Zhou Yan, with his helmet on, couldn’t hear him, Lou Mingxu leaned forward a little.
“Why don’t I drive? You can sit in the back.”
Zhou Yan ignored him.
The scooter picked up speed slightly, but every time they reached a turn, the handlebars still shook.
Then, just as they were about to hit a concrete parking barrier, both of them panicked.
Lou Mingxu’s right hand shot past Zhou Yan’s arm and grabbed his fist, steering the handlebars in the other direction.
They narrowly missed the concrete block.
Lou Mingxu thought Zhou Yan’s driving skills were terrible.
Zhou Yan, meanwhile, blamed him for being too heavy, which was apparently why the handlebars were so hard to control.
“I don’t have this problem when I ride alone.”
Lou Mingxu thought that sounded suspiciously like an excuse.
“You’re just bad at this.”
The two of them were so busy arguing that neither noticed what was ahead.
Then Lou Mingxu looked up.
Thirty meters away, a traffic officer was on duty.
Several people without helmets had already been pulled over, and the officer was writing tickets.
“Oh, shit!”
Lou Mingxu slapped Zhou Yan on the shoulder.
“Quick, quick, let me off! There’s a traffic cop ahead!”
The moment the officer’s gaze began sweeping in their direction, Zhou Yan slammed on the brakes and made a sharp U-turn.
The scooter leaned dangerously far to one side.
The handlebars slipped completely out of control.
Both of them screamed as the scooter tipped over.
“BANG!”
Zhou Yan went down with the scooter.
Lou Mingxu’s long legs saved him. He stepped clear at the last second, then immediately hauled Zhou Yan to his feet and checked him from head to toe.
“Are you hurt?”
Zhou Yan didn’t seem to have injured himself anywhere.
Unfortunately, they had landed in a puddle.
His side and one sleeve were filthy, leaving him in no condition to be seen in public.
Then he looked at Lou Mingxu.
Not a scratch.
Zhou Yan wiped at his clothes with a tissue, furious.
“This is entirely your fault. Add another hundred to the dry-cleaning bill.”
Lou Mingxu felt a little wronged.
How could this possibly be his fault?
Wasn’t the real problem that someone’s driving skills were terrible?
Still, he nodded.
“…Fine.”
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