## The Riddle of the Repair Shop
I found myself at Wang Hao's repair shop, as if drawn by some unseen force; I couldn't even explain why to myself. Perhaps it was that damned curiosity, wanting to see my "masterpiece" with my own eyes; or perhaps it was a subconscious fear that compelled me to confirm just how badly my enemy had been thwarted. In any case, I hid like a thieving vagrant behind a derelict bus stop across from the repair shop, watching from afar.
The repair shop was filled with the pungent smell of motor oil and metal, and the incessant clanging of hammers echoed through the air. Wang Hao's flashy red Sports Car, now like a dissected metal corpse, was suspended mid-air by a massive car lift, its four wheels dangling pathetically. The hood was wide open, revealing a mess of wires and parts inside, looking as pathetic as Wang Hao's twisted face after the race.
Wang Hao stood under the car, his designer casual wear completely out of place amidst the greasy, oil-stained surroundings. With his arms crossed, his face was so grim it looked like it could drip water, like a lion about to pounce. Opposite him stood a middle-aged man in a faded blue work uniform—the owner and head Technician of this shop. The Technician's forehead was covered in sweat, a greasy rag clutched in his hand, which he wrung incessantly, his eyes darting around, afraid to meet Wang Hao's gaze.
"Check again! Go over it inch by inch with a magnifying glass!" Wang Hao's voice was squeezed through his teeth, filled with suppressed rage. "I don't believe this multi-million-dollar car just fell apart on its own! Someone must have tampered with it!"
The Technician shuddered and quickly nodded and bowed. "Young Master Wang, we... we've already checked three times. Really, we've checked all the components. The brake lines, the steering tie rod, the engine mounting bolts... every place you suspected, we took it apart and looked."
"And the result?" Wang Hao took a step closer, his gaze scraping across the Technician's face like a knife.
The Technician swallowed hard, his voice even smaller. "The result... the result is that everything is normal. The bolts show no signs of being loosened, and the lines have no man-made cuts. These failures, from a technical standpoint, can only be attributed to... attributed to normal wear and tear under extreme conditions. For example, that steering tie rod, perhaps there was a pre-existing issue from road conditions, and combined with the high-intensity driving during the race, the metal fatigue reached its limit, so... so it snapped."
"Normal wear and tear?" Wang Hao acted as if he'd just heard the biggest joke in the world, suddenly bursting into a fit of maniacal laughter, filled with anger and mockery. "Metal fatigue? I've only had this car for half a year! You're telling me it's already suffering from metal fatigue? Do you take me for a three-year-old?"
"No, Young Master Wang, this... this kind of thing, though rare, can indeed happen. It's like a person, who seems perfectly fine one moment, and then suddenly..." The Technician seemed to want to make an analogy, but meeting Wang Hao's murderous glare, he swallowed the rest of his words.
Wang Hao paced irritably under the car, kicking a nearby tire with a dull thud. He needed an answer, an answer on which he could vent his rage. He couldn't accept losing so pathetically, so inexplicably. There had to be someone, some bastard hiding in the shadows, who had ruined his race, ruined his reputation.
"What about the hood? Why did it pop up on its own at the end of the race? Are you fucking telling me that's normal wear and tear too?" Wang Hao pointed at the hood that had been forced back down, almost roaring.
"That... that we checked. The spring in the latch broke. Maybe it was from using too much force when opening and closing it before, combined with the vibrations from the race..." The Technician's voice grew weaker, because even he found this explanation pale and weak.
The entire repair shop fell into a dead silence, with only the occasional distant clanging of hammers. Wang Hao's chest heaved violently as he stared at the wrecked car, his eyes filled with resentment and madness. He couldn't find any evidence, any proof that he had been framed. All the failures were so "coincidental," so "plausible," as if God himself had personally descended to play a vicious joke on him.
This feeling of powerlessness made him angrier than being publicly humiliated. It was like punching a sack of cotton; all his force disappeared without a trace.
Suddenly, Wang Hao stopped pacing. The fury on his face slowly faded, replaced by a bone-chilling calm. He slowly turned around, no longer looking at the car or the trembling Technician. His gaze swept across every corner of the repair shop, across the cold tools, across the gray sky outside the window, and finally, his gaze seemed to pierce through the walls, landing somewhere far away.
His lips moved silently, and then, a low, cold name, like a venomous snake, slithered from his mouth.
"Lin Fan..."
In that instant, hiding in the shadows of the bus stop, I felt the blood in my veins freeze. My heart skipped a beat, and a cold sweat broke out down my back. I subconsciously shrank back, wishing I could drill into a crack in the ground.
Wang Hao's gaze was as cold as the Siberian current. He slowly scanned his surroundings, as if his prey was nearby, watching him with a pair of eyes. That gaze was no longer just anger, but mixed with scrutiny, suspicion, and the cruelty of a hunter that had locked onto its prey.
He no longer roared or threw things; he just stood there silently, but a cold arc slowly formed at the corner of his mouth.
Although he had no evidence, he had already found his answer. An answer that satisfied himself.
I knew this war had just begun. And I was now firmly in his sights.
## The Convenience Store Disaster
The night in the convenience store always had a hypnotic rhythm. The fluorescent tubes hummed eternally, the low rumble of the freezer was like the breathing of a slumbering beast, and I, Lin Fan, was just an insignificant shepherd beside this beast. I was mechanically lining up rows of yogurt on the shelves, my mind still replaying the afternoon's drama. Wang Hao's face, shifting from fury to grimness, was more spectacular than special effects in a horror movie. The thrill of my successful prank was quickly washed away by a touch of unease. That guy was not someone to let things go. The trouble I had stirred up, I was afraid, had only just begun.
"Ding-dong—"
The electronic chime of the automatic door interrupted my thoughts. I looked up instinctively, my heart sinking. The ones who came in weren't customers; they were two fiends. The one in front had a buzz cut, and a Scorpion tattoo on his neck that seemed to come alive, glaring at me menacingly. He was built like a wall, his black T-shirt stretched tight across his biceps. The one following him was slightly thinner, but the viciousness in his eyes was even greater. The moment they entered, the warm lights of the store seemed to turn a few degrees colder.
Alarm bells rang in my head. With this kind of display, were they here to shop or to cause trouble? I forced myself to stay calm, putting on a professional smile. "Welcome. What can I get for you?"
The buzz-cut man ignored me completely. He walked straight to a shelf, picked up a bag of chips, weighed it in his hand, and then—"pop"—crushed it into pieces. Chip fragments and seasoning powder scattered on the floor like snowflakes.
"Oops, my hand slipped," he grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth, without a trace of apology in his tone.
My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach. This wasn't an accident. They were here for me.
"What do you want?" I asked in a low voice, clenching my fists.
"What do we want?" the other man sneered, walking to the beverage cooler and slapping his palm against the glass door with a loud "bang." "Brother Hao sent us to deliver a message."
Before he could finish, the buzz-cut man was already in action. Like a bull in a china shop, he swept an arm, and an entire row of instant noodles crashed to the floor, soup packets and noodle blocks rolling everywhere. The Shop Manager, hearing the commotion, poked his head out from the back room. Seeing the scene, his face turned pale, and his reading glasses nearly slid off his nose.
"Oh, dear sirs, dear heroes, let's talk this out, let's talk this out!" The Shop Manager scrambled out, his face plastered with a fawning and terrified smile. "Don't smash things, don't smash them! This is just a small business, we can't afford to pay for the damages!"
The buzz-cut man stepped on the scattered instant noodles with a crisp "crunch," tilted his head, and gestured toward me with his chin. "This has nothing to do with your employee. We're here for him."
With that, he turned to me, advancing step by step. The strong, mixed smell of smoke and sweat from him created a nauseating pressure. "Lin Fan, right? Brother Hao said you got lucky last time. This is a warning. Next time, it won't be as simple as smashing up a store."
I stared at him, my chest heaving. Anger surged through my veins like lava, but I knew very well that rushing at him now would be meaningless, except for getting a worse beating.
"You're breaking the law!" I said through gritted teeth.
"Breaking the law?" the other man laughed as if he'd heard the biggest joke in the world. He walked to the counter, and without looking, grabbed the barcode scanner and smashed it hard against the keyboard. The plastic casing instantly shattered. "In front of Brother Hao, what is the law?"
The two of them began to wreak havoc without restraint. Shelves were toppled, glass doors were kicked in, products were torn open and stomped underfoot. In just a few minutes, the entire convenience store was turned into a scene of utter devastation. The Shop Manager paced anxiously to the side, muttering "My shop, my shop," but didn't dare to step forward to stop them.
I watched all this happen, my nails digging deep into my palms. This wasn't my store, but this job was my only means of support right now. Wang Hao's move was more vicious than beating me up directly; he wanted to cut off my livelihood.
Finally, the two men seemed to have vented enough. The buzz-cut man walked up to me, poked my chest with a finger covered in chip crumbs, and said coldly, "Message delivered. Watch yourself."
With that, they swaggered out, leaving behind a scene of devastation and us, stunned like wooden chickens.
The automatic door slid shut, and the world fell silent in an instant, with only the freezer still humming stubbornly. The Shop Manager stood dazed in the center of the ruins, staring at his painstakingly managed little shop turned into a garbage dump, his lips trembling, his gaze slowly shifting from terror to anger.
Then, he whipped his head around, his cloudy eyes locking onto me.
"It's all you! It's all your fault!" he suddenly screamed like a madman, pointing at me. "Why didn't I read your fortune before I hired you! I hired a Jinx like you! The moment you arrived, my shop became like this!"
I was stunned. I never expected him to react this way. I thought he would offer comfort, or at least condemn the two Thugs with me.
"Shop Manager, this isn't my fault, it was them..."
"I don't care who they are!" he cut me off rudely, spittle nearly flying into my face. "All I know is that they were here for you! You're fired! Get out of here now! Immediately!"
He took two steps back as if I were the plague, pointing at the door, his hand trembling with agitation.
I looked at his face, twisted by fear and selfishness, and couldn't say a word. Anger, grievance, helplessness... countless emotions drowned me like a tidal wave. I silently took off the blue work uniform, threw it on the crushed instant noodles he had stepped on, and walked out of the convenience store.
Outside, the night wind carried a chill, blowing against my burning face. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the steps in front of the convenience store. Behind me was the job I had just lost and a scene of devastation; before me was the city's heavy flow of traffic, but not a single light was shining for me. I felt like trash abandoned by the whole world, even breathing felt like swallowing glass shards.
Just then, the phone in my pocket vibrated. The screen lit up in the darkness, two words pulsing on it—Su Qing.
It was her, my only light in this city. My finger hovered over the answer button, but I couldn't find the strength to press it. What would I tell her? That I was fired? That my enemy had come to my workplace and smashed it up? That I was now collapsed on the street like a useless piece of trash? I had disappointed her.
The phone rang stubbornly, again and again, as if urging, or as if questioning. I looked at the two familiar, warm words, my eyes grew hot, but in the end, I just let my hand fall limply. I let that ringtone echo, lonely and insistent, in the noisy city night.
## The Activation of Plan B
The late-night wind was like a blade dipped in ice, stinging my face. I dragged my leaden legs back to the Rented Apartment in the urban village. It was less of a home and more of a pigeonhole where I could temporarily shelter from the wind and rain. Small, dim, and filled with a persistent musty smell.
I threw myself heavily onto the bed, and the mattress let out a groan of protest. The lightbulb on the ceiling had a bad connection; it flickered, just like my life right now, ready to go out completely at any moment. The Shop Manager's face, twisted with anger; the arrogant faces of Wang Hao's Henchmen; the wrecked shelves and products on the floor—all of it replayed in my mind like a movie loop.
I had become a Jinx, a plague god who brought misfortune wherever he went. My job was gone, my reputation was ruined, and the entire design industry had closed its doors to me. I didn't even dare to think about tomorrow, or about next month's rent. My wallet, my poor belongings, and even the only photo Su Qing and I had together were all lost in that chaos. I couldn't even protect our most precious memory.
The phone screen lit up, then darkened again. It was Su Qing. Earlier, at the shop entrance, I had seen her name but didn't even have the courage to press the answer button. What face did I have to see her? What future could I offer her? A good-for-nothing who couldn't even support himself, a bringer of disaster who only brought her trouble. I even started to think that Wang Hao was right, maybe I didn't deserve to be by her side at all.
Just as I was wallowing in this self-loathing, a light, urgent knock came from the door.
"Who is it?" I yelled irritably. I didn't want anyone bothering my pity party.
The knocking paused for a moment, then started again, more persistent.
Annoyed, I climbed out of bed and yanked the door open, ready to chew out a salesperson or a utility bill collector. But the person standing outside was the one I least wanted to see, and most wanted to see.
Su Qing.
She was wearing a light-colored windbreaker, the night wind tousling her long hair. Her always clear, bright eyes were now filled with worry and heartache. She was holding a thermos, watching me quietly.
"You..." My throat felt like it was clogged, and I couldn't say a word.
"Why didn't you answer my call?" Her voice was soft, but it was like a needle, precisely piercing the hard shell of my pretense.
"I... my phone died," I lied, a lie even I didn't believe, my eyes darting away from hers. "It's so late, what are you doing here? You should go back. It's not safe here."
"I came to bring you some food." She shook the thermos in her hand, then, ignoring my protests, walked straight into my pigsty of a room. She placed the thermos on the only relatively clean table and looked around, her brow furrowing slightly, but she said nothing.
Her silence was more painful than any accusation.
"Su Qing," I took a deep breath and finally mustered the courage to say the words I had rehearsed countless times in my heart. "Let's break up."
She turned her head and looked at me quietly, without surprise or anger, just asking calmly, "Why?"
"Why?" I gave a self-deprecating laugh, feeling my eyes heat up. "Don't you get it? I'm a loser, a Jinx! I lost my job, I'm blacklisted by the entire industry, and I'm treated like a plague wherever I go. If you stay with me, you'll only be dragged down with me. Wang Hao won't let me go. Next time, he might... I can't let you take this risk with me anymore. You should find someone better, not a good-for-nothing like me with nothing to my name."
I made my words harsh, absolute. I hoped she would hate me and leave quickly.
After hearing me out, Su Qing slowly walked up to me, took my hand, which was cold with tension, and held it gently. Her hand was so warm, and that warmth seemed to spread through my entire body in an instant.
"Lin Fan, look at me," her voice carried an undeniable power.
I was forced to look up and meet her gaze. In those eyes, there wasn't a hint of disgust or retreat, only determination and a depth I couldn't quite read.
"Do you think what Wang Hao did today was aimed at you?" she suddenly asked.
I was stunned. "What else could it be?"
"No," she shook her head, a cold, sharp curve forming at her lips. "He was making a demonstration against me. He thinks that as long as he tramples you underfoot, as long as he leaves you with nothing, I'll go back to him. The more frantic and hysterical he gets, the more it proves he's afraid, so afraid he can only use these despicable methods to force me to submit."
My heart jolted. I had never thought of the problem from that angle. In my eyes, Wang Hao was invincible, a figure looking down from on high. But in Su Qing's description, he was nothing but a coward who blustered to hide his fear.
"Don't be impatient," Su Qing tightened her grip on my hand, her gaze terrifyingly calm, like a general devising a strategy. "The more frantic he is, the closer he is to defeat. You think he smashed up a convenience store today and that means he won? No, this is just the first step of him losing control."
I stared at her, my mind a complete blank. The Su Qing before me was like a completely different person from the gentle, kind girlfriend I usually knew.
She let go of my hand, walked to the creaky old wardrobe by the bed, and pulled open the bottom drawer. The drawer was stuffed with my old clothes and miscellaneous items, but she didn't mind, rummaging through it.
Soon, she pulled out a thin folder. On its cover, three bold words were written in black marker—Plan B.
She didn't take out the whole folder, just held it with two fingers, letting that one corner show, as if deliberately whetting my appetite. Then, she turned around, a mysterious and confident smile on her face, a smile that, in the dim light, was more brilliant than the starlight outside the window.
She looked at me and slowly spoke, her voice not loud, but it exploded in my ears like a clap of thunder.
"Ready to fight back?"