To think that he had been alone for so many years.

As soon as these people got out of the car, they started swinging—some charged at Zhang Pa, some at Fatty... Was the fight starting just like that? Zhang Pa shouted for everyone to run, but he himself didn't leave; instead, he moved to meet the thugs coming at him.

The King of Cannons had come prepared; when he arrived, he didn't rush into the fray. He wanted to see just how many people Happiness Lane could muster, and then crush them with sheer force.

And crush them he did—Fatty's crew scattered like startled birds, fleeing at remarkable speed. In the blink of an eye, more than half had vanished.

But Tiger didn't run, Fatty didn't run, Turtle didn't run, nor did the Effeminate One. The Effeminate One had originally booked a room, planning to hook up with someone from the Conservatory of Music. But after a call from Fatty, he immediately delivered some sweet talk: “The dorm doesn’t have air conditioning, I booked you a room to rest, I’m leaving now.” In terms of strength, he might as well have taken a taxi back just to get beaten up.

Altogether, their group numbered eleven, each holding a baseball bat, forming a semicircle against the wall—six on the outside, five within. The six faced the enemy, minimizing their vulnerable area; the five inside could support at any moment.

This was the swarm-fighting tactic the Locust Brigade of Happiness Lane had mastered since childhood.

Zhang Pa fought solo on the outside. He fought with an uncommon ferocity; the more heated the fight, the clearer his mind became, and he could instantly adapt. Unless someone was faster than him, or brought a gun—an utterly unfair weapon—a handful of people would have to waste quite some time to bring him down. He was barehanded, but his punches were vicious—his finest blow was thrown straight at an incoming bat, and with a crack—it was impossible to tell if it was wood or bone breaking—either way, the bat snapped, and his fist was streaming with blood.

Brawls were common in Happiness Lane, even group fights, but a clash of this scale was rare. The melee split into two fronts: Fatty’s side held their own, fighting with wild excitement. On Zhang Pa’s side, there was only one word—fight. He was fighting as if he had nothing to lose.

Happiness Lane was a big place, full of all sorts—not just Fatty’s gang of seasoned punks, but also fresh-faced delinquents. The young ones were more calculating and wouldn't join a mess like this. But Happiness Lane also had students—many little troublemakers who, after a night out, would be heading home, only to discover an invasion in their own neighborhood...

These kids didn’t care about the details. In terms of craziness, they surpassed all expectations. Old hands on the street knew: better to offend an old ruffian than a wild kid. Take Happiness Lane for example—a three-time ex-con named Old Cannon used to swagger about, tough as nails. Back when the cinema hadn’t been torn down and was still a dark dance hall where ten yuan could buy you a dance and a grope, Old Cannon went in for some fun. On his way in, he accidentally bumped into a kid, cursed him out, and the kid instantly pulled a knife from his bag and stabbed him three times, killing him on the spot.

That was a bloody lesson no one forgot.

Now, five such wild kids joined the fight—no one knew what they were studying, but each had a kitchen knife in their schoolbag, and they pulled them out and hacked away without hesitation.

They knew Fatty—they’d been hanging out in internet cafes since they were ten, and Fatty always looked after them. They knew Zhang Pa too. When Zhang Pa first moved into Happiness Lane, he fought his way down the whole street alone—though the outcome was tragic, his fierce spirit was electrifying, and the little runts admired him for it.

Both Zhang Pa and Fatty had always looked out for these kids, even sticking up for them in fights. The kids were grateful, and loyal.

And now, someone dared to bully Fatty and Zhang Pa by sheer numbers?

To hell with niceties—if the mayor himself showed up, they’d finish the fight first. So the five wild kids plunged into the melee.

They were truly hacking away, with no thought for consequences, cutting their way through until they joined up with Zhang Pa.

Zhang Pa had seen them coming and felt a weary resignation. He didn’t like these kids—they were still wet behind the ears, their mouths were filth, always with a cigarette or a knife in hand—what kind of students were these?

He’d always wanted to set them straight, but these kids were all polite to his face—calling him “Brother Zhang,” agreeing with everything, never smoking in front of him. But as soon as he was gone, the swearing and smoking resumed.

That was one reason Zhang Pa was well-liked in Happiness Lane—especially by the kids’ parents, who were deeply grateful to him.

But now, with these wild kids swinging kitchen knives at people? Zhang Pa, in the thick of it, glanced at the crowd gathering to watch from a distance and sighed deeply. Tomorrow would be a day of reckoning.

The leader of the kids was skinny, nearly 1.7 meters tall, with a head of silver hair—a look copied from Japanese cartoons, claiming to be incredibly cool. He rushed to Zhang Pa, handed him a knife with his left hand, and said, “Here, Brother, take a knife.”

What the—now he was supposed to dual-wield? Zhang Pa was floored, but this was not the time for idle thoughts. He took the knife and shouted, “Everyone, get behind me!”

None of the five listened—instead, they waved their knives around in front. Zhang Pa was both exasperated and impressed—these kids were the future of Happiness Lane.

Thank goodness for the police. With a brawl of this scale, someone had called them early on. The authorities took it seriously—four officers showed up late at night.

But before the cops arrived, the twenty or so who’d run off at first came back, regrouped with weapons, and charged into the fray, stirring up another storm of blood.

At last, police arrived, siren blaring...

You had to show respect to the police—it was a mark of respect for the uniform. Fatty shouted for everyone to run, leading the charge out, and everyone scattered. The five wild kids ran even faster—one moment they were hacking away, the next, gone without a trace.

Zhang Pa ran too, and within seconds, only King of Cannons’ people were left on the street.

They had to run as well, but with so many of them and more wounded, their escape was slower. Nearly everyone on Fatty’s side was injured, but only one was seriously hurt, and he was carried off. King of Cannons’ crew fared worse—the wild kids’ knife charge had been brutal, leaving pools of blood everywhere.

The police questioned King of Cannons, who brushed them off, and the officers left.

It wasn’t that the police were shirking their duty—it was just that with a gang like the ones in Happiness Lane, this was the only way. The street had no lamps, and unless there were photos for evidence, even if you found the culprits, they’d never admit to fighting, no matter how battered they were.

Why waste time with a bunch of hard cases? Better to let them battle it out among themselves—as long as no innocents got hurt, let them fight as they pleased.

When the police left, King of Cannons surveyed his wounded troops in fury—were they all idiots? Outnumbering the enemy several times over, and yet in this sorry state?

He held back his urge to curse, tossed out an envelope with two stacks of cash, and told his men to get their injuries treated and to eat.

Fighting cost money—and not just for King of Cannons. Zhang Pa spent plenty too. Half an hour later, everyone who’d fought gathered at Big Tiger’s Barbecue.

When it came time to order, Big Tiger said, “Can you guys go somewhere else? Stop messing up my place.”

Fatty said, “Don’t be like that—we’re giving you business.”

Big Tiger replied, “Then you open a place, and I’ll give you business.”

Fatty thought for a moment, then asked Zhang Pa, “How about I open a barbecue joint?”

Zhang Pa was tending his wounds, downed a glass of cheap liquor in one go, and asked, “You’re not hurt?”

Fatty sneered, “With your skills? Please.”

Turtle grumbled, “That bastard actually used a pot lid as a shield, with a wall on the other side—how could he get hurt?”

The five wild kids were excited. One said to Zhang Pa, “Brother Zhang, we didn’t embarrass you, did we?”

Zhang Pa snapped, “Didn’t embarrass me? Damn it—just wait for tomorrow, you’d better pray you don’t run into me.”

The silver-haired kid put on a pitiful face. “Come on, Brother Zhang, we were helping you.”

“Get lost—you help me in a fight, your mom nags me for two days. How do I settle that score?”

The silver-haired kid grinned. “I’ve got an idea: I’ll run away from home.”

“I’ll kill you first.” Zhang Pa recalled the main thing and asked Fatty, “How much did tonight cost?”

Fatty understood at once, smiling as he tossed over an envelope. “Dinner wasn’t on you tonight.”

Zhang Pa pocketed the envelope and told Big Tiger, “Keep it under three hundred.”

Big Tiger replied, “Should I smack you with the bill?”

Fatty said, “You’re too cheap. There are about forty of us—we’ll spend at least five hundred.” He turned to Big Tiger. “Five hundred, keep it under five.”

Big Tiger agreed, then added, “Enough, I’ll just bring you five hundred’s worth of booze—take your time drinking.”

“Good idea,” said Zhang Pa, standing up to announce, “There’s plenty of booze!”

A chorus of scoundrels cheered.

Zhang Pa raised his voice again. “But only booze!”

“Damn!” Many shot him the finger.

“And another thing,” Zhang Pa bellowed, “I have a favor to ask.”

“Say it—want us to deal with those bastards?” The crowd was eager.

Zhang Pa said, “Do me a favor and stop helping me in fights. I’m not afraid of getting beaten, but I’m afraid of spending money—you guys eat too much.”

The crowd gave him the finger again.

As he expected, the next morning, Fatty’s mom came by for a word, then three kids’ parents showed up, then the Effeminate One’s mother too—all telling him not to fight, hoping he’d set an example.

Then Sun Yi came upstairs, saying, “You helped me, and I thank you, but you can’t keep causing trouble. What if someone else gets dragged in? If you keep this up, move out.”

Even the neighborhood committee auntie was alarmed. At noon, Grandma Yu brought a lunchbox of dumplings and knocked at his door.

There were bad people in Happiness Lane, but even more good people. The world always has more good than bad. Grandma Yu was the best of the good—even Fatty’s gang of thugs were respectful and obedient around her.

Before the old lady could come in, Zhang Pa took the lunchbox, set it on the table, and helped her inside. “I’ll come to your place for lessons, okay?”

Grandma Yu smiled. “You’re always so impulsive.” Then she said, “These are fresh from the pot—eat them while they’re hot. I’m off now.”

Zhang Pa wanted to walk her out, but she wouldn’t let him, and slowly went downstairs by herself.

So he sat down to eat dumplings, pondering the lectures from Fatty’s mom and the Effeminate One’s mom—he had to hurry up and finish that script, so the two mothers could set their minds at ease.

As he was eating, Tiger came in, sighing before he even spoke. “Brother Gang wants you to apologize to King of Cannons.”

“What does that mean?” Zhang Pa asked.