C8 A Mother's Picture

"Don't move, and keep quiet. Hand over the cash and we'll be on our way, or it won't end well for you."

The yellow-haired kid swept a glance around before loudly declaring his purpose.

He wasn't actually wielding a knife, but in his mind, the supernatural vines that ensnared his target were far more menacing than any blade.

Xia Liang, having already attempted and failed to break free from the vines, remained calm. Hearing the kid's demand, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Just a robbery, huh? You had me worried for a second. Acting like you've never seen money before, using supernatural powers for such petty theft." His initial relief turned to disdain.

He was oblivious to the struggles of earning a living.

The yellow-haired kid swiftly found Xia Liang's wallet, rifled through it to discover a hefty stack of cash, zipped it up, and passed it to his shorter companion.

"Yep, just like Ermao said, a few thousand yuan in there."

The shorter man glanced down at the bound Xia Liang, clicking his tongue in mock admiration. "Everyone's using Alipay and WeChat these days, and here's this student, casually carrying so much cash. Pretty lavish, aren't we?"

Xia Liang, overhearing the comment, noted the youthful tone. On closer inspection, he realized the so-called "Boss" was not short but young.

This "Boss" looked to be just 15 or 16, a middle schooler who was even younger than himself. Xia Liang couldn't fathom why the twenty-something with yellow hair would refer to him as "Boss."

"Boss!"

Just then, two other young men, appearing to be in their twenties or thirties, arrived on the scene, drenched in sweat and gasping for air like overheated dogs. The heavier one collapsed onto the grass, resembling a beached pufferfish.

"All you do is surf the web and play on your phones. I tell you to exercise, but you don't listen. Now look at you, can't even keep up with a regular student," the middle schooler chided with a clear, sharp tone.

"Boss has spoken; we start running tomorrow."

"Yeah, running."

Second Hair and the fat guy quickly slapped their chests in assurance.

"Actually, let's skip running tomorrow. We'll do it the day after. Tonight, we drink and sing our hearts out!" The middle schooler hoisted Xia Liang's stuffed wallet as a sign of the night's festivities.

"Long live the boss! Long live the boss!"

The group of breathless young men erupted in cheers.

Xia Liang could only roll his eyes at the sight. Three men in their twenties fawning over a middle schooler barely fifteen or sixteen, calling him 'boss'—it was just too bizarre.

Wallet in hand, Xia Liang, still sprawled on the ground, played along without protest. The middle schooler, content with the situation, nodded and with a wave of his hand, released the vine's grip. He signaled his three minions to withdraw.

"Hold on!"

Xia Liang, prone on the ground, suddenly spoke up and then made an effort to rise.

"What's up, kid? You want your wallet back?"

The middle schooler stepped back, and without any visible action, the withered vines that lay motionless on the ground sprang back to life, turning green and rearing up like cobras before Xia Liang.

"Keep the cash, just return the wallet," Xia Liang said, his voice steady, not making a move.

"The wallet?"

The middle schooler yanked all the cash from the wallet and handed it off to one of his lackeys. Then he instructed another to use his phone to inspect the wallet, turning it over repeatedly.

"No need to check. The wallet's a cheap thing, nothing of value inside. It just has a photo of my mother, which means a lot to me. Please give it back."

Xia Liang, worried that the photo tucked inside the wallet might get damaged by their rough handling, spoke up urgently.

That photo was all he had left of a day at the amusement park, where his mother had taken him in place of 'that man', and they'd ended up taking a photo together in a booth. Xia Liang couldn't bear to lose it.

"This photo!"

The skinny guy rifled through the wallet and located the photo in the open compartment.

He had realized something was off from the start, but he hadn't considered it significant.

"Exactly."

Xia Liang eyed the serpentine vines before him, refraining from any sudden moves. Instead, he reached out slowly, signaling his desire to retrieve what was taken.

"This photo must mean a lot to you..."

The middle schooler mumbled to himself as he glanced at the photo tucked inside Xia Liang's wallet, then abruptly snapped it shut and shoved it into his pocket.

"In our line of work, we don't do returns. If you want your photo back, be here tomorrow, same time, with 10,000 yuan. Cash for the wallet, no funny business."

The kid sized up Xia Liang, who appeared unfazed by the theft, and laid out his terms.

"Fine."

Xia Liang watched as the student roughly pocketed his wallet. His fingers twitched, but he restrained himself and nodded in agreement to the demand.

"Hey, don't even think about calling the cops. If I spot them, I'll rip up this photo on the spot. What do you think they'll do to me for tearing up a picture?"

The student pointed at Xia Liang, his smile oozing smugness.

"Mhm."

Xia Liang was itching to wipe that grin off his face with a slap, but he considered the repercussions and begrudgingly nodded, his expression darkening.

A smart man doesn't suffer in silence. He might have lashed out at a teacher in a fit of rage, but he wouldn't make a move without a clear advantage.

"Let's hit the road!"

At the student's command, the vigilant vines wilted to the ground, and the group of four sauntered off.

"Dammit."

Xia Liang watched them go, cursing under his breath before limping toward the garden's exit.

"Ow, ow, ow, what the hell kind of vines are these? Do they have thorns?"

Once out of the garden, Xia Liang felt the searing pain in his wrist and calf, along with the sensation of something trickling down. It seemed the vines had left their mark.

"Tomorrow, I need to figure out how to get my mother's photo back."

Lost in thought and gritting his teeth, Xia Liang continued to trudge along the sidewalk, intent on returning to tend to his injuries.

"Xia Liang?"

He had barely taken a few steps when a voice, tinged with surprise, called out.

Xia Liang looked up to find a beautiful girl in a dress standing under a nearby streetlight, her eyes wide with astonishment as she stared at him.

It was Gu Wenying, the class commissary who had earlier caught his chair in the classroom, prompting the teacher to apologize to him.

Clutching a supermarket bag, she quickly tried to conceal it behind her back as Xia Liang's eyes met hers.

But it was too late; Xia Liang had already glimpsed the contents. The bag bulged with items that were clearly labeled for nighttime use, complete with protective wings.

The nature of the products was self-explanatory.

Encountering a familiar classmate at this moment, Xia Liang's instincts screamed trouble. He loathed the idea of anyone witnessing his vulnerability, whether it was emotional or physical.

Pity was something he detested with a passion.