Chapter 101: An Ill-Fated Bond with Television Dramas

“Qiong! Dinner’s ready!” Aoki Tsukasa shouted up the stairs, untied his apron, washed his hands, and sat down at the table.

Qiong came slowly downstairs, her silver hair a little tousled and her whole demeanor faintly listless. She said nothing as she pulled out a chair and sat.

As soon as school let out, Aoki Tsukasa had fed the three puppies, Natto, Blackie, and White-Tail, then rushed straight to the seafood market to buy the freshest fish he could find and made sweet-and-sour fish. Between cleaning the fish and cooking, he had worn himself out.

“Go wash your hands!” he said, lifting his chopsticks as if to tap her on the head.

Qiong dodged away, annoyed. “Such a hassle,” she muttered.

Only then did she reluctantly go to the sink, rinse her hands, wipe the water off on her pajamas at random, and sit back down at the table.

Seeing how much more distant she seemed than before, Aoki Tsukasa sighed and smiled anyway. “How was your day? Qiong? Was the lunch box I made this noon good?”

With a blank expression, Qiong picked up a piece of sweet-and-sour fish, brought it to her lips, took a bite, and answered carelessly, “So-so.”

Aoki Tsukasa blinked and reminded her, “The dishes you used at noon are still in your room, right? Bring them out later and I’ll wash them together. Put your change of clothes in the washing machine. I’ll do the laundry when I get home tonight.”

“Mm.”

Qiong gave a small hum and said nothing else.

Watching her like that, Aoki Tsukasa pressed his lips together. In the end, he could only lift his chopsticks in resignation and continue eating while trying his best to find something to talk about.

“I heard there’s this TV drama people have been talking about lately, um, Gangland Tempest or something. Supposedly it’s pretty good. Have you watched it?”

Aoki Tsukasa’s near-total lack of hobbies left him with almost nothing to talk about. After racking his brain, the only thing he could come up with was the drama that Maeda Tora kept babbling about.

“The one about punks? Boring.”

As soon as she finished speaking, as if the subject had irritated her, her fingers suddenly twitched uncontrollably a few times. She put down her chopsticks with a snap and said flatly, “I’m done.”

Seeing that she had eaten only a little more than half a bowl of rice, Aoki Tsukasa frowned. “Eat a bit more. If you don’t eat enough, you won’t feel well.”

Qiong didn’t answer. Her small feet tapped against the floor, making a soft pattering sound as she went straight back upstairs.

Aoki Tsukasa looked at the meal he had worked two hours to make, took a deep breath, and silently finished his own food. Then he took a chocolate bar from the refrigerator and went upstairs.

Knock, knock. He rapped on the door.

There was no reply, so he pushed it open himself. Qiong was curled up under the blanket, absorbed in an anime playing on her computer.

He set the chocolate bar on the bedside table, took the bowl and chopsticks from her room where she had left them after lunch, and picked up the snack bag from the floor as well. Seeing that Qiong seemed completely engrossed in the anime and had no intention of looking at him even once, he turned and left without a word.

Only after Aoki Tsukasa closed the door behind him did Qiong take her eyes off the computer. She stared blankly at the chocolate bar on the bedside table.

“If I keep doing this...” she murmured to herself, “Tsukasa will give up on me on his own.”

“And then I won’t be able to keep relying on him like this. Whether he wants to fight people or become a punk, it won’t have anything to do with me anymore.”

Qiong picked up the chocolate bar, tore open the wrapper, took out one stick, and bit it into pieces. Her expression dimmed.

“Only...” She let out a faint, lonely sigh, turned over, no longer wanting to look at the cheerful main characters on the computer, and hugged her little black rabbit plush. “I was so sure I’d made up my mind, and yet... my heart still hurts so much.”

“Qiong, I’m going to work. Remember to run a bath first in a little while! And eat fewer chocolate bars. If you get hungry, text me and I’ll bring back a late-night snack.”

Aoki Tsukasa’s shout from downstairs made her brows knit slightly, and her expression grew even more melancholy.

When the door closed, Qiong sat up and leaned by the window, watching Aoki Tsukasa in the tracksuit he had once bought with her. He jogged out from the front of the house and gradually disappeared into the distance. Her gaze was unbearably complicated.

Lying back down on the bed, Qiong reached under her pillow and found the tiny photo sticker she treasured. Looking at the two of them in the picture, especially at how she had seemed to dislike it while actually blushing and secretly leaning closer, she stayed silent for a long time, unable to tear her eyes away.

-----

The boxing club was unusually crowded today. Aoki Tsukasa fought his way through the mass of people, not understanding why all these guys were packed in here instead of training. When he entered the locker room, he saw Matsuyama Iwao on the phone inside.

Matsuyama Iwao spotted Aoki Tsukasa, waved at him, and after a few words ended the call. Looking at the bruises still visible on Aoki Tsukasa’s face, he huffed, “You little brat, can’t you save me some worry?”

Aoki Tsukasa grinned foolishly, trying to skate by. He opened his assigned locker and was just about to put his jacket away when Matsuyama Iwao suddenly slapped a hand onto his shoulder.

Aoki Tsukasa, already a little injured, winced in pain. “What is it?”

“Put on your shorts today. Get ready yourself and warm up in the locker room. You’re going out for a practice match in a bit.” Matsuyama Iwao’s tone was absolute.

He felt that if Aoki Tsukasa kept fooling around like this, he would eventually be finished. He had only been training for a few days, and already he had gotten into two fights. What kind of nonsense was that? Today, he had to make Aoki Tsukasa understand just how far he was from a professional fighter, and that he needed to settle down and train properly instead of spending every day brawling with delinquent students outside.

Aoki Tsukasa arched a brow. “That sudden? You want me to fight as soon as I get here?”

“You can sit here and get your head straight for now. His ride won’t be here for another ten minutes or so, and even after he arrives he’ll still need to warm up.” Matsuyama Iwao let go of Aoki Tsukasa’s shoulder and said sternly, “Your opponent is strong. Be ready today. See all those people outside? Whether you do well or badly, they’ll be able to tell at a glance. If you don’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of everyone, then take this seriously and get your head in the game.”

Aoki Tsukasa smiled lightly, as calm as a breeze. “I know. Don’t worry.”

In the dream training room, Aoki Tsukasa had already stood on a big stage. Even if the third floor of this club was packed to the brim, it would only amount to a hundred people or so at most. Compared with the thousands of spectators in the dream training room, this could only be called a small scene.

Seeing how unusually composed he seemed, Matsuyama Iwao felt a touch of admiration. This kid had nerves of steel! If he didn’t go around causing trouble and picking fights outside, there really wasn’t much to criticize.

Still, after today, once he saw the gap between himself and a true expert, he ought to understand what he should be doing.

To Matsuyama Iwao, the reason Aoki Tsukasa still had the energy to fight people every day was simply that the time he had once gotten lucky and lasted a minute under Dragon’s hands had given him the wrong impression. This time, he had brought someone in specifically so Aoki Tsukasa could see just how much he still lacked.

He needed to recognize the gap and have that brat’s arrogance beaten down, or else the boy would keep being praised every day and really start thinking he was some kind of genius.

Watching Aoki Tsukasa take off his jacket, Matsuyama Iwao frowned slightly when he saw the bruises and swelling on the strong arms under the tight undershirt, but he said nothing.

After all, he never expected Aoki Tsukasa to win.

What he wanted was simply for Aoki Tsukasa to hurt properly this time and learn his lesson.

“All right, then get yourself ready.”

Matsuyama Iwao left the locker room.

The club was huge; on the third floor alone there were two entire locker rooms. One was for ordinary customers, while the other was reserved specifically for coaches, sparring partners, and fighters.

And in the empty locker room where Aoki Tsukasa stood, he was the only one warming up on his own. The flat-screen TV mounted on the wall was still playing a show.

“Ora ora! Delinquent Tiger! Ora ora! A body of iron and pride!”

Suddenly, fierce heavy metal blared from the television. Aoki Tsukasa looked up helplessly, and sure enough, that red-haired punk Tiger appeared on screen again.

The rock opening theme felt like a brutal assault on his ears. He couldn’t find the remote no matter how he searched, and outside the locker room was a crowd so dense and noisy it resembled a nightclub dance floor. In the end, he could only sigh and endure until the opening song finished.

At the start of the drama, Tiger, with his red hair whipping in the wind, rode a motorcycle at full speed. The wind lashed at his hair, yet not a single strand came loose from his slicked-back style. Meanwhile, a voice-over recapped the previous events.

“Without hesitation, Tiger charged straight toward the enemy’s headquarters, where the woman he loved was being held. He knew that even if this was a one-way road to death, he could not turn back.”

“But there was already a net of death waiting there. This time, could Tiger still escape with his life?”

Listening to the narration, Aoki Tsukasa gave a powerless little laugh. “I’m not only guessing that he’ll get out. I’m guessing he’ll get his woman out too. I’m also guessing his enemies couldn’t kill him even if they fired a rocket launcher at him. Am I fated to this terrible drama? Is your ratings success held together by this kind of fate?”

He sighed and began his warm-up exercises in earnest.

Watching Tiger on the screen drive his bike straight into the headquarters of the underworld syndicate, start drifting the motorcycle, sweep-kicking people, and even lift the front wheel to smash into enemies, he somehow turned the machine into something like a guerrilla fighter’s bicycle trick. He used the motorcycle so thoroughly that his foes were left dumbfounded.

As he watched, Aoki Tsukasa gradually began to feel that—if he was willing to throw his brain away—it was actually pretty entertaining.

------------------

P.S. A request for recommendations... my bookmarks have also been dropping lately, sigh. I thought long and hard about what was wrong with Qiong’s emotional arc, and then it suddenly hit me: what was missing was buildup. You readers don’t know why Qiong suddenly became like this, so it just feels annoying. I’ll make it clear, and I’ll also revise the earlier chapters. You can keep an eye on the chapter changes; chapter 94 has already been updated.

Oh, right, starting today there will be three updates a day.

Tsk, I knew you’d like that line. For the first month after the book goes on sale, there will still be a guaranteed four updates a day. Nothing much to say there—if you ask why, the answer is because I love you all. Think of it as a little compensation for readers who got through the rough patches before. The third update will be at six in the evening. Love you all.