Lin Xiaofeng was humming a little tune that no one else could understand, idly swinging a small ladies' handbag he had just snatched from an unlucky pickpocket.
"Finder's keepers," he thought with a smirk. The thief had bolted, the owner had screamed and run off in panic—how was he supposed to return it? No wonder the landlord's dog had barked like crazy this morning. That wasn't bad luck; it was a sign he was about to strike it rich.
He hadn't even checked the loot yet. Judging by the logo, this was one of those fancy "donkey brand" bags—girls called it "LV," but everyone knew it was just an overpriced donkey. Why were people so obsessed with foreign labels?
Since the owner was long gone, whatever was inside was now his. As for the bag itself… he could give it to Qianqian. That vain little thing would definitely fall for it. If he played his cards right, he might finally trick her into coming back to his rented room. One big step closer to ending his sixteen-year drought.
"Sixteen years old and still a virgin," he grumbled to himself. "Half the guys in class have already set their little brothers free, while mine is still in the original packaging. If a genuine donkey-bag won't do the trick, I'll see how much cash is inside. Worst case, I bleed a little money and treat her to dinner."
Crouching by the roadside, Lin Xiaofeng finally opened the bag and started counting. Holy crap—how did a girl in her early twenties have this much cash? She couldn't be any kind of saint herself. Apart from the money, there was only a man's business card inside. No phone number, no ID, nothing useful from the girl. What a waste—if he'd gotten her contact, maybe something could've happened.
Disappointed, he examined the card instead. Some no-name "director." Definitely a small-time one—he'd never heard of the guy. That girl must have been "casted on the couch." What a pity. She'd been top-tier goods.
Lin Xiaofeng felt a pang of regret as he counted the bills. Missing out on a beauty like that stung. He used to only care about eating well and living comfortably, but lately his little brother had been full of fighting spirit.
Pay for it? That would be admitting defeat. He wasn't bad-looking; he still had pride. Besides, he didn't have spare cash to throw at hookers. Tuition was already paid through part-time jobs and scholarships. If he fed his urges, he'd starve.
His parents had split when he was little. He'd grown up with his grandmother, and after she passed a few years ago, he'd been on his own—studying and working at the same time. Survival came first; lust was a luxury.
If only he could get his hands on that ice-queen mentor of his. Earlier today in her office, when she'd slammed the desk in fury and dropped her book, she'd bent over to pick it up… and he'd caught a perfect view of those two snowy half-moons. Just thinking about them made his mouth dry.
Her figure was like a perfectly ripened peach. Who knew if anyone had plucked it yet? She was cold as frost in public—he couldn't imagine what she'd be like once someone melted that ice.
Lin Xiaofeng only snapped out of his fantasy when drool actually hit his shirt collar. His eyes were practically glowing.
Meanwhile, a sports car was tearing down the road like a crazed bull. It wasn't going that fast, and most pedestrians managed to jump aside.
For someone as quick on his feet as Lin Xiaofeng, dodging would have been child's play. He was the school's champion brawler—probably would've been expelled long ago for fighting and groping girls if his grades weren't off the charts. Even the teachers and students called him a "demon" behind his back. He could beat someone senseless and still come out looking like the victim. When caught red-handed touching a girl's butt, he somehow convinced everyone she had seduced him.
Yet his academic record was flawless—top of the entire medical school, first province-wide in the joint entrance exams. How could a delinquent score like that? That was why they called him a demon. At parent-teacher conferences, someone once joked he must have an IQ of 249. Lin Xiaofeng had just smirked—he wasn't joking.
Still lost in his daydreams, he didn't react until the out-of-control car jumped the curb.
Amid the screams and the roar of the engine, one last thought flashed through his mind: "Even if I'm a demon, I shouldn't die like this, right? That damn black dog wasn't announcing good fortune this morning—it was mourning. If I survive this, I'm turning that mutt into soup…"
Then everything went black.
A clamor of voices assaulted his ears. He wanted to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt like lead.
"Am I dead? Why is it so hard for a ghost to open his eyes?"
"That cheating black dog got off easy—I didn't even get the chance to stew it…"
Lin Xiaofeng was the vindictive type; the dog's barking still gnawed at him.
He tried to clench his fist—nothing. Couldn't even twitch.
Suddenly a woman's excite