"Hey, you in front."
A rough voice with a heavy northern accent echoed down the sparsely populated street.
The person being called out to remained unfazed.
Rong Zhi's backpack hung loosely over his shoulder, seemingly about to slip off, yet it stubbornly stayed in place as he walked.
Bai Su was quite curious, asking softly, "Did you nail your bag to your shoulder?"
"I'm not that idle."
Bai Su let out an "oh" and didn't dwell on it further.
But their obvious indifference and disregard quickly sparked the anger of the people behind them.
The five men stormed up to them with grim expressions; the last one's steps were slower, and the sound of high heels clicked on the empty street.
"Little brother~"
Three words, each with a different intonation, ambiguous like a poisonous snake whispering in one's ear, sticky and disgusting.
