Chapter 25: “Pandemonium – P” Part 2

The men groaned and howled on the ground, spewing curses as they scrambled to their feet to pursue.

It all happened so fast that Fu Tingli barely had time to react.

The next second, someone grabbed her hand, cool fingers slipping between hers in a familiar, silky touch.

In that heart-pounding moment, she was yanked away, the woman’s clear voice ringing in her ear.

“Run!”

As the words fell, urgent footsteps pounded behind them, relentless in pursuit. Fu Tingli finally came to her senses and gripped the woman’s hand in return. They burst from the narrow alley onto a wide street teeming with crowds.

Unlike the alley’s secrecy, the avenue was alive with some kind of parade.

The throng had gathered, following colorful floats and steamy festival trains, singing and drumming with exuberant energy—a joyful, uplifting scene.

Fu Tingli clung tightly to the woman’s hand, weaving against the surging flow of oncoming people.

She turned her face to dodge a kid dressed as an alpaca. Catching her breath at last, she looked up to see a Buzz Lightyear balloon floating overhead.

She froze for a second, but the woman tugged her along.

With an arm around her shoulders, the woman nimbly slipped through a gap between three shambling zombies in costume, rubbing a streak of fake blood on herself in the process.

Hand in hand, they plunged into the packed street, fleeing in another direction amid the chaos.

“My car’s that way!”

The noise around them was deafening, forcing her to shout.

Sweat beaded in her palm, sticky and slick, making their grip precarious.

Those men might look scrawny, but if things got ugly, they might not win a real fight. Even if they did, someone would get hurt.

Most importantly.

In the midst of the frantic wind and clamor, Fu Tingli twisted back with effort and saw the woman holding her hand with one arm while still covering her face with the mask using the other.

Her long black hair whipped wildly, hiding her expression.

Fu Tingli spotted a scrape on the woman’s exposed forearm, blood seeping from it.

Dazed, she called out, “You’re hurt?”

When had that happened?

Had it been when she’d yanked Fu Tingli away, scraping against the rough alley wall? Or earlier, in the scuffle blocking that kick aimed at her?

The woman met her backward glance and tightened their clasped hands.

Amid the dizzying thrill of the foreign street, their fingers intertwined firmly. She pulled Fu Tingli even closer, as if afraid to lose her.

“It’s nothing. I don’t feel pain.”

With that, the woman actually laughed freely right then, amid the sounds of pursuit behind them, telling her,

“And I won’t let you feel it either.”

In that instant, Fu Tingli almost wanted to ask if that Buzz Lightyear balloon floating away was theirs.

At a time like this, she felt a pang of regret.

That balloon, lost to their flight, must have been the one the woman wanted to give her—if she wasn’t mistaken.

Night had fallen on the bustling streets, speakers blasting from stalls everywhere, spilling out melancholic love songs with swirling melodies and beats drifting into their ears.

They burst from the alley into the bright lights, then charged hand in hand through two crowded blocks to the tune of the familiar “California Dream.”

The gang of thugs behind them wouldn’t quit, doggedly chasing.

The two groups blended into the neon-lit pandemonium, like a pulse-pounding chase from a Hong Kong action flick.

Yet paired with the “California Dream” echoing through the streets, it felt like a romantic comedy, the leads clinging desperately to love amid the storm.

They finally reached the parking spot.

Fu Tingli barely had time to catch her breath before hopping into the passenger seat. Only after sitting did she realize and start to switch sides.

She glanced back and saw the pursuing shadows closing in—curly hair blown back, foreheads bared, faces twisted in savage effort, straight out of a classic American comedy.

The woman right behind her had her hair tousled too, but in Fu Tingli’s eyes, her swift moves played out in slow motion, stunningly beautiful.

The woman pressed her into the passenger seat, leaped from the ground into the driver’s, and reached over.

Fu Tingli tossed her the keys without hesitation—to this woman she’d known less than forty-eight hours, yet who already felt like a partner in a desperate getaway.

They were already in perfect sync.

Blood seeped from the scrape on the woman’s forearm, dripping onto Fu Tingli’s hand as the woman caught the keys. But the woman paid it no mind, calmly slotting them in and turning the ignition.

Before the footsteps closed in behind, the car roared to life, leaving the furious thugs choking in a cloud of white exhaust.

Fu Tingli could finally breathe easy, but the adrenaline lingered. She frowned at the bloody scrape on the woman’s arm.

The woman just rested a hand on the wheel and barreled through streets and alleys, driving wildly.

As if reading her mind, she gently patted the back of Fu Tingli’s head—a comforting gesture to ease her worry.

Brushing off her own injury with a smile, she said casually, “Let’s go pick up the others first.”

The situation was urgent, so Fu Tingli held her tongue. She just pursed her lips and relied on memory to pinpoint the direction Zhu Muzi and the others had fled.

“That way!”

She pointed down a street where a water truck was rumbling along.

“Perfect—it’ll clear the path for us!” the woman said, flooring the accelerator and swinging onto the road.

Before they reached the truck’s front, familiar figures rounded the corner, trailed by those persistent blond thugs.

Fu Tingli sighed in relief and waved frantically.

“Over here!”

As her words landed, the woman smoothly pulled up beside Zhu Muzi and the others, kicking up a cloud of dust with tires screeching sharply against the pavement.

Zhu Muzi unlocked the car first. She cast a quick glance at the blond thugs hot on their heels behind them, then carefully helped Nicole inside before squeezing back in herself.

Meanwhile, Amanda slammed one of the car doors shut with crisp efficiency. She planted both hands on the doorframe for leverage and delivered a sharp kick to the man closing in fast, before vaulting straight into the vehicle from outside.

Glancing back, she saw it was the very blond thug who had slapped her earlier. Her kick caught him square in the face. His head snapped back, and his grip loosened on the car’s rear bumper.

The woman in the driver’s seat floored the accelerator. The car shot forward like a streak of smoke onto the open road ahead. Amid a chorus of startled shouts, they barreled neatly past the swaying water truck.

Their pursuers weren’t so lucky. The blond thugs got drenched head to toe by the spraying water, all while roaring curses at the top of their lungs.

Zhu Muzi thrust her arm out the window, flipping them the middle finger. She burst into laughter at the sight of the drenched thugs swearing up a storm but falling hopelessly behind.

“Refreshing!”

The car whipped past the water truck, and they all got a liberal splashing too. Water plastered their hair to their scalps, but no one cared about the details. Pure exhilaration coursed through them.

Breathing still came in ragged gasps, the air in the cramped car thick with the lingering chaos of the chase.

The water mist hung fine and gauze-like in the air, while their car streaked through it like a lightning bolt.

It pierced straight ahead, scattering the mist in its wake.

The blood Fu Tingli had gotten on her from the zombie parade performers was diluted by the water, turning it into a translucent pink that trickled messily down her skin.

She swiped casually at the water on her face and joined Zhu Muzi’s laughter. She high-fived everyone in the back seat.

Yet even after that heart-pounding escape, her pulse refused to settle. Her eyes drifted to the woman in the driver’s seat.

Water streaked the driver’s face too, but the eyes peeking out above her mask sparkled with amusement.

Paired with the vivid face paint that hadn’t smeared and the streaks of blood from the parade zombies, it spread like crimson petals blooming across her cheek and down her neck.

Like a cluster of California lupine in full, fiery bloom.

It looked scorching and untamed. Even just the afterglow of this woman carried a bold, vivid intensity.

Fu Tingli couldn’t tear her gaze away.

Just then, the car swung onto a wider avenue. A gust of wind snatched the cloth mask from around the driver’s face, sending it fluttering away behind them like a ribbon in the breeze.

As if compelled by some unseen force, Fu Tingli’s eyes locked onto the drifting mask, like a living thread pulling her in.

Without thinking, she leaned out, bracing her lithe waist against the door handle. Zhu Muzi in the back seat understood instantly and reached out to steady her shoulder.

Before the flimsy cloth could vanish completely, Fu Tingli snatched it from the air.

“Got it!”

The smooth fabric slid across her palm, still warm with faint dampness and body heat. The thrill of the chase lingered in her veins.

Grinning like a kid, she waved the mask triumphantly, eyes crinkling in delight. The others in the back seat erupted in laughter and cheered her on, each slapping her palm in exuberant high-fives.

Fu Tingli lifted her chin, eager to see the driver’s reaction. But as she turned, a cap descended over her head—the very baseball cap she’d placed on the woman earlier.

Now it covered the upper half of her own face, splitting her vision in two. A bit dazed, she peered toward the driver’s seat.

Her view was halved. She could only see the lower half of the woman’s face, drawing her eyes inescapably to those perfectly shaped lips—not too full, not too thin.

In that perfect instant, it felt right to do something bold and irrevocable.

Fu Tingli thought, a pity this wasn’t a movie. Not a Hong Kong action flick, nor an American comedy.

“Nothing for a high-five?”

In her narrowed field of vision, the woman’s damp red lips parted slightly in a tone that was half-question, half-tease. There was a lazy amusement there, indifferent yet playful.

“That won’t do,” the woman added, her voice low and calm as ever.

” Won’t do what?” Fu Tingli still couldn’t look away.

This woman was utterly novel, living in a way unlike anyone Fu Tingli had ever known—fractured, illusory, yet intensely real.

Screech—

The tires shrieked against the wet pavement as the car braked hard on an unfamiliar street.

Zhu Muzi’s bewildered voice cut through from the back: “Huh? Why are we stopping?”

Then, “Oh, right. Those guys aren’t chasing us anymore.”

Someone else muttered something, but Fu Tingli barely registered it.

In the sliver of vision under her cap’s brim, the woman’s lower face drew closer and closer.

An overhead train thundered past. The baseball cap lifted slightly. Wind tugged at her hair, but Fu Tingli’s gaze narrowed, unyielding.

The world around them blurred into shadows. Only the woman’s eyes—warm, distant, still smoldering with unquenched fire—filled her vision, inching nearer and nearer.

Close enough to ignite her heart, setting it ablaze in a roaring inferno she’d never forget.

The cap was lifted away, but instead of returning to the woman’s head, it shielded their faces from the back seat—from the gasps, the whoops, the wide-eyed stares.

Warm fingers gently tilted Fu Tingli’s chin up. A thumb brushed her lips with just the right pressure—a seduction, or perhaps a wordless reproach.

Fu Tingli didn’t hesitate. She tilted her head back.

In that moment, pandemonium paused. The breathless chase became mere prelude. Her racing heart hadn’t yet stilled.

The clown kissed the little fox.

—Later, she would think this was truly their third kiss.