Rebirth: Fan Debiao rises from the Liaobei land

Fan Debiao led seven or eight security guards up the stairs to the third floor, where the corridor was already in chaos.

The waiters huddled on either side, their hands trembling as they held the trays. Guests peeked through the cracks in the private room door, eager for a spectacle. Manager Avi rushed over in high heels, her face as white as paper.

"Brother Biao! You've finally arrived!" Awei's voice trembled.

Fan Debiao didn't stop, asking as he walked, "What happened?"

"I don't know! Those people came in and demanded the most expensive private room. They ordered food and drinks, and while they were eating, they called Mr. Wu over. They started fighting after only a few words!"

"Didn't they mention me?" Fan Debiao asked.

Awei was stunned: "He mentioned it! Boss Wu said, 'Don't be arrogant, my brother Fan Debiao will be here soon,' and the leader said, 'Fan Debiao is nothing,' and then the beating got even worse!"

Fan Debiao's lips twitched.

That's how it was in his past life. He went in alone, trying to intimidate people by smashing beer bottles and using his claw attacks, but ended up being used as a human punching bag. He can't do that this time.

The door to room 308 was wide open, and you could see the table overturned inside, with plates and bowls shattered all over the floor. Wu Derong wasn't in the room—he was lying in the corridor.

Fan Debiao crouched down. Wu Derong's gold-rimmed glasses were shattered into eight pieces, the lenses embedded in his face, blood smearing half his face. His suit was torn, and his tie was trampled like a rag.

"De Biao..." Wu Derong opened one eye, the other swollen shut. "You...you've finally come..."

"Mr. Wu, how's your injury?" Fan Debiao asked.

"They won't die..." Wu Derong grabbed Fan Debiao's arm, "Go...go and take them down...don't let a single one escape..."

Fan Debiao stood up and looked into the private room.

Four men, all in their thirties. The leader, a man with a buzz cut and wearing a black leather jacket, was sitting on the sofa smoking. The other three were bald, had long hair, and had a scar on their face. All four were smiling, as if they weren't the ones who had just assaulted someone.

Fan Debiao didn't rush inside. He turned to the security guards and said, "Listen, when you go in, watch my hand signals. When I make a move, you make yours. Don't try to kill them, aim for the thickest parts."

"Understood!" Da Liu weighed the rubber stick in his hand.

Fan Debiao stepped into the house.

The crew-cut man saw him and chuckled, "Oh, another one coming to their death?"

Fan Debiao ignored him and first glanced around the room. There were quite a few beer bottles, some empty and some full. An ashtray was on the floor, and cigarette butts were scattered everywhere.

"Gentlemen," Fan Debiao began, "what's going on?"

The crew-cut man stubbed out his cigarette on the sofa armrest: "Who are you?"

"Fan Debiao, over here."

"Fan Debiao?" the crew-cut man chuckled. "Never heard of him. Who let their pants down and showed you like that?"

The three people next to him laughed along. The bald man laughed the loudest, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

Fan Debiao said, "What are you laughing at? Tell me, why did you hit someone?"

"Why?" The crew-cut man walked up to Fan Debiao. They were close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath. "Let me tell you, in Kaiyuan, I can beat up whoever I want. Who do you think you are?"

Fan Debiao didn't move: "So, you're here to establish your reputation?"

The crew-cut man grinned: "So what if I'm standing on a stick? You got a problem with that?"

Fan Debiao sneered, "If you pull back from the brink, I'll guarantee you'll turn back; if you remain obstinate, I'll make you suffer endlessly, and then I'll explain to you where you're headed."

The crew-cut man stared at Fan Debiao for three seconds, then suddenly burst into laughter. After laughing enough, he turned to the three men and said, "Did you hear that? This idiot made us pull back from the brink!"

The three of them laughed even harder. The one with the long hair was slapping his thigh with laughter.

After they finished laughing, Fan Debiao asked again, "Are we going to do it or not?"

The crew-cut man stopped laughing, his face darkening: "Fuck your mother."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Fan Debiao moved.

He pulled a rubber baton from his lower back with his right hand, grabbed a beer bottle from the table with his left hand, and without even aiming, swung it directly at the crew-cut head.

"Bang!"

The beer bottle exploded on the crew-cut man's head, spilling yellow and white liquid all over his face. The crew-cut man yelled "Ouch!" and backed away, clutching his head.

Fan Debiao roared, "Let's do it!"

The security guards, who had been holding back their anger, rushed in. Big Liu smacked the bald man on the leg with a stick, and the bald man fell to his knees with a thud. Old Wang grabbed the long-haired man from behind, and Little Zhao struck him three times in the stomach. The remaining guards surrounded the scarred man and beat him up.

The crew-cut man tried to fight back, but Fan Debiao kicked him in the stomach. The crew-cut man curled up like a shrimp, and Fan Debiao picked up half a broken bottle from the ground and held it against his neck: "Want to hit me again?"

The crew-cut man, panting heavily, blood seeping from between his fingers, cried out, "I'm not fighting anymore... I'm not fighting anymore..."

"Should we settle the bill or not?"

"Knot……"

"Will you lose money?"

"pay……"

"Aren't you going to apologize?"

"pay……"

Fan Debiao released his grip and stood up: "Stop."

The security guards stopped and stepped aside. The three men were all lying on the ground, groaning.

Fan Debiao tucked the rubber baton back into his waistband and said to the crew-cut man, "The bill is 1,800, medical expenses are 5,000. I apologize. We'll get it done now."

The crew-cut man got up, took out his wallet from his leather jacket, and counted the money with trembling hands. He counted out six thousand eight and handed it to Fan Debiao.

Fan Debiao handed the money to Awei outside the door: "Put it in the accounts."

"I apologize," Fan Debiao said.

The man with the crew cut walked to the door and bowed to Wu Derong in the corridor: "Boss Wu, I'm sorry."

Wu Derong wanted to speak, but his mouth opened and closed without making a sound.

"Speak louder!" Fan Debiao said.

"I'm sorry!" the crew-cut man shouted.

Fan Debiao waved his hand: "Get lost."

The four men helped each other as they walked out. Reaching the top of the stairs, the man with the crew cut turned and glanced at Fan Debiao, his eyes filled with hatred.

Fan Debiao ignored him.

The person left, and the corridor became quiet. The waiters began to clean up. Awei directed people to help Wu Derong up and take him downstairs.

Fan Debiao said to the security guards, "You all put in a lot of effort today, so each of you will get an extra 100 yuan bonus at the end of the month."

Big Liu grinned, "Brother Biao, that was awesome!"

"Fun my ass," Fan Debiao said. "Keep your spirits up these next few days; those guys might come back to settle scores later."

Just then, police sirens came from downstairs. The police had arrived.

Two policemen came up, one older and one younger. The older one, surnamed Chen, was in his fifties and knew Wu Derong well. The younger one, surnamed Wang, was newly assigned to the post.

"What happened?" Officer Chen asked.

Fan Debiao offered a cigarette: "Officer Chen, it's nothing serious. The guests were drunk and caused trouble, but it's been resolved."

Officer Chen didn't take the cigarette, but looked into the private room: "Resolved? How was it resolved?"

"I persuaded them to leave," Fan Debiao said. "We're in business; we value harmony above all else."

Officer Chen glanced at the broken bottle on the ground, then at the bloodstains on the wall, and said nothing.

Fan Debiao pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Officer Chen: "It's late at night, thank you both for making this trip. Here's a small token of my appreciation, buy yourself a pack of cigarettes."

Officer Chen squeezed the envelope, then put it in his pocket: "This is the last time."

"I understand, I understand."

The police left. Fan Debiao went downstairs to Wu Derong's office.

Wu Derong had been bandaged up; his head was wrapped in gauze, like he was wearing a white hat. He sat in the boss's chair, his face grim.

"De Biao, thanks to you today," Wu Derong said.

"Of course," Fan Debiao said, sitting opposite.

"Who are those people?"

"I don't know," Fan Debiao said, "but judging from the situation, it doesn't seem like ordinary troublemaking. Someone might be instigating it."

Wu Derong frowned: "Ordered? By whom?"

"I don't know," Fan Debiao said. "But Mr. Wu, who have you offended lately?"

Wu Derong thought for a moment and shook his head: "Doing business means offending a lot of people."

"We need to be careful," Fan Debiao said. "I reckon they'll come again."

Wu Derong stared at Fan Debiao for a while: "Debiao, you're different today than before."

"Why is it different?"

"You used to pretend, but today we're going to do it straight," Wu Derong said. "We're not even pretending anymore."

Fan Debiao laughed: "Who are you trying to fool? Are you just putting on an act to get beaten up?"

Wu Derong laughed, his laughter aggravating his wound, making him grimace: "Alright, from now on, you'll be in full charge of Victoria's security. Your salary will be raised to 1,800."

"Thank you, Mr. Wu."

It was already 11 p.m. when I came out of the office. Fan Debiao didn't live in Victoria; he rented a small bungalow not far away for eighty yuan a month.

The night wind in Kaiyuan was quite strong, feeling like tiny knives on the face. Fan Debiao pulled his jacket tighter and headed home.

There weren't many people on the street, just a few drunks vomiting by the roadside. The streetlights were dim, casting long shadows.

He walked and thought. Today's fight was the first shot fired in his rebirth. But just being good at fighting wasn't enough; he needed to make money and establish himself. He couldn't afford to suffer the same losses as in his past life.

Just then, he heard footsteps behind him. Fan Debiao turned around and saw Da Liu running towards him.

"Brother Biao! Wait a minute!"

Fan Debiao stopped: "What's wrong?"

Da Liu, panting, said, "Someone is looking for you."

"Who?"

"A girl," Da Liu said, "has been waiting for you at the entrance of Victoria for ages. When I told her you were home, she asked me to lead the way."

Fan Debiao looked behind Da Liu. There was a woman standing under the streetlight, wearing a red cotton-padded jacket and a scarf, but her face was not visible.

"Who is it?" Fan Debiao asked.

"I don't know, I won't say her name, I'll just say I'm looking for you." Da Liu lowered his voice, "Brother Biao, when did you meet this girl?"

Fan Debiao ignored him and walked towards the streetlights.

As I got closer, I could see her clearly. The girl was in her early twenties, with an oval face, big eyes, and a ponytail. Her red cotton-padded jacket was old, and the cuffs were worn white.

Fan Debiao felt the face looked familiar, but couldn't recall where he had seen it before.

"You were looking for me?" Fan Debiao asked.

The girl looked up at him, her eyes sparkling: "Are you Fan Debiao?"

"I am."