Chapter 21 Aunt Zhang

"Robbery! Somebody help, there's a robbery!"

As Yang Fan walked along, a startled scream erupted ahead. He saw a young man rushing toward him, brandishing a knife in one hand and clutching a handbag in the other.

Trailing after him was a middle-aged woman, shouting frantically as she gave chase.

"Get out of my way! Anyone who doesn't want to die, move aside!" The youth waved his knife menacingly at the pedestrians, shouting threats as he ran.

The crowd, terrified at the sight of the blade, scattered in all directions. Some were tempted to intervene, but at the sight of the knife, quickly abandoned any thought of helping. After all, people valued their own safety.

With no one willing to stop the thief, the middle-aged woman was on the verge of tears. The bag contained the money she needed to pay her workers. If it was stolen, she wouldn't know how to face them. If the workers caused trouble, the company would be placed under immense pressure.

"All of you, get out of my way if you don't want to be stabbed!" the youth shouted again, his face twisted into a savage expression as he charged directly at Yang Fan.

Yang Fan showed no trace of fear, walking calmly forward. He neither appeared inclined to meddle nor showed any intention of helping. Nor did he attempt to dodge; he simply continued on his path.

Seeing Yang Fan unmoved, the youth assumed he meant to stop him. He gripped the knife tighter and lunged at Yang Fan.

"Courting death," Yang Fan thought coldly, a sneer at the corner of his mouth. A mere mortal dared to attack him with a knife? Sheer foolishness.

The knife glinted coldly in the light as it sliced through the air with a faint whistle.

In a flash, Yang Fan struck, his hand chopping down on the youth’s wrist. The knife clattered to the ground instantly.

Before the youth could even scream, Yang Fan’s hand struck his neck with the force of a blade.

A wretched cry escaped the youth as he collapsed to the pavement, utterly incapacitated and left to writhe in pain.

The bystanders watched in astonishment as Yang Fan subdued the youth in a matter of seconds.

"My God, I couldn’t even see what he did. Next thing I knew, that guy was flat on the ground!"

"He must be trained. No one else could do that," someone observed.

"That thief sure was unlucky to run into someone like him," another added.

A buzz of conversation rippled through the crowd, their gazes toward Yang Fan full of awe. To so swiftly subdue the thief, he must be highly skilled.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" The middle-aged woman hurried to Yang Fan’s side, her gratitude overflowing.

"No need to thank me. That fool brought it upon himself," Yang Fan replied indifferently.

He hadn't intended to intervene, but the thief, oblivious to who he was, had attacked him. He had simply responded.

"Ah, you’re Yang Fan—Meili’s son!" The woman looked at him intently, then exclaimed in surprise.

Yang Fan felt a stir of confusion. He didn’t recognize her, but at the mention of his mother’s name, he paused.

"Yang Fan, don’t you remember me? Three years ago, you and your mother came to see me. She lent me thirty thousand yuan. If not for her, my company would have gone bankrupt," the woman explained hurriedly.

Her words awakened a memory in Yang Fan’s mind.

Three years earlier, before his mother had passed away, he had accompanied her to Yuancheng. The woman before him was Zhang Mei, his mother’s closest friend in life.

At that time, Zhang Mei’s company was in crisis and on the verge of collapse. In the end, Yang Fan’s mother had brought thirty thousand yuan to help her. With that money, Zhang Mei had barely survived the crisis.

Of course, Yang Fan hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

"I suppose that did happen," Yang Fan replied after a moment’s thought.

"Yang Fan, we haven’t seen each other since your mother passed away. Now that you’re in Yuancheng, Aunt Zhang must treat you properly," Zhang Mei said earnestly.

Having met her best friend’s son, she was determined to be a good host.

Yang Fan hadn’t wanted to trouble her, but unable to refuse Zhang Mei’s insistence, he agreed to dine at her home.

As for the robber, he had already been taken away by the police for questioning.

"Mom, you’re back!"

As Zhang Mei led Yang Fan through the door, a girl of about eighteen came over. She was fresh-faced and pretty, dressed in fashionable clothes, tall and well-proportioned—a breath of fresh air.

At the sight of Yang Fan behind her mother, Zhang Qingya froze for a moment, puzzled as to why her mother had brought home such a handsome young man.

"Qingya, this is Yang Fan, the son of my friend Meili. You can call him brother," Zhang Mei explained.

Hearing that the handsome guest was the son of her mother’s best friend, Zhang Qingya was a little surprised.

She had often heard her mother mention someone named Zhou Meili, who had once helped her mother greatly in overcoming a difficult period with her company. Zhang Qingya felt a deep sense of gratitude toward this Zhou Meili.

"Brother Yang Fan," Zhang Qingya said sweetly.

Yang Fan gave a faint smile but said nothing. All he wanted was to finish the meal and return home.

"Qingya, keep Yang Fan company in the living room. I'll go make dinner," Zhang Mei said, heading off to the kitchen.

Yang Fan sat in the living room, eyes fixed on the TV, making no effort to start a conversation.

Zhang Qingya, meanwhile, regarded him with curiosity.

"Brother Yang Fan, your family must be quite wealthy, right?" she asked.

After all, his mother had been able to lend thirty thousand yuan, which in Zhang Qingya’s mind meant they were well-off.

Yang Fan smiled slightly. "Now I’m on my own."

"On your own? What do you mean?" Zhang Qingya asked, puzzled.

"I have nothing to do with my family anymore," Yang Fan replied calmly.

She was taken aback. "So what do you do now?"

"I’m currently unemployed—a drifter," he answered.

Learning that he had no job, Zhang Qingya was at a loss for words.

"Don’t you want to find a job?" she asked.

"I like peace and quiet. I don’t care for work," Yang Fan said with a light laugh.

At this, Zhang Qingya concluded he must be living off his savings. Perhaps his family had given him a substantial sum before he parted ways with them. After all, as the young master of a wealthy family, even if estranged, he would hardly be left penniless.

That was her guess.

They spoke little after that. Zhang Qingya found him eccentric and not much of a conversationalist.

Once dinner was ready, they gathered around the table to eat.