"You!?" The man, sprawled on the rain-slick street, misread her laughter as mockery. His face, a canvas of pain and fury, twisted grotesquely under the dim glow of the flickering street lamps.
Tap-tap-tap!
The confrontation, poised on the knife-edge of violence, was pierced by a rhythmic tapping, slicing through the tense silence like a blade through silk.
"Who dares now!?" The man, his voice a blend of confusion and anger, whirled around, his frown cutting deep lines into his weather-beaten face.
"Be still, for anger serves no one," came Shi Yan's voice, firm yet imbued with an almost tangible compassion. He emerged from the shadows, his presence like a beacon in the night. Clad in a plain yellow robe that seemed impervious to the biting cold, his bald head and serene face radiated calm, giving him the aura of a monk who had transcended the worldly.
