In the streets of Mian, Jin Muchen strolled, immersed in the bustling ambiance while contemplating the need to enrich his repertoire of appraisal knowledge and craftsmanship from Master Fang. The ambition to earn more, thus alleviating the burdens at home, weighed on his mind.
Master Fang's antique store stood tall on Union Avenue, a left turn off Mian Street, leading through a series of alleys to the rear of the store. However, in America, many refrain from venturing into such alleys at night.
Though Flushing boasted good public safety, being in the Queens borough prompted most to avoid such alleys after 8 p.m. Yet, Jin Muchen harbored no fear, bolstered by unwavering self-assurance in his abilities and his remarkably keen eyesight, even in the dark, providing confidence in early detection and evasion of alleyway perils.
Three alleys traversed without incident, despite encountering a few lurking figures at their mouths, Jin Muchen deftly diverted his path from these individuals.
Soon, arriving at Master Fang's rear alley, Jin Muchen caught wind of a woman's piercing scream. Advancing a few steps, he spotted two shadows skulking beside a dumpster ahead.
"Hey, fellow, this is none of your concern. Be wise and walk away," the figure beside the dumpster retorted vehemently upon Jin Muchen's discovery.
Emerging from the shadows, the figure, an African American man, held a Caucasian girl in his arms, evidently against her will, with his forearm tightly around her neck and a gleaming dagger in hand.
Recognizing the familiar scenario of a mugging, Jin Muchen lifted his hands in surrender. "Hey! I mean no trouble," he uttered, while internally deliberating his course of action.
In New York, nightly muggings tally in the hundreds, officially recorded only after police intervention, with unreported incidents potentially doubling those figures.
Most muggings occur in areas like Harlem and Sinclair Community, predominately inhabited by African American and Latino populations.
Although Flushing's security once compared favorably, the district paled against Manhattan's Upper East Side. Consequently, a minimum of a dozen muggings occurred nightly, with holidays likely witnessing a surge in such incidents.
Jin Muchen had previously encountered such situations but had been fortunate enough not to fall victim, having been a mere observer during his days as a struggling student.
In America, the correct response to such incidents was immediate retreat before the assailants noticed, followed by alerting the authorities.
Even if the mugger confronted you, it was unwise to play the hero. It was not encouraged to act valiantly in such circumstances.
Therefore, despite his confidence in his martial skills, Jin Muchen had no intention of acting heroically.
Although skilled in martial arts, he had not trained to the extent of invulnerability, especially considering the prevalent firearm ownership in America.
Most muggers in the area were armed, and attempting heroics risked not only one's life but also potential harm to others.
Even subduing a mugger could lead to legal repercussions if severe bodily harm was inflicted, potentially resulting in a court trial.
Thus, the notion of heroism had no place here. In such situations, the best course of action was to retreat promptly.
Jin Muchen raised his hands, signaling his lack of hostile intentions, before slowly backing away.
Observing Jin Muchen's retreat, the African American man's tense expression gradually eased, eventually morphing into arrogance.
Meanwhile, the girl in his arms began to struggle vigorously. Jin Muchen halted his steps, perturbed by the situation. If it were merely a mugging, he would not intervene, but the man seemed to have more sinister intentions.
Glancing at the girl, her partially obscured face triggered a sense of familiarity, especially as she sobbed, her ample bosom heaving with each breath. Jin Muchen felt a strange recognition but paused to ponder further.
However, the derogatory term "Chinaman" used by the man irked Jin Muchen, his staunchest stance against racial discrimination.
Therefore, he stood his ground, prompting the man to escalate in anger.
This "Chinaman" seemed audacious, unlike the Chinese individuals Jin Muchen had previously encountered, who fled at the slightest intimidation.
But what could defiance achieve? Did he think he was Bruce Lee?
"Chinaman, do you think you're Bruce Lee? Or Jackie Chan?" the man snarled, charging forward with his knife. Assured of the absence of firearms, Jin Muchen remained unfazed.
As the man lunged within arm's reach, brandishing his knife, Jin Muchen made no attempt to dodge. In that moment of heightened focus, the assailant's movements seemed slowed to cinematic precision. With a swift grab, Jin Muchen seized the man's wrist holding the blade.
The man felt his body numbing, as if clamped by a vice, Jin Muchen's grip firm and unyielding. Before he could react, darkness enveloped him, a massive fist landing squarely on his face.
The hefty African American assailant, standing over six feet tall and weighing over two hundred pounds, was sent hurtling three meters backward, crashing heavily to the ground, motionless.
Approaching the girl, Jin Muchen found her leaning against the dumpster, her tears ceased, replaced by heavy breaths.
"How about it? Shall I call the police for you?" Jin Muchen inquired, observing the girl. Upon lifting her gaze, illuminated by the alley's lamplight, Jin Muchen was momentarily stunned.
"It's you? Candice, what are you doing here?" he exclaimed.
The girl, none other than Candice, the waitress from the Red Pony Bar whom Jin Muchen had encountered before, looked up. Her eyes, red from fear, gradually regained composure upon recognizing her savior.
"It's you? I'm fine now. Thank you again," Candice uttered, her emotions steadying, relief washing over her.
"I didn't expect to see you again, let alone saving me for the second time!" she remarked.
"Indeed, neither did I. Saving you twice now!" Jin Muchen chuckled, recognizing the advantage of exchanging a few words with the girl.
"Shall I call the police?" Jin Muchen reached for his phone, but Candice swiftly intervened.
"No, he's badly injured. If you call the police, you might get into trouble," she cautioned.
Jin Muchen hesitated, glancing back at the unconscious man. His injuries appeared severe, with a collapsed nasal bridge and several dislodged teeth, suggesting at least a minor concussion, if not worse.
If the police were alerted, despite apprehending the assailant, potential accusations of deliberate harm could ensnare Jin Muchen.
"Help me up," Jin Muchen offered, bending down as Candice placed her hand on his shoulder, rising to her feet. A few hops alleviated the cramp in her legs caused by fear.
Approaching the fallen man, Candice delivered a decisive stomp to his groin, muttering curses under her breath, her face contorted with determination.