Chapter 415: How Much for Your Worthless Life?

Donna Thorne was at her wit’s end.

There were no customers right now. ’Why aren’t you sitting quietly behind your own stall? What are you doing standing in front of my cart? You can clearly see I’m trying to move it, so why stand there?’

But she couldn’t blame the man.

There were no designated parking spots here, let alone designated vendor stalls. They were all operating without permits, illegally occupying the space. She was in the wrong to begin with, and starting a fight would do her no good.

Besides, she didn’t want any more trouble. Those punks from earlier were annoying enough.

"I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t see you. It wasn’t on purpose. Are you okay?"

Seeing her apologize, the man immediately started shouting even louder.

"What do you mean, ’am I okay?’ How could I be okay after getting hit by your tricycle? I have a heart condition, and now it’s really hurting... Ouch..."

Donna was speechless.

’He deliberately stood in front of my cart, and now he’s claiming to have a heart condition? Isn’t this a blatant attempt to pull a scam?’

’What rotten luck. Why am I running into psychos so early in the morning?’

"I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know you had a condition, and I really didn’t mean to. Besides, I was moving very slowly. I just set up my stall and haven’t even made my first sale yet. You see..."

The man shot back, "What does you not making a sale have to do with me? So what, you’re blaming me now because you haven’t had any business?"

That wasn’t what Donna meant at all. ’Good heavens,’ she thought, ’which part of what I said even hinted at that?’

She fought to suppress her anger.

"No, no, that’s not what I meant. I mean... How about this? Let me make you a roujiamo, on the house. I’ll add extra fillings. Consider it my apology, okay? We’re from the same area, and we’re in the same trade..."

Before she could finish, the man’s angry roar cut her off.

"You know we’re in the same trade? You think I’ve never fucking had a roujiamo before? Apologizing with a single roujiamo? The nerve!"

"Cut the crap! I feel terrible right now. Take me to the hospital, now! Otherwise, if I collapse right here, you won’t be able to afford it even if you sell a thousand roujiamos!"

With a roar of laughter, the other vendors all around them burst out laughing again.

Everyone knew this man. He was the type to work for a day and skip two, so they’d run into him occasionally when he decided to set up his stall.

He was supposedly thirty-eight, with a son and a daughter. A few years ago, his wife had apparently gotten fed up with his gluttony and laziness and run off with another man.

After his wife left, the man became even more lawless. He dumped his kids with his parents back in his hometown and scraped by with this little stall, spending what little money he earned on fooling around.

The reason he was treating Donna this way was undoubtedly because he knew about her bad reputation and poor family background. He figured no one would stick up for her, so he decided to take advantage.

The beauty and the beast dynamic was always a good show. Even though they knew perfectly well that nothing was wrong with the man, the crowd still jeered and egged him on.

"Yeah, if he collapses, you’ll have to give him CPR! Better take him to the hospital now!"

"They say even a filial son won’t stick around for a long illness, but a lover might! Once he’s in the hospital, if you visit him every day, it could become a legendary romance!"

"Hahahaha, I think that sounds great!"

Spurred on by the crowd’s jeering, the man got a sudden rush of adrenaline, as if he’d been shot up with stimulants. He grew even bolder and reached for Donna with his old, rough hand.

Donna hastily took two steps back.

Her face was pale and her jaw was clenched. Forgetting all about her stall, she turned to get on her tricycle and leave. But the man had gotten a taste of harassing her; how could he possibly let her go so easily?

"Where do you think you’re going? Trying to run after hitting someone? That’s a hit-and-run! With so many eyes watching, where can you possibly run?"

The man grabbed the back of her shirt. Summer clothes were thin to begin with, and though Donna was wearing a modest T-shirt, a patch of her skin was exposed when he tugged on it. The crowd immediately burst into louder laughter.

"Starting to flirt already? Is this something we’re allowed to watch? Why don’t you two just pack up your stalls and take this home!"

Brandon Jacobs watched this disgusting scene from beginning to end, feeling a deep sense of sorrow for Donna Thorne.

Harsh lands breed vile people. It was the first time in his life he had experienced this truth so vividly.

He was suddenly reminded of a movie: Malèna.

The heroine of the film suffered many undeserved disasters simply because she was beautiful—beautiful and poor.

Brandon Jacobs suddenly understood why Donna Thorne had such a bad reputation.

She was too beautiful. Ethereally so. Her unique beauty made her stand out, completely at odds with her surroundings.

Compared to her, other women looked like ugly ducklings. The men knew they could never be worthy of her. Everyone knew they weren’t in the same league, so their only recourse was to viciously slander her, to drag her down to their level and satisfy their own twisted psyches.

It was truly her misfortune to be born in a place like this.

The T-shirt Donna was wearing was of poor quality; if the man kept pulling, it would rip. With a grim expression, Brandon Jacobs walked over.

The man was basking triumphantly in the crowd’s laughter when suddenly, a hand clamped around his neck and lifted him off his feet.

Before he could even process what was happening, he was sent flying across the road with a CRASH, slamming hard into a cart selling steamed buns.

The sound of bones cracking could be heard. The man grimaced in pain, blood pouring from his head. The startled onlookers all turned their gazes to Brandon Jacobs.

They saw Brandon Jacobs staring coldly at the man. Without a word, he started walking slowly toward him again.

He cracked his knuckles and loosened his wrists as he walked, looking like he was just getting warmed up for a big fight.

The man stared at him in terror, as if he were looking at the King of Hell.

"What are you doing? Are you crazy? I don’t know you! We have no beef! Why are you hitting me? What do you want? Don’t come any closer! These people around us are my brothers and sisters! They’ll call the police! Stay back!"

Brandon Jacobs paid him no mind.

He walked right up to him and, SLAP SLAP, delivered several sharp slaps to his face. While the man was still dizzy and disoriented, Brandon grabbed him by the hair, slammed his head hard against the cart behind him, then yanked him down and threw him flat on the ground, planting a large foot on his chest.

"Weren’t you injured? Weren’t you dying? Did you absolutely have to go to the hospital? Fine. I’ll grant your wish. Feeling much better now, are we?"

"You..." The man was in so much pain he curled into a ball, unable to speak.

Brandon Jacobs kept his foot pressed firmly on the man, but his words were for the others.

"She’s my woman. You aren’t worthy of a single glance at her, let alone speaking to her. If I ever hear of anyone disrespecting her again, this will be their fate."

The crowd was silent.

’He’s handsome, and he’s well-dressed,’ they thought, ’but isn’t he being a bit too arrogant? This is a society of laws, after all!’

After speaking, Brandon Jacobs scanned the crowd. Seeing a few of the older men with defiant expressions, he released the one on the ground and walked toward one of them.

Before Brandon even reached him, the man scrambled backward in fear.

"What are you doing? I didn’t do anything!"

Brandon Jacobs looked at him coldly.

"How much does it cost to buy your worthless life? How much for all of your worthless lives combined? I don’t have much, but I have money. You don’t believe me, is that it? Want to end up like him and find out?"

Terrified, the crowd began to tremble. Forgetting all about their stalls, they scrambled onto their own tricycles and fled before Brandon Jacobs could turn his attention to them.