La Novels
Chapter 52
Sherman's tone was casual as he asked. "What if she doesn’t show up tomorrow?"
Daniel gritted his teeth and replied, "Then it's a four-canned herring bet!" Daniel was so bold because he was sure Anthea would come.
After all, Anthea had already caught Sherman's eye early on, and it made no sense for her to bail at such a critical moment.
Sherman nodded slightly. "Alright, let's bet on it once more."
"Don't worry, Sherman. I won't let you down this time," Daniel said with a grin, keeping pace with Sherman.
...
Elsewhere, Anthea and Nanson were walking home in the moonlight.
The moon's gentle glow cast a silvery sheen on them.
"Uncle Nanson, you get up for work at dawn every day. There's no need for you to pick me up anymore. I can make it home on my own," Anthea said.
Nanson frowned. "How can I let that happen? A young lady walking home alone at night is dangerous! What if you run into trouble? Who's going to protect you?"
"I can protect myself," Anthea replied with a smile.
Nanson glanced at her and said speechlessly, "With those skinny arms and legs of yours, someone could lift you with one hand. You protecting yourself is..."
Although Anthea was tall, she was slender. Nanson often thought that on a windy day, he should put a few stones in Anthea's pockets to prevent her from being blown away by the gusts.
"We'll see it," Anthea said, raising an eyebrow slightly. This belongs © NôvelDra/ma.Org.
Nanson shook his head helplessly, "You're all talk, kiddo."
A short distance away, a group of guys huddled together, their flickering cigarettes illuminating their faces as they shared crude jokes.
Under the moonlight and streetlamps, they noticed Anthea and Nanson approaching. One of them quickly tossed his cigarette, "Jack! Jack! Look over there!"
Jack, a muscular youth with tattoos, straightened up and looked in their direction. "Heads up, everyone! Got the camera ready?"
"Don't worry, Jack. We're all set!" another young man waved the camera in hand.
The others quickly pulled out hidden metal pipes, which reflected a chilling gleam under the moonlight.
Nanson noticed the group ahead, and unease crept over him.
Thankfully, he'd been diligent about picking up Anthea from work. Otherwise, she might be in real trouble tonight.
"Ann, something's off up ahead. Stay behind me," he said, instinctively positioning himself in front of Anthea.
"Hold it right there!" A metal pipe barred Nanson's path.
He looked up to see several menacing faces. "You've got some nerve, acting tough on Nanson's turf!"
The tattooed youth grabbed Nanson's collar and hoisted him up. "Feisty, aren't you, kid?"
At that moment, Nanson saw the tattoo on the young man's neck.
That was a tattoo associated with the underworld.
Nanson swallowed, his expression changed instantly, and he began to sweat profusely. With a trembling voice, he said, "Oh, it's Jack! It must be a big misunderstanding. My bad. I didn't recognize you, sir. Please, have the heart of a saint and forgive a small fry like me..."
"Let go of my uncle," Anthea stepped forward, her gaze calm and the moonlight casting a soft glow on her smooth face. "You have three seconds."
The tattooed youth smirked, still holding Nanson with one hand as he turned to Anthea. At first, he was stunned, but then the admiration in his eyes slowly turned to disdain.
The girl had quite the nerve!
"3, 2..." Anthea crossed her arms and began counting down, her lips curling into a slight, indifferent smirk that carried a hint of defiance.
Thrown for a loop by Anthea's brashness, Nanson jumped in, "Jack, she's my niece...just a clueless kid. Don't take it personally. Ann! This is big people talk. Time for you to head home!"