The Female Teacher Who Fights Back - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 Trouble Comes Knocking (1)

Translator: Iris
Proofreader: Xera

More than six months had passed since the incident in Feng Bo. Inside a small noodle shop near Liuyun Street, a young woman was crouching in the kitchen, washing stacks of bowls at incredible speed.

The woman was sporting a messy, helmet-like haircut, and her thick, long fringe covered half of her face, making it impossible to see her features clearly. She wore a light-gray tracksuit, and the cuffs and front were smeared with oil stains and grime. The left shoulder was torn into two openings.

“Xiao Wu, good work!” The noodle shop owner, pushing out his enormous belly, took two hundred-yuan bills from the cash box tucked into his chest pocket and condescendingly handed them to the woman.

The woman, addressed as ‘Xiao Wu,’ wiped her soapy hands on her trousers, took the money without looking at it, and shoved it in her pocket. Then, glancing at her watch, which pointed at 9 o’clock, she slowly stood up, ready to finish her work for the day.

The shop owner, however, took a step sideways, and his large body blocked the woman’s path. He asked with a leering smile, “Xiao Wu, how old are you this year?”

“Twenty-four.”

“When did you start working odd jobs?”

“Ten years old.”

“Have you ever been to school?”

“No.”

“How many people are in your family?”

“Myself.”

“No wonder you choose a dirty, exhausting job like washing dishes.” The boss measured the woman from head to toe, his gaze finally lingering on the white, half-exposed collarbone. He offered ‘kind’ advice: “How about it? Don’t you want to earn a little more money to improve your current life?”

The woman, however, replied flatly with two words: “I don’t.”

“Oh—” The boss didn’t seem to expect such a firm refusal. He chuckled dryly for a moment, then coaxed, “Xiao Wu, don’t speak so absolutely. I, your boss, am considered a successful person. Although I’m not incredibly rich or noble, I can guarantee you a lifetime of worry-free food and clothing.”

The woman wore a cold expression that suggested none of this concerned her and said calmly, “You have a wife.”

“That old shrew is busy fighting with her dog-friends at home, where does she have the time to care about my personal affairs?” The boss dismissed it with a snort and continued to drag out his solicitation: “Xiao Wu, suppose you agree to work for me, how about you manage all the money in the shop?”

As he spoke, the boss’s gaze moved down, stopping on the woman’s small, fair hands, which were still delicate and slender despite long periods of rough, tiresome work. The greedy look in his eyes made it seem like he couldn’t wait to take her clothes off and enjoy her.

However, just as the lecherous middle-aged boss was about to make a move, the woman picked up a beer bottle from the shelf beside her and violently smashed it down. Shards of glass were scattered everywhere, and wine mixed with blood slowly ran down the boss’s forehead. The woman then offered an insincere apology: “Sorry, my hand slipped!”

Upon hearing this, the boss clutched his bleeding forehead and roared: “Wu Lang, how dare you! Take a good look at yourself! I, your boss, want to be with you; it’s you who profits, so stop being shameless!”

In response, Wu Lang was not angry. Instead, she patiently retorted: “Boss, every time I see you, I feel like I’m looking at a piece of pork, so I really cannot accept your kindness.”

“Huh?”

As if sensing the boss’s confusion, Wu Lang added with utmost sincerity: “The price of pork is soaring now. You need to understand my misery—I look at you, who’s like pork, yet I can’t eat you.”

Thump—

The boss, whether from excessive bleeding or being exasperated by the woman, fell face-first onto the ground. Before completely losing consciousness, he gnashed his teeth and said seven words: “Wu… Wu Lang… you… are… fired!”