The corner of Shen Qing's brow twitched. Her eyes slowly narrowed as she looked in the direction of the voices.
The speakers were three youths, about fifteen or sixteen years old. They were sitting around a stone table behind a rockery, leisurely cracking melon seeds while spouting those disgusting words.
It was unclear how long Yu Zihan had been standing there listening. His face was livid, his mouth pressed into a thin, angry line. His fists were clenched, and his body trembled slightly—he was clearly furious to the extreme.
Suddenly, he took a sharp step forward, and Shen Qing's brow furrowed instantly.
Those three youths were older and larger than Zihan. He would definitely get the worst of it if he rushed out alone.
'Getting hurt just to beat up scum like them wasn't worth it.'
Shen Qing thought Zihan had reached his limit and was about to charge out. She was just about to stop him when, unexpectedly, he took that single step and stopped.
