She didn't beat around the bush; she laid it out plainly.
This matter clearly had Jiang Cheng's fingerprints all over it.
Jiang Cheng had no intention of hiding it from her either.
Leaning back in his chair, he lowered his voice. "Cheng Xiaodong's crew have been running riot in Chengdu. They bully regular folk at the drop of a hat; even if they're dragged to the station, they stroll right back out as if nothing happened."
"True," An Xin nodded, her tone as calm as if she were talking about strangers. "Their families aren't top-tier, but their local networks are tangled deep. Used to be, even if they beat someone up, within half an hour they'd walk out without a scratch—no record at all."
She paused and met Jiang Cheng's eyes. "I heard Linna's father is losing it, throwing money at every contact he can find, yet he still can't see his daughter. What's more interesting: from what I know, Linna isn't in solitary. She's sharing a cell with those perverted men who bullied them that night—and now… her mind seems to be cracking."
Jiang Cheng's face showed nothing.
Among them all, Linna had been the worst; she'd organized most of the assaults.
There were even incidents of her using illegal substances in public.
Cheng Xiaodong hadn't taken part, but he'd been one of the instigators.
Still, he'd watched and laughed the whole time—how was that any different from swinging the bat himself?
"Some people think their mistakes will just blow over," Jiang Cheng said, voice colder, fingers drumming his knee. "Maybe one day they'll get bored and turn over a new leaf, but for those they trampled, the scars are bone-deep—they'll carry them for life. Do not impose on others what you don't want done to you. Letting them taste their own medicine isn't going too far, is it?"
After saying that, he looked up at An Xin. "Besides, 'bystanders' like Cheng Xiaodong—do they really believe silence equals innocence? Silence isn't neutrality… sometimes standing by and watching is more disgusting than throwing the punch."
An Xin studied him quietly for several seconds.
"Silence isn't neutrality…" she echoed.
She suddenly realized Jiang Cheng was more clear-headed than she'd thought.
Most people in their circle excelled at saving their own skins.
When trouble didn't touch them, they pulled into their shells and called it 'moderation'.
But Jiang Cheng refused; he was like an unsheathed blade, willing to be bloodied.
He'd drag the filth hidden in shadows out into the sun for everyone to see.
After the Wen Ang incident, An Xin had believed she understood Jiang Cheng well enough.
She knew he wasn't soft—his methods ruthless, his mind deep—but she didn't feel repulsed.
She admitted she wasn't a good person herself, so to his ruthlessness she had only two words: "I approve."
After all, sometimes the soft-hearted don't last three days.
She'd assumed Jiang Cheng's move against Cheng Xiaodong was just a businessman's 'pull the weed by the root'.
Both to assert dominance and to clear future obstacles.
To her, 'mercy' was a luxury item.
Problems solvable by thunder means didn't deserve wasted time on morality.
Yet when he'd just said "do not impose on others," the calm in his eyes had surprised her.
It hadn't been the contempt of a superior for ants.
More like stating the simplest truth in the world.
Sow a bad seed, reap a bitter fruit.
An Xin recalled the first time she'd seen Jiang Cheng, how effortlessly he'd handled the men who'd abducted Annie.
There'd been a casual sharpness in his gaze.
Like a lurking predator, seemingly lazy yet able to clamp its jaws on prey in an instant.
She'd known then the man was no soft touch.
Later, watching him protect Zhou Ying and spoil girls like Qiao Yinyin and Bai Xiaoxiao, she'd sensed a contradictory softness in him.
But right now, as he spoke of the abusers' fates, that near-icy "justice" made her reassess him again.
He wasn't without sympathy—he just never wasted it on the undeserving.
An Xin's gaze drifted past Jiang Cheng to Qiao Yinyin and Bai Xiaoxiao beside him.
The two girls were listening to the adults while softly teasing Annie.
From the moment they'd arrived, An Xin could see.
Both of them looked at Jiang Cheng with complete dependence.
At the moment they probably hadn't sensed the undercurrents in the conversation.
Apart from Cheng Gui, every other family was pulling every string they could to fish their kids out.
They were even digging into Jiang Cheng's background.
Right now they probably thought Jiang Cheng was merely standing up for the bullied.
Unaware of the nerve and ruthlessness that "standing up" required.
Jiang Cheng glanced at An Xin and said deliberately, "Speaking of which, Cheng Xiaodong drank himself into a stupor because of you. If it weren't for you, he might still be blind to what 'opening his eyes' means."
The phrase 'opening his eyes' clearly didn't make her connect it to Cheng Xiaodong's recent suffering.
She tilted her head, puzzled. "Because of me??"
Seeing her bewilderment, Jiang Cheng shook his head with a half-smile.
"So you don't know he suddenly lashed out at me that day because of you? Rumor has it he's liked you since we were kids." His voice carried disbelief.
An Xin's expression barely shifted.
She even frowned slightly.
As if the news left her cold.
So, people really mustn't be simps.
And if you insist, at least be a skilled simp.
Enjoy the process, and let the girl feel something too.
At the very least she'll twitch her legs and call your name a few times.
What's the point of being a silent, unnoticed simp?
In the end you haven't softened her up, and she hasn't felt a thing.
Honestly, that's your own failure—don't blame anyone else.
"I genuinely didn't know. I never paid attention to him. If I'd realized he lost it because of me, I'd have been the one sending him inside."
Jiang Cheng had seen that look on her face before—right after Wen Ang died, when she'd finished talking to him.
He'd long known An Xin wasn't an ordinary girl.
Though she blushed and acted shy around him, her heart was hard.
In fact, the darkness inside her was no less than his own.
He'd already suspected she'd disposed of Annie's father.
Now her expression confirmed it.
While they talked, Annie ran over, panting. "Mommy, were you talking about Uncle Cheng? He came to our house the other day when you weren't home, but Grandpa wouldn't see him."
Hearing the girl, Jiang Cheng's mouth curved in amusement. "Huh, Old An's quite loyal after all."