When Xu Xiaoyue saw that all-too-familiar face again, for a moment, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her.  

Chief Li’s expression shifted slightly as he hurriedly explained, “Regiment Commander Yan, I was just following procedure in this matter.”  

Yan Ye narrowed his eyes slightly. “Following procedure? Without even investigating the situation clearly, you just handcuffed one side based on a hunch—is that your procedure?”  

Seeing the situation take a bad turn, Scarface quickly interjected, “Officer, this woman’s hands are vicious. Just look at my head—she smashed it like this!”  

Yan Ye let out a cold scoff, the corner of his lips curling into a frosty smile. “A female comrade, for no reason, would deliberately provoke you? What good would that do her?”  

“You know exactly what you did. The bystanders saw it clearly too.”  

After speaking, he turned to Xu Xiaoyue, meeting her teary almond-shaped eyes, now brimming with glistening moisture, on the verge of spilling over.  

Yan Ye had thought that when he saw Xu Xiaoyue again, his heart would remain calm.  

Perhaps, once upon a time, he had harbored some slight affection for this female comrade.  

But he still remembered clearly—Xu Xiaoyue had said she didn’t like him.  

Proud as he was, once he learned that Xu Xiaoyue had no feelings for him whatsoever, he resolved to vanish from her sight forever.  

No more disturbances between them.  

But Yan Ye realized he had overestimated his self-control.  

Seeing the tears about to overflow from the woman’s eyes, his heart felt as though it were being tightly gripped by a large hand. The emotions he had once deliberately suppressed now surged over him like a tidal wave.  

“Uncuff her,” Yan Ye ordered.  

Chief Li hesitated for a moment but ultimately signaled his subordinate to remove the handcuffs from Xu Xiaoyue.  

Scarface, standing nearby, was furious at the sight.  

“Officers, you can’t show favoritism like this! Besides, I have connections at the station—Zhang Dehua is my uncle, and he’s the top authority at the precinct. You can’t treat me like this!”  

Yan Ye’s gaze turned icy as he glanced at the man, his expression somewhere between a smile and something darker. “Chief Li, do we have a comrade by that name in our bureau?”  

The moment Scarface shouted Zhang Dehua’s name, Chief Li had already broken out in a cold sweat. Now, hearing Yan Ye’s question, his mind went blank.  

He forced an awkward laugh, shooting a cold glare at Scarface. “Regiment Commander Yan, you can’t trust the words of a street thug. He probably just memorized the name and is slandering someone.”  

Yan Ye’s face remained expressionless, as if he believed it—or perhaps not.  

“Cuff him and take him away,” he said flatly.  

“Cuff? Who… who are we cuffing?”  

The junior officers were confused, their eyes darting between Xu Xiaoyue and Scarface’s faces.  

Chief Li stepped forward and smacked each of them on the head. “Still don’t get it? The one who looks like the troublemaker—cuff him!”  

Scarface, drunk and further dazed by Xu Xiaoyue’s blow, was completely disoriented.  

Everything had been going according to plan—until this so-called Regiment Commander Yan showed up and, without hesitation, ordered him arrested.  

And this little bitch in front of him—after just a few words, they were ready to let her go.  

He stood there, and no one expected him to suddenly break free from the officers’ grip and charge at Xu Xiaoyue.  

“Die, die, DIE—!”  

Scarface roared furiously. Xu Xiaoyue let out a scream, but surrounded as she was, she couldn’t even retreat.  

Fortunately, Yan Ye reacted swiftly. In one swift motion, he stepped forward, shielding the woman behind him, and delivered a powerful kick to Scarface.  

He didn’t hold back—the force sent Scarface tumbling across the ground three full times before he finally came to a stop.

Scarface groaned in pain, writhing on the ground, a far cry from his earlier ferocity.  

Beside him, Yan Ye was still holding Xu Xiaoyue. When she snapped out of her daze, her first instinct was to pull away from the man’s embrace. She looked up in a panic, hastily grabbing his arm to check his injury.  

“Where did he cut you? Is it bleeding?”  

No one had expected the man to be so insane—he had picked up a broken piece of tile from the ground and lunged at them. If Yan Ye hadn’t blocked him, that shard would have slashed Xu Xiaoyue’s face instead.  

Yan Ye was wearing civilian clothes, the black fabric now soaked with blood, which still seemed to be seeping out.  

Xu Xiaoyue stared at the dark, wet stain, her face deathly pale, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of her throat.  

This is bad. They say soldiers shouldn’t have scars.  

If something happened to Yan Ye because of her—forget whether the Yan family would ever forgive her—she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself.  

And if this left a scar, would it affect his chances for promotion?  

Though she really hadn’t wanted to see Yan Ye these past few days, she never wished for anything bad to happen to him—especially not because he was protecting her.  

Xu Xiaoyue hated owing favors more than anything, yet with Yan Ye, she’d lost count of how many times she was indebted to him.  

Her head buzzed, her vision blurred as if shrouded in fog, her blood pressure skyrocketing until she could hardly tell what day it was.  

Without another thought for the man on the ground, she tugged at Yan Ye’s hand, her voice trembling with barely suppressed sobs.  

“You’re bleeding. We have to go to the hospital.”  

Frantic, she pulled him toward the exit, her eyes a storm of worry, anxiety, grief, and fear, all tangled together.  

While Xu Xiaoyue was focused on his wound, Yan Ye kept his gaze lowered, his eyes fixed only on her pale, helpless little face—her skin like luminous snow, her misty almond eyes blinking repeatedly, red-rimmed, her unconsciously bitten lips a tender, delicate pink.  

Just looking at her like this made heat surge through Yan Ye’s body. His eyes lingered on those cherry-like lips, wondering if they tasted even sweeter than the fruit.  

Seeing him injured, she’s crying like a little widow.

Did that mean… she was worried about him?  

Perhaps this affection wasn’t just a solo performance on his part after all.  

The gloom of the past few days dissipated in an instant. It was as if he’d chugged a bottle of soda—effervescent, exhilarating, a secret thrill coursing through him.