The Twelve Zodiac Guardian Gods​

Qi Yue moved faster than Yan Xiaoyi ever expected.

The brick crashed against Yan Xiaoyi’s head with a sickening crack. In that split second—just before the pain overwhelmed him—Yan Xiaoyi finally understood what the old saying meant: “Why are the flowers so red?”

([Note: A darkly poetic Chinese expression used when someone gets beaten severely, often used sarcastically.])

His legs gave out beneath him. The famed Northern Leg Style he had trained in never even had a chance to show itself. He collapsed, blood already trickling from his scalp.

Vole charged in right behind his boss. He was slower, but not the least bit hesitant. The second he saw Yan Xiaoyi go down, he dove in, brick still in hand. Qi Yue’s weapon had shattered, but his fists remained—and in his eyes, this was an opportunity that couldn’t be wasted.

The fat-and-thin duo descended on Yan Xiaoyi like a torrential downpour of fists and bricks. Their blows rained down as he groaned beneath them. To his credit, Yan Xiaoyi still knew enough to curl into a ball and protect his head. But despite being a trained martial artist, he was completely outmatched in this dirty, no-rules kind of street fight. Qi Yue, after all, had far more experience with chaos.

The crowd of students had scattered. Nana stood frozen, horrified by the sheer brutality unfolding before her.

Then someone screamed.

A high-pitched, shrill voice—probably from one of the schoolgirls watching nearby—pierced the air like a siren.

“Murder!”

Qi Yue and Vole froze.

The adrenaline that had been rushing through their veins just seconds ago evaporated in an instant. They turned to look at each other. Panic flickered in their eyes.

Blood was streaming from Yan Xiaoyi’s head. His branded sportswear was soaked in crimson and dirt, twisted in a grotesque mess. Though his body still twitched slightly, it was clear—he was in no shape to fight back anymore.

That word—murder—echoed in their minds like a death sentence.

“B-Boss,” Vole stammered, eyes wide. “You… you don’t think we really killed him, right?”

Qi Yue’s expression hardened. “What do we do? What else? We finish the job and walk!”

He glanced around, then quickly pulled off Yan Xiaoyi’s pants and wrapped them tightly around the boy’s bleeding head. It was early summer—Yan was only wearing a pair of boxers underneath. His bruised legs and battered skin were exposed and trembling violently.

Qi Yue gave one final, merciless kick to Yan’s side, making his entire body shudder from the impact.

Then, with one last smirk, he shot a glance at Nana’s chest—but the look in his eyes wasn’t one of longing anymore. It was pure scorn.

Without another word, he turned and bolted. Vole followed close behind.

Qi Yue never once looked back.

He no longer had any illusions about Nana. She had shown her true colors—just another girl who hopped from guy to guy like getting on and off a bus. Why would he want someone like that again?

He hadn’t come to win her back.

He’d only come to vent.

And yet, as they ran down the street, the image of Nana still clung to the back of his mind… those stolen moments, her laughter, the things they never got to share. No matter how much he told himself she wasn’t worth it—first love always left scars.

The two finally slowed when they reached a quiet alley a few blocks away. Qi Yue leaned against a wall, panting, his expression unreadable.

Vole wiped the sweat from his brow, still a little shaken. “Boss, weren’t we kinda… too harsh back there? I didn’t think that guy would fold so easily. Dude talked big, but he didn’t even put up a fight. Real letdown.”

Qi Yue spat to the side and muttered coldly, “Always remember this, Vole: Bricks break martial arts. That’s been true since ancient times. You catch someone off guard, and it doesn’t matter if they’re the so-called Northern Leg King. They’re still just meat.”

Vole hesitated, then asked curiously, “Boss… I’ve always wondered. Why don’t we just carry cleavers or something? Wouldn’t that be way more badass?”

Qi Yue shot him a look. “You idiot. You carry a cleaver, that’s attempted murder. You carry a brick? That’s ‘sudden emotional conflict.’ We’re fighters, not criminals. Know the line.”

Qi Yue looked smug as he explained, “You don’t get it. Carrying a cleaver counts as a controlled weapon—get caught with one, and you’re in serious trouble. But a brick? Totally different. Even if you get busted, it’s a slap on the wrist at most. And bricks? They’re everywhere. Easy to grab, easy to use. That’s real experience talking.”

He stretched lazily, then clapped Vole on the shoulder. “Alright, fat man, you head home. Your boss has to disappear for a while. That punk Yan Xiaoyi might not be dead, but he’ll definitely be out of commission. I asked around—his dad really is connected to the City Council. If I don’t run now, I might not get the chance later. You’re different. You’ve got a home to go back to. Just lay low and you’ll be fine.”

Compared to Qi Yue’s world, Vole’s life couldn’t have been more different.

Qi Yue was an orphan—no family, no backing. But Vole? He had a powerful father, though even he wasn’t sure just how rich his dad really was. He didn’t hang around Qi Yue for protection or money. Truth be told, he just didn’t care much for school.

His parents had spent a fortune to get him into a prestigious high school, but he skipped class all the time—usually just to hang out with Qi Yue. The two had met by chance one afternoon, when Vole witnessed Qi Yue single-handedly beat down three punks from a rival neighborhood. It wasn’t just the strength that impressed him—it was the raw presence, that king’s aura Qi Yue radiated even while bleeding.

From that moment on, Vole swore loyalty. Qi Yue was his boss, no questions asked.

“Boss… where will you go?” Vole asked quietly, his voice tinged with concern.

Qi Yue smirked and gave his shoulder another firm pat. “Don’t worry. Your boss has been through worse. Sure, this time’s a little messier than usual, but skipping town’s no big deal. I’ll just have to lay low a bit longer. Might be a while before I can come back to Beijing though.”

He paused, looking up at the sky, voice softening. “To be honest… you’re lucky, fat man. You’ve got a good setup. I’ve always admired guys who can actually study. Even if it’s hard, if you make it past high school, you’ve still got a shot at college. But me? I’m almost eighteen. That door’s already closed. So, who else is gonna make money but me?”

“Boss… here. Take this.” Vole fumbled through his backpack and pulled out a brand-new smartphone, still in its box. “My mom gave it to me yesterday. You use it. So I can call you, you know?”

Then, as if he’d just remembered something important, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bank card. “Oh, and this too—my new Construction Bank Dragon Card. My dad helped me get an ID early, so I could open an account. There’s twenty thousand yuan in there. Password’s my birthday.”

Qi Yue stared at Vole in stunned silence. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, his voice flat, eyes glinting with something raw beneath the surface.

He pressed the card into Qi Yue’s hand. “Use it, Boss. If that’s not enough, just call me. I’ll figure out a way to get you more.”

A flush crept up his cheeks. He quickly shoved the phone and bank card back into Vole’s hands. “I can’t take this. Today’s mess was all on me—how could I drag you into it, let alone take your stuff? Relax, your boss knows how to survive. I won’t die.”

But Vole refused to take them back. His small eyes were unusually firm. “No, Boss. You have to take them.”

He hesitated, then added, “Oh, right—my dad mentioned that the Qinghai–Tibet Railway just opened. I heard the scenery in Tibet is amazing. It’s far enough from the capital that nobody will be looking for you. You could even pass as a tourist. Twenty thousand yuan, used wisely, should last at least a month. I’ll talk to my dad again once things settle down. When it’s safe, I’ll call you. But you need to go now, Boss. Don’t wait—bad things always happen when you wait.”

Before Qi Yue could force the phone and card back into his hands, Vole turned and ran.

Qi Yue chased after him instinctively, but stopped after just a few steps. He clenched his fists, trembling slightly.

He knew it—he had no other choice.

The twenty thousand yuan was life-saving. The orphanage had already kicked him out for “bad behavior.” He was barely scraping by on government assistance, renting a moldy basement room with no deposit, no future. Even the relief payments had been coming late, if at all.

And then there was what he’d done today.

When he’d smashed that brick into Yan Xiaoyi’s head, he’d heard the bone crack. That sound kept echoing in his ears. If Xiaoyi ended up dead… At nineteen, Qi Yue would no longer be protected under the juvenile justice law.

The thought of death made his chest tighten. A wave of cold fear crept through him.

Damn it, he thought bitterly. I haven’t even lost my virginity yet!

He looked toward the street where Vole had disappeared. The boy hadn’t run very fast.

Qi Yue took a deep breath. Something inside him shifted, almost imperceptibly.

“Good brother,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m borrowing this from you. If I make it back alive… I swear, I’ll pay it back a thousand times over.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cheap cigarettes. Only one left. He stuck it between his lips.

Then he fumbled around.

No lighter.

He sighed.

Of course.