In 1991, as the daylight faded into darkness, an icy wind swept down from the north, whistling across the land, and leaving a blanket of frost on the roads under the soft yellow glow of the street lamps.

In the Eastern District of the Northeastern Mountain City, the giant neon lights of a venue named "Rustic Ballroom" shone with vibrant colors, providing a meager amount of warmth to the bitter cold night.

At 7 p.m., bicycles began to cluster from all directions in front of the ballroom. Each bicycle was ridden by a man and had a woman sitting behind him.

The men typically wore worn-out padded jackets and either a neck warmer or a scarf, with only a pair of blank, expressionless eyes peeking through.

The women, ranging in age from twenty to thirty, were all dressed in the latest fashion trend of wearing leather jackets and knee-high boots. However, their heavily made-up faces bore a hint of resignation and fatigue.

Upon parking their bicycles, the women would glance at the men, tell them to pick them up at a designated time, and then walk into the ballroom with a complicated expression. The men, in turn, would retrace their steps and leave.

Across from the ballroom was a pool hall where a group of teens huddled shivering at the entrance, watching the scene across the street with sniggers and comments, "These guys really put up with a lot, their wives are inside dancing with strangers while they are responsible for the shuttle service."

The elderly man selling roasted sweet potatoes at the door gave the teens a sidelong glance, and sighed deeply, "What other choice do they have? They've been laid off and would starve if they didn't do this."

This was 1991, the year when an alarming number of lay-offs surged. Countless unskilled workers, who relied on factories for their living, were pushed into society with no safety net.

Those with skills could still scrape together a living, but many more found themselves without a source of income, struggling to survive.

Driven by desperation, many couples took up this path, relying on the wives to work in dance halls, bathhouses, and cabarets to make a living.

As most of the crowd surged to watch the spectacle, inside the pool hall, a young man was carefully checking his equipment.

Two bottles filled with an unidentified liquid, two lighters, a handmade nunchaku, and a plastic bag containing a damp towel were all spread out on a pool table.

The young man pursed his thin lips as he stowed the two bottles one by one into the pockets of his military coat, followed by the lighters, then picked up the nunchaku and walked out of the pool hall.

By the roadside, there stood an IC card phone booth.

"Hello, is this 110? There's a huge fight happening at the Country Garden Dance Hall near the People's Shopping Mall. Lives are at stake, and you need to get here quick!"

Without waiting for a response, the young man hung up and dialed another number.

"Is this the TV station? There's a case of self-immolation at the Country Garden Dance Hall near the People's Shopping Mall. Get down here ASAP!"

"Is this the newspaper...?"

"Is this the fire station? There's a fire started intentionally at the Country Garden Dance Hall near the People's Shopping Mall..."

"Is this 120...?"

After making a round of calls, the young man returned to the billiard room, standing at the front desk with his neck craned, glancing occasionally at the Dance Hall through the glass while watching TV.

The news was on the twelve-inch Toshiba color television.

With authoritative and resonant voices, Luo Jing and Li Ruiying, the male and female presenters, read the headlines.

"China's first nuclear power station, the Qinshan Nuclear Power Station, has successfully connected to the power grid and started generating electricity."

"The Nanpu Bridge in Shanghai, the largest in China and the second-largest cable-stayed bridge in the world, has been completed."

"Our chess player, Xie Jun, has become the Women's World Chess Champion, the first Asian to win this title."

In front of the Country Garden Dance Hall, things were heating up.

A series of luxury cars started arriving one after the other, leading with Tiger's head, Duke, Santana...

One after another, middle-aged men brimming with self-satisfaction alight from cars. Their trousers crease-free and shoes shining brightly. They convene their friends and enter the cabaret's large doors.

Meanwhile, husbands continuously ride bicycles, escorting their wives into this mouth-like gateway, akin to a monstrous beast.

The night is as dense as ink that refuses to spread.

When looking down at the hilly city at this time, a railway line divides the city into two. The eastern side is Daodong district where the elites reside, all gleaming lights and flamboyance. The western side is Daowest district, an area of worker housing engulfed in pitch-darkness.

A single railway line segregating two entirely different worlds.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times;

An era of wisdom, an era of foolishness;

A season of light, a season of darkness;

A spring of hope, and a winter of despair;

They had everything before them, they had nothing before them;

They were ascending heavenward, they were walking towards the gates of hell.

In the distance, sirens of different sounds started blasting.

The young man retracted his gaze, striding out of the pool hall, resolutely marching toward the cabaret.

At the main entrance, four hefty men stood as guards.

Even before the young man reached the bottom of the steps, jeers greeted him.

"Han Xiaodong, can't put your mind to rest about your wife, so you came here personally to check on her dance with the guest?"

"Haha, don't worry, your wife is now in the boss's office! After all, it’s her first day at work, Brother San might be performing a body check on her!"

"Han Xiaodong, what's the point of living like you do? You might as well die by hitting a block of tofu..."

Before the sentence was finished, a whistling sound emerged from the young man named Han Xiaodong's hands. From top to bottom, the nunchaku in his hands mercilessly struck on the speaker's chin.

Caught off guard while speaking joyfully, he immediately clamped his mouth shut, biting his tongue from the strike, covering his mouth in pain and groaning.

Without waiting for the other three to react, Han Xiaodong skillfully swung his nunchaku, accurately targeting and swiftly hitting the vital parts of the three men.

This sudden change shocked everyone who had been preparing to enter, screams of surprise echoing around.

As Han Xiaodong stepped across the threshold, four people lay behind him, wailing in pain.

"What happened?" A person ran out from inside.

Han Xiaodong tucked his nunchaku under his arm, pulled out a plastic bag, and took out a towel from within it. With a flick of a lighter, the towel soaked in alcohol was instantly ignited.

Ah!

The dancers standing on both sides of the corridor hurriedly retreated in fear.

Han Xiaodong used his nunchaku to lift the burning towel, pulling out a bottle filled with an unidentified liquid from his other hand. In a harsh tone, he warned the crowd rushing towards him: "Nobody move. I don't care if I die today, but you don't have to accompany Tian Dashan to the grave. Tell him to bring my wife out now. Otherwise, I'll set this place on fire."

He shook the bottle in his hand. "You all understand what's inside this. Now go call Tian Dashan!"

Whoo, whoo...

Police cars, fire trucks, ambulances, and news vans filled the dance hall's entrance, their lights flashing endlessly.

The current period was one of social unrest. Local authorities feared such incidents, hence the rapid response from all departments.

Countless eyes focused on the towering figure within the entrance. In the glow of the fire, the young man's lips were tightly sealed. The gaze coming from his delicate, peach blossom-like eyes was as cold as the night's temperature.

Upon recognizing his face, many of the accompanying dancehall ladies sighed inwardly.

Such a pity for this handsome guy. By offending Tian Dashan, how many lives do you think you have?