Wait for me to come over

After a full day and night, the unusually heavy winter snow finally came to an end.

The world sprang back into action once more.

Snowplows and snow-clearing crews worked in unison to keep the city running smoothly. Even staff from neighborhood offices had no choice but to don little red vests, hoisting plastic snow shovels as they half-playfully, half-diligently cleared the streets.

Tang Manman, who had just finished delivering clothes to her mother, stepped onto the thinly cleared snow. She walked absentmindedly, not even sparing a glance at the exquisitely crafted snowmen lining the sidewalks.

As she walked, she suddenly paused, sensing something. Her gaze landed on a small tattoo parlor by the street. Pressing her soft pink lips together, a flicker of hesitation flashed in her eyes...

...

On the couch inside, a white-haired boy studied the colorful tattoo designs covering the walls, stroking his chin as he struggled to make a decision.

Should he get a dragon?

Or maybe a tiger?

Hell, why not go for a full sleeve? Come summer, flexing that would be downright badass.

He turned to ask the tattoo artist for a quote, but when the answer came close to four digits, White Hair quickly reconsidered.

Swiveling back to the wall, his budget now painfully clear, he redirected his attention to the smaller, more affordable designs.

Just as he agonized over what to ink onto his skin, a cold draft swept into the cozy shop—someone else had walked in.

Too absorbed in his selection, White Hair ignored the newcomer, still fixated on the wall, determined not to rush his choice.

That is, until a soft, timid voice broke the silence.

"How much does a tattoo cost here?"

At the sound of that sweet, delicate voice, White Hair’s eyes instantly lit up, his focus abruptly shifting.

It was like spotting a stunning girl in a gaming café mid-rank-up match. Even if it’s the most crucial promotion game of your life, the second your peripheral vision catches a glimpse of a long, pale, perfectly sculpted leg—you know you’re going to look.

You have to see who that leg belongs to.

That’s worth risking the entire match for.

You can always climb ranks again, but that girl? Once she’s gone, she’s gone.

That was White Hair’s mindset right now. Hearing that soft, sugary voice—one no unattractive girl could possibly produce—he abandoned the tattoo designs entirely, whipping his head toward the source.

Wow.

A total babe—

For a split second, White Hair was stunned by the girl’s ethereal beauty. But in the next moment, his expression froze, then collapsed into sheer, jaw-dropping shock.

He looked like a college kid on his first trip to a massage parlor, only to find his lifelong, salt-of-the-earth father lounging in the VIP room.

How is it HER?

Meanwhile, the tattoo artist, lazily scrolling through his phone on his chair, snapped to attention the second Tang Manman walked in. His eyes gleamed brighter than White Hair’s had at the sight of those full-sleeve designs.

As a tattoo artist, he’d seen his fair share of rebellious girls and delinquent types—some he’d even gotten very familiar with. But this? A pure, angelic beauty like her wanting ink? That was a first.

He eagerly rushed forward to greet her.

Looking at the fragile young girl, his eyes were brimming with excitement.

When it came to things like tattoos, a bit of physical contact was completely normal.

And if the tattoo was in a more private area—well, that would be an endless feast for the eyes, with plenty of opportunities for "accidental" touches!

"Hey beautiful, tattoos come at all kinds of prices. What are you looking to get?"

"Where do you want it?"

The man rubbed his hands together, unable to suppress the grin on his face.

"I... I want it on my arm..."

Tang Manman spoke timidly, yet she didn’t back away. Instead, she mustered her courage and answered.

"Ah, the arm."

"Sure, that works."

"What design are you thinking?"

A flicker of disappointment crossed the man’s face, but he quickly adjusted—after all, money was money.

"I want..."

Before Tang Manman could finish, White Hair, who had been silently watching from the couch, suddenly shouted and stood up.

"Hold on!"

Both the tattoo artist and Tang Manman were startled by the outburst, their faces flashing with confusion as they turned to look at him.

Ignoring the tattoo artist’s annoyed glare, White Hair stared at Tang Manman in disbelief.

"Long—er, Tang... Tang Manman."

"You’re getting a tattoo?!"

Tang Manman’s expression shifted between unease at being recognized and a hint of fear, but surprisingly, she didn’t retreat. Instead, she pressed her lips together and gave a small, firm nod.

"What? No, how can you get a tattoo?"

White Hair couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why would the school’s model student do something like this?

"I..."

Tang Manman stammered, unable to explain.

Meanwhile, the tattoo artist grew impatient. Seeing his business about to slip away, he put on a fierce expression and snapped,

"What’s it to you whether she gets a tattoo or not?"

"None of my business? Maybe, but it’s my boss’s business!"

White Hair shot back without backing down.

"You know who my boss is?"

"Say his name and I swear it’ll scare the hell out of you!"

With that, he pulled out his phone with one hand and pointed at the tattoo artist with the other, full of bravado.

"Listen up—you’re not tattooing her today. If you do, my boss will come down here and smash this dump of yours to pieces!"

He dialed a number and held the phone to his ear.

As the dial tone droned on, White Hair’s confidence wavered slightly.

After all, Brother Long had made it clear before—he had nothing to do with Tang Manman, and he didn’t want people spreading rumors at school.

If he reported this and Brother Long just said, "Whatever," wouldn’t he look like an idiot for meddling?

After what felt like an eternity, the call finally connected. A groggy "Yeah?" came through the speaker.

White Hair lowered his voice.

"Brother Long, I’m at a tattoo parlor... and I just saw Tang Manman. She says she’s getting a tattoo..."

"Tang Manman?"

"A tattoo?"

"You kidding me?"

The lazy scoff from the other end made White Hair grimace.

"It’s true," he insisted carefully.

A long silence followed. Then, after what seemed like forever, a deep, serious voice finally responded:

"You’re absolutely sure this isn’t a joke, right?"

"Positive," White Hair confirmed.

"Address!"

The voice on the phone suddenly shifted tone, like a volcano on the verge of eruption, carrying an overwhelming pressure that brooked no defiance.

White Hair promptly rattled off the location.

"Don’t let anyone give Tang Manman a tattoo!"

"And don’t let her leave!"

"Wait for me to get there!"

The voice was urgent yet slightly strained, accompanied by background noise—as if the person on the other end was hurriedly pulling on clothes.

"Got it!"

"Don’t worry, Brother Long!"

"I’ll make sure Tang Manman stays put till you arrive!"

With his orders clear, White Hair shed his earlier unease and answered loudly.