Capturing the Young Doctor's Heart: Mr. Big Shot Won't Let Me Go-Chapter 54: Memories

The girl’s face was like a new moon, radiating a faint, serene glow. Her eyebrows and eyes reflected a jade-like clarity, her beauty captivating and unforgettable.

After a while, he finally recognized that he had seen this girl before on the main road. Originally, she just passed by quickly, and he hadn’t expected to recognize her again.

Step by step, the girl moved forward, her whole body pressed against the side of his car. She only stopped when there was just a door between them, her side face against his car window, and her youthful face was close, just a handful of centimeters away.

He didn’t disturb her, but quietly watched her to see what she intended to do.

A fight broke out ahead, with two people clashing against seven or eight others—entangled in struggle. After about five or six minutes, they used a strategy of capturing the leader first, knocking down a girl with dreadlocks onto the ground.

She seemed to twist her ankle, and the dreadlock-haired girl cried out loudly, cursing between sobs: "Zara, you damn bitch, you’re finished."

The brawl came to a halt; several people bore bruises, and their hair was as messy as that of shrews.

Zara surveyed the crowd, her gaze sharp as a knife: "Weren’t you saying that I have a contagious disease? Touch me again, and I’ll transmit it through my blood to you."

Upon hearing "contagious disease," the dreadlock-haired girl’s accomplices backed away in fear, glanced at each other, and eventually reached some consensus, leaving the dreadlock-haired girl behind.

Initially, they left running, but then, as though struck by some fright, they fled without looking back.

Only the three of them remained in the area; the dreadlock-haired girl sat on the ground, crying, cradling her left leg, tears and snot covering her face.

Zara sneered coldly: "Weren’t you the one who incited them to corner me? Why cry now, wimp."

"Bitch, just you wait," the dreadlock-haired girl said fiercely even when nearing defeat, right before receiving a kick.

At this moment, she was like fish on a chopping board, completely powerless to resist.

Zara frowned slightly, seemingly unwilling to let her go. Her gaze inadvertently caught sight of Claire standing by the car.

After some hesitation, she walked directly to Claire, "Claire, can you do me a favor? Her leg seems twisted; could you help set the bone back?"

Claire seemed confused, "Isn’t she your enemy?"

"She’s an enemy, but if she goes to the hospital for various checks to extort me for medical expenses, I definitely can’t afford it."

"Can’t afford it? Then you shouldn’t fight in the first place."

"It’s not up to me—they approached me first. Should I kneel and beg them not to hit me? The weaker you are, the easier you are to bully."

Claire furrowed her eyebrows and moved over, but as she squatted down, she nearly got slapped, luckily Zara intervened midway.

Zara warned: "If you dare touch her, I’ll kill you."

The dreadlock-haired girl screamed, "What the hell do you want with me?"

Claire frowned, saying: "So noisy."

Right after, Zara covered her mouth, causing the girl to struggle, her hands scratching out two blood marks on Claire’s arm.

Seeing this, Zara pinned her hands down too, "You looking to die?"

Claire calmly felt her ankle, gently twisting it, then suddenly applied pressure—only a crunching sound was heard; the dreadlock-haired girl’s muffled scream followed, and she swiftly set the bone back in place.

Seeing her adeptly release her grip, Zara was surprised: "Is it done?"

"It should be; let her get up and walk."

Zara cautiously said: "Hide behind me. Be careful not to get injured by her."

Claire got up and stood behind Zara, and Zara quickly let go of her.

The dreadlock-haired girl rotated her ankle, seemingly pain-free now, wiped her tears, stood up from the ground, and looked at them with eyes of disbelief.

Especially when she saw Claire’s face, she felt even more bewildered; she didn’t expect such a pure and pretty girl to side with Zara.

She probably felt it very humiliating to lose to Zara, but with her current lack of strength, she certainly couldn’t retaliate against Zara, so she glared coldly at them, turned around without a word, and left.

Thankfully, it was over.

Zara secretly exhaled a sigh of relief, "Thank you just now."

Claire replied indifferently: "Don’t mention it."

Seated at the driver’s seat, Keane watched them walking towards him.

He stopped watching the drama, buckled his seatbelt, prepared to start the car, but Claire suddenly stopped by his side, gazing at him through the car window.

The window was one-way tinted, despite her inability to see inside, her gaze carried a penetrating force, directly meeting his eyes.

At that time, he didn’t comprehend her gaze.

The two people behind her also couldn’t understand why she suddenly stopped.

He casually looked away, yet in the next moment, he saw her suddenly picking up a brick from the roadside.

Before anyone could react, Claire raised that brick and smashed it against his car front—in that instant, he saw the "Flying Goddess" car emblem break in her hand.

Zara, stunned, exclaimed incredulously: "Are you crazy?"

Her look seemed to say, why would you smash other people’s car for no reason?

Claire coldly dropped the brick and, as fast as the wind, dragged Zara away by the hand, fleeing from the scene like escaping trouble.

Keane stiffly watched through the rear-view mirror as the three figures ran off. His lips curled into an amused yet humorless smile.

Interesting...

Nobody could have predicted she would do this, but he instantly understood her motivation.

The only reason is that, just when she stopped, she realized an adult was inside the car, watching them fight without intervening.

That’s why she deliberately smashed his car.

Only that one reason explains her actions.

After they disappeared without a trace, he coldly stepped out of the car, stared at the toppled "Flying Goddess" emblem shaking precariously on the hood—there was also a slight dent.

He felt neither angry nor amused.

It was the first time a young girl had smashed his car right before him.

Her courage was greater than all of them, wilder, and even harder to deal with.

Later, two years after, by sheer coincidence, he encountered her again on the street near the No. 1 Middle School, and she picked him out, stuffing him a hundred bucks to pretend to be her parent and meet her class teacher.

By then, she had gained the early charm of adolescence; her face was still tender, innocent, and when asking for help, she maintained a completely professional demeanor, showing no fear of grown men.

...

As thoughts settled, he furrowed his brows.

After the emblem was fixed, he never drove this car again, unexpectedly, the first time out, it was damaged again, and it’s exactly the emblem that was harmed.

How could he not think about her?

...