I saw a man being viciously attacked yesterday.
I had just left the apartment and was trying to hail a taxi when I heard people on the other side of the road shouting. I don’t know what the altercation was about, but two men were laying into another man ferociously. They swung roundhouses, one after the other, targeting his head. When he fell to the ground, one of the aggressors begin kicking and kneeing him, using roundhouses against the man like he was a kicking bag at a martial arts studio.
The entire time, a woman, perhaps the man’s girlfriend, was desperately grasping on to him and screaming for the two to stop.
The beaten man didn’t fight back. He just tried to cover his head, but it looked like his adversaries managed to land a lot of blows. Perhaps over one hundred. I was fearful that they were going to knock him unconscious, and that he might be seriously injured.
Towards the end, the beaten man managed to walk away, clearly dazed. I was surprised to see that there was little blood. His girlfriend was weeping as she embraced him.
A taxi had pulled up beside me to observe the pummeling. I got into the car and showed him the card which my friend had written out directions on in characters and pinyin. We didn’t talk about the fight.
How could we? All I could tell him was that I don’t speak Chinese.