Chapter 0027: A Body Full of Stories

Seeing Chen Liuhe's sleazy grin, Qin Ruohan smirked coldly, too lazy to clarify. She headed for the changing room without looking back. "If you've got the guts, don't leave—wait here."

As she closed the door, she added, "Don't even think about sneaking a peek. I know a locked door won't stop you. If you want to look, I won't stop you—not if you're fine with me crying, whining, and clinging to you for life."

Chen Liuhe rubbed his stubbled chin, a playful smile spreading across his face as the door shut. "Interesting chick."

With nothing better to do, he didn't leave. He didn't mind humoring Qin Ruohan for a bit.

Lighting a cigarette, he scanned the gym, then wandered over to a punching machine on a whim. It was a standard model—punch it, and it'd show the force in pounds.

Shaking out his right wrist, Chen Liuhe threw a casual fist. The thick rubber pad let out a furious thud, trembling as if hit by an unimaginable force.

On the machine's display, numbers flashed wildly, jumping like it was malfunctioning, unable to settle…

After a few seconds, the red digital readout stabilized on four digits.

1091!

Those simple numbers carried jaw-dropping weight. Chen Liuhe's punch clocked in at 1091 pounds—roughly a thousand jin, or half a ton!

Terrifying. That's the only word for it. An average adult's punch might hit a hundred-odd jin, two hundred tops for the rare few. Chen Liuhe's? Nearly a thousand.

No exaggeration—this punch could kill a man, or drop a wild buffalo flat.

Good thing the gym was empty. Anyone witnessing this would've been scared witless.

It was unthinkable—how could Chen Liuhe's less-than-brawny frame unleash such explosive power without even a running start? It defied science!

Glancing at the heart-stopping digits, Chen Liuhe shook his head breezily, sighing, "Cheap machines are cheap—didn't even go full strength, and it's already breaking down…"

That line could've given half the world a heart attack. Still, he was pleased with his conditioning. Even after a year of slacking, his strength hadn't slipped a bit.

He waited over half an hour. When Qin Ruohan emerged from the changing room, she was a different woman.

Gone was the yoga gear, replaced by a crisp professional outfit—a fitted blazer over a white lace-trimmed blouse, paired with black slacks that hugged her curves perfectly.

"No wonder so many guys drool over white- and gold-collar power women. This getup alone could spark a conquest itch," Chen Liuhe said, rubbing his nose with a grin. A faint fragrance wafted off her—she'd clearly showered.

"Let's go," Qin Ruohan said, tilting her chin at him with a hint of challenge.

Chen Liuhe spread his hands in a "your wish, my command" gesture and led the way out. Following close behind, Qin Ruohan's gaze drifted to the punching machine in the corner.

She froze, stunned beyond words, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. The glaring 1091 stared back at her.

She gaped at Chen Liuhe's retreating figure, and after a long moment, managed two shaky words: "Freak!"

Qin Ruohan's "playing ball" meant pool, not… whatever else.

Chen Liuhe felt a twinge of disappointment but perked up with interest. Standing by the table, he grinned at her. "This?"

"Scared?" Qin Ruohan taunted, itching to take him down a peg tonight. His cocky streak needed trimming, and pool was her ace.

"Pretty confident, huh?" Chen Liuhe chuckled.

"Not quite confidence, but handling you? More than enough," she said, chin up. She wouldn't admit she'd loved pool since childhood, had a natural knack for it, and even trained professionally for a spell. She'd won trophies in regional tournaments and competed nationally.

If she hadn't chosen academics over sports, she might've gone pro—maybe even become Yanhuang's pool queen.

Worried he'd back out, she mocked, "Don't tell me you can't play. A big guy like you wouldn't dodge a weak girl's challenge, right? If you're scared of losing, just say it—I won't judge."

"Crude provocation," Chen Liuhe said with a laugh, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I'll play, but I don't do bets without stakes."

"What do you want to wager?" Qin Ruohan smirked inwardly. Challenging her at pool with stakes? He was begging to crash and burn.

Chen Liuhe's gaze roamed her body oddly before he grinned slyly. "Since you're so eager, let's make it spicy—one loss, one piece off. How's that?"

"Fine. Your call. Just don't cry when you're streaking out of here," Qin Ruohan agreed without hesitation, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I can't wait to see you butt-naked."

"Haha, show me what you've got then," Chen Liuhe laughed.

They played Chinese 8-ball—Chen Liuhe wasn't big on snooker. Not that he couldn't; it just took too long. He liked the quick, straightforward vibe of 8-ball.

Qin Ruohan kicked off with a textbook break, sinking a ball. She kept the cue.

Chen Liuhe sat back, sipping coffee from a waiter, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You can spot a pro right away. From her grip to her stance as she bent over the table, Chen Liuhe knew she was damn good—probably pro-level. No wonder she oozed confidence.

Sure enough, his hunch was spot-on. Qin Ruohan's shots were crisp, balls dropping cleanly into pockets like she was clearing the table in one go. She nailed a few tricky shots too—pure brilliance.

Pool fans know watching a master's a treat, but Chen Liuhe, stuck in the game, didn't share that fanboy vibe. Nervous? Not a chance.

His eyes stayed glued to Qin Ruohan. Every time she leaned over, he didn't blink. Her technique might not be perfect, but her "pocket rate" was high—so he had to study closely.

"Tsk, she's got the goods," he mused, savoring the view.

Finally, a minor slip-up—a half-ball bounced off the pocket's edge. Qin Ruohan shrugged, tilting her chin at him. "Your turn."

She figured she'd already won. None of Chen Liuhe's seven balls were easy shots. She didn't buy he had some miracle skill to turn it around.

And she was right. Chen Liuhe flubbed his shot—the cue ball didn't even graze a solid, handing her a free ball.

He looked like he'd given up—no regret, no frustration—just plopped back in his seat.

Little did she know, his mind wasn't on the game. He just wanted her bending over more, still trying to figure out if the pattern on her pink bra was lotus flowers or orchids…

The first round ended predictably. Qin Ruohan cleared her half-balls and sank the black 8 with one shot.

She strutted like a victorious hen, head high, smirking at him.

Chen Liuhe shrugged casually, peeling off his sweatshirt. When his bare torso came into view, Qin Ruohan's smugness shattered into shock, her eyes wide with disbelief.

She swore she'd never seen a body so ravaged, so scarred.

His bronze skin was a map of wounds—countless jagged knife scars, some stomach-churning bullet holes. One stood out most: a mark near his heart's left side.

In that moment, Qin Ruohan was floored, frozen in place, her mind blank. She couldn't fathom what hell this man had crawled through to bear such a battered frame.

This guy… did he climb out of a demon's pit?

"Chen Liuhe, you…" Her voice trembled. "What have you been through?"