Chapter 2: You Should Just Admit Defeat

"Uncle, should we keep going?" Xin Wen asked casually, lacing his fingers behind his head.

Instead of the embarrassed rage everyone expected, he wore a relaxed smirk, lazily reclining in his chair. His tone was politely inquisitive, but the mocking glint in his eyes didn't fool anyone.

"Ah… well, A-Wen," his uncle stammered, wiping sweat from his brow. "I believe thorough evaluations are best. You're hiring a bodyguard, after all, so—"

"—so let's test her combat skills," Xin Wen finished, snapping his fingers sharply. His polite smile didn't reach his eyes. "Fine, Uncle's wish is my command. Miss Lan, you're up."

Xin Wen paused dramatically, letting the silence hang until every eye focused on him. Then he exhaled slowly, adding casually, "Let's hope your professional skills aren't quite so… unique."

Nervous titters rippled through the room, grateful for the tension relief. Lan Nian nodded calmly, acknowledging the panel with a cool glance before stepping into the center of the conference room. She stood tall and composed, her posture radiating quiet warrior energy.

Xin Wen's sharp brows lifted slightly. Against his will, anticipation flickered in his chest.

Lan Nian began her demonstration. Despite her delicate appearance, her movements were fluid, almost theatrical—sharp, confident, and startlingly powerful. The grace of a ballerina collided with the force of a martial artist in a seamless blend.

Every punch and kick landed with precise rhythm, slicing through the air with audible whooshes.

Xin Wen leaned forward again, squinting as he tried to pinpoint the origin of her striking technique. Where had she learned that?

Suddenly, an unknown object hurtled toward his face with brutal force—a faint murderous intent lingering in its trajectory.

Xin Wen gasped, ducking instinctively. But it was a split second too late. Crack! The hard projectile slammed into his temple.

A sharp, searing pain erupted, blotting out all other senses.

Ambush? Assassination? Murder? The words flashed through his mind as his left hand touched something warm and sticky on his forehead.

"Mr. Xin, you're bleeding!" someone shrieked.

Others screamed in panic, but Xin Wen ignored them, his heart still racing. He stared at the object lying on the floor—a small, weighted throwing star.

His eyes locked onto the "murder weapon" lying on the floor—a women's sneaker.

All heads whipped toward Lan Nian's feet. Her left foot, now bare, stood out starkly against the polished floor, the white cotton sock stubbornly proud.

"Care to explain that?" Xin Wen gestured to her bare left foot, frustration tinged with reluctant amusement.

"Miscalculation," Lan Nian replied defiantly, her infuriatingly calm expression unchanged.

But he caught the flicker of triumph in her eyes—a silent challenge: You're outmatched, pretty boy.

Instead of anger, Xin Wen smiled faintly. Fate, perhaps? After such a memorable introduction, hiring her felt inevitable. Especially since that strange pull he felt toward her only grew stronger.

Whether they'd crossed paths before or not, their fates were now intertwined.

"Uncle," he said abruptly, pressing an alcohol pad to his still-bleeding temple. "She's hired."

"What?" While others gaped in shock, the flicker of confusion in Lan Nian's dainty eyes faded significantly.

But only she knew how hard she fought to keep her churning emotions from spilling over.

"Reason?" Lan Nian didn't bother hiding her reluctance.

"Reason?" Xin Wen smirked, finally seeing a crack in her icy facade. It had been worth the headache.

Staring into her guarded eyes, he spoke surprisingly softly:

"After such a memorable gift, how could I let you leave disappointed?" His tone turned playful. "Convincing enough?"

Plus, no one gets away with calling me stupid. His gaze challenged: Ready to concede yet?

Lan Nian's cheeks flushed faintly. She met his predatory stare with a scoff, refusing to speak.

Outside, sunlight streamed through the windows, as if the day itself awaited the drama to unfold.