Chapter 4

Others joined in, laughing and egging him on.

There was no way he was taking his shirt off. Nie Jun just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Coming!” Xiao Lang warned.

The warning was unnecessary. Nie Jun was in a rush—he didn’t want to waste a single extra second here, only to finish the match fast.

Xiao Lang charged at him with fierce aggression, but instead of dodging, Nie Jun met him head-on. He tilted his head to evade a strike while grabbing Xiao Lang’s arm, spun around, and landed a clean flying kick.

The move was both lightning-fast and perfectly controlled. Xiao Lang hadn’t expected such an immediate full-force attack. He barely blocked in time, suddenly sobering up and taking it seriously.

Two minutes. Not even a full two minutes.

Nie Jun locked Xiao Lang’s back, forcing him down with a knee, pinning him hard to the ground.

Xiao Lang tried to rise but couldn’t even turn his head, eventually slapping the grass forcefully.

That was the gesture for surrender.

Nie Jun released him, stood still for a few seconds, then quickly left the field and returned to stand beside Hai Ming.

“Twenty thousand yuan on the line,” Hai Ming muttered, sighing under his breath. “You finished it too fast. You should’ve made it look like a show, at least let the boss’s fiancée feel the money was worth it!”

The term “boss’s fiancée” made Nie Jun’s fingers curl slightly.

“I don’t mind not getting the money,” he said.

Hai Ming: “…Aren’t you short on cash?”

Nie Jun paused, then nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

Xiao Lang took a moment to recover, then climbed to his feet, holding his arm as he walked back to Ao Qingqing’s side.

The defeat had been too swift and clean, making Ao Qingqing feel a little embarrassed.

The arena went quiet for a moment before Ao Qingqing pursed her lips and said to Nie Jun, “One more round.”

Nie Jun glanced at Kong Wenyu.

Kong Wenyu sat calmly not far away, his neck resting back in a relaxed position while his shoulders remained perfectly straight. His hair was tied back, revealing the pale, clean skin behind his ear.

Ao Qingqing added, “Let the same guy fight again. I’ll switch opponents.”

She waved, and Nie Jun saw a short but heavily muscled bodyguard heading toward them. The man was shirtless, his expression sharp and menacing.

Hai Ming nudged Nie Jun’s arm and whispered with a frown, “I’ve heard of him. ‘Bite.’ He’s strong.”

‘Bite’—now that name sounds a lot more serious than some soft and fluffy ‘Xiao Lang.’

Nie Jun was about to say he wasn’t going to fight when Hai Ming, still overly optimistic, added, “But compared to you, he’s probably still a bit weaker.”

Nie Jun glanced again at Kong Wenyu’s back. Kong Wenyu didn’t turn around; he simply raised a hand and casually waved it backward.

Nie Jun had no choice but to step onto the field again.

“People work to make money,” Hai Ming repeated softly behind him, reminding him, “Don’t overthink it—take this fight slow.”

Nie Jun stepped into the open space, locking eyes with his opponent.

Hai Ming then called out loudly, “Miss Ao, is there a reward if he wins this round?”

Ao Qingqing was about to answer when Kong Wenyu cleared his throat and interrupted, “One hundred thousand.”

Nie Jun’s hand, hanging by his side, brushed against the black swan cufflink in his pocket. His peripheral vision flicked briefly toward it, but he didn’t turn around.

“Bite” glared at him with feral intensity. The fight hadn’t even started, yet his body was already trembling slightly—a clear sign of an adrenaline surge.

Men like him could be formidable because they didn’t care about consequences.

With a low growl, Bite lunged forward. Nie Jun dodged the first attack, caught his shoulder in a sidestep, and twisted hard. The man’s muscles were as solid as iron. A sweeping kick grazed Nie Jun’s waist, but he countered with a sharp kick to Bite’s thigh, forcing him back to his starting point.

Bite didn’t pause for even half a second before spinning around to launch a flurry of heavy punches.

Earlier, Xiao Lang’s strikes still had some flourish to them—almost ornamental. Bite’s were the complete opposite: fast, ruthless, each one aimed to draw blood. Nie Jun had no choice but to block and deflect repeatedly.

Ao Qingqing stood up, her sharp eyes fixed intently on the match. When Bite’s leg swept across Nie Jun’s back, she called out, delighted, “Good! Another hundred thousand!”

Bite’s eyes were nearly bloodshot now.

Nie Jun braced himself, meeting Bite’s hardened leg muscles midair. The collision produced a dull, heavy sound before he landed, face unreadable.

At that moment, from the corner of his eye, Nie Jun noticed Hai Ming shift under the shaded canopy. He glanced over to see Hai Ming make a subtle motion—tilting his chin toward Kong Wenyu’s direction, then shaking his head slightly.

Nie Jun quickly swept his gaze toward Kong Wenyu. The man was watching him silently, his eyes cool like jade steeped in cold water—calm and unclouded, untouched by any trace of heat despite the recent physical exertion.

A staff member handed Kong Wenyu a glass of iced water. He took a sip, frowned as if dissatisfied, and poured out the water, leaving only the transparent ice cubes in the glass.

He held the glass with one hand, sliding his index finger inside to touch the top cube, rubbing its edge until it became smooth and glistening.

The sight made Nie Jun’s body feel uncomfortably hot. He quickly looked away.

Hai Ming’s intention was obvious: Ao Qingqing clearly had her competitive streak triggered. As Kong Wenyu’s fiancée, if Kong Wenyu himself hadn’t expressed any opinion, it was best not to stir trouble.

Offending the boss’s fiancée would bring no benefit.

Hai Ming wanted Nie Jun to lose this match.

Meanwhile, Bite launched another fierce attack, aiming for Nie Jun’s lower body—a common weak point for taller fighters.

But Nie Jun stayed steady. The fight had dragged on long enough; Bite was already panting heavily, though his eyes remained vicious.

In close combat, bumps and bruises were inevitable. Long fights demanded stamina and perfect timing. Nie Jun shifted from pure defense to counterattacking.

As he spun, the bubble-wrapped black swan cufflink slipped out of his pocket and fell to the ground.

Nie Jun immediately reached for it. Bite seized the opportunity, grabbing his back and driving a knee upward. Nie Jun twisted to block the hit, snatched the item, and shoved it back into his pocket.

Bite’s lips curled into a cold, predatory smile, as if he had just found Nie Jun’s weakness.

“…” Nie Jun glanced sideways at Kong Wenyu. The man was still seated calmly, one hand propping up his chin, the other idly playing with the ice cubes.

He seemed perfectly content with the chill, even though his fingertips were turning pale from the cold. He kept tracing the half-melted cube’s softened edge, entirely at ease.

He showed no reaction. He wasn’t staring at the pocket like Bite was; he didn’t even look curious.

Nie Jun exhaled in quiet relief.

His fingers tightened. Now more relaxed than before, he tilted his head slightly and fixed his gaze squarely on Bite.

“Hurt, huh? Come here—I’ll help you with the ointment,” Hai Ming said as he stepped inside, stopping by the doorway of the duty lounge to look at him.

The wounds on Nie Jun’s back were hard to reach. He handed over the medicine, sat on a chair with his back turned, and said, “Thanks.”

Hai Ming squeezed some ointment out and sucked in a sharp breath.

“That bastard really hit hard,” he muttered, carefully applying the cream over the bruised and mottled skin. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Why didn’t you just knock his teeth out?”

Nie Jun didn’t have time to answer before Hai Ming continued, “You were worried about upsetting the boss’s fiancée, right? Makes sense. If it were me, I’d have probably thrown the fight on purpose.”

Nie Jun stayed silent.

Hai Ming sighed again. “What’s in your pocket that’s so precious?”

“Don’t tell me it’s a gift for your girlfriend?” he teased. “Never heard you mention one before. What is it?”

Nie Jun wasn’t good at lying—

—but he was good at staying quiet.

Hai Ming was about to say more when the secretary came in, holding a phone.

Noticing him, Secretary Ling glanced at Nie Jun’s injured back. “Are you okay, Jun-ge? Do you need to take a few days off?”

“No need,” Nie Jun replied.

Hai Ming let out a sigh. “So stubborn.”

After a brief pause, the secretary said, “The boss wants to see you—in ten minutes.”

“…”

The exact same phrasing as last time caught Nie Jun off guard. His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Go,” Hai Ming urged. “Be late, and what’s supposed to be a good thing might turn bad.”

Nie Jun gave him a look, then responded quietly, “Okay.” He thanked him and followed Secretary Ling out.

On the steps to the main building, Ling glanced around to make sure no one was nearby before saying with genuine admiration, “That was impressive—beating Bite. He’s one of the Ao family’s top-paid bodyguards, assigned specifically to protect their young miss.”

Nie Jun stayed modest. “Just lucky.” Then he asked, “The boss wants to see me because I beat Miss Ao’s bodyguard, right? Am I getting punished?”

“I’m not sure,” Ling admitted, then added reassuringly, “But hey, with that prize money, you can probably pay off your mortgage early.”

Nie Jun paused. As they neared the study door, he asked, “Was it him who told you to investigate me?”

Ling blinked. “Yeah… Every bodyguard gets a background check before hiring.”

Nie Jun said nothing more.

Ling unlocked the study door with his fingerprint. Just like last time, he pushed open one of the bookshelves.

Nie Jun didn’t linger. He stepped inside, closed the door, adjusted to the dimness, and was about to turn on the light when he heard Kong Wenyu’s voice not far away:

“Leave the lights off.”

Nie Jun lowered his hand and walked toward the sound.

The big screen was still playing the same movie from that morning. Judging by the progress bar, Kong Wenyu hadn’t continued watching since Nie Jun left.

Kong Wenyu pressed the pause button and set the remote on the armrest.

He had already changed out of his riding clothes, now wearing a loose robe. Damp strands of hair hung near his collar.

Nie Jun remembered the piece of ice Kong Wenyu had been toying with at the racetrack.

Now, that pair of long, pale hands rested on the armrest, the wrist bent just enough to make the proportions look even more elegant—like an award-winning sculpture.

Nie Jun’s own hand twitched slightly at his side just as Kong Wenyu asked,

“You won the fight. What kind of reward do you want?”

“The prize money is enough,” Nie Jun replied.

“Money’s all you want?”

Nie Jun’s throat bobbed once. “It’s enough.”

Kong Wenyu’s eyes lingered, carrying an unreadable weight as they rested on Nie Jun’s face, where the corner of his mouth still bore a bluish bruise.

Nie Jun pressed his lips together.

“Not bad,” Kong Wenyu said casually. Then he tilted his chin slightly. “Take off your shirt and turn around.”

“…” Nie Jun stood still.

Kong Wenyu leaned back against the chair, one hand propped on the armrest. Tilting his head slightly, he looked at Nie Jun—neither too close nor too distant.

“My memory isn’t great,” he said lazily. “What’s the third rule in the bodyguard code?”

At the racetrack, no amount of teasing had rattled Nie Jun, but now, after just a brief hesitation, he lifted his hands and pulled his shirt off.

Kong Wenyu didn’t move. He merely raised one hand slightly, his cold fingertip making a small circular motion in the air.

Nie Jun, holding his shirt, turned his back toward him.

Kong Wenyu studied the mottled bruises on his back. Apparently, having to look up at someone didn’t sit well with him, because he said, “Can’t see clearly—come over to the light.”

Nie Jun hesitated, then stepped back two paces, leaving about a meter between them.

He was tall—broad shoulders, long legs—and without his shirt, every muscle was sharply defined.

To see clearly from that distance, Kong Wenyu would have to tilt his head all the way back.

Kong Wenyu clicked his tongue.

Catching it in his peripheral vision, Nie Jun instinctively lowered himself, turning his back and kneeling on the carpet in front of him.

Without a shirt, he looked even more solid. The smooth sweep of his lat muscles seemed as if they’d been shaped deliberately by a sculptor’s hand.

Kong Wenyu’s eyebrows lifted slightly. His gaze skimmed over the injuries on Nie Jun’s back, then slowed, settling not on the bruises but on the shadowed outline of his profile.

He stared, motionless, until Nie Jun turned his head to the side.

Kong Wenyu cleared his throat and asked, his voice unchanged, “In the bodyguard regulations, is there a rule that says you’re not allowed to move without permission?”

Nie Jun kept his head slightly lowered—just enough to be subtle.

It didn’t exactly look obedient, nor fully submissive. If one had to label it, “yielding” might be the closest word.

“There’s no such rule,” Nie Jun said.

“There will be soon,” Kong Wenyu replied.