Chapter 4 — Daughter of the Martial Arts Dojo

When I arrived, Duan Lang was already pounding the punching bag. His short hair was neat, dressed in athletic wear, striking with the force of wind, his rhythm both swift and steady. Twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with sharply defined shoulders. He stopped, picking up a towel to wipe away his sweat.

I met you once when we were children, he said, at Uncle-Master Ji's martial arts school. You were holding a horse stance back then, holding it the entire afternoon. No laziness.

No need to hold it anymore.

He wiped the sweat from his hands with the towel, jerking his chin toward the training ring.

Get up there. Let me see how much Uncle-Master Ji taught you.

I stepped onto the ring. After exchanging three moves, his footwork proved remarkably light, his strikes decisive. I yielded half a move to him. He instantly halted, staring fixedly at me for two full seconds.

You yielded half a move to me just now.

You could tell?

It was very subtle. But I am not blind. The corner of his mouth curved upward slightly. Uncle-Master Ji's people truly march to a different beat.

Stepping out of the martial arts school, my phone rang. Jiang Linzhou. The ringtone sounded six times before I answered.

Ji Trininh. I want to talk to you.

What is there to talk about?

About what happened at the banquet. I did not know Lu Niansheng was that kind of person. My previous attitude toward you...

Mr. Jiang, I cut him off.

Your previous attitude toward her and your attitude toward me are one and the same.

When you found her displeasing, you gave her a chance to explain.

When you found me displeasing, you did not.

The other end of the line fell silent.

So you do not need to explain. You have simply discovered you are standing on the wrong side and wish to switch allegiances. I have no need for that.

I hung up, casually blocking his number. Lu Niansheng stood at the far end of the corridor. The glass of milk in her hand was gripped terrifyingly tight. Seeing me hang up, she turned and walked back to her room. The door closed very softly. Far too softly. That night, I passed by her bedroom door. She was making a phone call inside, her voice dropped to an extreme whisper, yet those trained in martial arts possess sharp ears.

Help me find a few people. They must have martial arts training.

A pause.

Not for teaching a lesson. No need to hold back.

I stood there for a moment. Then, returning to my room, I retrieved the recording pen from beneath my pillow. The battery was fully charged. Over the next few days, Lu Niansheng was unnaturally quiet. She no longer picked out food for me, stopped making phone calls in the corridor, and put on no performances during dinner. Whenever she crossed paths with me, she lowered her head and walked around me. One evening after dinner, Lu Nyanning asked me:

Why has she stopped pretending lately?

I do not know. But someone who stops pretending has either given up or is preparing for something much bigger.

Lu Nyanning did not reply. After heading upstairs, my phone lit up with a message from him.

Be careful on your own.

Returning from Duan Lang's martial arts school at ten o'clock at night. Outside the Lu family villa lay a narrow alley. The streetlamp had been broken for half a month. I walked to the mouth of the alley and stopped. Three men. Steady footsteps, deep breathing. They had trained. They were not ordinary street thugs. One blocked the entrance of the alley, while two emerged from the shadows. No one spoke. They had not come to intimidate; they had come to strike. The first man stepped forward and threw a straight punch. I sidestepped to avoid it, my left hand swatting away his leading arm while my right elbow slammed into his chest. He groaned, stumbling back two paces. The second man lunged from the left, wielding something. A cold glare flashed—a dagger. I retreated half a step; the blade grazed my sleeve. My right hand seized his wrist joint, twisting it backward. The dagger slipped from his grip, clattering loudly against the ground. My left hand delivered a punch to his ribs. He doubled over, dropping to his knees. The third man stood behind me. I spun around, but he had already closed the distance. A cold sensation grazed my arm—not a dagger, but a utility blade wedged between his fingers. It was not deep, but blood streamed down my arm. Using my right hand, I blocked his descending fist, while my left hand clamped around his throat, pinning him against the alley wall.

Who sent you?

He stayed silent. I tightened my fingers.

Someone from the Lu family. Paid fifty thousand. Said no need to hold back, cripple her and there is bonus money.

I released him and took out my phone. Instead of calling the police, I dialed Han Haidong.

Senior Brother. Three men intercepted me outside the Lu family gates. They are down. Help me handle it.

Han Haidong's men arrived within fifteen minutes. The three men were dragged into the Lu family living room. Lu Thuong Vien wore a coat draped over his pajamas, To Uyen Thanh clutched her phone tightly, and Lu Nyanning descended from the third floor, his hair unbraided. In the living room, the three men squatted before the coffee table while Han Haidong's men guarded the entrance. The butler had called the police. One of the men confessed rapidly, revealing the Lu family member who had paid them fifty thousand.

She said no need to hold back, he repeated. Cripple her and there is bonus money.

Lu Nyanning stood at the threshold of the stairs, hair unbraided. He looked at the three men: one cradling his chest, one with a broken wrist, another bearing red strangulation marks on his neck. Then he turned his gaze to Lu Niansheng.

The person you found, his voice was very soft. The person you found made her bleed.

Lu Niansheng refused to meet his eyes.

Look at me, his voice rose half a tone. Do you only know how to cry? Are you the only one most afraid of pain? When you hired people to beat her, did you ever consider that she feels pain too?

The corner of Lu Niansheng's mouth twitched slightly. She said nothing. The recording pen had captured everything. Lu Thuong Vien stared at Lu Niansheng for a long, heavy moment.

Why?