Volume One, Chapter 19: A Change of Perspective

Coming back to their senses, everyone present was bewildered. They hadn’t seen what had happened; all they saw was Chen Shu lying in a pool of blood, and Wu Wei squinting as he moved forward to check. There was no other reason—Chen Shu died horribly, and they had fired a few extra shots just to be sure.

Wu Wei gripped his communicator and said, “Mission complete. The criminal is dead.”

While dealing with the corpse, Su Yike hurriedly circled around Jiang Chen, sizing him up. Only when she saw that he was unhurt did she breathe a sigh of relief.

“What are you staring at? Is there a flower on my face?” Jiang Chen asked with a smile.

Su Yike scoffed, “I just wanted to see if you were dead or faking it. Even a C4 couldn’t kill you—I doubt you’re human.”

“Why are you insulting me?”

“Who’s insulting you? I’m complimenting you!”

“I don’t have time to argue. I have work tomorrow, so I’m heading home.” Jiang Chen brushed past her, just as Ning Rou hobbled down from upstairs.

Ning Rou's eyes were swollen and red, with tear stains marking the sides of her nose. Jiang Chen felt a warmth in his heart; his little wife did have some conscience—it hadn’t been for nothing, saving her.

“Can you walk?” Jiang Chen asked.

Ning Rou knew her own condition. She was shaken by the blast, but her legs were fine. Yet, when Jiang Chen asked, she replied against her own judgment, “I... I can’t walk anymore.”

“You can’t? That can’t be right.” Jiang Chen reached down along Ning Rou’s leg. She was wearing black stockings, smooth to the touch.

Ning Rou blushed, “What are you doing...”

Jiang Chen withdrew his hand after a couple of touches. “What else? Just checking to see where you’re hurt.”

Ning Rou refused to look at him, stubbornly saying, “Hurt is hurt. I can’t walk. Help me call a cab.”

“A cab?”

Jiang Chen slid his arm under Ning Rou’s slender thighs, lifting her up. Panicked, Ning Rou clung to Jiang Chen’s neck for fear of falling.

“This way, there’s no need for a cab.” Jiang Chen grinned.

Already shy, Ning Rou was now even more embarrassed. She could only endure it, not daring to move, for she realized Jiang Chen’s hands were far from gentlemanly, caressing her thigh back and forth. The movements were small, but unmistakably mischievous.

When the two left the chemical factory, Jiang Chen ultimately hailed a cab. The taxi driver glanced at them, shaking his head quietly.

“Young people these days, really something,” he muttered. Both Jiang Chen and Ning Rou caught his words.

Only then did Ning Rou realize she was still in Jiang Chen’s arms. Awkwardly, she said, “Um... could you put me down?”

Jiang Chen replied, “Oh, sure.”

Ning Rou sat beside him, straightened her clothes, and the flush on her face slowly faded.

“Tomorrow... don’t stay in the dorm. My house has a few empty rooms. We can go to work together,” Ning Rou said.

She hardly noticed that, as she spoke to Jiang Chen, she had referred to her place as "home," as if it belonged to both of them. It seemed an offhand remark, but even she didn’t realize that after all that had happened, her view of Jiang Chen had changed.

Outside the window, the scenery receded as the car sped on. Ning Rou gazed out and asked, “That man... was he really human?”

Curious, Jiang Chen drew a talisman in the air and gently tapped the dashboard.

“The driver can’t hear us now. You can ask whatever you want,” Jiang Chen soothed.

Ning Rou whispered, “Was he a superhuman? Are you one too?”

Jiang Chen explained, “No. He was a cultivator, but not a pure one. He took a crooked path. As for me, I’m stronger than him, but not the same.”

Ning Rou pressed, “Not the same? How so?”

Jiang Chen scratched his head. “You’ll know in time.”

Ning Rou snorted softly, adopting the airs of a coy woman. “If you won’t tell me, I won’t ask. Don’t say it—I don’t want to hear.”

Back at the villa district, Jiang Chen glanced at the rooms, secretly relieved he’d arrived in time. Otherwise, not only would he have failed to save Ning Rou, he wouldn’t have been able to move in.

In the villa, Jiang Chen ate two apples while Ning Rou, freshly bathed, emerged.

“I’ve already had your things brought back, but... you can’t let anyone know you’re living here,” Ning Rou remembered she’d just offered to let Jiang Chen ride with her to work.

Jiang Chen said nothing, only nodded.

Inside the factory, after the cleanup, a man standing in the shadows quietly shook his head.

“Sigh, youth so easily spoils things. Nothing could be truer,” the shadowy figure murmured, his expression unreadable. “But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all.”

The man faded into the shadows, vanishing.

At the scene, Su Yike felt as if someone was watching her. She surveyed the area, but saw no one.

Liu Chongming, who was examining the site, walked over. “Su, want to have dinner tonight? I got two movie tickets—a comedy by Jia Teng. Do you have time?”

Su Yike took off her white gloves. “I have time.”

Liu Chongming rubbed his hands. “So, when should we go?”

Su Yike frowned, “I said I have time, not that I’d go with you. Liu Chongming, there’s no possibility between us. I’m not interested. Try pursuing someone else.”

Liu Chongming swallowed his words, lowered his head, and said nothing more, his heart full of bitterness.

...

The next morning, Jiang Chen awoke in the large bed. At five, he dressed, went downstairs, glanced at Ning Rou’s room, then slipped into the kitchen.

At seven, Ning Rou came out of her room—not woken naturally, but by the aroma of breakfast.

She trotted downstairs and peeked in from the door, seeing Jiang Chen in a pink apron, cooking.

“You can cook?” Ning Rou wore a long nightgown, but no matter how long it was, her fair, tender legs were still exposed.

Jiang Chen glanced at her legs, cleared his throat, and said, “A bit, I suppose. Go wash up—breakfast will be ready soon.”

Ning Rou nodded. She hadn’t thought Jiang Chen could cook, and if he could, she’d expected only simple home dishes. Yet, when the meal was served, she realized she was mistaken. Jiang Chen had prepared an impressive spread: Western and Chinese dishes, eight in total.

Every ingredient from the fridge, whether main or side, Jiang Chen had made into something wonderful.

Last night, Ning Rou had worried that by letting Jiang Chen move in, if he harbored any ulterior motives, given the power he’d shown, resistance would be futile. But now she realized she knew far too little about Jiang Chen—far, far too little.

After breakfast, Ning Rou, who usually ate lightly to keep her figure, let herself eat her fill for the first time.

Satisfied, she said, “There’s a gala tonight. Come with me, won’t you?”