Chapter 77: Are You a Escort?**
Wu Yifan's ears pricked at the sound of Liu Wei's voice tangled in the commotion, and he couldn't help but shake his head with a half-amused sigh. That girl was a magnet for trouble—wherever she went, chaos seemed to follow like a shadow. He picked up his pace, curiosity and a vague sense of responsibility urging him forward. As he rounded the corner near the restrooms, the scene unfolding before him made him pause, his brows lifting in surprise.
A portly man with a red, bloated face—clearly drunk, given his unsteady stance—was being flanked by two muscular young men who looked like hired thugs. They'd cornered Liu Wei against the wall, their leers and crude remarks hanging thick in the air. A small crowd had gathered, murmuring among themselves, while a few hotel staff hovered awkwardly, unsure how to intervene. The air hummed with tension, like a fuse burning down to a powder keg.
"Dammit, your manager said there'd be no escorts here!" the fat man slurred, his beady eyes raking over Liu Wei with a hunger that made her skin crawl. "So where'd this little beauty pop out from? You think I'm not good enough for the real thing? Huh?" His words were thick with alcohol, each syllable dripping with arrogance. If it weren't for the onlookers, he'd likely have lunged at her already—his greedy gaze left no doubt about his intentions.
A hotel attendant, a nervous-looking young man in a crisp uniform, stepped forward, hands raised in a placating gesture. "Sir, please, this young lady is a guest of the hotel—"
"Guest? Bullshit!" the fat man interrupted, spitting a glob of saliva onto the polished floor. "I know this dump's game. A girl like her? All dolled up, walkin' around alone? She's either a escort or some rich guy's toy. C'mon, sweet thing," he added, turning back to Liu Wei with a slimy smile, "you know you want it. Spend an hour with me, and this"—he pulled out a fat wad of cash, fanning it in front of her face with a *snap, snap* of paper—"is all yours. Five grand. That's more than you make in a week, ain't it? And don't worry—I'm good. Last at least half an hour. Promise you'll be beggin' for more when I'm done."
Liu Wei's face had gone stone-cold. Her jaw tightened, and her hands curled into fists at her sides. *Escort? Toy?* She was Liu Qingyang's daughter, for God's sake—the Anti-Corruption Bureau chief's only child. To be reduced to this, to be spoken to like a piece of meat, made her blood boil. But instead of exploding immediately, a slow, eerie smile spread across her lips—a telltale sign that her patience had snapped, and violence was imminent.
The hotel attendant, who'd been warned only that "very important guests" were dining in the private room upstairs, knew better than to underestimate anyone coming from that suite. He tried once more to defuse the situation, his voice tight with urgency. "Sir, you're clearly intoxicated. Let me call someone to help you back to your table—"
"Help me? You think I need help, you little weasel?" the fat man roared, puffing out his chest. "I'll have you fired for this! Do you know who I am?"
The attendant sighed, stepping back. He'd done his part. If this fool wanted to dig his own grave, so be it. He'd seen enough powerful people pass through the hotel to know that the girl in front of him—calm, sharp-eyed, and unflinching—was not someone to cross.
"Beggin' for more, huh?" Liu Wei finally spoke, her voice low and dangerous. Before the fat man could react, she lifted her leg and drove her heel into his stomach with a force that belied her slender frame.
The man yelped, doubling over as if he'd been hit by a truck. His face turned purple, and he clutched his gut, hopping from foot to foot like a scalded cat. "You bitch! You *dare*? I'll—"
His threats were cut off as his two bodyguards moved in, their expressions hardening. They'd been paid to protect their boss, and now they lunged at Liu Wei, their movements quick and coordinated—clearly trained in some form of martial arts.
Panic flickered across Liu Wei's face. She was good at sneak attacks, at causing chaos with quick jabs and kicks, but these men meant business. Her eyes darted to the crowd, and there—leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking far too entertained—was Wu Yifan. "You! You dead man! Are you just gonna stand there and watch them kill me?!" she shrieked, her pride temporarily set aside in favor of survival.
Wu Yifan rolled his eyes. *Tough talk, but she's about to get her ass kicked.* Still, with her parents sitting just a few doors down, he couldn't very well let her get pummeled. He pushed through the onlookers, moving with a lazy confidence that masked his speed. He grabbed one bodyguard's arm mid-lunge, his grip like a vice. "C'mon, man—two on one? Against a girl? That's low even for goons like you. Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" With a sharp yank, he sent the man stumbling backward, crashing into a potted plant.
The second guard, seeing his partner taken down, swung a fist at Wu Yifan's jaw, his movements fueled by rage.
But Wu Yifan had grown up scrapping in back alleys—fights were as natural to him as breathing. He dodged the punch with a slight tilt of his head, then grabbed the man's wrist, twisting it sharply. Before the guard could react, Wu Yifan's free hand shot out, slapping him across the face with a *crack* that echoed down the hallway.
*Crack! Crack! Crack!*
He kept slapping, each blow harder than the last, until the guard's cheek swelled into a pulpy, purple mess. The man's eyes watered, and he whimpered, too stunned to fight back.
Liu Wei stared, wide-eyed. She'd seen Wu Yifan bicker, seen him eat like a starving animal, but she'd never seen this side of him—raw, unapologetic, and *dangerous*. There was a ruggedness to him in that moment, a primal strength that made her heart skip a beat.
Wu Yifan finally let go, stepping back with a grin. "Not bad. You've got a face built for slapping—soft, squishy. Must eat a lot of junk food."
"You… you bastard!" the guard sputtered, his voice cracking with humiliation.
The fat man, having finally caught his breath, saw his men getting dismantled and let out a howl of rage. "Useless! Both of you! I pay you to fight, not get your asses kicked! Tear him apart! Now!"
The two bodyguards, who'd bragged about their training in taekwondo and kickboxing, scrambled to their feet, their pride bruised worse than their bodies. But what they didn't realize was that the martial arts they'd learned were watered-down versions—flashy moves designed to impress, not to inflict real damage. The Koreans who'd taught them had held back the real techniques, leaving them with little more than party tricks.
Fueled by their boss's screams, they charged again, this time with more urgency. They launched high kicks, their legs slicing through the air with a faint *whoosh*, aiming for Wu Yifan's head.
"Pathetic," Wu Yifan muttered.
He moved like a snake, ducking under the first kick and grabbing the man's ankle. With a grunt, he hurled the guard into his partner, sending both crashing to the floor in a tangled heap. They rolled around, groaning, while the fat man stared, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.
"Dammit! You're all *useless*!" he shrieked, stomping his foot like a toddler. He had no idea—his men weren't weak. Wu Yifan's body moved on instinct, a leftover from a past he couldn't remember, but one that had clearly honed him into a fighter.
Liu Wei, recovered from her shock, looped her arm through Wu Yifan's, a wide smile on her face. "Who knew a lowly security guard could throw hands like that? You're my new bodyguard. Anytime someone bugs me, you deck 'em. Got it?"
"Someone bugs you? You're the one who starts half the fights in this city," Wu Yifan scoffed.
"Me? I'm a *lady*," she said, batting her eyes innocently. "A proper, delicate lady—"
Wu Yifan choked, coughing loudly. "Delicate? You? The girl who once broke a guy's nose for looking at her funny?"
Liu Wei pouted, planting her hands on her hips. "That was self-defense! He was being a creep!"
"Hey, what's the hold-up? And why are there two lumps on the floor lookin' like roadkill?"
A loud, brash voice cut through the crowd, making several onlookers jump. Song Mingjie sauntered over, his hands in his pockets, a lazy grin on his face. He'd snuck out after them, figuring Wu Yifan and Liu Wei might sneak off for some alone time (and hoping to catch a glimpse of the action). Instead, he'd stumbled onto a brawl.
"They tried to harass me, but Yifan took 'em out," Liu Wei said, nodding at the groaning men on the floor. "Disgusting pigs. I should complain to the manager. Ruining the hotel's reputation."
"Harass *you*?" Song Mingjie snickered, raising an eyebrow. "Damn, their taste is worse than I thought. You sure they weren't blind?"
Liu Wei's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothin'!" Song Mingjie said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "C'mon, let's bounce. The olds are probably wonderin' where we are. And I'm starving—those ribs aren't gonna eat themselves."
Wu Yifan nodded, casting one last glance at the fat man, who was still cursing weakly. The fight had drained him, and his threats now sounded more like whimpers.
As they walked back toward the private room, Liu Wei nudged Wu Yifan's arm. "Thanks. For earlier." Her voice was quieter, almost shy.
He raised an eyebrow. "No 'dead man'? No name-calling?"
"Shut up," she mumbled, but there was a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Song Mingjie, trailing behind them, snickered. "Ooh, look at you two. Get a room already!"
Liu Wei spun around, chasing after him down the hallway, yelling insults that would've made a sailor blush. Wu Yifan laughed, jogging to catch up, the sound of their bickering echoing through the hotel.
Trouble followed Liu Wei like a second shadow. But as Wu Yifan watched her chase Song Mingjie, her face flushed with laughter rather than rage, he thought—for the first time—that maybe trouble wasn't such a bad thing.
After all, life with her was never boring.