Living alone with minimal cooking experience, I still fancied myself a culinary genius. Even instant noodles transformed under my hands—elevated by humble ingredients.
Beef strips marinated in salt and rice wine, later dusted with starch. Scallions, peppercorns, and ginger fried until fragrant, then glazed with oyster sauce before adding the beef. A splash of water, ten minutes simmered into thick gravy.
The true star? Instant noodles—blanched, chilled, then tossed in the rich sauce with greens. A final sprinkle of scallions, garlic, and spices. *Perfection.* Pity I had no chili.
When Ouyang Jiyu eyed the two plates, her frown froze my blood. *Does she hate noodles? I'm dead.*
Memories flashed—sunset runs, lost youth... I braced for the end.
"It smells wonderful. Thank you." She took a plate. *She knows gratitude?*
*Whatever. If I die, I die full.*
As I reached for chopsticks, hers snapped against mine. She slid my plate to her side.
*Two portions? Bully! Even rabbits bite when—*
Then she picked every green from my noodles into her bowl... and gave me all her beef. *Why the kindness?*
Staring at the segregated plates—greens for her, meat for me—dread coiled in my gut. *Is this... deathbed compassion? Grandpa, I'm coming... though I never knew your face.*
"I don't eat meat," she stated flatly, nibbling a leaf. *Liar. You don't look herbivorous.*
Silence swallowed the room after the meal. My phone—still lifeless. Tremors shook me as mortality loomed.
*I thought I'd made peace. But facing death... terror is all I feel.*
"You're in danger." Jiyu's voice shattered the quiet. I jerked my head up. Her chestnut eyes—calm as deep space—gleamed like portals to another dimension.
The deadliest weapons whisper. Mandrakes kill with scent alone.
"Because of you?" I rasped, ready for the worst.
Her brow arched. "Why assume that?"
"You're the only threat here!" *If I die, I'm taking a bite out of her!*
"No. I'm your bodyguard. Others want you dead."
"Just end me already—... *Bodyguard?*" My heroic resolve crumbled mid-sentence.
My dad—some biotech researcher—had stepped on powerful toes. When negotiations failed, they targeted me. Jiyu was his company's solution.
"But why—"
"I guard you. I don't answer questions." She cut me off. "Stay in my sight. I can't guarantee your safety." Her dismissive tone stung. *Humiliating.*
"Ha! I don't need protection!" I muttered. *Maybe buy a folding knife online...*
Agony exploded between my eyes. I looked up—
*A gun.*
Jiyu aimed it at my forehead. Cold certainty radiated from the steel. *Real. Lethal.*
"Which is faster? You or the bullet?"
"People really want me dead? But... guns... China's laws—" Then it clicked.
"Ever seen a lighthouse?" She read my thoughts, flipping the safety before offering me the grip. "It illuminates all... yet its base drowns in shadow."
I trembled taking the weapon. Its weight—warm with gunpowder—made the threat real. A "gift" for self-defense.
Compact. Small caliber. Weak stopping power—might take two shots to kill. But its low recoil and rapid fire suited a novice like me. *Assuming I hit anything.*
Jiyu drilled me on basics: stance, maintenance, silencer use. "Only if your life's at stake. Otherwise, we both pay."
***BOOM—***
Thunder quaked the windows. Glass cracked like ice.
Strange weather. Clouds had choked the sky since yesterday. My gaming plans with Wu Yanxin drowned in the downpour. Now rain sheeted the world into gray smears. *Lightning without end.*
*Is someone transcending mortality out there?*
Jiyu moved in—as a "distant cousin." Like Arthur drawing Excalibur, accepting her gun doomed me to chaos. My future? Unknowable. Unwanted.
Life flowed unchanged: school, sleep, routines. No guns in my face. At school, crowds deterred assassins. At home? Jiyu's presence.
I called her "Xiao Bai" (Little White). After she dislocated my arm *twice* for "white-haired monkey," my snark died. She tolerated it—barely.
"Why no snipers?" I once asked.
"Not yet. They'd rather kidnap you for leverage." Dad's number going dead confirmed it... though his monthly deposits proved he lived.
*Safer than me,* Xiao Bai said.
After a week of military training, my skin had browned three shades. Wu Yanxin became legendary—taking down a 1.8-meter drill sergeant who mocked traditional martial arts as "flowery dancing."
"Fancy moves with no real power? Army boxing's the real deal!" he'd jeered.
Wu Yanxin—raised in a martial arts school—challenged him. He offered to fight one-handed. She floored him in three moves.
We paid for her pride.
Five classes. Two hundred students. Standard 800-meter track. Others ran three laps? We ran six. Others stood guard for an hour? We stood two. Yet our bookworm class endured—even the frailest finished panting, not collapsing. *This batch is unnaturally tough.*
We called it **Hell Week**.
When I'd told Jiyu I could defend myself? Not bravado. Wu Yanxin and I shared a master—her father. Though I'd been... *expelled*.
Their school taught **Five Elements Fist**. Its core:
- **Softness**: *"Guide incoming force, redirect its flow"*
- **Ferocity**: *"Still as mountains, swift as thunder"*
Wu Yanxin mastered Softness. I learned Ferocity.
She'd downed the sergeant with a deflect, a push, a sweep.
I'd lose to her—badly. She'd pinned me since I started training four years late. By middle school, I'd quit. Only her "friendly spars" kept the moves in muscle memory. Still, I could drop two or three untrained guys.
*Maybe Master Wu taught her the real secrets and me the flashy trash?* I grumbled inwardly. *...But I could probably floor some jocks too!*