The taco truck had been a success. The salsa had reached a "Golden Core" level of spiciness that left Chen Feng feeling more spiritually aligned than a week of meditation. As he cruised back toward his apartment in the purple Lamborghini, the city lights blurred into long ribbons of violet and gold.
He was three blocks from home when he saw a flickering streetlamp illuminating a scene that was, quite frankly, a cliché he'd hoped to avoid in this life.
A young girl in a high school uniform, clutching a backpack to her chest, was backed against a brick wall. Surrounding her were four hoodlums who looked like they'd stepped out of a low-budget action movie—dyed hair, rusted chains, and the faint smell of cheap cigarettes and bad decisions.
"Look, kid, we just want the phone," the leader sneered, reaching for her bag. "And maybe a little walk to the park."
Chen Feng sighed, pulling the Lamborghini to the curb. "Every time. I just want to digest my tacos in peace, and the universe decides to throw a 'Hero Rescuing the Damsel' side-quest at me."
Chen Feng stepped out of the car, his flip-flops clicking rhythmically. "Gentlemen," he said, not even bothering to take off his sunglasses. "The girl has a math test tomorrow. You have a future in manual labor. Let's not complicate things."
"Who the hell are you, Gramps?" one of the thugs yelled, swinging a heavy chain.
Chen Feng didn't use a palm strike or a kick. He simply stepped into the man's shadow and flicked a finger against the chain. The vibration traveled up the metal, turning the thug's arm numb instantly. He then turned to the leader, caught a punch in mid-air, and squeezed just enough to make the man realize his bones were currently at the mercy of a hydraulic press.
"My car is purple," Chen Feng whispered in the leader's ear. "It's a very sensitive color. If you're still here when I finish counting to three, I'll make you match the paint job."
"One."
They didn't wait for "two." The four hoodlums scrambled into the darkness, leaving behind a trail of dropped cigarettes and a very confused teenager.
"Are you alright, Little Disciple?" Chen Feng asked, looking at the girl. Her name tag read Lin Xia, and she looked remarkably like a younger, less-frozen version of Lin Xuerui.
"I... I missed the last bus," she stammered, her eyes wide as she looked at the glowing purple car. "And my phone died."
Chen Feng looked at the sky. A heavy rain was starting to fall—the kind of sudden urban deluge that turned streets into rivers. "My apartment is around the corner. You can charge your 'scrying mirror' there and call your family. I have a sentient vacuum cleaner that will protect your virtue."
Lin Xia spent the evening staring in awe at Chen Feng's apartment. She watched the Roomba—now glowing with violet light—systematically hunt down a stray dust bunny under the sofa.
"Is your vacuum... haunted?" she asked, sipping a cup of tea Chen Feng had prepared (which, unbeknownst to her, was curing her mild anemia and boosting her IQ by ten points).
"It's just dedicated," Chen Feng said, lounging on his recliner. "Sleep on the sofa. The blankets are made of Egyptian cotton—not quite Cloud-Silk, but they'll do."
Chen Feng, being a Sovereign of absolute indifference to worldly scandal, went to his room and fell into a deep, taco-induced slumber.
At 7:00 AM, the peace was shattered by the sound of a key turning in the lock. Su Meiling had the spare key for "security emergencies," which she usually used to wake Chen Feng up for morning briefings.
She marched in, holding two cups of coffee and a folder of Director Zhao's financial records. "Chen Feng! We need to talk about the foundry—"
She stopped dead.
Lin Xia was sitting on the sofa, wrapped in Chen Feng's oversized "I ❤️ NY" hoodie, her hair messy from sleep, happily munching on a piece of "Heaven-Defying Toast" that was still glowing slightly gold.
"Who... what... why?" Meiling's coffee cups shook in her hands.
Chen Feng wandered out of his bedroom, shirtless, scratching his head and looking like a man who hadn't seen the sun in a century.
"Oh, Meiling. You're early. This is Xia. She had a run-in with some low-level mobs last night."
Meiling's eyes darted from the shirtless Sovereign to the high schooler in his clothes. Her brain, fueled by stress and lack of sleep, took the shortest path to the most explosive conclusion.
"A high schooler, Chen Feng? Truly?" Meiling's voice was a dangerous whisper. "I thought you were a 'Sovereign,' not a criminal! Lin Xuerui is waiting for you at the office to discuss a partnership, and you're here... running a daycare for delinquents?!"
"It's not what it looks like," Lin Xia chirped, oblivious to the tension. "He saved me! And his vacuum is a god!"
"I don't care about the god-vacuum!" Meiling yelled, throwing the folder on the table. "The Board of Directors is already trying to fire you, and if they find out you have a 'Little Sister' hidden in your apartment, not even the Orange Flash can save your reputation!"
Chen Feng sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Meiling, your heart-rate is peaking. It's bad for your skin. Xia is Lin Xuerui's cousin. If you want to scream, maybe wait until the 'Ice Queen' gets here. I suspect she'll have a much more... chilling reaction."
The color drained from Meiling's face as the realization hit her. "She's a Lin? Oh, ancestors... this isn't just a scandal. This is a corporate war."