Drip.
A bead of sweat landed in the delicate hollow of the girl’s collarbone, then was ambiguously wiped away by a fingertip bearing thin calluses.
“Open your eyes.”
The hoarse voice scraped against her eardrums like sandpaper. Ying Chan’s lashes trembled, yet she still couldn’t make out the man’s face above her.
The only thing she could see was the small black mole on his Adam’s apple, flickering in and out of visibility beneath the swaying wall lamp, like a beacon on a midnight shore.
“Remember me,”
The mole suddenly drew closer, accompanied by warm breath. “I will definitely come find you.”
—!
“…Teacher Ying? Teacher Ying?”
The repeated calls pierced through the scorching dream, dragging the ensnared Ying Chan back to reality. Her eyes snapped open!
Before her was a massive makeup mirror, reflecting her slightly flushed face.
The makeup artist held up her brush, at a loss: “Did you have a nightmare?”
“…More thrilling than a nightmare.”
It was an R-rated wet dream.
Ying Chan slowly calmed herself down.
Ever since the car accident in London three years ago, that man with the mole on his Adam’s apple had been visiting her dreams from time to time.
Call it a hallucination—yet it was so vivid that even the vibration of the air when he gasped for breath was unmistakably clear.
Call it real—yet she was a lifelong singleton who hadn’t even dated in twenty-five years, having never been with a man at all.
But she kept having these dreams. She’d not only had her brain checked at the hospital, but had also seen doctors at a psychological clinic, and the only conclusion she’d gotten was that she was under too much stress.
Ying Chan let out a breath, a hint of weariness in her eyes, and picked up her iced Americano.
She’d barely taken a sip when the cup was snatched away: “Your sleep quality’s been so bad these past few days, and you’re still drinking coffee.”
Sister Wei, her manager, was as brisk as ever, tossing the iced Americano straight into the trash.
“I told you to find a bodyguard for close protection, but you wouldn’t. You can’t even sleep from fear day after day—are you trying to work yourself to death?”
The makeup artist let out a curious sound: “A-Chan hasn’t been sleeping well lately? No wonder she has dark circles. What happened?”
Sister Wei crossed her arms and said with exasperation: “Last week, a sasaeng fan broke into her home. A man! Luckily she woke up halfway through her sleep and caught him in time, or who knows what would’ve happened. The police even found rope and a fruit knife in that man’s bag. Scared me half to death.”
“Oh my god!”
Ying Chan drooped her eyelids and said slowly: “I’ve found one, found one. Already found one.”
“Really?” Sister Wei didn’t quite believe it. She’d told her to find one right after the incident, but Ying Chan had kept making excuses.
Ying Chan picked up her phone and opened WeChat to show her.
It was from her best friend Ye Han:
“Girl, I picked out a bodyguard for you—ruthless, skilled, and super handsome. You’re at Plaza 66 today, right? I’ll just send him over to you. Enjoy~”
“…”
Do young girls these days really talk so… unapologetically?
Fine. Sister Wei just wanted her to agree to a bodyguard: “If your personal safety isn’t guaranteed, your brother worries too.”
Ying Chan’s gaze flickered slightly. This “brother” wasn’t her biological brother.
He was the big boss of her company, surnamed Shang.
She suddenly said: “Sister Wei, I actually want to…” terminate my contract.
The door to the makeup room was suddenly knocked on: “Teacher Ying, you can go on stage now.”
Ying Chan tucked away her unfinished words: “Okay.”
She put on her earrings and stood up.
The moment she pushed open the door, the roar of fans crashed over her like a wave.
The stage lights cut like blades, carving her beautiful features into the most radiant of stars.
·
In the corridor, a young man in a black tactical jacket carried a cold, aloof aura, hands in his pockets as he walked. He was brought to a halt by the sudden shouting and looked up.
His gaze cut through the crowd and locked precisely onto that radiant figure on stage.
The stage lights followed her. She had an exceptionally beautiful face—among the thousands of people present, she stood out as uniquely stunning.
Adding to it, there was a small red mole between her brows—whether painted or natural, its color wasn’t deep, like a fallen star, giving her features even more distinction.
The assistant beside the man said in a low voice: “There’s a celebrity doing an event here today, so those must be fans. Mr. Jin, please don’t mind it.”
Jin Si’s gaze lingered for over ten seconds, then he gave a casual “Mm,” and continued walking with a languid air.
Though the assistant was there to guide, he only dared to walk half a meter behind the man, never daring to step past him.
After all.
This young master was the only son of the Jin family—a family whose background couldn’t even be spoken of. He’d returned to the country in secret this time, saying he needed to investigate something. If his boss hadn’t been called into a sudden meeting, it wouldn’t have fallen to a lowly assistant like him to host.
“Where does he want me to wait for him?”
Jin Si’s voice was low and magnetic, carrying a lazy indifference, like an eight-year-aged whiskey—pleasant to the ear, yet making people afraid to approach rashly.
“In that room over there, third door on the left. President Xue will come over as soon as he’s done.” The assistant answered quickly.
It was only a few steps away. Jin Si raised two fingers casually in a dismissive wave: “I’ll go myself. You get back to your work.”
The assistant hesitated for a moment, then answered with a “Yes.”
Jin Si walked alone down the empty corridor, counting to the third door before pushing it open.
A massive vanity table.
He raised an eyebrow slightly, didn’t think much of it, and casually strolled in. He sat down in the chair, picked up a magazine from the table, and flipped through it.
Waiting for someone to arrive.
·
After the event ended, Ying Chan estimated that the bodyguard should have arrived by now.
Sister Wei took a phone call, and she headed back to the dressing room herself, counting to the third door before pushing it open.
Completely caught off guard, she locked eyes with the man lounging in the chair, casually playing on his phone.
Ying Chan abruptly stopped in her tracks, eyes widening slightly.
The dressing room was brightly lit, light and shadow spilling unapologetically over the man’s jet-black short hair.
His face had sharp, high-contrast features—pale, cool-toned skin, a smooth forehead, a tall straight nose, deep-set eye sockets, and slightly lowered eyes that carried a hint of cold detachment.
But the ends of his lashes were exceptionally long, tilting upward with a touch of lazy, effortless charm—careless and free-spirited.
To put it in simpler terms, he simultaneously possessed the aura of both “Don’t come near me” and “Come play with me, darling.”
Absolutely lethal.
While Ying Chan was still stunned, the man suddenly let out a low chuckle.
His pleasant voice carried a hint of naturally seductive teasing as he said, “Keep staring, and I’ll have to charge you.”
Charge…
Charge for what?
Ying Chan’s ears felt a little tingly. The man’s voice sounded somewhat familiar.
But she couldn’t remember where she’d heard it before.
She instinctively glanced at his neck—
Thanks to the recurring dreams she’d had over the past three years, she now found herself checking every new man she met for a mole on his throat.
—This man didn’t have one.
But there was a patch of dark blue-black on his neck, something like a tattoo.
A flicker of disappointment passed through Ying Chan’s heart, but she quickly snapped back to reality and assumed, “You’re the bodyguard Ye Han arranged, right?”
Saying “super handsome” was still too understated.
“How do you charge? Daily rate? Monthly rate?”
Jin Si narrowed his eyes.
Bodyguard…
He had secretly returned to the country, and he did need a reasonable identity to provide some cover.
He glanced down at the magazine in his hand—the cover featured the very woman standing before him—then looked up at this superstar who shone even brighter in person than in photos.
The legs he’d propped up on the coffee table slowly lowered.
“Ah, right,”
He curved his lips in an unreadable smile, shamelessly going along with the mistaken identity without so much as a blush. “It’s me. Your. Bodyguard.”
Here we go!
A cocky, smooth-talking young master x a top female star with a hidden identity.
An evenly matched power couple, both harboring mysterious secrets—but this story isn’t angsty. It’s sweet, fluffy, lighthearted, and even a little funny.
Because the male lead, Jin Si (pronounced like “near-sighted”), talks in such a teasing, flirtatious, and utterly entertaining way!! Give it a chance and you’ll see!