The makeup artist and the young assistant arrived, so Ying Chan told Jin Si to wait outside while she changed.
As the assistant helped her out of the designer gown borrowed from the brand, she couldn’t contain her excitement. “Sister Chan? Is that guy really a bodyguard? He’s way too handsome!”
“If he’s not a bodyguard, then what is he?” Ying Chan looked at the assistant’s flushed, excited face—half amused, half exasperated. “My kept boy toy or something?”
The assistant nodded frantically. “Please tell me he is! That would give me motivation to make money again!”
Earning money to keep a pretty boy—now that was a life worth living.
But then again…
Everything had happened so naturally earlier that Ying Chan had simply assumed he was a bodyguard. Thinking about it now, the man’s looks and bearing didn’t really seem like a bodyguard’s…
Ying Chan cooperated with the assistant to change while calling Ye Han on her phone.
But Ye Han was probably busy at the moment and didn’t pick up.
She switched to WeChat instead: “Send me the personal file of the bodyguard you arranged for me.”
Her gaze drifted to the window, where she could see half of Jin Si’s back. She thought to herself that with looks like that, no wonder he’d been mistaken for a kept boy.
Outside the door, Jin Si leaned casually against the wall, phone in hand. He swiped his finger a few times, eyes lowered, revealing the faint creases of his eyelids.
Xue Shao had called him several times. He’d muted it and didn’t answer. When the calls went through, Xue Shao switched to WeChat.
“Boss, didn’t you say you’d wait for me in the room? Why didn’t I see you there??”
Jin Si looked up. He could now confirm he’d walked into the wrong room—but this was indeed the third one…
Something occurred to him. He craned his neck and looked ahead.
Oh.
The assistant had said the third room counting from the left, not the third from the right.
Jin Si smiled lazily.
He typed back: “Within half an hour, find someone named Ye Han who runs a security company.”
Xue Shao: “What for?”
Jin Si: “Use whatever method you want. Just make sure that when Ying Chan asks her, she confirms I’m the bodyguard she arranged for Ying Chan.”
Xue Shao: “??”
Wait.
This boss of his—he’d snuck back from abroad without telling his family, probably investigating something or other, and now he was playing… bodyguard?
One strand of his family’s wealth could buy a hundred security companies to toss around for fun. What was he doing playing the fallen Cinderella here?
Xue Shao couldn’t understand at all: “Why, boss?”
Because Jin Si was looking down at his phone, his Adam’s apple and chin were hidden by the high collar. From the side, only his sharply defined jawline was visible.
He replied slowly with two words.
“To—earn money.”
“…………”
On the other end, Xue Shao began to question whether he even understood Chinese anymore.
But if this boss wanted to play cosplay, Xue Shao could only build the stage for him. He immediately had people go find this Ye Han.
But wait.
Ying Chan…
That name sounded familiar. Wasn’t she the “little sister” that Shang Lübai had been looking after for years?
·
Ying Chan finished changing and came out of the dressing room.
Jin Si put away his phone and swept his gaze over her.
She’d swapped the gown for a pink-and-white knit vest paired with loose pink cargo pants.
Simple, casual, but it suited her well.
Except the vest was “hot girl style”—fitted, cropped, and midriff-baring—so the curve of her chest and the slenderness of her waist were both on full display.
“…” Jin Si calmly averted his gaze.
He pulled a black mask from his pocket and put it on, hooking his fingers over the edge and pulling it up to cover most of his face.
His eyes drooped lazily, and a low, husky voice rolled from his throat.
“Ready?”
Ying Chan thought to herself, who’s the celebrity here, exactly?
She tossed her hair. “Let’s go.”
She walked ahead, her slender waist so pale it was almost blinding.
Jin Si suddenly grabbed his collar zipper and pulled it all the way down, then shrugged off his jacket, gave it a shake, and draped it over her shoulders. “Wear it.”
Caught off guard, Ying Chan was wrapped in the man’s body heat. She flinched sensitively and whipped her head around.
“…I’m not cold.”
Jin Si wore a simple T-shirt underneath. “It’s not about being cold—didn’t you just run into a creep? Still showing skin?”
Ying Chan was incredulous. “…What are you, some leftover from the Qing Dynasty? Where is this showing skin?” It was a perfectly normal outfit, okay?
This cool guy—with a face so recklessly, lawlessly handsome—turned out to be as prim and proper as a sheltered lady at heart??
“This is showing skin. I’m your bodyguard. It’s my responsibility to eliminate all potential risks for you.”
“…”
Ying Chan remembered the photos in that sasaeng fan’s camera—various shots of her legs, her waist, her chest… She silently pulled the jacket on properly.
The jacket still carried the man’s lingering warmth—dry, scorching hot, with a scent of sun-baked air. It felt clean.
Ying Chan suddenly thought of the scorching body temperature of the man in her dream, and her heart inexplicably tightened.
The young assistant was off work now. The two of them took the elevator directly to the underground parking garage and got into the van.
There was a driver in the car. After getting in, Ying Chan said, “Driver, take it slow when you pull out.”
The driver often drove for her and understood, smiling as he said, “You want to greet your fans, right?”
Every time Ying Chan had an offline event, a huge crowd of fans would show up. She knew they came from all over the country just to see her.
So she would take photos with them and greet them. If the event ran long, she would even order them milk tea and cake—she really spoiled her fans.
The van drove out of the parking lot, and sure enough, a large group of fans holding banners printed with Ying Chan’s photo had gathered on both sides of the road.
Seeing the car come out, the fans screamed excitedly, “Achan! Achan!!”
The driver slowed down as he passed them, and Ying Chan lowered the window to wave goodbye, calling out, “Be careful on the way home! Thank you all for coming today!”
The fans screamed even louder when they saw her still greeting them.
“Ahhhh Achan! Achan—”
“Achan, you’re so pretty! Achan, remember to rest!”
“Achan, Mommy loves you!!”
That last shout was especially loud, coming from a chubby male fan.
Ying Chan choked on that, and a low chuckle came from beside her.
She turned to look at Jin Si.
This was a seven-seat van, with two independent seats in the middle. Jin Si sat in the other one, long legs crossed, head down playing with his phone.
As if the person who had laughed just now wasn’t him at all.
The car left the circle of fans, and Ying Chan rolled the window back up.
The driver asked from the front, “Should I take you back to the hotel, or home?”
Ying Chan glanced at her newly appointed bodyguard. “Home.”
The car arrived at Heshan Bay, and Ying Chan was ready to get out, but the bodyguard beside her hadn’t moved an inch.
Ying Chan couldn’t hold it in anymore: “Are you new to this line of work?”
Jin Si went “Huh?” and looked at her, and in that moment, before he could rein it in, his arrogant, lofty aura suddenly leaked out.
Ying Chan froze.
But it only lasted a few brief seconds before Jin Si composed himself. He looked at her, scratched his brow, and went “Oh~” as understanding dawned.
Young Master Jin was used to others opening the car door for him—he hadn’t realized at all that he was now the one in a service role.
He put away his phone, opened the door, and got out.
Ying Chan was increasingly suspicious that he wasn’t a real bodyguard…
Could it be that sasaeng fans had upgraded their tactics, disguising themselves as her bodyguard to get close to her?
She pulled out her phone and checked—Ye Han still hadn’t replied to her message.
That woman, who knew what she was busy with. Ying Chan sent another urging message: “Hurry up!!”
She reached to pull the door handle, and the door slid open on its own.
She instinctively looked up and saw Jin Si standing before the door.
One hand in his pocket, cocky and sharp; the other extended to her, like a knight inviting a princess to elope at midnight.
His voice carried a lazy, idle drawl: “Get out, bo-ss.”