From the moment Cheng Mingjiao became self-aware, he knew he was a very intelligent person.
Very intelligent, not just ordinarily so.
Since the age of three, he had excelled at using his powerful mind to understand all the interpersonal relationships and behavioral logic in the world.
As for before the age of three, he felt he was capable of that too, but the human brain inherently had flaws that prevented him from remembering things from before age three, so he reluctantly counted from age three onward.
In short, his intelligence allowed him to comprehend and integrate information, accurately analyze situations, and quickly formulate responses.
But.
Today.
His ability to think.
Seemed.
To have vanished.
Because he simply could not understand why his new assistant, whom he had snatched away from Lu Xue…
Why was she doing this to him?
The weather was hot, and her palm was hot too. Heat stacked upon heat, and before the aversion could even surface, the scent of hand cream from her fingertips rushed to meet him.
The two girls had already run off giggling, and the surrounding noise faded with them.
The small plaza remained lively, but Cheng Mingjiao and Zhang Xiyue seemed isolated from all that bustle.
It wasn't until the woman's figure had completely disappeared that Zhang Xiyue withdrew her hand.
Cheng Mingjiao still stared fixedly at her, his deep brown eyes clearly reflecting her sweat-dampened face.
He looked at Zhang Xiyue, and Zhang Xiyue looked back at him.
This was probably the longest they had ever held eye contact since their brief acquaintance.
Cheng Mingjiao's face—from a distance, it was deep and handsome; up close, it was pure artistry. From the spacing of his brows and eyes to the height of his nose bridge, and the thickness and shape of his lips, everything was flawless.
If he were a stranger she had happened to meet, Zhang Xiyue would have been more than happy to take a few extra looks out of appreciation for something beautiful.
Unfortunately, he was not.
Zhang Xiyue tried hard not to let her gaze waver, speaking as sincerely as she could: "President Cheng, there was just a mosquito on your face."
Cheng Mingjiao was silent for a few seconds, then countered: "Do I look like an idiot to you?"
Zhang Xiyue: "…"
Cheng Mingjiao: "I'll give you one minute to give me a reasonable explanation. Otherwise, I'll fire you and sue you."
"S-sue?" Zhang Xiyue was startled. "Sue for what?"
Cheng Mingjiao looked at her calmly: "Sexual harassment."
Zhang Xiyue: "…"
She had to admit—with a face like his, that accusation actually carried some weight.
She was still spacing out when Cheng Mingjiao raised his wrist: "Forty-five seconds left."
"President Cheng…"
"Forty seconds."
Zhang Xiyue: "…"
"Thirty-eight, thirty-seven, thirty-six…"
The gold-trimmed green watch face was exquisitely luxurious, its slowly moving second hand tracing an invisible arc, opening a mocking mouth wide at Zhang Xiyue.
And Cheng Mingjiao—the gloomy, obsessive man three months from now, the social elite of this moment—stood right in the center of the small plaza as if no one else existed, methodically counting down for her.
Zhang Xiyue's brain raced, trying to find a reason Cheng Mingjiao would believe within those few dozen seconds.
But Cheng Mingjiao's countdown was like the grim reaper's drumbeats, each one rattling her composure.
"Twelve, eleven, ten…"
The last ten seconds. She simply couldn't think of anything.
Zhang Xiyue took a deep breath, her usually straight back slumping slightly: "I'm sorry, I didn't…"
"Cheng Mingjiao!"
A thunderous shout cut off the countdown. Zhang Xiyue and Cheng Mingjiao turned at the same time.
There, a tall, fat man was charging toward them, gnashing his teeth.
The man had to weigh over two hundred jin. As he ran, his flesh jiggled wildly, drawing gasps from the crowd as people scrambled back.
Seeing that he meant trouble, Zhang Xiyue immediately stepped back, only to stumble on a pebble.
By the time she steadied herself, the man was already in front of them.
What arrived before the man was his fist, the size of a sandbag.
Though the punch wasn't aimed at her, Zhang Xiyue still let out a small gasp. The next second, the white shirt at her side flashed past, and an agile silhouette formed a crisp cutout against the vast burning clouds.
Bang!
The man crashed onto his back, writhing on the ground and cursing in pain.
Zhang Xiyue recognized him by the mole on his chin—it was Yang Fei, the boss of Deshuo Construction.
That afternoon, Fangfang had pulled her into the "What Does His Majesty Really Want" group chat that excluded Cheng Mingjiao.
Unlike the cold, formal work group, everyone in the small group was a chatterbox. The conversations were roughly divided into three parts: what to eat, what to drink, and trash-talking Cheng Mingjiao.
Whenever the trash-talking segment came up, the topic would spiral endlessly outward, and Yang Fei was part of that spiral.
Apparently, he had recently declared that sooner or later, he would take Cheng Mingjiao's life.
Their feud dated back to an evening in March, when Cheng Mingjiao had witnessed him kissing his mistress and immediately reported it to his wife.
Yang Fei had gotten where he was thanks to his wife's family resources. Once the affair leaked, his wife divorced him, and since then his company's performance had been in freefall—now it was barely hanging by a thread.
He clearly blamed Cheng Mingjiao for all of it.
Zhang Xiyue hadn't expected that she'd see Yang Fei in person that very evening, just after seeing his photo in the group chat that afternoon.
She glanced at him a couple more times, and when she looked up, she suddenly met Cheng Mingjiao's condescending gaze.
"…He's the reason I did that." The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Cheng Mingjiao's brow gave the faintest twitch.
Zhang Xiyue had already calmed herself and quickly pieced together an explanation: "As a competent assistant, it's my job to make sure the boss isn't bothered by people and things he dislikes. So when I saw Yang Fei just now, my first instinct was to keep him out of your line of sight. But it was an emergency—there was no time for a verbal warning…"
It was a bit stiff, but the words were earnest, the logic sound, and there was nothing to fault.
Cheng Mingjiao had a nagging feeling something was off.
"I'm sorry, Chief Cheng. I'll be more mindful of my approach next time," Zhang Xiyue added another apology.
Cheng Mingjiao was silent for a moment, then accepted the explanation and moved on to a different topic: "You suddenly blocked me just now—were you trying to protect me?"
When did I…
Zhang Xiyue looked up in confusion, and after meeting his gaze again, remembered how she'd nearly tripped when her escape attempt failed.
She paused for a second, then nodded. "Yes, Chief Cheng."
On her very first day on the job, she'd gone this far for her boss. If Cheng Mingjiao had even a shred of decency, he wouldn't hold the face-turning incident against her anymore.
Sure enough, Cheng Mingjiao didn't bring up the face-turning thing again.
But not bringing it up didn't mean he had any decency.
"Go to finance tomorrow and settle your wages. You don't need to come back."
Cheng Mingjiao delivered the verdict with cold arrogance, leaving the fat man on the ground and her frozen in place as he turned and walked toward the base.
The delay had cost him time—it was already dark, and he'd wasted precious hours meant for his incognito inspection.
It wasn't until he was five meters away that Zhang Xiyue snapped back to reality and hurried after him. "Why?"
"Because you wanted to protect me," Cheng Mingjiao said casually.
What?
…Is that even human speech?
Zhang Xiyue was speechless when Cheng Mingjiao suddenly stopped and cast a lazy sidelong glance at her. "Are you a professional boxer?"
Zhang Xiyue answered instinctively. "No."
"Then what were you trying to prove?"
Zhang Xiyue: "…"
"His height and weight mean that even without a trace of training, he could kill you with one punch," Cheng Mingjiao said, as if to let her die with clarity. "And in that situation, instead of running, you chose to protect me—someone who works out two hours a day and won the national youth boxing championship at fifteen?"
Zhang Xiyue: "…"
She had a reasonable suspicion that he'd built up all that preamble just to get to that last sentence.
Cheng Mingjiao delivered his closing statement: "My company doesn't need employees who overestimate their abilities."
Zhang Xiyue hadn't expected that, in his ironclad logic, even a normal attempt to claim credit would backfire and bite her in the ass.
Her lips moved again and again, but for once, she didn't know what to say.
Cheng Mingjiao let out a light scoff and turned to leave again.
"Honey! Honey, what happened to you?!"
A shriek rang out, and Zhang Xiyue turned to see a short-haired woman throw herself onto Yang Fei.
Yang Fei's mouth opened under the weight, nearly rolling his eyes back.
As everyone knew, his wife had already divorced him. The only one who still called him "honey" now was his mistress.
Zhang Xiyue had just sorted out the woman's identity when she saw the woman lift her head with a vicious glare, her eyes fixed on…
Remembering Chief Cheng's lesson well, Zhang Xiyue quickly sidestepped two paces away.
"Cheng Mingjiao, I'll fight you to the death!"
The woman, in her high heels, charged at Cheng Mingjiao with murderous intent.
The fat man earlier had already made Cheng Mingjiao the center of attention; now this woman made him the center of everyone's attention.
Zhang Xiyue hitched her bag higher on her shoulder, curious whether Cheng Mingjiao—who'd won the national youth boxing championship at fifteen—would give the woman a shoulder throw too.
Clearly not.
Cheng Mingjiao's face was cold and stern, his presence imposing, but all he did was furrow his brow and step back.
Yet his retreat speed was clearly no match for the woman's pursuit.
In an instant, she was right in front of him, her sharp manicured nails serving as weapons as she lunged furiously at Cheng Mingjiao. His expression darkened further, but he did nothing—just raised a hand to block.
Zhang Xiyue let out a sigh, grabbed the woman's arm, and pulled her away.
The woman, too focused on avenging her lover to notice Cheng Mingjiao had backup, froze for a moment before starting to struggle.
"Let go of me! Let go…"
Zhang Xiyue wasn't a professional boxer, but handling a small woman of only eighty or ninety pounds was more than manageable.
She subdued her in no time, then casually pulled a lighter-sized object from her bag.
"This is an electronic riot-control device. The energy in it can take down a full-grown man in an instant," Zhang Xiyue said, ignoring the woman's constant struggling as she explained to Cheng Mingjiao in a gentle voice. "Chief Cheng, I'm not overestimating my abilities. I really can protect you."
Cheng Mingjiao looked at the calm, soft-spoken woman, and a flicker of bewilderment passed through his usually icy eyes.
Just as the silence settled, a third shrill scream rang out: "Daddy! Mommy!"
Cheng Mingjiao: "…"
Zhang Xiyue: "…"
There's a kid too?
Are they coming one by one like the Calabash Brothers?
Is there no end to this?
Fortunately, the police officers on patrol put a timely stop to the chaos, escorting all those involved back to the station for a little chat.
Cheng Mingjiao's plan to conduct a discreet inspection had completely fallen through. He sat on the bench outside the police station with a cold expression.
After Zhang Xiyue finished giving her statement, she made a graceful exit once the lawyer arrived.
By the time all was said and done, it was already completely dark outside.
She stepped out, then returned to find Cheng Mingjiao still sitting on the bench.
At this moment, his shirt was no longer crisp, his carefully styled hair had fallen loose across his brows, and his long legs had nowhere to rest—he exuded the air of a fallen young aristocrat.
Zhang Xiyue composed herself and asked with genuine concern, "Mr. Cheng, are you alright?"
Cheng Mingjiao lifted his gaze, cold and brooding, and asked impatiently, "How much longer?"
"Shouldn't be long now. The surveillance footage has already confirmed they threw the first punch." Zhang Xiyue walked over, crouched down while smoothing her skirt, and set the iodine and cotton swabs she'd just bought on the bench.
Cheng Mingjiao frowned. "You're injured?"
"You're the one who's injured," Zhang Xiyue corrected. "Mr. Cheng, let me disinfect that for you."
Cheng Mingjiao paused, then noticed two minor scratch marks beneath his rolled-up sleeve.
"It's just a small scratch. No need." He refused outright.
Zhang Xiyue reminded him, "Human fingernails carry a lot of bacteria. It's best to disinfect it."
Hearing this, Cheng Mingjiao's expression softened slightly, but as the boss, having already declined, he wouldn't go back on his word.
Zhang Xiyue was only doing this to maintain the image of a caring assistant anyway. Seeing that he was adamant, she didn't push further.
Cheng Mingjiao watched her pack the items away, seeming to want to say something but holding back.
Inside the station, the lawyers from both sides were still bickering. The number of people sitting on the bench had gone from one to two. The streetlamp outside cast light on the ground, and tiny moths fluttered around it.
Amidst the chaotic background noise, Cheng Mingjiao suddenly spoke up: "Why do you carry an electronic riot-control device on you?"
Zhang Xiyue, who was starting to doze off, replied, "For you."
As the assistant to a yandere male lead who would ram into people at the slightest provocation, her primary task wasn't to push him toward success—it was to protect herself.
She answered too quickly, as if the answer had been etched into her mind all along.
Cheng Mingjiao was momentarily at a loss for words, simply gazing at her in silence.
The station's lighting softened his features, making him seem less overbearing. His narrow, elongated eyes seemed to shimmer with a watery sheen.
Zhang Xiyue turned her head, looked into those beautiful eyes, and earnestly expanded on her answer: "That's right, Mr. Cheng. I'm here to protect you."
Cheng Mingjiao's eyes flickered slightly.