Zhou Yining lifted her sweater.

On the side of her fair waist, faint fingerprints stood out like bruised plum blossoms. She caught the subtle shift in Ji Dongyang’s expression, as his usual cold composure began to crack.

She was delighted.

He stared for a bit in silence, lips pressed tight. Then, finally, said, “Sorry. I didn’t expect that.”

Didn’t expect her body to bruise so easily, perhaps. Didn’t expect that someone who always appeared so composed and untouchable would be this fragile beneath the surface. That mark—he’d left it.

Zhou Yining raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden reasonableness. She teased, “Didn’t expect what?”

Ji Dongyang had already turned away, rummaging through the medicine kit. “Nothing.”

He found the ointment and handed it to her, chin lifting slightly to gesture at her waist. “Apply it yourself.”

Zhou Yining just smiled.

Ji Dongyang stood upright, looking down at her from above. “What, want me to do it for you?”

Still smiling, Zhou Yining fished out an identical bottle of ointment from her bag and held it up wordlessly.

Then she bent down, picked up her heels from the floor, and under the bright lights, finally noticed the heel was worn down beyond repair. With a sigh, she tossed the shoes into the trash bin without ceremony.

“I’m heading home. Thanks for the medicine,” she said.

Ji Dongyang’s gaze shifted to the bin. The black high heels lay quietly at the bottom, small and elegant, just like their owner.

That girl still refused to ask for help. Still hopped along on one foot, her backpack bouncing with each uneven step.

Ji Dongyang’s jaw tightened.

He walked up behind her and scooped her into his arms.

Zhou Yining didn’t even cry out this time. She just looked up at him calmly.

“Actually,” she said softly, “you’re not that annoying after all.”

A faint smile touched Ji Dongyang’s lips. “Likewise.”

Zhou Yining lowered her gaze, saying nothing more.

He carried her back to her door and set her down, then turned and left without a word.

At home, Zhou Yining filled a tub with steaming water, keeping her right foot hooked over the edge so it wouldn’t get wet.

She soaked for half an hour, then wrapped herself in a robe and climbed into bed after applying ointment to her waist.

She was exhausted. But sleep wouldn’t come.

Eventually, she got back up, limped over to her wine cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of red.

The dark crimson liquid slid into the glass like a quiet sigh.

As she lifted the wine to her lips, memories of that night resurfaced.

Truthfully, from the moment her details were leaked online, she’d been waiting for something like this to happen.

The next morning, she opened her door and bumped straight into Ji Dongyang.

For once, she wasn’t carrying her signature backpack.

He gave her a wry look. “Finally realized hauling around a bag full of cash is dangerous?”

Zhou Yining shrugged. “Nope. Just that with my foot like this, my combat power’s down. Can’t carry the extra weight.”

Ji Dongyang glanced down at her feet. “How is it?”

She’d switched to flats today. She tapped her toe against the floor. “Your ointment worked. Don’t worry, it won’t delay the shoot.”

She shut her door and hobbled down the hall, her pace uneven.

Ji Dongyang followed behind for a few steps, then, apparently fed up with her slowness, overtook her without a word.

When she reached the elevator, it just happened to open. They stepped in, one after the other.

Ji Dongyang noticed her pressing the button for the ground floor.

She wasn’t driving today.

As the elevator reached the bottom, Zhou Yining stepped out—only for her hand to be caught from behind.

“My car,” Ji Dongyang said.

Zhou Yining turned back. “No thanks. Getting out of your car is a PR nightmare waiting to happen. I don’t want to end up in tomorrow’s headline.”

She pulled her hand free and walked out.

Ji Dongyang stared at her small figure, moving slowly and without her usual spark. She looked… lonely. And for some reason, that annoyed him.

A few minutes later, A’Ming was driving Ji Dongyang’s car when he spotted Zhou Yining on foot.

“Dong-ge, want to give her a ride?”

Ji Dongyang, eyes closed, answered coolly, “She doesn’t need it.”

A’Ming couldn’t resist rolling down the window. “Miss Zhou! Need a lift?”

Zhou Yining waved him off. “I’m good.”

He could only reply, “Alright then.”

As the car drove off, A’Ming sighed. “She’s something else. Everyone else would be tripping over themselves for the chance to ride with you. She refused.”

From the rearview mirror, Ji Dongyang watched her silhouette fade into the distance.

His mood grew worse.

Zhou Yining arrived at the set just in time.

She was slowly making her way to the makeup room when Zhou Wei walked out, already in costume. She caught sight of her and immediately asked, “What happened to your foot?”

Zhou Yining smiled. “Nothing much. Just twisted it a bit.”

Zhou Wei frowned. “Are you okay?”

Zhou Yining shrugged. “Yeah. I just won’t be wearing heels for a few days.”

Zhou Wei rolled her eyes, then suddenly pointed. “Hey! No backpack?”

Zhou Yining sighed. “Is it really that shocking?”

“I thought you couldn’t survive without it,” Zhou Wei teased.

That morning’s scenes were light. Zhou Yining only had to lie down—she was playing Consort Ning, recovering after a fall into the water. Various concubines came to visit.

No walking needed.

The shoot went smoothly. Barely any retakes.

Even Director Xu looked at her more favorably today, asking about her injury at the end.

At lunch, Zhou Yining was eating with Zhou Wei and a few other actresses in the break room when one of the girls suddenly shrieked.

“Oh my God! This is insane!”

She held up her phone for them to see. “Look! It’s trending on the social feed—‘Girl beats up mugger on the street!’ She’s a total badass!”

She hit play. The video filled the screen.

Zhou Yining glanced at it, then calmly lowered her head and kept eating.

She’d made the headlines after all.

“Who shot this? You can’t even see her face! But that move—if she’s even halfway good-looking, directors would be lining up.”

“What kind of martial art is that? I wanna learn!”

“Taekwondo?”

“Maybe self-defense techniques?”

Zhou Yining took a bite of chicken, then casually said, “Karate.”

Zhou Wei stared at her. “How do you know?”

Zhou Yining didn’t blink. “You can tell from the movement.”

Elsewhere in the break room, A’Ming ran in clutching his phone.

“Holy shit, Dong-ge, look! Isn’t that Miss Zhou? The outfit, the bag—it’s exactly what she was wearing last night!”

Ji Dongyang had just pulled down his sleep mask. His face darkened.

Oblivious, A’Ming rewound the video and shoved it in his face. “Damn, she’s got skills. No wonder she said her bag wasn’t easy to steal!”

Ji Dongyang watched the five-minute video from start to finish.

At first, he was surprised.

But the more he watched, the more it felt… fitting.

A’Ming whispered, “What kind of martial art is that?”

“Karate,” Ji Dongyang muttered, eyes hidden again beneath the mask.

Zhou Yining wrapped up for the day around 3 pm and caught a ride home.

She slept till past six, woke up starving, and curled up in bed, ordering takeout.

Rain pattered softly outside.

When her food arrived a few minutes late, she didn’t mind. She smiled at the apologetic delivery guy. “It’s fine.”

As she waited for the elevator downstairs, she lifted the takeout and sniffed.

So hungry…

Ding—

The elevator doors slid open.

Inside stood Yang Xun, also holding a takeout box.

He noticed her bag. “Is this place any good?”

Zhou Yining nodded. “Pretty decent.”

Yang Xun chuckled. “I heard you twisted your ankle. You alright?”

Zhou Yining raised a brow. “Who told you that?”

“Who else? A’Ming.”

She sighed inwardly. That guy had a motor mouth.

“I’m fine.”

She’d barely stepped inside her apartment before her phone rang.

Wan Wei’s voice crackled down the line. “You ran into a mugger last night? That trending video’s you, right?”

So much for keeping things quiet.

Zhou Yining cursed A’Ming internally. “Yeah.”

Wan Wei laughed. “You haven’t even made the entertainment headlines yet, and you’re already blowing up in the society section. Why didn’t you tell me you had moves like that?”

“I think it’s normal for women to know how to protect themselves.”

“Mm-hmm. I might just take a script with some action scenes for you.”

“…”

Zhou Yining stabbed her food with frustration.

She, truly, absolutely didn’t want to shoot fight scenes.

Next door, Yang Xun returned to find Ji Dongyang still asleep.

To avoid his bad temper, he quietly set down the takeout and the new script—but then caught sight of something in the trash bin.

A pair of black heels. Small. Elegant.

He stared at them for a moment. Then turned toward the bedroom.

Finally, he couldn’t hold it in.

He walked over and shook the man awake.

Ji Dongyang sat up, frowning, pulling off his sleep mask—only to have a black high heel shoved in his face.

Yang Xun demanded, “When did a woman come over? Are you dating someone behind my back? No, wait—you’re dating someone?! And you didn’t even tell me?!”

As his agent, how was he the last to know?!