A resemblance

"Perfect. Let's trade a few moves."

Lei Zhen unzipped his jacket, pulled it off, and tossed it onto a nearby equipment rack. Underneath, he wore a tight black T-shirt stretched taut over his chest, and his arms were nearly as thick as an ordinary man's calves.

He loosened his wrists and ankles, lowered himself slightly, and settled into a textbook fighting stance, his center of gravity low and his footing rock solid.

"Let's see whether you've actually got some skill, or whether saving the master was just luck."

Chen Yuan walked slowly to the center of the courtyard. He neither adopted a stance nor tensed his body, simply standing there naturally with his hands at his sides, watching Lei Zhen with the same calm expression.

Lei Zhen frowned, a little displeased. "Aren't you going to get ready?"

"I'm ready."

Lei Zhen immediately felt annoyed. This kid was far too arrogant.

Without another word, he stepped forward, clenched his right fist, and punched straight at Chen Yuan. The punch was neither fast nor slow; it was a probing strike, meant to see how Chen Yuan would respond.

But Chen Yuan didn't dodge at all.

He stepped forward to meet him, planted his right foot firmly, bent his knees slightly, and twisted his waist and hips. His left shoulder drove forward with the motion as he executed the Baji Fist's Mountain-Leaning Charge.

All the force of that charge gathered at his waist. The distance was short, but its explosive power was immense, like a spring compressed to its limit suddenly being released.

Before Lei Zhen's fist could touch Chen Yuan's shoulder, a tremendous force slammed into his chest.

He staggered back three full steps despite himself, his soles leaving three deep black streaks on the rubber flooring before he barely managed to steady himself.

His entire arm, from fist to elbow, tingled with numbness, as though someone had lashed it hard with a thick wooden stick.

Lei Zhen froze.

He looked down at his numb chest, then back up at Chen Yuan. The young man stood exactly where he had been, hands at his sides and expression unchanged, as though that powerful charge had been nothing more than a light bump.

Lei Zhen slowly moved his numb arm, but the tingling refused to fade. The way he looked at Chen Yuan had completely changed. His earlier scrutiny had given way to genuine seriousness.

He sized Chen Yuan up again from head to toe—his shoulders, his waist, his legs. Standing still, he looked no different from an ordinary person, but the moment he moved, his entire presence changed. That strength, that explosive power, was certainly not something a person could develop in just three or five years.

"That was Baji Fist?" Lei Zhen asked.

"Yes," Chen Yuan replied quietly.

"How many years have you practiced?"

"I started training with my grandfather when I was little. It's been over ten years now."

Lei Zhen nodded without saying anything more. He walked over, picked up his jacket from the equipment rack, put it on, and zipped it all the way to the base of his neck.

There was less criticism and more approval in his gaze now, though he still offered no words of praise.

"All right, that's enough showing your skills. When you come out on jobs with me from now on, remember these things: talk less, observe more, and don't go looking for trouble—but never be afraid of it, either."

Chen Yuan nodded solemnly. "I'll remember, Brother Lei."

The two left the training area and followed the corridor toward the main building. The sun had fully risen, spilling over the ginkgo tree in the courtyard and making its green leaves shine. A breeze swept through them with a soft rustle, casting dappled light and shadow on the ground.

Lei Zhen still walked ahead at the same unhurried pace. After a few steps, he suddenly muttered:

"Come to think of it, at first glance, this kid Chen Yuan does have something of Jing Shen about him."

Chen Desheng happened to be coming downstairs. Hearing this, he stopped halfway down the staircase, tilted his head, and examined Chen Yuan closely, looking him up and down, then back up again for several seconds.

Chen Yuan felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze, but he didn't turn away. He simply stood quietly and let him look.

After studying him for a while, Chen Desheng smiled, shook his head, and continued downstairs.

"You know, looking closely, there really is a bit of a resemblance."

With that, he glanced at Chen Yuan again and smiled, then headed straight for the study without giving the matter much thought.

Lei Zhen hurried after him. Chen Yuan stood in the corridor, watching their backs disappear around the corner, and silently wondered, Jing Shen? Who's that?

He didn't dwell on it or ask about it, merely following them in silence.

That afternoon, Chen Yuan officially moved into the bodyguard's room he had seen that morning.

The window faced south, letting warm sunlight spill inside and fill the whole room with a cozy warmth.

He opened his bag, took out his few simple clothes, folded them neatly, and put them in the wardrobe. Then he took out his phone, set it on the bedside table, and plugged in the charger. The indicator beside the charging port lit up red.

He placed his slippers beneath the bed and arranged his toiletries in the bathroom. Once everything was done, Chen Yuan lay down on the bed. The mattress was firm and comfortable, the pillow just the right height, and the quilt carried a faint scent of laundry detergent.

He stared at the white ceiling, clean and free of cracks or ugly water stains. It was nothing like the ceiling in the old house Zhang Xiu'e rented.

Chen Yuan rolled over and reached for his phone. The screen lit up, but the notification bar was empty. There wasn't a single new message.

He opened WeChat and found his conversation with Zhang Xiu'e. Their last exchange was still from yesterday. She had written, "I found a job! I'll tell you about it when I get home tonight," and he had replied, "You're amazing, Sister Ezi. I found a job too. I'll tell you tonight." They hadn't spoken since.

Chen Yuan tapped out a few words: "Sister Ezi, I've arrived—"

After a moment's thought, he deleted them one by one.

He tried again: "I started work today—"

That still didn't feel right, so he deleted it again.

Then he started typing afresh: "Last night—"

As he typed the first word, his finger suddenly stopped. He stared at the solitary "Last" on the screen for several seconds, then held down the delete key, erasing it bit by bit until the message box was empty again.

Chen Yuan put his phone back on the bedside table, and the screen instantly went dark.

Before he knew it, it was completely dark outside. The courtyard lights had come on, their warm yellow glow falling over the bamboo. Its shadows swayed gently across the wall in the breeze.

The chirping of insects drifted from afar, one wave after another, making the night seem all the quieter.

He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. The laundry detergent on it smelled nothing like Zhang Xiu'e.

She had a faint scent that belonged to her alone. He couldn't describe it, but once he had smelled it, he could never forget it.

Chen Yuan closed his eyes. His mind was a jumble of scenes from the night before:

That glaring smear of blood on the sheets, her back as she got dressed, the buttons she slowly fastened one by one from her chest to her collar, and the words she had said with a smile: "I'd say I came out ahead."

Her voice had been soft and amused, almost weightless, yet it kept lingering in his ears.

Chen Yuan kept feeling that something lay hidden beneath Zhang Xiu'e's air of indifference, but he couldn't work out what it was, and he didn't dare think too deeply about it.

He pulled the quilt up over his head. Beneath it, everything was pitch-black, and he could see nothing. All he could hear was his own breathing, each inhale and exhale echoing through that confined space.

Just then, his phone lit up again. He threw back the quilt and picked it up, only to find an irrelevant news notification that had nothing whatsoever to do with Zhang Xiu'e.

Disappointed, Chen Yuan put the phone back and rolled over again to face the wall. It was blank and white, with nothing on it.

But whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was Zhang Xiu'e.