Chapter 11: 011

Song Guiya was completely oblivious to the uproar online.

Her phone had long since been abandoned in some forgotten corner, and she relied on her smartwatch for messages from her agent and assistant.

The internet-addicted Gu Yuanyuan couldn’t fathom it. Who in this day and age could live without their phone?

Song Guiya found the watch plenty convenient. She could check messages and the time anytime, monitor her health stats, and it stayed securely on her wrist even during workouts—no risk of it slipping off.

She kept in touch with Huo Yao and Gu Yuanyuan via calls and WeChat, but she paid little attention to social media and had zero interest in it.

By Gu Yuanyuan’s reckoning, she was a total normie.

Right now, Yuanyuan was still chattering nonstop through the watch. Song Guiya, freshly changed into her running gear and ready to head out for a night jog, cut in. “Nothing else? I’m hanging up then. See you tomorrow.”

“Teacher Song!” Gu Yuanyuan rushed to add, “Don’t forget what I said earlier. Teacher Xi is a guest judge for the Grand Finals this time. You have to keep those bad habits of yours in check—at least don’t piss her off. Otherwise, this variety show is done for, and Sister Huo will hit you with massive claims for mental anguish, hair loss…”

“I got it. See you tomorrow.” Song Guiya interrupted the nagging.

She hung up, switched her watch to exercise mode, and headed downstairs—right into Xi Tongyue, who was also dressed for a run.

Song Guiya had no plans to bring up spotting her at the program crew’s earlier that day.

No matter what Gu Yuanyuan said, she wasn’t about to suck up to Xi Tongyue just to win the competition. For one thing, she didn’t peg Xi Tongyue as someone who pulled strings. For another, she wanted to know if she could earn this world’s approval on her own.

“Teacher Xi, out for a run?”

“Mm.” Xi Tongyue’s reply was cool.

“Together?” Song Guiya pressed on, undeterred.

“Mm.” Still cool.

They slipped on their shoes and stepped out the door—one veering left, the other right.

Song Guiya: ?

“Teacher Xi, this way,” she prompted.

Xi Tongyue halted, glanced back at Song Guiya without a word, then pivoted toward the yard gate.

Song Guiya puzzled over it for a beat before inspiration struck. “Teacher Xi, hold on.”

She bolted back upstairs. Less than two minutes later, she reemerged, something bulging in her pocket.

“Let’s go.”

“Mm.” Xi Tongyue didn’t ask what the detour was for, showed no curiosity about the pocketed item—her demeanor stayed ice-cold.

Song Guiya offered no explanation. They passed through the gate, and she led Xi Tongyue down a quiet path.

It opened onto a stretch of the Riverside Scenic Belt in the Villa District. By nine at night, the place was deserted.

Song Guiya jogged the river route often and knew it like the back of her hand, so bringing Xi Tongyue along didn’t worry her about recognition. And if they did cross paths with anyone, she had ways to handle it.

After a solid hour of running, they dropped onto a bench by the water to catch their breath.

A cruise ship bedecked in lights glided past on the river. The early summer breeze, laced with the scent of flowers along the bank, danced across the shimmering water to tease the loose strands of hair at their temples—as if intent on drawing them closer together.

Song Guiya glanced over, tempted to smooth Xi Tongyue’s wind-tossed locks, but her hand rose only to fall again.

They’d barely exchanged words the whole run, and the silence hung heavy now that they were sitting.

For some reason, Song Guiya sensed Xi Tongyue was upset—with her, specifically.

“Xi Tongyue, did something piss you off today?” she ventured.

Xi Tongyue turned, a sardonic half-smile playing on her lips. “One minute it’s all ‘Teacher Xi,’ and now it’s this? What gives?”

Song Guiya blinked, then caught on.

Gu Yuanyuan’s nonstop lecturing during the call had rubbed off on her unconsciously.

Was that what had Xi Tongyue steamed?

“If you don’t like Teacher Xi, I won’t use it,” Song Guiya said softly, her tone coaxing. “Don’t be mad, okay, Xi Tongyue?”

The blunt sweetness threw Xi Tongyue off balance. She neither assented nor objected.

Even so, Song Guiya felt the frost around her thawing, pride keeping it from showing.

She curved her lips. “Convenience store’s that way. I’ll grab some water.”

“Oh, and this is for you.”

Song Guiya fished something from her pocket and held it out.

Xi Tongyue glanced down: a plain black face mask.

So that was the reason for the quick upstairs dash.

Xi Tongyue arched a brow. “Didn’t you say no one’s around here?”

Song Guiya smiled. “Better safe than sorry.”

Seeing Xi Tongyue unwrap the packaging and slip on the mask—revealing a pair of deep, shadowy eyes—Song Guiya pulled on her own mask and headed toward the convenience store.

Once Song Guiya was gone, Xi Tongyue unconsciously furrowed her brow.

Song Guiya’s tone a moment ago had been far too familiar—hardly the way one spoke to a stranger from another world after just a few days together.

The night before, she’d gotten drunk on her way home. Had she let something slip in front of Song Guiya? Later, Song Guiya had come to her room and brought up Chang Fu, clearly testing the waters.

Xi Tongyue had deflected her, of course. But deep down, she knew Song Guiya’s sharp mind meant that if she caught even the slightest clue, there’d be no hiding the truth anymore.

She just hadn’t expected it to come so soon.

Even so, Xi Tongyue couldn’t admit it. She couldn’t confess that she was Da Yin’s Eldest Princess—the Emperor, her sovereign.

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Out here all alone by the river at night, blowing in the wind. Bad mood? Why don’t you let your big brothers cheer you up?”

A foul stench of booze assaulted her nostrils. Xi Tongyue looked up to see a scrawny, sleazy man slinking toward her.

Two burly guys stood behind him, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, clutching beer bottles.

One had tattoos snaking up his arm; the other sported a deep scar slashing across the corner of his eye—like a knife wound.

Their faces were twisted in snarls of menace or malice, each more thuggish than the last. Any ordinary girl would have bolted at the sight of them.

But Xi Tongyue had been lost in thought, and their interruption soured her mood instantly. She eyed the trio like a swarm of buzzing flies.

“Unless you want to be tossed in the river to sober up, get out of my sight.” Her words came light and casual, laced with the effortless command of someone born to rule.

The three loomed over her like mountains, while she sat alone on the bench—yet she was the one who seemed inviolable, the sovereign whose word they dared not defy.

The mask hid Xi Tongyue’s face from the drunks, but in the dim light, they could make out her lithe figure and poised elegance. Her looks were probably nothing to sneeze at either. They’d come over hoping for some fun, and her bold retort only stoked their fire.

Far from scaring them off, Xi Tongyue’s defiance excited the drunks even more.

They’d met tough women before, but never one this ballsy.

“So the lady wants to go swimming with us bros—romantic style? Come on, let’s make a splash together.”

The Sleazy Man leered as he reached to drape an arm around her. But the instant his hand shot out, a sharp “crack” echoed. He shrieked in agony, yanking back his limp, dislocated wrist.

That scream cut through the drunken haze like a knife. His buddies watched him crumple to the ground, wrist dangling uselessly from his arm, flopping side to side. It looked like it hurt like hell.

“You crazy bitch—playing for keeps?”

Scarface shoved the Tattooed Man aside, and both men’s muscles rippled taut beneath their skin.

The Sleazy Man writhed on the pavement, still spitting venom. “Grab her! If I don’t fuck her raw tonight, may I be reborn a goddamn eunuch!”

This time, they were ready. The two circled in from either side.

No matter how formidable Xi Tongyue was, two fists couldn’t match four. The brutes closed in to pin her arms—yet she remained seated on the bench, steady as stone, utterly at ease.

Then, in the next breath, two bottles of mineral water cracked against the backs of Scarface’s and the Tattooed Man’s skulls.

It didn’t knock them out cold, but it rattled them good. Clutching their throbbing heads—veins pulsing—they whipped around to find a woman in a hoodie and matching black mask. God knows when she’d snuck up, but she’d cold-cocked them both.

“Fuck! You dare bushwhack me?” Scarface roared, eyes blazing, his facial scar twisting into something monstrous.

The Tattooed Man stood stone-faced beside him, silent but glaring at Song Guiya with the hungry focus of a wolf on the prowl.

Song Guiya ignored their bellowed threats and strode forward, her presence radiating icy menace. Her eyes gleamed with predatory sharpness—not the cold gleam of steel, but the shrieking gale from some frozen chasm, a chill that burrowed into the bones and set teeth chattering.

Her gaze sliced through the space between the men, locking straight onto Xi Tongyue. The faint smile flickering in those dark eyes eased her worry at last.

If she could smile, she was fine.

Song Guiya sized up the scene in a heartbeat. The worm on the ground was harmless, but these two? Real deal—muscles forged in blood and brawls, solid as iron.

No room for error. With Xi Tongyue safe, she held back, planting herself four or five meters from the bench. She raised a hand and beckoned the drunks with a curl of her fingers.

Pure, brazen taunt.

Scarface and the Tattooed Man spat curses and launched a pair of vicious punches straight at Song Guiya.

The two sides clashed immediately. The men’s strikes were domineering and vicious, aimed squarely at ending her life.

Though Song Guiya was at a disadvantage in raw strength, her mind was sharp, her movements nimble, and she had no shortage of experience in brutal fights. Even taking on two opponents at once, she held her own without falling behind.

Xi Tongyue sat with one leg crossed over the other, her chin propped up in one hand, watching Song Guiya’s fluid steps and strikes with leisurely appreciation. It was just like the old days, back when she’d watch her drilling troops on the Drill Ground.

No one could have imagined that in this peaceful modern society, with its impeccable public safety, they would witness a riverside brawl straight out of an ancient costume drama.

The clerk at a convenience store across the street called the police while filming the entire scene on her phone.

“Hello, I’d like to report a fight! It’s at the South City Riverside Scenic Belt—hurry, come quick!”

“Don’t panic, ma’am. We’re dispatching officers right away. How many people are involved?”

“Three drunk guys and two girls. They’ve smashed bottles everywhere!”

The dispatcher instinctively assumed the girls were being harassed and beaten by the drunks. “How are those two girls doing right now?”

Overcome with excitement, the clerk’s voice trembled. “They’re totally fine! Hurry up, though—if you don’t get here soon, it looks like those guys are about to get tossed into the river!”

Bewildered by her disjointed, almost gleefully bizarre report, the dispatcher asked, “Who’s about to get thrown in the river?”

The clerk replied, “Those three drunks, of course!”

The dispatcher: ???