What the hell, you think I can't handle you?

"Wang Wanju!"
"Where did these two utter fools crawl out from?"

The sourness in the bridge of her nose and the blocked sensation in her chest paused abruptly.

The receptionist, Wang Wanju, and those two absolute fools all turned their heads to look.

Human perceptions of one another vary, and at this moment, that truth was vividly illustrated.

The receptionist had interacted with Li Yan the earliest.
Her mental tags for him were: clean and handsome, a high-quality rich second-generation heir, quite polite, and rather good-natured.
The first two didn't amount to much, but the latter two tags could perhaps only be considered true virtues when possessed by the wealthy.
After all, politeness and kindness, when found in a poor person, are scarcely worth mentioning.

At this moment, as the receptionist watched Li Yan walk over and heard those two sentences uttered, even though she had never been one to shy away from such trouble, a warm current of being supported nevertheless welled up inside her.
No matter how sharp-tongued a girl might be, she was still a girl, and in a situation like this, the presence of a man made a world of difference.

Wang Wanju had only known Li Yan for a mere two days.
On the first day, she became a group admin for Li Yan's QQ group, receiving a two-hundred-yuan red envelope as her part-time pay.
On the second day, she bumped into Li Yan by chance and drank his milk tea. It was the first time Wang Wanju had ever encountered someone who communicated with such effortless naturalness.
It was as if he harbored no untoward intentions toward her whatsoever—well, or perhaps Li Yan was simply deep, hiding it well...

The choked feeling in her chest and the sourness in her nose caused Wang Wanju to recall a classic movie scene at that exact moment.
*'My destined hero is a peerless champion, and one day he will arrive on a colorful auspicious cloud to marry me...'*
It was perhaps not entirely appropriate, but for reasons unknown, that was the exact image that flashed through Wang Wanju's mind.

Some say the path to a woman's heart is through her stomach, others say it is through money, and countless other specious and absurd theories exist.
Yet Li Yan held to a different conviction: that the beginning of many romances springs from an instantaneous impression and a sudden touch of emotion.

Wang Wanju pursed her lips as she watched Li Yan approach. The evening twilight streamed through the glass doors of the tutoring center from the street.
The warm orange glow cast a shadow, framing Li Yan from behind.
Could that be the colorful auspicious cloud?

For the first time, this young man left a profound impression deep within Wang Wanju's heart—a heart that had long grown jaded amidst countless bizarre or wildly romantic pursuits she had already experienced.
Time and fate; romance is simply devoid of logic.
Perhaps you might bitterly pursue a woman for three or five years, yet fail to compare to a fleeting figure on a dusk-lit evening.

Wang Wanju felt the bridge of her nose grow even more sour, though she knew not why.
In a bustling, towering metropolis like Chengdu, which did not belong to her and where she felt utterly out of place, there had suddenly appeared a young man who—though calling him a "support" might not be entirely accurate—somehow felt like one?

Though recounting these psychological activities takes some time, in reality, it all transpired in a mere fraction of a second.

Li Yan approached the two greasy middle-aged men standing by the reception desk.
The bald one looked to be around thirty-seven or thirty-eight, while the one with a belly like an eight-month pregnancy looked to be in his forties.
The grease was in their demeanor, not their age or appearance.
Li Yan had seen middle-aged men who, despite being bald or possessing even larger bellies, naturally radiated an air of confidence, dominance, and crisp vitality.
The two fools before him clearly did not belong to that category.

The pot-bellied middle-aged man, addressed as "Brother Li," was extremely annoyed upon hearing the words, "Where did these two utter fools crawl out from?" ringing in his ears.
He turned his head to look, finding a tall young man—tall, at least, relative to himself.
Li Yan stood at a barefoot height of 1.77 meters, pushing 1.78 meters or more with shoes on.
Recently, he had maintained a daily morning jogging routine, and his diet remained as nutritious and costly as ever.
Even without the blessing of any system, a teenager's height at this age is prone to sudden spurts at any moment.
Coupled with unremitting physical training—push-ups and sit-ups invariably accompanying his morning runs—the muscles on the arms of the young man striding toward them were clearly defined beneath his short-sleeved shirt.

Chest out, head held high, and gazing down slightly at the greasy duo with narrowed eyes, Li Yan's sheer presence instantly suppressed the two men, leaving them momentarily speechless.
Of course, anyone with even an ounce of brainpower wouldn't pull such stunts; clearly, these two lacked any semblance of brains.
Therefore, finding themselves watched by two young girls—especially the one whose beauty was beyond compare—even these middle-aged men felt a spark of anger flare up within them.

"Who the fuck are you calling an utter fool, you little punk?"
The pot-bellied man, dubbed Brother Li, was flustered and exasperated. Meanwhile, the bald man beside him, who looked like a lackey, sized up the newcomer.
"Where'd this little brat come from? Get lost!"

Li Yan looked down rather condescendingly at the two swine-like middle-aged men before him, his thoughts involuntarily wandering.
*'If this were developing like a standard divine-tycoon web novel... shouldn't I be pulling out stacks of cash to smash them right now? Tsk tsk.'*
One had to admit Li Yan's mind was rather scattered; even at a time like this, he still had the bandwidth for wild daydreams.

Li Yan had been admitted to Sichuan University, naturally because he was good at studying.
However, being good at studying did not mean he was a model student...
The title of "Brother Yan" during his high school days was certainly not earned merely by having money.
They were all damn seventeen- or eighteen-year-old boys, right at the prime of their youthful vigor; who cared if you had money?
Money was useless!
On the contrary, if someone possessed a cowardly personality, having money would only be a nightmare!

Li Yan's high school did not enforce uniforms; from this single detail alone, those in the know could probably guess whether the school administration was strict or lax.
In the flush of youthful vigor, when teenagers feared neither heaven nor earth, would they resort to fighting?
Most certainly.
Where the moniker "Brother Yan" came from was thus abundantly clear.

Li Yan had never been a bookworm, nor had he ever been a goody-two-shoes.

"Come on, you two fools, step outside and let's have a chat by the side..."

Li Yan had visited this tutoring center twice, and he had noticed a small alley nearby with a large dumpster.
As for why he noticed it—he had simply seen someone tossing garbage over that way while heading home yesterday.
And what was the most important detail of all?
There were no security cameras...

The progression of events caught the receptionist and Wang Wanju somewhat off guard.
Class was currently in session, and the front desk was manned by only Wang Wanju and the receptionist. Logically speaking, when faced with such trouble, the receptionist ought to have called out their own staff to help.
Yet these two greasy men had come under the banner of inquiring about courses; things hadn't quite escalated to that point yet.

Neither Wang Wanju nor the receptionist had yet reacted to the impending storm, as this was the first time either of them had encountered such a situation.
As the bald man standing next to the pot-bellied "Brother Li" was about to trade a few verbal blows with the youngster, the pot-bellied "Brother Li" glanced back at Wang Wanju.
spurred on by a touch of afternoon alcohol,
as a man—albeit a middle-aged one—his lingering shreds of machismo and the psychological urge to teach this punk a lesson took over,
not to mention the fact that a beauty was watching from right behind him!

"You fucking punk, nobody can teach you a lesson, huh?"

With that, under Li Yan's half-smiling gaze, he followed him outside.