Chapter 111

After resting for half an hour, although her chest still felt quite uncomfortable, her legs at least no longer felt like jelly. Rong Qing gathered her hair into a ponytail and marched toward the training ground, brimming with fighting spirit.

Since this was not professional combat training, the requirements for the five major techniques were not overly strict for them. As Director Evans had stated, the goal was to cultivate a sense of combat intent and presence. The instructor was a professional American soldier; looking at his bulging muscles that looked like small mountains, his tall and robust frame casting a shadow that completely engulfed her, Rong Qing felt her eyelids twitch.

On the American training ground, the official language was used for all communication. Fortunately, her foundation was decent, and the atmosphere between the two remained good after several rounds. Compared to these tall, ferocious beasts, Rong Qing’s figure was naturally petite and delicate. She specifically chose two nunchucks for their sparring session.

*Bang!* The American soldier swung his staff down. Rong Qing found it difficult to even support her arms against the blow. The raw, murderous aura and pressure released by someone who had spent years fighting in real battlefields made her scalp tingle as if she were being flayed. With his bamboo staff right before her eyes, she had a fleeting illusion that this man could take her life at any moment. Such a terrifying aura—it was truly different from the ordinary martial artists she had encountered during auditions.

"Ah!" Rong Qing tried her best to create distance. Being stared down by a beast was no pleasant experience, and the thick scent of bloodlust made her limbs numb. However, her stubborn nature drove her to resist, and she managed to block countless thunderous strikes from the bamboo staff.

Having gauged her limits, the man no longer felt like playing games. With rapid movement and relentless strikes, he easily disarmed her of her nunchucks, then lunged forward until his bamboo staff rested against her waist.

In an instant, her legs finally gave out, and she collapsed. Rong Qing looked at her reddened palms; the lingering force of the impact still made them tingle. She gasped for air, her fair face marked by a bitter yet resilient smile.

"Go on!" The beauty tossed the bamboo staff at her feet. The soldier's robust and towering figure looked so powerful, yet so unreachable.

Rong Qing gritted her teeth, performed a kip-up to get to her feet, brushed off the dirt, and picked up the bamboo staff again, striking a pose that actually looked quite decent. "Ah—!" Holding her breath and feeling the spark of determination in her heart, she rushed toward the soldier with the staff. Even if that bloodthirsty, powerful aura filled her with fear, and even if the gap between them was as vast as heaven and earth, she would rather launch a desperate attack than sit and wait for defeat.

Before she could even reach him, *bang*—it was clean and efficient; she was disarmed once more. Looking at her empty hands, she rubbed her chin dryly. Well, blind, impulsive actions were indeed unreliable...

Director Evans squinted his eyes, watching the scene from the sidelines where he sat resting, looking content and pleased. He wore headphones, but that didn't stop his eyes from brimming with delight.

"Old friend, we're set to start filming at the beginning of the month. This Chinese girl has given me so many surprises." Evans’ tone was full of admiration. For such a formidable American director to say this was no small matter.

"Hmph, next month? It’s already mid-month; you must be joking. I’m telling you, you better not push my treasure too hard. If she loses weight or gets hurt, I will tear down your sanctimonious company!" The person on the other end had a fiery temper. However, the joy in his voice was unmistakable. Very few people ever caught the eye of his old friend, let alone a Chinese person facing the pressures of the American industry!

"Rest assured. It would be a waste to keep such a talented seedling in the country; she belongs on a bigger stage. No one can stop her from blooming in all her glory." Evans secretly decided to bring Rong Qing into his inner circle. He was confident that working with this girl would lead to a masterpiece that would amaze the world. Yet, how things change; when the world eventually marveled at this superstar, it was only to witness the tragic fall of such a brilliant star.

"Fine, treat her well. Her net worth is no lower than yours," Wang Zhang said leisurely before hanging up the phone.

"Oh?" A playful light flickered in Evans’ eyes. He was a world-renowned director with a net worth in the hundreds of millions. If she was even wealthier than him, what kind of person was she, possessing such vast assets and status, yet willing to freeze and suffer in this land of ice and snow? He shook his head; clearly, the way the Chinese thought was different from his own.

After five full hours, the training ended. Rong Qing dragged her heavy feet and sore arms back to the hotel. Seeing the comfortable, soft bed, she closed her eyes and collapsed straight onto it. She finally realized her husband’s decision was right. Buried in the soft pillows, she thought to herself: If it had been a hard wooden bed, God, how much it would have hurt to fall like that!

*Ring, ring, ring...* "Ugh!" Rong Qing shoved a pillow over her ear. Her entire body was stiff and sore; she had no strength to answer any phone! Unfortunately, the caller’s strong will kept the phone buzzing incessantly. After the third attempt, Rong Qing couldn't take it anymore. She threw the pillow aside in defeat and crawled to the head of the bed to answer.

"Qing, why didn't you answer?" Sure enough, the man's tender voice came through, and the concern in his tone warmed her heart. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"I'm fine, just a little tired. I just got back from training." Rong Qing fought back the urge to cry. If she complained about pain or exhaustion now, it would only make him worry more, and she couldn't give up this job.

As expected, Huo Lingtian’s brows furrowed, and his pen paused mid-signature. He looked at the clock in his office—past eight o'clock? The training must be incredibly intense and demanding. His "baby" must be suffering, and her voice sounded so listless. His heart ached with a sharp, sour pain.

"Baby, use a hot towel to soothe your muscles. Don't be lazy, or you'll be even sorer tomorrow. There are some salves for bruises and pain in your bag; keep them with you. Just get through today, and I’ll have a masseur sent over tomorrow. Be a good girl, it’s good for your body," Huo Lingtian instructed with meticulous care.

Rong Qing swallowed her words, tears streaming down her face. She was no longer strong in front of this man; she was soft and vulnerable. She steadied her emotions and gave a faint hum.

"Alright, get some rest now. It breaks my heart to know you're so tired," Huo Lingtian said gently, trying to usher her to sleep. Hearing her weak voice, he could barely contain his own turbulent emotions.

After the line went dead, Huo Lingtian looked out at the brightly lit city. Born at the pinnacle of the social pyramid, the bustling prosperity outside and the thrill of looking down upon the world could not fill the emptiness in his heart. Without Rong Qing, his mansion was just a cold, empty shell; his business empire, without a lady of the house, was nothing but a cold, dirty transaction. Over the past year, Rong Qing’s devoted companionship and the little bits of tenderness had permeated every aspect of his life. There had been someone watching him gently from the side of the bed, someone tying his tie, someone feeding him the food he didn't like. The warmth and happiness of sleeping in each other's arms were gone, and he felt a chilling coldness without her presence. It was lonely at the top, and he found he could not bear this solitude. He had once attained the whole world—how could he ever endure the loss of his greatest warmth?

Rong Qing’s training in America proceeded in an orderly fashion. Beyond the grueling initial days, she gradually adapted to this life. Amidst the howling winds and snow-covered mountains, she could even manage a 10,000-meter run. Her calves grew firmer, her body became lighter, and she felt healthier.

To keep up with the instructor's combat pace, Rong Qing practiced arm strength every night, and within ten days, it began to show results. Beyond a sturdier physique, her skin grew more elastic. The training didn't burden her figure; instead, it imbued her with youthful vitality and an athletic, aesthetic beauty.

Because the role required real, hand-to-hand combat, all the bamboo staves were replaced with unsharpened swords during recent training sessions. When the heavy spine of the blade struck her, Rong Qing couldn't help but groan. It hurt like hell!

Wearing a tight black leather outfit, her perfect figure was fully revealed. Her gaze was sharp, carrying an overbearing, murderous intent. She gripped the sword with both hands, fighting against the wind. In that moment, Evans felt she was a warrior from the primeval age, radiating the kingly aura that commanded submission.

In recent sparring, she had gradually mastered the essentials: how to strike effectively amidst complex maneuvers, using the simplest and most efficient attacks to save energy while inflicting the greatest damage. This all stemmed from her developing ability to perceive danger and react instantly.

She knew that against the powerful professional soldier before her, winning was impossible. She could only resist tenaciously and prolong the match. *Bang!* When the metal clashed, she was no longer a helpless weakling. She quickly adjusted her posture and welcomed his next close-quarters attack. Beads of sweat covered her forehead, her eyes tracking his every move. He was so fast. As his blade struck, her body reacted instinctively. *Bang!* She slid several meters away.

She had never realized how powerful this man was. His swift speed, lightning-fast counter-attacks, and immense strength almost suppressed all her movements. Rong Qing gritted her teeth, her feet responding in kind.

*Bang... bang-bang.* Continuous attacks. Even on the verge of collapse, Rong Qing held on with stubborn tenacity. Unknowingly, she had "survived" against the man for five full minutes—a fact that was as objective as it was shocking.

"Alright, stop." Seeing that Rong Qing was exhausted and could no longer withstand the man's onslaught, Evans signaled him to stop.

The tip of the blade stopped just inches away from her. The American soldier’s eyes held a look of reluctance. This battle had been a great encouragement for Rong Qing, but for a man trained as a special forces operative, it felt like a great humiliation. To have his combat interest piqued by this young girl only to be forced to stop—it felt damn frustrating.

***

Side note: Happy Mid-Autumn Festival, everyone.