Chapter Twelve: Precise Analysis

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Qin Anyi had no idea what kind of shock his actions had just caused in Wang Yiran’s heart. At this moment, Qin Anyi himself was quite dissatisfied with his earlier performance in the fight. At first, he had judged these thugs’ combat abilities based entirely on the assumption that they were unarmed; he hadn’t expected that each of them would be wielding a weapon. As a result, the outcome was far from what he had anticipated. His back and arms had taken several heavy blows from steel pipes. Although he’d managed to avoid any vital areas, the pain from those hits still made him frown, and the other joints in his body ached dully as well.

In the span of a single second, he’d dodged and counterattacked in rapid succession, moving faster than the human eye could register. This was already pushing his physical body beyond its current limits, placing a tremendous and nearly unbearable strain upon him. Outwardly he might appear fine, but Qin Anyi knew the truth: right now, even walking normally was a painful challenge.

“I really overestimated myself…” Qin Anyi shook his head with a wry smile. It had been less than a day since he’d acquired the Kirin AI, and he was still caught up in the thrill and excitement of it all, feeling slightly untouchable, forgetting that by his very nature, he was still just an ordinary person.

“You really are...surprising,” Wang Yiran took two steps closer, and the look in her eyes as she regarded Qin Anyi shifted once more. If she’d only been curious about him when school let out, now that curiosity had turned into a strong and genuine interest. A person who excelled at both brains and brawn to such an extent surely couldn’t be just an ordinary high school student.

“You’re just as surprising,” Qin Anyi grinned suddenly. “I never would have guessed that the school’s number one beauty—the girl every boy dreams about, the one so delicate that anyone would feel compelled to protect her—would turn out to be a taekwondo expert.”

For the first time, a rare flicker of fluster crossed Wang Yiran’s face, but it vanished almost instantly, replaced by her usual calm. She glanced at Qin Anyi coolly, not denying it, and asked instead, “How did you know?”

Her tone was indifferent, a far cry from the casual companionability she’d shown while walking with him earlier. Qin Anyi’s heart skipped a beat; he realized he must have touched on something sensitive. He scratched his head and said, “Let’s walk and talk, shall we? Weren’t we going to have dinner together? This place isn’t the best for conversation—who knows when things might get lively again.”

Wang Yiran nodded, but her demeanor was now tinged with a hint of guardedness. “You still haven’t explained how you knew.”

“Is this really that important to you? If I told you it was all based on analysis of various clues, would you believe me?” Qin Anyi replied, forcing himself to keep pace with her as every step sent sharp pain shooting through his body.

“Believe or not, it depends on your explanation.”

“Alright, first, there was your reaction earlier. You knew those dozen or so thugs meant trouble for me, yet you insisted on coming along. That made me suspicious,” Qin Anyi shrugged. “You’re smart—you know the kind of trouble your looks can bring. Though we’ve gone two years in high school without even a single conversation, I do know you’re very good at protecting yourself and would never let yourself fall into a dangerous situation you couldn’t control. Likewise, even though we’ve been classmates for two years, you know almost nothing about me, so you couldn’t possibly have known I had the ability to take on that many people.”

He snapped his fingers, sneaking a glance at Wang Yiran before continuing, “So, the conclusion is interesting: the only reason you would insist on coming with me was because you didn’t want me to get hurt. That means you were confident you could handle those thugs yourself—and wanted to help me out. Am I right?”

Wang Yiran tilted her head, face unchanged. “Even if you’re right, at most you could deduce that I might have learned some martial arts. There’s no direct link to me being a taekwondo expert.”

Qin Anyi nodded. “True, but your reaction already piqued my suspicion, so I had to think back carefully, retracing our steps as we left the school. Life is full of little details we usually ignore, but sometimes those tiny clues are all you need to discover the truth.”

He licked his lips in a manner almost like a fortune-teller and went on, “It’s common knowledge that every martial art has both a competitive and a practical school. Most competitive fighters treat martial arts as just a sport.”

Qin Anyi flashed another grin and continued, “When we were walking together, the way you swung your arms always protected your mouth and throat. If you didn’t think about it, it would just seem like the reserved posture typical of a well-bred girl. But looking back, your movements were too precise, too economical. At the same time, you always landed on the balls of your feet as you walked, keeping your weight perfectly balanced over one foot at all times—ready at any moment to unleash a kick. Of all the martial arts, only taekwondo’s attack techniques rarely involve the hands; the hands are mostly for defense.”

He raised two fingers, a little smugly. “So, this shows two things: one, you’re a taekwondo expert; and two, you’re of the practical school. Based on all your reactions, I’d say my confidence in this judgment is well over ninety percent.”

Wang Yiran’s expression softened a little, though the amazement in her eyes only intensified. Before she could respond, Qin Anyi went on in admiration, “But honestly, it’s astonishing. Judging by the amplitude of your arm swings and the time intervals as you shifted your weight from leg to leg, I’d estimate your first response speed is about one hundred and fifty milliseconds—over twice as fast as the average person. You’re only eighteen; how did you train to reach this level?”

Wang Yiran stopped in her tracks as if struck by lightning, turning her head sharply, her face unable to maintain its former composure as she stared at Qin Anyi in shock. Because the reaction time he quoted was accurate—she’d had it measured with professional instruments before, and on her best attempts, she’d indeed reached a reaction speed of one hundred and fifty milliseconds. But that was a number obtained through specialized equipment—Qin Anyi had only used his eyes, and yet he’d come up with the same result as a precision instrument? Was that even humanly possible? And then there was the rest of his analysis—what on earth was going on in this guy’s head? He even looked astonished, but shouldn’t she be the one who was shocked?

Wang Yiran rolled her eyes, bit her lip, and said, “Let’s find a quiet place to eat and talk. There’s a porridge shop nearby that’s pretty good. What do you think?”

“I’ve no objection.”