Mu Ting yawned as he rubbed his eyes, not aware of the woman standing a few meters away from him. He had just woken up and wanted to grab something to drink until the light blinded him and it was then he realized someone was in his home.

His guard went up and upon seeing it was a woman, his lips thinned. "Who are you?" God damn it, was it a stalker fan?! How did she break in?!

He gave her a look over and was actually impressed by what he saw. She was on the thinner side, but the dress she was wearing did wonders to her small curves. Dressed in a long-sleeved, body hugging little black dress which enhanced her long legs, petite frame, and the mature vibe she eluded. He liked what he saw.

"I should be asking you that." She placed a hand on her hips, glaring at him.

Mu Ting blinked. What a feisty little thing.

This was the first time someone did not recognize him, or perhaps she did, but was pretending not to. His eyes lingered on her exposed legs, the white flesh beckoning his touch. She was beautiful in a very independent-type of way. A strong woman who would give him a challenge. He licked his lips. It would be fun chasing her.

"Me? Well, darling, I'm Mr. Right." He winked, running a hand through his hair, his handsome face flashed with mischief as a smirk danced on his lips.

Zhao Lifei curled her lips in disgust. What a sleaze bag. She could not believe Yang Ruqin invited such trash into her home. Besides, was this man not afraid she would go to the media and reveal his disgusting ways?

"How stupid are you?" She scoffed, crossing her arms and dropping it when his eyes flew straight to her propped-up chest.

"Look any longer and I'll—"

"What? Gouge out my eyes? Stab them? I've heard it all before, sweetcheeks." Just as he took a step closer to her, she bent down, grabbed a bottle and broke it on the coffee table, creating a weapon.

"Alright, listen here buddy, you have five seconds to scram before blood is spilled." She did not have time for games. She needed to know what happened to her Qinqin.

This alcoholic behavior was very unusual, especially because Qinqin was horrible at holding her liquor, much less have lungs strong enough to smoke. She was a sickly child growing up and was diagnosed with asthma. To this day, she had not healed from it.

Mu Ting held his hands up in a joking manner. He was seriously intrigued by this girl. Hot and badass, he liked that.

"Woah there, cupcake, calm down."

"Where's Yang Ruqin?" She pressed her lips together, inching her way towards the front door. She could tell he was watching her every move.

"Ruqin? You know her?" His brows furrowed together, a shadow replacing his friendly face. "She's...asleep right now."

Zhao Lifei did not know why but the way he said those words gave her the shivers. Asleep? It was twelve in the afternoon, her Qinqin would never sleep that long. She knew something was off when the curtains were closed so tightly, especially when she was an early bird.

Zhao Lifei had made her way to her purse where she grabbed her phone.

"What are you doing? If you take a picture, I swear—"

Zhao Lifei called Yang Ruqin. Three seconds pass and the familiar ringtone could be faintly heard in the bedroom. She was home.

"Out of my way, bastard." She snarled, taking her bag and glass bottle with her as she stormed her way into Yang Ruqin's bedroom.

"Hey, hey, I don't think so." He blocked her path, his face becoming more serious now.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" She hissed, angered that he even laid his hands on her.

"Her boyfriend. Now get the fuck out before I call security." He snarled, grabbing her wrist when she swung the bottle at him. "If I were you, I'd leave while I'm still being nice."

When she suddenly laughed, he was surprised. Her laughter was cruel, cold-blooded, and a little bit crazy.

"News flash, asshole, I'm her best friend." She snarled and in a flash, brought her knees up to his groin, kneeing him hard. He sputtered, collapsing onto the floor, grabbing his precious gems.

Zhao Lifei swung open the door to Yang Ruqin's room and turned on the light. A thirst for blood had risen.

Slumped on the floor, completely unconscious was Yang Ruqin, whose wildly messy hair covered her face. But that was not the part that angered her. It was her outfit. It was shredded and torn, demonstrating there was obvious signs of a struggle.

This scene, it was all too familiar.

Zhao Lifei could feel her world crashing before her, her body shaking with how angry she was. There were bruises on Yang Ruqin, going from her legs all the way to her arms. She was green, blue, purple, and all shades of damaged. Someone had hurt her Qinqin, and that someone would pay.

She swung around, just as Mu Ting grabbed her. "How dare you—"

"I'm going to kill you." She seethed and with lightning speed, swung her fist only for it to be caught.

"A feisty one aren't you?" He hissed before yanking her forward with the fist caught in his arms. He raised his arms to smack her, but she was faster. She kicked at his groin again, but he side-stepped her.

"I don't think so." He tutted at her, before bringing his hand down.

PAK!

The sound rang throughout the room.

THUD!

Mu Ting had hook punched her in the face in an attempt to daze her, sending her face flying to the right. She grabbed her cheek, stunned for a half second before her body moved on its own.

Originally, he didn't take her too seriously, thus, did not use a lot of strength to hit her. He thought the two rough hits would be enough to subdue this wild cat and momentarily dropped his guard. This was his first mistake, for she rallied back faster than anticipated.

Abruptly, she took the arm grabbing her shoulder and in a swift and precise motion as she entered a flow state, twisted it behind his back, her body swiveling around before his other arm could grab her.

"Fuck!" He hissed when his arm was suddenly twisted into an unruly position. He screamed when she pressed harder.

CRACK!

She broke his arm, but she did not stop there. He was weak.

It took one broken arm for him to lose the desire to battle. She expected more from him. She sent a rough kick into the back of his right knee to send him to the floor, grabbing the closest thing she could find and then swinging it hard into his upper legs and thighs.

Another scream left his mouth, resembling that of a pig being slaughtered.

"Not the face—" Too late. She then repeatedly smashed it down onto his face until she finally heard the satisfying crack of his broken nose.

She grabbed his hair, yanking it back to reveal his neck as her hand reached for the broken bottle on the floor. All of this took less than three minutes.

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