"What do you mean?"
Qiu Yihe shot Jiang Cheng a puzzled look.
At that moment sunlight slanted through the restroom's louvers.
It scattered into tiny shards of light across Jiang Cheng's chiselled profile.
A faint smile played at the corner of his mouth, and danger glimmered with seduction in his deep eyes.
The sight made Qiu Yihe's body tremble on instinct.
Because in Jiang Cheng's gaze she saw the look of a hunter.
Following his eyes downward, she finally realized her shoulder-strap had snapped completely; black lace lay crooked against her collar-bone.
Qiu Yihe hastily folded her arms over her chest and tried to bolt through the door.
But Jiang Cheng's powerful frame blocked the entrance, immovable.
"In a rush, Officer Qiu…?"
His voice was low and attractive, tinged with lazy magnetism, warm breath brushing her ear.
"You let me stare so long at something that could give me eye-strain; now it's only fair I let you have a look at mine…"
"Ahh—you pervert—"
Qiu Yihe's protest was quickly swallowed.
A dozen minutes later Qiu Yihe thoroughly understood the meaning of "seeing something through to the end."
She sat on the toilet lid, eyes vacant, watching Jiang Cheng calmly adjust his cuffs.
Long fingers fastened his watch with unhurried grace.
As he lowered his head to knot his tie he looked every inch a gentleman, nothing of the earlier wildness left.
"Next time you need help, just call me."
Jiang Cheng murmured the words into her ear with a soft laugh.
Only after he strolled out, tugging his trousers without a care, did Qiu Yihe finally react.
Legs weak, she braced herself against the cubicle wall and stood.
She spat toward the direction he had left.
Outside, Jiang Cheng glanced toward the restroom entrance.
Two groups were clearly facing off there.
On one side Wang Sheng led several Bodyguards; on the other were the sushi-shop staff Qiu Yihe had wanted to approach.
In the middle stood a middle-aged woman in a black business suit.
Her permed wool-curl hair looked rather dated.
Yet the ends were carefully streaked with purple.
The tint echoed the colour of the polish on her fingernails.
It gave a subtle sense of discord.
A cigarette in hand, she took a languid drag.
When she heard Jiang Cheng's footsteps she finally turned her face.
A teardrop mole marked the outer corner of her left eye; it twisted slightly with her expression, like a raisin stuck to the skin.
Her eyes sized Jiang Cheng up in a peculiar way.
First they flicked to the Patek Philippe on his wrist.
Only then did she begin a slow, deliberate appraisal of him.
Seeing Jiang Cheng appear, the two men Wang Sheng had beaten black-and-blue immediately covered their faces and complained to the woman: "Sister Liu Li."
The moment thai language came out, Liu Li shot them a vicious glare.
That look made the man shudder; he seemed too frightened to speak.
When he slipped up, the other man quickly switched to Mandarin: "Sister Liu Li, he's the one who had us beaten. We found someone sneaking around the toilet and just asked him to come out—then he set his men on us."
After washing his hands Jiang Cheng flicked the water off, took a paper towel, and strolled out unhurriedly.
Liu Li studied him while puffing on her cigarette.
Jiang Cheng said nothing.
He swept his gaze over the confronting crowd, eyes sharp as blades yet languid.
With a casual flip he tossed the paper towel into the bin—clean, neat.
Then he walked straight up to the man who had pointed at him.
And kicked him without warning.
With his professional combat skills and the man completely off guard,
the guy was instantly sent flying.
The sudden move made Liu Li freeze for a split second.
But Jiang Cheng was fast; after launching the first, he spun and felled the other with a chain kick.
Only after both men were down did the thug-looking fellows beside Liu Li react.
As they moved to act, Wang Sheng and his men stepped forward.
Their killing intent flared, forcing the opposite side to hesitate.
Both groups puffed out their chests, glaring, waiting for their bosses' signal.
Liu Li frowned, eyes fixed on Jiang Cheng.
When she lifted a hand to signal her men to back off,
her green jade bangle clacked against the bone of her wrist.
It was the "souvenir" she had bought ten years ago with her first drug profit.
Inside it was carved with a Thai sutra.
She had already realised on the way over that Jiang Cheng was no ordinary customer.
After all, who walks around with so many private Bodyguards?
Yet the instant she saw him she had taken him for just another rich Second-generation rich kid.
His age made that obvious.
In Chengdu it's hardly rare for a Second-generation rich brat to parade with guards.
What she hadn't expected was how wild he would be.
"Damn it—you've ruined my mood,"
Jiang Cheng said, charming smile still in place, long fingers casually adjusting a cuff-link.
As though the violence just now had been no more than flicking off dust.
At this moment he looked utterly relaxed, an elegant leopard patrolling its turf—dangerous, magnetic.
In fact Jiang Cheng was deliberately playing the part of a dissolute Second-generation rich.
He could have avoided doing the dirty work himself.
But after thinking it over, what was a rich kid his age if not arrogant, brash and impulsive?
The flashier he acted, the safer Qiu Yihe's undercover role would be.
Although he had just said she wasn't suited for field work,
he still held deep respect for those in such a perilous profession as Qiu Yihe's.
According to Jiang Cheng's earlier words, with Qiu Yihe's family background
she could easily have taken a cushy post in Kyoto—or anywhere else—to enjoy life.
Seeing her tremble with nerves moments ago gave Jiang Cheng a deeper appreciation of these quiet, extraordinary sacrifices.
So, even if he didn't fully understand, he respected it.
Liu Li's pupils tightened as she watched him fiddle with the cuff-links.
She had seen those sapphire ones in a Sotheby's catalogue—sold last year for 2.8 million Hong Kong dollars.
What unsettled her more was that after those two lightning kicks
his breathing was as calm as if he were out for a stroll.