What Did You Say? Speak Louder?
The crowd's astonished chatter reached Lin Biao's ears.
He shifted uncomfortably on his seat, glancing at Lin Zimo and feeling utterly humiliated. This was the biggest embarrassment of his life.
"Lin Zimo, have you named this piece you created? What's it called?"
Shi Luoyin's fair, delicate face lit up with pure adoration as she gazed at him.
She never imagined Lin Zimo's musical talent was this insane—he'd crafted such a beautiful, captivating melody using nothing but water glasses!
Sure, anyone with a good ear could tap out a tune on glasses, but playing it this well—and composing an original on the fly? He was the first in the world.
Lin Zimo smiled. "This one's called Flower Sea."
"Flower Sea! Perfect name—so fitting! Sounds amazing."
Shi Luoyin stared at him dreamily, instantly transforming into his number-one fangirl, buzzing with excitement.
If this weren't a conference room, she'd be in his lap right now, smothering him with hugs and kisses.
"Flower Sea—brilliant! Lin Zimo, your musical gift is unreal. Luoyin's song is all yours now."
Li Yan's eyes sparkled with thrill, her usual icy professionalism crumbling in an instant.
With over a decade in the industry, she'd seen plenty of prodigies, but a young, handsome, talented one like Lin Zimo? First time ever.
The others who'd opposed him writing for Shi Luoyin chimed in too.
"Li Yan's right—you're a genius, Lin Zimo."
"Sorry, Lin Zimo, we were shallow earlier. Forgive us, yeah?"
"Master Lin Zimo, Luoyin's track is in your hands."
They didn't care about flip-flopping anymore. Lin Zimo was handsome and talented—a future bigshot, not some gigolo they could afford to piss off.
Plus, getting his forgiveness meant he'd write the song, solving their album crisis. Face? Worthless compared to that. A little self-slap was fine.
Lin Zimo eyed their sudden about-face, surprised.
Didn't expect them to wise up so quick—no novel-villain stubbornness, no endless grudge-holding for more slaps.
"Luoyin's my girlfriend. Of course I'll write her a song—no need to beg."
He said it coolly. As her shared perfect boyfriend, nailing this for reviews and rewards was effortless anyway.
The room collectively got stuffed with dog food.
Shi Luoyin's cheeks flushed pink, a sweet, shy smile blooming—blissfully happy.
Lin Zimo was too good at this. These past days had her swimming in sugary romance, even sparking song ideas.
Li Yan stared at his chiseled face, momentarily dazed. A perfect man like him was magnetic.
Then Shi Luoyin turned to Lin Biao, who was pretending nothing happened, her expression turning stern.
"Lin Biao! Lin Zimo proved he's not sabotaging anything. Time for you to apologize for your rudeness."
He was her boyfriend—no way she'd let him take even a sliver of grief in her company.
Her adorably fierce pout made Lin Zimo chuckle inwardly. Too cute.
The others piled on. "Apologize, Lin Biao!"
"Yeah, do it!"
"Think about how rude you were to Master Lin Zimo."
Lin Biao had been Shi Luoyin's bodyguard for three years—a familiar face around here.
But now? Lin Zimo outranked him big time.
Lin Biao seethed under the chorus of demands, face purpling like liver.
Cornered by all those eyes, he caved.
"Lin Zimo, sorry." His usual booming voice was a mosquito squeak.
"What'd you say? Louder!" Shi Luoyin demanded cutely fierce.
His heart shattered. Clenching his fists, he gnashed his teeth and bellowed, eyes bulging.
"Lin Zimo! Sorry! Happy now?!"
"Good." Shi Luoyin nodded, satisfied. She wasn't unreasonable.
Then she blinked her sparkling eyes at Lin Zimo, all I avenged you~.
He ruffled her hair with an amused grin.
Lin Biao watched their intimacy, chest tightening like he couldn't breathe.
Three years guarding her, and he couldn't match days with Lin Zimo.
But it was one-sided. To him, it was silent devotion to his goddess.
To her? He was just a well-paid, reliable bodyguard.
She missed the turmoil in his eyes entirely.
Staring at Lin Zimo's suave smile made Lin Biao's humiliation swell. He shot Shi Luoyin a heartbroken glance, then stormed out head down.
With the album fixed perfectly, everyone dispersed.
Shi Luoyin had more to discuss with Li Yan, so she sent Lin Zimo back to the Ersha Island Villa first.
He needed rest to compose faster, after all.
Lin Zimo offered he could write anytime, but her worried insistence won—he drove back solo.
En route, thirst hit near a convenience store. He stopped for a cold soda.
The midnight street was dead quiet.
Lin Zimo emerged, heading to his car.
Then three burly thugs sauntered up, sticks in hand, reeking of sleaze.
Flashy clothes, tattooed arms, smokes dangling—bad intentions clear as they eyed him arrogantly.
"Yo, pretty boy! Flash ride like that—spot us some cash, bro."
They herded him into a dim alley, no escape.
Lin Zimo stayed calm, figuring his martial skills needed a test. He played along.
The thugs closed in, sticks raised, smirks wicked. "Smart move, pretty boy. Hand over the cash."
His gaze was steel-calm, like a still lake hiding depths.
No cameras around. He exploded forward.
A side kick smashed one's face—he howled, crumpling, clutching it and wailing.
The other two froze at his speed, then lunged fiercer.
Lin Zimo dodged fluidly.
Full-power kick to the baseball bat guy's knee—he crumpled screaming.
Last thug panicked, drew a short knife, stabbing viciously.
Chill flashed in Lin Zimo's eyes. He twisted away effortlessly.
Then a gut kick sent the guy flying a few yards.
They groaned in the dirt. Lin Zimo stood poised, bored.
All his control.
Over in minutes.
His martial prowess crushed these bruisers easy.
He smoothed his cuffs, ready to bounce.
But they scrambled up for a desperate counter.
One hugged his leg; the others flanked from behind.
Caught off-guard, he toppled. Fists rained like a storm.
He twisted free, surged up, fists thundering like lightning, moves whirlwind-fast.
They folded under the onslaught, down for the count.
The trio blanched, arrogance gone, begging terrified.
"Aaaah! Big bro, stop! Sorry, we messed up!"
"If apologies worked, why have cops?" Lin Zimo scoffed.
"Waaah, big bro, forgive us! Old folks and kids at home—had to do it, please!"
Damn liar said the target was a weak pretty boy. Now they were half-dead.
Planned to rob post-beatdown for double dip. Fail.
Lin Zimo sneered. "Yeah, right. You believe that?"
"Young punks skipping school to rob? Life's tough? Sell stinky tofu at a stall—easier cash."
"Big bro! Someone sent us to beat you—not our idea! Mercy!"
His ruthlessness terrified them into spilling.
"Oh? Who?"
Lin Zimo yanked one by the collar, slamming him against the wall.
"Big dude, buff, masked—we couldn't see his face. Told us to trash you, especially the face."
"Especially the face? Prove it's true."
Boss dude froze, then whipped out his phone. "I can prove it! He's nearby, waiting. Call him over."
Screw bro code—the liar started it.
Lin Zimo: "Fine. Tell him you beat me senseless already."
Boss dialed shakily.
Soon, a tall shadow entered the dim alley.
Lin Zimo lurked in the unlit shadows.
A suited, masked man stepped in.
Seeing the "prone" figure, he smirked. "Lin Zimo, just a lesson tonight. Stay away from Shi Luoyin, or next time I break your limbs myself..."
Lin Biao approached.
Car lights swept by—Lin Biao locked eyes with Lin Zimo's icy glare.
Then a blurring straight punch.
"Break my limbs? Try it."
Lin Biao dodged, counter-kicked—missed.
They clashed in savage fury.
"Lin Zimo! You know martial arts? Underestimated you." Lin Biao spat, eye swelling from a hit.
Thought him a pushover—no need for personal touch. Wrong.
The brawl intensified. Lin Biao's form blurred under moonlight, punches like thunder, dizzying speed.
Lin Zimo matched coolly, strikes whistling sharp.
Lin Biao coiled like a dragon, flanking behind.
Lin Zimo spun, neutralizing.
Blurs too fast to track. Power clashed, dust flying, meaty thuds echoing chillingly.
Thugs shivered watching.
Thug A: "Boss, they're brutal! Sneak away?"
Thug B: "Yeah, one punch like that? We'd puke blood."
Boss: "Let's bolt. Outta this—the underworld's vicious. Retiring from the scene tonight, we're done."
Thug A: "Then what, boss?"
Boss: "Night market stall. Stinky tofu."
After fierce exchange, Lin Biao flagged—pale, shaking, staring horrified at Lin Zimo.
How? Skinny pretty boy beating a veteran fighter like him?
Lin Zimo stayed cool, victory assured.
System-cheat chosen one vs. mere bodyguard? No contest.
Lin Biao stumbled—Lin Zimo's haymaker floored him.
Lin Biao clutched his gut in agony. Lin Zimo loomed indifferent.
All as planned.
Real fight honed his skills sharper.
Lin Biao sprawled, realizing the chasm: looks, talent, and his prized martial arts—outclassed.
Lin Zimo returned to Shi Luoyin's villa.
Showered off the fatigue, crashed out.
Next day.
He rose, penned lyrics and scores for Zhou Dong's Flower Sea, Heart Ling's Love You, Zi Qi's Foam.
Noon, Shi Luoyin stirred—late night, long sleep.
Spotting him, she beamed. "Morning, Lin Zimo! No pressure on the songs—take your time."
"No pressure." He grinned, pulling sheets. "Done already."
"What?! You mean... finished?!"
Shi Luoyin froze in shock, wondering if she was dreaming.
Her dazed-cute face cracked him up. "Haha, why so spacey? Check 'em out."
Disbelieving, she pinched her thigh. "Ow—that hurts! Real... not a dream."