Chapter 2: Applying for the Bodyguard Position

Jianghuai City, Global Tower.

Tianya Group ranked among the top five hundred enterprises in the country, with interests stretching across IT, finance, apparel, real estate, and more—a classic example of a diversified conglomerate.

Rumor had it that the president of Tianya Group was an icy beauty, stunning as a glacier, only twenty-five years old and still unmarried. Thus, whenever Tianya Group announced a recruitment drive, it became a beacon for aspiring men everywhere. As for the truth of these rumors, no one could say for sure.

But last week, an event shook Jianghuai City to its core. During an inspection of one of her factories, the Ice Queen herself, Li Ruo, was shot. The incident sent ripples through the city, spawning countless versions of the story. No matter the truth, the company turned its focus sharply toward Li Ruo’s personal safety.

The original security team was dismissed, and Tianya Group began recruiting bodyguards on-site at Global Tower. The requirements were strict: at least three years of military service, holding the rank of squad leader or above, proficiency with all types of weapons and vehicles, special forces experience preferred.

A long line wound through the lobby of Global Tower, with a few men in camouflage scattered among the crowd. The queue was a mix of postures—some stood lazily with their luggage, others at rigid attention, eyes sharp as blades.

“Make way! Please, let me through!” Ye Chen hurriedly darted into the throng, glancing nervously behind him as if someone was on his tail—someone like Yao Yue, who seemed ominously close.

“What the hell are you doing?” The crowd was thrown into disarray by Ye Chen’s sudden charge. The discipline among the soldiers was already questionable, and this disruption stoked their tempers. “Hey, kid! Queue up like everyone else!”

“Shut your damn mouth!” Ye Chen barked over his shoulder, his gaze flashing with a deadly chill.

Instantly, the crowd fell silent. Though many wore military garb, most were little more than paper soldiers, never having faced real combat. Ye Chen was different—he’d survived the Golden Triangle, a place where to live a day was sheer luck, a month required strength, and a year meant you were anything but ordinary.

He’d spent a year undercover there, only to flee after a certain incident—one year on the run had etched a palpable aura of danger into his very being.

The others sensed that this tracksuit-clad man was not to be provoked. They quickly fell into line, obediently taking up their places as Ye Chen slipped inside the building.

“Hey, you! What are you doing?” At the entrance, a man in black, dark sunglasses perched on his nose, blocked Ye Chen’s way with an outstretched arm. “Queue up! Don’t you know interviews are still going on inside?”

“Uh…” Ye Chen blinked, glancing back at the line. So these people were here for interviews? He was about to leave when he caught sight of Yao Yue’s silhouette drawing near. He immediately turned back, standing quietly in place.

“Where did he go?” Yao Yue’s muttering drifted clearly to Ye Chen’s ears. Clutching his chest, Ye Chen sketched a cross over his heart, whispering, “Holy Father, Holy Son, Holy Mother, please protect me. Amen!”

A man in military uniform exited the building, head bowed in defeat—a failed interview, clearly. The sight only spurred the waiting applicants to greater determination.

“You, get inside!” A burly man grabbed Ye Chen, ushering him in. “You’ve got all your documents ready, right?”

Ye Chen nodded quickly, though in truth he hadn’t the faintest idea what was required. With an enemy at his back, he had no choice but to forge ahead.

“New guy, show your ID, military ID, permit, and IQ certificate…” At a coffee-colored desk sat a rotund middle-aged man, his beady eyes darting over Ye Chen. Noting the knock-off Adidas tracksuit, the man snorted, eyes rolling disdainfully toward the ceiling.

Ye Chen ignored him and headed further inside.

“Hey, kid! Where do you think you’re going? You haven’t shown your documents!” The fat man heaved himself up, his bulk quivering, clothing rippling in sync.

“Why do I need an IQ certificate for this job?” Ye Chen stared at him in disbelief.

“Working for President Li, you need brains!” The fat man grinned, his two large front teeth gleaming. “But if you don’t have one, we can test you on the spot, no problem…”

As he spoke, his thumb and forefinger rubbed together suggestively.

Ye Chen’s eyes lit up. He leaned in and whispered, “Brother, how much does it take?”

“Not much—one thousand and I’ll guarantee your IQ is two hundred!” The fat man’s face lit up, eyes gleaming as his fingers worked faster.

“Any discount? Just enough to pass?” Ye Chen asked anxiously, worried that Yao Yue might spot him at the entrance.

The fat man eyed him up and down. “Five hundred—one hundred and one, just passing.”

Ye Chen groaned inwardly—he barely had three hundred to his name. No way could he afford an IQ test fee. Was he about to be thrown out? “Brother, how about two hundred for a simple test?”

The fat man’s hand shot out, snatching the bills from Ye Chen and holding them up to the light. Satisfied, he nodded and raised three fingers. “What’s the main difference between Shakyamuni and Jesus?”

Ye Chen grinned. “Easy—their hair: one with big curls, one with small.”

He scurried inside, leaving the fat man puzzled, scratching his head. “Wait, aren’t Shakyamuni and Jesus the same person? What difference?”

A muffled laugh nearly made Ye Chen stumble.

Turning left from the lobby, Ye Chen pushed open a door of dark wood. Inside was a spacious gym, fully equipped with fighting apparatus. At three o’clock stood a row of men in black suits—classic Armani, mirrored sunglasses, buzz cuts, low-frequency earpieces clipped to their ears.

“Are you applicant number thirty-three?” A cold voice called from the left.

Ye Chen turned, and was instantly stunned. Seated at the center of the table was a woman whose icy beauty took his breath away—she was as cold and dazzling as a glacier. Her eyes flashed twin blades of frost. Her tailored business suit accentuated her graceful curves and delicate skin, almost luminous as if bathed in milk, pure and flawless. This must be the interviewer, Ye Chen guessed.

“That’s me!” Ye Chen snapped to attention, locking eyes with the frosty beauty.

“Number thirty-three, what makes you qualified to be a bodyguard?” she asked, brows slightly arched.

“Wits, courage, responsibility!” Ye Chen replied without a moment’s hesitation.

She was taken aback by his swift response and nodded slightly. “If your employer faces a mortal threat, what will you do?”

“I will defend my duties as a bodyguard with my life!” Ye Chen’s brows furrowed, his face grave and solemn—though in truth he was only worried about Yao Yue waiting outside. As the saying goes: Why are my eyes always brimming with tears? Because I’m always acting so deep.

Li Ruo was more than satisfied with Ye Chen. Of all the candidates she’d seen so far, he left the strongest impression. “Your name?” she asked.

“Ye Chen. Twenty-six. No formal military service, but I’m tough,” he replied with a quick introduction.

The woman frowned. No military background—how did he get this far? “Proceed to the next test,” she said.

A burly man in black led Ye Chen to the center of the room, tossing him protective gear and gloves. “Last five minutes against the four of us, and you pass.”

“Seriously? Four of you?” Ye Chen stared at the approaching men. At just over six feet, Ye Chen was tall, but these men were all at least a head taller.

“Begin!” The leader stepped forward, launching a roundhouse kick.

Ye Chen cursed inwardly and dodged. He might not have been the strongest fighter, but his evasive skills were unmatched—perfected by both his past work and a year of relentless pursuit by Yao Yue.

As he evaded the first attack, three other burly men closed in from behind, striking almost simultaneously.