One should not have the intent to harm others, but must always remain vigilant against harm from others.

- Chinese proverb

Sandra deeply regretted her decision. The person she had been trying to avoid at all costs—why on earth had she lost her mind and invited Arden to be her model?

It was just that April had abruptly resigned two weeks ago, suddenly announcing that she would never work as a model again. Sandra could have managed with plaster statues or found someone else—anything would have been better than turning to him.

It was just that she felt she owed him money. If he had simply named an amount, she would have paid it back; everything would have been fine. Why had she pretended to be kind and introduced him to a job?

It was just that his shameless attitude that tempted her to tease him a little. How could she have forgotten? A man bold enough to streak naked through a campus wouldn't blink at stripping down in front of strangers.

Now, things had spiraled out of control. Not only had her plan to mess with him backfired, but she had also utterly humiliated herself. Inviting her "boyfriend" to take advantage of the school and pulling such an outrageous stunt in front of her students had thoroughly ruined her reputation. She couldn't even imagine what the parents would report to Ms. Julianne.

Sandra sank into the hollow of a tree sculpture, hugging her knees as she nervously gnawed on her fingernails.

At least Arden hadn't chased after her when she ran out. The image of him streaking naked through her school made her stomach churn.

Yet his laughter still echoed in her ears, clear and mocking. It was as if he were standing right behind her, taunting her. "So, you think you can take me on with just this?"

Sandra hated the feeling of losing.

Why was it that every encounter with this man left her at a disadvantage? Even when she had delivered a crushing blow last time, she had come away bruised and battered herself.

But running away wasn't a solution. It only made her look weak. Everyone had a vulnerability; she just needed to find his.

Before a competition, she could study an opponent's game footage to develop strategies. But dealing with this scoundrel? How could she uncover his weakness?

Through the gaps in the tree sculpture, Sandra spotted Arden. He was impeccably dressed, walking out of the building with a trail of students following him like ducklings. She couldn't hear their chatter, but their sudden laughter set her ears burning. 

What nonsense had he told them this time?

Arden strolled toward the GTI parked in front of the building. Sandra squinted at the car. So, he's broke after all. Even swapped out his car.

The car!

A lightbulb flickered in Sandra's mind—the woman with the SVJ. Maybe she knew something.

🎬🔀

A sumptuous dinner was spread out before Sandra, the steam wafted upwards. Yao removed his apron and joined her at the table.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, noticing her distant expression.

Sandra chewed on the tip of her chopsticks, her brow furrowing. "How do you figure out a man's weakness?"

"A man's weakness?" Yao mused, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He leaned in, tapping her nose gently. "I'd say my weakness is you."

"Me?" Sandra blinked, taken aback. "Why me?"

Yao chuckled, carefully pulling the chopsticks—on the verge of being chewed in two—out of Sandra's mouth. He gazed deeply into her eyes. "Because I like you. If someone threatened me with you, I'd probably do anything."

Sandra sighed, shaking her head. That man? Could he even care for someone, let alone enough to be vulnerable? And even if he did, how could she use it against him? What would she do—threaten to make him castrate himself?

Yao could tell Sandra wasn't talking about him, but his curiosity was piqued. "Why are you so interested in a man's weakness?"

Sandra's jaw tightened. "To make him wish he were dead."

Yao flinched at the intensity in her voice. "Who dared to mess with you this time?"

Sandra shrugged nonchalantly. "No one. Eat. I'm starving."

Her quick dismissal was unconvincing. If she'd mentioned a classmate or some trivial issue, Yao might have let it slide. But her reaction made him wary.

"That sports car guy again?" he ventured, probing further.

Sandra stuffed her mouth with green beans, mumbling something incomprehensible.

Yao reached over and grabbed her hand. "How much do you owe him? I'll help you pay it off."

Sandra shook him off, her tone sharp. "I can handle my own problems."

Yao's grip tightened. "Sandy, I'm your boyfriend now. Your problems are my problems. If he's blackmailing you, we can sue him. I know a senior schoolmate who's a fantastic lawyer..."

The word boyfriend stung. Sandra twisted her wrist free, her voice cold. "This has nothing to do with you."

"How does it not?" Yao's frustration flared. "I don't want you seeing him again."

Sandra stood abruptly, her chair scraping the floor. "Just because I agreed to be your girlfriend doesn't mean you can control me. I said it has nothing to do with you, and I meant it."

Yao softened his tone. "Don't be like this, okay? Sandy, I worked hard on this meal for you." He paused, his voice gentle, almost pleading. "I never meant to control you. I just want to look out for you."

Sandra glanced at the chaos in the kitchen sink—piles of pots and pans smeared with remnants of his effort. Her anger wavered, guilt creeping in.

What right did she have to lash out at Yao? He had done nothing wrong, yet here she was, snapping at him out of frustration. It wasn't his fault she was keeping secrets she couldn't share, or that she was struggling to outmaneuver someone who always seemed to get under her skin. Why was she taking it out on him?

"I'm sorry." Sandra's shoulders slumped as she exhaled softly. Her voice was quieter now. "Yao, let's not talk about him, okay?"

Yao looked down at the crown of her head, his gaze tracing the dark, swirling vortex of her hair. It seemed to mirror the thoughts she kept tightly locked away; thoughts he couldn't grasp no matter how hard he tried.

The unease gnawed at him. She was standing right there, close enough to touch. Yet in this moment, she felt miles away.

Was it because of that man? 

Yao didn't want to believe it, but he wasn't blind. Every time Sandra saw or even heard about him, her reactions spiraled out of control in ways Yao couldn't ignore.

And yet, there was nothing he could do about it.

"Fine, we won't talk about him," Yao said quietly, forcing a semblance of calm.

But not talking about that man didn't mean his shadow wouldn't linger between them, casting an invisible wedge.

Neither of them could bring themselves to finish the meal. Each bite felt tasteless, overshadowed by the unspoken tension between them. Sandra eventually excused herself and left. Yao, still simmering with frustration, didn't try to stop her.

As she walked through the quiet streets, Sandra hesitated at a street corner, her thoughts racing. After a moment of uncertainty, she took a deep breath, steeled herself, and turned around, stepping into a nearby bank.

🎬🔀

Arden glanced at the phone number on the screen, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of his lips. His tone was light, laced with amusement.

"Oh, my little kitten, this is a momentous occasion—the first time you've called me. Should we celebrate?"

Sandra frowned, caught off guard. "How do you know it's me?"

"It's called telepathy," he teased.

Sandra rolled her eyes, dismissing the absurd answer. Yao must have registered the phone in her name, and the caller ID had given her away.

Arden's voice dropped, smooth and deliberately teasing. "Late at night, all quiet—what made you think of me, kitten?"

Sandra gripped the bag in her arms tightly and cleared her throat. "Do you... have time tonight?"

"I didn't, originally," Arden replied, his words carrying an edge of intrigue.

Sandra felt a fleeting relief—until he continued, his tone playful. "But if it's you inviting me, how could I refuse? My whole night is yours."

Sandra half-joked, "How much is the overnight fee?"

Without missing a beat, Arden played along. "I'll give you a discount—500 a night."

"That's so expensive," Sandra muttered, pressing her hand against the bag, her heart sinking at the thought. What a scam. Her hard-earned salary from a month of teaching, after taxes, wouldn't even cover a few nights.

Arden, noticing her hesitation, smirked. "If you're strapped for cash, kitten, there are always... other options."

Sandra felt a chill run down her spine. See? If she didn't pay, he might actually consider selling her off.

"Don't you have a standard rate?" she asked cautiously, unwilling to let him set an arbitrary price.

"It's all about building a reputation," Arden replied, barely holding back his laughter. His cheeks starting to ache from the effort.

Sandra didn't press further. She gave him the address and hung up, leaving Arden grinning at the absurdity of their exchange.

"It's all about building a reputation." Moya mimicked Arden's tone, doubling over with laughter. "You know, you're surprisingly well-suited for this line of work. With your solid reputation, ever consider going pro?"

Arden picked up Moya's compact mirror and inspected his reflection. Running a hand through his hair, he smirked. "I'll think about it the day I'm broke enough to live off women."

"You could always do it for fun. I'd be your first customer!" Moya teased, laughing loudly.

Arden grabbed her car keys, tossing his own in exchange. With a smirk, he said, "Drive carefully. If you scratch it, I'll make sure you're the one working at Brandi's—for fun."

🎬🔀

It was Arden's first time stepping into a McDonald's. The moment he pushed the door open, the greasy stench of overused oil hit him like a wall, making him instinctively step back.

He wrinkled his nose in disdain, unable to fathom how anyone could willingly indulge in such greasy fare. To him, eating this so-called fast food bordered on self-destruction. Even the act of standing there felt contaminating, as if the air itself was coating his skin with grease.

"Kitten, why'd you pick this place, huh? I know a great French restaurant. How about we—"

Still hungry after leaving Yao's house and currently committing self-destruction with a tray of fries and nuggets, Sandra gestured to the seat across from her with a ketchup-covered fry.

 "Didn't you say you're broke and need me to take responsibility?"

Arden glanced at the chair with its mysterious brownish stains and shook his head. "I'll stand."

"Perfect." Sandra popped the fry into her mouth and wiped her hands on a napkin. Then she retrieved an envelope from her bag and thrust it toward him.

"What's this?" Arden asked, making no move to take it.

"Payment for the last two nights," Sandra replied, tapping the envelope lightly against his chest.

"Overnight fee?" Arden's brow furrowed, his voice louder than intended.

The group at the next table turned to stare, their imaginations clearly running wild.

Sandra shoved the envelope into the open collar of Arden's shirt. "You didn't specify a rate at the time, but now that I know, I can't owe you. 500 per night, plus 200 for medical expenses."

Twelve hundreds. Holding the envelope made Sandra's heart ache. It was practically her entire monthly rent and food budget. But it was better to lose the money than endure any more of his presence. As long as he stayed away from her, it would be worth it.

"Medical expenses?" Arden echoed, his disbelief clear.

"We're even now," Sandra declared, grabbing her bag. She hesitated briefly, then added, "If you're still interested in that modeling job, contact the school. I'm not teaching that class anymore."

The onlookers exchanged whispers: "Unbelievable...," "Never would've guessed..."

Arden, his patience fraying, yanked the envelope from his shirt and tossed it onto their table.

"Hey, you can't just throw money around!" Sandra lunged to grab it.

Before Sandra could react, she found herself lifted off the ground. Arden slung her effortlessly over his shoulder. Gasps and murmurs erupted from the diners as he carried her out, her protests growing louder.

"Put me down!"

Sandra pounded her fists against his back, her face flushing with embarrassment and frustration.

Arden stayed silent, responding to each hit with a slap on her rear. Neither of them held back. His back muscles were tense as stone, while her butt hurting like it was on fire.

Seeing her fists were ineffective, Sandra arched her back, wrapping an arm around his neck.

Arden's breath hitched, and with no choice but to release her, he tossed her onto the hood of the GTI that parked on the side of the road.

"What's your deal?" he growled, leaning over her. His hands pressing down on the hood as he glared at her.

Under the flickering neon lights, his expression was tense, his breath uneven. Sandra, oddly delighted, stopped struggling. 

Lying back on the hood, she taunted him. "Aren't you used to taking money for services?"

Arden's lips curled into a cold smile. "And you seem awfully used to handing it over. Guess I've landed myself a sugar mommy."

"Not at all." Sandra mimicked his expression, her tone unintentionally sour. "Not like that mixed-race beauty with the SVJ."

Arden's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"The woman who bought you a car," she said, jabbing a finger at his chest. "We're even now, so let's not get too close."

Arden smirked, taking the envelope from her hand and slipping it into the waistband of her shorts. Leaning close to her ear, he murmured, "How about I pay you for a night?"

"No way," Sandra retorted. "I'm not for sale."

"Neither am I," Arden replied coolly.

"Didn't you say 500 for a night?"

Arden leaned down, pinning her in place. "That's just for dinner companionship."

Before either could escalate further, the wail of sirens cut through the air. A police car screeched to a stop in front of them.

An officer jumped out, taser aimed at Arden, "Hands on your head! Step away from the girl!"

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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