"Only four private rooms? That makes my job way easier." Doug Feng stood at the fifth-floor hallway of Golden Sun Hotel, eyes sweeping over the doors labeled Heaven, Earth, Mystic, and Yellow.
"Ms. Fang, where are you hiding?"
Without wasting another second, he headed straight to the Heaven Room.
Bam! The door swung open.
Inside, a bunch of chubby middle-aged men were clinking glasses and laughing their greasy laughs—typical real estate tycoons, most likely toasting some sketchy business deal.
Doug coughed. "Sorry, wrong room." He shut the door and backed away quickly.
Next! He pushed open the Earth Room.
Empty.
Not a soul inside. No dinner. No party. Not even a waiter.
Two left.
Just as Doug reached for the Mystic Room door, a shout echoed behind him.
"Hey! Kid! What do you think you're doing?!"
Damn it. Of all people—it was the same hotel staffer who'd tried to block him at the entrance earlier. The guy had apparently followed him up and now caught him red-handed opening random doors.
"Not now!" Doug cursed under his breath and ignored the man, kicking the Mystic Room door open.
Empty again.
Doug's face darkened. "Tch. Luck's really not on my side today. It has to be Yellow Room then."
As he turned to leave, the hotel worker lunged at him. Doug didn't hesitate—he struck a knife-hand blow straight to the man's neck with just two-fifths of his strength. The guy slumped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, knocked out cold.
Then—voices.
"Director Qiu, this time, it's all thanks to you. I won't forget it—I'll make sure the deputy party secretary position is yours," came a smug voice from the Yellow Room door.
"Haha, I'll take your word for it, Young Master Liu. I'll leave you to your fun—time's precious, right?" the other man replied, chuckling as he walked away, clearly pleased with himself.
Doug's ears perked up.
Yellow Room. Bingo.
"Ms. Fang's in there. And thank God—sounds like they haven't done anything to her yet."
As Director Qiu walked away humming, Young Master Liu—aka Liu Chengyan—peeked out the door, scanned the hallway, then pulled the door shut, rubbing his hands in anticipation. His face was practically glowing with perversion.
Not on my watch.
Doug stormed toward the Yellow Room.
BANG! He kicked the door open like a hero in an action movie.
"Who the hell—?!" Liu Chengyan roared. His shirt was off, belt halfway undone, and on the couch lay Ms. Fang—her cheeks flushed red, her body limp and motionless.
Doug's eyes narrowed. "Who am I? I'm your damn grandpa!"
He saw red.
If he'd arrived even a minute later, this scumbag would've already—
BAM!
Doug charged forward and punched Liu Chengyan square in the chest.
Thud!
The rich brat flew back, landing hard on the floor. He let out a pitiful moan before promptly passing out, curled up like a shrimp.
Security had been watching Doug ever since he got to the fifth floor. Cameras caught everything—from the moment he broke into the rooms to knocking out the staffer and now this.
In the security room, alarms blared. Dozens of guards were already on their way.
Doug could hear their boots pounding up the stairwell.
He glanced down at Liu Chengyan, unconscious on the floor.
"Lucky bastard." He gave him one last kick.
Then Doug scooped Ms. Fang into a bridal carry and bolted out the room.
"GO GO GO! Liu Chengyan's on the fifth floor! That kid's the one who attacked him—grab him!" yelled the security chief into his walkie-talkie as he led a team of burly guards, all six-foot-plus and armed with electric batons.
They stormed the Yellow Room and gasped.
There lay Liu Chengyan, beaten to a pulp.
"Shit! He's not far. Fan out and catch him—NOW!"
Doug, meanwhile, was already sprinting down the emergency stairwell, Ms. Fang cradled in his arms. Her body was hot to the touch, and she was mumbling incoherently.
"Damn it, this is bad," Doug muttered. "There's no way I can just walk out the front—those meatheads will be waiting."
If it were just him? No problem. With his enhanced strength and speed, he could jump out a window, land on his feet, and walk away like a boss.
But now?
He looked down at Ms. Fang, her head leaning against his chest, her breath warm on his neck.
Her curves were pressing tightly against him, and Doug's teenage brain went haywire for a moment.
His hand twitched—just a little.
Soft. Warm. So smooth…
FOCUS, DOUG!
At the second-floor stairwell, three guards rounded the corner, electric batons crackling.
"There! That's the kid who punched Young Master Liu!"
"He's got a girl with him too! Take him down! One grand each if we catch him!"
Doug cursed.
No free hands. No room to fight.
And these guys weren't pulling punches.
"Dammit! If I wasn't carrying her, I'd wipe the floor with all of you!"
Gritting his teeth, Doug tightened his grip on Ms. Fang and took off down the stairs like the devil himself was chasing him.