Chapter 91: Defying the Tyrannosaurus**
Wu Yifan was no fool. He never acted on impulse—every move, every word, was calculated, part of a larger plan he'd mapped out long before stepping onto that stage.
This bartending competition, for all its farce-like moments, was a goldmine. Qian Baoqing hadn't poured money into it for fun; Lin Feng hadn't emerged from obscurity by chance. They all knew the stakes: the champion's title wasn't just a trophy. It was a ticket to fame, to a 30% surge in customers, to becoming Beitian's most talked-about venue.
Reputation was everything in the entertainment business. A winning club didn't just attract crowds—it deterred overzealous cops, lured big sponsors, and turned "just another KTV" into a landmark. Wu Yifan wasn't about to let that prize slip through his fingers.
Besides, he and Ye Xiwen were… *closer* now. Surely she'd forgive a little recklessness, right?
"Activate the third mission," he thought, steeling himself.
"Mission activated. Target identified. Scanning complete."
Xue'er's voice echoed in his mind, followed by a flood of new data:
*Mission: Touch Fu Junyao's buttocks in a bold, sincere manner.*
*Time limit: 1 hour.*
*Status: Incomplete.*
*Success rating: Unknown.*
*Reward: 10–20 enhancement points (based on performance). +1 new enhancement attribute.*
Wu Yifan froze.
*Fu Junyao?* The she-tyrannosaurus? He'd been banking on Ye Xiwen—someone who might blush, scold him, but ultimately forgive him. Fu Junyao? She'd break his hand. Maybe both.
His luck, it seemed, had run out.
"Ladies and gentlemen, viewers at home! We're moments away from the final showdown! Who will be Beitian's first bartending champion? Stay with us!" The host hyped the crowd, unaware of Wu Yifan's internal panic.
Time was ticking. If he failed, no championship, no enhancements—and worse, the smart enhancement device might dissolve. This wasn't a game anymore.
"I need a minute," Wu Yifan said, raising his hand.
The host blinked. "Mr. Wu? Is something wrong?" He'd written Wu Yifan off as a joke, but there was a strange intensity in his voice.
The crowd murmured, curious. What now?
Wu Yifan cleared his throat, his expression softening into something like earnestness. "Before we start… there's someone I need to thank. Sincerely. Will you let me do that?"
Eyes darted to Ye Xiwen. Of course it was her. The crowd leaned in, expecting a dramatic confession—maybe even a proposal.
Ye Xiwen's heart fluttered. She'd dreamed of this moment, in a way—him declaring his feelings, unafraid of the cameras. She bit her lip, cheeks warm.
Fu Junyao crossed her arms, scowling. "Don't fall for it, Wenwen jie. He's just showing off."
Ye Xiwen didn't hear her. Her focus was on Wu Yifan, on the way the stage lights caught his face.
Then, to everyone's shock, Wu Yifan walked straight past Ye Xiwen—right to Fu Junyao.
She froze, eyes widening. *Me?*
"Junyao," he said, his voice low and steady, "I need to thank you. For everything you've done for Wenwen. For us." He paused, letting the words hang. "You've been her rock. I don't think she could've kept Infinity going without you. So… thank you. From the bottom of my heart."
Before she could react, he pulled her into a hug.
The crowd gasped.
*He's hugging the she-tyrannosaurus?*
Fu Junyao went rigid. Her brain short-circuited. Cameras flashed. The crowd roared. This was humiliation—public, unscripted, *horrifying*. She tried to push him off, but his arms were like steel bands.
"L-let go," she hissed, cheeks burning.
"I mean it," Wu Yifan said, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "We couldn't have done this without you." All the while, his hands wandered—slowly, deliberately—down her back.
Fu Junyao's eyes shot open.
*Is he…?*
Yes. His palms rested on her buttocks, squeezing gently.
Her breath hitched. Anger, shock, and something else—something hot and unwelcome—coiled in her stomach. No man had ever dared touch her like this. No man had ever *wanted* to.
"Y-you bastard," she whispered, teeth gritted. She'd kill him. She'd bury him in the backyard of the police station.
Wu Yifan's fingers lingered, just long enough to make it count, then pulled away. He stepped back, his expression grave, as if he'd just delivered a eulogy.
"Thank you," he repeated, loud enough for the mics to pick up.
The crowd erupted—some in laughter, some in cheers.
*Bold move.* *Respect.*
Fu Junyao stood there, frozen, her face redder than a tomato. She wanted to scream, to punch him, to run—but the cameras were on her. She forced a smile, the kind that didn't reach her eyes.
"Y-you're welcome," she managed, her voice cracking.
Wu Yifan nodded, then turned back to the stage, leaving her seething.
*Task: Touch Fu Junyao's buttocks in a bold, sincere manner.*
*Time limit: 1 hour.*
*Status: Complete.*
*Success rating: Moderate.*
*Reward: 12 enhancement points. New attribute: Jumping ability.*
*Bonus: Today only—gain 2 new attributes.*
Wu Yifan suppressed a grin. 12 points wasn't great, but jumping ability? Useful. And two attributes in one day? That was a game-changer.
He glanced at Fu Junyao, who was still standing there, fuming. She'd kill him later, but for now? Mission accomplished.
He turned to Lin Feng, who'd watched the whole spectacle with a mix of confusion and amusement.
"Ready to lose?" Wu Yifan said, grinning.
Lin Feng raised an eyebrow. "You talk a lot for someone who hasn't mixed a drink yet."
"I save the best for last."
The host, finally regaining his composure, clapped his hands. "Let's make this official! Final round rules: each contestant will create a signature cocktail. Judges will score based on taste, presentation, and creativity. Highest score wins! Begin!"
Lin Feng moved first, grabbing bottles with practiced ease. He was determined to shut Wu Yifan up, to prove that flashy stunts and public groping didn't make a champion.
Wu Yifan took his time. He selected a few bottles, a shaker, a strainer—nothing fancy. The crowd leaned in, skeptical.
Could he really do it? Or was this all smoke and mirrors?
Fu Junyao, still seething, muttered, "He's bluffing. He has to be."
Ye Xiwen said nothing, but her eyes were fixed on Wu Yifan. There was a calm confidence in his movements—something she hadn't seen before.
Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't lying.
Wu Yifan poured, shook, strained—no theatrics, no spinning decanters. Just precision. When he finished, he set the glass down gently. It was a simple drink—clear, with a single mint leaf floating on top.
No one said a word.
The judges approached, hesitantly. They sampled Lin Feng's drink first—a vibrant purple concoction that smelled of berries and spice. They nodded, impressed.
Then they tried Wu Yifan's.
The first judge took a sip. His eyes widened. He took another, slower this time.
"What… what is this?" he said, voice hoarse.
Wu Yifan smiled. "'Silence.'"
The second judge sipped, then sighed. "It's… perfect. Clean. No distractions. Just… flavor."
One by one, they tasted, their expressions softening from skepticism to awe.
Lin Feng's smile faded. He'd lost before the scores were even read.
The host grabbed the scorecards, his hands shaking. "The results are in! Lin Feng… 9.5!"
A solid score. The crowd applauded.
"And Wu Yifan… 10! A perfect score!"
The room erupted.
Wu Yifan raised his arms, grinning.
Fu Junyao stared, mouth open. Ye Xiwen laughed, relief washing over her.
Qian Baoqing stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Lin Feng walked over, extending a hand. "You win. Fair and square."
Wu Yifan shook it. "Thanks. You're good. Real good."
The host handed him a trophy—a gaudy thing, but it didn't matter.
"Any words, champion?"
Wu Yifan held up the trophy, then pointed to Ye Xiwen. "This is for Infinity. For her."
She blushed, smiling.
Then he pointed to Fu Junyao, who was still glaring. "And to someone who… inspires me. In her own way."
She flipped him off.
The crowd laughed.
As the chaos died down, Wu Yifan caught Fu Junyao's eye. She mouthed, *Later.*
He winked. He'd survive. He always did.
For now, though, he was the champion. And Infinity? It was about to get very, very busy.