Mad Dog

Zhi Qi’s movements were so smooth and swift that the other two had no say as they were dragged along.
Halfway through, Ji Liang suddenly remembered she hadn’t finished giving action guidance to the supporting actors.
But… she glanced at Zhi Yu’s displeased expression and realized she had probably said something wrong earlier. She ought to apologize, which was also why she hadn’t left with the rest of the crowd.
So, after thinking for a moment, Ji Liang held onto Zhi Qi’s hand and said, “Qi Qi, let me treat you both to dinner.”
Zhi Qi’s eyes curved with delight, and she was just about to say “sure” when Zhi Yu suddenly let out a snort.
“Sister?”
He sarcastically retorted, “You don’t look much older, but you sure know how to act like a senior.”
This… annoying man.
Which of his eyes saw her “putting on airs”?
“Uh.”
She weakly said, “Brother, our Sister Liang is really nice. She’s only two years older than me and has never acted superior.”
The softness of Zhi Qi’s voice made Zhi Yu pause for a moment before turning to look at her.
His face was expressionless, yet there was an undeniable “complaint” aura surrounding him as he said, “It was your Sister Liang who called security to throw me out.”
And she had also called him a rookie and accused him of sneaking in for photos.
Just thinking about these comments made Zhi Yu feel irritated again, but he restrained himself from mentioning them.
Zhi Qi blinked in surprise and turned to Ji Liang, asking, “Sister Liang, is that true?”
“I thought your brother was with the media, sneaking in to take pictures. He looked unfamiliar,” Ji Liang said, feeling a bit embarrassed—after all, she hadn’t forgotten how she’d insulted Zhi Yu earlier.
Reflecting on this, she glanced around nervously and said, in a tone that sounded unsure who it was meant for, “Sorry about that.”
It was the perfect example of an awkward, begrudging apology.
Zhi Qi couldn’t help but suppress a laugh, quickly stepping in to smooth things over, “Brother, Sister Liang apologized, so let’s not make a big deal out of it. There are so many media people sneaking into the set every day, and the staff are all on edge.”
Zhi Yu’s expression eased a little.
He wasn’t actually that hung up on it; he just had a fiery temper. Hearing Ji Liang’s half-hearted apology was enough—it was still an apology after all.
He let out a vague grunt in response and silently followed them as they continued walking.
After placating him, Zhi Qi turned to Ji Liang and reassured her, “Sister Liang, don’t mind him. My brother’s just a bit petty.”
“My brother… petty.”
Zhi Yu, catching this critical word, suddenly had the urge to stuff Zhi Qi into the trunk and drive off with her. His face, which had just softened, darkened again.
However, despite his displeasure, when they sat down for dinner, Zhi Yu, seeing a table full of seafood, still put on disposable gloves and started peeling shrimp for Zhi Qi.
The girl loved seafood, and he was clearly accustomed to this routine, quickly and skillfully peeling a plate full of shrimp before gruffly shoving it in front of Zhi Qi, saying in a firm tone, “Hurry up and eat.”
Zhi Qi pouted but silently started eating.
There’s an old saying, “Where there’s oppression, there’s resistance,” but Zhi Qi was clearly used to being “oppressed” by Zhi Yu. Seeing his scowling face, she couldn’t be bothered to resist—it was also obvious she was spoiled, naturally enjoying her brother’s care.
Ji Liang, watching the lively dynamic between the siblings, couldn’t help but feel a bit envious.
So this is what it feels like to have a sibling—a relationship filled with mutual disdain yet reliance. Seeing how Zhi Yu and Zhi Qi interacted, Ji Liang deeply grasped the meaning of “blood is thicker than water.” Despite the bickering, it was clear that no one could come between them. Sadly, she was an only child.
Her impression of Zhi Yu being a “petty egotist” also started to shift a little.
The corners of Ji Liang’s crimson lips curled into a faint smile. Stirring her bowl of ice, she turned to Zhi Qi and remarked, “Your brother spoils you quite a bit, doesn’t he?”
“Really?”
Zhi Qi glanced at Zhi Yu and pouted again. “No way, he loves to bully me.”
“Ugh, guys are like that. They don’t know how to express themselves.”
Zhi Yu, still focused on peeling the complex shells of the seafood for Zhi Qi, had been quiet throughout, listening to their conversation without much interest. He found it childish and didn’t bother to refute.
—What’s the purpose of having a little sister if not to tease her?
–
As expected, Jiang Qi was caught up in a back-to-back night shoot, and Zhi Yu, having finally freed up a day, ended up waiting until nightfall without seeing him.
He spent the entire afternoon hanging out with Zhi Qi and her friend, Ji Liang.
The remote film set didn’t have many places to rest, so after returning to the set, Ji Liang, for Zhi Qi’s sake, brought them both to her “office.”
As a highly regarded action director on set, Ji Liang had the privilege of having an office—but hers was slightly different from the others.
While most offices had the basics—desks, chairs, and maybe a cot for a nap—Ji Liang’s high standards and demanding nature had transformed her temporary office into something resembling a “dance studio” or “styling room.”
Three of the four walls were lined with mirrors, with a barre in front for leg stretches and basic moves. The floor had yoga mats scattered about, and one side held various outfits and posture-correcting equipment.
Zhi Qi, who had been coached by Ji Liang during her brief guest appearances, had visited this office many times before. Yet, seeing the setup still made her shudder, as memories of being stretched and twisted during those sessions resurfaced.
She couldn’t help but shrink back, feeling a bit timid.
It was Zhi Yu’s first time in such a “novel” environment, and he couldn’t help but take a few more glances.
“Well, we’ve got nothing else to do.”
Ji Liang, ever the energetic type, tossed her keys onto the table and turned to Zhi Qi with a smile. “Qi Qi, how about I teach you a few exercises to relax your nerves?”
During their previous “training” sessions, aside from the moves needed for filming, Ji Liang had also taught her several yoga poses meant to relieve tension.
However, for Zhi Qi, those poses were all quite “inhumane” and challenging.
But the post-stretch comfort was undeniable.
Zhi Qi smiled and nodded, “Sure.”
Soon, the two women were sitting face to face on yoga mats.
Zhi Yu found the scene incredibly awkward, and his first instinct was to leave—but being someone with a poor sense of direction in unfamiliar places, he awkwardly sat back down.
Then, the first move Ji Liang made left the “inexperienced” Zhi Yu completely stunned.
The woman sat on the yoga mat in a full split, her long legs stretching wide apart. She slowly bent her left leg, holding her knee with her right hand, while her right leg remained straight and taut. Her slender, flexible body leaned forward, and her left hand gracefully reached for her right foot, effortlessly grasping her toes.
Who would have thought that a human body could “twist” like this?
The most baffling part was that even in this contorted position, Ji Liang still looked graceful.
And to top it off, she could speak casually, smiling as she said to Zhi Qi, “Try it out. This pose is very effective for relieving lower back fatigue.”
Zhi Qi let out a dry “uh-huh,” her wide eyes filled with awe, and then she began to imitate Ji Liang’s pose.
Watching from the side, Zhi Yu felt an overwhelming urge to facepalm.
If Ji Liang’s pose was like a graceful fairy’s twist, his sister’s attempt looked more like a clumsy goose—completely awkward and stiff.
“If you can’t do it,” Zhi Yu finally spoke, unable to hold back any longer, “just stop.”
Honestly, even watching the pose felt a bit inhuman to him.
Zhi Qi let out a sigh of relief, ready to take the easy way out, when Ji Liang’s clear, teasing voice interrupted, “Don’t be afraid. This pose only looks hard, but with a bit of effort, anyone can learn it—except for those who are *really* slow.”
That last bit was clearly directed at someone.
Zhi Qi glanced at Zhi Yu, wondering why these two, who had just met, seemed so inexplicably at odds. Could it be one of those things where people’s personalities just clashed from the start?
She smiled helplessly, trying to smooth things over, “Okay, I’ll give it another try.”
Just as she was about to resume her awkward attempts, Zhi Yu, with a stern expression, pulled her up.
Zhi Qi: ????
She was utterly confused.
Ji Liang, still holding her difficult pose, looked at the siblings with amusement in her eyes.
Then Zhi Yu sat down in the spot Zhi Qi had just vacated and seriously asked, “Are you implying that I’m especially slow?”
…
Who would have thought that someone could confront an implied insult this directly?
But Zhi Qi knew this was exactly the kind of thing her brother’s temperament would lead him to do.
She found it both funny and slightly inappropriate, just as she was about to intervene, Ji Liang spoke up.
“Nope.”
The woman blinked innocently, feigning complete fairness as she replied, “I was talking about anyone who can’t learn the pose. But if you want, Mr. Zhi, why don’t you give it a try?”
After all, she didn’t mind gaining a student.
Plus, in terms of human aesthetics, Zhi Yu was undeniably a handsome man—Ji Liang quite liked the idea of watching a good-looking guy attempt challenging yoga moves. The thought of the scene already seemed quite appealing to her.
Perhaps wanting to prove he wasn’t in the “especially slow” category, Zhi Yu frowned slightly but then actually took off his suit jacket and tossed it to Zhi Qi.
The white shirt he wore underneath was perfectly tailored, accentuating his slender and toned frame.
Both sets of eyes, now filled with anticipation, immediately focused on him.
However, just as Zhi Yu raised his arm over his head, attempting to reach his leg, before his stiff waist could even bend, a sharp ripping sound echoed through the quiet room.
Zhi Yu’s shirt had torn.
The high-quality white shirt now had a noticeable rip under the arm, a clear and unfortunate tear… poor thing.