Jiang Meilin's eyes flashed with determination as she dodged another of Zhao Jingshen's jabs. "Getting tired already, Mr. CEO?" she taunted, her voice barely betraying her own exertion.
Zhao Jingshen couldn't help but grin, even as he tried to catch his breath. "Just warming up, princess. Don't get cocky."
He feigned left, then struck right, managing to graze Meilin's ribs. She grunted, acknowledging the hit with a nod. "Not bad. What's your next burning question?"
Zhao Jingshen paused, considering carefully. "Your family... are they aware you're here?"
A shadow passed over Jiang Meilin's face, quickly replaced by her usual mask of playful indifference. "Some are. Others... let's just say ignorance is bliss."
Before Zhao Jingshen could process her cryptic answer, Meilin launched into a flurry of punches that had him backpedaling. Her technique was flawless, each movement precise and calculated.
As the fight wore on, Zhao Jingshen found himself increasingly in awe of Meilin's skill and tenacity. She was a force of nature, every movement screaming of power and control. This was a woman used to command, to being obeyed without question. And Gid help him, she was the perfect fit for him.
Suddenly, Jiang Meilin's fist connected solidly with Zhao Jingshen's ribs, sending him staggering back. "Stop holding back," she hissed, her eyes blazing. "It's insulting."
Zhao Jingshen blinked, realizing he had indeed been pulling his punches. "I didn't want to hurt you," he said, straightening up.
Meilin's laugh was sharp and humorless. "Oh, honey. You couldn't if you tried."
The atmosphere in the ring shifted, charged with a new intensity. Zhao Jingshen nodded, a look of determination settling over his features. "As you wish, Ms. Blackwood."
Their fight became faster, more furious. Sweat glistened on their skin as they traded blows, each punch revealing a new piece of the puzzle that was Jiang Meilin – or rather, Rosie Blackwood.
"Your art," Zhao Jingshen panted after landing a solid uppercut, "is it just a cover?"
Pain flashed in Meilin's eyes, quickly masked by determination. "My art is as real as the bruises you'll have tomorrow," she retorted, emphasizing her point with a swift jab that Jingshen barely avoided. "Even though, it's not mine" she added in a silent whisper.
As they continued to spar, the tension between them seemed to shift, transforming into something electric and charged. Their bodies moved in sync, a dangerous tango of attraction and challenge.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of traded blows and half-revealed truths, they called a draw. Both were breathing heavily, sweat glistening on their skin as they leaned against the ropes.
"Not bad for a paper-pusher," Meilin teased, her chest heaving.
Jingshen chuckled, wincing slightly at the movement. "You're not so bad yourself, for an artist."
"Final round?" she asked, her eyes glinting with challenge.
"You're on," he replied, his gaze appreciatively taking in her athletic form.
Distracted by her beauty, Zhao Jingshen missed Jiang Meilin's incoming punch, which connected solidly with his face "Focus, greenhorn," she smirked.
Wheezing, Zhao Jingshen wiped blood from his split lip. "I think you've got anger issues," he quipped.
"Not just anger issues," Jiang Meilin retorted, her voice a mix of pride, anger, and playfulness. "I've also got commitment issues. Which is why I'm taking back my acceptance to be your girlfriend."
Shock rippled through Jingshen. "You can't do that," he protested, his voice rough with emotion. "You already agreed. And I hate to break it to you, princess, but you're stuck with me for life."
"Ha!" Meilin exclaimed, throwing another punch at his stomach. "I never agreed to be your girlfriend. That was Jiang Meilin, remember? And since you already know who I am, you can decide to woo me again."
Realization dawned on Zhao Jingshen's face as Jiang Meilin continued, "If you're still interested in being with me, you can ask me out again as Rosie Blackwood, not as Jiang Meilin. Until then..."
She left the words hanging, but Zhao Jingshen had heard enough. In one fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. Their eyes locked, the world around them fading away.
"Rosie Blackwood," he murmured, his voice low and intense, "I don't care what name you go by. I'm in love with the woman beneath the masks, all of her – the artist, the fighter, the heiress. And I'm not letting you go that easily."
Without waiting for a response, he captured her lips in a searing kiss. Jiang Meilin stiffened for a moment, surprised by his boldness, before melting into his embrace. The kiss was a battle for dominance, much like their sparring match, filled with passion, challenge, and an undercurrent of something deeper.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily, and not just from the exertion of their fight. Jiang Meilin's eyes were wide, a mix of emotions swirling in their depths.
"Jingshen," she began, her voice uncharacteristically soft, "I—"
"Hold that thought," Jingshen said, gently pressing a finger to her lips. His eyes locked with hers, intense and unwavering. "Dinner. Tonight. We'll talk then. I don't give a damn if you're Jiang Meilin, Rosie Blackwood, or the queen of the underworld. I'm all in, Rosie. All in." The use of her real name wasn't lost on either of them. Jingshen's mind raced, desperate to unravel the enigma before him, to know everything about her as quickly as possible.
Meilin's breath hitched, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face at the sound of her name on his lips. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, replaced by her usual composed demeanor. "Rain check on dinner," she said, her voice regaining its sharp edge. "I've got plans."
"Plans?" Jingshen echoed, curiosity and a hint of something else coloring his tone. "What kind of plans?"
A wicked smile played on Meilin's lips, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, you know, just your average evening of teaching a certain young master some much-needed manners."
The words 'young master' set off alarms in Jingshen's head, but before he could voice his concerns, Meilin had already slipped from his grasp and was busying herself with removing her boxing gear.
"A man?" Jingshen blurted out, unable to mask the jealousy in his voice. "You're meeting a man?"
Meilin threw him a playful wink. "Mm-hmm. Unfortunately, I have a date with a gentleman of rather... uncontrollable sexual prowess."
In a flash, Jingshen was on his feet, his hand closing around her arm. "What the hell, Meilin? I just apologized for not contacting you. You can't just go off to see another man!" His mind was reeling, fixated on the phrases 'young master' and 'sexual prowess', all rational thought fleeing in the face of his jealousy.
Seeing the genuine distress in his eyes, Meilin's expression softened a fraction. She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Relax, hotshot. I'm not off to a steamy rendezvous. I'm going to commit a crime." Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "If you're game, meet me at my place at 11 pm sharp."
With a graceful spin, Meilin headed for the exit, her ponytail swinging behind her. Jingshen, still reeling from their conversation, called out, "Hey! What about our breakfast?"
Meilin paused at the door, turning back with a smirk that could melt steel and a wink that could start wars. "Raincheck, hotshot. I've got a date with danger."
"Hold up," Jingshen said, his long strides quickly closing the distance between them. He caught up to her at the gym's exit, his voice firm. "We're not done talking, Meilin."
She turned to face him, and Jingshen was struck by the sudden change in her demeanor. Her eyes, which moments ago had been sparkling with mischief, were now cold and distant, like frozen lakes. "No," she agreed, her voice carrying a weight that sent a shiver down his spine. "We're not. But right now, duty calls." Before he could react, she was gone, disappearing through the doors and into the bustling street beyond.
Zhao Jingshen stood rooted to the spot, the ghost of her kiss still tingling on his lips. The air around him was thick with the mingled scents of her perfume and their shared exertion.