Chapter 24: Yan Yan Protects Zhen Nuan

                               

Yan Yan’s face darkened, a storm brewing behind his eyes. He was visibly displeased—and beneath that calm exterior, a faint, sharp anger flickered.

He had always been disciplined, trained to resist distraction or provocation, especially from women. Today was an anomaly, a breach he could not ignore.

This—this was unprofessional.

He was well aware of his physical maturity, aware that hormones could play their occasional trick, but never like this. Today, it had happened for the first time. Yet, he was Yan Enthalpy—swift, resolute, unflinching. In an instant, he pushed down every errant thought, regaining the razor-sharp control that defined him.

He returned to the rooftop with quiet decisiveness.

The masked man, still struggling on the ground, attempted to flee down the stairs. But Yan Yan did not pursue; he would not leave Zhen Nuan alone for even a second this time.

Carefully, he lifted Zhen Nuan into his arms. The moment their feet touched solid ground, she sprang away as if electrocuted, creating a small distance of a meter between them.

Her heart still thundered from the fall, the adrenaline, and the intimate proximity they had shared in midair. She could not even allow herself to think about it—or else it might never settle.

Yan Yan studied her panicked expression, a slight disbelief in his eyes. She didn’t react at all while hanging off the wall, he mused. And when I asked her to hold me… she trembled from head to toe. Scared more by my body than by falling.

He wondered, briefly amused and incredulous: Does this girl have broken tendons or faulty wiring in her brain?

Then, his own momentary distraction nudged his awareness. Something had been off in his reaction just now. He realized, with mild confusion, that the unusual heat he’d felt was reminiscent of a physical aura he had once sensed in Xia Shi—a curious, subtle force.

Zhen Nuan, meanwhile, stood in a daze, the strange heat ebbing from her body. Realizing the oddity of her own behavior, she finally regained composure. Looking up at him, she asked softly, “Captain… are you okay?”

Yan Yan had already risen, brushing off the dust from his clothes, replying with a calm, almost detached, “Hmm.”

Beads of sweat dotted his fair, broad forehead. His lips were dry from exertion, yet he looked imposing and collected, a picture of restrained power without a single sign of fatigue.

Zhen Nuan pulled a tissue from her bag, holding it out to him: “Wipe your sweat.”

He took it, dabbing his forehead and cheeks with precision.

She lowered her gaze for a moment, then murmured in a hesitant, almost playful voice: “Captain… you’re… too messy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

She fidgeted, voice muffled: “Just now… what if I hadn’t been able to jump and… fallen?”

Yan Yan’s low laugh rumbled through the air, dark and teasing. “And what if I had stood by and watched him push you? Watched you fall, listened to your screams while he subdued you?”

The seriousness of the thought was instantly undercut by the slow, playful drawl of “Ah~~,” making the tension strangely humorous.

Zhen Nuan’s lips twitched. She tensed, unsure whether to laugh or cry. She didn’t ask more. The meaning was clear—this man would never, could never, let anyone harm her in front of his eyes.

Yan Yan crumpled the tissue into a ball, requested another from her, and walked to where the masked man had fallen. He picked up a few strands of hair carefully, wrapping them for evidence.

Zhen Nuan exhaled softly, secretly admiring his meticulousness.

As he descended the stairs, he asked, voice firm: “These people… all of them are after you. Who have you offended recently?”

Zhen Nuan shook her head, puzzled. “No one. I’ve never caused trouble for anyone.”

“Think carefully,” he said, leaping down the high steps while glancing back at her.

She looked left and right, found no lower steps, and slid down the stairway, brushing dust from her skirt. Dazed, she whispered, “Really… nothing.”

Yan Yan raised an eyebrow. “Then why… why are they after you? Even the vehicles at the intersection yesterday—they rushed toward you.”

She bit her lip, words hesitant: “I… I don’t have friends or relatives. Just my colleagues at work. I don’t know anyone. Who could possibly bear a grudge?”

Yan Yan’s surprise was palpable. “You… don’t have friends? You returned to China in September, right?”

“Yes. But I stay home every day, except for interviews… and…” She lowered her gaze. “I interview families.”

His mouth opened slightly, a rare expression of stunned awe crossing his face. One thousand words condensed into a single, incredulous sentence: “You… are really homely.”

Zhen Nuan secretly pulled out her mobile and searched for the meaning of the word “house” as they walked. She had never used this function before going abroad, and once overseas, she had almost no contact with the mainland—not a single friend to reach out to.

The search results were simple and harmless, and she liked the meaning. It felt like a small praise from Yan Enthalpy himself, so she brightened and said softly, “Thank you, Captain.”

Yan Yan glanced at her, an inscrutable expression crossing his face.

After a few steps, his mind wandered back to her earlier words. When she said she had no friends or relatives, she hadn’t qualified it with “in Yucheng.” In other words, she was almost entirely disconnected from the world around her—a thought that struck him as unusual.

And yet, when she spoke of “home,” it reminded him of Xia Shi. That girl had never claimed a home before, had never clung to anyone. She had grown more withdrawn with time, preferring the quiet of indoors over the chaos outside—except when she followed him.

To be with him, she would go anywhere.

He had left his hometown for Yucheng, died far from home, leaving no trace behind.

Yan Yan’s thoughts were heavy as he walked out of the building. He tossed the sweat-soaked tissue into a trash can, his mind clouded by memories and vague unease.

The two of them walked down the colorful corridor in silence. Zhen Nuan’s mind drifted to Shen Yi, wondering if these attackers might be seeking revenge through her. But upon reflection, the idea seemed impossible.

Yan Enthalpy entertained the same thought, then quickly dismissed it. If it were Shen Yi’s enemies, they would not have been so bold as to attack near a police car. Shen Yi’s circle was cautious, low-key. Threatening her indirectly by involving law enforcement would be too reckless.

…

When they returned to the spot where the flower pot had shattered, Yan Enthalpy used a paper bag to carefully collect the debris.

Zhen Nuan whispered, “Those people were wearing gloves.”

Yan Yan nodded. “To avoid leaving fingerprints, and also to help with climbing. Special gloves.” He picked up a piece of the pot with a paper towel and carefully lifted a strand of fiber.

Zhen Nuan was impressed. The captain never missed a detail.

Soon, Brother Tan and Lao Bai arrived, out of breath.

“Those people are like rabbits—flying over walls. They must have serious backgrounds,” Tan gasped.

“I’ll return to the parkour circle in Yucheng for investigation. Call Guan Xiaoyu and the others to collect footprints immediately,” Yan Yan ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

Lao Bai’s eyes softened when he noticed Zhen Nuan’s loose hair, flushed face, and watery eyes. “Kitten, were you bullied?” he asked anxiously.

Zhen Nuan barely registered the question. What had terrified her more than the masked man was Yan Enthalpy himself in the chaos above. She shook her head quickly. “The captain saved me… but because of me, the others escaped.”

Tan added, “These attackers seem unrelated to Zhen Nuan personally. Judging by their skill, they were clearly hired.”

Yan Yan nodded. “Their objective is clear: Zhen Nuan. When confronted, they only run to disperse attention. They never fight.”

“Are they afraid we’ll dig too deep?” Tan asked. “They’re cautious, well-organized.”

“Hmm,” Yan Yan acknowledged. “Perhaps… or perhaps they simply can’t win.”

…

On the way back, Lao Bai and Tan asked Zhen Nuan again if she had angered anyone recently. She shook her head.

Yan Yan remained silent for a long time, then finally asked, “What about work?”

“Huh?”

“Have you encountered anything unusual?”

Zhen Nuan thought carefully. “I don’t handle forensic consultations or injury assessments, so I rarely interact with the living… except for my work outside.”

Tan and Lao Bai exchanged amused glances at her phrasing.

“Recently, Jiang Xiao’s case just closed…”

Tan interjected, “Even if Jiang Xiao’s sister-in-law held grudges, she wouldn’t hire this kind of people.”

“I agree,” Zhen Nuan said. “Nothing suspicious.”

Yan Yan pressed further: “This morning, before heading out for work… what exactly were you doing?”

“I was verifying and auditing October’s autopsy records,” she replied.

He frowned but said nothing.

At that moment, Tan’s phone rang. He answered briefly, then turned to Yan Yan: “Boss, Deputy Chief Cheng said there’s an accident at the old sports stadium in Languo District. Zhen Nuan has to go check. The forensic team is already there.”

“Let’s go together. Don’t let her get into trouble again,” Yan Yan said coldly, staring out the car window in silence.

Zhen Nuan’s heart sank. She couldn’t tell if she had caused all this trouble for him, or if these strangers had become angry because of her. She felt a pang of guilt and unease.

Yan Yan’s mood was indeed dark—but not because of her. He couldn’t quite identify the strange sensation that clung to his chest. Ever since climbing from the rooftop edge, something had felt off. Then he realized—it was the lingering warmth, the soft and gentle weight of her in his arms moments ago.

He rubbed his cheeks briskly, as if trying to erase the sensation from his mind.

Zhen Nuan bit her lip, her voice small: “Captain… sorry for troubling you.”

Yan Yan released her hand. “It’s your duty. It’s fine.”

He returned to the window, silent. In truth, he needed no words. He simply wanted time—time to think.

To think of her shy, tender smile. Her whispered words. The softness of her lips. The delicate warmth of her body pressed against his. He wanted to remember it all, to hold it in his mind, away from the world.

He didn’t want to talk to anyone anymore.

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