Chapter 11: Luo Gege

Not just the buzz-cut guy.

The other three martial artists were equally embarrassed.

Yuan Bin’s face darkened; he was about to scold the buzz-cut man—these people’s actions here reflected his own face. If others didn’t understand, fine!

But he was exposed right to his face.

No matter how thick his skin, he was now thoroughly flustered.

“Hahaha~”

Before he could react, Li Luo stepped forward and extended his hand: “Brother, I was just joking—don’t take it to heart.”

It wasn’t a big deal anyway.

Besides, I’m the new guy.

If Yuan Bin started yelling, I’d ruin the martial arts director for good—he’s his man. A couple of sharp words don’t matter, but he might just write me down in his little notebook later.

Better to ease the tension myself.

You’re fine, I’m fine.

Everyone’s fine!

No choice—the situation demands it. A true man knows when to bend and when to stand firm.

“No, no.”

The buzz-cut man’s face flushed red as he quickly gripped Li Luo’s hand.

The other guy had offered him a way out—he had no reason not to take it. If he got sent back to Hong Kong, he’d lose all face, and besides, making money over there wasn’t easy.

Thinking of this, he looked at Li Luo with deep gratitude.

With the tension diffused, all the martial artists wore smiles.

Even Yuan Bin nodded inwardly.

When Chen Lifeng arrived at the gym, she saw a scene of warm camaraderie.

The sounds of “Huh!” and “Ha!” never stopped.

After Li Luo demonstrated the Wudang Seven-Star Sword Form once more, several Hong Kongers clapped and cheered enthusiastically—especially the buzz-cut man, who shouted the loudest—and then they all paired up to practice together.

The training was blazing hot.

“Ah Luo!”

Checking his watch, Yuan Bin slung an arm around Li Luo’s shoulder: “We’ve got some things to handle—let’s grab drinks later. Tonight, we don’t stop till we’re drunk.”

“Exactly, exactly!”

Du Yun joined in, thrusting out his fist: “Your kung fu’s good—how about testing your drinking skills next?”

“No problem.”

Smiling, Li Luo and the others exchanged fist bumps.

These guys had pretty good tempers—after all, they were martial artists. Their tempers flared fast and faded fast, and once they liked someone, they had nothing but goodwill.

They spoke the same language and all had real hand skills.

With so many common points, Li Luo grew close to them in just over ten minutes.

They picked up their things from the gym and waved goodbye.

Wiping the fine sweat from his forehead, Li Luo spread his arms toward Chen Lifeng as she approached: “Little nun, you took forever to change clothes.”

“Shut up.”

She swung a tiny fist at him, pouting: “Don’t call me that.”

Dressed in an Adidas tracksuit, the girl looked even more plain and fresh—her ponytail high, radiating youthful energy.

Too bad the clothes hid her figure completely.

If only she’d worn yoga pants!

Li Luo’s mind raced with thoughts, his gaze boldly sweeping over her body.

His intense stare made Chen Lifeng flustered.

But his handsome face and open expression didn’t feel lewd—she was flustered, yet secretly delighted.

After teasing her a bit, she curiously asked about what had just happened.

Li Luo laughed it off with a few vague words.

She pouted and walked over to the barbell area, picked up the two lightest dumbbells, and started lifting with heavy breaths. Soon, her eyes involuntarily drifted back to Li Luo.

He sheathed his longsword and switched to practicing long fist.

Precise and orderly.

His movements crackled with power.

Though the girl knew nothing of kung fu, she could tell his form was stunningly beautiful.

“Little Luo.”

Her eyes lit up—she had an idea: “What are you practicing? Can you teach me?”

“No problem~”

Li Luo dropped his stance and said bluntly: “But there’s a tuition fee.”

“Huh?”

A flicker of disappointment crossed her mind, but she still nodded and asked: “Fine—how much?”

She could hang out with those martial artists.

And after seeing his moves with her own eyes, paying to learn something would be worth it.

Only—

Her tone grew a little colder.

“No money.”

He twisted open the mineral water Du Yun had just handed him and took a big gulp.

Chen Lifeng frowned: “Then what do you want?”

“Just call me ‘Luo Gege.’”

Tightening the cap, Li Luo winked at her and tossed the bottle aside.

The girl’s earlobes turned instantly crimson.

As if they could drip blood.

“Luo Gege.”

After a hesitation, a voice as soft as a mosquito’s buzz sounded.

"Ah~ Before I knew it, I've grown old!" Li Luo scratched his ear and shook his head in mock sorrow: "Even my hearing is going bad. Sometimes people speak too softly—I can't even hear them."

“LUO GEGE!!!”

Chen Lifeng gritted her teeth.

This jerk looked younger than her.

“Ahh~”

This time, Li Luo heard clearly—he beamed: “Good little sister.”

Seeing the furious little nun charge at him with fists flying, he bolted away—her indignant cries and his loud laughter mingled in the gym.

The playfight ended quickly; they began teaching and learning.

Unlike before.

Li Luo’s movements were clean, precise, and disciplined—and under this emotional tension, Chen Lifeng’s fondness for him surged uncontrollably.

The clumsy little nun and the earnestly teaching Lin Pingzhi.

They responded to each other in perfect rhythm.

Until night deepened, and Du Yun dragged Li Luo off for drinks—only then did the girl trudge back to her room, exhausted.

For the next while, Li Luo’s life was incredibly full.

Either reading scripts or training with the crew at the gym—besides martial arts, there were posture coaches for body training, and even horseback riding skills couldn’t be neglected.

He was busier than ever.

He drank and played dice with the crew’s martial artists every few days, and in his spare time, trained with the little nun.

Day by day, night by night.

Their bond grew rapidly—they became playful, teasing friends.

Soon came the day for the character portrait shoot.

Makeup room.

Li Luo sat on the chair with eyes closed, letting the makeup artist work on his face.

“Done~”

Putting down her brush, the female makeup artist sighed enviously: “Your skin’s better than many actresses’. Perfect complexion—just a little touch-up and you’re flawless!”

Li Luo opened his eyes and looked ahead.

In the mirror stood a swordsman wearing a silver crown, his face as radiant as polished jade.

He nodded in satisfaction, then stood up.

Now his hair fell past his shoulders, his feet in black leather boots, clad in a white robe with a wide sash—radiating youthful vigor.

If judged purely on appearance,

He was far superior to the original actor.

“Clap, clap, clap~”

Applause came from the doorway, and a loud voice rang out: “Good, good—this is the Lin Pingzhi I want!”