Chapter 5: The Running Emperor
"Boss Ye, find someone else. Manager Liao's tall, handsome—he'd nail it," Wu Yifan said. Manager Liao Zhiyuan was one of only two men at Infinity KTV, the backbone who ran the place when Ye was away. Without him, the KTV would've collapsed months ago.
"If he could do it, I wouldn't be begging you," Ye shot back.
"Sorry, I'm just a security guard here. I'll protect the place, but I'm not selling… whatever this is."
"Shame on you, slacking off like this as part of the team!" Ye scowled. "Think about it—you've been here a year. When have you *ever* 'performed'? KTV security's a walk in the park compared to bars. Fights? Manager Liao handles 'em. Drunks? He tosses 'em out. You sit in your air-conditioned room, collect 2,000 yuan a month, and sneak off to the mahjong parlor across the street. Now the KTV's in trouble, and you whine about 'selling out'? Newsflash: public relations is a *skill*. It's performing. Get your head out of the gutter."
Her words hit like a string of firecrackers. Wu Yifan, cornered, slouched into the chair across from her and lit a cigarette.
"Three thousand," Ye said, holding up three fingers. "Do this, and I'll bump your salary to 3,000. That's white-collar money in Beitian. Plus bonuses—10,000 to 100,000 yuan, depending on how much you save Infinity. You don't even own a phone. You *need* this."
Money talked. And 3,000 yuan? That was real money—enough to stop living paycheck to paycheck. Wu Yifan smirked. "Fine, I'll try. But no promises. I've never negotiated in my life. If you find someone better in a week, dump me."
"Deal. Starting tomorrow, study these—" She slid over two books: *Women's Weaknesses* and *The Art of Masculine Poise*. "I'll get you a new suit, a haircut—"
"Nope," Wu cut her off. "No makeovers. Take it or leave it."
Ye stared at him, then sighed. "What *do* you want, Wu Yifan?"
What did he want?
Before today, he wouldn't have known. But now? He wanted to crush every task the Enhancer threw at him, to stop being a slave to "enhancement points" and become something *real*. With endless points, he could do anything—lift cars, outrun bullets, maybe even charm women without scripts. But he'd have to play smart: hoard points for emergencies, but use enough to survive the next wild task.
He couldn't tell Ye any of that, though. Clearing his throat, he put on a grave face: "I want… cross-strait reunification, national prosperity, true social harmony—"
"Get out."
Back in his security booth, Wu Yifan grinned, rolling the 5 enhancement points around in his mind like loose change. Turns out, he wasn't as "above it all" as he thought. Temptation hit hard—even saints would crack for a big enough payout. Monks chanted about detachment, but didn't they secretly crave enlightenment? He was doing good, keeping his cool with this whole Enhancer mess. That counted for something.
After Wu left, Ye leaned back in her chair,嘴角 twitching upward. She'd sworn off men years ago, but there was something about Wu's eyes earlier—those pools of raw, aching sadness—that had made her pause. He was a slacker, sure, but that act? It felt *real*, like he was hiding a story too heavy to tell.
A little颓废 (tuífèi—listlessness), a little bitterness, a dash of reckless defiance—deadly combo on a man. Ms. Wang, that icy widow running Yingjie Industries? She'd eaten up smoother talkers than Manager Liao. But a guy with that "broken poet" vibe? Maybe, just maybe…
Ye grabbed her bag and headed home. She valued her beauty above all—no late nights, no stress. With Manager Liao in charge, she could afford to unwind. Her idea of "unwinding"? Scrolling forums, trading tips with other women on "maximizing male generosity" and "dodging clingy losers."
That night, she clicked onto a video site, and one clip stopped her cold: "The Running Emperor—600,000 views in 6 hours."
Six hundred thousand? She'd never seen numbers like that. Even viral cat videos topped out at 100k in a day. Heart racing, she hit play.
Thirty seconds. A motorcycle thief snatching a bag, a young man sprinting after him. At first, Ye shrugged. Fast, sure, but nothing mind-blowing. Then the screen froze, and text popped up—*with math*.
Remember Tricycle Brother (a viral sensation who walked away from a 10-car pileup)?
Remember Running Brother (outran a bus in a viral clip)?
Remember Train Brother (dodged two speeding trains like they were standing still)?
They're legends, but they're *human*. Their feats fit in our tiny brains.
Then there's the Running Emperor. (Forgive the name—no word does him justice.)
Humans have chased 100m glory for centuries. The record? 9.77 seconds, set by Asafa Powell in 2005. Unbroken.
The Running Emperor? He covered 213 meters. In 15.65 seconds.
Yes. 213 meters. 15.65 seconds.
We can't explain it. We can't comprehend it. He's rewritten what we thought was possible.
Comment below. Scream. Cry. This is history.
Ye's jaw dropped. She replayed the clip, counting the seconds, squinting at the distance markers. 213 meters in 15.65? That meant he was running faster than 13.6 meters per second—faster than Powell's record-breaking 10.24 meters per second in that 100m sprint.
This wasn't luck. This was superhuman.
She scrolled the comments, thousands pouring in:
"Is this CGI? No way!"
"Call NASA. This guy's not from Earth."
"Who is he? North Tian's got a secret hero!"
Ye leaned closer, freezing the frame on the runner's back. The haircut, the jacket—something tugged at her memory. She'd seen that slouch before, that way of leaning into a sprint like he was born to run.
No. It couldn't be.
But…
She replayed it, zooming in. The runner turned for a split second, and there it was—the faint scar on his left cheek, from a bar fight he'd broken up last month.
Wu Yifan. Her lazy, "I just want world peace" security guard.
Ye laughed, half-hysterical. No wonder he'd been acting weird. He wasn't just a slacker—he was hiding something. Something *big*.
She picked up her phone, dialing Manager Liao. "Hey, keep an eye on Wu Yifan tomorrow. And… dig up anything you can on 'The Running Emperor.'"
If he could outrun a motorcycle like that, maybe negotiating with Ms. Wang wasn't such a long shot.
Maybe, just maybe, she'd picked the right man.
Outside, the city hummed. Wu Yifan, none the wiser, sat in his booth, staring at his watch. 5 points, muscle strength unlocked. Tomorrow would bring new tasks, new chaos.
He had no idea he was already viral. That the world was hunting for "The Running Emperor." That his quiet life at Infinity KTV was about to explode—all because of 15.65 seconds.
Ye shut her laptop, grinning. This was going to be fun.