Chapter 076: Want to Run With Me?

Chapter 076: Want to Run With Me?

The sudden sting left Su Qingying blank for a moment. Wu Chen had actually dared to hit her—and in a place like that. Her face went red in an instant, and an indescribable strangeness spread from behind her through her whole body.

“Tuck it in. I said tuck it in.” Wu Chen pressed his hand over the spot again, then steadied her waist. “Like this. Stand like this…” Finally he set both hands on her shoulders and eased them outward, the smallest change of angle.

“All right. Hit it. Mind your right knee. Watch how far it bends…”

He stepped back and signaled for her to swing.

How had it come to this?

Su Qingying couldn’t sort it out on the spot. Or rather, she didn’t try. She simply stood the way he’d told her to, tapped the ball into position with the club out of habit, and swung.

The dispenser didn’t set the ball on a tee—the little peg pushed into the ground that lifts the ball slightly and lets a player strike it better, generally used for long shots.

Su Qingying had never used one. It would have meant placing it by hand, and she played golf to vent. She didn’t want the extra trouble.

Touching the ball lightly with the club first, nudging it a little, was a habit of hers.

Thwack!

That one… carried a bit over a hundred meters.

“You really are hopeless. If you’re an athletic disaster, don’t play golf.” Saying it, Wu Chen took hold of her again. “I’ll teach you one more time. Bring your legs in. Straighten your arms out. Like this…”

He held her and hit once more.

That one traveled close to four hundred meters. An estimate, of course—it was already too far off to see clearly—but the course was flat and enormous, one unbroken sweep to the horizon.

“Again,” Wu Chen said, taking another step back.

And immediately after—smack!

He slapped her backside hard a second time.

“Tuck it in, tuck it in! Do you have anterior pelvic tilt or something? If you’re sick, go get treated.” His words were vicious. Anterior pelvic tilt was a pathological shift of the pelvis; the rear pushed back while the lower belly still pushed forward.

Su Qingying didn’t have the condition. Wu Chen was saying it on purpose.

He really did look like a coach with a temper.

Her face flushed again, red enough to drip, but astonishingly, she didn’t argue with him. She drew a deep breath and lowered her head to the ball.

At that moment Wu Chen raised his head slightly and glanced sideways, using the edge of his vision to check the flank of the course. Far, far off stood two men in black suits—Su Qingying’s bodyguards.

One of them already had a phone out and was making a call.

That was precisely what Wu Chen had been waiting to see: whether they would call, and when.

Earlier, after he’d struck her the first time, he had watched them. They hadn’t called then. It had felt as if they hadn’t come back to themselves yet—the sight of someone actually daring to do that to the eldest young lady had frightened them.

This time he had hit her again.

And this time they moved.

Wu Chen knew who they were calling. He even knew what they would say.

On the north side of the course, beside a sightseeing cart, the two bodyguards exchanged a few words. Then the taller, heavier of the two took out his phone and dialed a number.

“Hello, Madam, it’s me. Yes… Miss is playing golf at Tangsha. She came very early this morning… It isn’t trouble exactly, it’s just… Miss met a young man. Early twenties. We don’t know him. We’ve never seen him before…”

“We couldn’t hear what they were saying. You know Miss likes quiet when she plays and doesn’t let us stay close.”

“It’s just… that man suddenly took hold of Miss a moment ago, and Miss also… she was talking and laughing with him. Yes… yes… he even patted Miss on the butt. It looked like he was teaching her golf. Yes… very young… It seems Miss came today specifically to wait for him.”

“Mm. Mm. Yes, Madam.”

The tall bodyguard hung up, then turned and said quietly to the other, “Madam says to keep watch for now. She’ll come herself shortly. If that man leaves, you follow him.”

Bay 15, Area C.

“You really are hopeless. Are you an idiot? You’ve been playing golf for years, haven’t you?” Wu Chen was still lecturing her. Then he simply caught her by the arm, pulled her aside, took the club out of her hand, and stood in her place.

“Watch. I’ll hit one. Watch the motion.” As he spoke, the machine sent out another ball.

Wu Chen didn’t pause for a heartbeat. He turned into it, brought the club up, and swung down.

Golf wasn’t only about hitting far. It was about hitting accurately.

But right now all he needed was distance, so he could swing however he liked.

Crack!

That shot carried past four hundred meters too. It might have been his longest of the day, and close to his ceiling. There was no wind. To send a golf ball its absolute farthest—to break a world record, say—you couldn’t do it without a tailwind.

Su Qingying lifted her head and watched the ball fly farther and farther out.

Her right hand was still unconsciously pinching her left arm.

Because Wu Chen had pulled her a moment ago, and his grip had been strong. It hurt a little.

“Come on, come on. Your turn.” Wu Chen handed the club back and stepped aside. Su Qingying walked to the hitting position, settled into a nearly textbook stance, then shifted—and made it less textbook again.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Tuck it in. Tuck it in. Are you showing off how far it sticks out?”

Smack!

Wu Chen struck her for the third time.

Su Qingying flushed, her breathing uneven, and said softly, “I know.”

For the next half hour, the two of them seemed to forget why they had met at all.

Wu Chen taught her golf with total seriousness. At first he still held his tongue somewhat; later he grew steadily worse, until he had all but described the highly educated, highly intelligent, highly cultivated Su Qingying as an imbecile with negative learning capacity.

And Su Qingying, for her part, behaved… just as seriously.

She learned golf from him in earnest. She hardly asked anything. Whatever he told her to do, she did. When she did it badly, she got scolded. Sometimes she got hit.

“You are unbelievable. Keep hitting. I’m going to sit in the back and rest a while.” Wu Chen glanced at his watch and walked toward the rear.

Behind the hitting bay stood sofas and low tables set with fruit plates and drinks.

This was where the wealthy came to relax, so the arrangements were naturally excellent.

Wu Chen sat down on a sofa at the back, crossed one leg over the other, and watched Su Qingying at the bay a few meters ahead. She swung again. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Good shot! You’re improving!” Wu Chen said suddenly, praising her.

She stopped, propped herself on the club, and turned to look back at him. “I’m not dumb. And I’m not stupid.” With that she turned around again—and this time her stance was slightly off once more.

Wu Chen got up at once and walked over. He smacked her, then took hold of her and gripped the club. “Come on, come on. I’ll teach you again. Last time, all right?” The way he said it made it sound as though this student had nearly driven him to death with frustration. He was almost grinding his teeth.

Swing.

Crack!

That one flew nearly four hundred meters.

Su Qingying’s own best had only ever been a little over two hundred.

“All right. That’s enough playing.” Wu Chen watched the ball come down in the distance, let go of her, and turned his head.

“Are you leaving? Is something urgent?” she asked.

“Not urgent, exactly.” He glanced at his watch, then at her. “I’d estimate your mother is already on her way here with people to catch me.” Then, as though the gesture meant nothing, he cast a look into the distance and lowered his voice. “I noticed them making a call earlier.”

Su Qingying’s expression changed utterly.

She followed the direction of that casual glance, and understood everything at once.

The bodyguards had sold her out.

Her mother had almost certainly learned that she was out here playing golf with a man, and that there had been unusual physical contact between them. She would be coming to storm the place, and she would not be coming alone.

“Then—then what do we do?” In that moment Su Qingying was frantic.

“Run, obviously. Run first, before anyone can block us off.” Wu Chen was smiling as he said it, as though he found the whole thing enormously entertaining. Then, still smiling, he asked in a low voice, “Want to run with me?”