The Exclusive Bodyguard of the Top Idol - Chapter 47

It wasn’t until late at night that Ren Jiao finally understood the meaning behind Ji Qingshi’s mischievous smirk. In her memory, Ji Qingshi rarely smiled like that. The woman exuded an innate sense of integrity befitting a police officer. Though she occasionally cracked jokes, most of the time, she was just plain dull.

That smirk, paired with the reminder to “sleep early,” made Ren Jiao certain that something was up. But no matter how hard she racked her brain, she couldn’t figure out why. Tossing and turning in her dormitory bed, she picked up her phone several times, wanting to ask Ji Qingshi directly, but ultimately gave up. Her gut told her that even if she asked, the woman probably wouldn’t reply.

After what felt like ages of restlessness, she finally dozed off. Only to be jolted awake by the piercing sound of an assembly horn cutting through the night.

It was a true wake-up call. Ren Jiao had never experienced such a deafening “alarm” in her life, and now she knew exactly how it felt.

Groggily, she fumbled for her phone to check the time, only to be utterly speechless. She yanked the blanket over her head in frustration.

Two o’clock. Two in the morning—the deepest, sleepiest hour of the night!

She buried herself under the covers, trying to block out the blaring horn, but it was futile. The sound seemed endless, relentless.

Soon, she heard movement in the hallway. Footsteps multiplying rapidly, sharp and distinct in the silent night.

Not long after, someone knocked on her dorm door. Ren Jiao stubbornly kept the blanket over her head, refusing to face reality. She wasn’t stupid! She had a rough idea of what was happening but she just didn’t want to get up. Maybe, just maybe, as an outsider temporarily joining the training, she wouldn’t be held to the same strict standards?

But reality swiftly shattered that hope.

“Jiaojiao, hurry up and assemble! We’re already five minutes late. Another five, and we’ll be punished with laps!”

Ren Jiao shot up from the bed, exhaled in resignation, and rolled off. Now she fully understood the meaning behind Ji Qingshi’s smirk. This was the trap waiting for her.

In five minutes, Ren Jiao managed to throw on her clothes, rush out the door, and sprint into formation. Thankfully, she wasn’t late.

At the front of the group stood Ji Qingshi, clad in a crisp training uniform. Even in late June, the weather in Bincheng wasn’t hot, let alone in the remote mountainous outskirts where temperatures were naturally lower especially at night. Ren Jiao had thrown on a training jacket before heading out, but Ji Qingshi stood there in just a short-sleeved shirt, posture ramrod straight, not a hint of shivering.

The rest of the team stood just as rigidly, hands uniformly clasped behind their backs, feet in an at-ease stance.

Ren Jiao was probably the only one in the entire formation wearing a jacket. Feeling awkward, she mimicked the others, standing motionless, not daring to fidget.

Ji Qingshi ordered a headcount, and once everyone was accounted for, she led the team out.

Ren Jiao followed silently. She had been dead tired when she left the dorm, but the mountain night wind had jolted her awake. Now, as the team marched steadily through the darkness, she had no time to dwell on whether she was still sleepy.

Their destination was the Bamboo Sea. The team halted at a platform square within the bamboo forest, merging with the male sniper team that had already arrived. Only then did Ren Jiao realize that many other teams had already gathered there, the entire square illuminated under bright lights.

Everyone had gathered, and at the front of the square, a leader was giving a speech. Ren Jiao caught bits of it. Something about summarizing the effectiveness of tonight’s emergency assembly.

Apparently, some boys from the male dormitory had been late and were publicly called out by name, criticized without mercy.

Ren Jiao pricked up her ears and listened carefully, just in time to hear the names of actors from her own crew.

She pursed her lips silently, her gaze drifting to Ji Qingshi standing at the front of the sniper team, her back straight as a pine tree.

After the speech ended, the team leaders reorganized their squads and led everyone back to the dorms. A brief lecture downstairs, and then they were dismissed to return to sleep.

Without her phone, Ren Jiao had no idea how long this whole ordeal had taken. All she knew was that it was exhausting, truly draining.

She still had to climb three flights of stairs. Staring at the steps ahead, she almost wished she could squeeze into a first-floor dorm instead.

“Not going up yet? Just standing here counting the steps?”

Ji Qingshi’s voice suddenly came from behind her, startling Ren Jiao into turning around reflexively.

Ji Qingshi stood there, looking down at her with a faint expression. “If you don’t want to sleep, at least don’t block the way.”

“Oh, right!” Ren Jiao couldn’t help but shuffle aside.

Ji Qingshi gave her a glance before striding up the stairs. A beat later, Ren Jiao snapped out of it and hurried after her in small steps.

At the dormitory door, Ji Qingshi turned to her. “You did alright today. At least you weren’t late.”

Ren Jiao pouted and muttered under her breath, “I’m so tired, though.”

Ji Qingshi’s eyes curved slightly. “Get used to it. Emergency assemblies like this are normal.”

“Do you get called out for missions in the middle of the night too?”

“Occasionally. It doesn’t happen often, but we have to stay highly alert at all times. All that training is for that one possible ‘just in case.’ Some bad things are best if they never happen, but someone still has to be ready for them.”

Ji Qingshi’s words struck a chord in Ren Jiao. Before, when Ji Qingshi had been by her side, their conversations had always revolved around Ren Jiao’s work, rarely touching on Ji Qingshi’s own life. Now the roles were reversed. Ren Jiao had stepped into Ji Qingshi’s world, experiencing and understanding everything about her firsthand.

After being dragged out for an hour in the middle of the night, they still had to get up before six in the morning for another assembly, followed by drills.

Jogging sluggishly in formation, Ren Jiao felt like a walking corpse. This kind of life was terrifying. Why did she have to push herself so hard right after joining the team? She’d assumed there’d at least be some buffer period for outsiders like them.

But after breakfast, when they returned to the dorms to tidy up and headed to the training grounds, she saw the two male actors who’d been late the previous night running laps. Ren Jiao swallowed hard and resolved to grit her teeth and push through. No way was she getting punished!

The SWAT team’s training was highly specialized, and as outsiders, Ren Jiao and the others couldn’t keep up with much of it. So when actual training began, she realized all the crew members had been grouped together under Ji Qingshi’s sole leadership.

“The squads you’re usually assigned to are for daily life. Since you can’t handle the regular training yet, I’ll be setting your training regimen.”

“Your director said he wants to toughen you all up, but looking at you now—everyone’s dragging their feet, completely lifeless. This won’t do!”

Although these celebrities and actors weren’t exactly living in the lap of luxury, they were still relatively well-off and comfortable in their daily lives. Suddenly being thrown into military-style training left them completely drained, especially after last night’s ordeal particularly for those two who’d just been punished with extra running.

To help them adapt, Ji Qingshi had prepared a training regimen tailored for new recruits, guiding them from the ground up. In addition to basic daily physical conditioning, she taught them simple combat techniques, martial arts, and even marksmanship.

Ji Qingshi sat cross-legged on the ground, a blade of grass between her teeth, watching them practice their punches. A single set of punches somehow turned into a dozen different variations among the group, amusing her to no end. The men, especially, were inexplicably weak. Their punches lacked power, their movements were sloppy, and they couldn’t even remember the sequences properly.

The actresses fared slightly better. At least their attitudes were earnest. Even if they couldn’t recall the moves perfectly, they put effort into every punch, even if their form was off.

The only standout was Ren Jiao. As a former idol group member, dance was second nature to her, and that foundation made learning martial arts much easier. Her movements were more precise, and her flexibility was excellent.

Ji Qingshi squinted at her, expression unreadable but inwardly pleased. As expected of the girl I took a liking to. She’s just better than the rest. With her level of aptitude, she’d have no trouble making it as an actress.

Not that Ji Qingshi knew much about acting. She had no idea that good fight choreography didn’t automatically translate to good acting; emotional and dialogue-driven scenes were the real foundation of performance.

Once the set was finished, Ji Qingshi, still chewing on the blade of grass, tilted her head up to look at them.

“None of you men put any power into your punches. Didn’t you notice?”

“And if you can’t remember the moves, fine, but at least put some force behind them. I’m not even asking for perfect form right now. Can’t you manage that much?”

“Again!”

With that, she pushed herself up from the ground effortlessly. It was almost uncanny, no one saw how she did it. One moment she was sitting cross-legged, the next she was standing, without so much as a hand on the ground for support. Her core and leg strength were terrifying.

Ren Jiao watched with shining eyes, openly adoring.

Ji Qingshi cleared her throat, ignoring her gaze, and ordered them to repeat the drill. She then strolled behind them.

This particular set was meant to train power and stability. Ji Qingshi had emphasized from the start that to strike an enemy effectively, you had to be steady on your feet first. If you toppled over, the rest was pointless.

Easier said than done, though.

Circling behind one of the men, she suddenly swept at his legs. The guy, towering at over six feet had no time to react or brace himself before he was sent stumbling.

Ji Qingshi at least had the decency to catch him before he hit the ground, steadying his balance.

“With how weak you all are, the enemy wouldn’t even need to pull out a gun on the battlefield.”

Before they started training, the director had mentioned that they needed to truly cultivate the spirit and demeanor of special police officers. Right now, they were far from it. They still looked undisciplined. Ji Qingshi was serious about training them, treating them exactly as he would new recruits, with no leniency whatsoever.

As the days of training passed, the weather grew increasingly hot, especially under the scorching sun. The artists, who had once had fair and delicate skin, all turned noticeably darker within less than a week.

After a week of intensive training, Cen Shu came by with the head director. From a distance, she almost didn’t recognize Ren Jiao.

That “chocolate-skinned” girl running with a rifle on her back. Was that really her artist?