The men blocking the corridor were tall and broad-shouldered, clearly locals of Country Z. The one in front had a tattoo snaking down his arm, the kind of mark that suggested he carried some weight on the streets.
The moment their eyes fell on Celia, they stopped short. The tattooed leader muttered something in the local dialect, his expression twisting with interest. "Damn, this girl's gorgeous."
Celia's stomach tightened. The last thing she wanted abroad was to get caught up with troublemakers—especially now, when the team was here for the competition. An incident could ruin everything.
She quickened her pace.
But the men followed.
Her pulse spiked. She racked her brain for a way to shake them off—then, just ahead, she spotted a tall, familiar figure. Nathaniel Fu's dignified silhouette stood like an anchor in the chaos.
Without hesitation, Celia darted forward, slipped her small hand through his arm, and called out sweetly, her voice deliberately high and soft, "Husband!"
Nathaniel froze mid-step. He hadn't expected her to latch onto him first thing in the morning—let alone call him that.
His dark brows lifted. "What did you just call me?"
"Husband," Celia repeated, her lashes fluttering as she winked up at him.
Nathaniel's gaze flicked past her, landing on the men trailing her. His expression hardened. With one swift motion, he slid an arm around Celia's slender waist, pulling her firmly against him. His body heat pressed through her thin blouse, and the sudden closeness made her breath hitch. Steering her toward the elevator, he murmured by her ear, his voice low and husky, "How did you manage to provoke them?"
"I didn't!" Celia whispered back, her cheeks flaming. "I was just walking down the corridor and they suddenly started following me."
Nathaniel's lips curved with the faintest edge of irony. His breath fanned against the shell of her ear, making her shiver. If he hadn't noticed she was late coming down, felt uneasy, and come to check on her—she could have been cornered by now.
The elevator dinged open. Nathaniel guided her inside, his arm still around her. He didn't release her even when the doors slid shut. Instead, his narrow eyes—sharp, glacial, unreadable—locked with the tattooed man's stare until the barrier cut them off.
Celia's heart was racing so fast she swore Nathaniel could feel it against his chest. She dared not look up.
The incident didn't derail the competition. The World Championships started on time.
After two grueling rounds, the seven-member team from Tsinghua University triumphed, clinching the gold medal. Applause thundered through the hall, bouquets raining down on the stage. Nathaniel and Celia, seated at the front of the audience, both rose to clap. Their relentless preparation had paid off—they were champions.
When the ceremony ended, Nathaniel stood. "Congratulations, everyone. You've worked hard for this. Tonight, dinner's on me—let's celebrate properly."
Cheers erupted.
"Really, Professor Fu? Then we won't hold back—we're going for the fanciest seafood buffet in Country Z!"
Nathaniel's mouth quirked. "Fine by me."
That evening, the group gathered at the Eternal Age Hotel, the most luxurious spot in the city. Laughter filled the air as they moved among the buffet tables.
Celia, balancing her plate, eyed a tray of bright red crabs. She hesitated. She'd once heard that eating certain crab dishes could trigger cravings—or even cause excessive drooling. Was that true?
Frowning, she pulled out her phone and opened her browser, ready to search.
Then an arm slid smoothly around her shoulders from behind, warm and firm.
Her body stiffened. She turned her head—Nathaniel.
"Why are you—hugging me here?" she whispered, flustered.
"Don't move," he murmured, leaning so close his lips brushed against her hair. His voice was a velvet rasp that made her skin tingle. "They're here. The same men from this morning. They've seen you."
Celia's eyes flicked up—and sure enough, the tattooed man stood across the room, watching her like a predator, his gaze dark with interest.
Nathaniel's grip tightened around her. "I noticed him at the competition earlier. He wasn't there for the match—he was watching you. Now he's even more fixated."
Celia swallowed hard, heat rushing to her cheeks. She tilted her face toward him, panic and trust mingling in her eyes. "What do we do?"
Nathaniel's gaze dropped briefly to her lips before lifting back to her eyes, his arm tightening ever so slightly. "Stay close to me. Don't leave my side."
Her heart thudded violently, not only from fear—but from the way he said it.