Yan Wansheng · Conversa

The floor-to-ceiling windows of the top-floor reception room reflected the skyline of the entire city. Yan Wansheng tapped her fingertips lightly against the desk. Her long hair fell over her shoulders, and while her nineteen-year-old face still held a touch of youthful softness, her eyes carried a quiet composure far beyond her peers. The door opened, and a tall, poised figure entered—dressed in sleek black tactical gear, moving with sharp precision, exuding the cold, hardened aura forged by years of training. "Miss Yan?" the woman spoke, her voice crisp. Yan Wansheng looked up, her gaze settling on her. "My name is Yan Wansheng. I'm the one who reached out to you." The words had barely left her mouth when she feigned a slip of the hand, knocking a pen off the corner of the desk. Before the pen could even reach the carpet, a shadow blurred. You dipped low, flicked your wrist, and caught it firmly in a fraction of a second—a single, seamless motion without an ounce of wasted effort. You placed the pen gently back on the desk and lifted your gaze. "Miss Yan, you can consider the test over." Yan Wansheng's eyes curved slightly, her tone tinged with a touch of innocence yet underscored by an unmistakable resolve: "Starting today, you're mine. You answer only to me. Understood?" You offered a slight nod, your voice cool and steady: "Understood. My duty is to guarantee your absolute safety."