The Secret of the Yoga Club: The Women's Identity is Not Simple

When Raymond Lam woke up in He Qianwen's villa, the person next to him was already empty.

The pillows were neatly arranged, and the blankets were tucked back in. On the bedside table was a sticky note with He Qianwen's handwriting: "Something came up at the company, I have to go now. Breakfast is on the table, just heat it up in the microwave. I've asked the legal department to prepare the official version of the line contract today, and it will be sent out this afternoon."

Lin Feng put the note back on the bedside table, took a shower in the bathroom, and then went downstairs to heat up the fried eggs, bacon, and bread on the dining table.

After finishing my meal, I changed into clean clothes and called Kui Zi to come pick me up.

Kui Zi drove him to the entrance of Shuntong Logistics' parking lot. Lao Qian was squatting at the entrance of the break room eating a boxed lunch. When he saw Lin Feng's car arrive, he quickly stood up to greet him, still chewing rice that he hadn't swallowed.

"President Lin, I heard we're going to cooperate with Tianlong Group? They're a big shot in the river and sea transportation industry! With such a powerful backer, our fleet won't have to worry about not having work anymore!" Old Qian grinned, his face full of wrinkles. Several other drivers gathered around, asking about the specific details of the cooperation.

Some say Tianlong's trucks all have imported front ends, some say they run major inter-provincial routes, and others ask if they will get a raise.

Lin Feng stood on the steps outside the lounge, waiting for everyone to quiet down before speaking. "The cooperation is basically finalized. Tianlong will subcontract the fixed routes from Hehai to several surrounding cities to Shuntong, and a batch of vehicles and drivers will be integrated into our fleet. For everyone, there will be more work, and therefore more commission. But there is one condition—the vehicle dispatch rate must be maintained at over 95%, and the customer complaint rate must be controlled at zero. If you can achieve this, everyone's wages will only increase, not decrease."

The drivers exchanged glances and nodded. Old Qian placed his lunchbox on the toolbox beside him and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Don't worry, Boss Lin, these guys only slacked off before because there was no work. Now that there's more work and higher commissions, who wouldn't want to make more trips?"

Lin Feng asked Kui Zi to take the things he had prepared yesterday out of the trunk of the car. Each driver received a pack of cigarettes and a case of energy drinks; the items were inexpensive but practical.

As Kui Zi handed out the cigarettes one by one, the drivers' expressions varied. Old Qian took the cigarettes, looked at the brand, paused for a moment, and said, "These cigarettes aren't cheap, Mr. Lin, you're too kind."

Lin Feng waved his hand and said it wasn't just politeness, it was what you deserved.

Then he added that he asked Lao Qian to readjust all the shift schedules this afternoon, to reserve manpower in advance for the new routes that would be added, and to have the new drivers run a couple of trips with the truck to familiarize themselves with the routes before being scheduled separately.

Old Qian responded and said he would definitely get it done.

At noon, Lin Feng ate a quick boxed lunch in the logistics company's office and then took out his phone to send a message to Yang Ru.

"At 1 PM today, at the Cinema on the fourth floor of the China World Trade Center, in Hall 3. Buy your own ticket and go in. Sit in the last row, on the far left, against the wall. Once you get there, don't talk to me, and no matter what happens, don't make a sound. If you can't do it, you can give up."

After sending the message, he put his phone back in his pocket and took out a palm-sized remote control from the drawer.

The remote control has only two buttons: a power switch and an intensity adjustment button.

He bought this when he passed by an adult products store that morning. The store owner, a middle-aged woman in her forties, wrapped the item up and handed it to him without batting an eye, and even asked if he wanted to get a membership card.

Lin Feng said no need, paid by scanning the code and left.

I picked up the remote control and flipped through it.

Yang Ru hasn't messaged him for three whole days. Ever since she assigned him those tasks, she's vanished into thin air.

But Lin Feng knew she wasn't giving up; she was just enduring it, wanting to see how long she could hold out.

Sure enough, her message came on the fourth day. She didn't say much, just asked him to give her a task.

Lin Feng put the remote control in his pocket, stood up, straightened his clothes, went out, hailed a taxi, and headed straight for the China World Trade Center.

The movie had been going on for over ten minutes, and there weren't many people in Theater 3, with fewer than ten people sitting sparsely.

The movie being shown is a recently released romance film. On the screen, the male lead is standing in the rain, shouting to the female lead through her window, while sentimental background music plays from the speakers.

Yang Ru sat in the last row, on the far left, against the wall. She was wearing a dark blue dress with the neckline neatly tied to her collarbone. The hem of the dress was below her knees, and she wasn't wearing stockings. She was wearing a pair of white flat shoes.

Her hair was loose over her shoulders, and she wore very light makeup, looking like an ordinary office worker who was watching a movie alone during her lunch break.

But her hands betrayed her; her hands were clasped together on her knees, her thumb rubbing back and forth between the web of her other hand and her thumb.

When Raymond Lam walked in through the side door, he was wearing a mask and had pulled the brim of his baseball cap down low.

Without looking in Yang Ru's direction, they walked around the back aisle to make sure there were no familiar faces in the entire screening room and that no one had noticed them.

Then he silently sat down a row behind Yang Ru, keeping a diagonal distance from her.

From this angle, he could clearly see her profile and shoulders, but it would be difficult for others to connect the two of them.

Yang Ru felt someone sit down behind her, and her shoulders tensed slightly, but she didn't turn around.

These were the rules Lin Feng set for her: during the mission, she was not allowed to look at him, speak, or do anything that might attract attention.

Lin Feng took out his phone and sent her a message: "Open your right hand and put it on the armrest of the seat."

Yang Ru glanced down at her phone screen, then opened her right hand and placed it on the armrest, palm down.

Her fingers were beautiful, long and slender, with short nails painted with a layer of clear nail polish.

Lin Feng stood up from the back row and silently walked to her side.

Without saying a word, he put his things down and turned back to his seat in the back row.

Yang Ru clutched the box in her hand, glanced down at it, bit her lower lip, and tightened her fingers slightly, but she didn't turn around or make a sound.

Lin Feng sat in the back row.

Yang Ru clasped her hands on her knees, her back ramrod straight, her eyes fixed on the screen, but her pupils were clearly unfocused.

On the screen, the male lead was still shouting in the rain, and the background music was incredibly sentimental. In the front row, a couple was whispering to each other, completely unaware of what the woman in the corner of the last row was going through.

Yang Ru's breathing changed from steady to restrained, and the dark blue dress on her chest rose and fell more noticeably with each breath.

Lin Feng observed for a moment, and Yang Ru's feet curled slightly under the seat, the toes of her canvas shoes lightly touching the ground.

She bit her lower lip even tighter.

Yang Ru gripped the armrest of the seat with her left hand and covered her mouth with her right hand, pretending to cough. Her forehead was covered in sweat, and stray hairs clung to her temples.

Several times she almost jumped out of her seat, but she held on.

When the movie ended, Yang Ru slumped in her seat, panting heavily, a small patch of her dress damp with sweat.

Her hair was disheveled and stuck to her neck, and her lips were red from being bitten so much.

As Raymond Lam walked past her, he lowered his voice and said, "Ten-minute break, wait for me in section C of parking lot B2."

Yang Ru found Lin Feng in the far corner of parking lot C, got into his car, and the two drove to the basement in the west of the city.

I started yoga training.

Looking at it from behind, Lin Feng had to admit that it was indeed a feast for the eyes.

The training lasted for more than an hour. After it ended, she lay on the leather bed for a long time before sitting up. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were unfocused, and she felt limp as if her bones had been removed.

Her back was soaked with sweat, the dark gray fabric clinging to her shoulder blades and outlining the lines of her muscles. Her hair was spread out on the pillow, with a few wet strands sticking to the side of her neck.

She turned over and slowly sat up, took the bottled water Lin Feng handed her and gulped down several mouthfuls, then wiped the water stains from the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand.

Her cheeks were still flushed, but the curve of her lips was very obvious.

"Coach Lin, what does it look like from behind?" she suddenly asked, her voice still a little hoarse.