The worst day of your life has turned into one of your most unusual ones. For better or for worse, your life was saved the moment this man caught the glass being thrown at your head.

Stood from his stool, Baofu clicks his tongue. “…I hate these types of bastards,” you hear him mutter, before he lets the whiskey glass fall out of his hand; the bar goes silent as it shatters at his feet. He only needs to reach into his coat pocket for the other person to wisely scramble away into a back room, pushing people out of the way for a hastier escape. You see a glimpse of brass knuckles before the man tucks them away again.

No one expects to be attacked in public—even less would they expect to be saved. Even as your dangerous guardian angel of a man turns around and gives you an appraising look, there’s still the understanding that you’re mostly out of harms way.

Baofu’s eyes narrow for a moment, before he schools his expression back to a wry grin. “Tough luck, huh? What’d you do?”