*Chapter 247: Are You Really Preparing to Be a Strong Woman?*

"Richard, Alvin said you can predict punches. How did you train for that?"

Paul came over to ask after their evening training session.

"Predict punches? What’s that?" Richard asked curiously, taking a sip of water.

"It's like this—predicting the opponent's movement ahead of time. For example, if I'm about to tilt my head, your fist is already waiting for me before I even move, so my head runs straight into your punch," Paul explained while gesturing.

Richard chuckled and shook his head. "There's no such thing as predicting punches. It's just like a blind cat catching a dead mouse—pure luck."

"I don’t believe that. I've fought over 30 matches and thrown thousands of punches, and I’ve never gotten lucky even once. Yet in one match, you predicted four or five times correctly. That’s some crazy luck. Are you worried I'll learn your secret if you tell me?" Paul replied, clearly annoyed.

Richard shook his head, then suddenly reached out and slapped at Paul's face.

Paul flinched in surprise, turning his head just in time. But before he could fully react, Richard's fist was already waiting for him on the other side, causing Paul's face to collide with it.

Without saying anything, Richard threw another punch at Paul's stomach. This punch looked fierce, making Paul instinctively hunch over. As he did so, his head slightly leaned forward, once again hitting Richard's waiting fist.

Richard then followed up with a third punch aimed at Paul's face. Paul raised his hands to block, but Richard's other fist struck his left rib. Paul twisted his body to dodge, only for his head to collide with Richard’s fist for the second time.

"Now do you get it?" Richard asked, pulling back his fists.

"Get what? Why did you hit me for no reason?" Paul grumbled, rubbing his ribs, which were aching from the punch without gloves.

Richard shook his head. "It's about instinctive reactions. When I used to practice fighting, I studied my opponents' reactions extensively.

Generally, how does a person react after getting hit? Which part of their body was struck? How much force was behind the blow? How strong is their reaction? Based on their responses, I would then make my next move, improving the efficiency of my attacks.

When I first started using this method, I got it wrong often and paid the price. But after getting hit enough times, my accuracy improved.

In the boxing ring, I also studied people's instinctive reactions to attacks and used this method during matches.

It's not just in boxing but also in acting. You know that action scenes in movies are mostly staged.

It’s not easy to fake those moves convincingly either. My acting coach used to say you need to observe a lot—watch how ordinary people instinctively react in certain situations, then apply that to your acting to make it more realistic and impactful.

Besides acting, there's also micro-expressions in criminal investigation. By observing an opponent’s micro-expressions, you can tell their emotions and state of mind—whether they’re agitated or calm.

People in different states have different instinctive reactions. If you don't notice that, you won't accurately predict their actions.

I’ve been studying and competing like this for four or five years now and have gained some insights. If you want to learn, I can teach you."

"Sounds like a hassle. Acting and micro-expressions? Just hearing it gives me a headache," Paul replied, frowning deeply.

"If you want to learn a special skill, you have to put in some effort," Richard said with a light smile.

"Forget it, I won’t learn it. This fighting style sounds mentally exhausting, like you’re always calculating. I prefer to strike hard and don’t care for tricks," Paul said, shaking his fists with a laugh.

Richard shook his head. "It's probably for the best. I didn't tell you earlier because I was worried it might affect you. Even though you say you won’t learn, I know you'll secretly try to figure it out. Don’t argue—I’ve lost many of my moves to you that way.

This time, you better not steal it. You like to strike directly and with power; that’s your strength. If you think too much, it’ll slow down your punches, and once your punches lose their sharpness, you’ll lose your advantage.

Besides, you already experienced it—when I attacked you earlier, some were real moves and some were feints. This style mixes reality with illusion and requires precise control over your power. But since you’re not that skilled at controlling your strength, it won’t help you even if you learn it."

Paul sighed deeply and shook his head. "Richard, I suddenly realize how pitiful it is to be your opponent. You’re already so strong, yet you’ve hidden so many deadly moves. How are your opponents supposed to survive?

Why don’t you stay out of the heavyweight division? You’ve already crushed all the light heavyweight boxers, leaving them in despair. If you come to the heavyweight division, how are we supposed to live?"

"There are plenty of strong fighters in the heavyweight division. I can’t say for sure that I can beat them all. For instance, that seven-foot-tall Valuev—I’m not confident I can defeat him," Richard said with a smile.

"Heh, I don’t believe it," Paul replied.

After chatting for a while, Richard took a shower, changed his clothes, and drove back to the Tribeca apartment.

Lately, Gisele didn’t have much work, so she enrolled in NYU’s Business School, taking two classes per week over three years, with tuition costing $68,000.

At home, she often studied with textbooks and materials.

When Richard returned home, Bündchen was sitting on the balcony, wearing large-framed glasses, holding a book in one hand, and tapping her head with a pen while a cup of tea sat on the table beside her.

Richard smiled softly and quietly walked over, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind and kissing her cheek.

"Honey, are you really preparing to be a strong woman?"

"Aren’t I already a strong woman?" she replied.*Gisele smiled with a slight curl of her lips.*

"Yes, you definitely are. You became a millionaire at twenty-one, while I didn't reach that milestone until I was twenty-one and a half. You’re stronger than me."

"Haha, of course!"

Gisele chuckled, lifting her chin with a proud smile as she picked up a financial management magazine. "Do you want to take a look? Having money without knowing how to manage it just makes you a rich person, but knowing how to invest turns you into a capitalist."

"So, would you say I’m a rich person or a capitalist?"

Richard asked as he sat down and flipped through the magazine.

"You? You’re just a stock trader. When a financial crisis hits and your stocks turn into worthless paper, you'll become a pauper,"

Gisele teased, wrinkling her nose.

"Haha, spot on. So, what do you think I should do?"

Richard laughed.

"Invest in real industries. My professor says that, in terms of economic, social, and ecological benefits, investing in real industries is far superior to virtual capital trading. Many people spend decades trading stocks and end up with nothing. Didn’t a lot of people jump off buildings earlier this year?"

Gisele spoke confidently, holding her book.

Richard stroked his chin and nodded slightly. "You’re right; some people trade stocks and end up with nothing. But I’ve traded my way into becoming a shareholder. Don’t forget, the Google search engine you use so often only succeeded because of investments from your boyfriend. Are you saying my investments aren’t meaningful?"

"Is that so?"

Gisele glanced at the computer and smiled faintly before wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss. "Sweetheart, you’re amazing!"

"Haha, of course. But you’re right; I’ll also get into real industries when I have the chance. I’m planning to start a sportswear brand in the future. You should learn more about business now, so when our clothing brands cross-invest, you can become the chairwoman of the board. How about that?"

"Sure, I’ll become an excellent entrepreneur,"

Gisele replied with a smile.

"No, a major capitalist!"

Richard laughed as he held her.

"‘Capitalist’ doesn’t sound good; I just want to be an entrepreneur,"

Gisele said as she leaned against him, flipping through her book with her legs crossed, humming a little tune, clearly relaxed.

Richard took a sniff of her. "Entrepreneur, have you cooked yet?"

Gisele blinked her long lashes and lowered her head.

"How about we go out to eat?"

Richard asked, cupping her face with a smile.

"No, I’ll cook now,"

Gisele replied, pushing him away. Just as she was about to walk inside, she turned back. "If you want to eat, come help!"

"Alright!"

Richard chuckled, washed his hands, and joined her in the kitchen.

"Sweetheart, there’s something I might need your help with,"

Richard said as he started washing vegetables.

"What is it?"

"On Friday, The Lord of the Rings is premiering. Do you have time to accompany me to the event?"

"Depends on your behavior,"

Gisele teased, smiling playfully.

"What behavior?"

Richard wrapped his arms around her, kissing her ear. "How about we head to the bedroom now? I promise you’ll be satisfied."

"Stop it! Alright, I'll go with you,"

Gisele rolled her eyes at him. "Before, whenever a movie premiered, you always had to do promotion. Why not this time?"

"My scenes weren’t finished back then, and the distributor didn’t arrange anything. After the release, I’ll have to do some promotion for a few days. I was planning to stay home and train, but now I’ll be busy again,"

Richard replied while washing the vegetables.

—

*(End of Chapter)*