Chapter 15 Her Cheeks Flushed with a Rosy Hue
When Ye Linglan hurried to Night City, Xiaowen had already packed her things and was ready to leave. At that moment, conflicting emotions churned within Linglan. Reason and sentiment waged a silent tug-of-war. She still thought Xiaowen was at an age as beautiful as a blossoming flower, unfit—too young—to be dragged into these murky waters. She would have preferred to preserve that last shred of innocence. Mo Zhicheng’s punishment of Xiaowen was nothing more than making an example of her. Night City, a casino renowned throughout Southeast Asia, needed to maintain an appearance of perfect calm on the surface so that outsiders would suspect nothing. Yet beneath that tranquility, too many stories were buried in secrecy, unknown to the world—like the one last night.
After seeing Xiaowen off, Linglan was left with an indescribable feeling. She was removed from her position as a croupier and reassigned to another section of Night City, the leisure and entertainment center. Linglan had to smile—Mo Zhicheng truly was a man who never let down his guard. Precisely because of this, she knew she had to tread even more carefully.
If the casino was Night City’s greatest money pit, the leisure and entertainment center was its most refined system of service. There was no denying that Mo Zhicheng excelled at the follow-up aspects of the gaming industry. That was why, on that night, he could speak with such confidence, leaning close to her ear, his voice laced with laughter: Some become rich overnight, others lose everything, but no matter what, the final winner is always the casino—always him.
When she first arrived, the manager of the entertainment center seemed almost unreasonably strict with her. It took Linglan two whole days to familiarize herself with the layout of the area. Beyond the casino lay a green stretch—a golf course, with an artificial lake at its center. The rest area always kept one room reserved, reputedly for Mo Zhicheng’s personal use. He only visited occasionally in his spare time, but to keep it pristine, the room was cleaned regularly.
That morning, Linglan received word that Mo Zhicheng would arrive at three in the afternoon. Rumor had it he was coming to discuss a new partnership. She went to the front desk to fetch the key and set about tidying his resting suite in advance. Pulling back the curtains, she revealed an entire wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Golden morning light streamed in at an angle, draping over her like a floating gown. Linglan narrowed her eyes, taking in the entire golf course at a glance. Against the azure sky, clouds of all shapes drifted by, the mingling of blue and green painting the most beautiful scene in the world. Linglan sighed deeply—in that moment, she truly felt she’d stolen a rare half-day of leisure from life.
—The medicine and cotton swabs are in your bedside drawer.
The thought made Linglan smile. She leaned against the window, fogging the glass with her breath and tracing the shape of a wind chime with her finger, gently writing “indbell.” She gazed at it for a moment, then quickly wiped away the English letters. As she came back to herself, the clear glass reflected a man’s cold, sharp features. Startled, she spun around. The cry that rose in her throat caught and died there, leaving her mute as she stared at him.
Mo Zhicheng leaned casually against the door, his posture languid. His gaze flickered to the glass where her drawing lingered faintly. Linglan stood frozen—she’d clearly heard he wouldn’t arrive until three, so why had he come early?
With one hand, Mo Zhicheng turned on the heater; with the other, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and slipped it off. Linglan immediately stepped forward, “President Mo, allow me.” She explained, “I just got word you’d be here at three, so I wanted to tidy your suite this morning.”
She took the jacket from his hand, but as their fingers brushed, it was as if a jolt of electricity shot through her. Linglan quickly turned away toward the wardrobe, uneasy with even the slightest unintentional touch from another man. Yet every encounter with him seemed to carry a whiff of danger. Mo Zhicheng glanced sideways, catching a hint of crimson blooming across her cheeks, the flush spreading all the way to the delicate tips of her ears.