Chapter 86: A Test of Intentions

Mo Zhicheng paused, then said with a faint edge of pique, "So you know his habits very well, do you?" His tone carried a trace of bitterness. "And Brady is not cheap, either. Not bad for yourself, I suppose."

He smiled and ordered himself a bottle of whisky, yet the riot of colors around him was still no match for Night City. For a man who could become a titan of the entertainment industry, he must possess extraordinary vision.

The private room was dimly lit. Spotlights around the ceiling cast variegated shadows and shifting colors, heavy and hushed, with an air of dizziness and indulgence. It looked even more like a scene from some sordid film, blurred and suggestive, stirring endless reverie. Ye Linglan sat stiffly on one side of the sofa, as if on pins and needles, while pretending to look calmly at the giant screen.

A song called "Angel" played, the woman's husky voice veiled in a mysterious mist, as though wrapped in angel wings, drawing one unconsciously into the song's faint sorrow.

Mo Zhicheng sat beside her, gazing at her gradually quieted profile. She rested her chin in her hand and listened. The strange, colorful glow fell softly beside her, accentuating her uncommon freshness and beauty, like a piece of flawless jade that could still shine on its own even when hidden in a place of debauchery.

Ye Linglan glanced at him. "Mr. Mo, I need to use the restroom."

He nodded slightly, idly toying with the zipper in his hand, watching her retreating figure.

The moment Ye Linglan pushed open the door and stepped inside, she was engulfed by a dark shape. In the next instant, she was pinned hard against the wall, a palm clamped over her mouth.

"It's me!" The man kept his voice low and restrained. Only then did Ye Linglan realize it was Young Master Ye.

"Ye..."

"Shh."

Ye Shenghan gave her a look. Under the dim light, he trapped her tightly between himself and the wall.

She was his angel. In her embrace, he had found the warmest solace, yet he had not expected their reunion to come like this. In those lacquer-black eyes, desolation flickered; they simply looked at each other in silence, as though wordless presence outweighed speech.

His wild, untamed features softened little by little. Looking at her narrow face and the faint prominence of her cheekbones, he reached out and touched them. No thousand words could compare to a single apology. He drew a deep breath; a bitterness spread through his chest so thickly that he could not put it into words. He wanted to kiss her, but instead he cupped her face in both hands, rested his forehead against hers, and slowly closed his eyes, holding her as if she were cradled in his palms.

Worried, Ye Linglan gently pushed him away and took out her phone to type: Mo Zhicheng is outside. This private room is on the first floor. Escape through the window.

Ye Shenghan read it, his hand tightening at once. Every muscle in him tensed; a throbbing pain pulsed along the veins at his temples. Taking the phone from her, he typed: I guessed it might be him, otherwise you wouldn't have brought people here without saying a word.

She wrote back: Leave quickly. Don't let him recognize you!

When Ye Linglan came out of the restroom again, a faint flush colored her cheeks. She saw Mo Zhicheng seated on the sofa, merging into the surrounding gloom. The man lazily smoked a cigarette, smoke coiling around him.

He smiled lightly and flicked the cigarette out. Through the last thread of smoke at his lips, he said, "No."

She lowered her head, stirring the liquor in her glass. "Mr. Mo, actually my senior and I are not what you think. We just get along well because we have the same interests."

Mo Zhicheng looked at her, then reached out and took her wrist, drawing her to his side. His strong arm wrapped around her shoulders and back. "For some reason, I don't feel very well."

"Where do you feel unwell?" she asked in surprise, glad of the chance to leave the riot of color and light. Unexpectedly, he placed her hand against his chest and murmured, "Here."

Ye Linglan's cheeks instantly turned pink. Her palm felt his powerful heartbeat, strong and steady. She tried to pull her hand back, but he held it firmly. "So I really want to know what that person is like."

With a crash, a sound faintly came from the direction of the restroom. Mo Zhicheng's eyes flicked toward the source, and the woman in his arms flinched. She tried to push him away.

"What was that?" he asked casually.

Fortunately, the soft music in the room covered it.

"Nothing," Ye Linglan replied. "It's noisy in here."

Mo Zhicheng stood. "I'll take a look."

"Mr. Mo—" Linglan hurriedly took his hand. Mo Zhicheng paused. This was the first time she had主动 held his hand. She said, "I'll sing for you, okay?"

He looked at her. There was a trace of docility in her eyes. As he raised his gaze, he glanced toward the concealed door of the restroom. After a long silence, he said, "All right."

Ye Linglan chose a song. Linglan lowered her eyes in gloom, took the microphone, and handed it to Mo Zhicheng. "Do you want to sing with me?"

Mo Zhicheng looked at the screen. "I'm not sure how well I'd sing."

Linglan smiled and did not insist.

The song was "Return to Me." "This time, I've truly decided to leave, to move away from those sorrows I have long failed to understand. I want you to forget your troubles, to forget your pain."

Tears glimmered in her eyes. In her heart, she could not help thinking: Young Master Ye, this song is for you. I only hope you can escape quickly. Do you remember? It was our favorite duet. I still remember your voice. I always thought that the harmony of harp and zither was the most beautiful of all. Every time we sang together, our perfect accord made me feel, deep in my heart, that you and I were inching closer and closer.

Ye Linglan's voice trembled, and she forced back the moisture in her eyes.

"That was the time you left so carelessly, and it became the sorrow that has never changed for me."

Young Master Ye, did you hear it? It was as though the past lay right before my eyes. Every time I turned to look at you in secret, the screen's blue light fell across your face. In that dim, ambiguous glow, I could faintly see your anguish. I wanted to smooth away the wounds you had once suffered, but my hands could never quite reach you. Yet no matter the past or the future, that period of time is a memory I can never erase.

"Gather the fading afterglow and let you pluck it at will. Keep the fleeting instant forever open for you."

Ye Linglan believed Ye Shenghan had already escaped, and did not know that he was watching through the crack of the door. Beneath the neon lights, he watched that lonely figure, listened to the choking strain in her voice, and saw Mo Zhicheng walk over. From behind, he opened his arms and gently drew Linglan into his embrace. He buried himself against her neck, and she did not even know what he whispered in her ear. The posture of their embrace was so naturally perfect, like a work of art made to fit from birth, enviable to anyone who saw it.

Ye Shenghan covered his mouth, his broad palm trembling violently. It felt as though a hollow had been smashed through his chest, and he could not stop the tearing pain; everything spun into darkness. He truly wanted to rush out then and there, but Mo Zhicheng turned Linglan slightly toward him, cupped her cheeks, and yet he saw Linglan casting a faint glance in his direction, that subtle expression full of concern for him.

Mo Zhicheng gazed at the woman in his hands. "I can hear you crying in your singing. Every time you're like this, I can't do anything about you."

Linglan withdrew her gaze and looked up at him, steering away from the subject. "I've kept you waiting for so long. It's noisy in here. I'll go to the restroom and call my senior."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Mo Zhicheng froze. Then he said, "All right."

Watching her retreating back, Mo Zhicheng gave the slightly ajar door a thoughtful glance.

He sat down by himself, poured half a glass of Brady, and drained it in one gulp. Yet the cold liquid came with a sharp sting, scorching painfully down his throat.

Ye Linglan came out quickly. There was still a trace of apology on her face. Mo Zhicheng looked at her and asked first, "What is it? Can't make it?"

He swirled the ice in his glass, now beginning to melt.

Linglan nodded carefully, somewhat uneasy. "Mm. Something came up at the last minute. I missed a few calls at the start and didn't get them. I'm sorry, Mr. Mo, for making you wait so long."

That pair of drunken eyes looked at her meaningfully. Seeing that she sat far away from him, he leaned in, seized her, and at once forced her down onto the sofa, pressing close to her. "Then make it up to me."

"What?"

Before she could make out what he meant, the man had already tilted back his head and downed the Brady in his glass. Then he lowered his head and kissed her. Forced to part her lips, she felt the mellow liquor spill into her mouth. A hint of coolness, a hint of heat, as though ice and fire met at once. His wet tongue took the chance to slip in, turning and tasting her sweetness. Unconsciously, the woman let out a soft murmur.

Yet it only sounded more like seduction. He pinned her face in his hand and kissed her fiercely. On the surface, this man was refined and gentlemanly, but in moments like this he was a different person entirely, as fierce as a beast long caged. He kissed her lips, then bit down. She winced in pain, slowly opened her eyes to look at him, and saw desire veiled within the drunken haze.

Mo Zhicheng lifted her hand and forced her to loop her arms around his neck, then pressed down over her and sealed her mouth again.

Their lips and tongues tangled, their breaths scattered and hot. His fingers slid deliriously into her dark hair, steadying the back of her head as he deepened the kiss again and again, as though he could never have enough.

After a long kiss, Mo Zhicheng looked down at the woman limp in his arms. She was panting, her eyes half-lidded, her cheeks flushed. Mo Zhicheng let her go at the right moment and merely turned his body aside.

The woman pressed a hand to her forehead and shook her head. Before Linglan, the world had turned to a shimmering blur, and all the neon lights overlapped into layer upon layer of phantom shadows.

"Linglan—"

Something was wrong with her. Seeing this, Mo Zhicheng hurried forward to steady her. "Linglan—Linglan—"

Mo Zhicheng, alarmed, picked her up, only then realizing that he too had begun to feel dizzy.

Damn it. He immediately understood that the drink had been drugged.

He carried her out in haste and at once contacted Tang Pei, since he could not drive in his condition. Just as Mo Zhicheng placed Linglan into the passenger seat, a hard blade pressed against his waist.

"Don't move!"