Huo Zongzhuo hadn’t expected to witness such a scene and froze for a moment, his Adam’s apple bobbing unconsciously.
Jiang Luo seemed to sense it, turning slightly as he continued his phone conversation, glancing at Huo Zongzhuo with a raised brow, signaling: You’re back? I’m on the phone.
Then he shifted back to the call.
A little while later, still chatting, a white towel suddenly covered his head.
Huh?
Jiang Luo turned—Huo Zongzhuo had silently approached, taking the towel to dry his hair. When finished, he draped it over Jiang Luo’s shoulders.
Jiang Luo smiled mid-call, casting a playful glance at Huo Zongzhuo.
Huo Zongzhuo’s expression remained impassive, yet his subtle gaze betrayed him—he lowered his eyes, catching a glimpse of Jiang Luo’s slim, fair torso, the narrow waist, two lines tracing the sides into the towel.
A natural homosexual, Huo Zongzhuo could not remain indifferent. He maintained a calm exterior, but inside, his emotions raged.
Jiang Luo, meanwhile, continued talking on the phone, casually draping an arm over Huo Zongzhuo, holding the device while gesturing freely. The fresh scent of water and the fragrance of Lux soap wafted over him.
The scent triggered Huo Zongzhuo again, and later, even when he showered in his own en-suite, the same smell conjured images of Jiang Luo: the half-naked torso, the taut narrow waist, droplets tracing the spine…
Huo Zongzhuo couldn’t control it, lingering longer in the shower than necessary.
When he emerged, his expression was both satisfied and restless.
At the Wukang Road villa, third floor, Jiang Luo stood before the mirror, chin slightly raised, eyes fixed on his reflection as he adjusted his tie.
He had chosen a striking blue-violet one today—sharp, stylish, exactly how he liked to dress.
Hurrying downstairs, he got into the back seat of his car and instructed Wang Junqing: “Let’s go.”
He was attending a business association banquet.
The Haicheng Chamber of Commerce had sent him an invitation a week in advance. Jiang Luo wasn’t keen on attending—banquets meant endless socializing, often meaningless. But the Chamber represented a large portion of Haicheng’s business elite; he could neither afford to offend nor did he wish to.
Fine, he’d go.
Huo Zongzhuo had initially wanted to accompany him, offering support and introductions. Jiang Luo refused.
He considered Huo Zongzhuo a friend. At such events, people gathered for profit, which didn’t concern them—he didn’t want to trouble Huo Zongzhuo with formalities or networking on his behalf.
Attending was purely to show face—he had no intention of staying long.
Arriving at the hotel, Jiang Luo told Wang Junqing, “Take a walk nearby; I shouldn’t be too long.”
“Alright.”
He stepped out, took the elevator, and reached the banquet hall. Presenting his invitation at the entrance, he entered to find a spacious, well-lit room with carpeted floors, Roman columns, crystal chandeliers, and exaggerated ceiling heights—opulence everywhere.
Some attendees had arrived: mostly men, a few women, gathering by the buffet or in small groups, chatting politely. The air exuded the refined, high-class energy Jiang Luo was familiar with.
No one recognized him, and he recognized no one.
A few glanced his way, noting his striking looks. For someone so young attending a Chamber banquet, they assumed he was some young master. Seeing him walk casually to the buffet, no one approached, no favors sought, their assumption was challenged.
He had planned it: grab a bite, make a couple of rounds, sip champagne, and leave.
Networking? Unnecessary.
Schmoozing? Unneeded.
He knew the Chamber’s invitation wasn’t a compliment like Li Fengrui’s; it was a minor concession, a symbolic gesture—essentially, tossing a bone for him to nibble.
The Chamber expected him to hustle, ingratiate, and currying favor like everyone else—licking the boots of influential figures if bold enough.
All part of the social arena’s customary games.
Jiang Luo internally labeled it “obedience tests for dogs.”
He didn’t intend to be tamed, nor to scheme with anyone; he’d eat, play, and leave. Pretend he was just a carefree idler—because, in a way, he was.
He chose some dishes, grabbed a drink, and sat at a free table to eat.
Gradually, the room filled. Few ate; most clustered in small groups, chatting, clinking champagne glasses, engaging in necessary social rituals.
Those who knew each other discussed business, news, and policies. Strangers exchanged polite words, handshakes, exploring potential cooperation.
In his past life, Jiang Luo had been among these people, barely reaching the Chamber threshold, hustling for connections and influence.
Now, he observed a fat man in an ill-fitting suit, slicked-back hair, moving around with business cards, smiling for effect—like his former self.
Jiang Luo didn’t scorn him; everyone was simply doing their best.
“Do you think he’s stupid?” someone beside him scoffed.
“Does he really think getting in here means he’ll meet influential people, collaborate, or get investment for some junk project?”
Jiang Luo glanced up. A young man across from him, confident and haughty, looked his way.
The man, eyes sharp, asked, “I just arrived in Haicheng, don’t know anyone. You? Sitting here alone?”
“You weren’t sent here by your father, were you?”
Jiang Luo immediately sensed he came from a wealthy family—the look, the arrogance.
He smirked: “No one sent me. I just wanted to eat.”
The man, fork in hand, intrigued: “How old are you? About my age?”
“I’m Zheng Bin,” the man introduced himself. “Zheng like Zheng Chenggong, Bin like literary and martial excellence. And you?”
“Jiang Luo.”
Zheng Bin asked: “Why aren’t you mingling, drinking with them?”
Jiang Luo countered: “Why aren’t you?”
Zheng Bin answered bluntly: “Some people I don’t respect, some don’t respect me. My father insisted I come; otherwise, I wouldn’t bother. I don’t need anyone to do favors for me.”
Perhaps due to similar age and temperament, they understood each other: young, here because of family influence.
Zheng Bin continued: “What’s your family in?”
Jiang Luo casually: “Clothing factory.”
“Ah, making clothes.”
“My family mines coal in Shanxi,” Zheng Bin said. Coal magnate’s son.
He grabbed a plate, coming over: “Want to play pool? There’s a table over there.”
“Bored. Sure, why not.”
Jiang Luo finished eating, wiped his mouth, and followed.
The fat man still moved through the crowd, smiling, handing out cards.
Everything else in the hall continued orderly.
Then Huo Zongzhuo arrived. His appearance at the door caused quite a stir. The Chamber’s vice president was present too, sitting with a small circle on the sofa, their space respected; no one dared intrude.