Before dawn, Hai Ming came upstairs. He had slept, the alcohol had worn off, and he looked refreshed.
Nie Jun was still standing by the door. Hai Ming clapped him on the shoulder. “You must be tired. I’ll keep watch during the day. Go get some rest.”
“I’m fine,” Nie Jun said.
Hai Ming glanced through the crack of the door but couldn’t see inside. “How many people are in there?”
“One.”
Nie Jun didn’t get the chance to explain that he’d sent the other one away last night before Hai Ming clicked his tongue. “You sent him off that early?”
“A little after nine.”
Hai Ming’s expression was hard to read. “That early?”
Nie Jun worried he might be misunderstanding, so he clarified, “I didn’t know if that person was clean, so I had him leave.”
Hai Ming turned to look at him. Ten full seconds passed before he asked, “So the boss slept alone last night?”
“Yeah.” Nie Jun thought for a moment and then asked, “Why is everyone so eager to send people to his bed?”
“Because there’s a lot to gain,” Hai Ming lowered his voice after making sure no one was nearby. “Our boss is already a self-made rich man. Even if someone can’t become the official Mrs. Kong, being a lover is enough. Pillow talk is powerful. In the future, things would be so much easier.”
Nie Jun didn’t agree, but he nodded to show he understood.
“Go rest,” Hai Ming urged. “Today’s just a meeting with Mr. Ao. I won’t have to block drinks. Get some sleep so you’re ready for tonight’s shift.”
Even though Nie Jun had stood guard all night, the events had left him too keyed up to feel tired.
“What are they discussing?” he asked.
Hai Ming hesitated, remembering Kong Wenyu’s vague attitude toward him, and replied cautiously, “That night, someone beat up Miss Ao’s bodyguard.”
Nie Jun’s eyebrows twitched. “Have they figured out who did it?”
Hai Ming shook his head. “The surveillance footage was wiped clean. The Ao family suspects our boss, but I didn’t leave after dinner that night. You’re my witness.”
Nie Jun exhaled in relief.
About twenty minutes later, Kong Wenyu came out of his room fully dressed.
He went downstairs for breakfast. Yu Jiaduo and the others were already eating.
“Well, look who’s up,” Yu Jiaduo called out from a distance. “Feeling less seasick now?”
Kong Wenyu asked the waiter for a glass of warm water, sat across from him, rolled his shoulders, and spoke as if he still hadn’t fully woken up: “More or less.”
Yu Jiaduo laughed. “Didn’t get enough sleep?”
“Annoying,” Kong Wenyu said. “Where the hell are we? I can’t even get a phone signal.”
Yu Jiaduo replied, “We’ve been heading east the whole time. They want to circle around Moonlight Island. There’s no reception out here.”
Kong Wenyu glanced out the window but couldn’t see even a shadow of the island.
“There’s still some distance to go,” Yu Jiaduo explained. “Di Xun bought it a couple of years ago, planning to turn it into a resort island. But it’s too far—running a cruise ship back and forth daily isn’t practical, and there aren’t that many people with private yachts. The project couldn’t really take off.”
Kong Wenyu smiled slightly. “As long as he likes it. Spending money just to be happy—nothing wrong with that.”
“I like that attitude,” Di Xun said from a nearby table. He was sitting alone, accompanied by the same young man from last night. “Spending money just for the thrill of it—that’s the whole point.”
It was unclear when he’d finally slept the night before. Now a shadow of stubble darkened his jaw, faint bruises showed under his eyes, and his expression carried a sharp-edged irritability, though his gaze still glittered with energy.
“What’s your deal, Wenyu?” Di Xun didn’t mention Yuan Laisheng at all. Instead, he asked, “Why did you take the person Jiaduo sent to your room last night and then send him away? Wasn’t he good enough?”
“Too obedient,” Kong Wenyu said casually. “I like them innocent and inexperienced.”
“That kind of innocence is all fake. Boring.” Di Xun smirked. “If you want it to be good, you need someone experienced.”
Kong Wenyu didn’t argue. “That’s true.”
Seeing that he wasn’t going to take the bait, Di Xun paused for a few seconds, then changed the subject. “Come visit my island. This season’s perfect—lots of wild game. I released a few big animals there; I wonder how much they’ve grown.”
Despite feeling unwell, Kong Wenyu showed a flicker of interest. “Sure.”
Di Xun straightened, eyes lighting up, and immediately ordered someone to prepare the tools for an outdoor barbecue.
Kong Wenyu ate a little, but his appetite was poor. He stopped as soon as he felt somewhat full. Yu Jiaduo asked if he wanted to join him at the hot springs, but Di Xun interrupted, inviting him to an activity on the top deck instead.
Yu Jiaduo also mentioned that Ao Yongwang was downstairs—maybe he’d even run into Ao Qingqing.
—They all assumed Kong Wenyu had kept his room empty last night because Ao Qingqing was also on board.
Kong Wenyu agreed to the hot springs.
Walking with Yu Jiaduo and chatting idly, he reached the lowest deck, where Ao Yongwang was already soaking in one of the pools, a fruit platter set beside him.
It was still early. There weren’t many other people—just a few scattered in distant pools.
Kong Wenyu changed into swimming trunks, draped a large towel over his shoulders, and sat across from Ao Yongwang. Yu Jiaduo said he wanted to swim first, greeted them briefly, and left.
“Had breakfast yet?” Ao Yongwang asked, surprised to see him up so early. “I thought you’d sleep in.”
Kong Wenyu leaned against the uneven stone wall, head tilted back, eyes closed, resting.
Even without a reply, Ao Yongwang didn’t take offense—because last night, Kong Wenyu had kept his room empty.
He believed he knew Kong Wenyu too well: he was someone who did whatever he wanted, never acting under anyone’s pressure. So, last night must have been a gesture of respect toward the Ao family.
“There’s something I want to ask you,” Ao Yongwang said calmly.
Kong Wenyu waited a moment before slowly opening his eyes and meeting his gaze. “I also have something to ask you.”
Ao Yongwang looked surprised—both at the fact that Kong Wenyu wanted to ask him something, and because it disrupted his prepared approach.
“A few days ago, you said Ao Qingqing’s bodyguard was beaten,” Kong Wenyu said, half-lowering his lashes. “Did you find out who did it?”
Ao Yongwang paused, then smiled slightly and shook his head.
Kong Wenyu didn’t smile. His gaze turned colder. “I sent someone to check the surveillance footage, but I heard you took it.”
“It wasn’t important,” Ao Yongwang replied. “Wouldn’t have been good if it leaked, so I had it deleted.”
Kong Wenyu gave a soft “Ah,” and said, with layered meaning, “I thought you were coming after me because you suspected I was involved.”
Ao Yongwang didn’t have time to hide his reaction before Kong Wenyu continued, clearly intrigued: “Or is it that something happened that night that made you think I’d have a reason to teach that bodyguard a lesson?”
Ao Yongwang’s face stayed neutral, but his mind raced, trying to figure out how much Kong Wenyu actually knew.
Kong Wenyu remained leaning lazily against the hot spring’s stone edge, unmoving.
“Ao Yongwang.” He said the full name softly, almost casually, but with an edge. “If you don’t hand over the surveillance footage today, you’re not leaving.”
Out of the corner of his eye, bodyguards stationed around the area shifted slightly, ready to move. Ao Yongwang felt a chill creep into his limbs. “What do you mean by this?”
Kong Wenyu tilted his chin slightly toward Hai Ming, who stood not far away. Hai Ming immediately led men to block the exit—a clear answer.
“I came out with the Di family—for business, yes, but also to show appreciation for your role as a middleman.” Ao Yongwang drew a deep breath. “Are you really going to detain me privately?”
“Shh,” Kong Wenyu said softly. “Business is business.”
When Ao Yongwang shifted slightly in the water, Nie Jun, who had been hidden in the shadows, immediately stepped forward and positioned himself beside Kong Wenyu.
Ao Yongwang glanced at him, and the tension in his brow deepened.
Kong Wenyu said, “Either you hand over the hotel surveillance footage from that night, or—let’s not make this complicated—cancel the engagement.”
Ao Yongwang was taken aback but quickly regained his composure. “This marriage was arranged by Uncle Kong when he was still alive. You want to back out?”
Kong Wenyu neither confirmed nor denied it.
Ao Yongwang immediately realized he’d spoken too harshly. He studied Kong Wenyu’s expression, and when he spoke again, his tone was much gentler: “Our Ao family’s matters are our own to resolve. You don’t need to get involved.”
“Is that so?” Kong Wenyu countered, lifting his eyes slightly. “But the more I think about it, the more something feels… off.”
Nie Jun’s gaze darted briefly toward Kong Wenyu, then immediately lowered again.
Ao Yongwang’s profile was taut, hard as stone.
If they weren’t waist-deep in water, it would have been obvious that sweat was breaking out across his back.
Kong Wenyu said casually, “Tell me—what exactly feels off?”
Ao Yongwang studied him for a long moment, until Kong Wenyu’s patience ran out and his cold gaze cut straight over.
Ao Yongwang bit down hard. “Forget it, Kong Wenyu. You’re no saint yourself.”
Kong Wenyu let out a short laugh.
Ao Yongwang said, “Whether or not you’re the one who hit Xiaolang, the Ao family isn’t going to pursue it any further.”
Kong Wenyu lowered his head and chuckled softly, still giving no clear response.
Nie Jun remained standing nearby. As long as Kong Wenyu didn’t dismiss him, he wouldn’t leave.
Ao Yongwang glanced at him and leaned back into the hot spring.
They both stayed silent for several minutes before Ao Yongwang broke first: “Let’s give each other an out. It’ll look better for both sides. You and Qingqing are a political match. After you’re married, if you want to play the harmonious couple, great. If not, you each do your own thing. Don’t tell me you don’t have lovers outside?”
Kong Wenyu looked at him once and interrupted lightly, “Hand me the surveillance footage.”
“Stop pushing your luck!” Ao Yongwang snapped, unable to hold back. “Lino’s main theme this season is loyalty and fidelity. If the engagement gets canceled right now, the brand reputation will tank, and it’ll be hard to recover. Your second aunt has approached me multiple times about cooperation—I’ve turned her down each time. Madam Kong is still in a nursing home; she can’t handle a major emotional shock. The Ao Group’s subsidiary in H City is going public next month… If you break off the engagement, how will you explain it to all of them?”
“You can try me,” Kong Wenyu replied.
Ao Yongwang opened his mouth but had no words.
Their exchange had no raised voices or physical threats, so from the outside, it looked like casual conversation. No one else noticed the tension that felt ready to snap.
Ao Yongwang tried again to pacify him: “I have a proposal—”
“Save it.” Kong Wenyu cut him off. “‘Mr. Ao’s extravagant lifestyle: a night of high-stakes gambling ends with a tragic fall overboard.’ How’s that headline?”
Ao Yongwang froze. Part of him believed Kong Wenyu wouldn’t dare, but another part realized that if he really wanted to, he had the means to clean up afterward.
Ao had brought plenty of bodyguards on this trip, but since there’d been no specific warning, most were stationed outside, scattered. In contrast, Kong Wenyu’s head of security, Hai Ming, was poised just a short distance away, and Nie Jun—the man who’d already broken someone’s arm—was standing right here, close enough to act instantly.
Kong Wenyu tilted his chin slightly toward the phone by Ao Yongwang’s side. “Your phone.”
Ao Yongwang tensed, wary. He didn’t move, but Nie Jun immediately stepped forward, heading straight toward him.
Watching him approach, Ao Yongwang barked, “Don’t you dare!”
Nie Jun ignored him and reached for the phone.
Ao Yongwang snatched it up first, turning angrily to Kong Wenyu. “Kong Wenyu!”
Kong Wenyu’s expression remained calm, as if he’d already decided to go to war.
And he truly had the leverage to do it.
Because he had taken power at a young age, outsiders had circled like wolves, labeling him with words like reckless, impulsive, too inexperienced. They’d predicted Kong Corporation’s downfall.
Yet because of his status and the way he conducted himself, they were forced to fear him, forced to respect him—eventually changing their tone, calling him Mr. Kong.
They wanted a piece of his table. The ones who tried to stand and demand were left starving. The ones who knelt, who called sweetly enough, got fed—maybe.
Ao Yongwang stared at him for several seconds, then took a deep breath. “I’ll send you the footage. But you need to give me something in return.”
He tapped at his phone for a moment, then lifted his head, eyes sharp with an unspoken curse. “Sent.”
Hai Ming, holding Kong Wenyu’s phone, stepped forward as he powered it on and handed it over.
Kong Wenyu took the phone and lowered his gaze to the screen.
The video was clearly sped up, the clip only about three minutes long.
The camera angle wasn’t ideal—it only showed someone, likely Xiaolang, entering a restroom. Moments later, a figure wearing a black cap followed him inside. A few minutes later, that second person came out. The first—the one who’d gone in initially—never reappeared.
The video froze on the empty hallway.
Kong Wenyu finished watching, paused for several seconds, then raised his head. His dark, unreadable gaze locked on Nie Jun across from him.
He handed the phone back to Hai Ming.
Hai Ming took the phone, watched the clip again, then bent down and whispered something in Kong Wenyu’s ear.
Nie Jun, standing nearby, tightened his palm but kept his expression calm, eyes fixed on Kong Wenyu.
Ao Yongwang noticed their quiet exchange, and thinking again about how Kong Wenyu hadn’t kept anyone in his room last night, felt a complicated stir of emotions. Once Hai Ming stepped back into place, Ao asked, his tone softer, “Was it one of your men?”
Kong Wenyu had already guessed most of it. He gave a short, dry laugh. “What I want to see is what that bodyguard did. People don’t just get beaten for no reason.”
“There’s no other footage. This is all that was captured,” Ao Yongwang said.
Kong Wenyu neither confirmed nor denied, his calm gaze showing no trace of thought.
“The exact situation isn’t clear yet. I need to ask Qingqing, so we don’t make a wrong assumption,” Ao continued. “Our families’ businesses are deeply tied together. You and Qingqing have never had any serious conflict. The engagement was arranged by the elders. If you really want to dissolve it, shouldn’t you at least inform them first?”
Kong Wenyu said nothing, so Ao pressed on: “If it turns out she was in the wrong, I’ll make her apologize to you. Would that work?”
Still no answer.
Ao thought for a moment and added, “If this is truly a misunderstanding, I promise I’ll give you an explanation.”
Kong Wenyu was about to give a cold laugh when he suddenly felt eyes on him.
It was a familiar sensation. He glanced sideways and, sure enough, it was Nie Jun watching.
Meanwhile, Ao Yongwang kept glancing toward the doorway. When one of his bodyguards passed by, Ao tilted his head slightly. The man immediately caught the signal, called for reinforcements, and hurried to the edge of the hot spring.
Ao’s tension visibly eased.
“I’m done here. I’ll head up for breakfast,” he said, making an effort to sound conciliatory. “Wait for my reply.”
Kong Wenyu seemed to only just notice him. He let out a faint, mocking laugh and waved dismissively.
Ao rose from the water. His bodyguard wrapped him in a bath towel and led him toward the exit. As soon as they stepped outside, raised voices carried back—Ao scolding his men for being useless.
Kong Wenyu didn’t move. “Who else went out that night?”
Nie Jun stayed silent. Hai Ming stepped forward to answer: “Aside from me and Nie Jun, none of the bodyguards on duty went out.”
