Two days later, the party Fu Xi had mentioned was held at the Yun Jian Hotel.
It was a purely social event with plenty of entertainment. No matter how niche your interests were, you’d find something to enjoy.
Kong Wenyu had agreed to attend, so he arrived early that day with a gift in hand. Fu Xi had asked him for some Hai Ming wine previously, so as soon as they got to the venue, Hai Ming went off to look for someone. That left Kong Wenyu sitting alone, bored, scrolling through his phone.
This was the third day since Nie Jun left. No calls, no messages. Even the one he’d sent that morning—asking what time work would start—had gone unanswered.
Kong Wenyu stared at the chat thread for a while, then locked his phone.
Fu Xi came over, leaning on the table in front of him and greeted him with a casual, half-English “Hey.”
“I did my homework. That bodyguard who beat Bit? His name’s Nie Jun. Did he come with you today?”
He looked around the room but didn’t spot any unfamiliar faces. Turning back to Kong Wenyu, he asked, “Where’d you stash him? Come on, bring him out, I wanna see for myself.”
Kong Wenyu barely lifted his eyes. “He took the day off.”
Fu Xi laughed. “You knew there was an event today and still let your superstar bodyguard take the day off? No way you’re getting the spotlight now.” Then he glanced into the distance and leaned in, lowering his voice. “But I’ve got a surprise for you. A big one.”
Kong Wenyu followed his gaze toward the entrance, where a few reporters were standing with cameras. But unlike the others, they weren’t taking pictures—they kept glancing this way.
“After tonight,” Fu Xi said, smiling on the surface but with a weight in his voice, “everyone will know you’re about to get engaged to Longzhu. The Ao family won’t take this lying down. You’d better be ready.”
Kong Wenyu didn’t seem interested. “Do whatever you want.”
Fu Xi had originally planned for a game of hot potato—mostly just to get the well-dressed crowd drunk. But people lost interest quickly, so the plan shifted to a tournament. They roped off the center of the venue and set up a massive LCD screen to show the bets.
“Captain Hai,” Fu Xi beckoned him over and slung an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll send Bit in first. You go second-to-last—make sure you beat him. Then I’ll have Miss Long’s bodyguard go after you. Make it look like you lose. Obviously.”
Hai Ming glanced at Kong Wenyu, and only when he nodded did he respond, “Okay.”
“Now that’ll be fun.” Fu Xi straightened up, grinning. “I already have tomorrow’s headlines in mind. They’re gonna be great.”
Kong Wenyu suddenly asked, “Where’s my secretary?”
Fu Xi paused, looked around the crowded hall, and said, “Probably just got lost in the crowd. I’ll have someone go find him.”
He left quickly. Hai Ming stayed a moment longer until Kong Wenyu muttered while fidgeting with the edge of his phone, “You can go, too.”
Hai Ming gave a nod and left.
People were streaming in now, and the tables around him gradually filled. The mood grew more festive. An orchestra started playing—another one of Fu Xi’s arrangements.
Kong Wenyu picked up his phone again and called Nie Jun.
The call rang until it eventually cut off on its own.
Someone sat down at the next table, starting a quiet conversation, but Kong Wenyu didn’t pay attention. His expression cold, he stood and walked toward the restroom.
The place was packed, and the restroom was no exception. He passed by without going in and instead turned into the adjacent smoking lounge.
It was still early, so the lounge was mostly empty. He walked over to the window for some fresh air, then took out his phone again to call Nie Jun.
Unsurprisingly, there was still no answer.
Staring at the darkened screen that had shut off from inactivity, Kong Wenyu resisted the urge to throw it against the wall. He popped a cigarette from the dispenser on the wall and was just about to light it when the lounge door opened.
Secretary Ling walked in.
“You were looking for me?” he asked as he approached.
Kong Wenyu took a slow drag from the cigarette and exhaled, smoke curling in front of his face. “Did Nie Jun ask you for the study’s passcode?”
Ling showed a trace of surprise. “No.”
Kong Wenyu didn’t respond. He looked into the distance, and only when the smoke was starting to dissipate did he speak again.
“Call him. If he picks up, hand me the phone.”
Secretary Ling hesitated for a moment, then quickly pulled out his phone and dialed. While waiting for the call to connect, he asked, “Is something urgent going on?”
Kong Wenyu didn’t answer. The monotonous dial tone coming from Ling’s phone only made his mood worse.
“Keep calling,” he said, grinding his cigarette out in the ashtray with more force than necessary.
Once the ember was fully snuffed, Kong Wenyu let go and walked out without a backward glance.
Back in the banquet hall, the event had already started. On the overhead screen, the current match was being displayed. Kong Wenyu paused by the doorway to watch for a moment and quickly concluded that the guy fighting Bit wouldn’t last a full minute.
Sure enough, within seconds, Bit found his opening and caught the guy in a chokehold.
Kong Wenyu clicked his tongue in mild annoyance.
At some point, someone had come up behind him. A familiar voice spoke: “Where’s that bodyguard of yours—the one who can actually fight?”
He glanced sideways. It was Ao Qingqing. His expression remained cool, and he didn’t respond.
Ao Qingqing stepped forward and caught a glimpse of his face. “…What’s wrong? Someone piss you off?”
Kong Wenyu stayed silent. Right in front of her, he placed a two-million-yuan bet at the wagering station.
It wasn’t a particularly large amount, so it didn’t stir much attention. Ao Qingqing, on the other hand, seemed eager. “Go higher. With your toughest guy not here, Bit’s a sure win tonight.”
“Then congrats in advance,” Kong Wenyu replied, his tone flat and distant.
Ao Qingqing grinned, her eyes gleaming with anticipation, and walked with him toward the buffet. Even her footsteps sounded smug.
When they reached his seat, someone was already sitting there. It wasn’t until he got closer that he saw who it was—Longzhu.
“Wenyu, I was looking for you. They said you went to the restroom.” She stood up as she spoke, her features delicate and flawless, her skin so fair it almost seemed to glow.
She glanced at Ao Qingqing behind him, then smiled gently. “Qingqing-jie, you’re here too? Why don’t you sit with us?”
It was the kind of tone only someone playing hostess would use. Ao Qingqing clenched her jaw slightly before forcing a polite smile. “Sure.”
Longzhu gave up Kong Wenyu’s seat and moved one over. That meant if Ao Qingqing wanted to sit down, she had no choice but to sit on the edge, right next to Longzhu.
As Kong Wenyu was about to take his seat, Ao Qingqing tugged lightly on his sleeve. “I have something I want to discuss. Why don’t we talk over there?”
He was already in a foul mood.
Longzhu also tried to say something, but as she raised her hand, it brushed against the back of the chair and she let out a soft “Ouch.”
“What happened?” Kong Wenyu asked politely.
“My ring got knocked off.” Longzhu looked down, searching for it.
“You’re wearing a dress—it’s not convenient. Let someone else look for it.” Kong Wenyu raised his hand to call for help. Hai Ming immediately stepped forward, but Fu Xi held him back and walked over himself.
“What’s going on?” he asked as he approached, his eyes landing first on Longzhu, then shifting to Ao Qingqing, and finally settling on Kong Wenyu.
Caught in the middle, Kong Wenyu didn’t show a trace of discomfort or awkwardness. He simply said, “Miss Long dropped her ring. I asked someone to help find it.”
“Oh come on, it’s just a ring. You all sit tight.” Fu Xi waved his hand and shouted, “Where is everyone?”
A few people hurried over, all addressing him as “Young Master.”
“Miss Long lost her ring. Everyone, start looking—if you can’t find it, check the security footage,” Fu Xi ordered. Then he turned to Kong Wenyu, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Come with me for a second.”
Kong Wenyu followed him calmly. Once they got near the betting station, Fu Xi looked around and finally relaxed.
“Why’d you put those two women together?” Fu Xi asked, eyes gleaming with excitement. He jerked his chin in another direction. “Good thing your brother’s keeping Ao Yongwang busy over there. Otherwise, this whole thing would’ve blown up.”
Kong Wenyu followed his gaze and saw Yu Jiatiao sitting at a table with Ao Yongwang, having a drink.
“This is a welcome party. Don’t make it turn into a brawl,” Fu Xi warned, giving Kong Wenyu a playful bump with his shoulder. “So? How’s it feel being fought over like that?”
Kong Wenyu’s mind was still back in the smoking lounge. He replied absentmindedly, “I’m thinking of leaving. This whole thing’s boring.”
Fu Xi, worried he might actually leave, quickly blocked his path. “It’s about to get good. Hai Ming’s going up next.”
“You handle it,” Kong Wenyu said, glancing toward the doors—still no sign of his secretary.
The truth was, Hai Ming could fight—really fight. He just rarely needed to. Things didn’t often escalate, and he had a team of men under him to handle most situations. Even tonight, the only reason he was stepping in was because Nie Jun wasn’t around and because Kong Wenyu had quietly given the nod. That said, his skill was never in doubt.
Bit stepped off his opponent—who lay twisted on the mat—and raised a fist in victory. Then he gave a little wave to Ao Qingqing across the room.
Just then, Hai Ming climbed into the ring. He met Bit’s sharp, hostile gaze and said casually, “Been wanting to spar with you for a while. Never had the chance.”
Bit rubbed the arm that had been broken in their last encounter. He grinned darkly. “Where’s he? Didn’t dare show up?”
Hai Ming replied with obvious sarcasm, “He figured you might lose the other arm. Better to sit this one out.”
Bit’s face twisted. He grit his teeth, chest heaving with anger. “You’ve got a death wish…”
As he lunged forward with a punch, Hai Ming dodged to the side—but as Bit turned back around, Hai Ming took the hit head-on.
The punch shot pain from his shoulder straight down to the bone. He cursed under his breath and launched himself forward to fight back.
This match was clearly meant to be the highlight of the night—not just because of the fighters’ skill, but because of the murky tension between the Kong and Ao families.
As the fight heated up, gasps and low murmurs rippled through the crowd. More and more eyes, openly or discreetly, turned toward Kong Wenyu. He ignored them all, his face unreadable—like frost layered over stone.
Secretary Ling rushed in from outside, a phone clutched in his hand.
He walked quickly up to Kong Wenyu and handed it to him, murmuring, “It went through.”
Kong Wenyu stared down at the phone in his palm, unmoving for several seconds.
Ling had to prompt him again, quietly but urgently, “Nie Jun answered.”
When Kong Wenyu finally reached out and took the phone, his face darkened further.
A low, steady voice came from the other end of the line.
“Hello?”
Kong Wenyu’s eyes flicked toward the ring, where the fight was at its peak. His lips pressed into a cold, grim line.
On the other end of the line, the voice hesitated, unsure if the phone had made it to Kong Wenyu’s hands. Then came a tentative call:
“Kong Wenyu? It’s Nie Jun.”
Kong Wenyu still didn’t answer, his eyes dark and unreadable.
People had begun to notice his foul mood. Their curious glances darted around, searching for a reason behind the shift in atmosphere.
“Are you listening?” Nie Jun asked, clearly uneasy. “Secretary Ling said you were looking for me. What’s going on?”
Kong Wenyu lowered the phone for a second. The screen lit up automatically, displaying: Call in progress with ‘Jun-ge’ — 00:52.
Nie Jun spoke again, his voice faster now, cautious and probing:
“I’m on my way to the airport. I won’t be home until after midnight. What did you want to talk about?”
Kong Wenyu exhaled. The soft sound didn’t go unnoticed—Nie Jun picked up on it instantly, holding his breath in response.
“I—”
He barely got the word out before Kong Wenyu cut in, cold as ice.
“I want to know…” Kong Wenyu began walking out of the hall. The crowd was dense, and it took him several seconds to make any progress. On the other end, Nie Jun couldn’t hold back anymore.
“…Know what?”
The elevator took him down to the parking garage. A valet stepped forward to take his keys and went to retrieve his car.
Static fuzz crackled faintly over the line due to weak reception. Nie Jun asked again, more firmly this time:
“What did you say?”
Standing by the door, waiting for his car, Kong Wenyu finally spoke, voice low and heavy as the night around him:
“A man, at night, other than meetings or sleep—what kind of situation makes him ignore his phone for more than an hour?”
“Nie Jun,” he called him by name, something he almost never did—especially not like this, with a tone so unreadable and detached. “You’ve got thirty seconds. Give me a reasonable explanation.”
Nie Jun’s voice tightened as he rushed to answer,
“My phone was on silent. I didn’t see your calls.”
Kong Wenyu looked out into the darkness as the valet pulled up in front of him and stepped aside, holding the door open with a respectful nod.
Expression grim, Kong Wenyu got into the car.
Inside, the silence wrapped around him like a vacuum, isolating him from the chaotic world outside. The hush was so absolute it almost made his ears ring.
He clipped in his Bluetooth earpiece, face still cold, and pulled the car smoothly out of the garage.
“I had something to take care of,” Nie Jun said, clearly growing more cautious. “I asked for leave, and you said it was okay. That’s the only reason I came.”
“I said okay, but I didn’t say you could go completely off the grid for days. No calls, no replies. Who gave you that kind of privilege?”
Nie Jun was at a loss. “I’m sorry. I’ll head back immediately.”
Kong Wenyu paused for a few seconds before responding coldly,
“You done with whatever you were handling?”
“Yes,” Nie Jun answered.
Silence fell again.
After a beat, Nie Jun offered a quiet explanation,
“I took on a job. I needed somewhere quiet… so I put my phone on silent.”
“What kind of job?”
“It was just protecting someone—”
“You’re protecting someone else?” Kong Wenyu’s voice dropped a few degrees colder. “Whose bodyguard are you, exactly?”
Nie Jun started, “It’s not—”
But Kong Wenyu didn’t let him finish.
“You’re my personal bodyguard. If you can’t do that, then get lost.”
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