Chapter 8

Zhong Nian blanked out for a moment, and the man in front of him slightly lowered his head, looking at him with concern.

“Are you okay?”

Though his voice was unexpectedly low and magnetic, his tone was gentle, flowing into Zhong Nian’s ears like the sound of some classical Western instrument, carrying an elegant charm.

As he lowered his head, the cascade of platinum hair draped behind him fell loose, bringing with it a faint woody fragrance.

His face seemed like something out of ancient Greek mythology, sculpted as a work of art, with sharp, rugged features, pale skin, and a pair of gray-green eyes fixed on Zhong Nian.

“I… I’m fine.” At such close range, Zhong Nian uncomfortably took a step back.

“Then can you tell me now where Box 1 is?”

Zhong Nian raised his hand to indicate. “It’s right here.”

“It was right in front of me all along… I slept too much during the day; I got all muddled.”

Zhong Nian understood.

No wonder his hair was a bit messy, and his clothes were thrown on casually, like he had just tossed a black trench coat over his pajamas. Yet his unique aura and tall, upright figure made it look anything but odd—instead, it came off as casually natural, like a runway model.

Zhong Nian dutifully opened the door for him. Once the man had entered, he returned to his post, only then realizing who was inside Box 1.

Was he with Zong Xing Yi and Sheng Chu?

His status probably wasn’t simple either.

Zhong Nian sneaked over to the door and peered through the round window into the room.

He saw the man who had just entered sit down casually next to the two of them, propping his long legs on the low table. He raised his right hand, and the bodyguard who had been standing behind Zong Xing Yi promptly stepped forward with sharp eyes, placing a slender cigarette between his fingertips and lighting it.

He took puff after puff, exhaling perfect smoke rings, occasionally taking a sip of vodka for himself.

It was all very practiced, a far cry from the elegant refinement he had shown Zhong Nian earlier.

Zhong Nian: “…”

He continued clinging to the window and watching for a bit longer.

Meanwhile, the Zong Family Eldest Young Master—who appeared to be the rowdiest of the bunch—waved away the smoke in clear disgust, looking unaccustomed to it as he grumbled something displeased.

Zhong Nian didn’t catch what the long-haired man said in response, but Zong Xing Yi suddenly lifted his gaze toward the door, catching Zhong Nian in the act of peeking.

Zhong Nian’s heart skipped a beat in fright, and he quickly pulled his head back.

Not long after, the colleague inside who handled dedicated service came out and called him in.

A thousand times unwilling in his heart, Zhong Nian couldn’t refuse.

He steeled himself and entered, standing straight in front of the sofa with his eyes obediently lowered.

He could feel someone sizing him up.

The gaze was unabashed and boldly unrestrained, raking over him from head to toe.

“Hey, look up.”

The person in the middle of the sofa issued the command, and Zhong Nian inwardly rolled his eyes before plastering on his standard fake smile, facing Zong Xing Yi.

For some reason, the normally hot-tempered Eldest Young Master stared at him in a daze. The wine glass in his hand tilted, and the liquor poured out, soaking straight into his pants with a splash.

“Fuck fuck fuck!!” Zong Xing Yi snapped back to reality, jumping up from the sofa and grabbing napkins to wipe it off.

The embarrassing part was the spot where the wine had spilled—right in the crotch.

This Eldest Young Master probably felt humiliated too; his face flushed beet red like a monkey’s ass. His first reaction was to point at Zhong Nian, his voice trembling as he ordered, “You’re not allowed to look!”

Zhong Nian indifferently clasped his hands behind his back and lowered his head, silently adding a new label in his mind.

Yeah, this Zong Family Eldest Young Master is a bit dumb.

Zong Xing Yi went to change his pants, and the box fell silent for a moment.

The arena’s sound system switched to a new track, and then the host took the stage to announce that the match was about to begin.

The dancers performing in the Octagon Cage cleared out, replaced by muscular boxers.

The second-floor view was excellent; even without standing at the very edge, Zhong Nian could see everything below clearly.

He didn’t understand boxing and had no idea what the blood-pumping cheers from the crowd were about. He only thought the two beasts clashing brutally in the cage were savage and bloody.

“Really boring.”

A soft sigh came from beside his ear.

Zhong Nian looked up to see the long-haired man smiling over at him, even asking, “Right?”

Zhong Nian hesitated on whether to respond, nodding cautiously after a half-beat.

The long-haired man chuckled lowly, stubbed out his cigarette, and beckoned him over. “Come sit. Chat with me.”

He patted the spot next to him.

Zhong Nian hesitated for two seconds, glanced at Sheng Chu—who was leaning against the glass railing looking down, seemingly unconcerned—and then walked over to sit beside the long-haired man.

“What’s your name?”

“Zhong Nian,” he answered, subtly twitching his nose.

The long-haired man now carried the scent of cigarette smoke on top of everything else—not unpleasant, the kind with a mint tea aroma. Zhong Nian secretly inhaled a couple more times.

“Nice name.” The long-haired man extended a hand. “I’m Guan Shan Yue.”

The somewhat formal greeting and the surname “Guan” both caught Zhong Nian off guard. He blinked in surprise for a moment before shaking his hand.

Guan Shan Yue shook it a couple times, then let out a surprised “Huh,” naturally flipping Zhong Nian’s palm over and pointing at the lines there. “Your palm lines are really impressive.”

“Really?” Zhong Nian had never studied it and grew curious. “How so, specifically?”

“The standout one is your love line—it stretches from here to here, so clear too. That means you’ll have an unforgettable, lifelong romance in this lifetime, and plenty of admirers… Your career and wealth lines are solid… Hmm, just your life line is a bit unique.”

As he spoke, Guan Shan Yue leaned in close, his long hair tilting with his body so a few strands draped onto Zhong Nian’s arm.

He cradled Zhong Nian’s right hand in one of his while tracing the lines in his palm with his index finger, the touch somewhat ticklish.

Zhong Nian caught another whiff of that woody fragrance from the platinum strands, which made his nose itch too. He rubbed it with his other hand before asking earnestly, “How is it unique?”

He paid no mind at all to how they were now well past social distance.

Guan Shan Yue watched the young man purse his unusually plump lips in worry, pausing before saying, “It’s broken here a bit, meaning there might be some mishap midway, but it’s nothing major. The tail is long; your lifespan is still very extended.”

“Oh… That’s good then.” Zhong Nian let out a breath of relief.

He held a reverent attitude toward knowledge he hadn’t encountered before and believed it a little.

After finishing the palm reading, Guan Shan Yue pinched his fingers and exclaimed in surprise, “Wow, your fingers are so long—perfect for playing piano. Have you ever learned? If you’re interested, I can teach you hands-on. I’m a pretty good pianist, you know.”

“R-Really…” Zhong Nian had seen the cruise ship restaurant’s pianist play for guests while serving dishes—an elegant and wondrous art form.

He couldn’t help yearning for it.

He grew a bit excited, his face flushing pink as he eagerly awaited Guan Shan Yue’s response.

But before Guan Shan Yue could reply, someone else let out a short, low chuckle.

It huffed from the nasal cavity, meaning unclear.

At this timing, though, such a sudden laugh without reason easily came off as mocking something.

Zhong Nian pursed his lips and glanced up at Sheng Chu, who leaned against the glass railing.

Sure enough, the man was no longer watching the boxing match below but had turned to look at him, a hint of amusement still lingering in his eyes.

Zhong Nian held back due to his position, but Guan Shan Yue had no such qualms and directly asked, “Sheng Chu, what are you laughing at?”

Sheng Chu said, “Laughing at how clumsy your cheap tricks are.”

Caught red-handed, Guan Shan Yue flushed and started to defend himself when the box door was suddenly shoved open with great force.

To barge in so rudely—who could it be? Zhong Nian turned in surprise.

A familiar playboy stood pale-faced at the door, barely holding himself up against it. “Sheng—Sheng Ge, something… something happened…”

Sheng Chu frowned. “What is it?”

“Qian Shao… he… he died in the bathroom.”