Chapter 20 Part 2

Just as Shen Yu braced for his head to smash into the car frame—deciding to test whether his skull or Zhou Jinsheng’s car was tougher—the expected collision didn’t come.

Zhou Jinsheng’s palm reached out and steadily caught his sliding face. The authority ring on his finger pressed into Shen Yu’s cheek, its metallic frame cold and distinct.

Shen Yu lay in horrified repose on Zhou Jinsheng’s broad palm. After a silent moment, he asked 007: 【Won’t be discovered, right? Fainted naturally?】

007 nodded: 【Real.】

In the surrounding night, where silence flowed unclearly, everything lacked definition.

In the extremely close gap between the two, dim yellow light seeped in from cracks all around. In this hazy glow, Zhou Jinsheng’s figure nearly completely enveloped Shen Yu.

Shen Yu kept his eyes closed.

He sensed Zhou Jinsheng’s gaze lingering long on his face, filled with scrutiny and examination.

It was very quiet.

Quiet to the point of eeriness.

In this secretive silence, their breathing sounds amplified endlessly.

Just as Shen Yu grew worried, sudden clamor erupted outside the car. Countless flashes surged up, then rebounded into the car. Camera shutters clicked in endless chains, unrelenting.

Reporters?

What was going on?

Shen Yu wondered inwardly and pricked up his ears.

The partition between the driver’s seat and the back opened.

“What’s going on?”

It was Zhou Jinsheng’s voice.

Low, calm, oppressively so.

The assistant up front broke out in cold sweat at the question, stammering: “Sir, I don’t know who leaked your whereabouts. Reporters have swarmed outside, sealing it off tight. Do you want to call in a helicopter or—”

“Change cars.”

The assistant trembled in fear. Glancing at the peacefully fainted Shen Yu, he couldn’t help but feel admiration. He wiped his sweat and hurriedly replied: “Got it.”

At Fragrant Mountain Mansion, the unclouded night sky was pierced by the Milky Way. Stars glittered like the flowing lights of Shangjing reflected in the heavens, a mirrored world of glittering extravagance.

When Zhou Jinsheng carried the man out of the car, even with bodyguards blocking, he was instantly surrounded by reporters, watertight.

Shen Yu, feverish and muddled, instinctively turned his face toward Zhou Jinsheng to dodge some unknown light.

Zhou Jinsheng’s movements paused.

Top-tier reporters turned the flashing lights into blinding daylight as they all aimed at Zhou Jinsheng and the person he held in his arms.

Even though the young man in his arms was being princess-carried, he showed no trace of shrinking or weakness. His figure was tall and slender, draped in a black long trench coat, with his cheek pressed against the big shot’s chest. Only a glimpse of his elegant jawline was visible.

Zhou Jinsheng’s coat was soaked in a warm, alluring scent of cigar and cocoa. Cigars, unlike cigarettes, were meant more for savoring.

Once the tobacco burned, its aroma mingled with other notes—spicy pepper, bitter coffee, rich beans, sweet cream… a variety of flavors, all present.

This cold yet seductive cocoa scent was unexpectedly appealing.

Shen Yu’s face collided fully with Zhou Jinsheng’s firm chest muscles. The other man’s arms coiled around him like two giant pythons, both restraining and steadily supporting him.

The arm muscles tensed from the effort, and the pulsing veins transmitted through the shirt to Shen Yu’s body, matching the steady rhythm of the heartbeat against his ear.

Thump, thump, thump—

Thump, thump, thump—

One beat after another, powerful and bursting.

In the intervals between the heartbeats came intermittent noises—like human gasps or mechanical clicks—

Clicks?

Only then did Shen Yu belatedly realize that, though he didn’t know where these media people had come from, he had indeed been princess-carried in public.

“…”

He fell into a brief silence.

Shen Yu: 【I feel like some of my masculine image and good qualities have all shattered.】

Luxury cars and dazzling lights surrounded them now. Those who didn’t know might have thought it was some star-studded red carpet event.

In all of Shang Capital City, who didn’t know of Zhou Mansion?

This estate had deep roots across generations, rising and falling through time. Starting from his father’s father, from ancestors’ ancestors, power and wealth had accumulated steadily, with astonishing foundations, yet it remained low-key and mysterious.

Even trivial gossip about Zhou Corporation was a traffic goldmine for major news sections—

Let alone this: the frightening head of Zhou Corporation was holding a man.

Earth-shattering news!

In an instant, the major media swarmed like cats smelling blood. Countless microphones and lenses thrust forward, hurling questions one after another.

“…Mr. Zhou, there are reports that TNVK Company has been negligent privately. Do you plan to abandon the partnership?”

“Mr. Zhou, what are your thoughts on…”

…

The topics kept coming, but surprisingly, they all skimmed the surface—flashy but shallow, missing what everyone truly cared about right now. For example—

Who was the man in his arms?

They were all news hounds who had crossed paths before. Familiar colleagues exchanged heated glances, winking and urging each other on, but no one stepped up as the first to stick their neck out.

Of course not. Zhou Corporation kept a low profile, and this Mr. Zhou especially disliked others prying into his private affairs. The last one bold enough to ask had vanished completely afterward.

In their line of work, making money was never hard. The trick was spending it without consequence.

Even if someone got carried away at first by fantasies of instant fame from a huge scoop and desperately wanted to expose the man’s identity, the moment they faced the big shot’s aura head-on, all unrealistic notions evaporated.

In the end, no one dared to ask.

The night surged, neon lights flickered, and the night wind howled. A crowd of bodyguards followed behind Zhou Jinsheng. His narrow, cold eyes narrowed slightly as his gaze calmly swept over the reporters.

For some reason, the clamor suddenly fell silent.

Zhou Jinsheng withdrew his gaze and strode through the crowd to the car.

That moment of quiet felt like an illusion as the noise surged back. Flashes and the crowd pressed forward, scrambling to capture the clearest, most complete footage with their cameras—though most likely, as usual, Zhou Corporation would intercept these photos and videos, keeping them from the public.

Song Shi lowered his eyes and respectfully bent to open the car door.

The lenses faithfully recorded it all: the handsome man, chiseled like a statue, gently placed the person in his arms onto the seat before swinging his long legs in after him.

The bodyguards following behind then got into their cars.

The crowd hoisted their cameras and chased after, but the dozen identical black cars merged into the city’s steel jungle and vanished in the blink of an eye.

The lead chubby round-faced guy stopped, panting and clutching his waist.

“Oof, I was just about to ask, but they left so fast.”

A colleague nearby laughed. “Give it up, no bragging. If you had the guts, you’d have asked already. Still, we got some prime footage for once—big score.”

Someone shook their head with a sigh. “Whether we can publish it is another story.”

“Who cares? Let’s head back, draft the articles, and worry about publishing later. What headline would grab eyes?”

“Fuck off, you asshole.”

Amid the banter and laughter, the chubby guy keenly noticed a man standing nearby. Dressed in a suit, exuding elite vibes, no gear on him—he clearly wasn’t one of them.

But his posture: standing by the roadside, staring blankly after the departing cars, not moving a muscle. He was practically turning into a wife-gazing stone. Anyone would think Fragrant Mountain Mansion had placed a wax figure at the entrance.

News pros never missed a clue. The chubby guy sauntered over and patted He Qian’s shoulder. “Hey, bro, stop staring. The taillights are long gone.”

He Qian didn’t budge, not even turning his eyes.

The chubby guy frowned. This guy was acting weird. He patted harder. “Hey, bro, you okay?”

This time, there was a reaction. He Qian mechanically turned his head, his eyes rolling up and down, still dazed. “Oh, what did you say?”

The chubby guy frowned again. He Qian snapped to it, his expression still stiff. Under the streetlight, he looked like a living wax figure—eerie and ghostly, sending chills down the spine.

His voice drifted unnaturally. “Oh, I’m fine.” Then he turned and left, hands and feet moving awkwardly like they were swapped.

“…”

A cold wind blew, and the chubby guy felt a chill down his back, goosebumps rising. He cursed, stomped his foot, and hurried off when someone called him, rubbing his arms.

By the early hours of the morning, Shen Yu sank into a heart-melting softness and drifted off in a daze.

When he woke, it was the next morning. Window light and lamps brightened the room. The high fever had receded like the tide, but he felt weak and exhausted.

An IV dripped into the back of his hand. Shen Yu propped himself up against the headboard and looked down to see he was in clean clothes, soft and skin-friendly. He searched around but found no phone or his own clothes.

Shen Yu looked around the room.

A handmade carpet, soft and snow-white down to the finest fibers; an ivory jade windowsill polished smooth and flawless; white gauze curtains cascading like water and silk, ending in pearl tassels—

Clearly, not a hospital.

Damn capitalists!

Shen Yu’s gaze slid over the agate and jade stones scattered on the coffee table. His sharp eyes spotted a flawless jadeite orb tucked into the sofa crevice, unassuming.

His instincts stirred—he wanted to pocket it.

System 007: 【Can’t take it.】

Shen Yu sighed and reluctantly gave up.

Once the saline finished, the doctor entered right on time. Shen Yu had a natural fondness for human doctors, and this one looked more familiar the longer he stared. Chen Jinyang—don’t think that white coat, glasses, and skin tanned eight shades darker fooled him!

Seeing the patient awake, the dark-skinned doctor Chen Jinyang lowered his eyes and pulled out his phone from his coat to send a message.

Spotting the familiar face, Shen Yu’s eyes lit up, and a delighted smile spread across his face. “Chen Jinyang, it’s you! Long time no see!”

“You are?” Hearing his name suddenly, Chen Jinyang paused his typing, looked up from his phone, and furrowed his sharp brows. Through his glasses, his gaze held a hint of wariness toward Shen Yu.

After all, time had passed. Their prior acquaintance wasn’t deep. For others, it wasn’t just a few days like for Shen Yu—it was a solid eight years.

Chen Jinyang shouldn’t remember him.

So Shen Yu pointed at himself and reintroduced. “Shen Yu. Don’t you remember?”

The name was the trigger. Chen Jinyang sized Shen Yu up and gradually recalled, matching name to face. He relaxed his brows slightly, then settled into an expression just right—not too distant, not too familiar.

“Shen Yu? Right, long time no see.” Chen Jinyang pocketed his phone, thought for a moment, then sauntered over to remove the needle.

Shen Yu watched Chen Jinyang deftly and gently extract the needle, immediately trying to cozy up and fish for info on his location.

Chen Jinyang saw through it and gave him a half-smile, ignoring the question. He pocketed his pen and impassively instructed Shen Yu to drink more water and avoid spicy foods lately.

Through their exchange, Chen Jinyang was watertight. After some back-and-forth, Shen Yu got no useful info, just a bunch of medical advice.

Once he left, Shen Yu flopped back on the bed in frustration and scanned the room.

Zhou Jinsheng owned countless properties, too many to count. Who knew which one this was?

West Hua Avenue? East City? West City?