Chapter 73: Nobleman 2?

Chen Ji had been forcibly dragged into the car. Only after he settled into his seat did he realize something was off about the vehicle.

A typical car had three seats in the back row. Flanking Chen Ji were the two burly men who had hauled him aboard—bodyguards, no doubt. Across from him sat two more people, with another pair up front.

The pair facing him meant the car was unusually spacious. It certainly wasn’t anything like his Wuling Minivan.

The young man who had spoken earlier was eyeing him closely. Chen Ji gazed back with keen focus. He had agreed to come along precisely because of the purple Lines emanating from this young man. Now inside the car, the ambient natural Lines were blocked out, giving him a sharper view.

The young man had handsome features. The Lines tracing his expression revealed an unmistakable air of superiority—the mark of someone long accustomed to power, rich or noble for sure.

The young man let out a small “uh,” then waved his hand in front of Chen Ji’s face. “How are you still blind?”

Chen Ji replied good-naturedly, “I had a little accident. Can’t see for now. Just came from a traditional Chinese medicine clinic… May I ask who you are? What’s this about?”

The young man said, “Nothing much. A friend of mine has a birthday coming up, and you know him. I’m taking you to see him.”

Chen Ji pressed, “Which friend?”

“Don’t ask questions you shouldn’t,” the young man replied, legs crossed and chin lifted as he commanded, “Take anything he shouldn’t have.”

One of the bodyguards beside him immediately snatched Chen Ji’s phone and patted down his pockets without a word. The young man showed no interest in checking the phone himself. Chen Ji sat quietly, showing no sign of resistance—which only made the young man find him all the more intriguing.

Word had long spread through their circle about Zhao Chengying ditching everything for love to work as a lowly office drone. The funniest part was that Young Master Zhao had spent nearly two years on the chase and still came up empty. Just recently, he’d pursued his quarry all the way to this backwater county town, only to mysteriously tumble off a cliff and end up in the hospital. Once his family got wind of it, they whisked him back home overnight.

According to that bigmouth Yun Shaoyang, Zhao Chengying hadn’t wanted to leave. He’d thrown a fit, desperate to stay, but his family had sedated him and dragged him off.

Today, Fan Sen had gotten lucky and run into the guy. Simple as that—drag him back. He couldn’t stand watching a bro suffer for love.

The young man—Fan Sen—asked, “You’re just coming along like this? Not scared?”

“Not really,” Chen Ji said with a faint smile. “I’m a grown man. What’s there to fear?”

Fan Sen found the man more fascinating by the second. From the photos, Chen Ji had seemed merely good-looking, nothing special. But Yun Shaoyang insisted you had to see him in person. And yeah, up close, he was a far cry from the pictures.

That unflappable composure alone was enough to earn respect.

Chen Ji hadn’t expected the trip to last over an hour. And that was just the start. They hadn’t even gotten out when he heard the roar of a plane slicing through the clouds. Ushered along by airport staff greetings, their group was led to a private lounge. Less than half an hour later, they boarded the plane.

Chen Ji: “…?”

Where the hell were they going?

He could make out the Lines produced by objects, but printed words on paper were beyond him. No one—not the young man or the others—had mentioned a destination, so he truly had no clue.

System Cat: [Hmph, now you get how important eyes are, huh?]

The System Cat had deliberately stayed mum. Chen Ji had even hoped his sight would take a month or two to return! The Old Daoist Priest had quit treating him in the end anyway! Yeah, let him taste the hardship of being visually impaired. See if he’d mouth off again!

Chen Ji sighed helplessly. [I was wrong. So where are we headed now?]

System Cat: [Straight to S City. Congrats on your first private jet ride. Too bad you can’t see it.]

Chen Ji: […?]

Private jet now?

Unable to resist, the System Cat screenshotted and shared the mental signal. Only then did Chen Ji perceive the plane’s layout. Compared to a standard aircraft, this was more like a flying living room—complete with sofas, a liquor cabinet, TV, and projector. Beyond lay two or three small bedrooms.

Chen Ji now sat in the living room area. Four men in black suits were clearly bodyguards. Fan Sen lounged in the center, with a bespectacled man in a blue suit beside him—likely an assistant. Besides them were Chen Ji and a few flight attendants.

Chen Ji lapsed into thought. S City?

Of course he knew S City; he’d lived there for over twenty years and had plenty of acquaintances. But he couldn’t think of anyone there who’d send a private jet.

He was an ordinary guy. Sure, there were wealthy folks around him, but not on this level.

…Could it be Zhao Chengying?

Nah, that seemed unlikely.

The System Cat snickered. [Bingo. It’s all because of Zhao Chengying. That guy across from you is texting the Zhao Chengying buddy you met before.]

A click sounded—probably a phone camera shutter. Chen Ji looked up at the noise. Fan Sen glanced at him, then waved dismissively. Two bodyguards approached. “Master Chen, please come with us.”

Chen Ji stood and was led to a bedroom. The door locked behind him.

Alone at last, Chen Ji relaxed. He sat on the bed while the System Cat rolled with laughter in his mind. Chen Ji said wearily, [What do you see?]

System Cat: [One Point?]

Chen Ji: [Pass.]

The System Cat laughed solo. Chen Ji could hear it, which meant things probably weren’t dire—otherwise, it wouldn’t be chuckling.

Exhausted from a poor night’s sleep in the guesthouse, Chen Ji washed up in the bathroom and hit the bed.

He slept straight through until a bodyguard woke him, warning that they had twenty minutes until landing. Chen Ji freshened up a bit and followed the man out.

The flight from the nearest airport to S City took about two and a half hours. It was now afternoon, and he’d missed lunch. An attendant escorted him back to the living room and politely asked if he’d like a light meal. Chen Ji nodded and ordered one.

When Fan Sen emerged, he saw Chen Ji eating unhurriedly, utterly at ease—as if he hadn’t been half-kidnapped aboard. Fan Sen needled him on purpose. “Who said you could eat?”

Chen Ji swallowed his bite, set down his chopsticks, and asked, “Did you drag me here just to starve me to death?”

If they really wanted him dead, why not just open the hatch and air-drop him? He’d splatter for sure, no intact corpse guaranteed.

Fan Sen faltered, muttered a low “fuck,” and plopped down nearby.

Chen Ji’s timing was impeccable; he finished just as the plane touched down. He was hustled into another car. This leg crawled, taking two hours amid traffic jams to reach their destination.

Typical S City—traffic clogged every day of the week.

It felt like a hotel or private club, not yet open for business, with an empty lobby. Chen Ji was shown to a room and locked in, as usual.

He found a sunny spot, propped his chin on one hand, and let the three o’clock sun warm his back.

No phone meant boredom. If he had one, he’d probably call the Old Daoist Priest to ask if that reading about his master’s ancestor was accurate. The young man did have purple aura, but he hardly seemed like a true benefactor.

The fact that Chen Ji sat here so peacefully stemmed from his compliance—no resistance. Those bodyguards weren’t pushovers. Any sign of defiance en route, and he’d likely still be out cold. The locked door confirmed it: this was a kidnapping, plain and simple.

What would Chang Xu think if he learned Chen Ji had been snatched less than an hour after leaving? Chen Ji chuckled at the thought. And what about the Mountain Lord up top? If he heard Chen Ji had been kidnapped mid-medical visit down the mountain, whose head would roll—his or the kidnappers’?

Perfect chance to test their reactions.

Click. The door opened, and Fan Sen walked in. Seeing Chen Ji bathed in light, he asked, “What’re you laughing about?”

Chen Ji didn’t miss a beat. “It’s relaxing. Feels good, so I smiled.”

Fan Sen had never met anyone like him. Curious, he pressed, “You don’t even ask who I’m taking you to see? No panic at being dragged off like this?”

“You’ll show me soon enough,” Chen Ji said. “Besides, I’m sick. Truth is, I don’t have the energy. Resting while I can is nice.”

Fan Sen scoffed, then several others entered the room. “Get him cleaned up,” he ordered before leaving.

As dusk fell, S City glowed with neon lights and revelry.

Yun Shaoyang nudged Zhao Chengying with an elbow. “It’s your birthday today. The bros threw this party for you—no need to scowl like that.”

Zhao Chengying looked icy. “Not in the mood.”

Yun Shaoyang winked. “A Sen’s got a huge surprise lined up. You’ll love it!”

Zhao Chengying didn’t bite; he knew his friends too well. Call it a surprise, and prying wouldn’t yield squat. He just grunted. Yun Shaoyang, seeing that “you owe me billions” face, lost interest too. Hands in pockets, they waited for the elevator.

It soon dinged at the top floor. Doors parted to a burst of confetti cannons and raining streamers. Yun Shaoyang dodged with a laughing curse. “What the hell? We eating or not?”

Fan Sen tossed the cannon aside. “Hey, just trying to liven things up!”

This was their usual haunt. Fan Sen—the very young man who’d fetched Chen Ji—grabbed Zhao Chengying and led them to the table. Three more guys sat there, all clearly rich heirs. “Turning twenty-three today, Chengying. A toast from your bros.”

Zhao Chengying picked up his wineglass and drained it in one gulp. Cheers erupted from the crowd, and they called over more people to join the drinking. After several rounds of toasting, Zhao Chengying sat in the center of the VIP booth, his eyes lowered demurely. He was clearly the host of this gathering tonight, yet he looked more like one of the escorts.

Fan Sen winked at Yun Shaoyang, who took the hint and sidled over to draw Zhao Chengying’s attention. “Haven’t you reached out to that boss of yours since you got back?” he asked.

Zhao Chengying buried his face in another drink. “Nope.”

He didn’t dare to.

If it was just fooling around, his family wouldn’t care. But if real feelings got involved, they’d clamp down hard. They were second-generation heirs, not first-gen like Chen Ji—an ordinary guy who couldn’t possibly hold up against that kind of pressure.

Yun Shaoyang clapped him on the shoulder, genuinely puzzled. “What exactly do you like about him? His looks?”

Zhao Chengying lifted his chin just a fraction, the effortless arrogance bred from a life of luxury on full display. “Isn’t everyone on this floor?”

He shoved Yun Shaoyang’s hand away, his lips curling slightly. “You know shit.”

Yun Shaoyang flopped back onto the sofa with a laugh. “Keep it down—A Sen actually brought someone. Don’t go slapping your own face later.”

Before Zhao Chengying could respond, Fan Sen shoved a man right into his arms. He instinctively pushed the guy away, snarling, “Get lost!”

The man dropped onto the sofa, clearly miffed at the rough treatment. Zhao Chengying opened his mouth to curse him out, but suddenly froze. He blinked, double-checking his eyes weren’t deceiving him. “…Chen Ji?”

Chen Ji frowned and tugged at the silk scarf—or was it a ribbon?—around his neck. Someone else had tied it for him, and he didn’t like how stiff it felt, like it was choking him.

The pale purple ribbon slipped from his collar as he pulled at it, leaving his shirt unbuttoned at the top and revealing a glimpse of smooth skin. Hearing his name, Chen Ji looked up. “Yeah?”