Chapter 5: What Do You Want?

According to the cruise ship’s work schedule, the crew usually started their shifts at four in the morning. Wei Tingxia did intend to head out at that time, but as soon as he pushed open the cabin door, four bodyguards in black suits blocked his path.

Hu Yao’s exact words had been: “Mr. Wei, you don’t need to work for the time being.”

Wei Tingxia wanted to say he wouldn’t run away, but Hu Yao wouldn’t listen. He stood there like an iron tower, not prepared to budge an inch.

So Wei Tingxia gave up, turned around, lay down on the bed, and slept until someone knocked on the door.

The knocker was still Hu Yao. The six-foot-something burly man bent down and told Wei Tingxia condescendingly: “The sir wants to talk to you.”

Wei Tingxia squinted at him without moving.

It didn’t take much to see that Hu Yao was very angry at him, angry that he had left Yan Xinfeng five years ago. Thus, his behavior was quite cold, no longer as accommodating as before.

The contrast was too stark. Although Wei Tingxia had been prepared, he still felt very displeased.

It was as if everything was his fault, a bunch of snobbish bastards.

Annoyed in his heart, Wei Tingxia didn’t bother pretending on his face either. He said directly: “Wait while I change clothes.” Then he shut the door.

Five minutes later, he followed Hu Yao back to the top deck of the cruise ship.

It seemed someone had deliberately cleared the top deck for them during this time. The corridor was utterly silent, with only the faint sound of waves echoing quietly.

Hu Yao stopped in front of an ivory-white door and lightly knocked three times.

The door opened. Without needing any reminder, Wei Tingxia walked into the room.

Hu Yao closed the door behind him.

A faint fragrance wafted slowly through the room. The ivory-white walls curved smoothly, meeting the dark walnut paneling at the far end of the view.

Wei Tingxia’s gaze passed the gilded wall lamp by the door and landed on the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the indigo sea horizon was being sliced by the morning light into gradient color blocks.

Yan Xinfeng stood with his back to the door in front of the scenic window. The morning light gilded the folds of his suit’s hem in pale gold.

He heard Wei Tingxia’s footsteps and turned around. The shifting light draped a golden veil over him as well.

Lovers reuniting after a long separation, yet there was no moment of tender intimacy. The two stared at each other across a veil of illusory warm light.

Yan Xinfeng spoke first: “You did that on purpose.”

His tone was certain, as if he had already seen through Wei Tingxia’s every thought.

Since that was the case, Wei Tingxia had no need to deny it: “Yes.”

“What do you want?” Yan Xinfeng asked directly.

This reaction clearly caught Wei Tingxia off guard. His brows lifted slightly as he paced to the center of the room and sank leisurely into the leather armchair, as if the room were his own.

“Will you give me whatever I want?” he countered, a hint of playfulness in his tone, without the slightest guilt.

Yan Xinfeng’s gaze never left his face. He nodded decisively.

“Fine,” Wei Tingxia didn’t stand on ceremony with him, “I don’t want to be a waiter.”

“You were the one who applied for the job,” Yan Xinfeng pulled out a document he had prepared long ago and shook it in his hand. “You submitted the resume yourself and passed the interview.”

Wei Tingxia said: “That was just a means to an end. I never actually wanted to serve others.”

What he truly wanted to do had already been accomplished.

“. . .”

Yan Xinfeng took a deep breath and conceded: “Fine, you don’t have to work anymore.”

At the edge of his vision, the red polyline graph of light stopped surging upward and held at a bizarre stability.

Thus, Wei Tingxia made an additional demand: “Then please phrase it politely. Don’t let my colleagues bear the loss.”

“Anything else?”

Wei Tingxia stated matter-of-factly: “I’m not used to the bottom-level dorms.”

Yan Xinfeng sneered: “Want better accommodations? Fine, pay market rate.”

He paused, then deliberately asked: “Do you have the money?”

Wei Tingxia shook his head without changing expression, a glint of amusement even flashing in his eyes.

Of course he had no money. Why would he be a waiter if he did?

At this point in the conversation, Yan Xinfeng already knew exactly what he wanted.

He casually tossed the resume onto the floor, left the window, and slowly paced to the sofa. His eyes darkened deeply.

“So you’re broke, life isn’t comfortable anymore, and now that you see I’ve made it big, you come crawling back for money?”

His fingertip pressed against Wei Tingxia’s chin, forcing him to look up. The icy touch slid like the back of a blade across skin. His thumb ground heavily over the scar on the other’s left brow. As their eyes met, Yan Xinfeng’s lips curved into a mocking smile.

“Wei Tingxia, am I that cheap in your eyes?”

The words were harsh, whether toward himself or the other.

Thus, Wei Tingxia didn’t answer. Under Yan Xinfeng’s scrutiny, he slowly revealed a beautiful, obedient smile.

Yan Xinfeng was all too familiar with this smile—whenever Wei Tingxia wanted something, he would look at him with this obedient and gentle expression. It was a knife scraping at Yan Xinfeng’s bones, clouding his mind and making him unable to refuse.

As if scorched by fire at his fingertips, Yan Xinfeng suddenly released his grip and stepped back two paces.

That familiar sense of powerlessness from last night washed over him again. He didn’t understand why he still entangled himself with Wei Tingxia. He closed his eyes: “Fine.”

Yan Xinfeng’s voice carried a resigned hoarseness: “I’ll make the arrangements.”

Wei Tingxia smiled even more happily and tilted his head: “Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

Wei Tingxia thought for a moment: “Not for now.”

Yan Xinfeng silently pointed toward the door, his meaning clear.

Having gotten what he wanted, Wei Tingxia had no reason to linger. He stood up cleanly and left.

Then, in the corridor, he ran into Lu Zhao, who had been waiting for a while.

The almost-groom was on the cusp of great joy. Even after barely sleeping all night, he still looked radiant. Wei Tingxia had seen the bride’s information from System 0188 beforehand—a straightforward and bold girl who matched Lu Zhao’s personality well.

But that didn’t mean Wei Tingxia was in the mood to congratulate him on his upcoming wedding.

He remained silent, but Lu Zhao spoke first. The moment the door closed, Lu Zhao stubbed out his cigarette on the windowsill, his voice hoarse: “What do you want?”

This carefully considered question was thrown out directly. Lu Zhao’s gaze was piercing, locked firmly on Wei Tingxia.

Wei Tingxia smiled.

He said: “I want a lot of things.”

“For example?”

“For example . . .”

Wei Tingxia thought for a bit, his gaze shifting to the screen on his left. It swept over the temporarily stable polyline graph. “For example, I’m short on money lately.”

Lu Zhao asked directly: “Is twenty million enough?”

“What?”

“Twenty million,” Lu Zhao repeated. “I’ll transfer it to any account you want within two hours.”

Wei Tingxia raised a brow and played along: “And then?”

“Then you get off the ship at the next port and never show up again.”

That wouldn’t do. Wei Tingxia shook his head.

“You offer a lot,” he said factually, “but Yan Xinfeng can give me more.”

He clearly saw Lu Zhao’s temple twitch.

Ignoring the other’s suppressed emotions, Wei Tingxia continued: “Besides, I want more than just money.”

Lu Zhao took a deep breath and forcibly suppressed himself: “What else do you want?”

“A ton,” Wei Tingxia looked around. “Houses, luxury cars, cruise ships . . . I want to live like this for the rest of my life.”

“If you hadn’t left five years ago,” Lu Zhao’s voice tightened, “you’d be living this life right now, and it would only be better.”

Wei Tingxia said carelessly: “It’s not too late now.”

At the edge of his vision, the red line that had been about to break through the screen suddenly took a baffling turn and began extending downward. Though only a short segment, it brought a rare easing to the world’s collapsing momentum.

System 0188 mechanically clapped in his mind: [Too strong.]

Lu Zhao couldn’t see the Collapse Index, so he laughed in anger again.

He’d heard people say that when someone was speechless to the extreme, they’d laugh out loud. He hadn’t believed it before, but now he understood.

After laughing, he said: “Wei Tingxia, you’re nothing right now. Making excessive demands will just make me lose patience. When that happens, you’ll get nothing and might even get a one-way ticket to hell.”

“Is that a threat?” Wei Tingxia raised a brow.

“Interpret it however you like.”

“Fine,” Wei Tingxia nodded carelessly. “I’ll wait for your ticket.”

The ten o’clock morning sea sparkled with waves, sunlight streaming through the porthole and drawing a bright line between them. Wei Tingxia stood in the halo of light and suddenly curved his lips: “But . . . I’m curious if you can actually do it.”

Lu Zhao’s heart jolted, his pupils contracting.

Wei Tingxia was right; he really didn’t dare.

Anything could happen on this cruise ship, but the one thing that couldn’t was Wei Tingxia dying by his hand. If that occurred, he and Yan Xinfeng would be lifelong enemies, the irreconcilable kind.

It wasn’t worth ruining years of brotherhood over a money-grubbing con artist.

Lu Zhao was out of moves. He nodded: “Fine, you’re impressive.”

He pointed at Wei Tingxia from afar, turned, lit another cigarette, and waited until the footsteps faded before pushing open Yan Xinfeng’s door without another word.

Yan Xinfeng sat on the room’s armchair. When Lu Zhao entered, he was looking down in thought, his complexion much improved—no longer stiff as if he might pass out from anger any second.

Lu Zhao asked directly: “Did you hear it all?”

Yan Xinfeng looked up, expression unchanged: “Hear what?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Lu Zhao scoffed. “If you didn’t hear a word, I’d kneel and kowtow to you right now.”

He and Wei Tingxia had talked so long at the door; Yan Xinfeng couldn’t possibly have missed it. This bastard had probably been listening from the moment he opened his mouth.

“Have you arranged things for him?” Lu Zhao asked again.

“Top-floor suite with a private butler, right next to mine.”

Yan Xinfeng flipped through the paper resume on the desk without looking up: “The work handover will bypass all sensitive parts, no trouble for anyone.”

Every detail was seamless, completely eliminating any chance for Wei Tingxia to make trouble.

Silence spread through the cabin.

After a long while, Yan Xinfeng’s throat bobbed. Suddenly, he said: “I never thought I’d see him again.”

The words were as light as a sigh. Five years had passed, and the person who should have vanished forever had appeared abruptly on the horizon, bringing all the sealed past crashing down.

Lu Zhao nodded in understanding: “Don’t even get me started. My back’s still crawling with chills.” Those shoes of his were utterly ruined.

Yan Xinfeng forced a curve at his lips. The atmosphere eased a bit. Lu Zhao spun his cigarette case, recalling their earlier conversation, a bit puzzled.

He always felt like Wei Tingxia had been glaring at him disdainfully, as if he really couldn’t stand him. He wasn’t sure if it was an illusion.

But Lu Zhao had one good trait: he set aside things he couldn’t figure out and didn’t dwell. So he only puzzled over it for a few seconds before brushing it off.

Lu Zhao stood up, the leather sofa groaning under the strain: “Anyway, I’m out of moves. You two sort your own mess.”