Wen Tianlu stood at the doorway and quickly pieced it together from the reactions of those around him—they’d just been hit with one of Wen Jiang’s classic opening power plays.
His gaze lingered for a moment on the perfectly matched outfits of the two, then skipped over the others. With a hint of amusement, he turned to Lin Xun, who was staring intently, and walked over to say softly, “See? Xie Qi got the invite too, huh?”
Lin Xun caught the subtle teasing in his words. He seemed too lazy to explain right now and rubbed his brow with a serious expression. “You wouldn’t get it.”
What the hell are they even talking about? Jiang Hehu shuddered inwardly, eyeing the other two suspiciously. “What exactly are you two up to?”
He couldn’t pinpoint what felt off, but it just gave him the creeps.
“We want to know who Wen Jiang’s best friend is,” Wen Tianlu replied with a beaming smile.
…Trying to fool me? Jiang Hehu narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin with a biting remark. “You guys are really biting off more than you can chew.”
Who Wen Jiang’s close to is obvious, isn’t it? What are they playing at?
He suddenly remembered his last encounter with Wen Jiang had been a fight—and he’d lost. His brows furrowed again as he headed outside, urging them on. “Are we going or what? When the hell does your family’s banquet even start? Let’s just get this over with.”
“It’s not up to me,” Wen Tianlu said. He patted Lin Xun on the shoulder with a grin and followed along. “Besides, you’ll bail midway anyway. What’s the rush?”
So familiar.
Wen Jiang’s gaze landed on someone standing on the second-floor terrace. He sensed a humble plea in the man’s eyes.
The guy seemed anxious—that rational part of him screaming he had urgent business elsewhere, while emotionally he couldn’t tear himself away. “Audience” types like this sometimes turned to begging Wen Jiang when their feelings clashed too hard.
To spare any awkwardness like please, I really gotta hit the bathroom, Wen Jiang considerately allowed him to look away. The man’s shoulders slumped in visible relief as he hurried off. Wen Jiang caught a glimpse of his pale nape as he turned.
…The mark’s so faint.
The external school student who’d kneeled to Wen Tianlu in his memory—that had to be him. Wen Jiang had only glanced once back then and hadn’t noted the exact number, just that it was prominently tattooed. But under these bright lights, with his S-Grade innate vision, all he saw now was a barely-there trace.
Xie Qi, specialized in combat, would see it clearer. Wen Jiang turned to ask, “What’s the number?”
Xie Qi followed his gaze and replied, “Thirteen.”
So that number I overheard in the changing room was this. Wen Jiang nodded in understanding. “Ji surname?”
The Ji Family wasn’t obscure, but they had too many kids and had to “discard” some. People around here gossiped about “someone from the Ji Family went to Wen Tianlu’s side,” so Xie Qi had a vague impression of Ji Yu too.
“Yeah. Wen Tianlu numbers the people around him. Once they’re discarded, the mark’s gone,” Xie Qi said, holding Wen Jiang’s hand. He spotted Wen Tianlu, Lin Xun, and Jiang Hehu at the entrance from afar and suddenly asked, “You’ll see a few more like that later. Mind?”
He was staring meaningfully at Wen Tianlu. Wen Jiang paused for a second, realizing Xie Qi’s “mind” had nothing to do with No. 13.
He was just asking how Wen Jiang felt about all the people orbiting Wen Tianlu. Wen Jiang answered honestly. “No interest.”
Xie Qi hummed, his expression unreadable—satisfied or not, who knew. After a beat, he murmured darkly, “Sometimes I kinda wish you did mind.”
If Wen Jiang cared even a little more, Wen Tianlu wouldn’t get to yap like that. He’d have been out from the start.
Xie Qi was competing here over some “purity” metric. If Wen Tianlu overheard, he’d probably feel hard done by. No one actually messed around with “dogs,” after all—he wasn’t that indiscriminate.
Wen Jiang thought it over and figured that if he had to care, there were other angles worth considering first.
He had zero interest in digging into the truth or judging. Back in the bathroom, he hadn’t sensed any reluctance from No. 13.
“Not really something to mind or not,” Wen Jiang said candidly. The issue got complicated fast—involving everyone’s views on friendships. Xie Qi had mentioned discarding so casually, like tossing trash.
He recalled Qian Lang awkwardly warning himself off people who “played too much.” Wen Jiang had no urge to “correct” his friends’ real thoughts.
If any of them had that preachy streak, they wouldn’t be friends.
That said, if Qian Lang or Xie Qi suddenly confessed to something like this—with numbers from 1 to 100 on their tabs—it’d hit him hard. So he added, “He’s not you, so it doesn’t matter.”
The easy confidence around Xie Qi vanished in a flash. Wen Jiang felt their joined hands heat up. He glanced down, then up at Xie Qi’s increasingly flushed face.
“I’d never,” Xie Qi muttered, gripping tighter.
…That touched him this much?
“Good,” Wen Jiang said. Standing around watching would look weird. As a responsible dance partner, he took the lead and pulled Xie Qi toward the approaching trio. “Let’s go.”
The Wen Family engagement banquet didn’t drag on.
Wen Ruoyue enjoyed the elegant vibe of dances and slow rhythms, but that didn’t make her some stickler for classical etiquette. In truth, she loved when improper antics spiced up the refined atmosphere.
Days ago, she’d griped that the opening ceremony took too long. Wen Tianlu always chimed in, and their sibling tag-team had carved out half the schedule for free dancing time.
Wen Jiang’s “battle” had begun the moment he stepped out of the car. He stuck strictly to every addendum in his practical assignment, though his biggest takeaway was that his three card buddies were upping the difficulty.
Okay, Wen Jiang reflected a bit inappropriately—he used No. 1, 2, and 3 for them too. Their poker seats were fixed, and he tracked cards as “left-hand No. 1 played what,” “No. 2’s got what left.” Over time, it stuck as mental shorthand.
Anyway, card buddy No. 1—Wen Tianlu, obviously—kicked off by breaking the “no dancing with others” rule first. As Wen Jiang reached for dessert, a cool hand tapped his shoulder from behind. He turned to see Wen Tianlu holding a plate with a favorite mini cake of his.
Wen Jiang took the treat and politely declined the invite.
“Mm,” Wen Tianlu drawled, still smiling. “Fair enough.”
Next, card buddy No. 2—Lin Xun—called him over on the way back to Xie Qi, face full of hesitant curiosity. He finally asked, “You using your Supernatural Ability right now?”
Xie Qi didn’t cramp Wen Jiang’s style, just insisted he stay in sight. But Lin Xun didn’t buy it—at least, not with Xie Qi glaring daggers from across the hall, like he was about to get murdered. How long is he holding that first-meeting grudge? I’m the biggest victim here! It was a permanent marker!
Lin Xun couldn’t help it. “Can we talk alone?”
No way I’m breaking the addendums. Wen Jiang shot back coldly, “No.”
He hadn’t forgotten the original question. After two steps, he glanced back silently, meeting Lin Xun’s curious stare. “Guess.”
Lin Xun: …
Wen Jiang strode off confidently.
Finally, card buddy No. 3—Jiang Hehu—specialized in verbal jabs, constantly testing the “standard dance partner” boundaries.
Wen Jiang mostly stuck to Xie Qi: same table, shared cake. After the first snack run, Xie Qi just got up and went with him everywhere. Jiang Hehu watched them repeatedly, finally snapping as he passed. Out of nowhere: “Does he need you to hold his hand to walk?”
Am I coming off like a caregiver for the disabled? Wen Jiang pondered briefly, then dismissed the unfair critique.
Besides, the social butterfly role was kinda nixed by the no-dancing rule. Wandering solo wouldn’t raise eyebrows? Better to play the devoted partner.
Wen Jiang ignored him and casually hooked his arm more intimately into Xie Qi’s. Xie Qi had a retort ready but froze, words dying. Jiang Hehu gawked in disbelief, then huffed off in a huff.
Wen Jiang had nipped a partner clash in the bud—smoothly. He dropped his arm, satisfied, and went for another mini cake.
Xie Qi glanced at his freed arm, helpless, and followed.
More petty interferences like that cropped up plenty. Things eased after the banquet hit midpoint; the trio vanished collectively—probably bored and holing up in a second-floor box, knowing them.
Xie Qi’s initial task focused on dancing, but teacher tweaks included pre- and post-. Ghosting early or squeezing in late wouldn’t fly. Wen Jiang stayed in the first-floor hall with Xie Qi.
Dancing was last anyway, leaving him at loose ends. He scanned the crowd and spotted more necks marked deep or shallow.
No. 6, 8, 11, 15… Another No. 8.
The venue’s desserts and fruits were top-notch. Skipping dinner was the right call, Wen Jiang thought, munching while observing.
No. 11 this time… Oh, 11 and 15 were arguing.
The almost-bride looked thrilled, her face screaming this is exactly why I invited you.
But with Wen Tianlu absent, she sighed regretfully after.
Xie Qi peeled grapes for Wen Jiang nearby. A Bohr Hotel server noticed but clocked it as couple foreplay and stayed back.
Wen Jiang popped a grape, then spotted No. 6 and 7 scrapping in a corner—but security hustled them out quick.
No. 15 arguing with someone else.
…Do I even need to stop Xie Qi and Jiang Hehu from bickering?
Third No. 8 sighting.
Wen Jiang pieced together a pattern: Some invitees skipped, but among those here, petty spats were kicked off by the faint-mark crowd. Made sense—erased numbers meant cut ties with Wen Tianlu, yet they showed anyway. Lingering thoughts, probably.
Which meant… Wen Jiang realized No. 13 hadn’t resurfaced.
