That barked “Get lost!” was overpowering, slamming directly into the heart. The circle that had formed around Lin Qinghe instantly spread outward, leaving an empty space.
“Let go, let go! Tsk!” The man who had cursed Lin Qinghe the loudest had his wrist twisted and wrenched sideways. His camera crashed to the ground and shattered, and he struggled fiercely against that overwhelming strength, but he couldn’t budge it in the slightest. Panting sharply, he shouted, “You… who the hell are you? Mind your own damn business!”
The moment those words were out, the twist on his wrist intensified, and the faint sound of bones creaking could be heard.
“I… f—…”
Lin Qinghe released Xi Nian and tilted his head up slightly. In his line of sight, Cen Han’s jawline was cold and hard, his sword-like brows like blades, as he looked down from above, subduing the troublemaker. That hand was long, defined, with a faint mole on the back of the thumb. Suited, it carried a deep, restrained austerity.
The warmth dissipated, like an illusion. He averted his eyes and asked Xi Nian if she was okay.
Xi Nian shook her head, leaning in worriedly. “I’m fine, Brother Qinghe. Where did you get hurt?”
Lin Qinghe gently covered his chin. “Might’ve been a little cut.”
As if Cen Han had overheard, the pained howling grew even more miserable.
“Ah, ah! Tsk!”
The pain was so intense that cold sweat beaded on the man’s forehead. His reactions grew sluggish; by the time he thought to retaliate with his feet and other hand, he had already taken a solid punch.
“Cough, cough… cough, cough…” He staggered a few steps and was supported by his cohorts. He Liang bent over, wiping the corner of his mouth. Under the streetlight, traces of blood could be seen. He raised his head, his gaze vicious.
The pain had been so sharp before that his attention scattered. Now, looking closely, he finally saw clearly what the man standing beside Lin Qinghe looked like. He had some background; from his attire alone, it was clear he wasn’t someone they could afford to provoke.
He carefully rubbed his wrist, but his tone remained high and mighty. “What’s the deal? Us brothers just can’t stand people who use dirty tricks to take what belongs to others. We only scolded him, didn’t actually lay a hand on him. You nearly twisted my bones apart and gave me a punch. Tsk, isn’t that a bit too much?”
His companions watched warily, clearly aware that things might get complicated. They had originally planned to hassle Lin Qinghe, ask a few explosive questions, snap some photos and videos, and then take off. After that, they would hand the evidence over to their employer, and money would fill their pockets.
But who could have predicted someone would suddenly show up to help halfway through?
Cen Han slowly adjusted his lapels, the gesture exuding a calm composure and measured arrogance. His gaze was sharp. “Which media outlet?”
“What ‘which media outlet’?” He Liang tugged at the corner of his mouth. “We just wanted to scare Lin Qinghe. You’re taking it seriously?”
He continued with his shameless bluster. “We scolded him, you hit back. We’re even. Let’s go our separate ways, each back to our own mothers.”
“Don’t you dare leave!” Xi Nian had her phone out, recording video. From start to finish, she got every single face on tape. Her urge to destroy the planet was at its peak. “Anyone tries to leave! I’ll sue until he doesn’t have a single pair of underpants left. Fine, bullying someone like this! If I’m unhappy today, none of you get to be happy either!”
“Hey! Who’s suing who? You’re violating my portrait rights!” He Liang covered his face and backed away, feigning an escape.
“Go ahead and run.” Xi Nian shook her phone a little, issuing a warning. “Run, and tomorrow you’ll find out what ‘regret is too late’ really means.”
He Liang cursed a dirty word under his breath. “What do you want?”
“I should be the one asking you that.” Xi Nian folded her arms across her chest. As a capable assistant, she was composed and methodical, handling trouble for her artist. “Who sent you to lie in wait outside the hotel?”
“No one sent us. I told you, we just couldn’t stand it and rounded up a few brothers to gross him out.” He Liang had moved too much, pulling at the flesh where he’d been hit, twisting his expression into something hideous.
“I don’t believe it’s just a coincidence.” Xi Nian sneered. These people were clearly prepared, their questions pointed and targeted, a deliberate smear on Lin Qinghe. Just because of some personal grudge, going to all this trouble—it wasn’t worth it, and it wasn’t necessary. Even an excuse about wanting to stir up clickbait with a malicious interview would be more convincing than “couldn’t stand it.” It proved they were lying.
And from the very start, they had seemed very concerned about the footage they’d managed to get.
She stated firmly, “Delete everything you recorded. All of it.”
“Oh, come off it, big sis, what could anyone capture in such a short time?” Another man, Zhang Ming, put on an impatient expression, secretly hiding his camera behind his back. His shifty gaze gave his nervousness away.
“Yeah, we didn’t get anything.”
“Yeah, yeah, what could we have gotten?”
Xi Nian was about to laugh from sheer fury. They were the ones doing the scummy thing, yet they dared to turn around and point fingers with righteous indignation. It was utterly despicable.
“Two choices. One: I watch each of you delete the files myself. Two: you all beg to be allowed to delete them.”
What a boast. He Liang and Zhang Ming exchanged glances. She was just a tiny assistant, yet she was talking this big.
Things had gone too far now, and there was no way out. Even if some info got leaked, they wouldn’t mind taking a bit of damage, so long as the exposure happened; the pay their employer offered was enough to live comfortably for life. But the fact was, not only had they failed to get full video proof that Lin Qinghe had a sugar daddy behind him, but they might also be held accountable.
They weren’t sure if incomplete video would satisfy the employer, but the employer’s original instructions had classified hurling insults and attacking Lin Qinghe as part of the job.
“Bring a few men, hotel entrance.” While Xi Nian was confronting the group, Cen Han had dialed Zhang Hua’s number. He gave two brief instructions, then hung up and spoke to Xi Nian. “Send me the video you recorded. I’ll have someone investigate.”
“Hey, hey hey hey, we can talk this over!” At the word “investigate,” Zhang Ming couldn’t help but speak up. “We really didn’t get anything. Lin Qinghe didn’t say a single word the whole time, so there’s no explosive scoop. People who don’t know better would just think we were harassing him. We can’t gain anything… from this.”
Cen Han lifted his eyes to look at Zhang Ming. He didn’t say a word, but it instantly silenced the man as if he’d been gripped by the throat.
This kind of thing wasn’t very useful to report to the police. As unpopular as he might be, Lin Qinghe was still a public figure. He was already drawing controversy, and if word spread widely, it would do nothing but harm.
So a private resolution was the best way. But how to resolve it privately, and through what means—that was a different question.
Lin Qinghe had been deep in thought for a while, recalling the strange waiter he had encountered in the elevator earlier. Connecting it to today’s events, he seemed to find a few clues.
“Mr. Cen, there’s a possibility. I bumped into a strange waiter in the hotel.”
He Liang and the others’ faces instantly shifted.
.
“Mr. Yan, something’s come up.” In a corner, the hotel manager quietly informed the boss of the situation. “An artist under Starlight Entertainment was deliberately waylaid. He got knocked around in a few places, and they suspect it’s connected to someone inside the hotel.”
When Yan Yue got the call, he was still sitting on the lounge sofa in a private karaoke room, arms wrapped around companions on both sides, deep in revelry. Someone had opened a rare vintage of red wine to curry favor, and a few glasses had already made him tipsy. He had outright ignored the manager’s first three calls.
It wasn’t until the beauty beside him pointed out that so many calls probably meant an emergency that he stepped out of the room to answer. The moment the manager mentioned Cen Han’s name, more than half his buzz evaporated. That was someone he could not afford to offend.
He hurriedly left mid-entertainment and rushed to the hotel’s first floor. The manager, adept at social niceties, had invited the party to the VIP lounge to wait for a short while, with tea, fruits, and pastries fully laid out.
“Internal staff? How would internal staff get tangled up with an artist?” Yan Yue’s mind was briefly short-circuited. Floating Fate Hotel had hosted many celebrities before, but nothing like this had ever happened.
For one, strict rules forbade staff from leaking any information about celebrity guests. For another, normal people wouldn’t be that reckless. The phrase “an artist was bruised” alone sounded absurd.
And yet, absurd as it was, it was real.
The manager was equally baffled. He had to admit, when those beefy bodyguards—each looking like they had at least a few lives on their conscience—stood before him, he had even figured out how to recite his own phone’s browsing history.
“Mr. Cen means to check the surveillance footage. His artist seems to have an idea who it was.”
Yan Yue rubbed his chin. “How do you think his mood is?”
This “his” was unquestionably referring to Cen Han.
The manager lit a mental candle. “Mm… probably not great.”
They were screwed.
Yan Yue entered the VIP lounge, reining in all traces of his previous carefree carousing.
There were quite a few people; the bodyguards alone filled four or five spots, their towering frames squeezing the air out of the room. Even from this distance, his heart raced, let alone for He Liang and Zhang Ming, who were up close.
Assistant Zhang Hua was contacting professionals to find out the identities of He Liang and the others. A laptop sat on the small table, its file contents obscured.
Beside the assistant was presumably the Starlight Entertainment artist.
He sat on a cushioned stool, his head tilted back slightly. A young woman was using a cotton swab dipped in medicinal liquid to dab at the scraped skin. The chandelier was bright, and that face was clearly visible, without a single flaw.
“Brother Qinghe, tell me if it stings.”
“Okay.”
Yan Yue’s heart trembled. No wonder they’d made such a scene. A love of beauty was common to all, no exceptions.
If it were him, his mood might be even worse than Cen Han’s.
“Mr. Cen,” he greeted him. “I’m the hotel owner, Yan Yue. Whatever you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Cen Han’s suit was immaculate, the single-button closure undone. At Yan Yue’s words, he looked over and spoke concisely. “The surveillance footage from the elevator the afternoon Lin Qinghe checked in. I need to find someone.”
The hotel entrance, front desk, corridors, elevators, and stairwells all had cameras installed. The purpose was to prevent unresolvable disputes between guests and staff, and to guard against unforeseen accidents like elevator malfunctions or fires.
Yan Yue nodded and asked, “The hotel has several elevator banks, each with a camera inside. What floor and room is Mr. Lin staying on?”
Cen Han replied, “Second floor, 226.”
“Very well, I’ll have the surveillance manager check right away.” Yan Yue moved quickly, calling the person in charge of the monitoring room to pull up the records. Then he summoned the manager. “Where’s Li Kai?”
“He should be at the Enduring Hall. I’ll go get him.”
“Mm, go. Don’t disturb the guests at the Enduring Hall.” After speaking, Yan Yue explained to Cen Han, “Li Kai handles staffing. He knows the employees’ shift schedules, so it might be easier to identify the person Mr. Lin is referring to.”
