The bodyguard pushed open the four-meter-tall cast aluminum door. What caught the eye were walls lined with crystal bricks and winding, secretive passageways, more akin to a hidden, private playground.
From the panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows on the 82nd floor, one could look down upon the priceless night view of Shanghai. The opposing high-rises soared into the clouds, their splendor as consistent as ever.
Such a life must be for those exceptionally fortunate in their birth, born into the extravagant end of a world drenched in luxury.
Looking up and forward, Zhou Luchen was playing mahjong at a square table, casually lighting a cigarette with a lighter. As the cigarette lingered between his lips and a wisp of smoke escaped, his Adam's apple subtly rolled, and he swallowed. The sight was more fascinating than decadent, a hint of a smile in his eyes, so refined that he seemed oblivious to worldly suffering.
The aura of the wealthy isn't something one can fake.
Amidst the fragrant steam of the tea, their conduct and conversation were impeccable.
Shen Jing understood why the bodyguard had absolutely insisted on keeping her phone. It was a clear rule: those seated here were scions with mighty family fortunes; the term "second-generation rich" would be an understatement. In the age of the internet, with the eminent status of Zhou Luchen's father, no one would dare bring recording devices close enough to expose even a sliver of his private life. Sometimes, knowing the name Zhou Luchen didn't mean you'd recognize his face. The powerful are exceptionally good at concealing their private lives.
Shen Jing fiddled with the chain of her purse, briefly lost in thought, just watching Zhou Luchen.
She must have been crazy; it reminded her of the nights he'd spent drenched in sweat.
But he was immersed in his glitzy world, with no time to glance her way.
The woman sitting closest to Zhou Luchen was a top-tier, internet-famous actress, with stunning looks and an enviable figure. Glorious beauty, Hong Kong style, with impressive curves. Her acting was decent, and her promotion was on fire. Those top-notch resources had indeed been obtained through Zhou Luchen. No one talked about it openly, but everyone in their circle knew the score.
The woman cooed, "Boss Zhou."
Such a clever title, a capitalist's term of respect.
Zhou Luchen's eyes lifted slightly. "What is it?"
With a tone both frank and charming, the woman said, "You haven't asked me out for so long. I always have to stage these 'coincidental' meetings; it's exhausting. What am I supposed to do?"
Blue smoke and white mist swirled before his eyes. Zhou Luchen laughed. "Is there something good you're hoping for from me?"
His laugh, with his slightly deep-set eyes, the corners gently indented, and his thin lips holding a spark from his cigarette, was exceptionally bewitching and passionate.
The woman, meeting his laugh, grew bolder. Tilting her upper body in an intimate gesture, she leaned close to Zhou Luchen's ear. "Anything you want for a good time, Boss Zhou."
Zhou Luchen lifted his hand, indicating the cigarette. "Careful, it'll burn you."
The implication was not to get too close. It could also mean he didn't want the cigarette to burn her, out of concern. After all, the words of a young master are always intentionally ambiguous.
The woman's smile was radiant. "I'm not afraid of getting burned."
"Be good." Zhou Luchen tapped the cigarette between his fingers. "Go make tea."
He insisted on being surrounded by beauty during his leisure, yet his stoic indifference could surface at will.
The actress, understanding the cue and not daring to offend him further, agreed with a smile and obediently went to brew his tea.
Only then, it seemed, did he give Shen Jing a brief glance or two.
At that moment, Shen Jing wanted to leave, but she noticed the four-meter-tall door had already been securely closed. No one cared who she was. Chen Yao, the one who had brought her in, was leaning against the bar asking the incense-brewing master for a lemon, completely unconcerned.
There weren't many people, just seven or eight, and Shen Jing didn't recognize any of them.
She looked to Zhou Luchen for help. "How do I open this door?"
Zhou Luchen snuffed out his cigarette, giving her only a glance.
Shen Jing gently pointed to the door.
He asked offhandedly, "Shen who?"
No one spoke up; there was no one surnamed Shen there.
Shen Jing quickly replied, "Shen Jing."
Had he forgotten her name, even after their night of indulgence? She still remembered being in his embrace, writing her name on the palm of his hand.
At that moment, the black and gold mahjong tiles slid across Zhou Luchen's fingertips. He looked certain to win, likely aiming for a pure suit hand. Indeed, the young master had good luck, and even better fate.
He laughed and asked leisurely, "Which 'Jìng'?"
Shen Jing sat down on the stool next to him and, using her index finger, once again traced the character for her given name on the red tablecloth.
All eyes involuntarily fell on Shen Jing, surprised. But then, realization dawned: it wasn't strange for the Second Young Master to always have beauties around him.
Zhou Luchen glanced at her. "What is it? Looking for someone?"
"I came to see you. Would you believe that?" Shen Jing replied.
Accustomed to such words, Zhou Luchen remained unflustered. "Do you know what you're saying?"
Shen Jing gently lifted her face to look at Zhou Luchen. "Do you think I'd dare to talk nonsense?"
Zhou Luchen merely gave her a cursory glance, yet that one look seemed to see right through her, as if it were all just a tantalizing game. But he had no interest in understanding Shen Jing. He lifted a slender, well-defined finger. "Do you know how to play cards? It doesn't matter if you don't."
"If you lose, it's on me."
Shen Jing knew how to play. When there were no performances, her troupe would gather to play cards to pass the time.
She reached for a tile. "The card," she whispered, so low it was almost inaudible, "why did you give it to me?"
As she spoke, she straightened the Nine Circles tile she had drawn and showed it to Zhou Luchen.
Zhou Luchen, teaching her hand-over-hand, used his finger to make her discard the Red Dragon tile. "Is that so?" he asked, his tone open, as if he truly had forgotten about giving her a card.
A master of pleasure and passion.
"Zhou Luchen."
She softly uttered his name.
He glanced at her, oozing laziness. "What are you calling Zhou Luchen for?"
Shen Jing turned to face him, just looking at him.
After all, they were two people who had shared a bed. When their eyes met, it was as if fire melded within, creating a magnetic field of unspoken desire between them.
On the crystal Incense Altar, a small Purple Furnace burned with incense, a dedicated incense-brewing master carefully tending to it. The air was filled with the aroma of Kynam incense—soft, rich, ancient, and exquisitely refined.
Kynam, a rare incense that takes a thousand years to form. The entire room smelled of burning money.
Top-grade white Kynam cost hundreds of thousands per gram. Its scent, shifting and ever-changing, perfectly complemented the mysterious aura surrounding Zhou Luchen.
Perhaps because her audacious use of his full name had been overheard, everyone lapsed into silence for a good half-minute. Some focused on their tiles. The player whose turn was before hers, ever so perceptive, discarded a Nine Circles tile. Go on and win, little girl, he silently urged. The Second Young Master has a notoriously bad temper.
Chen Yao, who had seen his share of drama, personally brought over a few cups of tea.
"I don't even call him by his full name," Chen Yao said.
Shen Jing arranged her tiles, a charming smile on her face. "Why not? Otherwise, wouldn't the Second Young Master have such a nice-sounding name for nothing?" she added, the lilt in her voice seductively bone-melting.
Zhou Luchen lightly tugged at the corner of his lip, then quickly returned to sipping his tea, indifferent.
Since she was sitting next to Zhou Luchen, the other players were all warm towards her, daring not to ignore her. She wasn't one to be easily intimidated.
This place was just for fun. Who was more genuine than the next? They probably wouldn't even remember faces the next day. They might even get the girls' names wrong.
「After a round」
The tea had also grown cold.
Zhou Luchen addressed his fellow players, "I'm bored. I'm heading back."
"Not staying for another game?" Chen Yao asked, puzzled.
"Got things to do."
He showed no interest. His long arm reached over Shen Jing to grab his suit jacket, brushing against her inadvertently from time to time. Static electricity caused a strand of her long hair to lift and tangle around his wristwatch.
Zhou Luchen glanced at Shen Jing.
Her shoulders tensed into a straight line from nervousness.
Such an innocent act.
The purple satin body-hugging dress clung to her figure. Her slim waist was held erect. She looked delicate, not quite a handful, yet to the touch, she felt surprisingly substantial, soft and fleshy.
His gaze detached from her. "Follow me."