Chen Wan’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest.
“No.” He still looked perfectly calm.
The flame guarded between his palms swayed in the night, leaping inside the endless dark. It was like the hidden surge beneath the still water under the ship, undercurrents roiling deep below, freezing those ten quiet seconds of their locked gazes into a thick, deep-blue painting.
Zhao Shengge seemed faintly mocking. He took the lighter straight from Chen Wan’s hand. The cigarette had already gone out during their silent stare-down, so he lowered his head, frowned slightly, and relit it himself.
The sea wind snapped his shirt sharply around him, outlining his tall, superior frame. His hair was a little disheveled. Standing beside the railing, he looked like the arrogant, unruly, invincible star of some nineties Hong Kong film.
Fuck, so damn beautiful, Chen Wan thought expressionlessly.
But he only looked once before looking away. Courteously, he stepped half a pace back, pulling the distance between them into a safer dimension.
It was useless.
Zhao Shengge held the cigarette between his teeth. There was a very faint scent on him. Chen Wan did not know what it was, but it was like lethal rosemary, disturbing him until his mind was in chaos and his soul was almost scattered.
The other man toyed with Chen Wan’s lighter in his hand and even brought it before his eyes for a closer look, showing very little intention of giving it back.
His private property had been confiscated for no reason, and Chen Wan did not ask a single unnecessary why. He only regretted, in secret, that he had not carried something more expensive and better with him.
A Cartier was really too unfair to Zhao Shengge.
After Zhao Shengge finished lighting his cigarette, he still ignored him. With both elbows propped on the railing, he looked out at the night sea with complete composure.
Chen Wan was still wondering whether he ought to leave when Qin Zhaoting came out and smiled. “I couldn’t find anyone anywhere. So the two of you were here.”
He said it as if they had agreed to sneak out for a break together. Chen Wan smiled and replied frankly, “I came out to clear my head and happened to run into Mr. Zhao.”
His tone was extremely polite, leaving no room for anyone to misunderstand and think he and Zhao Shengge were familiar.
Only when he faced Zhao Shengge alone would Chen Wan show the faintest fluctuation. Those tiny cracks made him seem a little more alive, a little less false.
But the moment outsiders were present, his mind and body automatically switched him into a flawless standard mode. His smiling mask was beautiful and proper, giving no one anything to criticize.
The amused smile in Qin Zhaoting’s eyes deepened. “Come back once you’ve rested enough. Youming is urging everyone to the table.”
The time to begin the cards had been calculated. Once midnight passed, the second half was about to start again.
Chen Wan lifted his foot to go inside, but Zhao Shengge said mildly, “What’s the rush? You won’t even let someone finish a cigarette?”
“……”
Chen Wan was pinned in place again.
Zhao Shengge’s speech was not actually severe, but his status and methods gave everything he said and did an overwhelmingly powerful aura. The calmer he was, the more he inspired awe.
Qin Zhaoting raised an eyebrow. “It won’t be auspicious if we miss the hour, will it?”
There were many feng shui considerations about going out to sea, and there were even more subtleties at the gambling table: seat direction, lucky hours, auspicious timing.
Zhao Shengge did not care about any of that. In the face of absolute power, one could look down on feng shui. He stood there steadily without moving, like an iceberg on the surface of the ocean, forcing whale pods to halt and ships to give way.
Since he said that, Qin Zhaoting did not leave either.
No one spoke.
“……”
Chen Wan put on that pleasant, amiable smile again and smoothed things over. “Mr. Zhao won too many prizes tonight. He must be leaving a little luck for everyone else.”
Qin Zhaoting turned directly to him. “And you, Mr. Chen?”
Zhao Shengge also looked at Chen Wan.
One was urging him to leave. One would not let him go.
Chen Wan would not offend Qin Zhaoting, but he wanted to lean toward Zhao Shengge. “I’ll stay here and catch some of Mr. Zhao’s good luck. Later, at the card table, we can see whether it works. How about that?”
Since he had put it that way, Qin Zhaoting laughed too. “Fine. Then later we’ll see whether it works.”
There was no telling whether Zhao Shengge was satisfied with this answer. He simply leaned against the railing, finished that cigarette at an unhurried pace, then watched the sea for a while longer, his head tilted, looking very relaxed.
Chen Wan stood quietly beside him and waited.
In the second half, everyone became even more excited. Chen Wan had just publicly said he was going to catch Zhao Shengge’s good luck, so naturally he could not lose. But he knew how to conduct himself. After winning a few rounds, he began hiding his skill again, and even rounded off the explanation in advance—Mr. Zhao’s good luck was very loyal; other people could not take it away. Chen Wan had been fortunate enough to catch a tiny bit, and now it was used up.
Even Qin Zhaoting could find no fault in that. He burst out laughing.
Chen Wan was willing to lose, and everyone was happy to accept the favor, winning from him one after another.
The money was secondary. What mattered was the auspicious prize. Hai City businessmen cared deeply about things like that.
But once young masters started playing, they had no sense of proportion. One or two of them had no concept of money at all. In the final few rounds, someone’s gambling addiction surged up, and like a drunk loudly urging others to drink, he joined the uproar and told Chen Wan to take off the watch on his wrist too.
What was the point of only playing for money? To people like them, money had no value at all.
The watch on Chen Wan’s wrist was not any famous luxury piece, but he had worn it for many years. It was a private item kept close to his body. The act of taking off a watch at a gambling table carried some humiliation after all. In this round, he did not plan to go easy anymore.
Letting people know your bottom line—this was the first lesson nine-year-old Chen Wan had learned at Little Olive Mountain.
A group of people were chattering noisily. Zhao Shengge was irritated by the din. He lifted his eyelids and lazily pushed all his chips forward, saying he would take the bank.
The solid-gold chips crashed loudly. Everyone looked over, one after another saying they wanted to follow the bank.
Zhao Shengge spread his hands, meaning they were free to do as they liked.
There were four people at the table. The two opposite players had already paired off in the previous round, and this round they were playing as partners, so they could not follow. The only one left was Chen Wan. He could follow Zhao Shengge, or he could establish his own bank.
After a long while without hearing anyone speak, Zhao Shengge did not lift his head. He asked casually, “Are you following or not?”
Chen Wan froze for a moment. He had not intended to follow. He did not have many chips left, so even if he did, he could not help Zhao Shengge much. But he would not refuse Zhao Shengge in front of so many people, so he said he would follow.
For people below the table, following did not matter. Once one was on the table, it was different. Zhao Shengge called him by name directly, his tone calm and mild, but the words were forceful and direct. “Chen Wan, when I play, I play to win.”
In that instant, Chen Wan seemed to return to the summer ten years ago, when he was still inside Little Olive Mountain.
He adapted smoothly, smiled faintly, and made a “please” gesture, gentlemanly, indulgent, and utterly assured. “Of course.”
When smart people became upper and lower hands, it was power joining power. Chen Wan and Zhao Shengge had at least eight hundred schemes between them, if not a thousand. In mutual understanding, they began slaughtering the table.
When they drew cards, their fingertips occasionally brushed as if by accident. Like an electric current passing through—one instant, then each withdrew.
Playing cards seemed almost like flirting. They predicted each other, one chasing while the other followed, feinting and killing on the counter, covering for each other until the bystanders were envious enough to sigh that they matched flawlessly, that they were naturally one family.
Chen Wan absolutely did not dare accept such praise. Who in Hai City dared say he and Zhao Shengge were one family? He politely humbled himself, saying that Mr. Zhao was generous and he had only borrowed some luck to share a spoonful of soup.
The others at the card table were red-eyed with envy. Only Chen Wan smiled bitterly to himself. Zhao Shengge’s bank was not so easy to follow. His mind was impossible to read, and his card play had an evil bent. When he went mad, he even ate his own side’s cards.
In any case, he had plenty of chips. He did not care at all about one or two insignificant pawns.
Zhao Shengge himself was enjoying it. The one suffering was Chen Wan. Without hard enough nerves, no one could catch his cards.
Zhao Shengge was a wicked person. He had never been able to grasp Chen Wan’s pattern, so he did not want Chen Wan to grasp his.
Was Chen Wan not flawless? Then Zhao Shengge would beat him until he was covered in openings.
When Chen Wan was about to have his card eaten by the next player, Zhao Shengge would appear like a saving Buddha, like a sly cat teasing a mouse. Advance or retreat, lose or win, live or die—everything depended on his will.
By the later rounds, Chen Wan felt his brain cells were almost no longer enough. But he also felt it was very worth it, because he sensed that Zhao Shengge was having quite a good time.
With two hands of cards, Zhao Shengge took the land for Jiaoxi Tower in one and demanded Shengtian Di’s building in another.
The faces of the people opposite them were already looking bad. Chen Wan wanted to laugh so badly.
Following Zhao Shengge’s bank truly burned the brain, but the thrill was real too. It was the spark and lightning of thought moving at high speed, the satisfaction of open spears and hidden arrows exchanged before they became each other’s powerful backing, the exhilarating pleasure of meeting a worthy opponent, going point for point, and then turning outward together against everyone else. After the adrenaline surged, the sheer, dripping release of it almost gave Chen Wan a cerebral climax.
The deeper the night became, the deeper the ship sailed into the sea.
Zhao Shengge held a cigarette between his teeth, unlit. He lowered his eyes to glance over his newly dealt hand, casually pulled out a spade, and Chen Wan, sharp-eyed and swift, fed him an ace of diamonds. Before the next player could even calculate, Zhao Shengge stepped directly onto the bridge Chen Wan had laid and handed over a queen, saying to that person in an extremely polite tone, “I want Qiongxi Manor.”
He was so courteous, as if he were discussing it with him.
The opposing player’s face changed at once—it was the same person who had just tried to make Chen Wan take off his watch.
He looked miserable, hesitating over whether to burn the boats and throw out his hole card, so Chen Wan immediately released the biggest card left in his own hand, the king of clubs, to hold down the king and cooperate with Zhao Shengge’s flush.
What Zhao Shengge wanted, Chen Wan would fight for with all his strength.
The two of them each played their own cards without looking at each other, without communicating. Each performed his duty, each guarded his position. Blades rose and fell. They were vicious spirits at the gambling table, murdering for money.
At this point, the verdict was final.
With Zhao Shengge there, Chen Wan also won quite a lot once he opened up his play. Naturally, the watch remained obediently settled on his wrist.
Someone jokingly tested the waters, saying he would trade Chen Wan a shopfront at Wangchun Cape Trading House for it. Chen Wan smoothly declined.
The shopfront was not large, and the location could not be considered especially good, but Zhao Shengge had built the momentum and won it in the previous round. The cards had happened to land with Chen Wan, so it belonged to him.
Although Zhao Shengge had only done it in passing, without any intent, Chen Wan planned to arbitrarily treat it as something Zhao Shengge had given him.
The gambling table did not close until a little after one. Chen Wan had won a good deal, so he invited everyone to have late-night supper.
Zhuo Zhixuan went with him to place the order and asked why he had not taken Zhao Shengge’s knight card in the final round.
When people like Zhao Shengge and Shen Zongnian played outside, they never put down knight cards.
“What a waste. Do you know how many people were staring until their eyes went straight?”
The knight card was a custom in pleasure venues. Whoever received someone’s knight card could make a request of that person.
This was the exchange of favors in the business world. Casinos also valued credibility and sentiment. Many people’s collaborations were struck at the card table. It was the same logic as drinking-table culture.
Chen Wan shook his head. “It wouldn’t have been appropriate.”
Too ambiguous.
Knight cards also had distinctions. The one left at the end had been the king of hearts. Anyone who played outside understood. It was a card casino girls often used, and it carried more or less a sexual implication. It was inappropriate.
Taking ten thousand steps back, if it landed on him, it would also look as if he were climbing up the pole to build a connection.
Zhuo Zhixuan rolled his eyes. “You’re thinking too much. Zhao Shengge wouldn’t take it seriously at all.”
They had played plenty of these games outside. If one really had to calculate every single thing clearly, there would be no end to it. Besides, all these business-world conventions existed precisely to tug favors back and forth. Drinking-table culture, card-table culture—it was all the same. Zhuo Zhixuan had been steeped in officialdom since childhood and understood this thoroughly. Tan Youming and Zhao Shengge understood it even more.
“But I would take it seriously.” Chen Wan stopped, turned to look at him, his calm eyes carrying a dark, obsessive edge. “I don’t mean it that way.”
“And I don’t do ambiguity.”
Chen Wan was very firm. He patted Zhuo Zhixuan’s shoulder and gave an example that was not especially appropriate and was also fundamentally impossible, just to show his determination. “Even if I were someone’s fuck buddy, I still wouldn’t do ambiguity.” He did not know whether saying it this way would help Zhuo Zhixuan understand.
Zhuo Zhixuan: “……”
“Haven’t you always thought there was something wrong with my head?” That was why Monica had come to his side.
Chen Wan did not want the relationship between him and Zhao Shengge to involve feelings beyond ordinary friendship. A patient could not control himself. It was hard to say what he might do.
If he really crossed the line and opened that door, he would absolutely, absolutely never let Zhao Shengge go, whether Zhao Shengge loved him or not.
Zhuo Zhixuan looked at his calm expression, and a chill rose along his back.
But he also felt this was an excuse. “How is it that mysterious? Monica said your condition isn’t impossible if you cooperate properly with treatment. You’re just—”
Chen Wan shook his head again, telling him not to continue.
There was nothing to discuss about this.
“……”
Chen Wan was gentle to everyone else. Only toward himself was he cruel. He looked easy to talk to, but he had his own unwavering creed for secret love and his own principles for conduct, and they could not be broken.
Zhuo Zhixuan had grown up in this circle. There had simply never been anyone like this around him.
The most extreme obsession was not going mad at the person one loved. It was restraint and reason imposed upon one’s own words and actions beyond the limits of desire, and also a nearly self-torturing coexistence with all the pain of wanting what one could not have.
But Chen Wan had always been internally consistent. He knew exactly what he wanted.
What he wanted was not Zhao Shengge’s love.
Author’s Note:
“Fuck, so damn beautiful”: the “fuck” here isn’t internet slang. It’s dialect, and it carries a lot of force.