"I truly do want to…"
At the entrance of Chungking Mansions, all sorts of people were hawking and touting with small cards in hand. Stepping inside, the mingled smell of air conditioning and cheap perfume slammed into her—sticky, humid, and clogging her nostrils.
Both sides were crammed with tiny grid-like shops, filled with English or Cantonese spoken in Southeast Asian accents, or tribal languages from somewhere in Africa. Foreign men leaning against the counters behind stared at every passerby with hawk-like eyes.
He Cheng accidentally met their gaze and, startled, immediately averted her eyes. The foreigners here had a predatory look in their eyes that was somewhat frightening.
The hotel was on the 8th floor of Block C. They wandered around for a while before finding the way to the elevator.
As soon as they stepped out of the elevator, a powerful stench hit them in the face.
The front desk was empty.
Uncle Bing set Ye Yanzhi down on a single-seater sofa and sat on the armrest, panting heavily, drenched in sweat. Carrying someone on his back was no easy task.
He Cheng turned on her phone, which had only 5% battery left, and called the hotel's number. The person on the other end was presumably Southeast Asian, speaking Mandarin with a thick accent.
He Cheng said a few key words, and her phone died and shut down.
She was worried that Zong Xubai would be waiting downstairs too long, so she told Uncle Bing to head back first.
Uncle Bing said he would wait until she had settled Ye Yanzhi in, then go down together.
He Cheng felt both grateful and apologetic toward Uncle Bing. Hearing him say that, her heart tightened, and she lowered her eyes, clutching her phone. Perhaps because Uncle Bing had such a kind face, or perhaps because he had always been by Zong Xubai's side and must know him well, she couldn't help but speak up.
"Uncle Bing, I'd like to ask…"
Uncle Bing waited for her to continue. She mulled it over for a long while, carefully weighing her words. "Does he… often treat girls like this?"
Who "he" referred to was clear to both of them. Uncle Bing felt wronged on behalf of his young master—for the first time ever.
Perhaps it was because he had no experience pursuing girls, so he didn't know his own strength, and his words were even more shocking. Even Uncle Bing, who had been by his side for decades, had his jaw drop at his actions and words tonight.
Since reaching adulthood, Zong Xubai had lived a life of restraint and detachment. Though he was courteous and gentlemanly toward ladies, that was merely the refinement of his good upbringing. Something like forcibly pulling a woman onto his lap, letting her clutch his clothes, and saying those kinds of things—that had never been seen before.
Gentlemanly? It was practically a disgrace to civility.
"Truly, I'm not just saying good things about Zong Sheng. All these years, his heart has been devoted solely to work—his romantic experience is zero. I never expected he would come to his senses with you. You don't need to be too afraid. Since he likes you, he won't do anything out of line."
Uncle Bing's last words were spoken with some guilt. Who knew, really? Before today, he had thought he understood Zong Xubai well. Now it seemed there were areas he had never known about.
He was worried for He Cheng.
He Cheng stared at the pitch-black phone screen, at a loss for words.
She couldn't quite accept what they were saying.
Just then, a young Southeast Asian man covered head to toe in gold jewelry walked in. Communicating in a mix of English and Mandarin, he confirmed they only needed a single room and told them to sit and wait.
He went into a room, stayed inside for a few minutes, then let them in.
The room was extremely cramped—only a single bed and a bathroom, barely enough space for one person to turn around.
The smell, however, was overwhelming.
Uncle Bing gagged the moment he carried the person in.
Even He Cheng, who had grown up in less-than-ideal living conditions, frowned and covered her mouth.
This environment was terrible—not even worth 50 bucks.
Uncle Bing asked if she really wanted to stay here.
She nodded, completely certain.
The smell was something she could get used to, and besides, Ye Yanzhi was so drunk and drowsy she wouldn't smell anything.
And anyway, where else could she stay?
She certainly couldn't go beg Zong Xubai.
Uncle Bing couldn't change her mind, so he could only urge her to come downstairs with him and let him drive her back to school.
If Zong Xubai hadn't said those things to her, she would have troubled them to take her back to school. But now, she just wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. Using the excuse that she needed to stay and take care of Ye Yanzhi, she politely declined Uncle Bing's offer.
There was nothing he could do.
Uncle Bing couldn't persuade her, so he could only tell her to be careful and protect herself.
After Uncle Bing left, He Cheng closed the door and rummaged through her bag for a phone charging cable.
She didn't have a power bank. Ye Yanzhi had brought one, but since they had been filming and recording videos all day, it had died by the afternoon.
The socket panel didn't match her charging cable. She went to the front desk and happened to catch the owner about to head out. He gave her an adapter.
Just then, a drunk foreign man came back, greeting the owner with a grin, his lecherous gaze lingering on He Cheng. She broke out in goosebumps under his stare. As she turned to leave, the man suddenly grabbed her arm, babbling in a language she couldn't understand, his lecherousness and the stench of alcohol hitting her face at once.
She screamed in fright and tried to wrench her arm free, but couldn't.
The owner beside her said something, placing a hand on the Indian man's arm, and the man let go.
He Cheng fled.
Back in the room, she slammed the door shut.
Her heart was pounding wildly.
Looking at Ye Yanzhi lying motionless on the bed, the grievance in her heart overflowed to the brim. She truly had no idea what kind of liquor he'd been drinking to end up this drunk—she'd believe it if someone said it was knockout drops.
After steadying her mood, He Cheng plugged her phone in to charge and sat on the edge of the bed for a while, wondering whether she should wash Ye Yanzhi's face before heading back to school. She stood up and was about to check the bathroom when a sudden pounding came at the door.
Bang after bang, as if someone were trying to smash the door to pieces.
He Cheng's heart shot up into her throat.
She recognized the man from earlier, and he was muttering in a language she couldn't understand.
She froze in place, not daring to move.
A suffocating sensation gripped her throat, as if someone had their hands around it.
The wooden door thudded violently. The latch was a crude horizontal metal bar, flimsily wedged between the doorframe and the door panel. With every impact, it shuddered violently, groaning as if on the verge of snapping, as though the next second it would be completely battered down.
He Cheng clutched the hem of her clothes, trembling as she picked up her phone and powered it on. Just as she was about to dial 199, the pounding outside stopped.
In its place came the man's screams and the dull, rhythmic thuds of something slamming against the wall.
He Cheng paused, realizing someone had stopped the man.
The two mixed sounds lasted for over ten seconds before going silent.
Then, suddenly, a familiar voice sounded from outside.
"He Cheng."
"It's me. Open the door."
The low, husky voice carried a deep intake of breath.
He Cheng's heart slammed back down into place.
It was Zong Xubai.
It was like she'd been running alone and helpless through a dark forest—feet aching, breath ragged, on the verge of suffocating to death—when she looked up and found she'd run out of the woods, and the sky was bright with daylight.
Human emotions are always complex and changeable.
Though Zong Xubai's words from over ten minutes ago had filled He Cheng with pressure and shock, now, separated by a door, his voice inexplicably put her at ease.
Whether to open the door—she hesitated.
This place was cramped, filthy, and shabby. It wasn't a place Zong Xubai should be.
If he'd come here, his purpose could only be her.
She glanced back at Ye Yanzhi, whose face was flushed red. Biting her lip, she gripped the ice-cold latch, slid it open, and slowly pushed the door inward to create a crack.
The gap widened gradually, and cold air rushed in first, sweeping across her skin.
A figure in white burst into her field of vision.
Zong Xubai's open shirt front was wrinkled beyond recognition, hanging loosely against his slightly heaving chest, as if he'd just finished some intense physical activity.
His tall, straight frame—usually so imposing—stood at the doorway, as tall as the door itself, nearly blocking out all the light from outside. Yet somehow, at this moment, he didn't feel oppressive or overbearing.
Though his expression was calm, a thin layer of menace lurked in his dark eyes. His pristine white clothes were stained with flecks of blood, scattered unevenly and blooming into blotches.
Strikingly conspicuous.
His long, jade-pale fingers hanging at his sides were also stained with fresh blood, droplets dripping onto the floor.
"There's blood." He Cheng's eyes went wide with alarm.
"It's not mine." The ferocity in Zong Xubai's eyes only softened slightly at those two words from her.
Seeing her face drained white with fright, his tone gentled. "Grab your things. I'll take you back to campus."
Relieved to learn the blood wasn't his, He Cheng let out a breath and clutched at her clothes. "Yanzhi is still here…"
The rest of the sentence went unspoken.
Zong Xubai looked past her, casting his gaze down at the man passed out drunk on the single bed. He let out a breath of exasperated laughter, then shifted his teasing gaze to her face, as if weighing something.
After a long moment, he leisurely let out a few light words. "He Cheng."
"Are you treating me as your boyfriend to lean on now?"
He Cheng froze, meeting his intrigued gaze. A smile curled at the corners of his eyes, and a lingering, teasing amusement crept across her face as he drawled, "You need to give me a title."
"I can't help you without things being clear."
What was he saying! In a situation like this, he could still shamelessly flirt with her and take advantage of her without batting an eye.
She had no doubt that if she proposed something like, "If you personally carry Ye Yanzhi downstairs, you can be my lover," he'd agree to it on the spot.
She'd already made herself perfectly clear. She couldn't break up with Ye Yanzhi, and she couldn't cheat.
A surge of anger welled up in He Cheng. On reflex, she grabbed the doorframe to shut him out, but his tall frame stepped forward a few paces and ducked into the room.
She could only grip the doorframe with one hand while pushing against his chest with the other.
Her strength was useless against him. Her small palm pressed against him through the thin fabric of his clothes, the warmth of her hand slowly spreading across his skin, as if she could feel his heartbeat.
He deliberately stepped forward again, and at this distance, it was as if he were holding her in his embrace.
He looked down at her frowning face. If his hands weren't stained with blood, he truly wanted to grab her wrist.
He Cheng realized the disparity in strength between men and women—and besides, he was deliberately pressing into her space. She suddenly released her hand. He hadn't expected her to pull away, and his body didn't stop in time, springing forward like a coil and toppling toward her.
Startled by his sudden lurch, she stumbled backward.
Seeing her about to fall against the cold, hard wall, Zong Xubai extended his clean left hand and pressed it against the wall first, and the back of her head landed against his warm palm a moment later.
The warm, solid sensation at the back of her head made He Cheng look up, meeting a pair of calm, unruffled dark eyes.
She hadn't expected that his palm would arrive before the collision.
But this outcome was also because he had suddenly leaned in, startling her—she couldn't bring herself to say thank you or sorry.
She bent her legs, slipped out from under his raised arm, and squeezed herself by the bathroom door.
The already cramped room became even more impossible to move around in with his arrival.
She said nervously, "You can go back now."
The bright, glaring light spread from overhead, casting shadows from Zong Xubai's long lashes onto his eyelids, his thoughts inscrutable.
He swallowed, his shoe tips pointing toward her as he closed the distance in one step. "Could I just leave you here? Move aside, I need to wash my hands."
His jade-like right hand was covered in shocking red, the dripping blood nearly dried. She averted her gaze.
The room was too narrow—to avoid touching him, she had to sidestep past him and yield the bathroom to him.
He turned on the showerhead, rinsing his arm, his gaze coldly fixed on the red blood flowing toward the floor, as if staring at a pile of garbage.
Since he was cleaning the blood off his hands, his tall figure stood lazily, not quite upright, his slightly hunched back arching his shirt, his suit trousers hugging his long legs.
He effortlessly displayed the aesthetic lines of a refined, rakish male figure.
He Cheng's gaze shifted to Ye Yanzhi.
The room fell silent except for the sound of rushing water.
It was then that Uncle Bing returned.
When the man had been pounding on the door, Zong Xubai had just come up. Learning that He Cheng was inside, a rare hint of ruthlessness flickered in his dark eyes. Without a word, he grabbed the man by the back of the neck and slammed his head against the white wall beside them.
The white wall instantly bore a horrifying bloodstain.
The man was drunk, his strength greatly diminished—and besides, Zong Xubai's daily morning training intensity was beyond what most could match. He could bench press 150kg without breaking a sweat; dealing with a mere drunkard was more than manageable.
The man's forehead was bleeding heavily. When Uncle Bing reminded him, Zong Xubai switched to slamming the side of his face instead, and kept pressing him against the wall, grinding the fresh wounds, drawing agonized screams from the man.
The commotion drew curious glances from nearby travelers.
Most of the residents here were Middle Eastern, accustomed to such scenes—they wouldn't step in to mediate, only watch the spectacle from a distance.
It wasn't until the man knelt on the ground, begging for mercy, that Zong Xubai finally stopped. His white pants were streaked with bloodstains, and he frowned in extreme displeasure. Uncle Bing knew he disliked being touched by others, and loathed filthy things like this even more. He dragged the man aside to handle the aftermath, out of sight and out of mind, having hospital staff come by for a token check.
They couldn't afford a death on their hands either.
In the fully exposed room, the atmosphere among the three was awkward. Uncle Bing stood at the door, unsure what to say. The place reeked of a pungent mix of foot odor and curry, assaulting the senses—he felt nauseous enough to vomit, yet his young master, raised in luxury since childhood, remained expressionless.
Uncle Bing couldn't help but marvel that Zong Xubai truly lived up to his intention of being a third party—so capable of enduring.
Just as he breathed a sigh of relief, the next second, he heard retching from inside.
Uncle Bing looked in—Zong Xubai, who had held back until now, finally couldn't take it anymore, vomiting bile into the toilet.
He Cheng listened with her heart pounding, genuinely afraid he might throw up his intestines. This really wasn't a place for him; he might never have suffered like this in his entire life.
She felt somewhat guilty.
Without turning his head, Zong Xubai instructed, "Uncle Bing, get Ye Yanzhi back to the car."
"No need." He Cheng refused bluntly.
She still remembered what he'd said earlier—choose between treating him as a boyfriend or as a third. She wanted neither.
This kind of deal, she wouldn't make.
After finishing vomiting, Zong Xubai unhurriedly turned on the tap to wash his hands. "Can't even be a great philanthropist with nothing better to do?"
The implication was that he didn't want the title of boyfriend—he just wanted to be a great philanthropist.
He Cheng clenched her fists but said nothing.
Uncle Bing asked her to help support Ye Yanzhi, then carried him on his back and hurriedly left. This place—he couldn't stand another second in it.
Zong Xubai clearly felt the same, telling He Cheng to grab her things and head down.
He Cheng walked out of the room and was startled by the mottled bloodstains on the wall and floor. It was hard to imagine how that tall, burly man had been subdued and ground into the wall by Zong Xubai, whose muscles weren't even visibly defined.
Behind her, Zong Xubai's handsome, frowning face came into view. He had just vomited, his complexion pale in an unhealthy way, his lips red and cold, tinged with a languid dampness—possessing a kind of sickly, fractured beauty. The corners of his eyes beneath his glasses were slightly red, and when he looked at her, there was a delicate, pitiable softness about him.
Meeting his gaze, He Cheng immediately turned her head back and hurried away.
The back row still held three people.
This time, Zong Xubai sat in the middle, separating the two of them.
Having been inside that place, she seemed to have picked up the stench. He Cheng sniffed herself and realized it was all in her head.
She sighed softly.
Today had truly been an earth-shattering day.
She discreetly observed Zong Xubai. He seemed not to have fully recovered, his complexion less than good, brows furrowed and tense, the tip of his nose and corners of his eyes both red.
He really did look like he'd been overwhelmed by the stench. He had no mood to tease her either.
The car drove onto Salisbury Road and stopped in front of No. 18, the Rosewood Hotel.
The signage of the Rosewood Hotel came into view outside the window, and He Cheng took a deep breath.
She knew this hotel.
Last week while scrolling through her social media feed, a high school classmate who was visiting Hong Kong had posted a nine-grid photo set by the floor-to-ceiling window with a sea view at the Rosewood Hotel—selfies and shots taken by others alike, every single one beautiful and polished, with long legs pale and striking.
The caption read: "No wonder it's ranked the number one hotel in the world—the window view is absolutely stunning. I have to say, the top-tier Old Money aesthetic is something else."
Later that night, she posted another nine-grid set of photos in a bikini posing at the infinity pool on the 40th floor, with the caption: "The infinity pool at Rosewood is so photogenic. The Victoria Harbour view, ranked among the world's top three nightscapes, is just breathtaking."
This high school classmate of He Cheng's was the daughter of the deputy director of the county education bureau. She was pretty and sociable. While others buried their heads in their books during high school, she wore her school uniform and filmed no-makeup videos to upload to platforms. With her innocent-looking face, she gained a bit of fame, caught the wave of self-media, and became a minor internet influencer. Now she was attending an ordinary second-tier university in Huacheng.
Lu Qi happened to see that social media post beside her and felt a bit disgruntled. She had been in Hong Kong for over a year, and every time she shot the Victoria Harbour night view, she either hiked up to Victoria Peak or stood on the Avenue of Stars—while this girl effortlessly produced stunning photos from the top-ranked hotel on the world's 50 best hotels list.
She clicked her tongue and remarked that this female classmate's education bureau deputy director father must have embezzled a lot for his daughter to live such an indulgent life.
When she had money, she would also check in at the Rosewood Hotel by the sea-view window, shoot a full 100GB of photos, have that impossibly hard-to-reserve Butterfly Room dessert shop deliver their viral taro cake to the room as afternoon tea, go downstairs to K11 for a luxury shopping spree in the afternoon, and then hit the Asia's top 50 bar, Darkside, at night.
How expensive a stay at the Rosewood Hotel was, He Cheng didn't need to look up to know.
"Uncle Bing, let's just find some random inn…"
"Don't bother running around at this hour," Uncle Bing said. "Hong Kong is small, and it's peak tourist season now with plenty of visitors. Any decent hotel nearby is bound to be fully booked. Even if you went door to door, you might not find a vacancy. Just settle in here comfortably—it's fine. Zong Sheng has a long-term suite here."
The hotel doorman had already come to open the car door. Seeing that someone was asleep inside, he was sharp enough to call over a colleague, and together they carried Ye Yanzhi out of the car.
Zong Xubai, who had been resting with his eyes closed the whole ride, lifted his eyelids. His brow was like an unfurling dense fog, and he said coldly in Cantonese, "Scrap this car."
It could have been salvaged with a wash, or sent back to the factory to replace the seats.
But since the owner said to throw it away, Uncle Bing naturally just said yes.
Two doormen in uniform pulled open the glass doors from inside. As they entered the hotel, the delicate fragrance of white tea brushed past their faces. What met their eyes was Italian travertine stone and dark oak paneling, with brass inlays on the floor, while a crystalline art installation hanging from the center of the ceiling subtly interwove with the shimmering waves of the harbor outside the window.
The lobby was quiet and elegant—the complete opposite of Chungking Mansions.
The lobby manager spotted Zong Xubai from afar and immediately came out to greet him, chatting amiably in Cantonese with a warm smile, clearly well acquainted.
Noticing that Zong Xubai was rubbing his forehead, seemingly in a bad mood, and that his gaze kept drifting to the girl walking ahead.
He considerately asked, "Would you like an extra cake or dessert today?"
Zong Xubai paused for a moment, then added a turndown service for the room.
The manager raised an eyebrow slightly at that. Zong Xubai never asked for such things—he only ever required the room to be cleaned.
The top floor, private elevator entry, Loro Piana cashmere wall coverings, a living room so absurdly large it made He Cheng realize this was no ordinary room.
When they'd discussed the daughter of the public security bureau deputy director that day, Lu Qi had mentioned that the Rosewood Hotel had a Rosewood Mansion, offering several top-floor duplex two-bedroom suites that weren't visible on regular booking platforms, available for short-term or long-term rental.
Rumor had it there was a Harbour Villa suite at 880,000 Hong Kong dollars per night, occupying an entire floor exclusively.
The mansion residences came with a washer-dryer combo, kitchen, living room, meeting room, dining room, study, gym, and master bedroom with guest rooms—essentially a full home.
She looked around and guessed this was that so-called Harbour Villa suite.
Her heart was bleeding.
If this really cost 880,000 Hong Kong dollars a night, how long would she have to pay off a single night's stay?
Just as she was wallowing in distress, she caught sight of Zong Xubai in her peripheral vision, following closely behind. He walked silently, yet his presence weighed heavily on He Cheng. Why did he have to come up too? Ye Yanzhi was drunk, and this was his territory—if he really tried something with her, she might not be able to fend him off.
If she'd known he would follow them up, she should have firmly chosen a cheap inn just now.
The doorman ahead carried Ye Yanzhi into a room, laid him on the bed, and left politely.
He Cheng entered the room and placed his backpack on the nightstand. Seeing that his face was still flushed, she leaned down worriedly and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. Not hot—he was probably just drunk.
She let out a sigh of relief. After a whole night of chaos, at least there was finally a place to settle him.
She looked up and met a pair of dark, deep, brooding eyes.
Zong Xubai leaned lazily against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. "Pick a room for yourself."
He Cheng blurted out, "I'm going back to school."
Zong Xubai stared at her wary dark eyes, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. He tilted his head, seeming somewhat puzzled. "Are you that comfortable leaving Ye Yanzhi in my hands?"
"…"
"Otherwise, what, are you going to throw him into the sea to feed the fish?"
That's what she thought, but she couldn't really bring herself to leave Ye Yanzhi here and walk away. She steeled herself—after all, she'd have to pay him back eventually anyway, so she'd just pay at the rate of a regular double bed.
The door wasn't small by any means, but Zong Xubai leaning there made the space feel cramped and suffocating. He Cheng straightened her back, the two of them facing off. He was nearly thirty centimeters taller than her, his gaze pressing down on her, inch by inch crushing her confidence.
The back of her neck felt desolate, like a vast glacier where nothing could grow.
She nervously twisted the hem of her clothes.
Zong Xubai moved toward her—he took two steps, she took one step back. Her eyes, pretending to be calm, reflected his handsome face. She didn't know why he was walking toward her. Her nerves were taut, her heartbeat thumping faster, until her heel hit the corner of the bed and her legs gave out, sending her tumbling onto the mattress, sinking a hollow into the soft white sheets.
He saw the fear in her eyes clearly, narrowed his own, and slowly bent down, blocking out the light entirely. His shadow fell over her, from the crown of her head to her shoulders, her bright face swallowed by darkness.
He arched his back, legs braced straight, his gaze landing on her pallid face, staring at those bloodless lips. Not long ago, those lips had been luscious and tempting, painted with soft pink lipstick. And before that, they had kissed Ye Yanzhi.
His eyes darkened with a murky gloom. He took a deep breath, catching a faint whiff of her scent, and lowered his voice: "He Cheng, are you afraid of me?"
"Why? Afraid I'll do something to you right in front of him?"
Such blunt words made He Cheng's head ring with a deafening roar, her thoughts scattering into chaos. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant hand, fear making her breathing ragged. His handsome face was now like a sharp blade, its icy edge pressed against her cheek.
She lowered her head in panic, using the top of her head to fend him off. The bedsheet was crumpled under her grip, her knuckles white, her gaze fixed on his neatly hanging white trousers.
Zong Xubai made no attempt to hide his desire, each word dropping like a stone: "I do want to kiss you."
Those few words made He Cheng's shoulders flinch. She hunched her back, barely daring to breathe, terrified he might actually kiss her.
He lowered his head a little more, leaning in just a fraction, his lips nearly brushing her forehead. "But I don't like taking advantage of someone in a vulnerable position."
"However, if you keep staying here with him, I can't guarantee I won't do something out of line."