The night was as dark as ink. The clock hand moved precisely past eight in the evening.
Rong Yichen casually tucked his moonlight-silver hair beneath a black baseball cap, pulling the brim low enough to hide his eyes and the alluring beauty mark at the corner of his left eye. He changed into a sharply tailored black casual outfit, rolled the sleeves to his forearms, and revealed their smooth, fair skin.
He started the BYD An Lan had brought him. The engine purred like a sigh, and the car slipped silently into traffic, heading toward Nightglow Club.
Rong Yichen parked in the shadows by the club’s side entrance. With his hands in his pockets, he leaned against the car door and expressionlessly counted the people coming and going. Neon lights flickered across his face, lending a hint of coldness to his otherwise obedient-looking features. Like a patient hunter, he lay in wait until half an hour later, when the club was at its busiest and the interwoven clamor and confusion had become a vast net. Only then did he get out and stroll inside.
His slender, pale fingertips touched his earpiece. H’s voice came through with a crackle of static. “The target just left the banquet hall. He’s heading to the top-floor suite, with two bodyguards.”
Rong Yichen replied with an almost inaudible “Mm.” His catlike eyes swiftly picked out the fire exit beside the elevator in the dim corridor. He knew the suite’s one-way glass faced the city’s most glittering nightscape—and that was where his hunt would take place.
He didn’t take the elevator. Instead, he climbed the fire-stairwell like a nimble cat, without a sound. Each step landed at the edge of the stairs, making no noise at all. When he reached the top floor, he took a thin access card from his pocket and swiped it over the suite’s sensor lock. A soft beep sounded, and the door opened a crack.
The room reeked of perfume and alcohol. A foreign man stood with his back to the door, by the floor-to-ceiling window, speaking on the phone. His voice was unabashedly lewd. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
Rong Yichen closed the door behind him. The click of the lock was swallowed by the traffic outside. He didn’t act at once, but strolled over to the bar and poured himself a glass of whisky. Ice clinked crisply against the glass, like the opening notes of Death’s approach.
At last, the man sensed something was wrong and whipped around. His startled expression had barely formed when Rong Yichen flung the doctored liquor in his hand straight into his face. A powerful numbness swept through the man’s nerves, trapping his cry for help in his throat.
“You…” His body slid limply toward the floor, terror and confusion filling his eyes.
Rong Yichen crouched and lightly brushed his fingertips over the man’s fear-distorted face. His voice was as calm as if he were discussing the weather. In English, he said slowly, “Your life’s been marked. I’m the one who’s here to end it.”
He took a thin, specially treated metal shard from his pocket—a kind of alloy that would dissolve in the body’s fluids within a short time. As the man watched in despair, Rong Yichen used the sharp shard to sever his carotid artery with precision while injecting a tiny, slow-release dose of poison into his vein.
The whole thing took less than ten seconds. There was no gruesome spray of blood, only a precision and coldness akin to surgery. The man’s pupils rapidly dilated. His body jerked twice, then fell completely still.
Rong Yichen stood and wiped his fingertips clean with a handkerchief, then dropped the mostly dissolved shard into the glass. He went to the floor-to-ceiling window, looked out at the still-bustling city below, took out his phone, and sent H two words: “Done.”
When everything was finished, he straightened his slightly rumpled jacket. Like a guest who had just come from a party, he walked past the bodyguard unconscious outside and left the top floor without changing expression. He went down a few floors, took the elevator to the first floor, and became once again an ordinary young man in a black baseball cap, hands in his pockets. Just as he was heading for the club’s entrance, a group of police officers came in.
Rong Yichen was stopped, looking utterly innocent.
The police officer addressed him in a matter-of-fact tone. “Sorry, sir. A serious murder just took place here. We’re asking all the guests to come to the station and cooperate with our investigation.”
Rong Yichen’s round eyes immediately took on a flustered look. He stammered, “W-what… what murder?”
Seeing his expression and his outfit, which didn’t fit the club’s atmosphere, the officer softened his voice. “It’s all right. Don’t be scared.”
He frowned at Rong Yichen. “You’re a student, right? What are you doing in a place like this?”
Rong Yichen was going to say that he’d been studying abroad and had just returned to the country, and was curious, so he’d come out to have some fun.
He had just worked out what to say, but before he could speak, a hand settled on his shoulder.
Surprised, he turned around. A woman with long black hair falling loose over her shoulders, dressed in a well-tailored black suit and wearing gold-rimmed glasses, smiled as she asked the police officer, “Officer Zhang, has my Little Brother done something wrong?”
When he saw who it was, Rong Yichen’s shoulders relaxed. Reassured, he pursed his lips and said nothing.
The officer immediately explained, “He looked a little frightened, so I was just trying to reassure him.”
Guan Xuanzhi smiled at Rong Yichen, her voice gentle. “Were you scared?”
Rong Yichen nodded.
Then, still wearing a poised smile, Guan Xuanzhi explained to the police, “My Little Brother just got back from abroad. I asked him to come out with me, but I couldn’t find him just now.”
Officer Zhang nodded to show he understood. “Then take your Little Brother with you, President Guan. Be careful.”
“Of course. Thank you, Officer.”
Guan Xuanzhi then tugged Rong Yichen by the sleeve and led him straight to a room she kept permanently booked at the club.
Rong Yichen leaned back on the sofa with one leg crossed over the other. “Sis, what are you doing here?”
Guan Xuanzhi took a carton of orange juice from the minibar and set it in front of him. “I’d just arrived at the club. I went to the restroom, and when I came back, I saw you standing in front of the police like a quail.”
Rong Yichen opened the juice, stuck in a straw, and praised her as he drank. “You really came through, Sis.”
Guan Xuanzhi smiled and sat on the small sofa. “So, what do you want to do—stay in the room, or come have dinner with me?”
Rong Yichen lightly tapped the juice carton with his fingertip as he thought.
Guan Xuanzhi spoke unhurriedly. “They won’t find anything on you either way.”
Rong Yichen was indeed hungry. He rubbed his stomach and asked, “Who’s going?”
“Not much of a crowd. I’m just discussing a small business deal with Huo Yan, the head of the Huo family.”
Rong Yichen set down his juice. “Then I’ll come have dinner with you.”
Guan Xuanzhi got up and checked her watch. “All right. Let’s go.”
.
As Rong Yichen followed Guan Xuanzhi to the private room, the instant she pushed the door open, he felt a calm, restrained gaze land on him with uncanny precision.
The man was seated, his dark, custom-tailored suit accentuating his broad, clean-cut shoulders. His cuffs were fastened neatly, except for one loosened button at his wrist, revealing a glimpse of pale bone. His long-fingered hand rested lightly beside the bone china plate at the edge of the table. His back was straight but not stiff—a poise born of years in a position of power.
His brows and eyes were dark and striking, his brow slightly furrowed, his gaze composed, his eyes as black as ink. His lips formed a firm, straight line, and an unshakable calm seemed to surround him. Even the light from the gently swaying chandelier seemed to slow as it fell across him.
His gaze first swept over Guan Xuanzhi, who had opened the door, then shifted almost at once and fixed precisely on Rong Yichen at her side. His eyelids lifted ever so slightly. A barely perceptible ripple disturbed the stillness in his dark eyes. The pad of one finger brushed unconsciously against the gold rim of the plate, and his otherwise relaxed fingertips curled faintly. That instinctive attentiveness beneath his composure was as faint as a wisp of tea fragrance from the corner of the table, yet it did not escape notice.
Rong Yichen caught that look at once.
He took his seat with Guan Xuanzhi.
The man gave Guan Xuanzhi a slight nod. “President Guan.”
Guan Xuanzhi smiled in greeting. “Huo Yan.”
Huo Yan’s gaze settled on Rong Yichen. His tone was casual. “President Guan’s new assistant?”
Guan Xuanzhi glanced at Rong Yichen and explained, “He’s a Little Brother I know. He was studying abroad and just returned, so I brought him out for some fun.”
She reached over and tapped Rong Yichen. “Say hello to Huo Yan.”
Rong Yichen nodded obediently. “Hello, Huo Yan. I’m Rong Yichen.”
Huo Yan narrowed his eyes slightly. “Huo Yan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”