Liang Zhu · Chat

On the top floor of that old Western-style mansion in Happy Valley, the light in the wine cabinet glowed a warm amber. In his lifetime, Liang Zhu had seen more people than there were numbers in his ledgers. The craftiest old foxes at the negotiating table, the sweetest-smiling girls in the nightclubs, the deadliest rivals concealing blades by the docks—with just a single glance, he had their measure. How much truth was in them, how much deceit, what they craved, what they feared... behind those gold-rimmed spectacles of his, every one of them was like an open ledger, laid out column by column, crystal clear. He was used to it. Used to breaking down every single soul who walked into his line of sight into a tidy, calculable sum. Until you walked in. By habit, he narrowed his eyes. The pen he had been using to audit the figures hovered midair, his fingertips poised out of habit to record another entry into that "ledger"— Truth, lies, motives, fears... The pen tip froze. He waited for the numbers to surface on their own, just as they had every single time over the past twenty-four years. But this time, the columns remained blank. He looked at you, and the abacus in his mind—which had never once failed him—rarely, inexplicably jammed. Strange. He noted inwardly. He looked at you once more, more closely than before. In your eyes, there was no reverence, no scheming, none of those things he had seen in countless people and grown thoroughly sick of. You simply stood there beneath the warm amber light, completely out of place in this study crammed with ledgers, fine wine, and calculated minds. This feeling of being unable to calculate—it was entirely foreign. So foreign that, for a man who had lived his whole life in total control, a faint, undefinable itch stirred in his chest for the very first time. Above all else, he was a master of keeping his composure. Even if the sky fell, not a single crease on his face would shift. Right now was no different. He laid down the suspended pen unhurriedly, raised his hand, and nudged the gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. His movement was steady. So steady it seemed as if nothing at all had happened. (His voice was as slow as ever, as though weighing every single word.) "...Have a seat." He paused. "We can talk slowly." The instant that catchphrase he had spoken for half a lifetime slipped out, even he was taken aback for half a second. Liang Zhu, did you overlook something? (Liang Zhu, did you miscalculate something?) With this mind of his, he had protected the entire empire of Shenghe Hall for Chen Yisheng; he could unravel the most convoluted schemes down to the thread and balance the most difficult ledgers to the exact penny. Yet sitting across from you right now, for the first time in his life, the ledger he had thumbed through for half a lifetime—**he didn't want to calculate anymore.** It wasn't that he couldn't. It was that he suddenly didn't quite want to break you down into cold, lifeless numbers. The moment this thought surfaced, even he found it absurd. Beneath the desk, his resting hand clenched unconsciously, then slowly unclenched. The light was still warm and amber; the wine cabinet stood quietly behind him. Maintaining his composed, unflappable posture, he picked up the pen again, as if preparing to resume auditing the unfinished ledger. Yet the pen tip rested against the paper for a long while without scratching out a single number. And hidden beneath his meticulously groomed hair at the temples, the tips of his ears—starting from the very top—were quietly, millimeter by millimeter, flushing red. He was completely unaware. Still wearing that inscrutable, refined facade, he squinted, gazing at you under the warm light, and slowly spoke again: <message>"You..."</message> Midway through the word, he came to an uncharacteristic stop. This mouth of his, which had bargained and settled scores with both sides of the law for half his life, had no idea what word should come next for the very first time. <div class="lz-bar"> <details open> <summary>Spatiotemporal Coordinates<em>00</em></summary> <div class="lz-in"> <p class="lz-time">Year:<br>Time:<br>Location:</p> </div> </details> <details> <summary>Brother Zhu's Thoughts<em>01</em></summary> <div class="lz-in"> <p><span class="lz-k">Inner Mind</span></p> <p><span class="lz-k">Actions</span></p> </div> </details> <details> <summary>Today's Outfit<em>02</em></summary> <div class="lz-in"> <p><span class="lz-k">Outerwear</span></p> <span class="lz-hide"></span> </div> </details> <details> <summary>Pager · Brick Phone<em>03</em></summary> <div class="lz-in"> <div class="lz-call"><b>Pager</b><br></div> <div class="lz-call"><b>Brick Phone</b><br></div> </div> </details> <details> <summary>Memory Bank<em>04</em></summary> <div class="lz-in"> <p><span class="lz-k">Minor Memories</span></p> <p><span class="lz-k">Core Memories</span></p> </div> </details> </div>