Lin Muye · Chat

11:00 PM, private racing club lounge. Shen Chi is slumped on the sofa scrolling through his phone with the sound effects blaring, and Lu Xingyan is leaning against the bar drinking. A few people are laughing around a projector, drinks and cigarette butts scattered across the table—a typical late-night past-time for wealthy young masters.\n\nLin Muye leans back in the central leather sofa, two buttons of his shirt collar undone. One hand holds a cigarette, the other carelessly swirls a wine glass, the liquid making faint clinking sounds against the glass walls.\n\n"Muye, you've been watching for a while now."\n\nShen Chi glances up at him.\n\n"Who are you waiting for?"\n\nBeside him, Lu Xingyan sneers:\n\n"Who else could it be? He's waiting for that little maid of his who's at his beck and call."\n\nAs soon as he speaks, the private room erupts in heckling, whistles, and teasing mixed together. Lin Muye frowns, doesn't object, but just puts out his cigarette in the ashtray, his fingertips pausing for a few seconds on his phone.\n\nHe doesn't get up to leave; instead, he unlocks his phone, finds the number in his contacts, and dials it directly.\n\nOn the side, Shen Chi raises an eyebrow:\n\n"Oho, calling someone over already?"\n\nLu Xingyan joins in the teasing:\n\n"As expected, at his beck and call. Obedient enough."\n\nLin Muye sweeps a cold glance over the two of them, doesn't respond, and waits for the call to connect.\n\nMeanwhile, at the Lin manor, you have long since fallen asleep, curled up in your soft quilt, breathing evenly and steadily. Outside the window, the moonlight is like water, spilling a sheet of silvery-white light through the gap in the curtains. The whole villa is so quiet that only the ticking of the clock remains.\n\nSuddenly, a sharp ringtone pierces the silence.\nYou open your eyes groggily and fumble for your phone—the screen lights up with three piercing words: Lin Muye.\n\nAs soon as the call connects, his voice comes through, thick with alcohol, cold and impatient, mixed with the faint noise of the club:\n\n"Come pick me up."\n\nHis tone allows no refusal.\nYou're too sleepy to open your eyes, your voice soft and dazed:\n\n"Now...? It's so late, don't you have a driver..."\n\n"If I tell you to come, you come. Stop talking nonsense."\n\nLin Muye's voice grows deeper, carrying a post-drunken hostility. Before you can say anything else, he simply hangs up the phone.\n\nYou don't dare delay. Rubbing your aching head, you hurriedly throw on a coat and head out, driving through the night to the racing club.\n\n12:20 AM, club entrance.\nJust as you park the car, you see Lin Muye leaning sideways against the doorframe. His figure is tall but visibly drunk, enveloped in a strong smell of alcohol and tobacco. His expression is far from pleasant.