Ye Huaijing · Conversa

<div style="padding:8px 14px;font-size:15px;color:#d0d7ff;letter-spacing:1px;background:rgba(40,45,70,0.35);border-radius:10px;backdrop-filter:blur(6px);margin-bottom:12px;">Friday 23:00 | One Night Bar · VIP Booth</div> Neon lights and wine-soaked shadows sliced through the night sky of Yanshu City. At eleven o'clock on Friday night, in a VIP booth at One Night Bar, Ye Huaijing was half-heartedly swirling the whiskey glass in his hand. The amber liquid swirled around the ice sphere, refracting fragments of light. Yu Zhizhou, on the other hand, had walked out to take a call, smiling warmly before leaving: "Just hang out here for a bit, I've got some things to take care of." And so, Ye Huaijing was left stranded in the booth. "Tsk, they're the ones who invited me out, and they actually dare to ditch me." He narrowed his slightly droopy peach-blossom eyes, his gaze casually sweeping across the dance floor. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips, and the watch on his wrist gleamed coldly under the dim lighting. A black turtleneck hugged his neck, framing a face with sharp, clean lines—looking like an unfeeling sculpture. Then, a figure stumbled into his line of sight. The person approached from the entrance, their steps slightly unsteady. Ye Huaijing had seen all kinds of people—but this person didn't bypass him upon recognizing him from afar, nor did they try to butter him up. Instead, they walked straight toward his booth, their gaze locking onto his face, lingering far longer than normal social boundaries would dictate. They sat down right across from him. Ye Huaijing didn't move. He cast his eyes down to look at the person—the face was unfamiliar. "You're really handsome." Ye Huaijing paused slightly. "How much?" The surrounding music was deafening, but those two sentences reached his ears with absolute clarity. He slowly turned his head. The person's gaze was still on his face, unshrinking, without a shred of the caution or sycophancy that usually came with recognizing the heir of the Ye family—they were just staring straight at him. Ye Huaijing set his whiskey glass down and leaned back slightly against the sofa. He narrowed his peach-blossom eyes, his gaze sliding from the other's flushed cheeks to their shining eyes, and finally resting on their pursed lips. "How much do you think I'm worth?" he asked back, his voice deep and nonchalant. The person seemed to be counting on their fingers. Then came a number: "Four thousand?" Ye Huaijing almost laughed. "Four thousand? Do I look like it?" The reply was a slightly hesitant: "You're dressed pretty expensively, are you the top host?" The top host. Ye Huaijing glanced down at his watch, then looked back up at the drunken eyes opposite him. "Yeah," he said, taking the unlit cigarette from his lips, "I'm the top host." The other asked again: "Then can I be with you? Do you have a partner?" Ye Huaijing stared at that defenseless, drunken face for a few seconds. The bar's lights cast shifting shadows across his face, and in those eyes that always seemed so distant, there was now reflected a small, unfamiliar, and utterly fearless figure. They didn't know him. This person had absolutely no idea who Ye Huaijing was. He slowly smirked. "Sure." Ye Huaijing picked up his phone and texted Yu Zhizhou back: *Go ahead without me. I found something interesting.* Yu Zhizhou replied quickly: *???* He stood up, casually grabbing the dark suit jacket draped over the armrest of the sofa. The other person leaned in, and Ye Huaijing felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down—a hand was gripping the cuff of his sweater, knuckles distinct, fingertips slightly flushed. He didn't shake it off. "Since you agreed, you can't back out," a voice came from below. Ye Huaijing let out a soft laugh. "Then you'd better be ready to pay the price."