Daian closed her eyes, savoring the comfort radiating from the heat beneath her. A slight smile touched her lips as she picked up the champagne beside her, took a small sip, and let out a soft murmur of contentment. Then, she opened her eyes and asked deliberately, unhurried.
"Sister Hua, what's this Young Master Angwei like? Did N give any hints?"
Hearing she was safe, Sister Hua let out a long sigh of relief, her voice noticeably more relaxed.
"Didn't I tell you before? There's not much intel on this young master in the pleasure quarters, nowhere near as much as on his parents. He only came back from abroad two years ago, keeps to himself, rarely shows his face. There's no trace of him in any of the major nightclubs. Seems like a cautious one. Or maybe he just doesn't like playing with women—Thailand's got plenty of ladyboys and gays. Maybe he prefers men. Bottom line, this target is hard to get close to."
Sister Hua clicked her tongue twice.
Daian reached out, scooped up a handful of water, then turned her palm down and let it all stream out. She watched the crystal-clear water flow through her fingers, silent.
Sister Hua seemed to recall something else, heaving another long sigh. Her tone suddenly turned serious.
"I warned you ages ago, this man is dangerous, no less so than his old man. Since he came back two years ago, the situation between Seahold and the Siam Syndicate has gotten very volatile, and he's the driving force behind it. His ambitions are big. Street rumors say his father intends to shift focus to legitimate business in the next couple of years, and deliberately brought his only son back from Italy to take over the... darker dealings. Don't underestimate Chen Angwei just because he's young. He's the seed cultivated by Chen Dan and Nira Nguyen. His methods and ruthlessness are beyond imagining."
Sister Hua's voice shifted again, muttering, "I haven't slept well these past couple of days. My right eyelid keeps twitching. I'm worried about you."
"That's just menopause," Daian joked, cutting her off.
Listening to Sister Hua's words felt like icy gusts pouring into Daian's ears. Suddenly, her nose tickled, and she let out a huge sneeze.
"What's that? That sneeze! Scared stiff? If your legs go weak, you get your ass back to Hong Kong immediately. With your looks, we'll find you some chaebol heir or scion, live a stable life," Sister Hua teased.
Daian grabbed a tissue and wiped her nose, responding offhandedly, "Just soaked in the pond too long tonight, maybe caught a chill."
Only then did Sister Hua realize what she'd forgotten. "Right, how'd it go tonight? Did the fish bite?"
"So-so. Just cast a hook. Whether the fish bites was up to fate." Daian blew her nose, recalling the figure that had charged out of the darkness a few steps away. She couldn't quite get a read on him.
Sister Hua didn't press further. After a long silence, she changed the subject. "Did you know? Ashleigh is dead."
Daian closed her eyes. "Hmm," she acknowledged, saying she'd seen it on the news earlier, as if discussing some unrelated piece of gossip.
Sister Hua's hesitant voice sounded like she was probing.
"She fell from the second floor of her mansion in Deep Water Bay half a year ago, cracking her head on a rockery. Dead. After Yu Meng died, all these years, not a peep from her. To see her again, it was in the news. She'd gone straight, latched onto the Deputy Financial Secretary of Hong Kong, even had a son with him. The police ruled it an accident. Guess she was just unlucky."
Listening to Sister Hua's account, Daian didn't respond. She only noticed the bathwater gradually cooling and felt a wave of drowsiness. She got up, took a shower, and wrapped herself in a towel. Unexpectedly, Sister Hua was still on the line.
"Daian," Sister Hua called out, hearing the movement.
"I'm here," Daian picked up the phone. Still wrapped in her towel, hair dripping wet, she leaned against the desk, lit a slim cigarette, and held it. As wisps of blue smoke curled upwards, she stared distractedly at the photos on the wall before her.
It was her network of connections: Nine-Faced Buddha, Nira Nguyen, Angwei, and key Siam Syndicate figures like Saichon and Desai.
Only the spot under Angwei's name was empty. To this day, information about him remains at zero.
She recalled those wolf-like eyes in the darkness and shivered involuntarily.
Sister Hua hesitated, then asked what she wanted to ask. "Daian... Ashleigh's case... does it have anything to do with you?"
Daian wrapped one arm around herself, brought the cigarette to her lips for a drag, then held it away. Staring at the blank spot, she narrowed her eyes and exhaled a lingering smoke ring. She casually picked up a dart beside her and threw it. It hit dead center, right on the name Angwei.
"Sister Hua, I remember saying that until my vengeance is complete, my hands won't be stained with blood."
"I believe you," Sister Hua replied firmly. She then reminded her to be careful of all things and promised to contact her immediately if N had any news.
After hanging up, Daian exhaled one last plume of smoke and stubbed out the cigarette in a crystal ashtray. Before getting into bed, she sneezed three times in a row.
Later that day, Daian got a chill. She took sick leave from school and rested at home for several days, lying in bed listless and miserable, shaky even when walking.
On the fourth day, struggling to get up, she received a call from an unknown number.
"Sister Hua," she said, touching her forehead, trying to steady herself.
"Daian, N sent word. Next Wednesday, there's an underground Muay Thai fight at the Sandalwood Palace in Sukhumvit. It's Seahold Group turf. Young Master Angwei supposedly likes watching Muay Thai, especially the underground kind, so he should be there. But N says this intel isn't guaranteed, just a shot in the dark. Got it?" Sister Hua warned her.
Daian nodded. "Got it."
She'd been in Thailand for half a year with little useful information. Yet in the past two weeks alone, there were suddenly two opportunities. She had to seize this chance no matter what. At least she had a few days to prepare.
On Wednesday evening, Daian arrived at the entrance of the Sandalwood Palace. Looking up, the famous Bangkok entertainment complex was staggeringly large, sprawling across five floors.
This was one of the key unofficial meeting spots for Thailand's political and business elite. It is no exaggeration to say throwing a brick here could hit countless high-ranking officials and tycoons.
A former Thai Minister of Justice had once been hauled out of a fourth-floor VIP room here, reportedly high out of his mind, still muttering the name of a male model. The very next day, massive amounts of ill-gotten gains were found in his suburban mansion, becoming a juicy piece of street gossip for a time.
Enough ostentation, enough deafening noise, perfectly masked the filthiest deals.
As the saying goes, the most dangerous place is often the safest. The old foxes knew this principle well. As long as the stone hadn't fallen on them, they flocked to it, heedless of the cautionary tales.
Men die for wealth, birds die for food. The lure of immense profits was simply too tempting, irresistible as they stepped deeper into the den of poison.
The Chan family expertly manipulated these dark, hidden desires within human nature to control the powerful officials and nobles. Within this vast, meticulously woven web of interests, Seahold Group, backed by Danpha, was clearly the biggest beneficiary and master.
Daian took a deep breath. The evening breeze from the Chao Phraya River, carrying a hint of coolness, stirred her hair. She caught the intoxicating scent of golden shower blossoms. Then, she stepped onto the stairs leading up to Sandalwood Palace.
Two young women in modernized Thai attire stood by the entrance, each holding a beautifully crafted jasmine garland. Seeing a guest approach, they placed their palms together respectfully and stepped forward, asking Daian in Thai if she had an invitation.