Chapter 11: Tricked!!!
For once, Wu Yifan didn't sneak off to the mahjong parlor or the internet café across the street. Instead, he stayed cooped up in his security booth, scrolling through news articles about the mysterious "Yanhuang Miracle." It was surreal—just days ago, he'd been a nobody, slouching through shifts at Infinity KTV; now, he was a global enigma, dissected in forums and headlines. *Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west*, he thought, recalling an old saying. Fortune really did shift like the tides.
At midnight, as he locked up the booth, he noticed a light on in Ye Xiwen's office. The door hung ajar, a thin slice of golden light spilling into the hallway. Odd—Ye was obsessed with her beauty sleep, never pulling all-nighters. Manager Liao handled the late shifts, so why was she still here?
"Boss Ye?" he called, rapping gently on the door.
Ye looked up, her fingers brushing a crimson invitation. She'd been staring at it, her expression distant, but snapped back to attention when she saw him. "有事吗?(You need something?)" Her voice was neutral, but her eyes flickered—like she'd been caught off guard.
"You okay?" Wu stepped in, pulling up a chair uninvited.
Ye sighed, sliding the invitation across the desk. "Read this."
Wu scanned it, his brow creasing. *"Grand Gathering of Beitian's Entertainment Venues,"* hosted by Zhang Hualei. It listed every KTV, nightclub, and bar in the city—Infinity included. "Who's Zhang Hualei? Sounds like he's got a big ego, summoning everyone like this. Beitian's top dog?"
"His father's Zhang Weiguo—the mayor," Ye said, her tone flat.
Wu whistled. A mayor's son colluding with nightlife bosses? That was textbook *black and white colluding*—power in the light, influence in the dark.
"What are you gonna do?" he asked.
Ye leaned back, massaging her temples. "I don't have a choice. If I skip it, he'll make Infinity's life hell. Rent hikes, inspections—he's got the power. At least it's not just us. Every venue's going. Misery loves company, right?" She forced a smile, but her jaw was tight.
Wu nodded. Infinity was mid-tier at best—no match for a mayor's son. "You gotta spend money to make money. Smart call." He stood, ready to leave—this wasn't his fight.
"Wait." Ye stood too, leaning across the desk, her perfume—soft, floral—wafting toward him. "I want you to come with me."
Wu froze. "Me? You're serious?"
Before, she'd have taken Manager Liao—tall, smooth-talking, good at glad-handing. But ever since he'd laid into that goon in the private room, something had shifted. There was a sharpness to him, a quiet intensity she couldn't read. Maybe… maybe he was more than a slacker.
"These gatherings—they're minefields," she said, her voice lower. "Politics, backstabs, guys trying to muscle in. I need someone… steady. With you there, maybe—" She stopped, catching herself. "You can help run interference. That's what security does, right?"
"Manager Liao's better at this. I'm just a guard—"
"Please." Ye's eyes locked onto his, warm and urgent. The desk lamp gilded her features, turning her cheeks a soft pink, her lips full and parted. For a second, Wu's mind went blank. She looked… vulnerable. Not the "Black Widow," just a woman in over her head.
The scent of her perfume, the way her hair fell over her shoulder, the flicker of desperation in her gaze—it hit him like a wave. He swallowed hard. "Fine. I'll go."
Ye's face lit up, relief flooding her features. "Great. It's day after tomorrow, noon. Heavenly Realm (a high-end venue known for luxury events)."
Wu scowled. "Wait—this is work. I want paid."
Ye laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Name your price."
"1,000 yuan."
"200."
"800."
"300."
"600."
"500."
"Deal."
Wu grumbled, but he was already halfway out the door. *Stupid*, he thought. *Stupid, stupid, stupid.* He'd let her smile, that perfume, throw him off.
Ye watched him go, a smirk playing on her lips. *Got him.* She'd figured him out—lazy, but with a soft spot for a pretty face. A little charm, a little urgency, and he folded. Easy.
Still, as she locked up, her mind wandered. What *was* it about him? That calm when he fought, the way he'd stared down 20 goons like they were ants…
She shook her head. *Who cares?* He was useful. That's all that mattered.
Far from Beitian, in a lavish Beijing villa, Ding Shihan hurled her phone onto the bed, her cheeks flushed.
"Stupid! Stupid *Running Emperor*!" she fumed, kicking the sheets. "Faster than a motorcycle? Big deal! Superman flies! Why's everyone saying… saying those things about us?"
The comments replayed in her head—vulgar, lewd, linking her to a stranger. Her chest felt tight, her skin hot. *It's not true. It's not.* But the words stuck, crawling under her skin.
"Shihan? What's wrong, dear?"
Her nanny, Mama Xu, stepped in, her face soft with concern. She picked up the phone, scrolling through the articles. "Ah. The internet again. Pay it no mind—people say silly things."
"But they're *lying*!" Ding sat up, her eyes glistening. "Calling me… that. With *him*." She shuddered. "Who even is he? Some guy in Beitian? I'll show him. I'll—"
"Calm down, little firecracker." Mama Xu smoothed her hair. "Beitian's a big city. What are the odds you'll ever meet him?"
Ding crossed her arms, muttering, "Beitian… I remember that name."
Somewhere, a thousand miles away, Wu Yifan sneezed—hard. Then again. And again.
"Who's cursing me?" he muttered, rubbing his nose. A chill ran down his spine, like someone was watching.
He quickened his pace, the night air suddenly cold. Tomorrow, he'd deal with Ye and her stupid gathering. For now, he just wanted to get home—preferably before whatever bad luck was coming his way caught up.
The streetlights flickered, and Wu Yifan sighed. Just another night in his very, very strange new life.