Bad Blood - Chapter 10

Li Mujin casually tossed the note aside, leaving it face down. Shu Rui glanced at it briefly, picked up a slice of pineapple, and took a bite. “I think she’s a bit strange, pulling you in like that. Not sure if she has other motives. But you probably don’t need me to remind you.”

Li Mujin discarded the pineapple after one bite, wiped his hands with a towel, and remained silent. He thought Ding Ke’s attempt was too amateurish, like a grade schooler pretending to be a graduate student.

What threat could she possibly pose when he saw right through her?

The yacht’s butler arrived with a server, pushing a cart into the sunken sofa area. He took the dinner from the server and set it on the table. Finally, he picked up a steel fork and placed the leg of lamb into the charcoal grill.

Li Mujin leaned forward, elbows on his knees, back slightly hunched, as he typed on his phone.

Shu Rui watched the lamb rotating on the grill, lacking appetite, and opted for seafood soup. He casually pulled a wad of cash from the twenty thousand and handed it to the butler as a tip.

With Li Mujin’s status, using cash for expenses was common, mainly to avoid tracking transactions.

Lin Zhang and Li Yang plopped down on the plush sofa, unceremoniously slicing meat with long knives.

Shu Rui glanced at them on either side. “Do you have to sit next to me?” Wouldn’t Li Mujin have too much space on a three-meter sofa alone?

Li Yang offered him some meat, grinning. “You’re safe to be around.”

“Who wouldn’t want to be near someone who never loses his temper and is always gentle and reasonable? That’s what you deserve, my dear Shu Rui,” Lin Zhang quipped.

Shu Rui ignored them.

They were all well-known rich second generation from Jiuzhou, having played hard abroad and returned home to learn the family business, essentially retiring early. Their fathers ensured they wouldn’t be taken advantage of by others.

Spoiled and connected through social ties, they didn’t give face to just anyone, nor did they attend every gathering, except those organized by Li Mujin. So those close to Li Mujin often used his name to host events.

Shu Rui knew Li Mujin allowed it not because he enjoyed partying but because he liked watching a crowd push boundaries.

Today’s event was hosted by Jiang Hao, who joined them halfway through their meal, drinking their wine and wrapping his arms around Lin Zhang and Li Yang. “This yacht is awesome,” he praised, clicking his tongue and giving Li Mujin a thumbs-up. “This must be worth tens of millions. Ms. Song really spoils Mujin.”

“Of course, she’s not going to spoil you, right?” Lin Zhang shrugged off his arm.

Li Yang finished his last bite. “Speaking of which, I saw in a card-sharing group that Guang Zi was recruiting male models and muscle men at the port for a new yacht gig. Isn’t this the only new yacht at the port?”

Guang Zi was known for arranging connections, introducing young models and actresses to executives, and finding ducks and muscle men for wealthy women.

As Li Yang mentioned this, the group exchanged glances and smoothly shifted the topic. Li Yang realized belatedly and felt a chill, grateful Li Mujin hadn’t heard their conversation.

Shu Rui understood Li Mujin well, knowing he heard everything but was indifferent to how many affairs Song Yazhi had compared to Li Chong.

After all, they both had affairs. Song Yazhi’s men were far fewer than the women Li Chong had been with. With some effort, she might match his number of illegitimate children.

But few knew about this.

Li Chong hid it well, valuing his public image greatly. He was willing to act his whole life for a “perfect” statue.

Shu Rui knew because his father was another trusted aide of Li Chong, relying on Li Chong’s favor to survive.

His father was resourceful, finding many opportunities after joining Li Chong’s circle, accumulating wealth. But he never forgot his roots, always remembering Li Chong’s support was the reason for everything.

Thus, for many years, the two families remained publicly close.

So these people were mostly Li Mujin’s friends, while Shu Rui could be considered a brother. After all, they had played together since childhood.

“I know a girl from Zhan City University’s School of Fine Arts. She has a wide network and knows many pretty students in the area. She’s invited quite a few, and they’ll be brought over by speedboat later,” Jiang Hao said with a slurp, “College girls are the best.”

Lin Zhang glanced at him. “When did you become so abstract? Go check yourself in the mirror.”

Li Yang wanted to play cards. “The night is long. Are you going to spend it all in bed? Do you have the stamina for that?”

“Even if I don’t, I have to. I heard some of them have boyfriends,” Jiang Hao said, not feeling his expression and tone were sleazy. “I just love those with boyfriends!”

Li Yang made a disgusted sound. “Jiang Hao, you’re really gross.”

As they chatted, Shu Rui got up and headed to the deck lounge chair, enjoying the night sea breeze.

Lin Zhang called out, “Not joining us again, Shu Rui!”

Jiang Hao, more reckless after drinking, said, “Don’t mind him.” Then he turned to Li Mujin, “When the girls arrive, you get first pick, Mujin.”

Li Mujin listened to their conversation, especially the part about college girls.

He didn’t respond, instead searching the floor for something.

The three were puzzled, unsure what he was looking for, but they buried their upper bodies under the table to help him search. Lin Zhang asked directly, “What’s wrong? Did something drop?”

Shu Rui heard the commotion, sat up, and turned to look at them.

Li Mujin didn’t speak, spotting a small corner of a note under Jiang Hao’s foot, and stopped moving.

Jiang Hao, unaware Li Mujin had found it, pretended to inquire, “Is it something small? Like a ring or chain?”

Li Mujin, annoyed, kicked Jiang Hao, sending him crashing into the sofa back, and retrieved the note from under his foot, adding the handwritten WeChat ID.

The three were clueless, unsure, but didn’t dare ask or make a sound.

Shu Rui lay back down, hands behind his head, gazing at the bright moon.

Ajia was on a speedboat for the first time at night, also attending a yacht party for the first time. She snapped pictures of the sea and sent them to Zhang Miaomiao. “Look at the waves! The colors are amazing!”

Zhang Miaomiao was lounging on her dorm bed, watching a TV show, and replied, “Where are you?”

Ajia: “At the port!”

Zhang Miaomiao knew this port was generally considered the one fifty meters south of the Jiuzhou and Zhan City border.

She replied again, “Who are you with?”

Ajia didn’t respond, sending a selfie instead, with the glowing blue sea in the background. She looked beautiful, smiling sweetly, making Zhang Miaomiao envious. “Is that taken with the regular camera?”

“Yeah.”

Zhang Miaomiao sat up, pressed to speak, “Isn’t it annoying? Showing off at night.”

“I’m not saying anything now. I’ll send more when I get there.”

Zhang Miaomiao rolled her eyes, “Don’t send them. I don’t want to see them, seriously!”

After sending, she tossed her phone aside, her head hanging off the top bunk, looking at Ding Ke still reading. “When will Ajia be beautiful without realizing it? I’ve cried several times from her unintentional bragging!”

Ding Ke had started having stomach pains after dinner, though she hadn’t eaten. Maybe it was because she hadn’t eaten. She pressed her stomach with one hand, annotating her book with the other, glancing at Zhang Miaomiao. “Cried?”

“Almost cried,” Zhang Miaomiao said dejectedly.

“A full heart leads to confidence.”

“She’s full-bodied. Her confidence is innate, unrelated to her heart.”

Ding Ke casually replied, “Maybe she grew up in an environment without denial, so she has an objective understanding of herself.”

Zhang Miaomiao immediately extended the idea, summarizing, “Can I understand it this way? Girls can be confident and clear-headed through two paths: relying on a supportive environment and wise parents or filling their hearts.”

Ding Ke smiled, “You can.”

Zhang Miaomiao’s braid swung as she sat up, suddenly regretting, “How did I comfort myself again?” She hung her head, ready to complain to Ding Ke, but seeing her pressing her stomach, she forgot her complaint, quickly got out of bed, poured her a cup of hot water, and stood with hands on hips, “I should move back to the lower bunk.”

Ding Ke thanked her for the hot water and said, “Don’t say it’s because you can’t take care of me from the upper bunk.”

Zhang Miaomiao raised her eyebrows, laughing heartily, her shoulders shaking. “You’re so good at predicting. Are you crazy? Don’t study law, study psychology.”

Ding Ke’s lips were pale from pain, but her expression remained calm, able to smile back, her eyes slowly and gently opening and closing.

Every time Zhang Miaomiao saw Ding Ke endure, she felt humans had no limits. She was too ordinary, with mediocre thresholds in all aspects, crying for half a day from a little pain.

Sigh.

On the speedboat, Ajia asked the senior sister from the School of Fine Arts, “It’s seven o’clock. Won’t we be back at school by midnight?”

The senior sister replied, “Probably. That’s why I told you to ask for leave in advance. If you can’t return by lights out, you won’t be penalized.”

Someone complained she hadn’t mentioned the yacht. “You didn’t say we’d be going to a yacht.”

“Have you ever had the chance to play on a yacht without buying a ticket? I thought I’d surprise you. Why blame me?” The senior sister felt wronged.

Someone defended her, “No matter where we’re going, we agreed to come out, so we should be prepared not to return early. It’s no big deal. Can’t you ask for leave, my sisters?”

“It’s not about asking for leave. You said it was a regular party, but it turned into a yacht party. Isn’t it normal for us to ask? What’s waiting for us on the yacht? We don’t know. Can’t we be concerned? You’re making me wary of this party.” Someone expressed dissatisfaction.

The senior sister had her say, “I didn’t force you when I asked in the group, right? Many said they were busy and didn’t come, right? Did I force them? It’s supposed to be fun. Whoever comes, comes. You want to play but don’t want to return late and be penalized. I’m stuck in the middle.”

The speedboat’s engine was loud, and the waves were fierce at night. They had to shout to talk, and the sea breeze was unpleasant, gradually silencing them.

Ajia had fewer concerns, believing the senior sister was just from the nearby Zhan City University. It wasn’t wise to scheme against them. They were still in school, right? Besides, what was there to scheme? With so many people, if something happened, the whole country would know tomorrow. Who would be so bold?

Who knew, some were indeed bold.

From afar, they saw the yacht’s brilliant lights, dispelling their worries. It seemed everything required risk, but if they could see unseen scenery, the risk was worthwhile.

Upon boarding the yacht, they hadn’t had time to sightsee before someone came to confiscate their phones. The girls, initially excited, now showed doubt.

“Can we leave now?” Someone was scared. With one, there was a second, and among the seven or eight, more expressed wanting to return.

The butler, very polite, smiled and explained, “Collecting phones ensures guests’ privacy isn’t compromised, protecting you as well. There have been incidents of photo leaks before, and it’s hard to explain when people talk based on pictures. So we nip it in the bud, preventing similar incidents.”

It seemed reasonable, and the girls exchanged glances, hesitating.

The senior sister was the first to hand over her phone, turning to say, “This actually proves the party’s privacy and legitimacy, right? We’re here to have fun, don’t worry. I’m with you, aren’t I?”

Gradually, more phones filled the glass box.

Ajia wanted to take one last picture for Zhang Miaomiao but forgot when urged, hurriedly sending, “The yacht is collecting phones, so I won’t be messaging you. I’ve asked for leave, might be back late. If I’m not back by morning, call the police.”

In the main cabin, the rich second generation were playing Texas Hold’em, a mix of men and women, laughing and joking, fooling around while munching on candy and sipping drinks. They were draped over each other, kissing and touching as they played cards. Conversations were interrupted by hands slipping into intimate places, and some girls even ducked under the table to indulge the boys in ways that left little to the imagination.

Moans, varying in intensity, punctuated the card game, living up to the party’s hedonistic theme.

Jiang Hao soon took two girls into a cabin.

Li Yang, more interested in the game than women, was oblivious to the chaos around him. His hair was a mess, and he had smoked through a pack of cigarettes, his eyes red and sore from staring at the dealer’s hands.

Li Mujin was there purely for leisure, not addicted to the game, but he wasn’t half-hearted either. He had both wins and losses, with a pile of cash beside him that seemed untouched.

Lin Zhang remarked, “Don’t hold back, Mujin. By now, you usually have us stripped to our underwear.”

A girl chimed in, “Mujin always wins, but he never takes it all. Lin Zhang’s just exaggerating because he’s dating a theater actress.”

Someone laughed, “That’s harsh. It’s not the theater that’s exaggerated, it’s his girlfriend.”

“Shut up,” Lin Zhang retorted, laughing along.

Li Mujin, not enjoying himself, got up and moved to the sofa area.

The room quieted down.

Shu Rui also stopped playing. “You guys carry on,” he said, more politely than Li Mujin.

Li Mujin held his drink carelessly, the glass tilted, almost spilling, but his eyes never left his phone.

“Really?” Shu Rui sat beside him.

Li Mujin heard but didn’t respond.

Shu Rui pressed, “Really? Are you letting someone get to you?” implying that Li Mujin was distracted because he added Ding Ke on WeChat but hadn’t been accepted.

Li Mujin looked up, “To be affected, I’d have to be in unfamiliar territory, facing a master. Is she a master? Is she unfamiliar to me?”

Shu Rui nodded, more dismissively than Li Mujin held his drink. “Sure.”

“Get lost,” Li Mujin said, not joking.

Shu Rui smiled lightly, “Do you remember the last time you were this upset?”

Li Mujin looked at him again.

Shu Rui leaned closer, lowering his voice as if to spare Li Mujin’s pride, “When Xue Shiyu said Ding Ke liked Chen Xiang.”

Li Mujin’s face darkened.

Shu Rui cared for him but also feared him, knowing that when Li Mujin turned, he recognized no one, not even his father. So after teasing him, Shu Rui smoothly moved to sit across from him.

Xue Shiyu and Chen Xiang were former classmates from the international school, both outstanding, from good families. Xue Shiyu was like a little sun, always shining on the silent abyss that was Ding Ke, often standing in front of her to stop Li Mujin’s bullying.

As for Chen Xiang.

Ding Ke, usually so deep and unreadable, had only ever written one name in her notebook: Chen Xiang.

Luckily, he left the country after Ding Ke’s incident and never returned. Otherwise, Shu Rui would be stuck in a battlefield he couldn’t escape-

Li Mujin used to torment Chen Xiang, and with his current audacity, it would probably be worse.

If Chen Xiang knew someone exactly like Ding Ke existed, he’d likely protect her with his life this time, to make up for the time he walked past with his head down while Li Mujin cornered Ding Ke.

Shu Rui remembered during the rehearsal for the cultural week, Li Mujin stood on the podium, and for some reason, Chen Xiang knelt before him. Holding a microphone, after a sharp feedback noise, Li Mujin sinisterly called out Ding Ke’s name, his gaze piercing through the crowd to her, saying: “Just take a look, no need to remember this person kneeling to me, because he won’t stand up again, and you’ll be sick of seeing it.”

The once-proud Chen Xiang was stripped of his dignity in front of him.

Others only saw Li Mujin’s effortless dominance over Chen Xiang, unaware that he tormented Chen Xiang just because of a torn page from Ding Ke’s notebook, a page with “Chen Xiang” written on it.

Shu Rui also recalled the next day, Li Mujin’s gloom hadn’t lifted, and he burned her notebook. She stood in the hallway, silently watching the flames, which led to her falling ill and taking leave. Li Mujin bought her over a hundred notebooks, stacking them on her desk. But it was futile; she packed them all up and donated them to the needy.

Thinking of the past, Shu Rui exhaled unconsciously.

In high school, Li Mujin was a tyrant, like a mountain, while Ding Ke was unyielding, like a pangolin. They were always at odds. But girls are never as ruthless as boys; Li Mujin treated Ding Ke like a kitten he liked to torment, holding her tightly until she whimpered in pain, never letting go.

In the end, he hurt her too much and lost her.

“Stop talking nonsense,” Li Mujin’s voice pulled Shu Rui out of his memories.

Shu Rui took a sip of his drink, smiling, “She gave you her WeChat but didn’t accept you. Isn’t that a master move?”

“You’ve been watching your phone?” Li Mujin said offhandedly.

Shu Rui looked at him quietly.

Li Mujin knew his words sounded like self-justification, so he said seriously, “Don’t assume. What you’re thinking won’t happen.”

Just as he finished, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it immediately; it was a news notification. He leaned back on the sofa, acting as if nothing had happened.

Shu Rui shook his head, looking up at the sky, as if not speaking to him, “What does it mean to be clear-headed yet lost? It’s knowing she’s approaching with an agenda, yet allowing it. Knowing her every word is insincere, every move calculated, but still…”

He didn’t finish because Li Mujin had walked away, no longer listening.

In the yacht’s lower leisure area.

Since stepping onto the yacht, Ajia had seen many girls in bikinis, draped in robes, wandering around. Some didn’t even wear bras, swaying to the music as men groped them.

She knew what this scene represented-a hedonistic party for the wealthy. They hadn’t wronged the senior sister.

The senior sister approached, clearly familiar with the setting, and poured her a drink. “Why aren’t you joining in? Look, Lailai and the others are already having fun.”

Ajia glanced at her conservative classmates in the center of the dance floor. “Aren’t they just drunk?”

The senior sister chuckled, “Your tone is so intimidating. Are all students from the School of Political Science and Law like this?”

Ajia smiled, “I’m quite mild. You haven’t met my classmate Ding Ke. The senior sister should know her; she helped the police crack a nude chat scam last year.”

The senior sister’s smile faltered but quickly recovered, “Yes, I’ve heard. Impressive.”

“Right? She’s someone who doesn’t tolerate nonsense. I told her I was coming out, and she wished me a good time.”

“Really.” The senior sister wasn’t new to this, her facade flawless. “You enjoy yourself. I’ll be over there if you need me.”

As the senior sister walked away, Ajia exhaled, hoping Ding Ke would sense her predicament.

Though praying for divine intervention to alert them was a last-minute effort, she didn’t know who else to rely on, who could be braver and smarter than Ding Ke and Zhang Miaomiao.

It was midnight, and Zhang Miaomiao hadn’t received any photos from Ajia. She hung her head down from the top bunk, speaking to Ding Ke, who hadn’t closed her book. “Ajia hasn’t sent me any pictures. Is that normal?”

Ding Ke looked up from under the night lamp. “Has anything like this happened before?”

“No, she loves to show off. If she doesn’t flaunt what she’s told me, she can’t get through the day. It drives her crazy,” Zhang Miaomiao playfully complained about Ajia.

After speaking, she sat up, realizing something. “Yeah, why hasn’t she sent anything?”

The senior sister sat at the bar, a bartender handing her a freshly mixed drink. Two men approached, draping their arms over her shoulders, grinning lecherously. “Wow, this batch is top-notch.”

The senior sister frowned, shrugging off their dirty hands. “The ones on the dance floor are fair game. No family background, no backing. A photo threat should keep them quiet.”

One man glanced at Ajia. “What about her?”

“She’s from a wealthy family and studies at the School of Political Science and Law. She has a close friend who’s a tough nut to crack. If we’re not careful, she could get everyone on this boat in trouble. Don’t mess with her,” the senior sister advised, considering her own safety. Making money was fine, but not at the cost of her life.

“She’s the best-looking one,” the man lamented.

The senior sister thought for a moment. “How about this: get her to drink a bit, maybe some kissing and cuddling, but nothing serious. That should be okay.”

The man wrapped an arm around the senior sister’s neck, planting a kiss on her cheek. “You’re so considerate!”

Zhang Miaomiao tried calling Ajia, but there was no answer. She looked at Ding Ke, and their eyes met, both realizing the problem.

Ding Ke took Zhang Miaomiao’s phone to check Ajia’s last message, picking out key details. She realized the situation was beyond their control and immediately called the police.

The police, after receiving the information they provided, refused to dispatch officers, citing the inability to confirm Ajia was in danger. They told them to wait, suggesting that based on Ajia’s message, she might return by morning.

Zhang Miaomiao checked the message again. It didn’t sound like she was in danger.

Leaving the police station, Ding Ke suggested Zhang Miaomiao post on social media.

Zhang Miaomiao didn’t understand at first, but then it clicked. “You mean let everyone know Ajia is missing, so whoever took her sees it and, fearing exposure and severe consequences, might release her?”

Ding Ke nodded.

They didn’t know if it would work, but they had to try everything.

On the yacht’s first floor.

Two men approached Ajia with drinks, greeting her with smiles. One of them politely asked, “Why aren’t you on the dance floor?”

Ajia pulled her jacket tighter. “I can’t dance.”

“You should have said so. I can teach you.”

Ajia smiled, “Thanks, but no need.”

“Is it your first time at this kind of event? You seem a bit reserved,” one of the men said.

“No, just not interested. Not in the mood,” Ajia decided that playing innocent only encouraged them, so she portrayed herself as a player.

“Same here. We’re not really into it either,” the man said sincerely. “Back in Shanghai and Hangzhou clubs, it was never this awkward.”

Ajia was suddenly interested. “Why?”

The man seemed genuine. “Back then, everyone was there to have fun. You couldn’t tell who was wealthy just by whether they opened a tab. This is different. Here, it’s obvious who’s rich. People like us, invited here, are either models or escorts.”

Ajia wasn’t what he described, but she empathized with his understanding. With information spreading rapidly, class differences were laid bare. The notion that hard work could change one’s life had become a myth, silencing those who once believed in it.

Few could defy fate through effort; most were sacrificed in the process.

Ajia found them sincere and opened up, chatting freely, unknowingly finishing a bottle of foreign liquor.

Yu Tai saw Zhang Miaomiao’s social media post and told her that Sun Li was also missing. He had seen him at noon, saying he’d buy him a late-night snack. Sun Li had been with Li Mujin, and they had gone for roast goose. When asked when he’d return to school, Sun Li mentioned the yacht.

When Ding Ke received this news, she saw a friend request from Li Mujin.

Zhang Miaomiao was analyzing whether the two incidents were connected when Ding Ke accepted Li Mujin’s request.

She usually kept her phone on Do Not Disturb mode because she didn’t like chatting. People who added her on WeChat often got tired of waiting for her replies and eventually deleted her, so not many were willing to add her.

The reason she added Li Mujin on WeChat was because of what she saw at the hospital door. Some people were all talk, but those who acted better than they spoke always caught her attention.

Whether he added her or not didn’t matter to her, but it would suit her purpose if he did.

Sun Li had been taken to the yacht by Li Mujin, and Ajia had gone missing on her way there. Clearly, the yacht was the key, and Li Mujin’s mother had recently gifted him a yacht, which had even made the news.

After she accepted the friend request, she sent him two words: “The address.”

A moment later, Li Mujin sent a location.

Ding Ke locked her phone screen, interrupting Zhang Miaomiao’s analysis. She opened a recording app and said to her, “I’m going to find Ajia and bring her back.” She then handed the recording to Zhang Miaomiao. “If there’s no news by six in the morning, use this recording to report to the police and say I’ve gone missing too. They’ll respond.”

Zhang Miaomiao was worried. “Are you okay going alone? Let me come with you!”

“Someone needs to stay behind,” Ding Ke said while getting dressed. Just before leaving, she paused, turned back, and took out an old, broken phone from a drawer. Before heading out, she told Zhang Miaomiao, “Get some sleep.”

Zhang Miaomiao pouted, “How can I sleep?”

“Is this really a big deal?”

Zhang Miaomiao hesitated. If Ding Ke said it wasn’t a big deal, then maybe it really wasn’t. Ding Ke rarely made definitive statements, so if she thought it wasn’t serious, it probably wasn’t.

Ding Ke took a taxi to the ferry terminal, only to find the gates closed. She searched for the location of a private marina and sent it to the driver. Upon arrival, someone was indeed waiting.

The speedboat was fast. As they set off, the driver handed her a thermal clothing and a life jacket. She realized the yacht must be far from shore, as it was getting colder. After who knows how many nautical miles, she finally saw the orange glow rising over the sea.

The driver mentioned that the yacht was suitable for a third-class navigation area, with a maximum distance of twenty nautical miles from shore.

Twenty nautical miles was about thirty-seven kilometers, and if something happened, there would be no one to call for help.

Upon reaching the yacht’s launching ramp, the gangway automatically opened, and the butler was waiting at the boarding entrance. As soon as she boarded, he took her thermal clothing and life jacket, smiling as he asked, “Would you like to take a shower first or have something to eat? There’s still some supper available, it’s a buffet. The main course is noodles, freshly made by the chef.”

“I’m looking for someone,” Ding Ke replied.

“Alright,” the butler said, leading the way inside.

Ding Ke thought they might confiscate her phone, which was why she brought a broken one, but they didn’t even ask for it.

The yacht had three levels, with most people active on the first level. As Ding Ke followed the butler across the gangway, she heard more and more laughter. People dressed scantily or even naked appeared one after another.

She wore a loose black sports hoodie, a black baseball cap that covered her eyes, and her slightly wavy long hair fell over her face. Under the bright and dazzling lights, she stood out, completely out of place.

Someone recognized her, tilting their head to find her eyes. “Ding Ke?”

Ding Ke looked up, not recognizing them, but they seemed to be from the same school district, naturally with Ajia. She asked directly, “Where’s Ajia?”

“Oh, she drank too much and went to sleep inside.”

“Where inside?”

“In the cabin. You can ask the bartender over there; Ajia was drinking with two male models earlier.”

Ding Ke followed the direction they pointed, making eye contact with the senior sister across the crowd.

The senior sister instinctively avoided her gaze, her drinking movements suddenly clumsy, losing the previous familiarity.

Ding Ke walked over.

The senior sister turned away, pretending to be natural as she moved elsewhere.

Ding Ke placed a hand on her shoulder, forcefully turning her around.

Facing each other, the senior sister smiled, “Ding Ke, right? I’ve heard a lot about you, nice to finally meet.”

Ding Ke, taller than her, looked down, taking the drink from her slightly trembling hand. Her voice was cold and imposing, “Where’s Ajia?”

The senior sister used a smile and hair-flipping gestures to mask her panic, “She probably drank too much and went to sleep. I’ve been chatting with friends and didn’t keep an eye on her, but she’s an adult and should know what she’s doing, right? Adults can take responsibility for themselves.”

“I’m not accusing you of kidnapping her, but your reaction is a bit suspicious.”

The senior sister’s smile faltered for a moment.

“Take me to her,” Ding Ke stepped closer, speaking in a volume only they could hear, “I promise to keep everything I see tonight a secret.”

The senior sister was defiant, “I can help you look in the cabin, but whether you keep it secret or not doesn’t really concern me. I’m just here to have fun, like Ajia. Can’t we just enjoy ourselves?”

“Then I’ll call the police. If you’re so clean, your bank transactions and records should hold up under scrutiny, don’t you think?”

The senior sister’s expression changed, and she relented, “Cabin 1103.”

Li Mujin watched from the glass railing on the third deck as Ding Ke spoke to someone. “Spoke” might not be the right word; her demeanor and actions were more like a threat.

After she accepted his friend request, he hadn’t intended to engage with her. It was she who first asked for his address.

He knew she wasn’t looking for him, but she didn’t say who she was looking for, clearly not wanting him to know. She was wary of him, afraid he might do something to the person she was looking for or use them to threaten her.

He had indeed done such things before, to someone named Xue Shiyu.

He remembered that day the weather was terrible, and Ding Ke hadn’t gone to school. He went to her house to find her.

Xue Shiyu, worried about her, also went to her house.

When Xue Shiyu arrived, he had just come down from upstairs and wouldn’t let her go up, even blocking the stairway.

At that time, Xue Shiyu, with red eyes, pointed at him and cursed, “What did you do to her! Li Mujin, you bastard, you’ll die a horrible death!”

Li Mujin didn’t need to explain anything to her and kept her confined outside the building. The standoff lasted until noon when he had someone hang her from a tree at the bottom of the building.

Xue Shiyu was tough, refusing to beg for mercy even as her face turned red from being hung, shouting even louder, “Ding Ke, don’t come down! I’m fine! Don’t fall into his trap again, don’t let him manipulate you!”

Li Mujin stood on the steps in front of the building, surveying the desolate, aging six-story building. If it weren’t for Ding Ke, he wouldn’t have known such a dangerous building existed in Jiuzhou City, and it was fully occupied.

But even though it was full, every household kept their doors and windows tightly shut. Despite Xue Shiyu’s shouting, not a single person came out to look. It seemed they were too exhausted from the struggles of life to care about others, or perhaps the building where Ding Ke lived had some sort of barrier, and the people inside couldn’t intervene.

It wasn’t until half-past one that Ding Ke finally came downstairs.

That day, her face was as bad as the weather. As she descended, her legs kept giving way, her lips were pale, her eyes weary, and her hands behind her back trembled constantly.

Xue Shiyu immediately burst into tears, “Did he do something to you? Did he?”

Ding Ke said nothing.

From that day on, rumors spread like wildfire that Ding Ke had been raped by Li Mujin.

Everyone said that such a beautiful and spirited Ding Ke had been ruined by Li Mujin, that her life was over, and she would probably have to submit to him for the rest of her life.

They also said that Li Mujin was truly evil, resorting to force when he couldn’t get what he wanted, wondering how such a devil could exist.

Later, the rumors grew so rampant that the international school teachers reported it to the police. When the police questioned Ding Ke, she denied it. The rape accusation couldn’t be pursued further, and the matter ended without resolution.

At that time, many at the international school turned against Ding Ke, calling her despicable, saying that everyone was standing up for her, yet she remained deluded and self-destructive, destined to die at Li Mujin’s hands.

A prophecy fulfilled.

That autumn, the maple leaves filled the sky, the street corners and roadsides were bathed in a glow like poetry, romantic. Then, a sudden fire came, burning away the autumn colors and taking with it the girl burdened by beauty.

Li Mujin opened his eyes, the memories temporarily stored away. The music and laughter returned to his ears, and his thoughts returned to the yacht, to this sea.

If she wasn’t her, why the instinct to hide something?

Only she would know he might threaten her, which is why she would try to avoid it.

The reason she knew, of course, was because she was her.

He looked down at his drink, realizing it was empty, though he hadn’t put the glass down. Turning, he placed the glass on the table and returned to the card table.

By the pool table, a group had just finished some unspeakable acts, leaving a mess. A waiter came to clean up, while a man, lost in lust, waved his thing around lewdly, and a woman, still in the throes of passion, sat on the table with her legs spread.

The senior sister came over with a few men to shoo them away, rolling her eyes and cursing, “No beds, huh? Making the pool table so disgusting!”

A few men fawned over her, helping the waiter clean up, while a girl coaxed the senior sister to sit on the sofa.

“Isn’t this normal? Why so angry all of a sudden?” someone brought over a drink.

The senior sister inquired about Ding Ke, “Does that girl from the School of Political Science and Law have any background?”

“Her? No idea, never heard of anything.”

A girl exclaimed, “Hey, wasn’t the victim in Li Mujin’s case also named Ding Ke?”

“Yeah, she’s got the same name as that Ding Ke,” someone replied.

Another person remembered, “Isn’t this yacht Li Mujin’s? I saw in the news that Li Mujin’s mental illness was cured, and he’s back in school. They said he had turned over a new leaf, polite and studious, a complete transformation. His mom went to Wutai Mountain to fulfill a vow and gifted him a yacht, hoping he’d maintain his state, sail through life, and forge ahead.”

Someone laughed, “Did they hire a ghostwriter for that article? I know his mom, she once mispronounced words during a Spring Festival Gala performance, cried and explained on social media, saying she had a fever and her brain couldn’t keep up with her mouth.”

“That’s quite an image.”

Among them was someone like the senior sister, a pimp, who said, “Jiang Hao organized this event, probably borrowing Li Mujin’s yacht.”

A university student from the same school district asked, “So, Li Mujin isn’t here?”

A girl teased her, “Your little thoughts are showing, huh? Want to see if he’s as handsome as in the news?”

The university student blushed, “Who wants to see such a vile person?”

“Looking and judging doesn’t mean you have a skewed worldview. What’s there to be afraid of? Praising his looks doesn’t deny his wrongdoings.”

Someone said, “He probably didn’t come. If he did, they’d announce it in advance, afraid of his unpredictable temper. His people don’t want to cause trouble for themselves.”

They chatted back and forth, while the senior sister’s attention remained on Ding Ke, “No background, yet she’s so bold? Hasn’t anyone told her what she’s dealing with? Is she acting all high and mighty?”

The group paused, realizing she was still fixated on Ding Ke.

“Understandable for someone studying law. I always feel like people in that field have their eyes on top of their heads, acting all high and mighty, thinking they can uphold justice,” someone spoke with undisguised malice and prejudice.

Someone else said, “Isn’t it simple? Just beat her up.”

“Right, we’re all insiders here, and she’s the outsider. All the phones are collected, even if she remembers everything, we outnumber her. Who would believe her?”

The senior sister, still angry, was egged on and, without weighing the pros and cons, squinted her eyes and clenched her fists, “I put Ajia in 1103. Ding Ke has to cross the third deck to find her.”

Someone cursed, “That’s wicked, huh? Those rich kids are playing cards upstairs. They never let anyone up. Can she come down in one piece?”

A sleazy male voice chimed in, “Maybe she’s hoping for it. Coming here late at night, claiming to look for someone, but actually wanting to use her looks to hook someone? She could instantly become a socialite.”

“Haha-”

Ding Ke asked the butler for the exact location of cabin 1103, took the elevator from the bow to the third deck’s reception area, and came face to face with the card-playing crowd in the open-air salon.

One against many, she remained calm, about to explain her purpose when a man approached, “Didn’t anyone tell you not to come up to the third deck? Isn’t the space on the lower two decks enough for you to party?”

The rich second generation laughed mockingly.

Shu Rui leaned against the bar, looking at Ding Ke, then casually glanced at Li Mujin in the center of the crowd.

Ding Ke gazed at Li Mujin. The cabin lights and the deck’s leisure area lights were different in color and power. The spot where Li Mujin stood was illuminated by both, a beam of white light hitting his eyes, making it clear he was watching her.

“Deaf? Can’t you hear me calling you?” the man beside her urged.

Shu Rui stopped watching, sat on a high chair, faced the bartender, and drank while checking his phone.

Ding Ke took out her phone.

Jiang Hao had just returned and saw a girl on the third deck with a phone. He raised an eyebrow, tilted his head, and walked toward her, saying, “What’s going on? A straggler? Weren’t all the phones collected?”

Ding Ke opened WeChat and made a voice call.

The next second.

Li Mujin’s phone vibrated incessantly on the card table.

Jiang Hao, about to reach Ding Ke, stopped abruptly, turned around, and looked at Li Mujin in surprise.

The others exchanged glances, understanding the situation and relieved they hadn’t spoken up.

Li Mujin answered.

Ding Ke said, “I’m here.”

Li Mujin’s eyes fixed on her, he spoke into the phone, “I’m not blind.”

Ding Ke hung up without saying more, walking past them straight to the cabin.

She just walked past, and Li Mujin didn’t stop her.

He actually didn’t stop her.

Shu Rui, as if expecting this outcome, showed no expression as he drank.

Jiang Hao exchanged glances with Lin Zhang: Who is she?

Lin Zhang shrugged and shook his head: No idea, just ignore it.

Li Mujin looked at them, “Are we playing or not?”

They snapped back to reality and continued playing cards.

Ding Ke found cabin 1103, and the door was ajar. She frowned and pushed it open forcefully, finding only Ajia on the bed, fully clothed.

Closing the door, she walked to the bed, intending to cover Ajia with a blanket. Ajia, half-awake, saw her and relaxed, turning over and mumbling, “Ke, you’re here. I drank too much. I’ll tell you tomorrow…”

Ding Ke tucked her in, turned off the lights, and went to the open-air terrace. She first informed Zhang Miaomiao that everything was fine, advising her not to call the police and to get some sleep. Then she looked at the men and women sunbathing on the second deck.

Suddenly, there was a noise at the door. She frowned and walked toward it, “Who’s there?” Then came the sound of a password being entered. Realizing what was happening, the door opened, and someone entered, bringing with them the scent of pearwood, pressing her into a corner.

She pushed him away with both hands, lowering her voice to avoid waking Ajia, “Get off!”

He refused, gripping her waist, lifting her onto the island counter, pulling her closer, positioning her legs on either side of his waist, leaving only a thin layer of fabric between her private area and his abs.

He said nothing, trying to kiss her.

She turned away.

He grabbed her face, forcing her to face him.

She resisted, keeping her mouth shut.

“Didn’t you give me your WeChat? Why are you pretending to be pure?”

Li Mujin’s twisted tone.

“Accepting a friend request isn’t accepting a mating request. You have no shortage of women. Can you let me go? Respect me, and stop looking for traces of someone else on me to satisfy your twisted regrets and memories of her.” Ding Ke leaned in, their breaths mingling, making him see clearly, “Look closely, I’m not her.”

Out of everything she said, he only responded to one thing, “I do lack.”