“Mr. Shen!” someone called out as they hurried into the room.
Shen Keye didn’t alter his stance. His cool gaze fixed through the crosshairs on the woman standing not far away—raven-black hair, silver-and-black shooting suit hugging her form, porcelain skin framing a delicate face.
The sight of that face, so eerily similar to Liang Jin’s, sparked an instant surge of disgust in Shen Keye. But as he narrowed his eyes, he realized it wasn’t quite right.
“Who is that?” he asked.
“It’s… Miss Liang from Jiangnan. She’s Mr. Zhou’s fiancée. Please…”
A cold voice cut him off. “Fiancée?”
The man stared anxiously at the gun in Shen Keye’s hand and rushed to explain. “Mr. Zhou and Miss Liang are tying the knot next week.”
Veins bulged over the sharp knuckles of Shen Keye’s hand. Those carefully chosen words hung in the air. He paused for a moment, then let out a soft scoff. His dark eyes drifted downward as he set the firearm on the table. Only after the coach and safety officer had inspected it did he step away from the shooting station.
The staff member, still shaken from earlier, trailed after him with a suggestion. “Sir, please adhere to the club’s rules as much as possible…” Don’t point guns at people.
Shen Keye replied airily, “Just joking.”
Whispers rippled through the onlookers.
The staff member managed an awkward smile and fell silent.
Shao Xingyu had just received a message from Rong Jiahui. When he spotted Shen Keye emerging, he broke into a grin and drawled lazily, “I was wondering this morning why a big shot like you decided to crash my little game.”
The moment Shen Keye had returned from Manhattan, he’d ordered Shao Xingyu to the airport to pick him up.
Shao Xingyu flicked a glance toward the woman standing beside Zhou Shaochuan. Her gaze drifted indifferently over them—clear and cold, profound as a chill fog blanketing a city lost to wine, women, and song.
“So,” Shao Xingyu said with a teasing lilt, “it wasn’t me you were after.”
~~~
The club’s private lounge was dimly lit at 4:20 p.m., its windows draped in dark red curtains. A single vintage orange lamp cast a warm glow over the space.
Discarded cards lay scattered haphazardly across the table.
What separated the players across the smoked-glass coffee table wasn’t merely the game now, but a deal worth billions.
Shao Xingyu’s eccentric ways were infamous. Anyone seeking to do business with him had to play cards first—Little Boss Shao’s mantra was that a man’s play at the table revealed his true character. Plenty grumbled about it, but no one seeking a favor dared utter a word of protest.
Shao Xingyu lounged on the sofa with his legs splayed wide, half his face shrouded in shadow. He could have passed for just another spoiled heir killing time.
By contrast, Shen Keye exuded a cool, unflappable steadiness.
He reclined on the black leather sofa in his loose black shooting suit, the fabric subtly tracing the lines of his physique. One leg crossed over the other in relaxed poise, he idly flicked open and shut a silver lighter. The crisp metallic clicks echoed in the hushed room as he murmured, “King of Hearts.”
His low, magnetic voice betrayed no emotion.
Zhou Shaochuan was locked in a duel with Shao Xingyu and had already dropped the first game. Now a King blocked his path, trapping the two cards in his hand. He forced a strained smile and said diplomatically, “Ah-Ye, this is between Little Boss Shao and me. No need for you to get involved.”
Shen Keye let out a faint chuckle.
He said nothing more, so Zhou Shaochuan pressed on. “Ah-Ye, like it or not, I was your brother-in-law once. Can’t you show me a little respect?”
“Boss Zhou,” Shen Keye replied, “you could always ask for help too.”
An undercurrent of tension thickened the air, heavy and stifling.
Liang Jin kept her eyes downcast, a wave of dizziness washing over her. Her breaths came shallow and strained.
With no one else in the room, she knew exactly whom Shen Keye meant by “ask for help.”
When they’d first entered, he’d treated her like a stranger—not a single glance spared, dismissing her outright as Zhou Shaochuan’s tawdry arm candy.
Yet the image of that black gun muzzle refused to fade from her mind, inseparable from Shen Keye’s gaze: cold, hollow, brimming with loathing.
He obviously hadn’t forgotten her.
Zhou Shaochuan lost the next hand even quicker.
Shao Xingyu laughed with roguish delight as he shuffled the deck. “Boss Zhou, it’s best of five. If you can’t win a single round, I might have to question your competence.”
Losing this investment would cripple Heng Ren Pharmaceuticals, but the real issue lay elsewhere—not with Shao Xingyu.
The middle-aged man asked quietly, “Little Boss Shao, what happens if I lose again?”
“Lose again?” Shao Xingyu shot him an incredulous look laced with disdain, as if the very idea were absurd. “Then it’s zero investment.”
Liang Jin’s eyes were on Shao Xingyu, but she caught the faint tug of a smile on Shen Keye’s lips from the corner of her vision the moment Little Boss Shao finished speaking.
A thin, triumphant smirk, certain of victory.
Shao Xingyu was Shen Keye’s childhood friend. Liang Jin could easily guess who fueled Little Boss Shao’s high-handed attitude.
Shen Keye had given his blessing to it all.
Sweat beaded on Zhou Shaochuan’s forehead. He rose and said, “Excuse me, I need the restroom.”
Shao Xingyu shrugged. “Be my guest.”
The moment Zhou Shaochuan stepped out, only three people remained.
Liang Jin rose tactfully to follow.
“Miss Liang.”
Someone stopped her.
She turned slowly. She thought Shao Xingyu had spoken, but only then did Liang Jin realize the man at the center of the sofa wasn’t Shao Xingyu at all.
It was Shen Keye.
The man groped for his lighter, cupped his hands around the flame to light a cigarette, the lazy glow illuminating his stern, icy brow ridge.
He lifted his gaze. She was standing while he sat, yet it was he who looked down on her from on high.
Shen Keye was watching her.
Shao Xingyu continued, “Heng Ren Pharmaceuticals’ recent investment in the Congenital Heart Disease Treatment Project was for you, wasn’t it? Or to be more precise, for your sister. That funding gap was caused by pouring money into this project.”
Liang Jin glanced at Little Boss Shao. “Mr. Shao, you certainly know Heng Ren like the back of your hand.”
Shao Xingyu arched an eyebrow. “We can’t invest blindly.”
Liang Jin replied coolly, “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.”
She hurried to the door. The metal handle felt bone-chillingly cold beneath her fingers.
Just as she pressed it down, she heard Shen Keye speak. “Liang Jin, if you walk out that door, Zhou Shaochuan is guaranteed to lose the third round.”
It was a direct address, cold as ice.
He did remember her name.
But after years apart, the first words he spoke to her were a threat.
Liang Jin’s eyelashes fluttered. Reflexively, her eyes reddened in an instant. Fear, long-buried grievance, and an unprecedented panic seized her body. She gripped the handle until her knuckles whitened and asked without turning around, “What do you want, Mr. Shen?”
A faint voice came from behind her. “Bet with me.” He paused, then added, “If you win, I’ll make the investment.”
In Hong Kong, few could pull together a few dozen billion on short notice. Shao Xingyu was one of them. So was Shen Keye.
Liang Jin mustered a sliver of interest. “And if I lose?”
Shen Keye smiled faintly. “You. At my disposal.”
~~~
Zhou Shaochuan’s third round was called off.
The moment he returned, he learned that Shen Keye would invest in his place.
At that moment, Liang Jin stood in the corner with her arms hugged tightly to her chest, her scalp prickling with unease.
She hadn’t agreed to Shen Keye’s terms, yet the spoils of victory were already being served up on a silver platter.
A sense of danger permeated her entire body.
Zhou Shaochuan had weathered many storms and knew something was off. He shot a covert glance at Liang Jin.
“Then let’s have a pleasant partnership,” Zhou Shaochuan said, extending his hand toward Shen Keye.
The man ignored him and strode to Liang Jin’s side instead.
He towered a head above her. Before leaving, he slipped the Penthouse Black Gold Room Card into her hand and leaned close to her ear. His masculine presence was aggressively invasive, his tone utterly detached.
“Nine o’clock tonight.”
When Liang Jin had dated Shen Keye, they often made bets—nothing too outrageous by her standards, just simple games of chess.
He had taught her himself, guiding her hand. In those games, the art was to maneuver your opponent into placing their pieces exactly where you wanted them.
Back then, Liang Jin always won. She knew he was letting her.
Now, this man wouldn’t show her any mercy, and she hadn’t played chess in years.
In the car on the way back, Liang Jin explained about the room card. Zhou Shaochuan didn’t quite buy it, but out of deference to Shen Keye’s investment, he didn’t press the issue. His tone remained relatively mild. “Jinjin, head home early and text me when you get there.”
Liang Jin knew Zhou Shaochuan’s temperament well. He didn’t care about her past dalliances, but once they were married, he wouldn’t tolerate any real boundary-crossing with Shen Keye.
That kissing photo had already gotten under his skin.
Remembering Shen Keye’s words—”at my disposal”—sent a chill racing through Liang Jin’s body.
But with a knife to her throat, she had no choice but to go.
…
At nine o’clock that evening, on Stubbs Road, Liang Jin arrived at the door right on time.
She had no idea what awaited her.
Unexpectedly, the door was unlocked, and the sound of running water pattered from inside the room.
The entire penthouse consisted of just this one suite. He was waiting for her.
When Shen Keye emerged from the shower, he found Liang Jin sitting on the bed, waiting for him.
She had changed back into her own clothes: a gray knit sweater paired with dark blue jeans, her black hair cascading loosely, light makeup accentuating her features. She met his gaze without a trace of fear, looking far more appealing this way.
Liang Jin skipped the pleasantries and simply asked, “Mr. Shen, where do we play?”
It came out sounding almost like she was offering herself up for his amusement.
The chessboard sat ready on a nearby round table.
Shen Keye draped a bathrobe over his shoulders in silence and walked over, tapping the tabletop to signal her.
Only then did Liang Jin notice the tattoo snaking across his waist and abs: a rose entwined with a serpent. They had gotten matching ones together years ago. Shen Keye had coaxed her into it, investing five billion in the film that launched her career.
So many years later, she had lasered hers off.
Yet he still kept his.
As if to remind himself never to forget his hatred for her.
Beside the round table, floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of Victoria Harbour at night: streets flowing like rivers of light, skyscrapers piercing the sky amid a blaze of illumination. It was every bit the famed city of desire.
Liang Jin felt like she was sitting on pins and needles.
In this very room, during their most passionate moments of lovemaking, he had once warned her that betrayal would make her life hell.
Now, everything had changed. The silence was broken only by the soft clicks of chess pieces being moved.
Liang Jin couldn’t bear the silence any longer. She spoke up. “Mr. Shen, if I lose, what do you plan to do with me?” She asked again, “Withdraw the investment?”
Shen Keye made his move neither too quickly nor too slowly—just the right measured pace, as if he had given it some thought, yet a touch faster than someone plotting far ahead.
It was torture, like a dull knife sawing through flesh.
Liang Jin didn’t make her move.
Only then did Shen Keye glance at her. His short black hair was still damp. He looked at her without any expression, his tone mocking. “So desperate for money?”
Liang Jin shot back, “Investment.”
A more respectable way of putting it.
Shen Keye let out a scoff.
But she was going to lose.
On the black-and-white chessboard, the white pieces were in clear decline.
Liang Jin knew full well she couldn’t beat him. She pressed her lips together. “Mr. Shen, if this is just an excuse for revenge, there’s no need for all this roundabout nonsense.”
She saw no point in continuing. She rose to her feet. “I’m leaving.”
The chair scraped harshly across the floor.
Liang Jin’s steps felt unsteady beneath her.
Shen Keye had let her believe there was the slimmest chance for this investment—her sister’s life hanging in the balance—only to snatch it away without mercy, forcing her to accept the punishment for defeat.
Retribution.
Her hands and feet had gone ice-cold. When she reached the door, she discovered it was locked tight.
She twisted the handle frantically, but it wouldn’t budge.
Fear crashed over her. She turned to look back. Shen Keye was still seated at the table, his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, his posture relaxed—not the slovenly air of a jaded businessman. The glittering, opulent nightscape of the Hong Kong District framed him perfectly.
Shen Keye said flatly, “I had the hotel staff lock the door. It won’t open until tomorrow morning.”
Liang Jin’s mind went blank. “What?” She came to her senses and checked her phone—no signal. Panic flickered across her face as she demanded, “Shen Keye, what the hell are you planning?”
Shen Keye gave her a glance and smiled, almost reassuringly. “Relax, I won’t lay a finger on you. In exchange, Liang Jin, let’s call tonight’s bet a win for you.”
He had no interest in touching her.
What he wanted tonight wasn’t Liang Jin herself, but her fiancé’s suspicion—the kind that no amount of explanation could dispel.
Shen Keye stated it plainly. “You’re getting married next Monday.”
The chess game tonight had never truly been about winning or losing.
If Liang Jin spent the night with him, Zhou Shaochuan was bound to suspect.
Even if he told Zhou Shaochuan personally that nothing had happened, Zhou Shaochuan wouldn’t believe him.
Shen Keye studied the board and asked, “Do you really think you can get married right under my nose?”
Liang Jin’s heart clenched sharply, a web of dense pain spreading through her. Doubt and hatred surged, the fracture from eight years ago—born of love and loathing—still lingering at its brutal peak.
And not far away,
scattered chess pieces lay in disarray beside the chessboard, its grooves scarred from the brutal clash of black and white.
The man raised his hand and flicked over Liang Jin’s last remaining white piece, her lone king. It wobbled unsteadily before plummeting into the abyss.
Shen Keye looked up at her, his pitch-black eyes lightless and unyielding, his gaze fixed.
“Checkmate.”
He said.
Total victory.