Liang Jin was roused from sleep by the chill of the anti-inflammatory IV drip. She watched as blood began flowing back into the line, then groggily fumbled for her phone and called Shen Keye.
“Looking for Ah-Ye?”
It wasn’t Shen Keye who picked up.
Shao Xingyu had just been hounded by a call from Jiang Manyu and wasn’t in the best mood. He snapped right away, “Who the hell are you?”
The voice on the other end sounded crisp and clean. “Where is he?”
Shen Keye had just finished his basic training, with damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead. He looked up and asked, “Who’s calling?”
Shao Xingyu frowned and said, “She says her name’s Liang Jin.”
Shen Keye’s hand paused mid-wipe of his hair. With a calm gaze that betrayed little interest, he replied, “Tell her to come over.”
Shao Xingyu had witnessed the intimate moment between them that morning. “Ah-Ye, you got a thing for her or what?”
Shen Keye asked, “What do you think?”
Shao Xingyu let out a meaningful hum. “Who knows? But your uncle’s coming by soon. If he finds out you’re hanging out with someone he hasn’t approved…”
Shen Junbang had always restricted Shen Keye’s movements. Aside from competitions, he wasn’t allowed to leave the Hong Kong District.
Shen Keye chuckled lightly. “I’m planning to snatch the gift he got for Jiang Manyu right out from under him.”
Shao Xingyu frowned. “Your uncle dotes on Jiang Manyu so much—how dare you—”
Shen Keye knew what Shao Xingyu was worried about. A flash of youthful arrogance and reckless pride crossed his features as he shot him a cool glance. “If anyone’s making a real move, it’ll be on me. What do you have to fear?”
~~~
The training grounds where Shen Keye practiced were at an outdoor shooting range on the outskirts.
Entry required a card swipe. Liang Jin followed the staff inside and immediately noticed how deathly quiet the entire place was—you could have heard a pin drop.
“There’s a big shot coming today, Miss Liang. Please keep your voice down,” the staff member whispered by way of explanation.
Liang Jin’s eyes went straight to Shen Keye on the other side of the glass wall. Dressed in a black-and-silver shooting outfit, the young man’s profile bore faint pressure marks from aiming. His face was expressionless as he stared down the running pig target ten meters away.
He had absolute patience and precision when it came to prey and targets.
Bang! One shot, dead center.
As if sensing Liang Jin’s gaze, he turned to look at her.
Seeing him again stirred complicated feelings in Liang Jin. She pushed open the door to go in, but the staff member blocked her. “Miss Liang, you can’t enter the training area.”
Liang Jin ignored him. Her face, pale from illness, curved into a faint smile as she said, “Shen Keye, want to have a match?”
Winning or losing wasn’t her goal. She just wanted an excuse to get close to him. Shen Keye took off his cap and glanced at her, then told the staff, “I invited her.”
The staff member let out an “Ah” and said, “Okay,” before awkwardly retreating.
Now it was just the two of them in the training area.
Shen Keye’s gaze lingered for three seconds on the swollen back of Liang Jin’s hand. “Fever gone down?”
“Much better.”
Liang Jin’s muscles still felt a bit weak, but the nausea and vomiting had stopped.
Shen Keye said, “I’ll take you to see the cat later.”
Liang Jin blinked. “Cat?”
“Meng Huimin’s got one,” Shen Keye said, looking at her. “Want to meet it?”
Liang Jin paused, then smiled. “So, you want me to keep you company for a match first?”
Shen Keye’s eyes drifted up to her serious expression, and he found it amusing. “You want to go up against me? Liang Jin, do you even know how to shoot?”
Liang Jin looked away. “When I was little, I went to the market with my sister and played the shooting gallery game. I let her win the top prize—a stuffed bear.”
Her dark eyes held a fractured light, her feigned gentleness laced with intent.
Shen Keye gave her a glance. The corner of his thin lips twitched beneath his straight nose, and he smiled. “Next time. Someone’s challenging me right now.”
…
Someone handed Liang Jin a bottle of water, and that’s when she learned the middle-aged man about to compete with Shen Keye was Shen Junbang.
The renowned Mr. Shen—the real power player who decided on movie investments.
He arrived fashionably late. Seated in a wheelchair, the middle-aged man wore a black suit. His target had been lowered for him. He’d been a soldier once, and though many years had passed since his discharge, he was still sharp with a gun—72 points out of ten shots.
“It’s been a while since I trained with you, Ah-Ye.” Shen Junbang chatted casually with Shen Keye, his rugged features carrying a subtle, authoritative smile that hinted at deeper meaning. “I got called to North America a while back to handle family business. Only heard from your sister on the phone that you’d come back to Hong Kong. Quite the tough guy you’ve become, stirring up all that trouble.” He appraised him. “Busy boy, aren’t you, Ah-Ye?”
Shen Keye smiled breezily. “Not as busy as you, Uncle.”
“A loss is a loss.” Shen Junbang didn’t seem bothered, just offered some advice. “Your sister says you’re heartless. Manyu says you don’t look after girls at all. And every story I hear about you is bad.”
Shen Keye lowered his eyes and tore off his black shooting glove. “So? You came to talk about all this petty stuff?”
Shen Junbang had already heard about Shen Keye’s recent situation from the Old Butler. His gaze shifted to the girl in the corner, and he said coldly, “I should have told you to make fewer friends. Little Ye, whatever you want, you’ll drive it crazy.”
Shen Keye lowered his eyes halfway to meet the middle-aged man’s gaze and let out a silent scoff.
Shen Keye shrugged on a jacket and said, “I’m leaving.”
Since Shen Junbang had raised the boy from childhood, he of course knew exactly what Shen Keye was thinking. He commanded, “Have you forgotten that little beast you raised before?”
Shen Keye halted in his tracks, glancing sideways as he said, “Anything else you want to say?”
“Settle down properly and date Manyu—and listen to your sister too…”
In the vast shooting range, the staff and coach had long retreated to the corner. Shen Keye glanced at Liang Jin, who stood holding a bottle of water and waiting for him. He didn’t call him “uncle,” cutting him off instead. “Enough.” Shen Keye knew all too well what kind of man his uncle was. He glanced back at the other’s exhausted form, still too weak to stand for the moment, and added, “If you don’t want to head back to North America and keep dealing with one headache after another, then stay out of my business.”
Liang Jin had heard their entire conversation.
The young man strode toward the exit, his profile sleek and profound, his prominent Adam’s apple concealing a cold scoff. Liang Jin hurried after him.
The sky had darkened, the heavy clouds casting a gloomy pallor, with only a few tattered wisps veiling the faint, uncertain stars.
It wasn’t until they were a short distance outside that Liang Jin called out to him. The young man’s face still bore that icy chill.
Liang Jin said, “You performed well.”
She handed him the bottle of mineral water. Knowing better than to dwell on what had just happened, she changed the subject. “Didn’t you say you’d take me to see some cats?”
Shen Keye looked at her. His ink-black eyes were frigid and aloof as he stared, then suddenly curled into a cold sneer. “Is that it? You came to me only for things that benefit you?”
Liang Jin blinked in confusion at the abrupt question but answered honestly. “This isn’t about self-interest.”
This was about life itself.
“Liang Jin, what are you to me?” The young man’s voice was a low, magnetic chill, utterly indifferent. “I have no obligation to help you.”
Liang Jin replied calmly, “Shen Keye, the ‘little beast’ your uncle used to threaten you—is that your cat?”
Wu Lin had mentioned it to her once before. Shen Keye had a cat he adored, but it had later been chased from the house, left homeless, and struck by a car. Liang Jin continued, “I want to see that cat. I think you do too.”
He was in a foul mood.
Her voice drifted on the wind. “You really like cats, don’t you?”
~~~
Meng Huimin’s cat was boarded at a cat cafe in Central. Liang Jin had checked the visitor logs; Meng Huimin picked up her kitty every night at eleven.
The cat was a stunning British Shorthair, shy around strangers and standoffish with people.
Liang Jin gave it a couple of gentle teases before turning to Shen Keye. “Where’s your cat?”
She wanted to know.
Liang Jin asked, “Shen Keye, what did your cat look like?”
“Black. A disabled stray.”
At first, Liang Jin thought he wouldn’t answer, but his words stunned her. “Disabled?”
“All four legs had been amputated by someone. No paws—just the joints.”
A cat like that was terribly fragile. It wouldn’t live long.
Shen Keye narrowed his eyes at Liang Jin. Abruptly, he pressed his lips together in a faint smile. “While I was away at a competition, someone threw it out.”
Liang Jin felt a pang of sympathy. “Why?”
Shen Keye didn’t name the culprit. He simply told her, “My uncle thought it was for the best. He says I’m a control freak—obsessive, a born bad seed.”
Liang Jin rose to her feet without comment.
Shen Keye was an enigma, a swirling mist she couldn’t penetrate. Yet she had to admit, deep down, that he held a fatal allure for her.
The young man flashed her a wicked grin. “Got a smoke?”
Liang Jin’s cigarettes were mild and smooth, thin and salty. She pulled the blue pack from her pocket and offered him one.
The cat shelter’s smoking area was cramped—a narrow, disused game room—with a chessboard smack in the center, locked in a stalemate.
Liang Jin had only a rough grasp of chess rules, but Shen Keye clearly knew the game.
“It’s a dead end,” he said.
Shen Keye glanced sideways, arching a brow as he held out his hand to her. “Lighter.”
Liang Jin’s lighter was a neat square. He took it and retreated to the corner, his tall, disheveled frame straight and commanding. Cigarette dangling from his lips, he lowered his gaze while his long, knuckled fingers traced the engraved name on the lighter’s edge.
He toyed with the flint wheel, striking the flame over and over. The flickering light danced through the dust motes in the room.
Shen Keye asked, “Liang Jin, what kind of person do you think I am?”
He cupped his hands around the flame and lit up. The Xuanhemen—often mocked as a woman’s cigarette—slid smoothly down his throat, potent all the same.
Flecks of ashen shadow played across his sharp, cold features.
Liang Jin murmured softly, “I don’t know.”
Not a good person, in any case.
Shen Keye regarded her, his tousled bangs falling over his eyes. He wore a simple black jacket over his black-and-silver shooting uniform, drawing the eye to that tiny black mole.
He removed the cigarette from his lips and told her, “Liang Jin, I made sure you overheard what happened today.”
Liang Jin froze.
It suddenly hit her: Shao Xingyu, who had stepped away to take that call, was gone. But Shen Junbang—the one who wouldn’t let him make friends—had spotted her.
He had done it on purpose.
Shen Keye said, “You know what I want.”
A wave of heart palpitations left her struggling to breathe.
Shen Keye stepped closer and asked, “Are you scared?”
His dark eyes churned like an ashen storm on the horizon. Despite the fine weather, Liang Jin felt a chill.
He wanted her.
Liang Jin stared blankly at the man before her. His approach was forceful and absolute, leaving no room for refusal—it was as if he were compelling their souls to resonate.
She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her vision filled with nothing but Shen Keye. “Will you hurt me?” she asked.
“No.”
“Shen Keye,” she said.
After a moment’s hesitation, Liang Jin looked away. “I want you to personally send my portfolio to Meng Huimin.”
In the dim yellow glow of the light, Shen Keye caught sight of the girl’s cool profile. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
Shen Keye didn’t answer right away. Instead, he asked, “Liang Jin, do you know the basic principle of game theory?”
He stood right behind her.
Liang Jin frowned, tension coiling through her unbidden. Her spine straightened, her breaths growing shallow.
Shen Keye didn’t touch her—not even a little. He simply leaned over her, reaching past to reveal a chessboard locked in a hopeless stalemate.
No one had touched it in ages; a thin layer of dust coated the pieces.
He placed the white queen—the symbol of royal power—square in the center of the board, aimed straight at her heart.
“Inducement and calculation,” Shen Keye said flatly.
The hand clutching his cigarette hovered at her side, its invasive, dangerous aura brushing the edge of her ear.
Liang Jin couldn’t quite put words to the twisted, profound sensation that pierced her soul so sharply—yet she knew with crystal clarity that his next words would stay with her for life.
Shen Keye taught her, “You have to lure your opponent into dropping their piece exactly where you want them to.”