Chapter 35

Ruan Ning's heart slammed against her ribs. In the dead of night, alone with Bu Chen, his gaze burned into her like a predator eyeing its prey. His intentions were unmistakable.

Her face went pale, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She sputtered out a quick string of refusals: "N-no, no need! I'm fine right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Nowhere at all?" Bu Chen's brow furrowed in mock regret as he repeated her words, a faint laugh escaping him. "Don't come crying later."

Ruan Ning almost stumbled, but she steeled herself and raised her voice: "Enough. Stop pushing it. I'll never set foot in your room, no matter what!"

Bu Chen gave her a strange, teasing look, offering no reply. Ruan Ning found his smile unsettling.

"Why are you looking at me like that? The only place on this yacht I haven't seen is your bedroom. I won't go, so drop it."

Bu Chen's expression lit up with mock realization. "Oh, I meant the night-fishing dinghy. Though, come to think of it, I might be taking a risk. The captain might take one look at that cute face of yours and let you go."

Large yachts stock small boats in the hold for passengers to fish from. These are fully equipped with supplies for a full day—a tiny, isolated world adrift at sea.

Ruan Ning fumed. Bu Chen was too sly for her to outwit. She choked on her frustration, feeling like a stuffed dumpling ready to burst.

Bu Chen tilted his head, savoring the sight of her puffed cheeks, his smile widening. As they left the room and descended the stairs, a furtive figure blocked their path.

"Chen-ge, can I have a word?"

The newcomer was the second young master of Hongye Group.

Bu Chen took a moment to place him, then said, "Ah, Song Shao. What is it?"

"No, no—who would dare call himself 'young master' in front of you?" Song Shao quickly demurred, looking flattered. He was tall and gangly like a noodle, with sparse, close-cropped hair and a pair of shifty, beady eyes.

His fawning gaze stayed glued to Bu Chen, but between his pleasantries, he shot Ruan Ning a wary glance, swallowing hard. Clearly, he had a secret to spill.

Ruan Ning felt uneasy just looking at him. He seemed familiar, but she couldn't place where she'd seen him.

Bu Chen, sharp as a tack, read Song Shao in an instant. He turned to Ruan Ning and said, "Go have fun. Wait for me downstairs."

"Okay." Ruan Ning nodded obediently and slipped away.

But after a few steps, she ducked behind a wall and pressed herself against it, straining to eavesdrop. Her gut told her something was off about these two.

She was sick of being pushed around by the rich. She'd grab any chance to get back at Bu Chen, and she was determined to find out what they were whispering about.

The two entered Bu Chen's room. In his haste, Song Shao didn't close the door all the way. Through the half-palm-wide gap, Ruan Ning crept close and listened.

Holding her breath, she strained every ounce of focus into her ears. Inside, one man was on the verge of tears; the other stayed calm and composed—a stark contrast.

"Chen-ge, Brother Bu, Lord Bu, my dear brother. Everyone knows you're a bodhisattva with boundless powers—praying to you beats burning incense at a temple. You have to help me out here. If you don't, I'm done for."

"What's the matter? Spit it out."

"It's that gold mine mess in Country B. A few commoners have shut down our operations, and now the whole country's in an uproar. My old man's hair went gray overnight. We racked our brains and figured only your esteemed father has the clout to fix this for the Song family. So I came crawling to you, shameless as it is. If you can squash this, I'd go through fire and water to repay the Duke's great kindness..."

Ruan Ning clamped a hand over her mouth, her mind reeling as if struck by lightning. She suddenly remembered who Song Shao was and clenched her fists in fury.

A while back, the cost of importing cotton and raw silk from Country A had soared, squeezing the Ruan family dry. After scraping together loans to buy materials and barely keeping the factory running, she now knew the culprit was right in front of her.

It all traced back to the Song family's Hongye Group, which ran mines in Country B—a former colony of Country A—thanks to their colonial-era connections. The group cut corners on safety, and recently a few Country B workers died in a collapse.

Had the Songs simply paid compensation, the matter would've blown over. But Hongye Group, still clinging to the arrogance of old colonial masters, refused to take responsibility for the victims' families. The scandal blew up, enraging the people of Country B.

The public there had long resented that their economic lifelines remained in Country A's hands. They'd only held their tongues because their government was pro-Country A and kept the lid on. The mine disaster lit the fuse, and massive strikes erupted across the country.

As a result, the price of Country B's exported cotton and raw materials spiked, and Ruan Ning's family saw their costs double overnight. That was why Ruan Dahong had to swallow his pride and beg a former enemy of his daughter for a loan.

So all the hardship Ruan Ning had endured lately traced back to that very room.

She already despised Hongye Group for grabbing and hoarding mineral resources that belonged to Country B's people, and for their callous disregard for life that had triggered the strikes choking her family's factory. Bu Chen was no better.

Bu Chen's father, the Minister of Economy and head of the Conservative Party, was a frontrunner for Prime Minister in the next election, wielding immense influence in political and military circles. If the Banting family stepped in, the righteous protests of Country B's citizens might well be crushed under the combined weight of Country A's politicians and capitalists.

For now, Hongye Group leaned on backing back home to hold the line against the daily tide of protesters. To truly resolve the crisis, they needed someone even more powerful. Hence Song Shao's desperate attempts to curry favor with Bu Chen.

Song Shao's lips were practically tied in knots as he hammered the same points over and over, swearing that if the Duke of Banting could settle this, the Song family would repay him even at the cost of their fortune.

Bu Chen kept his expression placid, gazing at the blubbering Song Shao.

Outside the door, Ruan Ning was frozen.

It was the first time in her life she'd witnessed political and business corruption up close. Steadying her trembling hands, she secretly recorded their conversation and snapped a few photos before tiptoeing away.

As she gripped the stair rail, she shook with a chill of fury. Were ordinary people's lives meant to be sacrificed in the machinations of the powerful, with no one to turn to for justice?

Her mind churned. As she walked, people smiled and greeted her politely. Ruan Ning nodded numbly, unable to hear her own replies, her vision swimming. She drifted like a ghost until she reached the noisy aft deck, where an open-air pool party was in full swing.

The music blared at full volume. People in swimsuits clustered around the pool on a late-autumn evening, chatting, playing cards, and gaming.

As Bu Chen's companion, Ruan Ning drew attention wherever she went. People spotted her approach and crowded over with warm greetings, eager to pull her into their games.

The yacht, the party, the food, the music—it all dazzled her. Before she knew it, she'd been coaxed onto a card table.

She hadn't wanted to play at first. These young lords and ladies had mountains of family wealth; she was just a girl from a small workshop, knowing full well how thin her pockets were. She politely declined, not foolish enough to sit at their table.

Someone in the crowd laughed and said, "Miss Ruan, go ahead and play. If you lose, I'll cover it."

It was the daughter of the majority shareholder of the Country A National Bank—the very bank that had issued Jiang Yihao's check. This heiress's fortune dwarfed that of the banker's daughter who'd bullied Ruan Ning by a hundred or even a thousand times. That bully, by comparison, couldn't even get close to the harbor where Bu Chen docked his yacht.

Unable to refuse, Ruan Ning sat down at the table. Bu Chen might come down at any moment, and she needed a perfect cover to hide what she'd just done.

She glanced around. Most of her tablemates were scions of wealthy families she'd heard of in the news. As she drew her cards, a dazzling diamond ring on the player across from her flashed so brightly she almost couldn't see her hand.

Everyone had a beautiful companion draped on them, or a playmate dealing cards, with a sugar daddy on hand to dote on their darling.

They cuddled and clung to each other, stealing kisses when they won. When a hand went well, a sugar daddy would scoop a handful of cash from the table and toss it to his darling. The syrupy atmosphere made Ruan Ning deeply uncomfortable, though the others seemed used to it.

Cards flew in a blur of numbers and suits, champagne arriving endlessly from the waitstaff, shouts and slaps of cards shaking the rafters. She had no idea how long she'd been playing. Someone lost the equivalent of a house in the blink of an eye, without so much as a twitch—as if they were betting scraps of paper, not money.

Sitting among these children of privilege, Ruan Ning felt a swirl of emotions.

Out there, ordinary folks scraped by, while the wealthy lived in a separate world, deaf to anything beyond their own pleasure and indulgence. Was that fair? She let out a small sigh.

After giving Song Shao a few more instructions, Bu Chen came downstairs. From a distance, he spotted Ruan Ning seated primly among his crowd of friends in the noisy throng, looking almost like she was attending a lecture. He found it oddly endearing.

He ambled over, weaving past heads that blocked his view of her.

"Chen-ge."

"Young Master Bu."

People smiled and parted a path as he approached. Bu Chen walked straight ahead, eyes fixed only on the woman at the card table.

Her face was striking and bold, yet her temperament was unexpectedly cool, tempering the overly delicate sharpness of her features. She was like a rose under a glass bell, blooming on a golden base with a charming blend of innocence and allure—proud, beautiful, thorned, and fragile.

Bu Chen had grown up navigating the world's rough and tumble. He could usually size up a person's motives at a glance.

But in Ruan Ning's eyes, he rarely saw greed or ambition—only a serene clarity, a detached observation, like a sliver of bright moonlight falling across a world of debauchery.

From the first, Bu Chen knew she belonged to a different world than his. Yet oddly, he found himself drawn to that other dimension.

Ruan Ning didn't notice his gaze from behind the crowd; all her attention was on the game.

The young lords and ladies were terrible players. She'd been carefully holding back, keeping a delicate balance of neither winning nor losing. By now, her hand was full of winners. If she played them, she'd wipe the floor with everyone at the table.

After a moment's hesitation, she broke up a perfect straight and tossed out a three.

"Three."

"Why not go for the straight?" Bu Chen's voice came from right behind her ear, catching her off guard. She turned to see him draping an arm around her shoulder as he sat down, his nose grazing her cheek. "Hmm?"