***
Bonus chapter! Thank you to Min for the donation! ^^
***
"BANG—!!!" The force behind the kick was tremendous, making the entire office door shudder violently from the impact.
Ruan Qing stared at the buckling door, instinctively taking two steps back in alarm. His delicate face showed clear unease and hesitation.
If the original owner's former sugar daddy had been the one to end things, there wouldn't be a problem.
But the issue was—the original owner had been the one to dump him. Not just that, he'd done it abruptly, sending only a single text message before cutting ties.
And then... immediately latched onto Lin Zhiyan afterward.
Even if the sugar daddy hadn't truly loved the original owner, no man could tolerate such an insult. It would seem like a blatant betrayal, a slap to his pride and dignity.
This was something no man would ever accept.
There was absolutely no way the ex-sugar daddy could find him in Lin Zhiyan's office—no, he couldn't even be discovered on this ship at all.
Aside from the deck, the only hiding spot in the office was beneath the desk.
As the door groaned under another impact, Ruan Qing swiftly and silently darted behind the desk, slipping underneath it. On the way, he snatched up the documents about himself that had been left on the desk.
Lin Zhiyan's desk was massive, easily concealing Ruan Qing's slender frame.
Clutching the papers tightly, he steadied his breathing, making not a single sound.
***
"BANG—!!!" The door finally gave way, crashing against the wall with a deafening slam.
Footsteps followed as several men entered the office.
The one in front wore a black suit with an insignia on the chest—a closer look would reveal it matched the emblem of the Malegobi cruise ship. Clearly, these men were closely tied to the ship.
When the black-suited man saw the empty office, he turned to the aristocratic figure behind him and spoke cautiously, "Mr. Qi, it seems Mr. Lin isn't here."
...Mr. Qi?
Ruan Qing, hidden under the desk, stiffened. The original owner's ex hadn’t been surnamed Qi—had he mistaken the voice?
Come to think of it, hadn’t Lin Zhiyan left earlier precisely because something had happened involving this "Mr. Qi"? Had the two men missed each other?
The ship had multiple elevators; it wouldn’t be strange for them to have passed each other going opposite directions. All he could do now was hope this man would leave quickly once confirming Lin Zhiyan's absence.
However, Ruan Qing's hopes were dashed.
The man addressed as "Mr. Qi" by the black-suited bodyguard swept a casual glance around the room, his voice elegant and refined. "Call him back."
"Understood, Mr. Qi." The black-suited man bowed slightly before quickly exiting.
Though the office had plenty of seating in the reception area, the man ignored it and instead walked toward the desk.
It was already late at night, and with the tenth floor nearly empty, the silence was almost suffocating. In such stillness, the man's unhurried footsteps were unnervingly loud—each step taut against the nerves.
Ruan Qing's heart nearly stopped when he heard the footsteps approaching.
Had… he been discovered?
Though this man's surname differed from his ex-sugar daddy's, his voice was uncannily similar—that same polished, aristocratic tone. A resemblance in voice alone could be coincidence, but matching in both timbre and cadence? That was nearly impossible.
Ruan Qing tightened his grip on the documents, his slender fingers whitening from the pressure. He lowered his gaze, concealing the unease in his eyes.
At most, the man might have realized someone was hiding under the desk—but he shouldn’t know who. If Ruan Qing covered his face and knocked the man out before being seen, he might still conceal his presence on the ship.
He remembered an ornate vase on the desk. If he struck fast and hard enough, it could easily incapacitate a grown man.
As for the surveillance cameras… he trusted Lin Zhiyan, his current benefactor, would handle that.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The footsteps grew closer, each one laced with an inexplicable tension.
The man had reached the chair by the desk—so close that Ruan Qing could clearly see the man's straight, immaculately tailored trousers.
Just as Ruan Qing prepared to strike, he froze.
Something was wrong.
There had been more than two people entering earlier—but only one set of footsteps had left.
There was definitely more than one person in the office.
Ruan Qing's hair stood on end, and he immediately abandoned his earlier idea.
If it had just been the man alone, he might have had a chance to knock him out—but with multiple people, there wasn’t even a sliver of hope.
Worse, it could provoke the man’s anger.
Clenching his jaw, Ruan Qing stayed perfectly still under the desk, bracing himself for the worst.
…Yet it seemed he had misjudged the situation.
The man didn’t bend down. Instead, after approaching the chair, he simply sat down.
Ruan Qing stared blankly at the long, well-proportioned legs now in front of him. His tightly balled fists loosened slightly, and the tension in his chest eased a little.
The man probably hadn’t noticed him—he had just sat down, likely to review the documents on the desk.
Just as Ruan Qing guessed, the man leaned back in the chair and picked up the files, flipping through them with an air of indifference, as if he owned the place.
He wasn’t alone. Three other men in black suits stood nearby, clearly his bodyguards.
Yet no one made a sound. The only noise in the office was the rustling of papers as the man read.
Perhaps uncomfortable in his seat, the man shifted slightly, crossing one leg over the other.
Ruan Qing’s eyes widened as a foot suddenly came into view. Instinctively, he jerked his head back to avoid it—
But he was already wedged into the corner beneath the desk. The movement made his head bump against the wooden panel with a soft thud.
The sound was faint, but in the dead silence of the office, it stood out.
Ruan Qing’s heart leaped into his throat, and he held his breath.
The others in the room heard the noise but paid no mind. After all, the man was lounging with his legs crossed—it wouldn’t be strange if his foot had accidentally knocked against the desk.
Only the man paused mid-page. A flicker of doubt crossed his sharp eyes.
…Had he really kicked the desk just now?
The man stretched his legs slightly. Given his height, even this small movement of just a few centimeters made his foot bump against the desk panel with a loud thud.
Clearly, the desk was right at his feet—he must have accidentally kicked it earlier.
The man dismissed that faint suspicion and continued flipping through the documents in his hands.
Ruan Qing, watching those legs mere inches away, broke out in a cold sweat. Fortunately, the man didn’t seem to suspect that someone might be hiding under the desk.
The live-stream audience had been holding their breath just like Ruan Qing. But when the man remained oblivious, they couldn’t help feeling oddly disappointed.
[This guy doesn’t seem too bright. Can’t he tell whether he kicked something or not? How did he miss our wifey?]
[I feel kinda bad… but I lowkey wanted him to find wifey? Since when did I become like this?]
[Uh… same? I just really wanna see my wife’s reaction if he gets caught.]
[It’s totally different, though. For other players, getting caught means instant death—maybe not even a whole corpse left. But if my wife gets discovered? The whole vibe would shift from horror to a romantic showdown. That’s a whole new genre.]
Time ticked by until Lin Zhiyan finally returned.
Seeing his kicked-in door, Lin Zhiyan’s gaze turned icy as he scanned the office. When he noticed only the seated man and the black-suited bodyguard inside, his eyes paused briefly, subtly checking the rest of the room.
After confirming there were no signs of struggle, his expression softened slightly. He addressed the seated man politely.
“My apologies for keeping you waiting, Mr. Qi. There was an urgent matter I had to attend to.”
The man set down the documents and looked up at Lin Zhiyan. “About today’s incidents—don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”
Lin Zhiyan remained unruffled under the man’s scrutiny. Calmly, he replied, “We’ve already investigated. The guest who died this afternoon had been overworking for an extended period. His body was severely exhausted, and the excessive excitement triggered a sudden cardiac arrest.”
His reasoning was airtight. Under extreme fatigue, intense emotions could indeed lead to a fatal collapse.
Yet the man’s expression remained indifferent, his tone edged with displeasure. “And the one tonight? Was he also ‘overworked’?”
“No.” Lin Zhiyan shook his head faintly, his tone laced with regret. “The evening guest had a preexisting heart condition.”
“Our policy explicitly prohibits passengers with serious illnesses from boarding. However, this guest concealed his condition.”
“As you’re aware, Mr. Qi, with this many guests, it’s impossible to verify every individual’s medical history.”
Lin Zhiyan finished speaking and slightly lifted his chin, signaling to the staff member behind him.
The staff member immediately stepped forward and respectfully placed the documents they were holding in front of the man. "Mr. Qi, these are the profiles of the two guests."
The man glanced at Lin Zhiyan before picking up the documents.
The files contained detailed information about the two guests—far from just basic summaries. They even included photographic evidence: pictures of the guests working overtime, visiting the hospital, and even copies of their medical records.
The level of detail was unsettling.
Either Lin Zhiyan had powerful enough connections to obtain such thorough guest records on short notice, or this information had been gathered in advance.
Either possibility was alarming.
Yet no one present seemed to find anything unusual about it—as if it were perfectly normal for Lin Zhiyan to procure such exhaustive documentation in just over ten minutes.
The man appeared to accept Lin Zhiyan’s explanation and the authenticity of the files. After skimming through them, he set the documents down and stood up, heading for the office door.
But as he passed Lin Zhiyan, he tilted his chin up slightly and remarked in a languid, aristocratic tone, "What kind of man wears perfume?"
His voice was calm, devoid of obvious mockery—yet every syllable dripped with it.
Lin Zhiyan: "?"
