Chapter 2: Pursuing You

Mirage

The largest entertainment venue in River City.

Lights flickered, the music pulsed with energy.

Lin Ting, wearing a mask, stood by the sink in the restroom. After washing her hands, she shut off the tap and glanced at her phone for the time.

It was already past nine in the evening.

She had left the Lin family’s house more than two hours ago.

She’d been inside Mirage for almost an hour now.

So far, there had been no progress whatsoever.

As she considered her next move, she heard someone enter from outside. She turned her head to take a look.

A man, reeking of alcohol, staggered into the restroom. She said, “This is the ladies’ room.”

The man heard her but didn’t stop. Instead, a lecherous grin spread across his face. “Hey, beautiful, let’s have some fun tonight. I’ll pay. Name your price for the night.”

As he spoke, he lurched toward Lin Ting, reaching out to grab her shoulder.

Lin Ting twisted his wrist back in one swift motion. The man let out a cry of pain, cursing loudly.

At that moment, a voice crackled in Lin Ting’s earpiece: “Mumu, Shang Moting just left his private room. He’s a hundred meters from your location and coming your way.”

Lin Ting paused, about to throw the man to the floor, glanced at him for two seconds, then released him.

Out in the corridor—

Two men followed behind Shang Moting.

They had just left a private room, ready to depart.

Shang Moting glanced down at a message on his phone.

His features were sharply defined, the planes of his face severe, and his brow prominent.

Hearing hurried footsteps ahead, Shang Moting looked up.

Beneath heavy brows, his long, narrow eyes held a calm yet threatening intensity.

A young woman with loose hair was running toward him, glancing fearfully over her shoulder.

“Help! Help me!”

Chasing after her was a flushed, disheveled man, staggering as he ran.

As the girl neared, the two men behind Shang Moting stepped forward, putting themselves between her and their boss.

“Help! Please, help me!” Lin Ting rushed to them, shoving aside the man standing directly in front of Shang Moting.

The man staggered to the side, staring at Lin Ting in disbelief.

There was one more obstacle in front of Shang Moting.

Lin Ting, looking panicked, was about to push past the second man when he stepped aside on his own.

Lin Ting hurried behind Shang Moting, clutching his arm, pleading, “Please help me, save me, he—he wants to hurt me.”

Shang Moting tilted his head, looking down at the tear-filled eyes of the frightened, bewildered girl.

“You filthy whore! How dare you hit me? Come out! I’ll make you regret it tonight!” the man pursuing Lin Ting shouted.

“Help me,” Lin Ting clung tighter to Shang Moting’s arm.

But she was thinking: Why is he so tall? He must be at least six-foot-three. But he’s handsome—intimidating, but handsome. A thousand times more attractive than in the photos.

Shang Moting looked at her and said in a cool voice, “Noisy. Deal with him.”

“Yes, sir.” The man Lin Ting had pushed aside earlier moved behind the cursing drunk and dragged him away.

In an instant, the corridor fell silent, leaving only the distant pulse of music.

Shang Moting kept his gaze on Lin Ting.

She met his eyes for two seconds, then released his arm and stepped back. “Thank you.”

Her mask was gone, her hair a little messy, the picture of pitiable distress.

Shang Moting said nothing.

Lin Ting repeated, “Thank you.”

She took two more steps back, preparing to leave.

Shang Moting spoke. “After I save you, all you have to say is ‘thank you’?”

Lin Ting froze mid-step, her wide, reddened eyes blinking innocently at him. In a small voice, she replied, “I—I said it twice.”

A faint, unreadable smile tugged at Shang Moting’s otherwise impassive face.

But to Lin Ting, that trace of a smile was pure disdain—mockery.

She silently took note.

While she was mentally jotting down this grievance, Shang Moting suddenly stepped toward her.

Lin Ting’s eyes widened.

There was no denying it—Shang Moting’s presence was overwhelming. Coupled with those fiercely handsome features, the aura of dominance was suffocating.

Lin Ting took a step back.

But Shang Moting seized her wrist, pulling her aside. He raised her arm and pressed her against the wall.

The entire sequence happened in a flash.

As her back hit the wall, the butterfly knife in her right sleeve slid into her palm.

She gripped it tightly, keeping her hand hidden in her sleeve.

She looked up at Shang Moting, her eyes still red, her expression nervous and uneasy.

Shang Moting looked down into her eyes and said, “If you ask me for help, you have to pay a price.”

Lin Ting’s lips moved, her voice timid. “I—I can give you money.”

“Do I look like I need money?” Shang Moting asked.

Lin Ting was at a loss for words.

You look like you own all the wealth in the world.

“Then—what do you want?” she asked, frightened.

Shang Moting’s gaze grew suddenly interested as he stared into her glistening eyes. “What do you want?”

Lin Ting’s eyes flickered.

Instinctively, she slid the butterfly knife back into her sleeve.

Shang Moting tightened his grip on her wrist. “Your real purpose.”

Lin Ting fell silent, reflecting.

Was her acting really so poor? Had she been seen through so easily?

“Are you here to get something from me, or to kill me?” Shang Moting asked.

His oppressive aura pressed down on her, shadowing her completely.

She met his eyes. After two seconds, all the feigned emotion vanished. She lifted her left brow ever so slightly. “What if I said… I want to pursue you?”

Shang Moting was taken aback for a moment, then released her wrist and took a step back.

Lin Ting rubbed her wrist. “What’s wrong? Scared?”

Shang Moting let out a short laugh. “If you have the nerve, follow me.”

With that, he walked away.

The man who had been standing to the side quickly followed.

Lin Ting watched his retreating figure, then took out her phone and sent a message.

[Abort.]

After sending it, she jogged a few steps to catch up with Shang Moting.

He glanced at her.

She flashed him a smile. “So, where are we going next?”

“Hotel,” Shang Moting replied.

Lin Ting nodded. “What’s your name? How old are you? Are you local? I’m Lin Ting, nineteen, born and raised in River City.”

Hearing her age, Shang Moting paused.

She stopped as well. “What is it?”

He looked at her, said nothing, and continued walking.

His stride was so long, Lin Ting had to take two steps for each of his.

She picked up her line of questioning. “You don’t really sound local—your accent’s more like someone from the capital. Are you here for fun? Visiting friends? Or is it for work? If you’re here to play, I can show you around…”