Lu Sheng stood frozen, completely stunned.
Mountain-Edge City and Nine Links City were worlds apart. A single restaurant here could rival ten from Nine Links City—and there were fifteen of them lined up before his eyes. The sheer extravagance of it all was staggering. Even if the entire Lu Family sold off every asset they owned, it still wouldn’t be enough to purchase a single one of these establishments.
It wasn’t just about the silver on the surface. To open a restaurant in such a place required deep dealings—hidden negotiations, favors, and influence that no amount of money alone could secure. The cost would easily soar past a million taels of silver notes, more than half of everything the Lu Family possessed.
This—this was what true tyranny looked like.
In that instant, Lu Sheng finally understood the meaning of “money means power” and “money makes the world go round.” He also understood, bitterly, what it meant to be a mere man-pet.
Money aside, the real power lay in Old Master Chen’s reach. His connections were vast and intricate; simply standing under his shadow could grant access to martial arts manuals, tonics, medicines—everything one could dream of.
Mountain-Edge City was no ordinary place. It stood as a strategic fortress between the Northern lands and the Central Plains, a linchpin town where the city lord reported directly to the highest levels of the Court. To be counted among its wealthiest was to wield both power and privilege unimaginable to someone from Nine Links City.
Old Master Chen’s influence stretched far beyond what Lu Sheng had imagined. He was certainly not the mediocre man that arrogant Young Master had made him out to be the day before.
Now, with Chen Yunxi standing before him—her expression steady, her feelings laid bare—Lu Sheng felt something stir in his chest. He knew that for a woman in this era, even one as bold as her, to confess so openly required immense courage.
He drew in a quiet breath, gazing at the girl who stood within arm’s reach.
“You keep these first.”
Chen Yunxi hesitated, her eyes flickering between Lu Sheng and the merchant deeds in her hands. Then, with a small, determined motion, she bit her lip lightly and tucked the deeds away.
“Brother Lu, you…”
“It’s not that I don’t have feelings for you,” Lu Sheng interrupted softly, his voice trembling as though forcing the words out. “Others might see your legs as a defect—a deformity given by the gods. But to me… they’re the most beautiful part about you.”
The words burst out before he could stop himself. He had to say them, had to release the truth weighing on his heart.
At first, Chen Yunxi thought he was merely trying to comfort her. But when her gaze met his, when she saw the earnest gleam in his eyes, her heart skipped. His tone wasn’t pity—it was genuine.
“But,” Lu Sheng continued, his tone shifting like a sudden gust breaking still air, “Chen Yunxi, are you sure you really know me? Do you truly understand the kind of person I am? We’ve only known each other for a few months. The side of me you’ve seen is just the one that exists in school. You don’t know the other parts of me—and there are sides of you I don’t fully understand either. I don’t want my future other half to regret her decision when she discovers who I really am.”
In truth, those words were his shield—a way to protect her from stepping into his turbulent world.
His life was nothing close to ordinary. He had the Modifier. He had faced Demonic Ghosts, creatures that twisted reality itself. Danger lurked behind every shadow he walked past.
He needed to grow stronger—fast. Living as a blissfully ignorant mortal, relying on others and sheer luck for survival, was not an option. He wanted to seize control of his destiny, to become master of his own fate in a world where darkness clawed at every corner.
Such a path, however, left no room for attachments. Marriage, affection, even love—these were weaknesses that could break a man before his journey was done.
Yet, when he finished speaking, Chen Yunxi didn’t look dejected. Instead, her eyes gleamed like starlight breaking through mist.
Brother Lu doesn’t care about wealth or power… Yunxi knew she hadn’t chosen wrong.
Her gaze, luminous and unwavering, met his without hesitation—eyes deep and bright as if they could pierce through every layer of his guarded heart.
“Since Brother Lu is not willing to agree for now, Yunxi will listen to you. I’ll do my best to get to know you better in the future—to know everything about you, and to accept everything about you!”
Once she finished speaking, she gave a soft “ciao”, turned around, and darted off, her flushed face hidden behind both hands.
Lu Sheng stood there, watching her retreating figure disappear into the distance, at a loss for words.
Was that… counter-productive?
He sighed and shook his head helplessly before returning to the study hall for the rest of the day’s lessons.
The hours slipped by without notice, yet there was still no sign of Wang Ziquan. Concerned, Song Zhenguo even made a trip to the rental house where Wang was temporarily staying—but found it empty. The two agreed that if Wang still didn’t appear by morning, they would search for him together.
Night passed quietly, and dawn arrived with the faint tolling of the morning bell. As usual, Lu Sheng stepped into the study hall just in time. Elder Lu had already begun the day’s lesson—but Wang Ziquan’s seat remained empty.
When attendance was taken, Elder Lu’s brow furrowed.
“Where is Wang Ziquan?”
A thin, frail-looking student stood up hesitantly. “My rental house is close to his. Last night, there were no lights in his room. Seems like he went out.”
“Went out?” Elder Lu’s frown deepened. “Did he return to his hometown? Even if he did, he should have applied for leave! Ridiculous! Does he think he can ignore the Annual Examination recommendations now?”
The Annual Examinations were of utmost importance—only students officially recommended by the Institution could participate. A lackluster record or poor conduct could easily result in being removed from the recommendation list, effectively ending one’s academic prospects.
From his seat, Song Zhenguo murmured under his breath, “The Annual Examinations are so close… there’s no way Wang Ziquan would be this careless.” He quickly stood up. “Elder Lu, perhaps something urgent happened. I know his cousin in the city—let me check with him later.”
“Mm, go ahead,” Elder Lu replied, a faint note of approval in his tone. “It’s good for schoolmates to look out for one another.”
With that, the matter was set aside, and the lesson continued under the gentle rustle of turning pages and the faint scratching of brushes on paper.
Lu Sheng glanced toward Song Zhenguo, noticing the faint crease between his brows — a sign of worry that mirrored his own. Wang Ziquan’s absence lingered heavily in both their minds. Lu Sheng’s thoughts drifted to the pleasure boat he had visited the other night; perhaps Song Zhenguo might know something that could shed light on the matter.
The hours crawled by until the end of the school day. For Lu Sheng, the lessons were effortless. With his background as a research student in his past life, the lectures here were child’s play.
Song Zhenguo, on the other hand, struggled to concentrate once distracted. Even after the final bell, he remained hunched over his desk, carefully organizing his notes and rewriting Elder Lu’s lecture line by line.
“Brother Zhenguo,” Lu Sheng said quietly as he approached, “I feel something’s off. Normally, Wang Ziquan is extremely cautious and disciplined. Among us, he’s the most serious about his studies. How could he possibly miss two days of lessons in a row?”
Song Zhenguo capped his ink and set aside his brush. A shadow of doubt crossed his face. “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” he replied. “That’s why I’ve decided to go find out.”
“Let’s go together. I’m worried too,” Lu Sheng said firmly.
Song Zhenguo looked up in surprise. Earlier that day, he had quietly asked around among his usual circle of friends. Yet the moment he mentioned Wang Ziquan’s disappearance, they all backed away—each with their own excuse, none willing to get involved. Their indifference had left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He hadn’t expected Lu Sheng to step forward instead, offering his help without hesitation.
“That’s good. Wait a bit for me, Brother Lu. I’ll just pack up my things.”
“Sure.”
After gathering his notes and brushes, Song Zhenguo joined Lu Sheng, and together they left the Institution. Outside, a horse carriage awaited them. They climbed aboard, and soon the wheels clattered against the cobbled road as they sped toward the city.
Neither spoke much during the journey. Both wore the same troubled expression, their thoughts occupied by the same question — for someone like Wang Ziquan, who valued the Institution’s Annual Examinations above all else, vanishing without a word was simply unthinkable.
At a small cosmetic powder stall along Gold Origins Street in Mountain-Edge City, the air was filled with the faint scent of jasmine and crushed petals. Amid the colorful display of jars and silken pouches, Lu Sheng and Song Zhenguo finally found Chen Hong — Wang Ziquan’s younger cousin. Despite his tender age, the boy carried himself with surprising maturity, managing his own stall with brisk energy.
“Elder Cousin Ziquan? No… if he wanted to go back home, he’d usually stop by here first,” Chen Hong said, his brow furrowing in thought. “He always asks if I’ve got anything for him to bring along—books, clothes, little things like that. But now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him these past few days. Didn’t Elder Cousin usually hang out with you, Brother Song?”
Song Zhenguo’s face clouded with worry. He exchanged a quick look with Lu Sheng.
“Yeah, we used to spend time together,” Song replied. “But we haven’t seen him for two days now, so we came to ask if you’ve heard anything.”
Chen Hong tilted his head, then snapped his fingers as though remembering something. “Oh, right! Elder Cousin did stop by my place the night before yesterday. He asked me for a few jars of high-grade fragrances and some cosmetic powders.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Honestly, I’d say eight out of ten chances he’s fallen in love! The scents he picked were the kind that girls like—sweet, flowery ones. Tsk tsk…”
“The night before yesterday? What time?” Lu Sheng cut in sharply, his expression tightening.
“Around the Chou hour—so maybe one or two past midnight,” Chen Hong replied, rubbing his chin as he recalled. “It was really late. I was already asleep when he came knocking. He woke me up and insisted I fetch the items for him. Ai, because of that, I still remember it clearly. Fragrances and powders at that hour… tsk tsk…” He chuckled, the knowing smile of a man teasing another’s secret.
Song Zhenguo stood frozen, his brows knitted deeply. There was something about the story that didn’t sit right with him.
Lu Sheng, however, had already pieced together a grim suspicion. His heart sank as cold understanding began to take shape.
Seeing the shift in Lu Sheng’s expression, Song Zhenguo understood without a word. He turned to Chen Hong and said hurriedly, “Thanks for your help, Brother Chen. We’ll be taking our leave.”
With that, the two stepped away from the fragrant stall, the faint scent of powder lingering in the air as they disappeared into the bustling street.
Outside the stall, Song Zhenguo grabbed Lu Sheng by the arm and pulled him into a quiet corner of the bustling street. The noise of merchants and passersby faded beneath the weight of his anxious voice.
“Yue Sheng, tell me quickly—have you thought of any leads?!” he demanded, his tone tense. “Wang Ziquan didn’t even tell his own cousin anything. And the night before yesterday—wasn’t that the same night we were drinking together at the pleasure boat?”
Song Zhenguo’s face was pale, his brows tightly furrowed.
Lu Sheng met his gaze squarely, his expression equally grave. “Zhenguo, I actually went back to the pleasure boat that same night after we left.”
Song Zhenguo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Yue Sheng, you went back? Why? It was already so late—the boats should’ve been closed by then, right?”
“They were,” Lu Sheng replied quietly, his voice low and steady. “I only went back because I left my money pouch on board. I thought I could slip in and find it quickly… but I didn’t expect what I saw.”
Song Zhenguo’s throat tightened. “Didn’t expect what?” he asked, his tone dropping with the unease creeping in.
“The entire pleasure boat was empty. Not a single person in sight,” Lu Sheng said slowly, his eyes narrowing as he recalled the scene. “Red lanterns were hanging everywhere—more than before. I went straight to the room we had been in. Two large lanterns were lit inside, but no one was there. Not even the cleaners. I found my pouch on the floor, and then I left immediately.”
The color drained from Song Zhenguo’s face. “No one there… could it be…” He suddenly remembered something and muttered, “Could it be that Wang Ziquan went to find his cousin that night to buy fragrances and powders for the women at the pleasure boats? But if you went back too, then why—”
“It’s absolutely possible,” Lu Sheng cut in firmly. “There’s no point in guessing anymore. Let’s go straight to the pleasure boat and ask.”
Song Zhenguo nodded without hesitation.
Without another word, they hailed a horse carriage and set off toward Cypress Pine Lake. Dusk had just begun to fall, painting the sky in muted golds and purples—the hour when the city’s nightlife awoke.
The streets grew livelier as they approached the shimmering waters of the lake. Lanterns floated on the surface like drifting embers, and laughter echoed faintly across the breeze.
With practiced familiarity, Song Zhenguo led Lu Sheng toward a large vessel moored near the pier. Carved pillars, silk curtains, and a signboard with elegant calligraphy marked its name—Ying Ying Pleasure Boat.
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and then Add to home screen.