Chapter Forty-One: The Reincarnation of a Starving Ghost

In the haze of her thoughts, Mai Xijun was always haunted by the illusion that the man from that night in Venice would return to find her. She could not say for certain, but she often had a vague and fleeting sense that he was near, perhaps even right by her side…

A woman’s instinct told Mai Xijun that this necklace was a token, and that there must be another half somewhere. Was it given to her by that man out of necessity? Otherwise, he would never have entrusted it to her. But since it belonged to someone else, should she sell it? Perhaps, once he found out, he would come to reclaim it.

After quietly analyzing for a long time, Mai Xijun studied the necklace closely. It was indeed extraordinary, and she found herself strangely reluctant to part with it. Its unique design centered on the pendant—a tiny lock, oddly shaped, with sharp yet smooth lines, beautifully angular but never harsh, as if sculpted yet perfectly harmonious.

She put the necklace away again and lay under her covers, wishing she could sleep until dawn, to wake naturally after a long rest.

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The night had deepened, but for some, it was only the beginning of the day.

Inside a villa opulent as a palace, a man lounged with his legs crossed, arm stretched along the back of the sofa. His expression was calm and impossibly cool, as if he begrudged even the use of his facial muscles; a smile would seem to pull at seventy or more of them.

“How is Lu Chengfeng now?” His lips parted slightly, but his expression betrayed no ripple of emotion, the question drifting into the air as if conjured by a ghost.

“He lost a card game to Shen Yanlie at the Dynasty Club…” The man sitting opposite spoke slowly, though the rest of his words caught in his throat.

“He lost miserably, I assume?” The first man sounded as though discussing something inconsequential, unimportant.

“Yes. By tomorrow, or at the latest the day after, the Lu Corporation will vanish entirely from the market.” The respondent bowed his head, though he too sat on the sofa; his demeanor, however, was deferential, respectful—like a subordinate before his superior.

“No possibility of recovery?” The man cocked his head in suspicion, drawing a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it, all the while observing the other’s expression.

“None. He always acts decisively, leaving no loose ends. He never leaves an opening for reproach.” The composed man’s face was marked with resolve, which, in turn, drew a rare smile from the other—so fleeting it vanished before it had fully formed. “From your tone, it sounds like you admire him?”

“I…”

“Hush! No need to explain.” The man cut him off. “He’s treated you well, I know. As a friend, he’s worth your trust. But he’s my rival. Shaoxing, you must weigh your loyalties carefully.”

With that, he flicked the ash from his cigarette, pinched the butt between two fingers, and returned it to his lips, inhaling slowly. “He’s striking at the Lu Corporation with such force because Yu Wensi once suffered a defeat at their hands. Now he’s simply biting back. But, Shaoxing, with your understanding of him, tell me: considering all the friction between us, how do you think he’ll deal with me?”

“…I advised him before not to target LOV, and he agreed, but I doubt it’ll be so simple. You’d best be cautious. Though I’ve spent a long time at his side, I can’t fully predict his methods. Still, I suspect his attack on LOV won’t last long.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

The man’s quiet question hung in the air, the room falling deathly silent.

“Shen Yanlie, will I lose to you again?” he muttered inwardly. Only when the cigarette burned down to his fingers, scorching them, did he snap back to reality.

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Mai Xijun tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Was it anxiety? Or was it the feeling that something was about to happen?

Shouldn’t a rare holiday bring peace and relaxation? Yet she was restless, unable to find sleep.

Outside, the wind howled, seeping through the window she hadn’t fully shut, stirring her curtains. The wind was rising—was the weather about to change?

Suddenly recalling the laundry she had hung on the balcony, Mai Xijun got up, smoothed her hair, and headed out.

But as soon as she opened her bedroom door, a shadow darted in front of her. She barely had time to scream before a hand clamped over her mouth.

“It’s me!” The shadow held her tightly, one arm around her waist, the other pressed over her lips. In the dead of night, with the world so still…

Had he startled her? In truth, she had startled him as well; he hadn’t expected her sudden appearance.

Shen Yanlie watched as Mai Xijun calmed, then slowly released her.

The scene was achingly familiar—so much so that all they could hear was each other’s heartbeat, so familiar that in the darkness, neither could make out the other’s features.

She left the lights off, aware of her night blindness; sudden brightness would only disorient her. In this familiar space, she preferred to move by touch.

But this moment, this aura, this atmosphere—it pulled her back to the memories of that night in Venice.

Perhaps sensing her daze, Shen Yanlie paused, then turned to close the balcony window. “You lock the front door but forget the balcony, you careless woman!”

He closed the window, turned back, and tapped her lightly on the forehead—a gentle, affectionate gesture. Mai Xijun lowered her eyes, lost in thought.

The voice? The aura? The feeling? The scene?

He was forceful yet gentle, burning with passion, while the man from Venice had been cold, even ruthless. Beyond wealth, they had nothing in common… Or was it simply that longing had woven these illusions, making her mistake fantasy for reality? No matter how many dreams he inspired, they were only dreams. Their personalities were worlds apart—how could it be possible? But the words he spoke when she first met him…

“Why are you here again in the middle of the night?” Mai Xijun challenged, but Shen Yanlie ignored her, making his way into her bedroom.

“Nothing much. I saw you’d locked the front door up tight, so I decided to climb in via the balcony.” Shen Yanlie spoke lightly. He found the switch and turned on the lights. Spotting what was on the table, his brows drew together. “Up in the middle of the night eating instant noodles? Are you possessed by a starving ghost? If you’re hungry, can’t you cook yourself something decent?”

Shen Yanlie’s words were laced with suppressed anger.