Those who love speed will always love speed — and the rush of wind and machine cutting through space at full force. In the western outskirts, the sports cars burned through curve after sharp curve on the mountain road.
Just below the summit, the roof of the lead car — Ling Yun's — began folding back with fluid, mechanical elegance.
Seconds later: a convertible. Ling Yun's silhouette blazing in the open air.
"Holy—! That's it — that's so unbelievably cool!" Right behind him, Gu Junbao's shock gave way to instinct as his own hand hit the convertible control. His car transformed mid-race too.
"Only Ling Yun would think of this — haha, we're brothers, we do it together, you think I'm sitting this out."
With a shout of enthusiasm, Shen Chengze and Xie Lesheng's cars followed suit.
"God, the audacity!"
Chen Jun, watching from just behind them, thought his eyeballs were going to fall out. These were the most outrageous, most alive rich kids he had ever seen in his life.
"Calm down. You'll see more things that defy explanation. This is a small case." Having watched Young Lord Ling long enough, Luo Hu understood and explained.
"The things rich people do!" Chen Jun muttered.
Luo Hu gave him a dry look and didn't answer, picking up the radio instead. "All units — Young Lord Ling and company have reached the summit. Estimate descent in under a few minutes. Conceal vehicles. Maintain protection."
"Boss — copy." The visible unit directly behind.
"Unit Two — copy." The shadow unit, which had gone ahead to the other side of the mountain to establish control, acknowledged. They had already been running a second sweep of the surrounding area since the radio came through. All hazards had to be cleared before Ling Yun descended.
Confirming all teams were at their posts, Luo Hu put down the radio — just in time for Chen Jun to ask quietly: "Boss… is Young Lord Ling difficult?"
"Jun — focus on the road. Keep the speed up. Don't fall behind. And don't talk about Young Lord Ling behind his back." This wasn't Luo Hu — it was Ma Hui, the one who'd been sitting silently in the front passenger seat the whole time.
"Got it."
Chen Jun gave a subdued acknowledgment and redirected his attention entirely to the wheel.
Through the rearview mirror, Luo Hu watched Chen Jun for a moment. His eyes were deep.
Summit. A synchronized screech of brakes. All four cars stopped together.
Under a cloudless sky, a soft wind rolled over them — rippling clothes, lifting hair. Nobody moved. They just sat in their cars looking out at the distant mountain ridges. The sun was already tilting far to the west. It wouldn't be long before it disappeared into those hills, and the real night began.
"Ling Yun — really not coming to the bar with us tonight?" After a good while, Gu Junbao asked lazily from his reclined seat.
The question brought Shen Chengze's and Xie Lesheng's eyes to Ling Yun's back as well.
Having all come in behind Ling Yun yet again, there was nothing for it — they could only look at his back while he faced forward. Another loss. Gu Junbao and the others exhaled their irritation.
"Not going. You all have fun. Put it on my tab."
Ling Yun looked back at the expectant eyes of his friends. A flicker of genuine guilt moved through his own.
Then it was gone. White truffle was worth a small betrayal. He'd make it up to them with a nice bottle of liquor sometime soon.
"You sure you have something on?"
"Really do." Ling Yun kept a perfectly sincere face.
The friends exchanged a look. They thought about Ling Yun's true background. They thought about how, at a moment like this, going out and drawing attention was probably the wrong call — one encounter with an ill-timed journalist and it'd be a whole headache. Better to stay low for a bit. When things settled, they'd meet up again.
That settled it. The three of them nodded in understanding.
"Fine. Different day, then. Catch you later." Seeing his friends accept it, Ling Yun glanced at his watch, found the time right, and was already saying goodbye as he pressed the starter.
Vroooom —
The car was already hundreds of meters away before anyone had processed the lack of a proper farewell. Gu Junbao and the others, the words so long stuck in their collective throats, all raised middle fingers in unison at the retreating exhaust pipe.
Friends. Sure. Didn't think to ask us for help when things went wrong. And now won't even give us a full goodbye.
Luo Hu and his team, pulling out right behind Ling Yun, caught four raised middle fingers and four expressions of pure scorn. Every Jiang family bodyguard maintained an expression of complete impassivity.
Ah. Their Young Lord Ling had flown too fast. They'd been caught in the crossfire.
Ling Yun had no concern for the consequences falling on Luo Hu's team. His foot was steady and heavy on the accelerator — the sports car flew from summit to base in mere minutes, leaving the shadow unit at the foot staring in stunned silence.
Was that even human?
Beyond the shock — genuine, cold dread.
The road was steep, narrow, and full of switchbacks. A veteran driver would bring full concentration to this descent. Young Lord Ling had just burned through it like a game.
If anything went wrong, the Fourth Master would hold them personally responsible. Serving as Jiang family security was hard enough. Protecting Young Lord Ling seemed even harder.
Realizing this, the shadow unit cursed their luck internally while keeping pace.
At seven in the evening, as the sky turned to a wash of deep orange, Ling Yun's car rolled back through the Jiang estate gates. The butler watching from the courtyard finally let himself breathe.
He turned and made his way happily toward the kitchen to supervise dinner preparations.
"Assistant Fan — where's Xiuqing-gege?" Ling Yun stepped into the living room and spotted Fan Zhengqing right away.
"Young Lord Ling is back?" Fan Zhengqing conducted a discreet scan — no scratches, no bumps — before breaking into a smile. "Young Lord Ling — the Fourth Master is still in the study, finishing some documents. He should be down in a few minutes."
"Still working? Alright — I'll go shower first."
After a whole afternoon of driving, Ling Yun had no intention of sitting down to eat without washing up first. He started bouncing up the stairs — then stopped halfway and turned.
Fan Zhengqing, who had been watching him go, responded immediately. "What is it, Young Lord Ling? Anything you need?"
Ling Yun studied Fan Zhengqing's respectfully attentive expression for a second. Then he smiled — bright and perfectly pleasant. "Fan-gege — if you're not too busy, have dinner with us tonight."
"Ah? Alright — sure."
He didn't know why Ling Yun wanted him to stay for dinner, but Fan Zhengqing agreed.
"Great — see you in a bit, Fan-gege."
Ling Yun waved and floated back up to his room.
But the moment he stepped inside, the smile dropped. Looking at this room he knew every corner of, he felt a headache building. Why hadn't he moved to a separate bedroom sooner? After today's near-catastrophe, how was he supposed to face Jiang Xiuqing across a pillow? How was he going to share a bed?
He stared at the enormous bed and swallowed. The worry lines on his face deepened.
"Fourth Master — Young Lord Ling asked me to stay for dinner." Fan Zhengqing appeared in Jiang Xiuqing's study, arms full of documents.
Jiang Xiuqing didn't answer right away. The pen kept moving for a moment longer, then stopped. He looked up at Fan Zhengqing. "Since Ling Yun wants you there — stay for dinner tonight."
Small requests like that, he never went against.
"Good — then I'll be imposing on the Fourth Master tonight." Now that he'd checked with Jiang Xiuqing, Fan Zhengqing relaxed. Both of them were difficult in their own way — he couldn't afford to displease either.
"Has Ling Yun come back?"
Jiang Xiuqing set down his pen and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. He'd been working all afternoon and his eyes were tired.
"Fourth Master — Young Lord Ling is back, but it seems he went straight to his room." Fan Zhengqing chose his words with care.
"Mm. Let's wait in the dining room." Jiang Xiuqing glanced at the unsigned stack Fan Zhengqing was still holding, stood, and let himself go — because what he wanted most right now was to see Ling Yun the moment he came down.
"Yes, Fourth Master." Fan Zhengqing fell in behind him.
"Xiuqing — where shall I set dinner?" The head butler appeared at the foot of the stairs as Jiang Xiuqing descended.
Jiang Xiuqing considered the evening sky outside, then said: "Set it in the outdoor terrace. Lights, and several blocks of ice — Ling Yun runs warm." On a summer evening, the best cooling for an outdoor dinner was the old-fashioned method — blocks of ice, ambient light, no noise.
The butler nodded and moved to organize the terrace service with the household staff.
"Xiuqing-gege —" From somewhere in the direction of the outdoor terrace, a long, familiar call drifted near and grew louder. Jiang Xiuqing dropped his pen and rose to meet it, catching the figure that launched itself at him and rotating half a turn to absorb the force, then drawing the person down to sit. "Sweetheart — how was the afternoon?"
He'd already had a rough summary from Luo Hu, but he still wanted to hear it from Ling Yun himself.
"Xiuqing-gege — the specs are unbelievable!" Ling Yun had infinite things to say about the new car.
Watching Ling Yun's animated, glowing retelling, Jiang Xiuqing took the warm, damp cloth a servant had just brought, and gently wiped Ling Yun's hands clean, then his own.
Fan Zhengqing had already, from the moment Ling Yun launched himself at Jiang Xiuqing, very tactfully packed up his documents and taken the appropriate seat at Jiang Xiuqing's other side. This wasn't his first dinner at the main house. He knew exactly where he belonged.
Ling Yun finished his car monologue at roughly the same moment the dishes arrived.
"Ling Yun — hungry? Shall we start?" The butler, impeccably white-gloved, stood at the table smiling at Ling Yun — the posture of a man ready to lift the covers at any moment.
"Steward — I'm hungry, let's start!" The sight of several chefs in formation behind the butler made Ling Yun's eyes light up. His grip tightened on the cutlery.
"Sweetheart — since you're calling me gege now, you can't keep calling Steward Jiang grandfather." Jiang Xiuqing spread the napkin over Ling Yun's lap and offered the gentle correction.
"Then what?" Ling Yun looked at Jiang Xiuqing.
"Steward Xian." Fan Zhengqing supplied helpfully from the other side.
"Oh right — I should call him Steward Xian." It made sense — if he was now generationally level with Jiang Xiuqing, he should use the same form of address. "Steward Xian — hello." Knowing he'd been wrong and correcting himself immediately, Ling Yun addressed the butler with real, courteous weight.
"And hello to our Ling Yun." The butler's eyes crinkled to slits with sheer delight — all the steadiness and authority gone, replaced by an expression like a doting parent looking at a beloved child.
"Steward Xian — let's eat."
The evening had come down around them, but the terrace was warm with lamplight — tiny golden flames scattered across the area, and in their soft glow the outdoor space felt intimate and breathtaking.
"Right — let's eat. I'm hungry."
He'd turned down dinner with friends for this. The anticipation had been building for hours.
