Volume One, Chapter 20: Who Do You Think You Are!

“I’m not going. I still have to safeguard the company,” Jiang Chen said as he scooped a bowl of rice, his eyes alight with passion for his work—though he seemed to have forgotten he’d already been absent from work for several days.

Ning Rou replied noncommittally, “That’s fine. Then pack up and move out today.”

“Huh? Don’t be like that, I was just saying. Besides, you’re part of the company too—protecting you counts as work,” Jiang Chen relented.

Ning Rou suddenly realized that the man before her wasn’t entirely without merit; at the very least, he was obedient—and formidable.

The whole day, Jiang Chen and Ning Rou shuttled back and forth between the police station, most of it spent interrogating Jiang Chen. After all, Ning Rou herself was just a kidnapping victim, her involvement limited to being a hostage.

Jiang Chen was another matter. He had killed Chen Shu. There was no problem with the procedure, given the emergency at the time, so the questioning now was largely perfunctory.

Without Jiang Chen, they never would’ve subdued Chen Shu—perhaps the entire team would have been lost. The entire police force, from the chief to the lowest ranks, was grateful to him.

Chief Zhao Xin and Team Leader Wu Wei, afraid Jiang Chen might go hungry, even sent people out to buy plenty of food.

That afternoon, as the two left the police station, Ning Rou checked the time. “There’s not enough time. I’ll go back and change first.”

Jiang Chen nodded, an ice cream he’d just taken from the police fridge hanging from his lips.

After agreeing on a meeting place, Ning Rou hurried off and hailed a cab.

Seeing Ning Rou leave, Su Yike smiled and quickly came down from the second floor of the police station.

“Little Master, come with me to a party tonight! I’ll take you somewhere with delicious food,” she said expectantly, sitting on the steps beside Jiang Chen.

A while ago, Jiang Chen might have agreed, but he’d already promised Ning Rou. He couldn’t be in two places at once—after all, even the doppelganger technique of Dragon Tiger Mountain produced only lifeless puppets.

So he declined, “Maybe next time. I have something to do tonight.”

Su Yike didn’t press. After all, the two were just friends now.

“Then… next time, if you’re free,” she replied, a little disappointed. Though the words were meant for Jiang Chen, it sounded more like she was comforting herself.

At eight in the evening, Jiang Chen arrived at the place Ning Rou had mentioned.

He wore a tracksuit, standing a short distance away from the venue—the most luxurious hotel in Qingcheng, the Kaier Grand Hotel.

The Kaier’s décor was identical to the style of Batteria—distinctly Western. But as Jiang Chen looked around, he noticed that while many guests wore suits and gowns, there were also those in traditional Chinese dress. The attire wasn’t strictly formal; rather, everyone seemed more intent on displaying their personal flair.

Jiang Chen’s tracksuit made him stand out like a sore thumb.

Yet he had seen his share of high society. In the tropical jungles, he had outwitted drug lords; in the intricate games of society, he had moved unseen. The last time he’d attended a gathering like this was at the founding of the Dark Hall, when dignitaries from various nations and ancient families had come uninvited, bearing gifts to celebrate his new order.

As he remembered this, he realized it had been quite some time since he’d returned to that island, independent from all the world’s governments.

“I wonder if those guys miss me—or even think to give me a call. Heartless bunch,” he mused. Just then, an armful of clothing appeared in his hands.

A girl stood beside him, her style fresh and innocent. “Take care of my coat, please. I’ll come collect it after the party.”

Jiang Chen looked at her, bewildered. “Miss, have you mistaken me for someone? Do I look like a staff member?”

Jiang Ning examined him briefly, then pulled a bank card from her pocket. “A hundred thousand. Keep my coat safe for the night. Any problem?”

Jiang Chen’s face shifted from stern to friendly. “No problem at all—it’s just a coat. Rest assured, it’s in good hands.”

Who would refuse money? He was flat broke—he’d needed Su Yike to pay for a simple chicken wrap earlier. His master had told him never to let women spend money for him, to be self-reliant. Yet, as the saying went, even a hero is helpless without money, so he took the card.

Jiang Ning wore a long white dress, the breeze causing the hem to flutter gently. Her features were delicate, her eyes clear and untroubled. Even as she handed him the bank card, it was simply the fair thing to do—pay for a service, treat people as equals.

Jiang Chen looked into her eyes, calm as spring water, and for a moment, was lost.

Under the intensity of his gaze, Jiang Ning lowered her head. “Is there… something on my face?” she asked softly.

“No… nothing. You’re just so beautiful, I couldn’t help stealing a few glances. If I’ve offended you, I apologize,” Jiang Chen replied, a little embarrassed.

Jiang Ning smiled and waved it off, her tone gentle. “No need. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

The atmosphere grew a little awkward, so Jiang Ning took the initiative. “Are you waiting for someone? Why don’t we go in together? You can’t get in without an invitation, but if you’re with me, no one will mind.”

Jiang Chen had indeed had enough of waiting outside. “Well… thank you.”

“No need to be so polite. By the way, my name’s Jiang Ning—as in ginger.”

“I’m Jiang Chen—as in river.”

With Jiang Ning leading the way into the banquet hall, all the security staff they passed stepped aside for her. Jiang Chen benefited from her presence.

“Jiang Jiang! Over here!” a group of young girls called out from a distance. They were about the same age as Jiang Chen and Jiang Ning, and judging by their enthusiasm, he guessed they’d known each other a long time.

Jiang Ning smiled at them, then turned to Jiang Chen. “Could you hold my coat for me? I’m going to chat with my friends. Wait for me at the door when the party’s over.”

Jiang Chen made an “OK” gesture and sensibly went to help himself to the buffet.

He wasn’t picky about food—his only criteria were that it was edible, and nothing was wasted. He remembered hiding alone in a tropical swamp, surviving on dirty water. Back then, he’d longed for just a bowl of rice. To this day, he always finished everything on his plate; if he couldn’t, he’d take it with him.

“Where did this bumpkin come from, stuffing his face like that? Must be someone’s servant,” a man scoffed, his voice full of disdain. He wore a black suit and a gold pocket watch on his chest.

“Brother Zhou, don’t stoop to his level. Who knows what he did to get in here? On such a good day, it’s not worth it,” Ma Minglong said.

Just then, Ma Minglong felt a chilling sense of danger. In the next instant, a vivid handprint appeared on his face, stinging so badly he cried out.

“And who do you think you are, to talk about my friend like that?”