All the bosses followed Mr. Liu upstairs.
Afterwards, the ten bodyguards split into two groups. Five of them—including Mr. Liu’s two personal bodyguards—went up together, while the remaining five stayed downstairs in the central hall to guard the rest of the captives.
Meng Fushan naturally stayed among the crowd. Leaning against the staircase railing, he wanted to fish a cigarette out of his pocket; his fingers flexed inside, but he slowly pulled them back out empty.
Was that Silver Mask really Huo Ranyin?
If so, how was he going to clear this stage?
Did Ji Xun know that Huo Ranyin had appeared here? Was this another one of Ji Xun’s backup plans?
Then, Ji Xun… where are you right now?
Mr. Liu’s exclusive Level 3.5 was a space where every detail of decoration and furnishing showcased his personal taste. Western court paintings and Eastern samurai helmets were scattered haphazardly about, yet without feeling cluttered—a testament to the owner’s ingenious touch in seamlessly blending two completely contrasting styles.
Mr. Liu’s waiting room was spacious enough that even with the various bosses seated, plenty of room remained.
Unlike the other bosses who found seats, the Silver Mask walked over to a corner of the room and began admiring a set of porcelain resting on a shelf.
The inner walls of this porcelain set were a natural milky white, while the outer walls were painted with colorful patterns—an ukiyo-e depiction of a golden temple engulfed in a blazing fire.
“You like porcelain too?” a voice came from beside him.
The Silver Mask turned his head to see that, at some point, Mr. Liu had approached him. As the focal point of everyone’s attention, Mr. Liu’s arrival naturally drew all eyes toward them.
“Not particularly, just seen a bit of it in passing,” the Silver Mask replied.
“Do you know what kind of porcelain this is?” Mr. Liu asked, signaling that the Silver Mask could pick it up and take a closer look.
“The ceramic color is a natural milky white, with great translucency.” The Silver Mask picked up the burning-temple porcelain cup and held it up to his eyes. “It’s bone china, isn’t it?”
Mr. Liu smiled faintly, approval flashing in his gaze. “Spot on.”
“What’s bone china?” The Short Boss wasn’t afraid of exposing his own ignorance; after all, human knowledge was vast, and who could possibly be omniscient?
“It’s porcelain fired with the addition of cattle and sheep bone powder.” Answering the Short Boss was the Radish Boss. He seemed to have quite a bit of knowledge about bone china and reached out toward the cup in the Silver Mask’s hand. Unfortunately, his ten fingers were swollen from illness, making them look all the more coarse and blunt—a stark mismatch against the delicate, exquisite porcelain.
The Radish Boss looked at his own hands, then at the slender fingertips of the Silver Mask, which complemented the fine porcelain so perfectly. With a regretful sigh, he withdrew his hands, signaled for the Silver Mask to keep holding it, and began to explain:
“To judge the quality of bone china, you look at whether the color is pure, whether its translucency is good, and whether the sound it makes is crisp. Judging by this cup…”
The Radish Boss had the Silver Mask hold the bone china cup against a lightbulb, then gently tapped the rim. Seeing how soft and lustrous it looked—like congealed milk, yet as thin as gauze under the light—and listening to the sound that rang out like jade being lightly struck, he clicked his tongue in high praise:
“Simply a masterpiece of bone china! This is my first time seeing such perfect porcelain; it puts my entire room of collections to shame. Which master artisan made this, I wonder?”
“Maybe it’s just the materials,” the Silver Mask chuckled.
“That’s possible too,” the Radish Boss nodded repeatedly. “Materials even better than cattle and sheep bone powder…”
“Human bones.”
“…”
The room seemed to fall silent for a moment.
Yet the Silver Mask acted completely unfazed, his tone remaining breezy: “Humans are the spirits of all living things. Human bones must surely be better than chemical products and the bones of cattle and sheep. A cup like this… perhaps it absorbed a human soul just to radiate such a beautiful luster. Don’t you agree, Mr. Liu?”
“If you ask me,” Mr. Liu replied, “that’s a rather nice thought.”
Just as he said this, a bodyguard who had gone to the reception room to prepare stepped out. “Sir, it’s ready.”
“Then everyone, let’s begin now,” Mr. Liu said to the group, his gaze shifting to land on the Silver Mask. “This gentleman, would you like to go first?”
“I’m a newcomer, young in age, and everyone here is my senior,” the Silver Mask politely declined. “Please, everyone else go first. I’ll gladly accompany you at the very end.”
Mr. Liu did not object.
With a beaming smile, he made a polite gesture toward the Radish Boss standing nearby.
The Radish Boss gave a slight bow and entered with Mr. Liu.
One by one, the bosses in the waiting room went inside, and once they entered, they didn’t come back out. Of course, it wasn’t as if Mr. Liu was swallowing them up one by one; clearly, the reception room had another door, and the bosses who went in must have left through that other exit!
Seeing the people around him dwindle, the Short Boss shuffled over to sit beside the Silver Mask.
“First time here?”
“First time.”
“And you run straight into a situation like this,” the Short Boss sighed. “Bad luck.”
“Misfortune is what happiness leans upon; happiness is where misfortune crouches.”
“?”
“On the surface it looks like bad luck, but looking deeper, that might not be the case.”
“Say, little brother,” the Short Boss couldn’t help muttering, “I’ve been wanting to say this for a while: seeing how unfazed and chaos-loving you are, you wouldn’t happen to be mixed up in the underworld on the outside, would you? Getting excited when you see corpses, happy when you see blood?”
“…”
“No need to say, no need to say. Rest assured, I have no intention of prying into your real identity.” The Short Boss changed the subject. “What kind of person do you think Mr. Liu is?”
“The owner of the ship,” the Silver Mask replied evasively, unsure of what the Short Boss was driving at.
“Splendid.” Unexpectedly, the Short Boss gave a light clap. “Well said. He’s just the owner of the ship.”
With that, the Short Boss, who had just sat over, stood up with crisp efficiency and walked away.
Now it was the Silver Mask’s turn to be slightly perplexed. As his thoughts spun around a few times, understanding dawned, and a faint smile touched his lips:
Tit for tat, eh? At the beginning, I didn’t want to engage with him and threw out an ambiguous proverb, so he played a riddle with me too—Mr. Liu is just the owner of the ship, not our owner. He only cares about the vessel, not us. Therefore, we shouldn’t completely follow Mr. Liu’s words; we need to unite properly…
Not long after the Short Boss left his side, the entire waiting room was left with only the Silver Mask. The already sizable space felt all the more vast and empty now—empty and quiet to the point where he could hear his own heartbeat gradually speeding up.
The closed door of the reception room opened once more with a bang, like a mallet striking against his heart.
The bodyguard stepped out. “Sir, please.”
The Silver Mask didn’t stand up immediately.
He crossed his arms, tucking his palms beneath his elbows, gripping his arms silently but tightly.
“Sir?” The bodyguard edged closer.
Not the guard stationed at the reception room door, but one of the bodyguards scattered throughout the waiting room. These men had heavy, bulging shapes at their waists; every single one of them was armed with a gun.
He couldn’t stall any longer.
The Silver Mask stood up.
He stepped into Mr. Liu’s reception room.
The bodyguard followed him inside, closed the door, and took a stand behind Mr. Liu.
Aside from the bodyguard who had opened and closed the door, there was another guard stationed permanently at Mr. Liu’s back.
Those two men… one could tell at a glance that they were fully armed and battle-hardened.
To take them down in a 1-on-2 scenario, a sneak attack might work; in a direct confrontation, with nothing suitable at hand, the odds of winning were truly slim. Of course, if he could just get his hands on a gun…
With a gun in hand, he could come and go freely anywhere on or off this ship.
Unfortunately, security inspections on the vessel were simply too rigorous.
If things turned hostile in a moment, the cover and paths of survival in this room…
“Please have a seat,” Mr. Liu said, pouring him a cup of tea.
It was nothing more than the courteous request to take off his mask.
The Silver Mask lowered his gaze to look at the clear tea for two seconds, raised his hand, and removed his mask. Then, as he looked up again, he caught the momentary constriction in Mr. Liu’s pupils…
