Xingwang Hotel
Chapter 344: Bet
Everyone had left the room.
Only Wen Jianyan and Bai Xue remained standing in place, silent.
The air seemed to be filled with a kind of silence that was on the verge of eruption.
Ever since the last person had exited the room, Bai Xue had once again lowered his gaze.
He stood expressionlessly in the corner of the room, as if he had already merged with the shadows. His doll-like, indifferent face resembled a faded white sheet of paper, exhibiting a color and texture that appeared almost inhuman.
Similarly, Wen Jianyan had yet to utter a word. However, his silence was due to a more complex reason.
In the “Integrity First” live broadcast room:
[Eh? I really didn’t expect that in the end, the anchor would actually choose to stay in the same room as Bai Xue!]
[I thought the anchor planned to stay alone at first. Why did he suddenly change his mind? I have a feeling he’s scheming something…]
[Speaking of which, have you noticed? Ever since everyone else left, the anchor’s complexion seems a bit off.]
[Seems like it, indeed.]
[Also, what’s up with his clothes? Is it just me, or does something feel off?]
The damp and cold shirt clung tightly to his warm skin. Between the contrast of cold and heat, a tiny gap was pried open, allowing the agile darkness to seep in instantly. It slithered along the smooth and taut contours of his skin, winding its way upward—
“Mm!”
Caught off guard, a suppressed groan escaped from under Wen Jianyan’s tongue, only to be quickly bitten back between his teeth.
“……”
Not far away, Bai Xue, standing in the corner, slightly moved his eyelids as if he had heard something.
Silently, he lifted his eyelashes and prepared to look in that direction.
Wen Jianyan: “Excuse me, I need to go to the restroom.”
His speech was fast, as if in a hurry.
By the time Bai Xue looked over, he only caught a fleeting glimpse of Wen Jianyan’s hastily retreating figure, almost as if he were fleeing.
“Bang!”
The next second, the restroom door was slammed shut with great force, producing a loud noise that shook the walls.
Inside the room, only Bai Xue remained. He stared in a daze at the direction where Wen Jianyan had disappeared, and the air instantly fell into a deathly silence.
Behind the closed restroom door, Wen Jianyan immediately turned on the faucet.
The rushing sound of water splashing into the sink echoed within the narrow, enclosed space. However, before he could take any further action, an invisible force abruptly pushed him against the wall!
In the next moment, a pair of icy lips passionately pressed down upon his own.
“Mm-mm!”
Wen Jianyan’s chin was lifted, his lips forced apart.
His disheveled collar loosened slightly, revealing a small patch of damp skin, which glistened with warmth under the light.
At the junction of his throat and collarbone, the tension in his breathing caused a slight depression, accentuating a faintly arched and delicate curve. Shadows drifted between the creases of his clothing and his skin, rubbing out a hint of flushed heat.
“Mm-mm—”
Before Wen Jianyan, there seemed to be nothing tangible. Yet, from a third-person perspective, he was unmistakably pinned against the wall.
His spine was pressed tightly against the cold surface, his toes dangling. His entire body seemed to be lifted by some invisible force, barely able to touch the ground.
His brows furrowed deeply, and saliva trickled down the corner of his lips.
Between his slightly parted lips, a glimpse of his neat, white teeth could be seen, along with the moist tip of his tongue, which was being stirred and pressed by an unseen force.
The mirror embedded in the wall reflected the true scene unfolding in the room.
A tall, black-haired man was holding the young man up against the wall with one arm wrapped tightly around his waist, tilting his head as he kissed him.
Wu Zhu did not like closing his eyes while kissing.
His golden eyes were locked onto the human before him, like a predator, capturing every minute change in the other’s expression, missing not a single detail.
Cold water gushed from the faucet, splashing noisily into the sink, its persistent sound filling the restroom.
Apart from that, all the subtle noises in the space were drowned out, sealed within the tightly shut door. Unless someone pressed their ear against it to listen closely, it would be difficult to discern any nuances.
Time passed, second by second.
It was unclear how long had gone by when, finally, the force holding Wen Jianyan loosened.
Losing support, Wen Jianyan’s knees buckled, and he nearly collapsed onto the floor.
Wu Zhu took the opportunity to reach out again, pulling him back into his embrace.
The mirror reflected the young man’s face, flushed as red as spilled blood.
Perhaps due to oxygen deprivation, the vivid crimson hue spread from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears and even down to his neck and the exposed portion of his chest beneath his disheveled collar. His eyelashes trembled slightly, and beneath them, his eyes were moist and unfocused. He parted his lips, gasping for breath.
His lips, softened and heated from friction, faintly revealed his tongue, which had also been reddened by the previous exchange.
“……”
Wu Zhu’s golden irises flickered slightly.
He lowered his head and once again leaned in closer.
“Hey.”
Wen Jianyan’s voice was hoarse, nearly unrecognizable from its usual tone.
His gaze shifted slightly, peering through the gaps of his eyelashes.
“Don’t push your luck.”
To avoid being overheard by those outside, his voice was soft, interwoven with uneven breaths, as if it would be scattered by the wind at any moment.
A faint layer of moisture coated his golden-brown irises, making them appear slightly dazed.
Yet beneath that seemingly fragile exterior, there was an undeniable dominance.
“…I only agreed to let you do this once.”
Previously, in the hallway of the framing shop, Wen Jianyan had promised Wu Zhu that next time, he could “kiss however he wanted.” That was the only reason he had refrained from resisting this time.
Wu Zhu paused and stopped.
Wen Jianyan pushed away the hand supporting him, straightened his posture, wiped the moisture from the corner of his lips with the back of his hand, and took a slow, deep breath.
It was not that he was particularly “faithful to his word”; rather, as long as the other party remained useful… it was best to maintain his credibility for now.
Otherwise, he might not be able to command him later.
Wen Jianyan lifted his gaze and glanced at the reflection in the mirror.
Wu Zhu stood to the side. Although he had been prevented from taking further action, his gaze remained fixed on Wen Jianyan’s lips, displaying an intense, almost unwavering focus.
Wen Jianyan: “…”
Should he be grateful that this fragment had little intelligence? It was much easier to predict than the main body.
“Are you certain you cannot be seen?” Wen Jianyan stared at Wu Zhu’s reflection in the mirror, lowered his voice, and asked.
Wu Zhu nodded.
“Not even by a medium?” Wen Jianyan continued his questioning.
“……”
This time, Wu Zhu’s gaze shifted.
He seemed to realize whom Wen Jianyan was referring to, and his eyes lifted slightly, meeting the human young man’s gaze in the mirror.
“!!”
Although the other party’s expression remained largely unchanged, nor did he say anything, the instant their eyes met, Wen Jianyan’s heart skipped a beat—he instinctively sensed something.
Almost without thinking, he reflexively blurted out, “…I have nothing to do with him!”
Wu Zhu’s expression in the mirror remained impassive, yet the previously cold and oppressive aura seemed to ease slightly.
Wen Jianyan turned around, reaching out toward the empty space before him.
His hand pressed against Wu Zhu’s chest then moved upward to his shoulder and his neck, and finally, he cupped his face. Smiling brightly, he gazed at him unblinkingly and spoke in a sweet, coaxing tone, “I like you the most.”
Beneath his palm, the cold cheek seemed to quiver for a brief moment.
Wen Jianyan could sense Wu Zhu slightly lowering his head, gazing at him from the void.
“Alright, now answer my second question,” Wen Jianyan said.
“Besides me, can any other human see you or even perceive your presence?”
The head in his hands shook from side to side.
Wen Jianyan slowly exhaled, a deep, unreadable emotion flashing across his eyes—not entirely relief, yet not quite tension either.
“Alright, I understand.”
He turned and twisted the faucet shut.
The sound of running water ceased.
Wen Jianyan reached for the door handle, ready to push it down when his gaze caught Wu Zhu moving to follow behind him.
He quickly said, “Wait.”
Wu Zhu lifted his eyes, glancing over through the mirror, looking somewhat puzzled.
“You stay here.”
Wu Zhu blinked and took another step forward, as if prepared to follow Wen Jianyan wherever he went.
Wen Jianyan pondered for a moment, then a smile flickered across his lips. He suddenly whispered, “If you stay here, I’ll like you a little more.”
“……”
Wu Zhu hesitated, pausing mid-step.
“Good.”
Wen Jianyan turned, patted his hand reassuringly, and smiled, “I’ll come find you once this is over. Until then, just wait for me here, alright?”
Wu Zhu gazed at him but did not respond.
Wen Jianyan opened the door and stepped out.
The restroom door closed behind him.
This time, Wu Zhu did not follow.
Outside the room.
Bai Xue was no longer in the same corner as before.
He now sat by the window, fully engrossed in a deck of playing cards from an unknown source.
One by one, he placed the cards on the table, then picked them up again, his expression focused, as if he had completely immersed himself in a world of his own, shutting everything else out.
Wen Jianyan stood still for a moment, contemplating, then walked toward Bai Xue.
Without speaking, he pulled out the chair opposite Bai Xue and sat down.
The room was enveloped in silence, with only the faint rustling of cards brushing against the table.
“Let’s play a game,” Wen Jianyan said, his eyes fixed on Bai Xue.
The sound of shuffling cards paused momentarily.
Bai Xue still did not lift his gaze.
“The rules are simple.”
Wen Jianyan reached over and gathered Bai Xue’s scattered cards with nimble, practiced movements, stacking them neatly in front of himself.
“A game of high card.”
“Like this.”
As he spoke, he casually drew a card from the deck and placed it face down in the center of the table.
“What do you think? Want to give it a try?”
Bai Xue did not respond.
Instead, he nonchalantly drew a card from his own hand and placed it at the center as well.
A faint smile tugged at Wen Jianyan’s lips. “Alright, let’s reveal them together.”
Both flipped their cards simultaneously.
Wen Jianyan’s card was a 3 of diamonds.
Bai Xue’s card was a King of hearts.
“Ah, I lost.” Wen Jianyan sighed, though his voice carried no real disappointment.
Bai Xue reached out to retrieve his card, but before he could, the other corner of the card was pressed down by the young man across from him.
“So,” Wen Jianyan asked, “do you want to keep playing?”
“……”
Bai Xue lifted his eerily dark eyes and looked at Wen Jianyan across from him.
The young man’s lips carried a hint of a casual smile, his slightly damp hair brushed back, giving him a relaxed and untroubled appearance.
“But this time, let’s add a little wager,” he blinked.
“Without stakes, what’s the point of the game?”
“What wager do you propose?” Bai Xue finally spoke, his hoarse voice posing his first question of the night.
Wen Jianyan thought for a moment. “Hmm… how about three questions?”
“Questions?”
Bai Xue stared at him intently.
“Yes, questions,” Wen Jianyan said, his lips curving into a smile.
“If I win, you answer three of my questions—just ‘yes’ or ‘no’ will suffice,” Wen Jianyan toyed with the cards in his hand. “If you win, you can also ask me three questions. However, I will answer without reservation, giving you everything you wish to know.”
His eyes curved into a smile. “How about it? Sounds like a great deal, doesn’t it?”
For Bai Xue, this was indeed an advantageous trade.
After all, yes-or-no answers held significantly less value than open-ended responses.
“Are you in?” Wen Jianyan pressed.
“……”
Bai Xue remained silent for a long moment before nodding.
“If we’re playing seriously, we should reshuffle the cards,” Wen Jianyan said with a cheerful smile, extending his hand.
Bai Xue handed him the deck.
Wen Jianyan combined both piles, shuffling them with practiced ease. His fingers, slender and pale, moved with fluid elegance as he performed the task.
Soon, he finished shuffling and divided the deck into two equal stacks—one for himself and one for Bai Xue.
“Same rules—highest card wins,” Wen Jianyan explained. “However, to prevent ties, we’ll introduce a suit ranking system.”
“If the numbers are the same, clubs outrank diamonds, diamonds outrank hearts, and hearts outrank spades. How about that?”
Bai Xue remained silent for a moment before nodding again.
“Alright, let’s begin.”
Wen Jianyan narrowed his eyes, picked up his deck, and flashed a smile at Bai Xue.
Then, the game began.
One by one, they drew their cards and placed them face down on the table. Upon flipping them over, the higher-ranked card determined the winner—if Wen Jianyan won, the card went to the left pile; if Bai Xue won, it went to the right.
In the silent room, the only audible sound was the faint rustling of playing cards.
In the “Integrity First” live broadcast room:
[This is so weird. Why are they both wasting time playing cards in an instance? Shouldn’t they be conserving their energy?]
[Yeah, seriously. The tone shift is so abrupt.]
[And honestly, I have no idea why the anchor would play this game against Bai Xue… Not only is it dumb and pointless, but he’s guaranteed to lose!]
As time passed, the number of cards in each pile steadily increased.
However, the right-side pile was visibly larger.
Wen Jianyan had only half his deck remaining.
He lifted his gaze, pausing briefly on Bai Xue, a faint smile ghosting over his lips.
He drew a card and placed it face down on the table.
Bai Xue remained silent for a few seconds before mirroring the action.
This time, when the cards were revealed, the winning card was added to the left pile.
The audience watching the live broadcast quickly sensed that something was off.
[Wait… why do I feel like something weird is happening?]
[Yeah, me too.]
[A moment ago, the right pile was clearly bigger, but now… the two sides seem nearly equal!]
[Hold on, is there some trick to this game? I seriously can’t figure out what’s going on!]
One by one, the cards continued to be placed on the table.
The number of cards in the players’ hands steadily dwindled, while the pile on the table grew at an accelerating rate.
Visually, it became difficult to determine whether the left pile or the right pile was larger.
Soon, Wen Jianyan and Bai Xue each had only one card left.
Wen Jianyan maintained his usual nonchalant demeanor, as if he had no concern for the outcome. Lazily, he placed his final card face down on the table.
………………
Bai Xue lowered his head, his gaze fixed on the last card in his hand. His dark eyelashes cast shadows against his bloodless, porcelain-like face.
For a long while, he remained silent.
Finally, he placed his final card on the table.
Wen Jianyan reached out, ready to flip it over—
But the next second, Bai Xue’s voice broke the silence.
“There’s no need.”
He lifted his gaze, those abyss-like black eyes locking onto the young man before him.
In a low, hoarse voice, he slowly said:
“You win.”
Before Wen Jianyan could say anything, Bai Xue spoke again:
“How did you do it?”
In the “Integrity First” live broadcast room:
[?]
[Wait, what? What does that mean? Did the anchor actually win? Did he really win?]
[And it seems like Bai Xue doesn’t even know how the anchor won… What on earth is going on?]
“Ah, I won?”
Wen Jianyan blinked, though he did not appear particularly surprised.
He curved his eyes into a smile:
“Oh dear, oh dear, it was just luck.”
“How did you do it?” Bai Xue fixated on Wen Jianyan, stubbornly repeating the exact same question.
“A bet is a bet.”
Still smiling, Wen Jianyan neatly stacked the cards before him. “Once you’ve answered my questions, I’ll give you the answer you’re looking for.”
“A fair game, isn’t it?”
“……”
Bai Xue stared at the young man before him without blinking. His expression remained impassive as he maintained his silence for several seconds before finally nodding.
“Good.”
Wen Jianyan set the cards aside and lifted his gaze to Bai Xue.
Under the dim light, his pale eyes shimmered with a hint of something indecipherable. The faint smile on his lips never quite faded as he slowly raised a single finger:
“First question.”
“You’re not actually a medium, are you?”
In an instant, the air in the room turned deathly still—thick and suffocating, as though filled with a viscous substance that rendered breathing difficult.
Even in the live broadacst chat, the atmosphere seemed to freeze, leaving the screen momentarily blank.
Bai Xue: “……”
His bloodless face remained devoid of expression, like a doll stripped of all emotion. His pitch-black eyes stared unblinkingly at Wen Jianyan.
After a long silence, he slowly nodded.
Wen Jianyan raised a second finger:
“Second question.”
“Back when we left the framing shop, you tried to harm me, didn’t you?”
His voice was calm, devoid of any fluctuation.
During their escape from that street, Wen Jianyan—his head covered by a red bridal veil—had suddenly collided with a corpse that had begun to move without warning.
That impact caused his lips to be exposed from beneath the veil, neutralizing the item’s protective effect. At the same time, the human-skin garment he was wearing began to awaken, nearly costing him his life.
It was important to note that the self-moving corpses were confined to the latter half of the street. In the final stretch of their escape, where the boundary between reality and illusion blurred, those lifeless bodies should have remained motionless—unless they detected the presence of a living human.
This was no accident.
Initially, Wen Jianyan had suspected it was orchestrated by the Black Team.
After all, based on the clues available, Anise’s abilities were most likely related to spirit manipulation.
It was plausible that this was a trap left behind as an act of revenge.
The reasoning was sound, so Wen Jianyan hadn’t questioned it further.
However, after becoming an official employee and meeting the Black Team in person, he realized something was wrong.
First—an ability of that magnitude shouldn’t be effective from such a long distance. If it were, it would be far too overpowered.
Second—when they saw him, none of them displayed the slightest shock or frustration.
Wen Jianyan was highly sensitive to such details and was rarely mistaken in reading people’s reactions.
In other words, they had known all along that Wen Jianyan and his team would escape that street alive.
It was impossible that they had deliberately set up a trap guaranteed to let their enemies walk free.
This lingering doubt had remained buried in Wen Jianyan’s mind.
He hadn’t yet pieced together the full answer, but he was not the type to overlook even the most inconspicuous inconsistencies.
Then, just moments ago—
In that fleeting instant before they chose their rooms.
The scattered clues he had previously ignored suddenly fell into place. Fragments of seemingly unrelated information connected into a coherent pattern, forming an extraordinarily bold hypothesis.
And so, at the last second, Wen Jianyan changed his mind.
Rather than sleeping alone, he chose his roommate for the night.
This time, the silence stretched even longer.
Wen Jianyan fixed his gaze firmly on the white-haired boy across the table. His expression was composed and focused, not missing even the subtlest shift in Bai Xue’s features.
The dim lighting cast elongated shadows.
The room was engulfed in absolute stillness.
Perhaps it was an illusion, but for the first time—
Bai Xue smiled.
Then, once again, he nodded.
“Yes.”
Oooo I didn’t expect that!! Miss the intelligent Wuzhu xd