Lin Cheng and Lu Xiaoxiao’s story began right at eleven o’clock. Lin Cheng easily shifted the topic away from the heavy trolley problem to the latest popular music, then delved into folk songs, poetry, Gu Cheng, and from Gu Cheng to Hai Zi. Before long, they were chatting about Sartre and Camus. Eventually, he didn’t even need to pour his own drinks anymore—the tipsy Lu Xiaoxiao poured them for him herself. Then… they headed together to the nightclub next door. It was Lu Xiaoxiao’s first time there. She started out reserved, but as Lin Cheng pulled her into his arms and stroked her waist, she gradually relaxed.
At two-thirty in the morning, Lin Cheng rode his motorcycle to take Lu Xiaoxiao home. Lying drunk on the bed, Lu Xiaoxiao stripped off her own clothes. In the moment when their cheeks were just a centimeter apart, she leaned in herself, offering lips as pure and soft as flower petals. Then… Lin Cheng pushed her away.
After that, Lin Cheng woke up.
“Soft and fragrant,” Lin Cheng murmured, lifting his cheek from Litchi’s chest. He reached out and poked her forehead. “The rest of the memories aren’t suitable for kids—little ones aren’t allowed to see.”
Litchi fixed him with a gaze full of resentment. “Do you have anything else to explain?”
“She kissed me first. I… was pretty passive.” Lin Cheng gazed back at her innocently. “I’m innocent.”
“Wasn’t it you who told her it’s dangerous for a girl to walk alone at night? Heh, you knew full well she’s an ability user. How could she possibly be in danger?”
“Yeah, and she knew it too. But she chose to come home with me anyway.” Lin Cheng settled into the chair and blinked his innocent eyes. “She was wasted by then. Dealing with her would’ve been a hassle for our bar’s security team. As the boss, I was just looking out for my staff—it saved the guards a ton of trouble.”
“You still dare say that!” Litchi lifted her leg. This time, she wasn’t aiming for his toes. From the looks of it, she meant to kick him square in the face. Lin Cheng hurriedly grabbed her calf. “Whoa, don’t—hey, last night we drank way too much. People don’t have any reason when they’re drunk. Nothing they do while wasted should count once they’re sober.”
Her leg was still in his grasp, and Litchi’s cheeks flushed faintly. “Let go, you perv.”
“Next time you wear a skirt, don’t lift your leg that high. Hold on, though—I haven’t seen you in a skirt in ages. Aren’t you usually rocking that sporty girl vibe? What made you switch to skirts all of a sudden?”
“None of your business.” Litchi turned her face away, though she sneaked another glance at him.
Her cheeks tinted pink, but Lin Cheng wore a look of utter bafflement. “Wait, does nineteen-year-old you finally realize you’re actually a youthful beauty?”
“Go to hell.”
Lin Cheng released her calf, his fingertips still tingling with the lingering warmth from brushing against her white silk stockings.
Litchi slid back into the seat across from him and tossed a financial report his way. “Here.”
“What’s this?”
“It’s the income and expenses for every business under our umbrella over the past two years. Take a look.”
“It’s fine—you guys handle it.”
“Look.” Litchi’s enunciation sharpened just a touch. Lin Cheng snatched up the financial report and started poring over it, mulling it as he read. He quickly pieced together what Litchi was getting at. A few minutes later, he set it down. “Impressive as always, Litchi. You raked in twenty million easy over two years.”
“It’s two hundred million!!!” Litchi whacked him over the head with the financial report.
“Whoa, two hundred million? Amazing job, my dear Litchi sis.” Lin Cheng broke into applause. Litchi crossed her arms and shot him a glare, her lips pursing slightly.
This guy’s praise was so perfunctory. What a letdown.
“Whatever. Back when you were an adjudicator, your paychecks were probably way more than this. Makes sense you wouldn’t care.” Litchi’s tone carried a hint of grievance. Lin Cheng spread his hands wide. “I never took a salary back then.”
“Wasn’t that just your chuunibyou phase?”
“I regret it so much.” Lin Cheng pulled a long face. “Should’ve ditched the noble superhero act and grabbed the cash for every incident I handled. Then I wouldn’t have to watch my sweet Litchi baby bust her ass every day.”
The pout on Litchi’s lips eased a little. “You get that, huh.”
“Come here—sit. I’ll give you a shoulder rub.”
“No way. You’d just cop a feel.” Litchi shrank back with a soft huff. “So why’d you retire right then, of all times? The catastrophes had already been sealed away.”
“Exactly. Catastrophes sealed—why stick around?”
“World at peace, everyone celebrating. Time for rewards, promotions, the works—and poof, you’re gone.”
“Pfft, fame’s worthless. They handed out a pile of medals, but they weren’t worth squat for scrap. Even the junk guy turned them down.”
“That was Starfall Cold Crystal. You think a scrap dealer would recognize it? Wait—you didn’t actually try to sell it, did you?” Litchi stared at him, eyes wide.
“Nah, but I have no clue where it ended up.” Lin Cheng scratched his head, then added, “Guess my lightning-fast retirement was the right call. I can handle fighting monsters, but all that talk of justice, morals, and rules? That’s not the hot-blooded era I grew up in anymore. The Alliance feels off these days. Take Lu Xiaoxiao—she got pushed to the brink by their stupid system, didn’t she?”
“So you took advantage of her vulnerability and slept with her?”
“I comforted her, okay? She was totally willing.” Lin Cheng’s reply came out aggrieved, but Litchi’s gaze stayed cool and distant. She rose and drifted over to the window.
Beyond the transparent glass lay the bustling street below. Rose Street had once been known as Fallen Street, the stronghold of the Codename K Organization—a vicious outfit founded by rogue ability users. They’d built up a web of shady businesses to rake in the cash. Two years ago, Litchi and Grape had taken it over, transforming Fallen Street into Rose Street. They’d purged most of the gray-area operations, leaving only a few that skirted the edges—like the casino. That one had earned Alliance certification by kicking back a cut of the profits, allowing it to operate legally. The rest were high-margin spots: bars, dance halls, bathhouses. They’d turned a tidy profit over the last two years.
The Alliance was the sole official organization, keeping a loose rein on every civilian esper group while ruthlessly stamping out any rule-breakers. Famous for its iron-fisted brutality. With catastrophes growing rarer, humanity’s old unity had fractured into a scramble for the spoils. The Alliance wielded the knife that carved up the pie.
“Grape Sis cried last night,” Litchi said abruptly, turning to eye the man lounging in the chair, sneaking sips of her coffee.
“Huh?”
“You know why. Don’t play dumb.” Litchi’s voice was even.
“So she cried. Big deal.” Lin Cheng took another pull on the straw. The ice cubes in his coffee cup were slowly melting.
“What’s so wrong with Grape Sis?”
“Nothing—she’s great all around.”
“Then why don’t you like her?”
“I only like people who don’t like me.” Lin Cheng’s answer was as innocent as it was straightforward. Litchi gave him a flat look. “If your head’s messed up like that, go see a shrink.”
“You can’t force feelings like that.” Lin Cheng flashed a helpless smile, stood, and joined Litchi at the window. Together, they gazed down at the lively street. “No one’s been causing trouble lately, right?”
“With Grape Sis and Sister Lemon around? Who’d dare?”
“Good. Where’s Lemon at?”
“She knew you’d show up today, so she skipped the office.”
“Still pissed at me?”
“You earned it.”
“Sigh, you wouldn’t get it.” Lin Cheng reached out to gently pat Litchi’s head. She stepped back, her gaze turning resentful. “Quit taking liberties. You’re just one year older.”
“One year still counts.”
Litchi’s cheeks puffed out a bit. “I’ve got stuff to handle. There’s a bookstore on the fifteenth floor—go chill there. That woman named Xu Wanyue shows up right at eight every night. I’ll let you know when she arrives.”
“Got it, got it.” Lin Cheng turned meekly and headed out of the conference room. He took the elevator to the fifteenth-floor bookstore, grabbed a random poetry collection, and settled into a corner to flip through it.
Litchi hadn’t been lying to Lin Cheng—she really did have business to attend to. She’d been running everything on Rose Street for the past two years, so it had been ages since she’d worn anything so… girlish and youthful.
That afternoon, she had a meeting about investing in a pharmaceutical company. She ducked into the changing room and swapped into a crisp white blouse and a black hip-hugging skirt. It being summer, she opted for 15-denier black silk pantyhose, slipped on a pair of black high heels, donned gold-rimmed glasses, and clipped back her dark hair with a barrette. Her vibe shifted dramatically in an instant. She’d dressed like this in front of Lin Cheng once before; his verdict had been that her baby face didn’t suit such a mature look.
She ignored him.
The meeting kicked off smoothly enough. The other company wasn’t some lightweight—they had an ability user family backing them. But halfway through negotiations, their representative suddenly asked if Litchi was free that evening… for dinner.
“Just dinner?” Litchi tilted her head, her voice all innocence and naivety. Paired with her outfit, it created an oddly endearing contrast.
The rep didn’t bat an eye at having his intentions called out. He explained that he wanted to know who was really pulling Litchi’s strings—or whether she even had the chops to claim a slice of the pie.
“Chops?” Litchi echoed softly. “My boss is a total slacker. The kind who just mooches off others all day.”
The man’s expression flickered with surprise as he waited for her to elaborate. Litchi pondered seriously for a moment, then fished a silver ornament from her pocket. “This… does it qualify?”
She set the ornament lightly on the table. In an instant, the entire conference room felt like it had plunged into an icy abyss. The partner who’d eyed her with faint disdain moments ago now broke out in a torrent of cold sweat. His body went rigid, beads of perspiration rolling down his face, his voice quavering. “This is…”
“It’s from Grape Sister. She gave it to me as a gift. Silver Wing’s been disbanded for ages—don’t be so scared.”
Litchi gently slid a tissue over to her partner and smiled at him. “So… are we qualified now?”
“Yes… yes, absolutely.”
Litchi rose to her feet. “No need to be afraid. We’re all businesspeople these days, just chasing a little profit. We don’t want your small-time operations. That said, all we can offer is some research funding—no tech support. So, shouldn’t we tweak the contract?”
“Right, tweak it—we must. Um, once the drug hits the market, would fifty percent of the profits work?”
The original deal had been a measly zero-point-seven percent—and even that, by Litchi’s estimates, promised close to tenfold returns.
Litchi’s lips curved in a gentle smile, but she said nothing, simply watching him warmly. “If you think it’s fair… then it is.”
“Sixty percent—that’s our absolute best offer…”
“Is it?” Litchi murmured, twirling a strand of hair by her ear, looking mildly troubled.
She let the silence stretch for five or six seconds. Her partner seemed on the verge of collapse, as if he might drop to his knees. “Seventy percent… that’s the limit. Absolutely.”
“Then it’s settled.” Litchi’s lips hooked up in a smile as she stood, her steps light and graceful.
She scooped up the silver ornament from the table and let out a soft chuckle. “I figured most people had forgotten about Silver Wing by now.”
The partner mopped his brow but couldn’t bring himself to meet Litchi’s eyes.
“Who… would dare forget?” he replied, his voice trembling.
Litchi shook her head. “Silver Wing’s gone for good. There won’t be any more Silver Wing from here on out. Grape Sister’s all gentle these days—really, no need to be so scared.”
The partner had no response for that. Everyone knew… a fickle, cold-blooded she-devil like that had zero chance of going straight.
