Bo Wang sat down on the single sofa that several managers had hurriedly dragged over for him. He crossed one leg lazily over the other , the posture casual to the point of arrogance, and continued to twirl the velvet flowers between his fingers. His face—handsome, sharp, unreadable—betrayed nothing at all.
Ji Jing quietly pulled a manager aside to ask what was going on. The moment he heard the answer, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
Who the hell was it?
To dare stick a velvet flower—something meant for tipping male escorts—on Bo Wang’s door… this wasn’t just mockery. It was provocation of the highest order.
Someone was going to die tonight.
Manager Huang, clutching a large box filled with the remaining velvet flowers, scrambled over to Bo Wang. Cold sweat drenched his back, his voice shaking so badly it barely held together.
“Young Master Bo… a total of one thousand three hundred and eighty-three voting flowers were distributed tonight. One thousand and twenty-eight have already been returned.”
Li Shan, the club’s owner, carefully studied Bo Wang’s expression, but the man remained utterly composed, still seated there, still toying with the flowers as if they were nothing more than idle ornaments.
“Young Master Bo…” Li Shan began, his voice trembling despite himself. “There’s a major event tonight. Many guests only came for a drink and left quickly. Our surveillance cameras only cover the main entrance…”
The Black Spade Club was one of the most extravagant venues in Jiangbei, frequented by people whose identities could never be exposed casually. Installing cameras everywhere would invite endless trouble—this was an unspoken rule.
At those words, Bo Wang finally stopped.
His dark eyes lifted slowly, fixing on Li Shan. His gaze lingered—not on his face, but on his legs, which were shaking uncontrollably. Then, suddenly, he smiled.
His voice was low, almost gentle, carrying a trace of careless amusement.
“I was only asking. I’m not going to eat you alive. Why are you shaking so badly?”
Still these words did nothing to ease the tension of the man .
Li Shan’s legs gave out completely, and he dropped to his knees with a thud.
“It’s my fault,” he stammered. “My poor management let such an audacious person sneak in. Please—please give me some time. I’ll check the entrance cameras one by one. I’ll definitely find them…”
Bo Wang listened quietly.
Then he leaned down, closing the distance inch by inch, his tone unfailingly polite.
“Check them one by one?” he asked softly. “Wouldn’t that be too much trouble for you?”
He was smiling when he spoke, but each word sent a chill straight through Li Shan’s bones.
“I—I would never think it troublesome,” Li Shan said hoarsely. “Not when Young Master Bo has been humiliated in my place.”
Li Shan’s face was white as paper.
Bo Wang’s thin lips stopped beside his ear. His smile deepened.
“Yes,” he said calmly. “I was humiliated here. What do you think we should do about it?”
“Please… please calm down…”
Li Shan was shaking so violently it looked as though he might collapse again.
Then, as if something snapped inside him, he clenched his teeth, scrambled to his feet, and suddenly rushed upstairs like a man possessed.
“Bang—!”
A deafening crash echoed through the hall.
In full view of everyone, Li Shan vaulted over the glass railing.
He slammed straight into a standing floor lamp below, shattering it into countless fragments. Blood burst out instantly, and his body went limp.
“…”
No one dared breathe.
Bo Wang merely glanced over, his expression indifferent, not even a flicker passing through his eyes.
After a long moment, he lifted the pair of yarn flowers to his nose, blocking the metallic stench of blood, and spoke slowly, almost thoughtfully.
“It was just a small matter,” he said. “Mr. Li really couldn’t think things through.”
As he finished speaking, he casually tossed two more yarn flowers forward.
They landed in the spreading pool of blood, the petals instantly soaked red, giving off a chilling, almost sinister beauty.
Li Shan was dragged away by bodyguards for emergency treatment. The bloodstains on the floor were wiped clean almost immediately. The remaining managers stood there pale and unsteady, barely able to keep upright.
A perfectly good finale had ended with blood.
No—
it wasn’t over yet.
Bodyguards and managers quickly set up a row of computers on the spot. Surveillance footage began playing frame by frame, while every guest present was registered under their real name, each velvet flower meticulously traced back to its owner.
No one would escape.
Ji Jing picked up a bottle of Louis XIV cognac and walked toward Bo Wang. He poured half a glass into a square-mouthed crystal tumbler and offered it with both hands, his attitude uncharacteristically cautious.
“Brother Wang,” he said carefully, “don’t be angry with these useless people. Here—have a drink.”