EIP 51

Zhou Jun burst into the bathroom, almost stumbling. His hands were sticky from evaporated alcohol, and his shirt, damp with spilled liquor, clung coldly to his lower stomach. He glanced at his reflection, red-rimmed eyes, trembling lips. He looked every bit like a complete failure. Approaching Lin Miao had been deliberate, driven by a petty impulse, an act both shameful and despicable.

If he were truly carefree, he would have walked away from everything, stopped watching, stopped caring about them altogether. But here he was, losing control, resorting to desperate measures. Cold water poured over his hands as he turned on the tap, washing them repeatedly until his fingers went numb from the chill. All he could see in his mind was the image of Yong Jin leaning close to listen to Lin Mian, their faces just inches apart.

Just that sight was enough to unsettle him completely, leaving him without any sense of what he was doing. The next thing he knew, he collided with a waiter. Whether he did it intentionally or not, even he wasn’t sure. His heart was a chaotic mess, driven by a desperate urge for Yong Jin to notice him, to back away from her. When he came back to his senses, broken glass covered the floor, and the waiter looked back at him in fear.

The splash of alcohol on his body jolted Zhou Jun back to his senses. What was he doing here, making a fool of himself? He scooped water onto his face, rubbing vigorously. His hair was soaked, clinging in damp curls across his forehead. Just then, someone else pushed open the bathroom door. Zhou Jun’s eyes, still red, darted to the mirror. It wasn’t the person he had in mind, but it was still someone he knew, an unwelcome visitor.

Zhou Jun’s expression turned guarded as he reached for his lower back and looked over his shoulder. The newcomer raised both hands, signaling peace. “Stinson, I admit I was wrong last time. I’m here to apologize.” Zhou Jun had already drawn his gun, his face expressionless. “Allen, you’re still alive, huh.”

Allen clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “It was meant for you, so how could it be a fatal dose? But you gave it all on me, so you missed out on its pleasant effects.”

As he spoke, his gaze lingered suggestively on Zhou Jun’s damp chin and neck, his tongue brushing his lower lip. Zhou Jun replied coldly, “Get lost before I put a hole in your head.” Allen touched his chin, then obediently stepped aside with a smirk. “Stinson, that major general’s had his fun with you. How about giving me a thought…?”

Allen’s words were cut off as he felt a hand clamping around his neck. There was a thunderous crash as his eyes widened in shock, spit choking out of his mouth. Pain shot through his neck and spine, he barely registered Zhou Jun’s movements before he was slammed against the door. The grip on his throat left him gagging, his vision starting to blur.

Zhou Jun’s cold smile deepened as he pressed the barrel of his gun under Allen’s chin. “If it weren’t for the Zhou family’s dealings with you, do you really think you’d get to provoke me over and over again?” Allen shook his head, trembling, and Zhou Jun’s grip finally loosened, tossing him aside. Allen collapsed on the floor, coughing and gasping, vomiting from the impact. Zhou Jun shot him a look of disgust and turned to leave.

But Allen started laughing between breaths. “Stinson… hah, that’s the real you. No, no, you’re bound to end up on our side, just like in Germany. If you could do it back then, why not join me again now?” His gaze was wild as he looked up at Zhou Jun, gesturing with fervor from the ground. “I’m not the same as before. If you’re willing, I’ll cut you in on thirty percent of my business.”

Zhou Jun thought Allen was rambling like a madman, yet he couldn’t act because of his connections to Zhou Yan. He holstered his gun and turned to open the door. The moment he pulled it open, he froze. Leaning against the wall in the hallway was someone holding a half-burned cigarette. The man looked up at him with a complex expression, giving away nothing about how long he had been there. Zhou Jun glanced at the cigarette in his hand, guessing that he must have been there for quite some time and likely heard everything.

With an indifferent expression, Zhou Jun brushed past him, ignoring him entirely. Unsurprisingly, Yong Jin reached out and grabbed his wrist. Zhou Jun followed the hand holding his wrist up to Yong Jin’s face and sneered. “What’s this, Major Yong? Here to teach me another lesson?”

Major Yong’s lips were tightly pressed together. His silence only made Zhou Jun feel more anxious, and then Yong Jin’s gaze dropped, fixing intently on Zhou Jun’s hand. Following his line of sight, Zhou Jun’s eyes widened, and he jerked his hand away from Yong Jin’s grasp. The sudden movement sent a metallic ring whirring through the air, striking the wall before falling to the ground.

The ring spun dully a couple of times on the thick carpet before settling. Yong Jin’s gaze remained fixed on it, his expression devoid of the surprise that would have humiliated Zhou Jun even more. Instead, his face was cold and impassive, as though he had expected this. Somehow, this lack of reaction stung Zhou Jun even deeper. Humiliated, he turned to leave, only to be stopped once more.

If Zhou Jun had been an ice sculpture before, now the fire within him blazed out, making his expression vividly fierce. His eyes burned with anger, and his clenched jaw made it clear to anyone watching that he was done with being held back. His fists were tightly balled, veins bulging from his wrist to the back of his hand, his pulse racing like a torrent out of control.

But Yong Jin, with a tone cold and distant, merely said, “The ring.” Zhou Jun yanked his hand back violently, his sudden movement causing strands of his hair to fall messily over his eyes, with one strand prickling his eye, leaving it stinging and watery. He blinked, forcing himself to rein in the anger bit by bit, pulling it all back into himself. His expression and posture gradually regained composure, no longer looking like that of a drunken madman.

Zhou Jun raised a hand, brushing his hair back from his forehead, lifting his chin with a slight air of defiance. He looked at Yong Jin with a cool, almost mocking smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t need it anymore,” he said, discarding the ring as if it were something trivial. His dismissive tone and careless attitude carried a clear disdain. Like a victor, he turned to walk away, and this time, Yong Jin didn’t stop him.

His posture, his back, even his pride felt as sharp as a blade under Yong Jin’s cold, unwavering gaze. Yet Zhou Jun knew he wasn’t that steadfast. As soon as he was out of Yong Jin’s sight, he felt as if he had shed a layer of skin, his strength draining as sweat beaded down his back. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, pressing it against his temple. Walking on in a daze, he suddenly bumped into someone, a woman, her scent familiar and enticing. Instinctively, he paused, looking her way.

At the sight of her, Zhou Jun raised an eyebrow in surprise. She was a familiar face. The fragrance she wore was intriguing, almost similar to the scent he had noticed at Yong Jin’s house. During his stay at the Yong mansion, he had once asked Yong Jin if he used cologne. Yong Jin had laughed at the question and replied that he wasn’t a proper gentleman. The various scents that clung to him from work, such as gunpowder and blood, made perfume unnecessary.

Zhou Jun suspected that the scent on her was likely from incense burners at the mansion, a faint trace of it lingering. The woman steadied herself and looked at him, gasping in recognition. Her beautiful eyes flicked around before locking onto him again. Her slender eyebrows arched slightly as she softly said, “Long time no see, Zhou.”

This woman was the very source of the entanglement between him and Yong Jin from the start. Now, here she was again, smiling at him. Zhou Jun looked at her, lowering the handkerchief from his forehead, and returned a faint smile. “Long time no see, Shirley.”

Shirley’s eyes shifted to the direction Zhou Jun had come from, her gaze narrowing slightly. “Your face looks bad, Zhou. Is something wrong?”

Zhou Jun could smell the scent lingering on her, and his mood soured. He didn’t respond to her question, instead saying, “I have friends waiting for me, I need to go.” But unexpectedly, Shirley stepped forward, blocking his path. She smiled, maintaining a polite demeanor as she said, “I came with Ah Jin, but now he’s gone. Do you know where he is?”