Chapter 11 – Good Friends

The charity gathering was held in the largest hall of the Flâneur Hotel.

Due to the heavily overcast sky, all the lights had been turned on. Inside the grand hall, an opulent chandelier hung magnificently, casting a bright golden glow over everything.

By the time Wei An entered, the auction had already begun.

On the stage was a mutilated corpse from the ancient civilization, displayed in a glass case. Several beams of bright light illuminated it, creating a lavish and extravagant effect.

Artifacts from the ancient civilization rarely made it to auctions. The fact that the Taoyuan Provincial Government had managed to procure this item demonstrated their sincerity toward the Prayer Assembly.

Yet, the subject of the spotlight was absolutely horrifying. The corpse was naked, its limbs and head severed, its body deeply embedded with wire. From a human perspective, it was impossible to fathom what kind of torture it had endured in life. Even after all these years, the sense of humiliation, brutality, and power it gave off remained palpable.

Many remnants of the ancient civilization bore this same style. The auctioneer was currently introducing it as the remains of an “ancient humanoid creature,” noting significant chemical alterations over time. Traces of bloodstains from ages past were still visible, and its posture suggested it had once been hung somewhere for display and intimidation.

The presentation was highly professional, and the audience listened attentively, waiting to place their bids.

Wei An picked up two glasses of the hotel’s signature fruit drinks and found a seat in the corner.

Gui Ling sat beside him. Wei An pushed one of the drinks toward him, “Drink.”

The creature picked it up and took a sip. The bidding soon began, and Wei An turned his attention back to the auction stage.

The price climbed rapidly, but Wei An didn’t participate. He didn’t particularly want to buy the thing—though even if he did, it would just be donated—but he simply had no interest.

Nearby, people whispered among themselves, mostly discussing the bizarre rumors surrounding the Yingtian government—human sacrifices, appeasing dark gods, and gaining power through ancient rites.

Though the ancient civilization was shrouded in mystery and terror, it was now widely accepted that humans were descendants of that era, sharing similar languages, appearances, architectural styles, and basic symbols.

People harbored many dark yet romantic fantasies about that time—a life led by beings who were both strikingly similar and utterly alien, far more powerful than themselves.

As Wei An sipped his drink, he began explaining to Gui Ling how the beverage was made, how the right amount of ice enhanced its flavor—sounding every bit the gourmet expert.

The ancient corpse was eventually won by a private collector. Another item was brought on stage—still corpse-related—and the auction proceeded smoothly.

Wei An introduced two types of pastries to Gui Ling before finally coming across a set of tableware, which he quickly bid on and won.

However, perhaps because it lacked strong ties to the ancient civilization, the final price was lower than market value, leaving him slightly embarrassed.

Before coming, Wei An had contacted a friend, mentioning he had little interest in ancient artifacts and would leave after a quick round. He had intended to bid on something casually and then go, but now he had to stay longer and secure something pricier to compensate.

As Wei An was considering the hotel’s new beverage offerings, a group of young men approached.

The one leading the pack was quite familiar with Wei An. From a distance, he called out his name and waved, which made Wei An smile and return the greeting.

There were three of them. The one at the front, Xing Fan, was in his early twenties. His family had business ties to some of Wei An’s investments, so they crossed paths occasionally.

Before even reaching the table, Xing Fan exclaimed, “Can’t you find a normal charity to support? Where did that ‘Falcon Relief’ group even come from? Do you realize those medical devices were deliberately scrapped by Cold Bird’s people—?”

He was referring to the 300,000 neural repair units Wei An had recently donated to an organization aiding victims of biological contamination. The group was embroiled in a compensation lawsuit with a major security conglomerate called Cold Bird. Every patient who died without treatment meant less money the company had to pay.

“The Flâneur’s new drink is pretty good. Want to try it?”

“Make it three glasses—” Xing Fan replied, flagging down a waiter.

The three of them took their seats. Xing Fan continued, “Cold Bird is a lawless mercenary outfit. Who knows what they’re capable of? You’re just a wealthy idler—why make your life so dangerous?”

“It’s not that bad,” Wei An said.

Xing Fan gave him a look of exasperation, saying he had no idea how troublesome it was to be on the radar of such unscrupulous corporations. He knew people in Cold Bird—Wei An had acted without understanding the situation, and while they wouldn’t actually harm him, he should avoid provoking them in the future.

Of the other two, one turned to watch the auction, while the other—Xiluo—was drunk and had been eyeing Gui Ling with keen interest.

“So this is your new bodyguard? Aren’t you going to introduce us?” he nudged Wei An.

His expression made Wei An reluctant to comply. But since one of the reasons he’d brought Gui Ling was to establish his presence, he forced a smile and replied briefly, “Wei Ling, my friend. This is Xiluo, He Lihan, and Xing Fan—”

He introduced the others. Gui Ling, of course, made no effort to greet them amiably, merely nodding with an air of cool indifference.

Xiluo, however, was undeterred—if anything, he grew more excited. Before Wei An could finish, he leaned toward Gui Ling and said, “Hey there, Wei Ling. I just heard about you—”

“We ran into my uncle earlier, and he had quite the description for you,” Xing Fan explained, referring to the vice president of the charity association they’d encountered earlier.

“He said your ‘friend’ here is top-tier, but you seem pretty protective—not planning to share—” he continued.

His dismissive tone made Wei An tense. Gui Ling, however, sipped his drink slowly, acting as if he neither saw nor cared—as though this were nothing new.

The auction moved on to a painting from the ancient civilization. Wei An didn’t particularly like it but decided to bid anyway, hoping to leave soon.

Several people seemed determined to win the piece, driving up the price. Wei An had no desire to compete, but Xiluo kept trying to engage Gui Ling in conversation.

It was the usual drivel from a playboy; his expensive mansion in a prime location, the cars he drove, the wild parties he threw, how much he liked Gui Ling’s aloof demeanor. It was insufferable.

Wei An didn’t particularly like Gui Ling either, but he disliked even more how Xiluo was talking to him.

“I’m serious—you have to come over sometime. I’ve already told my friends about you, and they’re all excited to meet you…” Xiluo continued.

“He’s not going,” Wei An snapped.

Xiluo ignored him, as if to say, *Don’t interrupt my fun, you boring stick-in-the-mud*, and pressed on: “If you come with me, I’ll give you a sports car. How about that?”

Wei An turned back to the auction stage and placed a bid far above the current price, securing the painting instantly. The people nearby stared at him in shock.

Wei An stood up.

He gave them a polite smile and said, “Feel free to bid on whatever you like. Wei Ling and I have some things to attend to, so we’ll take our leave.”

As he turned to go, Gui Ling finished his juice and stood as well.

Wei An noticed Xiluo also rising, as if intending to follow them.

He stopped and warned, “You know he’s my friend, Xiluo. Don’t push it.”

The other man laughed, as though Wei An had said something foolish.

“Come on, I’m not doing anything to him—just trying to make friends,” he droned. “I know his family fell from grace, and you’re his ‘good friend,’ but it’s not like things will go back to how they were. If he’s back in the scene, it’s obviously to make more ‘friends.’

“With looks like his, he’ll find plenty of good ‘friends.’ I’m sure my circle would love him—”

Wei An gritted his teeth, “Show some respect.”

He didn’t think he was being threatening—his tone wasn’t harsh, just firm. He didn’t appreciate being disrespected like this.

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him. Maybe because he’d never actually expressed displeasure at being slighted before. He was known as an easygoing person, but Xiluo’s pupils visibly contracted as he slowly straightened in his chair and leaned back.

“You…” Xing Fan opened his mouth but then closed it. The group fell into an awkward silence.

Though the surroundings were lively, a strange tension seeped into the space around them—an unspoken unease.

Wei An turned and left.

He could feel their eyes on his back, but no one followed.

Maybe they could tell he was genuinely angry. Wei An had never acted this way before—his public image in Taoyuan was one of complete gentleness, friendliness, and generosity. He couldn’t recall ever losing his temper because there had never been a reason to.

Gui Ling’s presence had disrupted some of the rules. It couldn’t be helped—the man was too dangerous, and Wei An needed to keep a closer eye on him.

As they walked away from the auction, the surroundings grew quieter.

The Flâneur Hotel was draped in black gauze, as if overly bright decorations would be offensive.

They didn’t have to walk far before reaching a garden with a discreetly hidden pavilion. The Flâneur Hotel was designed like this—elegant landscapes with trees, streams, and carefully arranged lighting to mimic sunlight when needed.

In such a place, it was hard to believe anything unpleasant could happen—though luxury hotels were no strangers to “unpleasant things.”

“Let’s head back,” Wei An broke the silence. “I know a patisserie nearby with excellent red velvet cake. Their chocolate is good too—we can take some home.”

Gui Ling, of course, said nothing. Wei An added, “This way. There’s a shortcut.”

As they walked, he continued, “Seems like my reputation in Taoyuan is due for an update.”

Gui Ling didn’t respond. Wei An went on, “It’s for the best. Back in spy training, my instructor always said that having some flaws and emotional outbursts makes a persona more believable. I never understood. I was raised with strict discipline—what flaws? What outbursts? It was all nonsense.

“But I’ve got to admit, I enjoyed that little outburst—losing my temper over you. It adds depth to my image. No matter how friendly I am, I’ll only react fiercely for one friend, get angry… Hmm, I like this new persona.”

Gui Ling glanced at him with an expression as if assessing a mental patient.