The light filtering through the grand floor to the ceiling windows of Yan Rui's Shanghai penthouse cast a soft glow over the dark marble flooring, glinting off the polished edges like silk on blade. Yan Rui stood by the glass, one hand in the pocket of his custom-tailored navy suit, the other swirling a glass of blood red wine. His expression was unreadable, the same inscrutable mask that had earned him respect and fear alike across continents.
From the outside, he looked every bit the heir of a centuries-old aristocratic legacy-his features sharp and noble, posture effortless yet commanding. But inside, the shadows whispered. And Yan Rui listened to them.
Behind him, Yan Shuo entered the room silently, pausing a respectful distance away before bowing slightly. "First Young Master," he said in a calm, even tone. "The Spanish situation has been resolved. Julio and his brothers will not bother us again. Our message was... well-received."
Yan Rui took a slow sip of wine, letting the silence settle like smoke. "Casualties?"
"Minimal on our side. The docks were cleared by midnight. We've ensured nothing traces back to us."
"Good. Burn every thread left behind. I don't want the local authorities catching a scent, and I don't trust the Spanish not to run their mouths."
Yan Shuo gave a small nod. "Already done. Our allies in Barcelona confirmed receipt of the cleanup package."
Yan Rui set down the glass on the table beside him, fingers drumming once against the surface. "That shipment meant too much to lose. Julio should've known better than to skim from me."
"It seems greed still clouds reason, even among old allies," Yan Shuo said. "Do we want to retaliate against the remnants of their cartel?"
"No," Yan Rui replied. "Let them scatter and survive. Broken dogs bark louder than corpses. I want them to speak of me."
Yan Shuo bowed his head again. "As you command."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Yan Rui walked toward the long ebony desk near the far side of the room, where a slim silver device vibrated once...discreetly, almost nervously.
A message.
He already knew who it was from. Or rather, who it wasn't from.
No new messages from Qin Yu.
He stared at the blank conversation screen for a long second, jaw tightening subtly. He is the one that always sends the messages. The Shanghai skyline glittered outside behind the glass, but his eyes weren't focused on it anymore. They were somewhere else on someone else.
Qin Yu.
The man had been a brief, sharp presence in his life, a flash of something he hadn't expected. Strong, silent,Devastatingly beautiful, those eyes as he has come to know are beautiful even when under lenses, composed-and frustratingly elusive. Yan Rui had watched him on that flight, clocked every microexpression, the careful distance he kept from others. Reserved. Cold, Precise. Yet beneath that surface, there had been something dangerous. Familiar. Like recognizing a fellow predator in a room of sheep.
He had smiled. Not many things made him smile genuinely these days.
He reached for the phone and typed something quickly, pausing once to consider his words. A part of him, deeply buried beneath the decades of control and cold, wondered if Qin Yu would reply. He didn't expect him to. But he sent the message anyway:
"You still haven't answered my message. Tonight isn't the same without you under me. YR."
He stared at it, then hit send. The text went through. No reply. As expected.
Yan Shuo stepped closer, his voice cautious. "First Young Master, the delegation from the Sicilian branch is requesting an update on the Zurich account. Shall I handle it?"
Yan Rui waved a hand. "No. I'll speak to them myself."
He moved with the elegance of someone who knew his power extended far beyond weapons or territory. Yan Rui had been raised in silk sheets but molded by blood and loyalty. Five generations of underground empire-building had ensured his existence came with weight-and a target on his back.
He remembered his father's words when he was still a boy:
"Power means nothing unless it's feared in silence and admired in the open. Never show your thirst. Let others offer you the cup."
In truth, he never expected to be interested in someone outside of this world...his world. But Qin Yu... that man had walked into his periphery and stayed there like a thorn that refused to be plucked.
It irritated him. It intrigued him more.
The doors to his office opened again, and a tall, elegant woman walked in, her heels barely making a sound. Dressed in black, with dark red lipstick and hair pinned high, she moved with the grace of a dancer but eyes like a dagger.
Yan Rui arched a brow. "Xue Fei. I thought you were in Tokyo."
"I was," she said smoothly, handing him a folder. "But I heard the Spanish dogs came sniffing at our borders. I wanted to make sure you hadn't gone soft."
Yan Rui took the file from her and flipped through it. "I didn't. They were handled."
She looked him up and down. "You've been distracted."
He didn't answer.
"Is it the man from the plane?" she asked, voice like velvet over razors.
His eyes flicked to her, warning and sharp. "Watch your tongue."
Xue Fei only smirked. "So it is."
Yan Rui shut the folder with a quiet snap. "What I do with my time is not up for discussion."
"Of course not," she said, turning gracefully. "But don't forget, Rui... your enemies notice everything. Even the way your eyes linger on silence."
When she was gone, Yan Rui stood again at the window, staring down at the moving city. His world was built on control, but the one thing he hadn't anticipated Qin Yu had slipped through his fingers before he'd even had a chance to grab hold.
Still... the game wasn't over. Not yet.
He picked up the phone again. Still no reply.
He smiled faintly.
"Run for now, President Qin," he murmured to the city. "But even you can't hide forever."