Chapter 66: The Ball Night
The Grand Imperial Hotel had been transformed into a cathedral of light. Crystal chandeliers bathed the ballroom in golden brilliance, while strings of violins floated in the background. Waiters weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne, the air thick with perfume, ambition, and unspoken rivalries.
Celebrities, investors, and socialites moved like currents of silk and glass, exchanging smiles that hid calculations, laughter that disguised negotiations.
Tonight was no mere event . It was a stage—where reputations could be built or shattered with a single glance, a single wor
The double doors opened, and silence rippled through the hall.
Mo Yue entered.
His suit was midnight blue, perfectly tailored, though his shirt collar hung undone, a deliberate rebellion against formality. Dark hair swept carelessly across his forehead, the kind of careless that still drew stares. He moved like he owned the floor—chin high, stride loose, eyes gleaming with the defiance of someone who had never once cared for permission.
Whispers chased him instantly.
"Mo Yue? He showed up?"
"After that scandal? He still dares?"
"Look at him. He doesn't even look ashamed."
Trailing just a step behind was Andre.
Sharp in his simple black suit, posture straight, his expression gave nothing away. He wasn't flashy, wasn't eager to be seen—he existed in contrast to Mo Yue. Where Mo Yue drew stares, Andre absorbed none. Where Mo Yue burned bright, Andre was stone—steady, composed, unreadable. Just a like an assistant.
He was there with a purpose, not as a guest but as a shadow. Guo Ming had made it clear: Keep him in check. Make sure nothing goes wrong.
Mo Yue's assistant role was heavier than most could imagine.
And tonight was heavier still.
Because the scandal was still fresh.
The headline had blazed across every entertainment page two nights ago:
"Mo Yue Causes Scene at Luxury Bar: Clash With Su Jie Escalates Into Public Argument."
The words had cemented Mo Yue as the villain once again. Wild, unpredictable, difficult to control. Fans were divided, critics sharpened their knives, and investors whispered behind closed doors.
This gala was damage control.
But when Mo Yue's gaze swept across the ballroom, his smirk faltered for the first time that night.
Su Jie stood near the stage.
He wore a pristine white suit, glowing under the chandelier's light. His smile was perfect, his movements polished, his presence magnetic. Executives leaned toward him, hanging on every word, their admiration clear.
The contrast was brutal.
Mo Yue, the scandal's villain.
Su Jie, the angel of the industry.
Their eyes met across the room. Su Jie's smile didn't break. It never did. But beneath that glossy charm, Mo Yue saw it—the glint. The quiet knife. The provocation only he could recognize.
Mo Yue's lips curved into a sharp smile. "Of course. He's here."
Andre caught the tone. His gaze flicked to Su Jie, then back to Mo Yue. "Don't start," he said evenly.
Mo Yue chuckled, low. "Start? What do you think I am, a child?"
Andre didn't answer. His silence wasn't timid—it was deliberate, professional. He wasn't there to trade words with Mo Yue. He was there to stop the fire before it burned the room down.
"Relax," Mo Yue said with a scoff, adjusting his cufflinks. "I'm not going to flip a table in front of all these suits."
But his eyes lingered on Su Jie as he said it, fire smoldering beneath.
They took their seats at the HYU Entertainment table. Feng Yu, clutching the evening program, quickly filled the empty chair beside Andre.
"Mr. Mo," he whispered anxiously, "your seat is in front, close to the stage. You'll be visible to the media. Please—just—"
"Don't tell me how to sit," Mo Yue cut him off, stretching lazily in his chair.
Feng Yu bit his lip, retreating into silence.
The lights dimmed. The speeches began. One after another, executives stepped onto the stage, voices smooth with practiced charm. Words like "unity," "collaboration," and "growth" filled the air.
Mo Yue tuned them out. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the glass stem of untouched champagne. His gaze kept drifting to Su Jie.
Andre noticed.
"You're drawing attention," Andre said quietly, without looking at him.
Mo Yue's smirk widened. "What, can they read my thoughts now?"
"They can read your expression."
Mo Yue glanced at him, amused. "You really think you can manage me, don't you?"
Andre said nothing.
The silence was heavier than a retort, and for some reason, it irritated Mo Yue more. He exhaled sharply, tearing his gaze from Su Jie to the ceiling instead. "Tch. Babysitter."
Andre didn't bite. His eyes remained forward, watching the stage.
Then Su Jie rose.
The crowd hushed instantly. He walked onto the stage with poise, smile radiant, voice smooth when he spoke into the microphone.
"We are gathered tonight," Su Jie began, "to celebrate not just our successes, but the unity of our industry. In moments where rumors and conflicts try to divide us, we must remember the strength of professionalism and respect."
The audience erupted in applause. The words sounded like honey, but Mo Yue heard the venom underneath.
Respect. Professionalism. The deliberate glance Su Jie threw toward HYU's table as he said it.
Mo Yue's jaw clenched. His fingers tightened around the glass stem.
Andre's voice came low, steady. "Don't."
Mo Yue's smirk returned, bitter and sharp. "Relax. I'm not that predictable."
But his eyes burned holes into Su Jie as the man finished his speech to thunderous applause.
The networking segment followed. Guests moved about the hall, voices rising in a chorus of ambition. Photographers snapped flashes, champagne flowed.
Executives approached Mo Yue, cautious, flattering. Some probed carefully around the scandal, others ignored it entirely. Mo Yue's responses were curt, dry. He accepted no flattery, offered no charm.
Andre kept pace beside him, ensuring no exchange spiraled too far. He didn't interfere unless Mo Yue's temper edged too close to boiling, and when he did, it was with a neutral phrase, a grounding presence.
But then Su Jie appeared.
Gliding through the crowd, surrounded by admirers, his laughter smooth, his smile unshakable. He didn't head straight to Mo Yue, but his path circled closer, orbit tightening.
Mo Yue's eyes followed, his smirk pulling tight.
Andre's voice came again, even softer this time. "Stay calm."
Mo Yue didn't look at him. "Do I look like I'm about to flip him over a table?"
"You look like you want to."
Mo Yue chuckled. "Maybe I do."
Andre's gaze didn't waver. "Then you'll regret it."
Mo Yue finally turned, studying his assistant with narrowed eyes. "You really think you scare me?"
"I'm not here to scare you." Andre's voice was calm, steady. "I'm here to keep you from ruining yourself."
The answer made Mo Yue pause. Just for a second.
But then Su Jie's voice rang across the hall, greeting another circle of admirers, and the fire surged again.
Mo Yue downed the champagne in one shot, slammed the empty glass back onto the table, and leaned back with a smirk that promised nothing good.
"Let's see who regrets what," he muttered under his breath, eyes locked on Su Jie.