Jiang Yu’s fingers rested on the shoulder pad of the suit, his right arm wrapped around the other man’s left arm, their fingers interlocked. His fingertips pressed against the tendons on the back of the other’s hand as he took the lead, dancing the man’s steps.

He kept his heels flat, turning, stepping backward, rising.

Every drumbeat, rhythm, and burst of sound seemed to explode beneath their feet. Broken beats leapt after the bass line, while the chords rode the wave-like melody beneath them before falling back down.

“You seem pretty happy,” Qiu Shihuan said, following his rhythm with ease as they carved effortlessly through the swirling skirts around them. “Uncle, did something happen that’s worth being happy about?”

“No, no. I wouldn’t dare.” Jiang Yu hurriedly smiled in explanation. He leaned down, using the dance as an excuse to bring his mouth close to the other man’s ear. The amethyst earring swayed with the beat, almost as if it might stab his eyes. “But there’s something I’m curious about.”

“What?”

The arm around his upper body suddenly tightened, and their chests pressed firmly together. There was a fire burning beneath their suits. Neither was willing to yield, neither wanted to lose. The one who took the initiative and the one who remained calm would be the winner—but at this moment, it was impossible to tell who had the upper hand.

Someone whispered:

“Were you really angry, Young Master?”

Although Qiu Shihuan was a dangerous person, at the moment he was about to kiss someone else by mistake, the unwillingness and fury in those dangerous eyes were genuine.

A vein bulged on Qiu Shihuan’s forehead. He grinned.

“Uncle, if you don’t drop this subject right now, I’ll shove a nail into your ear canal.”

“Where did you get a nail?”

“I got it from that idiot. The tabletop is five centimeters off. Anyone can tell the nut underneath is loose.” He sneered. “‘Weapons aren’t allowed’? There are weapons everywhere here.”

“All right. Looks like I’d better watch what I say.”

“You should. Now, cheer up. Let’s play a game.” Qiu Shihuan rose onto his toes and pulled the other man’s upper body closer. His lips were almost pressed against Jiang Yu’s ear. “This fifteen-centimeter screw is hidden somewhere on me. Uncle, take a guess. Where do you think you’ll find it?”

“Is there a prize?”

“Guess correctly, and I’ll let you off.”

“And if I guess wrong?”

Qiu Shihuan thought about it before answering, “I’ll kill you—ah, Uncle, you’re sweating. Do you really think the punishment for losing a game would be that boring?”

“That doesn’t sound good…” Jiang Yu’s body stiffened. “My luck has always been terrible. Young Master, could you be a little more reasonable?”

“Really? Then let’s skip the game and just start killing people.” His burning lips brushed forcefully against Jiang Yu’s cheek. Even through the suit, Jiang Yu could feel the violent pounding of his chest. The whispering voice was intimate, almost like a spoiled little animal begging for attention. “There are so many people here. It’ll definitely be interesting.”

“Then you’d better exercise some restraint. No matter how capable you are, they have guns. Those things are the rules—the law of District 19. And you only have a single screw. If you insist on going head-to-head, the outcome is uncertain.” Jiang Yu lowered his voice. “So let me give you one piece of advice, Young Master. A losing proposition isn’t worth taking.”

“Oh?” Qiu Shihuan tightened his jaw and kept pace with Jiang Yu. “What do you consider a losing proposition?”

“That depends on how you define it.” Jiang Yu smiled obsequiously. “Young Master, give me a straight answer first. Did you kill Qiao Yingsheng?”

His eyes, smile, and even his expression did not change in the slightest.

He did not sweat.

“Why are you asking that?”

This kid was a natural-born liar.

“I can’t figure it out. His death should have been a carefully planned act of revenge—no traces, no witnesses. Yet Qiao Yingsheng’s DNA was deliberately left behind, as if someone wanted him to be found. What do you think that means?”

“Display. Bragging. Or a declaration of war.”

“Then the killer must be very bold. He wants to cause panic inside the club. But there’s one thing: the breakthrough in a murder investigation is often the person who benefits most from the victim’s death, or the person who was in conflict with him. Who do you think would ultimately benefit from the panic?”

The indigo eyes narrowed.

“The informant.”

“If he wants to conceal his identity, if he wants to uproot the club completely, doing it himself wouldn’t be a good idea. So I’ll ask one last time.” His lips touched the cool earring as Jiang Yu asked in a voice only the two of them could hear, “Young Master, did you kill Qiao Yingsheng?”

Qiu Shihuan couldn’t help laughing.

Something deep in his eyes burned with an intense, fiery heat.

“You’re interesting, Uncle—I thought that even if you knew I killed him, there was nothing you could do to me.”

“Until I confirm that you’re connected to the informant, there really is nothing I can do to you.”

Jiang Yu’s arm remained tightly around him.

No one could have imagined that beneath the intimate appearance of the two men, every word exchanged between them was a weapon, and they were locked in an open yet concealed battle of wits.

“Someone gave me information about Qiao Yingsheng.” Qiu Shihuan finally stopped hiding it and smiled. “He told me that at nine-thirty last night, there would be something I was interested in at Baihu Park.”

“Something you were interested in?” Jiang Yu raised an eyebrow. “Qiao Yingsheng? Why? What did his death do for you?”

“Because I wanted to kill him.”

“That certainly sounds like you.” Jiang Yu seemed to smile. “Looks like you don’t want to answer that question. Can we move on to the next one?”

“Sure.” Qiu Shihuan agreed readily. “But I have one condition.”

“Go ahead.”

His arms hooked around Jiang Yu’s neck as he drew their upper bodies closer. His Adam’s apple moved slightly. Soft, curling hair, fine as high-quality wool, brushed gently against the down on Jiang Yu’s cheek.

Moist lips breathed slowly against him.

“One answer, one kiss…”

Jiang Yu lowered his eyes and froze for a moment. His heart pounded as though it might burst from his chest. Without hesitation, he turned Qiu Shihuan’s chin toward him and kissed him hard.

“As you wish, my sir.”

“How did you communicate with him?”

Jiang Yu loosened his tie with his thumb and moved toward him without waiting.

The bite wound inside his mouth had not completely healed, so there was no tongue involved in the kiss. They grabbed each other’s arms, wrinkling their sleeves, their bones creaking beneath the pressure of their knuckles.

Staggering through the crowd, the two of them moved from the dance floor into a corner. Qiu Shihuan was pushed against the wall, a trail of saliva glistening at the corner of his mouth.

“Anonymous email.”

“Did the email only contain Qiao Yingsheng’s whereabouts?”

“Yes. He was extremely cautious. The IP address had been disguised through layer upon layer of protection. Hmm… It’s difficult to determine his location.”

“You still have it? Send it to me—and don’t move. Don’t stick out your tongue.”

“I can. But requests beyond the questions require a different form of payment.”

“What do you want?”

His index finger and thumb formed a circle, and the tip of his tongue lightly slipped through it.

“You have to kiss somewhere else.”

“Can I put it on credit?”

“That depends on how well you please me, Uncle.”

“Take your shirt off.”

“Huh?”

“Take it off.” A thin strand of saliva stretched between their parted lips. Jiang Yu held Qiu Shihuan by the shoulders, licked his lips, and looked unsatisfied. “Wasn’t I supposed to please you?”

One button after another was gently undone, and Jiang Yu kissed his sensual, full chest.

“…Uncle!”

Qiu Shihuan covered his mouth with the back of his hand, barely managing to suppress a cry.

“Can we continue, Young Master?”

“Let go…”

“I’m only doing what you asked.”

Jiang Yu smiled as he lifted his head from Qiu Shihuan’s chest and once again kissed his moist lips.

Every inch of skin touched by his fingertips began to heat up.

Tears of physiological response glimmered at the corners of Qiu Shihuan’s eyes. His pupils trembled like a fawn trapped in a lion’s den, yet his lips remained tightly sealed, refusing to let even a single moan escape.

It was hard to imagine that this arrogant, domineering young master could become something so extraordinary with only a little stimulation.

“Next question. How did the informant find you?”

“Mm… I think he investigated me. I like working with people like that—convenient, efficient, and without any loose ends.”

Jiang Yu’s hands slowly slid beneath his ribs, his fingers interlocking at the hollow of his lower back, locking their bodies into intimate proximity.

They were kissing. There was nothing inherently unusual about that.

But this kiss did not come from love. It began with desire and existed because of an exchange—a transaction that promised profit without loss.

Neither dared associate it with that word, that ridiculous, ethereal word that meant surrender, meant becoming the loser, meant being kicked out of the game.

“Why did you kill Qiao Yingsheng?”

He asked again.

This time, Qiu Shihuan’s answer was firm.

“You can’t afford that price.”

Jiang Yu hit a wall, but the corner of his mouth curled upward.

“Young Master, what exactly do you want? You’re the young master of Ibis Technology, and although Chairman Qiu isn’t related to you by blood, you’re still his only son. Wanting someone dead should be easy for you. One word is enough. Why do you insist on doing it yourself? Is it enjoyable? Or are you pursuing some kind of unusual sensory thrill?”

“You’re curious, Uncle? Curious about whose names are written on my list?” He raised a hand and pointed in a particular direction, revealing an exceptionally brilliant smile. “What I can tell you right now is that Qiao Yingsheng is only one of them.”

“And that person over there is my next hunting target.”

Jiang Yu’s pupils suddenly contracted in alarm. He followed the direction of his finger.

In the corner of the stage, he could vaguely make out a hulking figure nearly two meters tall.

The man was dressed in military camouflage. He stood nearly a head taller than ordinary people, making him particularly conspicuous.

Jiang Yu quickly noticed something unusual about him.

The muscles in his arms were taut, hanging unnaturally backward, as though he were dragging something behind him.

When Jiang Yu curiously pushed through the crowd in front of him, he was shocked to discover that what was being dragged across the floor was the corpse of a woman whose head had been smashed apart.

The man was gripping her ankle, apparently dragging her toward the staff area.

And despite all the people present, it was as though no one could see the blood on the floor.

They simply kept cheering.

Kept dancing.