After ninety-nine online romances, I finally met my ex in person when school started.

In the early morning, the first rays of sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, falling on the tatami mats in the Aman Hotel suite.

Zhu Xun Chuan sat at the low table, enjoying a rare moment of peace.

Su Mucheng, wearing the sailor uniform specially prepared for the MV shoot, obediently knelt on his left.

The pleated skirt was very short, and she held a delicate white porcelain bowl in both hands, filled with peeled Shine Muscat grapes.

"Brother Chuan, open your mouth." Su Mucheng's voice was soft and sweet. She picked up a piece of fruit with her slender fingers and put it to Zhu Xun Chuan's mouth.

Her eyes were full of dependence, and a little bit of glistening juice still lingered on her fingertips.

Zhu Xun Chuan casually ate a grape, his lips brushing against her fingertips.

Su Mucheng's cheeks flushed instantly, even her earlobes turned pink, and she leaned limply against his arm.

On the right, Pei Yanyu wore a burgundy silk slip dress. The straps were extremely thin, hanging loosely on her rounded shoulders, revealing her deep collarbones.

She knelt up straight, placed her hands on Zhu Xun Chuan's shoulders, and kneaded them with moderate force.

"Little Su is still young and can only peel a few fruits." Pei Yanyu's red lips curled up, her tone carrying a touch of mature woman's languor. "Brother Chuan didn't sleep much last night, his shoulders and neck must be sore. It would be best to give him a massage."

As she spoke, she deliberately leaned down.

Su Mucheng sensed the provocation in her words, pouted, and, holding a grape in her hand, snuggled closer to Zhu Xunchuan in defiance.

Zhu Xun Chuan leaned back in his chair, his left arm around Su Mu Cheng's slender waist, while his right hand patted Pei Yan Yu's plump leg. The two women immediately quieted down, the tension of their rivalry easily defusing with his single gesture.

The sliding door to the master bedroom of the suite opened.

Xia Wanying walked out wearing ten-centimeter red-soled high heels.

She had changed into a dark gray haute couture business suit. The bodycon skirt accentuated her incredibly sexy waist-to-hip ratio, and her legs were encased in ultra-thin black stockings, exuding an aura of an unapproachable chaebol queen.

She drank quite a bit of that sake last night, and her fair skin still had a faint rosy glow.

Xia Wanying walked to the window, holding a cup of black coffee. She didn't join the two women's argument, but instead lowered her eyes and looked at the street corner below the hotel.

"Everything is ready." Xia Wanying turned around, her phoenix eyes radiating absolute confidence. "We can close the net at any time."

Zhu Xun Chuan's gaze passed over her long legs and followed her line of sight. Across the street, three black Toyota Century cars were parked, their windows tinted with dark shatterproof film.

The Yamaguchi-gumi acted quickly, having already silently sealed off the entrances and exits.

Zhu Xun Chuan stood up. Pei Yan Yu immediately picked up the dark suit jacket hanging to the side and walked over to him. With her slender fingers, she helped him put on the suit, tie the tie, and smooth out the wrinkles at the collar.

"Where to?" Pei Yanyu asked.

"Go pick Xiaobai up and take her home." Zhu Xun Chuan said calmly, then lowered his head and kissed her red lips.

A hint of satisfaction flashed in Pei Yanyu's eyes, and she obediently took a half step back. Su Mucheng also stood up, tugging at his sleeve and reminding him to be careful.

……

An hour later, at the abandoned dock in Tokyo Bay.

The sea breeze was salty and briny, carrying the smell of engine oil. Zhu Xun Chuan stepped out of the van alone. Rusty shipping containers stood scattered all around, the atmosphere deathly silent.

A burst of rapid footsteps broke the silence.

Hundreds of Yakuza men in black suits, along with dozens of Dark River assassins wearing tactical masks, surged out from all directions. The dark muzzles of their guns were all pointed at Zhu Xunchuan, who stood in the center of the open space.

A Yamaguchi-gumi leader, smoking a cigar and with a protruding belly, stepped forward. Standing beside him was a high-ranking officer from the Dark River, his eyes cold and sinister.

"Mr. Zhu, I've heard you wield considerable influence in China. But in Tokyo, your meager resources won't get you anywhere." The gang leader spoke in broken Chinese, his face full of mockery. "If you dare to come alone, you won't be leaving this dock today."

Zhu Xun Chuan remained silent. He pulled a silver lighter from inside his suit jacket and lit a cigarette. The flame illuminated his calm face.

"I'm in a hurry to get back for breakfast." Zhu Xun Chuan exhaled a smoke ring, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching everyone's ears.

The cadre from the underground river snorted coldly, raised his right hand, and prepared to order the shooting.

Just then, the satellite phone in the leader's pocket suddenly rang urgently.

The leader frowned and answered the phone.

"Team leader! Something terrible has happened!" came the panicked scream from the other end of the phone. "Our six heavy industry conglomerates under the Tokyo Stock Exchange have just been maliciously shorted by an unknown group of overseas speculators!"

The leader's expression changed, and the finger holding the cigar froze in mid-air.

"Within minutes, everything plummeted to its daily limit! The cash flow was completely severed. They not only dumped the shares but also froze over a dozen of our offshore accounts. The losses exceeded ten billion US dollars; we're bankrupt!"

The boss's cigar fell to the ground, sparks flying. Ten billion US dollars—this was the entire trump card accumulated by two generations of the Yamaguchi-gumi.

In the instant he was stunned, Zhu Xunchuan took out his phone and pressed play.

Fujiwara's terrified voice echoed across the empty dock: "It's Dark River! The Yamaguchi-gumi gave them a hundred million dollars, but they want to double-cross them, to swallow up the Yamaguchi-gumi's overseas financial operations!"

The recording appeared at the perfect time. With their own conglomerate collapsing at the same time, the big boss had no time to distinguish between truth and falsehood.

The logic of the underworld is extremely simple and brutal: if assets evaporate, someone has to take the fall.

The leader whirled around, his eyes instantly bloodshot as he glared at the Dark River cadre beside him: "Bastards! You Dark River dared to stab us in the back!"

The Dark River cadre's expression changed drastically, and he retreated repeatedly: "Fujiwara is talking nonsense! This is clearly a divisive tactic!"

"Kill them all!" The leader lost his mind, pulled out his pistol, and fired directly at the Dark River cadres.

"Bang!"

The underground cadre, shot in the shoulder, was no pushover either. He rolled on the ground, drew his gun, and returned fire: "The Yamaguchi-gumi have gone mad! Shoot them!"

What was initially a united front of a hundred people instantly transformed into a dogfighting arena. The intense physical confrontation, under the overwhelming force of money, devolved into a farcical free-for-all.

Gunfire erupted, sparks flew. Bullets struck the shipping containers, exploding in blinding flashes.

Zhu Xun Chuan, one hand in his pocket, a cigarette dangling from his lips, strolled leisurely through the hail of bullets. Bullets barely grazed his suit jacket.

Two assassins from the Dark River spotted Zhu Xunchuan and raised their guns to shoot.

Zhu Xun Chuan moved with lightning speed, taking a step forward and precisely kicking a rusty steel pipe off the ground with his leather shoe.

The steel pipe shot through both men's chests like an arrow. He grabbed a pistol and, without even looking, pulled the trigger repeatedly.

With each gunshot, a Dark River assassin fell.

The suits were spotless; the ultimate aesthetics of the suit-wearing thugs blossomed amidst blood and fire.