Hell Game: Starting from Metropolis

Novelists really do have a deep love for food made from the lower half of the body.

Looking at the names of the dishes, he shook his head helplessly.

With his delivery box slung over his shoulder, Liu Zheng walked out of the break room.

The food container was placed directly into the delivery box, and the green indicator light lit up.

Great, no problem.

He thought for a moment and then dialed the driver's number.

"What kind of vehicle do you need this time? One that's fast, one that's powerful, or one that's both fast and powerful?"

The driver's tone was very enthusiastic, probably because he had already received the notification from the Spider Maiden.

"Do you have any high-end ones?"

Liu Zheng offered a third option.

Which is more upscale?

Being able to destroy an entire building with a single shot is considered high-class; being able to fly at the second cosmic velocity by flooring the accelerator is also considered high-class.

"It's the kind of seat suitable for attending salon balls."

He provided specific background information.

"Oh, I see. Then let's get a Platinum Wraith, the top-of-the-line business van."

the driver said.

“Is the rent expensive?”

Liu Zheng asked.

“That car hasn’t been driven in a while, so it’s a good opportunity to take it out for a spin. I’ll give you a small discount, and together with the fee for hiring me as the driver, it’ll be five thousand.”

The driver readily agreed.

"That can."

Five thousand is still a bit expensive, but considering the help the novelist gave him, it's still manageable.

As he exited the delivery lane, a dazzlingly bright extended van was quietly waiting for him.

The platinum-plated car body reflected a dazzling and mesmerizing light under the moonlight, while the headlights, crafted from rubies, emitted a glow redder than the blood moon.

As for the rectangular harp grille made of diamonds and the genuine leather interior in the cabin, there's no need to elaborate.

In short, it can be summed up in one word: upper class.

"A small discount?"

Liu Zheng raised an eyebrow at the driver who had rolled down the car window.

"Of course, it's a small discount within my authority."

The driver emphasized the pronunciation of the words "within the range".

He smiled and said nothing more.

The car door opened automatically, and Liu Zheng entered the carriage, leaning back against the soft leather seat.

"Go to the 'quill pen' club."

His voice was understated, as if he were a great writer who was really going to a salon ball.

Chapter 218 What to do if you accidentally reveal something in front of someone you like?

At the entrance of the "Feather Pen" club, the novelist waited quietly.

Today she is wearing a black furisode dress, which is the most formal dress for unmarried girls, and black is the most noble color among them.

The daifusuke was embroidered with gorgeous patterns in gold and colored threads, and the birds and beasts moved rhythmically with the moonlight, as if they were alive.

However, the novelist's hair was not styled into a high bun, but rather left loose at the back of her head, with the front cut in a princess style.

Her fair face was expressionless, like a delicate Japanese porcelain doll.

But her gaze was as dark as a deep well, exuding an aura that was both majestic and eerie.

In the distance, a woman in a Western-style evening gown hesitated for a long time before finally walking over to say hello.

"Izanami-sama".

She had barely opened her mouth when the novelist interrupted her.

"Don't call me by that name. I'm called a novelist now."

She said it in a serious tone.

"Ah, yes, novelist. Why don't you go inside? Are you waiting for someone?"

"The woman in the evening gown asked."

"Correct."

The novelist's nod was almost imperceptible.

"Making a lady wait outside for him is incredibly ungentlemanly of your companion."

The woman in the evening gown complained on her behalf.

“It was voluntary; he didn’t know I arrived early.”

The novelist's head-shaking was barely perceptible.

"Ah this."

The woman in the evening gown was speechless.

How could someone so deign to lower themselves like this? Just who is the person who hasn't arrived yet?

The novelist was once one of the top figures in the metropolitan short story circle, having published more than a dozen best-selling stories with over 100 million views, and winning the Writers Association's short story gold award several times.

If she hadn't gone completely mad, stopping writing short stories to write novels instead, and failing to achieve any success, she wouldn't even have the right to talk to a novelist.

As for the novelist's other background, the woman in the evening dress didn't know much, only vaguely having heard that he came from a prominent family.

"Then I'll wait with you."

"That's what the woman in the evening gown said solicitously."

She's been writing short stories for several years now, but she's never become a big star.

She actually has the talent to write, but she lacks luck and support.

After all, short stories rely heavily on platform-pushed traffic.

The woman in the evening gown now wants to curry favor with the novelist and make a positive connection.

What if she goes back to writing short stories someday?

Secondly, it was out of curiosity that I wanted to know who the novelist's male companion really was.

The novelist finally turned his head and looked at her with a gaze devoid of any emotion.

The woman in the evening dress felt a chill run down her spine under his gaze, but she managed to resist turning around and running away.

"can."

Finally, the novelist nodded.

The woman in the evening gown breathed a sigh of relief, but at the same time felt a little resentful.

The novelist's behavior just now seemed to be an attempt to determine whether she posed a threat.

Since she allowed me to stay, it means that in her eyes I pose no threat whatsoever.

After finishing his sentence, the novelist ignored the woman in the evening gown and quietly looked ahead.

As time went by, the moonlight seemed to freeze along with the air.

The woman in the evening gown felt as if a piece of iron was stuck in her throat, and she wanted to shout but couldn't make a sound.

"This is terrifying. Is this the same kind of pressure that once made me the number one short story writer? I'm still too weak."

The woman in the evening gown exclaimed in shock.

She's a fairly significant figure in her own studio, and she even dares to argue with major shareholders who are considered second-class citizens.

But if she clashes with the novelist, she might not even be able to put her thoughts of resistance into action.

This feeling of being completely suppressed terrified her, while the novelist's condescending attitude excited her.

In this state of superposition of fear and excitement, she felt that she might lose control of her body at any moment.

Yes, there was another reason why the woman in the evening gown approached the novelist: she liked girls.

"Whoever you are, hurry up and come. If you don't come soon, I won't be able to hold on any longer."

The woman in the evening gown had an unnatural flush on her cheeks and muttered to herself.

If you do that kind of thing in front of a woman you like, then her life is over.

Finally, to her expectant gaze, two bright beams of light shone from afar.

The deep, steady sound of the engine slowly advanced into the quiet night, like a Bach piano concerto.

"What a luxurious car."

When the woman in the evening gown saw the car body reflecting dazzling light, she couldn't help but exclaim in admiration.

When she saw the driver sitting in the driver's seat, her pupils widened slightly.

With eyes that had undergone expensive remodeling surgery at the hospital, even from hundreds of meters away, one could see the overwhelming artillery fire and the torrent of steel behind the driver.

Even the head of the hospital's security department, whom she had met, did not have such a powerful aura.

Just how prestigious must a novelist's partner be to have someone like that as his driver?

The woman in the evening gown's curiosity reached a new level.

Unfortunately, a specially designed partition blocked her view, preventing her from seeing the people in the back of the vehicle.

However, the Platinum Phantom soon arrived in front of them.

The car door opened automatically, and a tall figure stepped out of the carriage.

With the appearance of that figure, the previously stagnant moonlight once again poured freely into the area, and the air finally resumed its flow.

And all of this was because the novelist laughed.

Her smile was like a cherry blossom blooming in its most beautiful season.

"senior."

She jogged over to meet her.

The woman in the evening gown instinctively tried to follow, but just as she was about to take a step, a feeling of impending death suddenly flashed through her mind.

She was startled and quickly put aside all her distracting thoughts.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

Liu Zheng said somewhat apologetically.

"It's okay, this is something I did willingly."

The novelist's eyes crinkled into crescents with laughter, like the crescent moon in the sky, but brighter and purer.

With her knowledge, she could naturally see how much preparation Liu Zheng had made and how much he had paid for this ball.

Although he knew the novelist wasn't a kind person, Liu Zheng was still charmed by her smile and couldn't help but reach out and pat her head.

His eyes were also smiling, but not as simply as a novelist's smile; instead, they were heavy and strained.

It's like the last breath of clear air squeezed out of the lungs of someone who has been crushed by a mountain in a filthy hell.

But that makes it all the more precious.

His resolute profile was caressed by the moonlight, reflected in the eyes of the woman in the evening gown.

Liu Zheng noticed her gaze and turned his head to look at her.

The four characters "德" (virtue), "仁" (benevolence), "信" (trust), and "义" (righteousness) shone brightly, igniting a fire in his eyes and burning a flame in Li Qun's heart.