Volume One, Chapter Seven: Contempt

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The bodyguard Mo hurriedly replied, "Yes, he mentioned something."

"What did he say?"

"He said it concerns Ye Chen."

The moment those two words, "Ye Chen," were spoken, everyone in the room seemed electrified, instantly snapping out of their entangled state with the two women.

Jiang Wu suddenly sat up, his clothes disheveled, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

"Ye Chen?" Jiang Wu repeated the name, his gaze complex. Without hesitation, he commanded, "Bring him here at once!"

"Yes, Your Highness," Mo responded promptly, turning swiftly and departing with light footsteps, as if escaping the room's ambiguous atmosphere.

At the moment he turned, the atmosphere in the room grew even more delicate.

A pair of soft, jade-like hands, as smooth as creamy porcelain and seemingly able to squeeze out moisture, gently rested on Jiang Wu’s defined—though not robust—abdominal muscles.

The owner of those hands was clearly lost in some sensual fantasy, oblivious to the sudden change in Jiang Wu’s expression.

"Get out of my sight!" Jiang Wu suddenly barked with an unyielding authority.

Startled, the woman immediately withdrew her hands, her face a mixture of fear and confusion.

"Your Highness…" she murmured softly, her voice tinged with grievance and bewilderment.

But Jiang Wu seemed not to hear her, offering no response. His mind was wholly seized by the name "Ye Chen," as if bound by invisible chains, unable to break free.

Around the bed, several beauties dressed in sheer silk, their faces exquisitely beautiful, witnessed the scene. They exchanged uneasy glances, eyes flickering with an indescribable dread.

Having served Jiang Wu for some time, they were familiar with his ruthless nature.

Thus, at this delicate moment, they chose silence and retreat, exchanging a glance filled with unspoken understanding.

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They rose slowly, their movements gentle and cautious, all the while keenly observing the ever-shifting expression on Jiang Wu’s face. They tiptoed carefully, afraid that any noise might disturb the young lord lost in his own world.

Finally, after confirming they had not drawn his attention, they slipped away like ghosts, leaving behind a faint fragrance and an unresolved mystery.

Jiang Wu, however, remained entirely unaware. His face was stern, eyes locked as if silently confronting a shadow deep within his soul.

At that moment, he murmured to himself in a low, restrained voice, each word forced out through clenched teeth, laden with an indescribable chill.

"Ye Chen," he slowly breathed the name, his tone mixed with resentment and helplessness, as if it were a wound in his heart that would never heal. "Why have you appeared again?"

As he spoke, his gaze grew deep and complex, as if recalling the tangled past with Ye Chen—those old grudges like silent blades cutting through his heart in the dead of night.

"I finally managed to enjoy a few good days while my master was away from the peak," Jiang Wu continued, a subtle bitterness barely perceptible in his voice.

These days felt like a rare release from his usual chains, a brief respite filled with indulgence and pleasure alongside beauties—moments like brilliant fireworks brightening his "boring" existence.

But this fleeting relaxation was abruptly shattered, like a beautiful dream awakened by a sudden thunderclap.

The news of Ye Chen’s arrival was like a cold sword flash, instantly piercing the calm and joy in his heart.

He took a deep breath, the exhale carrying a hint of resoluteness and determination.

Closing his eyes, he tried to dispel the chaotic thoughts and distractions.

Just as Jiang Wu immersed himself in this inward cultivation and adjustment, a sudden flicker of interest quietly stirred within him—curiosity about Ye Chen’s current state and a barely perceptible trace of provocation: "Ye Chen, what have you become now? Can you still command my respect as before, or... contempt?"

Before these thoughts could fully settle, steady and orderly footsteps sounded outside, each step tightening the tension within Jiang Wu’s heart, adding urgency to the tranquil atmosphere.

The footsteps stopped abruptly at the door, then a gentle yet authoritative voice pierced through, clearly reaching Jiang Wu’s ears: "Your Highness, Director Jiang has arrived."

Inside, atop the bed, Jiang Wu’s body stiffened sharply, then instinctively adjusted his posture, straightening his back. His eyes gleamed with an intricate, unreadable light.

Though his voice still carried a faint hoarseness from recent intimacy, the resoluteness and power of a young lord had quietly returned, every word exuding unquestionable authority: "Let him in."

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The words were brief and forceful, like a verdict hammered down.

"Yes, Your Highness," Mo respectfully responded, then turned smoothly, stepping aside with decorum to allow the man following him to enter. "Director Jiang."

Yet he made no inviting gesture, quietly awaiting Jiang Yun’s next move.

Jiang Yun bowed slightly with a smile, replied softly, then stepped forward into the room heavy with mystery. But just as he crossed the threshold, a sudden loud bang echoed behind him—the door slammed shut!

The sound exploded like thunder in Jiang Yun’s chest, sending a chill down his spine and momentarily halting his steps.

At that moment, Jiang Wu, who had already risen from the bed and moved to the round table, spoke calmly: "Director Jiang."

His voice was steady and composed, as if soothing the slight unease caused by the abrupt door slam.

He then sat slowly on the exquisitely carved rosewood stool, demeanor unhurried.

As for any further pleasantries, Jiang Wu said nothing, instead adopting an aloof posture while awaiting Jiang Yun’s next move.

Hearing Jiang Wu’s call, Jiang Yun quickened his pace, taking a few brisk steps to stand beside him, bowing respectfully: "Jiang Jianzi."

Jiang Wu waved his hand lightly, a faint smile touching his lips: "No need for formalities. Sit."

He did not gesture with his hand but conveyed the invitation solely through his words.

Jiang Yun felt a quiet relief, as if a great weight had lifted from his heart. He then eased himself onto the ornately carved round stool opposite Jiang Wu.

No sooner had he settled than Jiang Wu raised his hand decisively, elegantly pointing to the delicately crafted teacup on the table, signaling Jiang Yun to drink.

As Jiang Yun reached for the warm cup emitting a gentle steam, Jiang Wu’s voice cut through the room’s stillness like a sharp blade: "Director Jiang, I understand you came to speak with me about Ye Chen."