Ash… had actually logged in.
And replied to his message.
Jing Mian held his phone, taking a long moment to process. His thoughts slowed as if he’d forgotten he was sitting in a café—the surroundings faded away, leaving only Ash’s message:
“Someone bullied you?”
He had only meant to test the man before him,
Yet somehow… he’d summoned the real Ash.
Moreover, how had Ash detected his subtle distress from just a few meaningless questions?
Across the table, Ren Changgong seemed unaware as he asked, “Jing Mian, what has you so absorbed?”
Jing Mian swallowed quietly. “A gaming friend messaged me.”
Ren chuckled politely. “No problem, reply first. I can wait.”
Nodding his thanks, Jing Mian lowered his gaze to the chat window.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard, tension coiling unconsciously.
Not long ago, Ash had suddenly logged in to issue a PK challenge, forcing Greek to apologize publicly. But that had been strictly business.
If the Ash before him was fake,
Then this would be their first real conversation.
Jing Mian typed carefully: [“…No bullying.”]
[“Just wanted to confirm—are you in Lincheng now?”]
He expected a long wait. Whether before or after retirement, Ash was notoriously aloof, never responding to private messages.
Yet within seconds came the reply:
Ash: [“No.”]
Jing Mian’s heart sank.
If previous suspicions had been mere conjecture, this confirmation elevated his doubts to certainty.
Ash: [“Why ask?”]
Pressing his lips together, Jing Mian replied: [“I’m meeting someone claiming to be you at a café near Radiance Game HQ.”]
[“Something feels off, but I wasn’t sure.”]
[“So I came to verify.”]
…
As he finished typing, Jing Mian looked up to meet Ren Changgong’s gaze.
The man set down his coffee, dark pupils mirroring his overcoat’s hue. Noticing Jing Mian’s attention, he smiled. “Done?”
Jing Mian nodded, setting aside his phone. “Done.”
Meanwhile, on Radiance Game’s forums, players began noticing the anomaly:
[Guys… Ash just logged in?]
[?!?!]
[Holy shit]
[Am I hallucinating???]
[+1, got the special follow notification]
[OMG I SAW IT TOO!!!]
[Why no world channel announcement?]
[^Only happens on first login]
[Just screamed in class help]
[Oxygen mask needed.jpg]
[Why’d Ash suddenly come online?]
…
“Jing Mian, think it over—no rush for an answer.”
Ren Changgong lowered his eyes, thumb tracing the coffee cup’s rim. After a pensive pause, he said, “How about next Friday?”
Jing Mian blinked. “And if I decline your invitation?”
Ren Changgong said, “There’s no reason to refuse, is there?”
As if he never doubted what decision Jing Mian would ultimately make, the man parted his lips and chuckled lightly, “…MianMian, isn’t Ash your favorite?”
Ren Changgong pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a lighter. As he took a drag, smoke slowly curled upward: “This week, go and terminate the contract with Me. There should be plenty of time, right?”
“Jing Mian, I’ll cover all the compensation you need to pay.”
Ren Changgong continued, “You just need to come to the club.”
If the truth were unknown, this would seem like an enticing proposal.
But after confirming the other’s disguised identity, every word “Ash” spoke felt like a carefully laid trap to Jing Mian.
Instead of storming off angrily or exposing him on the spot, Jing Mian paused thoughtfully before speaking: “Ash, your invitation is very tempting.”
“You know my name is Jing Mian.” His words were soft, gentle, and logically clear, bathed in the warm light, disarmingly tender. “Since we’ll be signing a contract next week and working together, I’d like to know your name.”
Ren Changgong froze.
Hesitating, he thought to himself—it seemed Jing Mian had completely fallen for it.
Truly an easy prey, this little rabbit.
Protected too well by Ren Xingwan, the moment he met his idol, he lost all ability to think. A little coaxing, and he’d obediently follow the hunter.
Ren Changgong interlaced his fingers, silent for a moment before replying, “Song Yan.”
Even so, for caution’s sake, he used Mobo’s name.
Jing Mian repeated, “Song Yan.”
“Mm.”
Jing Mian asked, “Do you know Mobo? Will he be joining our club too?”
Ren Changgong hesitated for a few seconds. “He has his own Team.”
Seeing Jing Mian’s doubtful expression, Ren Changgong quickly added, “If you want him to come, I can persuade him to leave his Team and join us.”
Jing Mian brightened. “Okay.”
“May I ask what Mobo’s name is?”
Ren Changgong: “…”
Ren Changgong fell silent for several seconds. “Zhang Daguo.”
This time, drawing a blank, he used his chauffeur’s name.
Jing Mian: “…”
Just then, a waiter from the café approached their table, interrupting their conversation.
“Sir, smoking isn’t allowed here—it affects other guests. Could you put it out? Thank you for your cooperation.”
Ren Changgong froze.
The words were directed at him.
The man flicked ash into his empty coffee cup and said dismissively, “Alright, I’ll put it out soon.”
Waiter: “Sir, the cup will be used by other guests. Please don’t flick ash into it…”
Ren Changgong frowned slightly. “Add the cup to the bill when I check out, will that do?”
Waiter: “But smoking isn’t permitted here…”
Ren Changgong’s expression strained to maintain composure, as if suppressing anger. “How about I book the entire place then?”
…
At that moment, Jing Mian’s phone chimed.
The sound was distinctive—a notification from Glory.
Messages sent to Ash via computer would appear in the chatbox on his phone. So, the only ones who could respond to him now were his few Glory friends, and the most likely possibility…
It was Ash!
Jing Mian picked up his phone and quickly unlocked it.
The latest message in the chat box appeared before his eyes with just a few short words:
【Stay where you are.】
Jing Mian: “?”
What did this mean?
Meanwhile, Ren Changgong, clearly mindful of Jing Mian’s presence, had veins bulging on the back of his hand as he raised it, seemingly resigned to stubbing out the cigarette butt in the coffee cup.
But then, the man suddenly froze mid-motion.
He glanced sideways, his gaze inadvertently sweeping past the window—then, as if noticing something, his face abruptly paled.
Jing Mian: “?”
The man shot to his feet, tossing the faintly smoking cigarette onto the table. He didn’t even have time to explain, only hurriedly muttering, “Jing Mian, I need to step away for a moment.”
Jing Mian was bewildered. His eyes instinctively turned toward the café window, and in that instant, the young man stiffened in shock.
He saw—
A black car parked at the roadside, its headlights still on.
Under Jing Mian’s gaze, several men in suits stepped out from the back seat. Tall and imposing, they strode purposefully toward the café where Jing Mian sat without the slightest hesitation.
When he turned back—
Ren Changgong was practically fleeing in panic, darting toward the café’s back exit. The man’s figure vanished in haste behind the door.
Jing Mian: “??”
What was happening?
Moments later, as the group of men entered the café, two of them immediately pursued Ren Changgong’s path, while the remaining two walked straight to Jing Mian.
Just as Jing Mian tensed, he felt a weight settle on his shoulders—one of the men draped a large coat over him, while the other silently moved to the opposite side of the table, bending down to snuff out the faintly smoldering cigarette Ren Changgong had left behind.
The acrid, choking scent gradually dissipated.
Their movements were precise and practiced.
Jing Mian thought to himself,
Was this some kind of movie scene?
This level of spectacle—were they sent by Ash? Or by Mr. Ren?
Jing Mian didn’t recognize the car or these unfamiliar men in black. Though Mr. Ren had access to his phone’s location, the man was currently in W City and unaware of his current situation.
If it really was Ash… had he managed to track him down based on just a vague address?
Either way, this was far too fast.
And to go to such lengths…
Despite having met only twice, this was already the second time Ash had come to his rescue.
“Mr. Jing, are you frightened?” one of the men beside him asked.
Jing Mian quickly shook his head.
Another man spoke: “We’ll take you home.”
Jing Mian swallowed.
He didn’t dare move.
After all, at this moment, these men in black seemed even more intimidating than the fake Ash. Unless Mr. Ren himself appeared in this café—or walked through the door right in front of him—nothing could convince Jing Mian to leave this chair.
Clutching his backpack, Jing Mian hesitantly asked, “Did Ash send you?”
Then, in a small voice, he added,
“…Can I call my husband?”