Chapter 86: Revelry and Desolation

After a satisfying meal, the five of them sat together, bored, until Xiaoyu suggested they play a game to help digest their food. The rest agreed without objection.

“Let’s play a song relay,” Meining mused, touching her chin. “The next person has to start with the first character of the last line sung by the previous person.”

“Sounds good!” Lin Zhiwei and Zhao Lei both approved. It was a perfect chance, and would even help Yin Mier rebuild her song repertoire.

Ling Ziheng had finished his own meal and was nibbling on the salad Pei Xi brought him, flipping through a book. Laughter and singing drifted from the neighboring room, and he frowned slightly.

“Hahaha, Brother Lin lost! Dare or truth, hurry and choose!” Meining’s excited voice rang out. “Truth, I suppose,” Lin replied.

Ling Ziheng’s indifferent eyes suddenly focused—she was here?

He sighed. She’d gone to see the girls first, and Ling Ziheng, neglected by his wife, closed his book with a sense of grievance. It seemed the morning’s incident still lingered in her mind.

Since the little girl wouldn’t come to him, he’d have to go to her.

The five were having a blast, laughter filling the room. Meining was especially animated, standing and clapping her hands.

Ling Ziheng could only stand outside the glass door, his gaze fixed on one person—the little girl who infuriated him yet left him helpless. At that moment, she was facing away, about to answer her truth question, when she noticed everyone’s attention shift to the door and turned around in confusion.

Sure enough, the man stood there with folded arms, his face cold, eyes full of displeasure as he looked inside. Yin Mier, seeing everyone’s reaction, realized the man outside must be the legendary film emperor. Meeting him in person, she couldn’t help but marvel at how a man could be so perfectly handsome.

He was a completely different breed from Chu Chuo’s wild charm. Today, Ling Ziheng’s attire was simple: a crisp white shirt and slim black trousers. Chestnut hair partially shaded his eyes, hinting at a tall, well-proportioned figure. His features were sharp and masculine, yet softened by an elegant handsomeness—impeccably sculpted, and with the commanding aura of a European noble that made it impossible to look away.

If Chu Chuo was a red rose, alluring but thorny, then Ling Ziheng was a black rose—mysterious and haunting, his presence overwhelming.

Meining and Zhao Lei quickly got up to open the door for their boss, Meining nervously adding, “Brother Ling, we went to see you earlier, but Director Lin said not to disturb, so we didn’t go in.”

Whatever happened, she’d throw Director Lin under the bus first. Meining saw Ling Ziheng’s tense jawline and knew her boss was in a decidedly foul mood.

Zhao Lei followed silently; in moments like these, silence was golden—he trusted Director Lin could handle it.

Lin Zhiwei raised an eyebrow and calmly introduced, “Mier, our boss, Ling Ziheng.”

Yin Mier snapped out of her awe and smiled graciously, “Hello.”

Ling Ziheng’s expression remained cold as he nodded in response to Yin Mier.

Xiaoyu glanced at Lin Zhiwei, then at her boss, nervously swallowing. They were just playing games—why did the boss seem so angry? Was he upset at being ignored?

Of course—he was training alone while they partied in here. It was... a bit lonely.

“Uh, boss, we’re playing a game. Would you like to join us?” Xiaoyu smiled awkwardly, hoping to break the silence.

Behind Ling Ziheng, Meining gave Xiaoyu a thumbs-up. Xiaoyu was brave—he himself was sweating from Ling Ziheng’s aura, while Xiaoyu dared speak first. Admirable.

Lin Zhiwei sipped water, unconcerned, calm as ever, chatting warmly with Yin Mier.

Zhao Lei understood—looks like they’d had an argument.

“What are you playing?” Ling Ziheng asked, unexpectedly.

Meining and Xiaoyu, as if rescued, chimed together, “Song relay! The next person starts with the first character of the previous person’s last line.”

“That’s right! If you lose, you choose between dare and truth.”

Having explained the rules, Meining was still anxious—who dared punish Brother Ling, their boss and resident iceberg? Especially with him looking murderous right now, Meining shivered and glanced at Lin Zhiwei, relying on her to save them.

“Let’s begin,” Ling Ziheng said, not refusing, and sat beside Lin Zhiwei.

Lin Zhiwei hadn’t expected him to join their game. He seemed quite upset, which amused her—so childish! But she maintained a serene front: “Let’s start.”

The game was nerve-wracking for everyone. Meining, Xiaoyu, and Yin Mier all made mistakes, each harboring their own worries. The atmosphere was tense and suffocating—only Zhao Lei remained unaffected.

The relay dragged on until Ling Ziheng finally lost. Meining felt a weight lift from her heart and tried to please him, “Brother Ling, you’ve worked hard training. How about we skip the punishment and truth for you? Everyone agrees, right?”

“I think that’s fine,” Xiaoyu caught on immediately, eager for the game to end before they all suffocated.

What began as a fun game had somehow devolved into a bewildering whirlpool of anxiety.

“No need. Truth,” Ling Ziheng lifted his gaze, voice steady.

“Uh...” Meining froze.

“Go ahead,” Lin Zhiwei encouraged, rubbing her hands together. Heaven’s gate ignored, hell’s door chosen.

Meining pulled out her phone, shaking with nerves as she scrolled for a truth question. Her mouth dropped open as she read, swallowing hard, afraid to speak.

Xiaoyu hurried over for a peek, equally shocked, eyes wide, also unable to speak.

Meining tossed the phone to Zhao Lei, who thought he was safe—until he saw the question and blinked, clearing his throat, “Please... tell us the name of your first kiss.”

“Pfft!” Lin Zhiwei spit her water right onto Meining’s face.

Meining, already nervous, stared at Lin Zhiwei, baffled, but understood her reaction—the question was so terrifying even Director Lin couldn’t handle it.

“Actually, just the surname will do, since we wouldn’t know the person anyway,” Yin Mier quickly mediated. If he named a female celebrity, it would be far too awkward.

Ling Ziheng glanced at the girl beside him, her eyes stunned and fearful. Heh, this was her idea.

His deep black eyes glinted with mischief, his lips curving as he uttered a single word, “Lin.”

No one doubted him—there were plenty of girls surnamed Lin, a whole slew of female celebrities.

But Zhao Lei cast a meaningful glance at Lin Zhiwei.