Chapter 15: Schemes
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
If Shi Wenze had a phone right now, he would have left a one-star review for the Fortune Grand Hotel without hesitation.
The emperor suite came with not only a master bedroom but also two guest rooms. According to the staff’s introduction, these were usually reserved for bodyguards or assistants—an arrangement that clearly spoke to the caliber of guests who typically stayed here.
The interior design had been handled by a Parisian decorator, supposedly an expert in high fashion, but to Shi Wenze, it felt more like a deluxe bathhouse—dripping with gold, gaudy opulence, and nouveau riche flair. It left one wondering whether the true capital of fashion was Paris… or perhaps somewhere in Northeast China.
The hotel staff also opened a bottle of red wine for them—romantic, certainly, except for the oil painting on the living room wall that totally ruined the mood. He couldn’t say for sure which Louis the armored French king it was supposed to be, but whoever he was, he definitely hadn’t come to bless the affairs of love at the Fortune Grand.
The suite spanned over 300 square meters—so large that even their voices echoed. The turndown service had already been done in both bedrooms, and the staff, adhering to five-star standards, didn’t leave until both guests had been personally delivered to their respective rooms.
Shi Wenze lingered by the door for a while, listening like some kind of creep. Worse yet, the emperor suite’s soundproofing was so exceptional that even being a creep was difficult.
Before he could enjoy even a moment of the “standard room pleasures,” they’d been ruthlessly stripped away. Half an hour later, Shi Wenze sat alone in the jacuzzi tub, stewing in solitude.
“What’s the point of having a king-sized suite if there’s no one to share it with?” he sighed.
Meanwhile, in the room next door, Lin Su had already downed three glasses of wine while wrapped in his bathrobe. The mood was perfect—romantic, inviting—except for one thing: the leading man was missing. And he wasn’t the only one frustrated by the soundproofing. In this suite, even love had lost its signal. That night, both men lay in their respective beds, tossing and turning, slowly coming to a realization: money really didn’t guarantee happiness.
By morning, rain pattered gently against the windows. Lin Su turned over and kicked off the covers. That might’ve been the one real benefit of a 300-square-meter room—he didn’t need to worry about his sleeping posture even in his dreams. His deeply buried exhaustion began to rise to the surface. The soft down comforter felt like a cloud bathed in sunlight. He had no idea what time he’d fallen asleep—only that when he awoke, it was still dark outside. The clock by the bed read 8:00 p.m.
Jet lag hits different in American time zones, he thought. He should’ve set an alarm. No true artist—delicate, sensitive, perpetually ethereal—would ever let themselves sleep like a pig. The persona he wanted to maintain was someone who could be stirred by the rustle of flower petals falling to the ground.
With a toothbrush in his mouth, Lin Su stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, wondering if he should just pretend to be sick and play up the frail act. He furrowed his brows ever so slightly, adjusted his expression, and stepped out of the bedroom—only to find Shi Wenze sitting on the living room couch, completely engrossed in counting free tickets and discount coupons.
“…” Well then. A man of practicality.
When Shi Wenze saw Lin Su finally awake, he visibly relaxed. Standing up with a smile, he said, “You were so quiet in there, I was starting to worry you weren’t feeling well.”
He’d made the first move. Lin Su was too late to play sick now. All he could do was throw on a vaguely aloof Sleeping Beauty air and ask coolly, “What are you doing?”
“Trying to figure out what we should do tonight,” Shi Wenze replied. “This hotel actually has a ton of entertainment options. I already sorted them by type—want to help me pick something?”
His classification system was based on intensity. Lin Su flipped through the list and realized the gilded theater show from the night before had just been a warm-up. The real excitement was hiding in the fine print of those discount coupons. From parade floats to skydiving, Fortune Grand was basically Disneyland’s chaotic cousin—minus the legal right to use Donald Duck.
And when it came to couple-friendly attractions, the top contenders were obvious: roller coasters for the pre-relationship adrenaline, and Ferris wheels for post-confirmation romance. They decided to start with the thrill ride. The amusement park at night was even livelier than during the day. A small cart grilled buttered sandwiches on the spot, with a pink neon sign boasting “Couples Must Try!” Naturally, they had to order one. Crab and scrambled egg, topped with mayonnaise—sweet, rich, and shockingly good. A literal taste of love.
The line for the roller coaster was long, echoing with screams. The ride reached a top speed of 150 km/h. That didn’t sound too outrageous until you noticed the track… which only extended halfway.
Lin Su, unfamiliar with monster theme parks, was about to ask Shi Wenze about it when he spotted a red roller coaster car plummeting from a great height, soaring back up, and then—slamming to a sudden stop at the edge of the broken track. The safety harness snapped open, and the momentum sent all the monsters flying off like bullets, flailing and shouting with joy as they splashed one after another into a distant infinity pool, sending huge plumes of water skyward. Could Disneyland top this? he wondered.
Trying to remain composed, Lin Su took a deep breath. Scorching heat and a pool landing—who the hell invented this perfect ride? Shi Wenze filled out a “Monster Companion” form for them and figured if they were going for thrills, they might as well go all out. He picked the front row and pulled Lin Su along.
The roller coaster car hung precariously on its thin rail, swaying slightly in the wind. They sat close—so close they shared the same seatbelt. With everything aligned—time, place, and atmosphere—it would almost be criminal if something didn’t happen. Lin Su gripped the safety bar tightly. His pinky brushed against Shi Wenze’s finger. It was barely a touch, just the tiniest bit of skin-to-skin contact, but the tension skyrocketed. Two square centimeters of searing heat—just enough to spark romance. Shi Wenze turned slightly toward him, and in that moment, the scene was like something out of a drama. They both felt it—a major step forward on the road to love.
Then, from behind them, a teenage monster girl in a high school uniform ruined everything by squealing, “Hold me tighter! I’m scared!” while burrowing into her boyfriend’s arms. The two cuddled shamelessly in broad daylight, instantly reducing the finger-touching front-row duo to forgotten background characters. And just like that, the adults lost. The roller coaster slowly began its ascent.
Even with Shi Wenze beside him, Lin Su still felt a bit nervous. Not everyone dreamed of flying, after all. But just as his nerves were about to peak, someone behind them started calling out his name—“Mr. Lin! Mr. Lin!”—over and over like a broken record.
Shi Wenze turned to look and saw… a fish-headed man, skin an unnatural green, flashing a wide grin with garishly red lips. Honestly, it was a bit painful to look at.
“Hello, I’m—ahhrooo!!”
The fish-headed man hadn’t even finished introducing himself when the rollercoaster whooshed straight into a plunge. Screams erupted behind them, rising and falling in waves, but Lin Su and Shi Wenze both sat upright—poised and handsome.
Shi Wenze was a given—he carried half a qilin’s blood. It wasn’t complete, but that had never stopped him from loving those free-fall rides as a kid, from thirty meters to three hundred. No sweat. Later, as a tracker, he’d endured even harsher training. This level of thrill? Child’s play.
Lin Su’s graceful composure, though, had more… strategic origin. According to the ride’s safety notice, high-definition cameras had been placed at every sharp turn. This love story hadn’t even started yet—no way was he letting a mere 150 km/h ruin his image. Even if they doubled the speed, he’d still grit his teeth and stay photogenically composed.
The wind blew so hard it was impossible to keep their eyes open at peak velocity. Amid the roar and rush, Lin Su suddenly felt the seatbelt at his waist jolt loose. Before panic could even rise, an arm swept around him, pulling him firmly into a warm chest. Shi Wenze held him tight as they flew through the air. Lin Su cracked his eyes open just enough to glimpse a sky full of twinkling stars—
—and a fish-headed man sailing past them like a comet. “…”
Shi Wenze shielded his head, and the two of them plunged straight into the center of the pool. Water rippled in silver rings around them. Lin Su’s heart was racing as he looked at Shi Wenze, standing there dripping wet in front of him. The sight was… hard to resist.
“Mr. Lin!” the fish-headed man called out again. He had landed awkwardly when he fell, and had the misfortune of being sat on by a Menghuai. His glasses had shattered, his face was bruised, and his mouth looked a little crooked—but the man still dragged himself over, determined to be polite. “Didn’t expect to meet you here! I’m Song, from Jiayong Auction House—”
Before he could finish, a three-legged softshell turtle fell from above and landed with a thunk—squarely on top of Mr. Song. “—I’m the marketing director,” came the muffled finish.
Lin Su couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. The man was truly unlucky. So, out of politeness, he offered a hand. “Sorry we had to meet like this.”
“Didn’t expect you to be a monster too, Mr. Lin,” Director Song said, struggling upright. “I’ve been meaning to visit your gallery, but since it hasn’t officially opened yet, I didn’t want to intrude.”
Lin Su didn’t bother clarifying that he was, in fact, human—nor did he want to talk business with a stranger at a time like this. Especially not when the ridiculously handsome man behind him was wearing a semi-transparent, soaking wet shirt and looked good enough to eat. A man who, by the way, didn’t eat much and could be kept on a Kaka Le Planet Snack Box budget. No need to go chasing billion-dollar deals.
“Not really convenient right now,” Lin Su said lightly. “The gallery opens next month. See you then.”
Director Song stretched out a hand like a desperate TV drama character. “Wait—!” But it was no use. Shi Wenze had already slid an arm around Lin Su’s shoulder, guiding him toward a quieter corner of the pool. “What was that guy yelling earlier—something about Cang Daming? Did you catch it?”
“Nope. Didn’t care enough,” Lin Su replied. “Just heard someone say he got beaten up and hospitalized in Russia.”
Shi Wenze blinked, trying to reconcile the image of that kind, gullible painter even Yevgenyevich trusted. “He got into a fight? Seriously?”
“Not with a person—with a bear,” Lin Su said. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Shi Wenze stared for a moment. “…Right. Very Russian.”
Just then, another wave of monsters came crashing into the pool, splashing everywhere. Lin Su frowned and instinctively leaned a little closer to Shi Wenze for cover. His timing—and expression—were perfect. If he ended up in someone’s arms tonight, he would owe it all to the waterlogged creatures of this absurd pool.
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