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Zhao Ying Jun had meticulously planned this. Miaoke listened to the demo, lavished praise on it, and was quite taken with the song. The collaboration was agreed upon with enthusiasm, efficient and straightforward, just as Lin Xian had hoped.

Shortly thereafter, the formal portion of the ball commenced. Waltz music filled the air, and elegantly dressed couples took to the dance floor, twirling gracefully. Knowing Zhao Ying Jun typically avoided dancing at such events, Lin Xian prudently stayed at the sidelines with her, munching on snacks.

Zhao Ying Jun consistently turned down dance invitations, even from numerous distinguished men. With Lin Xian by her side, she didn’t even need to directly refuse anyone. Most attendees, noticing her with a male companion, respectfully kept their distance.

Lin Xian knew his role well; he was there to sit, eat, drink, and shield her. Yet, a few eager minor celebrities and models occasionally approached to ask Zhao Ying Jun to dance. Lin Xian had to admit these men were quite charismatic and polished, resembling statues, some even being foreign models. It was clear they were drawn by Zhao Ying Jun’s affluence, possibly looking for opportunities.

For those who were overly persistent, Zhao Ying Jun wouldn’t even offer a glance, and Lin Xian would curtly decline for her: “Sorry, President Zhao is quite exhausted.”

Those men reluctantly walked away, casting frustrated looks back at Lin Xian.

“Do you find this ball dull?” Zhao Ying Jun questioned, nibbling on snacks and sipping wine while observing Lin Xian, as the music intensified.

Lin Xian didn’t visibly react. “It’s alright, not much different from Chu Shan He’s events.”

“The difference is vast; they’re entirely different leagues,” Zhao Ying Jun corrected, her gaze sweeping over the dancers. “Do you know the most lavish, high-profile event in Donghai City’s business circle each year?”

Lin Xian shook his head.

“It’s the New Year’s Eve banquet hosted by Chu Shan He on the 28th of the lunar month,” Zhao Ying Jun explained with a smile. “That’s where the real power players gather. You should see it.”

Suddenly, the music halted abruptly. The dancers stopped, turning their attention towards the entrance. Several police officers, stern-faced, had blocked the entryway. The leading officer surveyed the crowd.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Sorry for this interruption,” the officer announced. “Please stay put and cooperate with our investigation for your safety.”

It was just past nine. Lin Xian had planned to continue his chat with Zhao Ying Jun a bit longer before driving her home. But why were the police here?

The crowd murmured. The officer asked for silence and continued:

“We’ve received a tip-off that a female singer here is being targeted by a disgruntled fan who threatened her and himself after she announced her relationship recently. Though often just idle threats online, this fan may be unstable… For safety, we are here to protect her and search the area. Please remain calm and cooperate.”

Miaoke, who had just secured a collaboration with Lin Xian and Zhao Ying Jun, turned pale. She was renowned for her wholesome, sweet image, steering clear of the acting or variety show circuits, focusing purely on her singing.

She had recently made her relationship public with her childhood sweetheart, also her manager, which was well-received by most fans. Celebrities’ relationships are usually accepted nowadays and don’t impact their careers significantly. Miaoke’s career was about her talent, not just her image. Yet, controlling fans’ reactions was impossible.

“I… I want to go home!” Miaoke stammered, visibly shaken.

The officer nodded. “Don’t worry. We’ll ensure your safety. First, we need to secure this area and search it. Please, everyone, stay seated.”

After a thorough search that found no immediate threats, the crowd relaxed. However, the festive mood had evaporated, and people began to leave.

“Let’s go too, Lin Xian,” Zhao Ying Jun suggested.

Lin Xian agreed, fetched his Bentley keys, and escorted Zhao Ying Jun to the parking lot. The incident had been unsettling. Fanatic fans had caused problems too often. Lin Xian suspected that in the original timeline, this event might have seen Zhao Ying Jun caught in a shooting. Such violent incidents were rare, making it even less likely for two to occur at the same event on the same day. Now it was evident: the target was not Zhao Ying Jun but Miaoke, in a warped act of ‘devotion.’

Lin Xian pondered that in the original timeline, the shooter might have succeeded in killing Miaoke, with Zhao Ying Jun inadvertently involved. The planned shooting was a few hours away, around midnight, suggesting the assailant was likely hidden, waiting for Miaoke. But that was for the police to handle.

His priority was to safely get Zhao Ying Jun home. They approached his luxurious blue Bentley Continental GT, a standout vehicle. Zhao Ying Jun climbed in, and Lin Xian followed, starting the car and driving off swiftly.

The V12 engine hummed. Lin Xian drove quickly, passing several intersections. Zhao Ying Jun looked out, watching the scenery, then turned suddenly.

“Aren’t you going the wrong way?”

“Ah, really?” Lin Xian feigned surprise, checking the road signs. “Looks like I am. Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“You should’ve taken the right lane to the highway,” Zhao Ying Jun pointed out, amused. “Now you’ll need to detour.”

Lin Xian smiled sheepishly. “I’m not familiar with this area and don’t drive often.”

“I can tell,” Zhao Ying Jun chuckled. “You need more practice.”

“Will do,” Lin Xian replied, merging onto another highway. The night breeze played with Zhao Ying Jun’s hair.

“Lin Xian,” she began softly, “I really appreciate all your help recently. Without you, the Rhine Cat project, Professor Xu Yun’s authorization, and the theme song collaboration might not have been this successful.”

She glanced at him, her eyes reflecting the neon lights outside. “You’re very capable, not just talented, but in every way. I admire that.”

Lin Xian smiled, maintaining his speed. “It’s an honor to be appreciated by you.”

The powerful car smoothly merged onto the main highway. “If one day you decide to leave MX Company, I’ll support you,” Zhao Ying Jun said, looking ahead. “As you said, you have your ambitions. I respect that.”

“But I’m curious,” she continued, her smile bright as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting the wind play with it. “Honestly, I used to think you weren’t very ambitious. You seemed so laid-back and ordinary, just doing your job well, which was enough for me. But lately, you’ve been more proactive, more involved. It’s like you’ve found a goal. Can you tell me why?”

The speed limit was 80 km/h, but they were going faster. Lin Xian hesitated. Was Zhao Ying Jun testing him, suspecting his motives, or merely showing concern? He knew he had changed since Xu Yun’s death. He wasn’t a hero, but he felt compelled to uncover the truth and identify the killer. He was certain the killer was linked to the Genius Club. His actions were indeed calculated, aiming to gain Zhao Ying Jun’s trust to access the coveted invitation in her office. She was right; his transformation had a purpose. But how to articulate this?

“I’ve tasted success,” Lin Xian finally said, eyes on the road. “For 23 years, my life was ordinary. My biggest achievements were winning a city parkour championship in high school and hosting a few college events. Maybe I was content because I never had real aspirations. Now, I crave success and don’t want to live an ordinary life.”

Zhao Ying Jun didn’t immediately reply. She reclined in her seat, closing her eyes with a sigh. “Alright.”

A few minutes later, Zhao Ying Jun’s phone chimed. She checked the message. “Miaoke is home safely,” she informed Lin Xian. “I asked her to let me know when she arrived.”

“That’s good,” Lin Xian noted, focusing on the road.

“You know Miaoke?” a raspy voice suddenly inquired from behind.

On a high-speed highway, this was alarming! Lin Xian and Zhao Ying Jun turned, shocked. A disheveled man emerged from the narrow back seat, clutching a crumpled bouquet of flowers. He produced an old double-barreled shotgun from among the flowers, aiming it at Lin Xian’s head.

“Turn around and drive,” he demanded, his eyes wild and voice harsh. “Take me to Miaoke now!”