Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Wager

Seated at an opulent, lavish round table was an American man with distinctly European heritage. His golden hair was neatly slicked behind his ears, and his impeccably tailored suit spoke of his noble status. His fair face bore the striking features and prominent nose typical of European aristocracy. With a smoldering cigar pinched between his fingers, he was flanked by bodyguards who stood discreetly behind him, their professionalism rendering them as inconspicuous as shadows.

The young man with golden hair rose to his feet and embraced Huo Lingtian. The two greeted each other like old friends reunited after a long separation, their manner intimate and warm. Observing their master’s attitude, those behind them sensibly retreated a few steps.

“Huo, it’s been a while. I thought your old man had locked you up in China, keeping you under house arrest!” The blond man spoke flawless Mandarin.

“Vers Vegin, I don’t have as much free time as you!” Huo Lingtian shot back, feigning annoyance.

It was at this moment that the golden-haired man noticed something amiss. His usually reserved and unsentimental friend had actually brought a female companion along, which was truly out of character. The beautiful Eastern girl now sat by his side, neither outshined nor overshadowed, as if they were in perfect harmony.

Vers’s lips curled with a knowing, playful smile as he focused all his attention on Rong Qing. He presented himself with the grace and gentility of a nobleman, every word from his clear, melodious voice brimming with a subtle, intoxicating charm. “Miss, you’re in luck tonight. Would you mind joining me for a couple of rounds?”

Any ordinary woman, upon receiving an invitation from such a handsome princely figure, would be willing to risk everything just to please Vers Vegin. But Rong Qing, accustomed to the parade of beautiful people in the entertainment industry, was utterly immune to the charms of such a flamboyant man.

“Oh, is that so?” Rong Qing, who had moments ago appeared lively and eager, now wore a shy smile. She gingerly placed her hard-earned chips on the table and asked, “Is this enough?”

Good grief! Was she really offering just a handful of coins to gamble with him? Was she mocking his status or deliberately making fun of him? Everyone knew that Vers Vegin’s minimum bet was never less than a million; these few coins were more suited to dismissing a beggar! Good breeding and noble etiquette kept him from cursing aloud. Watching her so brazenly toy with him, Vers’s face twisted in barely restrained fury, while Rong Qing felt a surge of satisfaction at having unsettled him.

“Vers, that’s enough! If you want to play, I’ll play with you. My woman is not someone you can trifle with,” Huo Lingtian said in a low, commanding voice. The air of authority he exuded forced the notorious playboy to temper his approach.

Vers heeded the warning, for he knew Huo Lingtian was not one to be trifled with. He had suffered dearly at this man’s hands in the past, losses he could not soon forget. Only after forming an alliance and cooperating did they manage to turn the tide.

“Of course, with Young Master Huo as my opponent, tonight will be a night to remember!”

With a clap, Vers signaled, and a professional dealer emerged from a concealed door. The easy camaraderie of moments before gave way to a tense, competitive atmosphere.

They were about to play stud poker, a game particularly popular in Hong Kong and Macau. At the start, each person is dealt a hole card; after the second card, the player with the best showing decides the bet. Others may choose to call, raise, fold, or go all in. The initial bets were modest, each wager at a hundred thousand.

At first, both men adopted a relaxed demeanor, winning and losing in turn while discussing recent events on the surface, their true thoughts hidden beneath. In such a high-stakes game, absolute focus was essential.

“I heard your shipment got intercepted by the local gangsters,” Vers remarked casually. He wasn’t worried about Huo Lingtian’s resources or competence; he was simply curious who would dare cross this formidable boss. Such recklessness was astonishing.

Huo Lingtian raised an eyebrow indifferently, his hands moving unhurriedly as he matched the bet with another ten—just a few crates of outdated equipment.

“Need my help?” Vers asked.

“Oh?” Huo Lingtian’s gaze flickered, noticing Vers’s momentary pause as he checked his hole card. Huo called the bet with ease. “My men can handle it. Our shipment will arrive at the port tomorrow night. American police are not to be underestimated.”

Vers studied his cards. He had hoped to distract Huo Lingtian with conversation, but his friend’s mind remained as sharp and cunning as ever. Clearly, he had been outmaneuvered again. Without hesitation, he folded.

Huo Lingtian feigned regret as he revealed his hand—two black kings, just a pair, while Vers had a straight. The trick had worked. Vers found himself reassessing this unpredictable genius across the table; his thinking was far beyond the ordinary. Perhaps, after five years of gambling and five years of losses, this was the first time Vers truly sensed the vast gulf between them.

The game continued. Vers glanced at Rong Qing’s eyes, bright as polished onyx, her smile crescent as the moon. He grew ever more ruthless in his play, but she swept up his fortune with near-overwhelming superiority, pocketing almost all his money. Vers, no longer the dashing, carefree gentleman, now looked defeated and desolate. Huo Lingtian ended the game with a gentle, “Qing is tired and needs to go to bed,” leaving Vers speechless.

Watching the tall man cradle the sleepy woman, who clung to him like a lazy kitten, Vers saw the tenderness in his gestures, as if the vast world beyond was no longer of any consequence.

In that moment, Vers understood: Huo Lingtian, for all his godlike abilities and talents, could not escape the bonds of human emotion. The woman at his side was both his greatest vulnerability and the last remnant of his humanity.

Rong Qing, too tired to keep her eyes open, lay sprawled across Huo Lingtian’s back, arms wrapped around his neck, her head nestled against his broad shoulders as she drifted in and out of sleep. Huo Lingtian, noticing the curious stares from the Americans around them, gave her a playful smack before lifting her up in full view of everyone.

His steps were steady and sure; not once did she jostle or sway. In this way, he carried her all the way back, openly displaying a distinctly Chinese romance on American soil.

Back at the hotel, Rong Qing collapsed into bed. She was soon awakened, however, by the insistent ringing of her phone.

“Rong Qing, you’ve been missing for days without so much as a call! If your assistant hadn’t told me you were in America, I’d have thought you’d been kidnapped!” Director Wang Zhang’s voice erupted with fury, though there was an unmistakable note of fondness beneath it.

You really hit the nail on the head, old man! Rong Qing thought to herself. That scare and her disappearance had already been quietly covered up by Huo Lingtian; she didn’t want her loved ones to worry.

“Director Zhang, I just came to America for a short vacation. You know how an artist’s private life can be...” she began.

“Hmph, as if I don’t know. Those paparazzi are everywhere—be careful!” Wang Zhang interrupted with a sigh of exasperation. “Anyway, get ready. There’s a premiere this afternoon at the Grand Theatre in Las Vegas. Don’t be late.”

“Wait… What—” Before she could finish, the call was abruptly cut off. Director, even if you’re in a hurry, you’ve got to at least finish your sentence!

Rong Qing ran a hand through her wild, unkempt hair and glanced in the mirror. She was still in her pajamas, one shoulder bared, her hair a tangled mess. A glance at the clock—11:40.

“Oh—heavens!” she gasped. Time was pressing and there was no way she could style her hair or coordinate an outfit. This was her first event in America, and it had caught her completely off guard.

She quickly freshened up and contacted a renowned local stylist. As for her dress, she simply picked one from the selection Huo Lingtian had prepared for her.

She wore a dress from Master David’s international autumn collection. The patchwork chiffon gown was crafted from a single piece of vintage printed fabric; the forest pattern on the bodice paired harmoniously with the ruffled hem below. A sheer black mesh at the waist revealed glimpses of her fair thighs, while the dress hugged her alluring figure and showcased the simple elegance of her collarbones—the very picture of Eastern beauty. Bright yellow pumps at her feet completed her graceful ensemble.

After the stylist finished weaving her glossy black hair into an elegant updo, with numbered braids falling delicately over her forehead and accentuating her features, Rong Qing picked up a vintage leather clutch and, escorted by a private car, arrived at the Las Vegas Grand Theatre.

Amid the extravagant, open, and romantic atmosphere of America, their promotional poster—evocative of 1980s China, with its period setting and composition—stood out as a unique masterpiece. Chen Hao’s rustic appearance, Li Mengjie’s somber countenance, and Ling Fei’s resolute expression all evoked the splendor and background of that era.

This poster, so rich in the cultural and historical heritage of China, drew many Americans to pause and admire it. Clusters of them chatted in unfamiliar tongues, pointing and commenting on the faces depicted.

Rong Qing entered the hall Director Zhang had mentioned. Since she had arrived early, the crew was still setting up the venue and adjusting the posters, with only a few familiar faces from the team scattered about. Director Wang Zhang’s booming Mandarin startled everyone present.

“Can’t you understand plain speech?” Wang Zhang shouted, crushing the water bottle in his hand, while the translator trailed nervously behind him like a frightened lamb. Upon seeing Rong Qing arrive, radiant and polished, his irritation softened somewhat.

At last, someone he could rely on had arrived. With a grand gesture, Wang Zhang welcomed Rong Qing under his wing. Many Americans watched as the famous director transformed in her presence, treating the beautiful Eastern woman with respect and warmth. Their curiosity and esteem for her status only grew.

In recent years, as international cooperation and exchange have flourished, countless Chinese-language films have entered the global market. Yet rarely had there been such a high-profile and domestically cherished event. Not only was the promotional trailer for “Splendid Years” being screened at the venue’s largest hall, but a massive team had been mobilized for the occasion. In every aspect—from the recording of the trailer to the release of the posters—it was a grand production of the highest order.

———End of chapter———

Dear readers, what’s going on? There have been far fewer clicks lately.