SES Chapter 235 Part 2

Brother Mao pointed at a movie poster near the bar. “Is she pretty?”

The blonde actress on the poster posed alluringly. Mystic, unsure of the point, said, “Yes.”

“She’s pretty, like the sun. She shines on the people around her—what’s that got to do with me? Your friends are good people—fine, you enjoy their warmth. I don’t care. There are good people all over the world—am I supposed to be responsible for all of them?”

And so Mystic began his hunger strike.

Mrs. Mao was soft-hearted and worried when he really stopped eating. Brother Mao insisted they couldn’t give in—this wasn’t about money but about principle. If hunger strikes worked, why didn’t he try going on one to reclaim disputed islands?

After dinner, Brother Mao gave Mao Wa a hundred yuan. “Tomorrow—or tonight—buy a big KFC bucket and put it under his window. If needed, use a hair dryer to blow the smell into his room…”

Lijiang—where people come and go as fate allows.

The bar remained lively. Yi Wan-San accidentally broke a glass; shards clogged the sink. Carefree, he picked them up with his bare hands. After cleaning up, he looked at his hand—three or four cuts—but the blood quickly drew back and the wounds healed almost instantly.

“Awesome,” he muttered.

Then he looked up and nearly jumped. Yan Hongsha stood there with an empty tray, staring at him.

“Why are you showing off? Want everyone to notice? Ever heard of keeping a low profile?”

Yi Wan-San laughed awkwardly, knowing she was right.

Ever since the seven ominous bamboo slips had merged with them, each person had gained a phoenix tattoo. Everyone agreed it couldn’t be just a decorative mark. Ancient texts said the power of the seven stars could change hearts, strengthen bodies, sharpen movement—even bring someone back from death. Now that each person carried part of that power—its harmful side sealed—they were practically like superheroes.

Yi Wan-San was always looking for ways to test it.

Yan Hongsha snapped, “How many times has Luo Ren told us not to draw attention? Everyone else stays low-key—why can’t you?”

Just then, Cao Yanhua walked past them on the phone, still trying to repair relations with his family.

“I can’t explain exactly what I’m doing right now, but I’m not an ordinary person anymore. I’m totally different—my whole aura has changed. Don’t judge me by normal standards, okay?”

Yi Wan-San shot Yan Hongsha a look that said: That’s low-key?

In the corner, Huo Zihong and Luo Ren sat across from each other at a table. No alcohol—just tea.

Luo Ren poured her a cup.

Huo Zihong looked at the rippling tea and spoke slowly. “No matchmaker? You came to propose yourself?”

“Yes. It shows sincerity.”

“And your parents? Not involved?”

“You know my family situation. No one can represent me except myself.”

She nodded but stayed silent for a long while. She didn’t know what to say, yet couldn’t easily agree either. She trusted Luo Ren with Mu Dai—but when the moment came, she felt strangely reluctant. Yes, Mu Dai isn’t my biological daughter, but I raised her like one. You show up, talk about marriage gifts, and just take her away—why should it be that simple?

“I need to think about it,” she said, pushing her teacup aside before standing and leaving.

Luo Ren smiled wryly. It was both unexpected and completely expected—he’d been warned it wouldn’t be easy.

At the bar, Yan Hongsha, Cao Yanhua, and Yi Wan-San stood in a row, faces full of sympathy. Luo Ren gritted his teeth—What are you all sympathizing with? Even if I get rejected, I’m still way ahead of you guys.

His phone rang. Mystic was calling, asking, “How’s it going on your end?”

Before they’d parted earlier, Mystic had reminded him about holding the wedding at a friend’s inn. Luo Ren replied cautiously now, “Pretty good. No big problems. Is your friend’s place available? After all, we don’t know them well…”

Mystic waved it off. “My friends are your friends. Besides, who am I? One word from me and it’s done!”

Thinking of past favors Mystic had received, Luo Ren wasn’t surprised.

Before hanging up, he asked, “What’s that noise there? Renovation?”

“Yes,” Mystic said calmly. “Renovation.”

After hanging up, Mystic stormed out of his room. Mao Wa, who was blowing the smell of fried chicken toward the window with a hair dryer, jumped in surprise and unplugged the extension cord.

The hair dryer fell silent.

Not far away, Brother Mao called out lazily, “Oh, you’re out? Can’t keep up the hunger strike anymore? Come on—eat.”

Mao Wa held out the bucket.

Mystic pushed it away with a solemn expression and declared, “I won’t eat. Chickens are humanity’s eternal friends.”