Chapter 2: Lu Zhuonian was already suspicious
Lu Zhuonian turned around.
He was very tall. Chen Zemian, in order to listen to the phone, had already tiptoed and leaned in slightly to get closer.
With Lu Zhuonian’s sudden movement, Chen Zemian immediately lost his balance — head heavy, feet light — and stumbled straight into Lu Zhuonian’s arms.
Although Chen Zemian was terribly drunk, his body’s instincts were still sharp. Just before his forehead crashed into Lu Zhuonian’s chest, he quickly grabbed onto something stable to steady himself.
It was Lu Zhuonian’s arm.
Through the high-end fabric of his clothes, Chen Zemian could feel the finely sculpted lines of a well-trained physique, like something carved by a master’s knife — firm, full muscles and taut veins, like a leopard coiled and ready to spring, brimming with explosive power.
Chen Zemian had once possessed such beautiful muscles himself — but sadly, that body was already dead.
The body he now inhabited was slim and frail. To build up that kind of perfect muscle definition again, he would first have to bulk up and then spend half a year grinding away under high-intensity training at the gym, just to carve out a rough outline.
Even then, it would just be for show — it wouldn’t radiate this kind of raw, powerful feeling.
In the original novel, the protagonist Lu Zhuonian stood at the pinnacle of power. Wherever he went, bodyguards followed, and he carried himself with a lofty detachment, rarely getting his hands dirty. Yet among his character traits, it was noted that he had a passion for combat sports.
He enjoyed all kinds of extreme sports.
Touching this muscle now — it fit the character perfectly.
Chen Zemian, full of envy, gave the taut, firm muscle a little squeeze. Before he had time to mourn his own lost vitality and strength, a sudden realization hit him like a bolt of lightning:
The man in front of him was possibly, probably, maybe… really was the male protagonist, Lu Zhuonian.
Crap.
It was said that Lu Zhuonian had a severe obsession with cleanliness, hated anything getting too close, and absolutely loathed physical contact.
How had he managed to stir up such a massive disaster?!
On the very first night of transmigrating into this world, not only had Chen Zemian failed to hold back his temper and smashed Wu Xu, one of Second Young Master Xu’s lackeys — he had now, recklessly and foolishly, collided with his only possible protector.
Chen Zemian slowly lifted his head and locked eyes with Lu Zhuonian, whose face remained expressionless.
On the other end of the phone, Xiao Kesong was still talking, but no one was listening anymore.
Lu Zhuonian put away his phone.
Chen Zemian quietly shifted his gaze away.
As long as he didn’t feel awkward, the one who would feel awkward would be Lu Zhuonian.
Chen Zemian let go of Lu Zhuonian’s arm and casually took half a step back, appearing calm and indifferent on the surface — though in reality, he was already secretly scanning for an escape route.
But just as he thought he had safely backed away, in the very next second, Lu Zhuonian suddenly reached out and grabbed Chen Zemian’s wrist in a flash.
Lu Zhuonian’s grip was shockingly strong, clamping down like an iron vise, making Chen Zemian let out a small, involuntary whimper.
Weren’t you supposed to hate being touched? Bro, why the hell are you grabbing me?
Let go, you bastard!
Chen Zemian’s nose stung, and his eyes instantly turned red.
For the record, if it had been his original body, his pain tolerance would have easily handled this level of force. The reason he couldn’t help but let out a noise was purely because Chen Zhe’s body was too fragile.
Completely incapable of handling pain.
Hopelessly delicate.
A layer of mist blurred Chen Zemian’s vision, and on the verge of tears, he glared angrily up at Lu Zhuonian.
“How did you get here?” Lu Zhuonian yanked Chen Zemian closer, lowered his gaze, and asked coldly, “Where are my bodyguards?”
Chen Zemian stammered, unable to answer.
If he went all out, he believed he could use his fighting skills to kick Lu Zhuonian away and make a run for it.
But a person couldn’t — or at least shouldn’t — completely offend both major powers the very first night after transmigrating into a book.
He had to survive first, right?
Sure, he was determined to take revenge on the young masters who humiliated Chen Zhe, but that needed careful planning. Besides, according to the original novel, the male protagonist was actually quite dignified — he never acted like a bully.
So the real question was: how could he escape without kicking Lu Zhuonian to the ground?
Seeing Chen Zemian’s eyes go unfocused and realizing he was spacing out, Lu Zhuonian tightened his grip a little more and said coldly, “Answer me.”
Chen Zemian wanted to whimper again.
It really hurt.
Fighting back the urge to sob, Chen Zemian bit down hard on the inside of his lip and forced himself to endure the intense pain. Before he could say anything else, a single word slipped out:
“Pain.”
Lu Zhuonian: “…”
Chen Zemian: “…”
Lu Zhuonian stared at the slight redness of Chen Zemian’s nose tip and silently thought, ‘So delicate,’ before slowly releasing his grip.
A red mark encircled Chen Zemian’s slender wrist, looking pitiful and fragile.
It had been a long time since Chen Zemian had felt this humiliated. He clutched his wrist, lowered his head, and looked left and right, as if searching for something.
People tend to act busy when they panic.
Lu Zhuonian asked, “What are you looking for?”
Chen Zemian, filled with anger he dared not show, stubbornly squeezed out two words:
“My dignity.”
Lu Zhuonian pulled out a silk handkerchief and wiped his hands, giving Chen Zemian a very strange look as he said, “How did I never realize you were this… abstract?”
“……”
At this point, Chen Zemian just wanted to run — to disappear from Lu Zhuonian’s sight, find somewhere to quietly sort out his thoughts, and come up with a proper plan.
In the original novel, Lu Zhuonian was a man of few words and decisive actions. His attitude toward Chen Zhe was rather indifferent — he neither cared much nor went out of his way to make things difficult. Yet even without Lu Zhuonian’s intervention, Chen Zhe had already been tormented badly enough by the other young masters.
If tonight Chen Zemian handled things poorly and caught Lu Zhuonian’s displeasure, he wouldn’t even need to lift a finger — a casual word from him would be enough to have countless others step forward to grind Chen Zemian down.
Forced by circumstances, Chen Zemian had no choice but to lower his head.
Reluctantly, he expressed his thanks, using it as a way to end the conversation: “Thank you, Young Master Lu. It’s getting late, so I won’t bother you any longer.”
“Wait.”
Lu Zhuonian stopped him, tossing the handkerchief into the trash. Not only did he not let Chen Zemian leave as he’d hoped, he even asked coldly: “I sent two bodyguards to take you to the hospital. Where are they?”
Chen Zemian froze when he heard that.
Uh… the bodyguards.
Earlier, before he made his way down the corridor to find Lu Zhuonian, he vaguely remembered that two people had tried to drag him off in the opposite direction. Chen Zemian had resisted a little, and in response, the bodyguards had used a professional grappling move to twist his arms behind his back and push him forward.
That overly professional and textbook-perfect grappling technique had triggered his muscle memory. Instinctively, Chen Zemian had twisted free, reversed his grip, and — with a quick chop — struck both bodyguards on the side of their necks, right over their carotid arteries…
Chen Zemian hesitated, carefully choosing his words: “They… fell asleep.”
Lu Zhuonian: “?”
Chen Zemian gave him a harmless, ingratiating smile.
Two minutes later, Lu Zhuonian stood silently, looking down at the two bodyguards collapsed in the hallway, and took a deep breath.
Chen Zemian stood three steps away, looking at the ceiling, the floor, the emergency exit sign — anywhere but at Lu Zhuonian.
Lu Zhuonian actually laughed in disbelief.
The head of the security team checked the two unconscious men and reported in a low voice:
“Young Master Lu, the two of them suffered heavy strikes to the carotid artery, causing a brief loss of blood flow to the brain and resulting in syncope. The person who attacked them…”
The captain gave Chen Zemian a glance, a trace of confusion flashing across his face, then continued: “…the attacker struck cleanly and precisely, with just the right amount of force — enough to knock them out in one blow, but without causing excessive injury. A real expert.”
Expert.
Lu Zhuonian slowly turned over that word in his mind, images flashing back to the moment when Chen Zhe had suddenly popped into his personal space while he was on the phone — that abrupt, completely unexpected movement.
He hadn’t heard a single footstep. Hadn’t sensed Chen Zhe’s presence at all.
Lu Zhuonian carefully replayed the scene in his mind.
If Chen Zhe hadn’t been coming over just to eavesdrop on a call — if instead, he’d struck with the same swift and precise technique he used on the bodyguards — would he, Lu Zhuonian, have been able to react faster than his seasoned, battle-hardened security men?
Would he have been able to dodge Chen Zhe’s attack?
The Lu family’s bodyguards were all carefully selected, most of them former armed police or mercenaries. Someone capable of knocking out two bodyguards in such a short time wasn’t unheard of — but no matter how you looked at it, that person shouldn’t have been Chen Zhe.
Chen Zhe had no history of martial arts or combat training.
How could he suddenly, overnight, become the “expert” the security captain was describing?
At least now there was an explanation for Wu Xu’s head injury.
Everything Chen Zhe had displayed tonight was completely different from the past — not just his skills, but his whole demeanor.
The Chen Zhe who used to be as transparent and innocent as a blank sheet of paper had suddenly turned into a mass of dense fog, making him hard to read, impossible to predict.
Such a change was dangerous.
And intriguing.
Lu Zhuonian’s gaze darkened as he silently sized up Chen Zhe from two meters away.
Chen Zemian gave him a polite, if slightly awkward, smile.
Lu Zhuonian kept his eyes on him and quietly ordered the head of security: “Pull the surveillance footage.”
The moment Chen Zemian heard that Lu Zhuonian wanted to check the security footage, a wave of panic hit him.
Combat technique was just like martial arts styles — a trained eye could immediately tell the system, school, and background of someone’s moves.
If Lu Zhuonian reviewed the footage of his fight, it would basically be the same as exposing Chen Zemian’s true identity on the spot.
Chen Zhe wasn’t supposed to have such skills.
Lu Zhuonian was already suspicious.
Desperately trying to save the situation, Chen Zemian said: “Young Master Lu, wouldn’t it be a bit inappropriate to pull the hotel’s surveillance footage like this? Lushui Pavilion is a top-tier private dining club, its whole reputation relies on privacy. If you let outsiders view the surveillance casually, it could really hurt their image.”
Lu Zhuonian’s tone was cool: “Lushui Pavilion is a Lu family property.”
That explained why he had felt secure enough to take a call without bodyguards by his side earlier.
Who would’ve thought that in just two or three minutes — within a distance of barely two hundred meters — such a major incident would happen?
Chen Zemian hadn’t realized that Lushui Pavilion was owned by the Lu family. A flash of surprise crossed his eyes.
Lu Zhuonian noticed the change in Chen Zhe’s emotions and continued to watch him closely, interrogating in a calm tone: “Is there anything you want to say?”
The implication was obvious — ‘Before I pull the surveillance footage, I’m giving you a chance to explain.’
Unfortunately, Chen Zemian completely misunderstood.
After all, they had just been talking about the ownership of Lushui Pavilion.
Chen Zemian, genuinely amazed, blurted out, “I really didn’t expect that.”
Lu Zhuonian’s brows furrowed ever so slightly. He gave Chen Zemian a look, signaling him to continue.
So Chen Zemian, eager to please but half-hearted, started buttering him up: “Young Master Lu, you’re incredible. Such a tasteful place is actually your private property — hardly anyone knows that… Xu Shaoyang even dared to set up a Hongmen banquet* here. He’s doomed to fail.”
Lu Zhuonian cut straight to the point: “Would he have succeeded anywhere else? You can even take down my bodyguards. Are you really afraid of a Xu Shaoyang?”
That word — “dare” — was very pointed.
Chen Zemian mumbled defensively, “I didn’t know they were your people, Young Master Lu.”
“You didn’t know they were mine?”
Lu Zhuonian mulled it over for a moment, his voice taking on a slightly mocking tone: “You even called my name at the time. Forgotten already?”
Chen Zemian had been racking his brain for a way to explain how he hadn’t recognized Lu Zhuonian.
But Lu Zhuonian’s casual mention of “forgotten” suddenly gave him an idea.
If he insisted that he had memory loss —
no matter what anyone asked him later, he could just brush it all off with “I don’t remember.”
It sounded ridiculous, shameless even, but honestly?
It was a pretty solid strategy under the circumstances.
Especially since he couldn’t think of any reasonable explanation that would convince someone as sharp, suspicious, and calculating as Lu Zhuonian.
Chen Zemian rubbed his temples and, deciding to just go all in, replied: “Yeah, I forgot. I must’ve drunk too much. Got some memory loss. Really didn’t recognize you.”
Lu Zhuonian seemed genuinely unprepared for how shameless Chen Zemian was being.
He stayed silent for a few seconds before speaking: “Chen Zhe, do you know what happened to the last person who dared to spout nonsense in front of me?”
Even Chen Zemian felt that blaming his memory loss on drinking was a little too absurd.
He gave a light cough, his brain working at full speed.
Got it.
Chen Zemian had a sudden flash of inspiration and shifted the blame onto Wu Xu: “Just now, over at Second Young Master Xu’s side, Wu Xu suddenly attacked and hit me in the head.”
Sometimes, people laugh when they’re just too speechless.
Lu Zhuonian’s sword-like eyebrows knitted together slightly: “Wu Xu hit your head, but he ended up the one bleeding? What was that — some kind of magical energy transfer?”
Chen Zemian: “……”
Everyone knows the rule: one lie demands a hundred more to cover it up.
But once you start spouting nonsense, it’s really hard to stop.
Gritting his teeth, Chen Zemian made up more nonsense: “I fought back too. He’s bleeding because of external injuries. I lost my memory because of internal injuries.”
“Oh, internal injuries,” Lu Zhuonian nodded, as if understanding, “very good.”
Very good?
Chen Zemian had no idea what was so “good” about his supposed internal injuries — and frankly, he didn’t want to know.
He only knew that if Lu Zhuonian kept interrogating him like this, he was bound to spill even more outrageous lies.
Luckily, Lu Zhuonian didn’t press further for the moment.
Instead, he pulled out his phone, his thumb moving quickly across the screen, as if replying to a message.
Chen Zemian waited for a bit, then carefully asked, “Young Master Lu, can I leave now?”
Lu Zhuonian answered calmly and firmly: “No.”
Chen Zemian almost blacked out on the spot: “Is there… anything else you need?”
Lu Zhuonian flipped his phone around, almost like an FBI agent flashing a badge, pressing the screen right up close to Chen Zemian’s face: “Then explain to me — if you only hurt your head, why has your fighting ability also suddenly gotten so impressive?”
On the phone screen, a surveillance video was playing. It showed the footage from the hallway.
In the video, Chen Zhe — his hands pinned behind his back — bent slightly at the waist, twisted his arms into an almost impossible angle, grabbed the bodyguard’s wrist with a reverse grip, and used the leverage to perform a standing side-flip, breaking free from the hold.
The moment he landed, he immediately chopped the bodyguard’s neck with a swift strike, not even sparing him a glance before whirling around and striking the second bodyguard in the same manner.
Both bodyguards collapsed to the ground within a second.
The video was played at half-speed, but even slowed down, Chen Zhe’s side-flip was still so fast that it blurred on the screen, making it hard to see exactly how he moved.
The entire video clip lasted just seven seconds — fourteen seconds at half-speed — and it quickly looped back to replay.
Lu Zhuonian turned off the screen, the glow of the phone fading: “Anything else you want to say?”
Chen Zemian lifted his eyes to meet Lu Zhuonian’s gaze, his expression sincere: “Could you send me a copy of the video? I didn’t realize I looked that cool.”
Lu Zhuonian’s fingers unconsciously tightened around the phone, his refined upbringing barely holding back the urge to smash the device into Chen Zemian’s face.
Reading the room, sizing up people — these were essential survival skills in the elite social circles.
Lu Zhuonian hadn’t been good at it initially.
When he was younger, he suffered for his lack of discernment, and so later, he deliberately made it a point to study and master it.
Lu Zhuonian was always an outstanding student — no matter how difficult something was, as long as he put his mind to it, he would achieve results that impressed everyone.
He observed everyone he met without drawing attention, persistently gathering more “samples” and summarizing patterns, until now, he could usually predict a person’s thoughts and intentions just from a glance at their eyes or subtle body language.
But today, that honed skill was repeatedly failing him in front of Chen Zhe.
Chen Zhe seemed to exist outside normal logic — he didn’t fit into any of the patterns Lu Zhuonian had compiled over the past twenty years.
There was something about him — a contradictory kind of change — something Lu Zhuonian couldn’t fully see through, couldn’t fully understand.
Reason told Lu Zhuonian he should eliminate unstable variables.
But the human instinct to explore the unknown made it almost impossible for him to resist the urge to personally uncover the truth.
Lu Zhuonian hadn’t felt emotional turbulence like this in a long time.
He stared at Chen Zhe, his expression nearly unchanged, but his voice was so cold it was almost frozen: “I asked you to explain why getting hit on the head made your fighting skills improve.”
Chen Zemian opened his mouth, instinctively wanting to answer, ‘Maybe it unblocked my meridians.’
But just a second before he could start spouting nonsense, his long-dead survival instincts suddenly kicked in.
His sixth sense blared a desperate warning:
Do not further provoke Lu Zhuonian.
Trying to be discreet, Chen Zemian sneaked a glance at Lu Zhuonian’s face.
Lu Zhuonian remained calm and composed, but sensing Chen Zhe’s gaze, he looked back at him — cold and unflinching.
Chen Zemian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he nervously swallowed.
No wonder he’s the main character in a “male-centric” novel — his depth of mind and hidden schemes were truly unfathomable.
This Lu Zhuonian looked calm and composed on the surface, but in reality, he was anything but safe.
He was extremely dangerous.
**TN
Hongmen banquet – a historical reference to a trap disguised as a banquet — basically, an ambush.
