“The President's Surrogacy”.

16

Han Zhengxi stepped out of the elevator, holding Xia Zixin’s bag in his hand. He glanced at the signs on the wall—this was indeed the inpatient ward. Hurrying down the corridor, he hoped to find her quickly. As he turned the corner, he spotted her through the glass window—Xia Zixin, with another man. Their interaction seemed peculiar, as if words hung heavily in the air between them. Without hesitation, Han Zhengxi strode toward them.

Just as he reached the door and grabbed the handle to enter—

Slap! The man struck Xia Zixin’s face with force. His expression twisted with anger, he spat, "Xia Zixin! Take a good look in the mirror and see your own ugliness. You will never be worthy!" Zixin collapsed to the ground instantly.

At that moment, Han Zhengxi flung the door open and rushed inside. He knelt beside Zixin, concern etched on his face. "Zixin, are you all right?"

She shook her head, signaling she was fine. But the sight of her bleeding hand caused Han Zhengxi’s fury to ignite. He stood abruptly, grabbed Luo Yiwei by the collar, and slammed him against the wall, his clenched fist trembling with rage. His eyes burned as he demanded, "Why did you hit her?"

Luo Yiwei remained defiant, pushing him away with a sharp shove to create distance. He straightened his clothes with a sneer and said coldly, "Perhaps you should ask her instead."

"You bastard!" Han Zhengxi, glancing at Zixin on the floor, roared like a lion unleashed. His fist lashed out, landing heavily on Luo Yiwei’s face.

Blood trickled from the corner of Luo Yiwei’s mouth. He touched the wound, his lips curling into a faint, chilling smile. "It seems you’re just another man fooled by her appearance," he taunted, his own fist tightening in retaliation.

Just as they were about to exchange blows again, Xia Zixin staggered to her feet, stepping between them. She blocked Han Zhengxi with her body and, looking at Luo Yiwei, said firmly, "Let’s pretend none of this ever happened. Leave."

"Xia Zixin, you’d better put away your shamelessness before your other man finds out." Leave, just because she told him to? He never took orders from anyone, let alone her.

"What did you say?" Han Zhengxi’s fury flared even hotter, his fist poised to strike again. But Zixin clung to his arm, shaking her head desperately. She knew what consequences would follow if he attacked. "Zhengxi, let’s go."

Since it had come to this, she decided to leave. She didn’t want to stay here a moment longer. Clutching the irate Han Zhengxi, she dragged him away without looking back.

The glass door quivered behind them as Luo Yiwei stood in its shadow, wiping the blood from his mouth. He swallowed his rage and stormed out of the corridor.

Xia Zixin!

He would not let her off so easily.

Han Zhengxi didn’t press her with questions. After taking her to the outpatient clinic on the ground floor to have her wounds dressed, the two of them sat in the hospital’s garden.

"Does your hand still hurt?" His Mandarin wasn’t perfect, but Zixin understood his meaning.

"It’s fine now. But why did you come to the inpatient ward?"

He tapped her on the forehead playfully, smiling. "Because a certain silly girl forgot to take her bag. I had no choice but to deliver it." He held up her bag, swinging it slightly before her eyes. Only then did Zixin remember she had left in such haste that she had forgotten to grab it.

"Hehe, thank you so much."

Han Zhengxi ruffled her hair and flashed that radiant smile again. It brought a fleeting warmth to her heart, but she knew it couldn’t heal the wound inside her. Some scars, once inflicted, never truly fade.

Hong Kong’s night remained as enchanting as ever, the neon lights creating a kaleidoscope of dazzling colors. The city pulsed with life, signaling the start of its vibrant nightlife.

The main districts for night activities were Tsim Sha Tsui, Yau Ma Tei, and Mong Kok in Kowloon, as well as Central and Wan Chai in Hong Kong Island. Among them, the most famous was Lan Kwai Fong in Central—a compact area of Wellington and D’Aguilar Streets that transformed from a business district by day into a nightlife haven by night. Meanwhile, Wan Chai and Causeway Bay offered more affordable bars, lounges, and discos. Yau Ma Tei and Mong Kok were synonymous with red-light districts, housing small nightclubs, dance halls, and steam bathhouses.

Wherever nightlife flourished, one could find the shadow of an unyielding underworld organization—He Men.

The very mention of He Men sent shivers down spines. Ruthless and unrelenting, their modus operandi was infamous. After establishing dominance through sheer force, they transitioned into an economic empire, building a kingdom of the night—a feat attributed to He Zhanyan.

Tonight, the heart of Central was livelier than ever. A luxurious club celebrated its grand opening, its bold and brilliant name illuminated in the ambient glow—Night.

Seated in a corner booth, a man held a glass of whiskey in one hand, his other arm draped lazily over the back of the sofa. His deep, brooding eyes studied the drink, his demeanor exuding a quiet intensity.

Luo Yiwei strode purposefully across the grand hall, pausing at the staircase to scan the surroundings. Spotting his target, he made his way to the booth without a word, sinking into the sofa with a sullen air. His posture spoke volumes of his lingering fury.

"It seems you’re in quite a mood tonight. Should I get you a glass of ice water?" He Zhanyan swirled his whiskey, casting a sly glance at Luo Yiwei.

Luo Yiwei returned the look, grabbing a glass of whiskey from the table and downing it in one gulp. Reaching for a refill, he found the bottle empty. With a scowl, he muttered, "What kind of host doesn’t keep his table stocked with alcohol?"

He Zhanyan chuckled lightly. "Drowning your sorrows only deepens them," he said, his gaze drifting to another corner of the room. It seemed more guests were arriving.