The black-haired guest received the captain’s solemn promise and nodded in satisfaction, turning back with Ge Zhu.
They had only walked a few steps when a commotion erupted from the civilian boarding area. Jiang Luo turned to see a crew member roughly tossing a civilian off the ship, sending the man splashing into the water and scrambling back to shore in a sorry state.
The crewman was large and imposing, face full of menace. He gripped the ship’s railing and shouted at the drenched man, “Trying to board without a ticket? Get lost! If I see you again, I’ll beat you every time!”
The man on the shore had taken a punch to the face; his nose bled down across his face. He flinched but summoned his courage. “I had a ticket—but you tore it up—”
“Still lying?” the crewman sneered.
The thrown-off man froze on the spot, then silently turned and left with his head down.
A nearby crew member leaned toward Jiang Luo and said, “His name’s Cheng Li. Worst temper on the ship. He abandoned his wife and kid, bullies poor people, and lies like it’s breathing. If you ever need anything, best not go to him.”
Down below, Cheng Li spat into the water, cursed a few more times, and stomped off.
Jiang Luo and Ge Zhu, having finished watching the show, said goodbye to the crew member and left.
On the way, Ge Zhu asked, “Jiang Luo, did that first mate Winston really harass you?”
Surprisingly, Jiang Luo—who had looked furious earlier—smiled.
He had discovered a secret about the malicious ghost.
Well, not so much a secret—more like a joke. The malicious ghost who desired him didn’t seem to know how to express desire at all.
During the inspection, the malicious ghost’s touches had been provocative and suggestive, but always slightly off, like lust flailing aimlessly in his hands. He wore an easy, mocking smile, but Jiang Luo could sense the brooding frustration underneath, with nowhere to go.
How laughable.
Chi You—the all-powerful malicious ghost, the cunning head of the Chi family—didn’t even know how to have sex.
The moment Jiang Luo realized that, he nearly burst out laughing.
He mocked Chi You wildly in his heart. Every time he recalled Chi You’s menacing “I’m going to f*ck you” line from before, he felt deep regret.
Why had he used that protective talisman back in the alley? In hindsight, there was no way Chi You would’ve known what to do. At most, it would’ve been some clumsy groping, like one of those censored movie love scenes. What a waste. A complete waste of a talisman!
Under Ge Zhu’s confused gaze, Jiang Luo suppressed a laugh, cleared his throat, and opened the door. “His actions made me uncomfortable. Anyway, let’s not talk about him.”
Ge Zhu followed him inside. Once Jiang Luo closed the door, he flopped onto the couch and groaned, “Pretending to be rich is so exhausting.”
Ge Zhu had a kind of monk-like aura, as if he’d never touched the smell of money. To change that vibe, he’d even put on several chunky gold chains, so heavy they were hurting his neck.
Jiang Luo stepped onto the balcony. Ge Zhu removed his gold chains, exhaling in relief, and followed him out. Looking down, they saw that more than half of the passengers had already boarded.
After watching for a while, Ge Zhu said, “That’s strange…”
“I haven’t seen any children among the people boarding.”
Jiang Luo frowned and scanned the crowd carefully. “You’re right, there aren’t any.”
Suddenly, Ge Zhu’s eyes lit up as he pointed below. “Look, Wenren Lian and the others are boarding.”
Jiang Luo looked toward the civilian boarding passage, where a few of their companions had just stepped onto the ship.
They returned inside from the balcony. Ge Zhu noticed an invitation and a black box placed on the coffee table. He picked them up and read through them. “Jiang Luo, this is an invitation to a ball.”
Jiang Luo walked over, took the invitation, and read it.
Even though the Angonise lacked electronics, there was no shortage of entertainment for the wealthy.
Tonight, the day the Angonise set sail, a ball would be held in the grand ballroom. Both the wealthy and civilians were allowed to attend. However, there was a peculiar rule: the rich were required to wear half-masks, and before the ball began, they would draw lots together with the civilians. If a person drew a card bearing a crown symbol, they would become a “Master” of the ball; if the card bore a chain, they would become a “Slave.”
Masters had the right to choose a Slave, and Slaves had no right to refuse.
The rules were bold, but the invitation merely extended the offer—it wasn’t mandatory to participate.
However, accepting meant agreeing to the rules.
Jiang Luo said thoughtfully, “I’m guessing there’s an invitation like this in your room too.”
Ge Zhu went to check. Soon, he returned with the same invitation and a silver box. “You guessed right. Mine is identical.”
The two opened their boxes. Inside each was a mask that covered the upper half of the face.
Jiang Luo’s was a black mask. A ruby on the side formed a blazing red rose, and black feathers were pinned near the ear. It was mysterious and extravagant, like something a noble from Western mythology might wear.
He gently lifted the mask and glanced at Ge Zhu’s. His mask was silver, with a much simpler design.
Ge Zhu hesitated. “Jiang Luo, are we really going to this ball? This lottery rule gives me a bad feeling.”
“I feel the same,” Jiang Luo shrugged, concealing the curiosity and excitement the rules stirred in him. “But we still have to go. We need to uncover this ship’s secrets if we want to understand what the h*ll a blood eel really is. Besides, the ball is the perfect opportunity for us to meet up with Lu Youyi and the others.”
Ge Zhu sighed in concern. “Then let’s hope we draw a good lot.”
Hearing that, Jiang Luo’s excitement was abruptly dampened.
If it came down to luck… would he really be able to draw a Master’s card?
But hey, no one stays unlucky forever, right? Jiang Luo told himself he might already be turning his luck around—after all, hadn’t he drawn a rich person’s ticket in the first place?
With that thought, he steadied himself again.
While they rested, Lu Youyi and the others returned to their own room.
The standard rooms were cramped, the beds tight, and each room held two people. Every room came with only three complimentary bottles of water, and nothing more.
Lu Youyi shared a room with Ye Xun. Wenren Lian and Zhuo Zhongqiu were paired up, and Kuang Zheng bunked with Cyril.
After settling their belongings, they stood by the door, watching others search for their rooms.
“Over here, over here, you went the wrong way!”
“Whose shoe got stepped off? Come get it!”
The shouts and commotion mingled in the hallway. The six of them gathered in one room and also saw the invitation to the ball.
“Should we go?” Zhuo Zhongqiu asked.
Wenren Lian finished reading the invitation and nodded slowly.
“I think we should,” Zhuo Zhongqiu said, sitting at the edge of the bed. “I walked around the back of the ship just now. When I tried to go toward the bow, a crew member stopped me. They said civilians aren’t allowed in the front section—that’s for the wealthy.”
“What age is this, and we still have class segregation this blatant?” Lu Youyi muttered. “And people are still scrambling to get on this ship even knowing they’ll be treated like this?”
“That’s exactly why it’s strange,” Wenren Lian said with a smile. “The poor likely came aboard for money. But what kind of profit can a trip to the deep sea on a cruise ship bring—one that’s enough to outweigh the risk of death?”
Kuang Zheng suddenly spoke up. “They might not know they’re going to die.”
“Exactly,” Wenren Lian snapped his fingers. “Tonight’s ball divides people into two roles: ‘Masters’ and ‘Slaves.’ There’s a lot of implication in those words. Perhaps to the rich, these poor people boarding are nothing more than slaves. The poor don’t even know where this ship is headed, or what they’re here to do.”
“We still know nothing about the rich people’s area. From what Zhongqiu said, the rich and poor don’t share any activity zones. We can’t go to the rich side to find Jiang Luo, and we can’t expect them to take the risk of coming to us. The only chance for us to meet is at the ball.”
Cyril nodded vaguely. “Can we also draw a Master card?”
Ye Xun replied flatly, “Highly unlikely.”
This ball was clearly designed for the rich to enjoy themselves.
***
The Angonise set sail.
The shoreline receded in the distance. They passed freighters one by one. The harbor waters were murky and yellow, but gradually turned into a deep, solemn blue.
Seagulls circled above the cruise ship as the wind howled. Jiang Luo’s clothes flapped loudly in the gusts as he looked out toward the deck from afar.
A large crowd had already gathered on the deck, clustered near the railing, gazing out at the sea. A few crew members moved among them, checking life rings and ropes.
Out at sea, time gradually blurred. The wealthy passengers’ rooms had clocks, newspapers, magazines, and board games or cards to pass the time. Jiang Luo and Ge Zhu played some games for entertainment, then headed for the buffet. When seven o’clock came, they changed clothes and arrived at the ballroom.
Night had fallen. Thick clouds blanketed the stars.
The ballroom was brightly lit and dazzling. The crowd mingled with drinks and laughter, a scene of lively revelry and abundance.
Jiang Luo and Ge Zhu put on their masks, half of their faces concealed. At the door, the attendant spotted their masks and respectfully placed a drawing box on the table, picking up another box and presenting it to them. “Gentlemen, please.”
Jiang Luo gave Ge Zhu a look, signaling him to go first. Ge Zhu swallowed nervously, murmuring a prayer, Blessed be the Heavenly Lord, and reached in with his eyes closed to draw a card.
Jiang Luo: “What is it?”
Ge Zhu opened one eye, trembling slightly as he flipped the card over—then exhaled in relief. “A crown card.”
It meant he had drawn the position of the “master”—the one with power.
Jiang Luo silently stared at the card in Ge Zhu’s hand for a moment, suppressing a dangerous urge to snatch it. He turned to the attendant. “Has anyone drawn a slave card from this box?”
The attendant smiled politely. “Not yet.”
Jiang Luo was temporarily reassured. He reached into the box, his fingers brushing around until he settled on a card—but just as he was about to take it out, another hand reached in as well. Gloved in white, it tangled with his fingers, brushing against the stacked cards the size of playing cards.
Jiang Luo looked up. Behind him stood a man wearing a pure white mask, his pale chin and high nose bridge faintly visible. With a pleased smile, the man’s eyes—so deep a blue they appeared almost black—locked onto Jiang Luo’s through the mask.
“First Mate,” the attendant bent forward, “two people cannot draw at the same time.”
“Shhh.” The man raised his other hand to his lips. “You saw nothing.”
The attendant fell silent, tacitly allowing the man’s behavior.
“Guest, I believe you’ve chosen the wrong card,” the First Mate said, eyes glinting with mischief. There was a certain malice to his charming smile. “You might want to choose this one.”
Inside the draw box, unseen by others, Jiang Luo felt a card brush a ticklish circle in his palm.
Author’s Note:
Jiang Luo: …Pfft.
No real meaning here. Just thought it was funny that someone who doesn’t even know how to play the game is trying to flirt.
