Chapter 51: The Dog’s Personal Vase

“You make it sound easy—high schoolers taking on the mayor and tycoons? Are you writing a third-rate light novel or planning to drag us into forming a girl band for Budokan?” Dongfang Cheng groaned, rubbing his forehead as if black lines were cascading down, exasperated by Lin Feng’s sudden money-driven enthusiasm.

“I’ve got your back!” Lin Feng brushed off the jab, slinging an arm around his friend’s shoulders with a confident grin, giving him a shake.

Dongfang Cheng’s brow twitched, instinctively moving to shrug off the arm. But as he pushed, it was like hitting an invisible wall—his strength fizzled out. Lin Feng’s arm carried the solid weight of a teenage guy, while his own shoulder felt disconcertingly frail, making his heart lurch.

A jolt of shock raced up his spine. He’d never lost a tussle like this before.

Lin Feng’s grin froze for a split second. The softness under his arm wasn’t the familiar, bony hardness of a teenage boy—it was delicate, almost like Zero’s petite frame. His mind flashed to her, and he let out a mental whistle, his smirk widening. Nice feel.

Hoshino Kirara, silent until now, snapped out of her tangled emotions. Taking a deep breath, her blue eyes burned with resolve as she looked at the two mid-shoulder-clasp.

“I… I want to go back to Hoshino Group’s headquarters. It’s probably under some bank’s control now, but I’ll find a way in. My father’s office safe has original contracts and… things that could help us. I have to get them myself.”

“Too dangerous,” Dongfang Cheng objected instantly. “Your identity’s too hot—you’d be walking into a trap!”

Kirara shook her head, straightening her slight frame as if reclaiming strength. Her tired, bloodshot eyes flickered with renewed fire. “Don’t worry. I may be a mess, but I’m not a pushover. I could navigate that building blindfolded—there are three secret passages I know.”

“And,” she added softly, “some responsibilities are mine alone.”

She met Dongfang Cheng’s gaze, her plain face offering a faint smile—grateful, stubborn, and tinged with shared understanding between two who’d lost everything.

Dongfang Cheng opened his mouth to argue but swallowed his words, nodding in acknowledgment of her resolve.

“Guess you can’t adventure with a pretty girl today,” Lin Feng said, releasing his arm with a fox-like grin. “You’re stuck with me!”

“What am I doing with you?” Dongfang Cheng shot him a sidelong glare, rubbing his numb shoulder. “Playing bodyguard for a capitalist dog headed for the gallows?”

“Nope,” Lin Feng wagged a finger, his smile dazzling in the morning light. “You’re my flower vase.”

“You—!?” Dongfang Cheng’s cheeks blazed red. His fists clenched, knuckles whitening, but recalling his earlier weak push, his anger deflated like a punctured balloon, hands loosening in frustration.

“What, not up for it?”

“…No, I’m in,” he muttered, fuming. The stifled rage made him want to transform into Zero and pummel Lin Feng’s smug face. If not for helping Kirara and thwarting Ouroboros, he’d have decked him already.

Dongfang Cheng stared into the mirror, fumbling for the seventh time with a silky, exorbitantly priced tie that probably cost more than his entire wardrobe. It hung limp around his neck like a dead fish, defying his efforts.

“Damn it, why’s this harder than fighting monsters…” he grumbled.

“Need help?” Lin Feng’s voice, laced with amusement, came from beside him. Already dressed in a tailored suit, his usually boyish features carried a rare maturity and elegance.

Dongfang Cheng glanced at him through the mirror, reluctant but stiffly turning, lifting his chin in silent consent.

Lin Feng stepped closer, his eyes grazing Dongfang Cheng’s vulnerable, pale neck and barely noticeable Adam’s apple. His heart fluttered, like a feather brushing it. Composing himself, he took the tie, deftly looping it with care, his fingertips occasionally brushing Dongfang Cheng’s warm skin.

Dongfang Cheng tensed, feeling Lin Feng’s warm breath graze his neck and ear, an odd discomfort stiffening his body.

“Uh, what’s my role again?” he blurted to break the awkward silence, his tone self-deprecating. “Flower vase? Do I stick close to you?”

“Officially, you’re my attendant,” Lin Feng said, adjusting the tie with a satisfied pat, his tone light. “Just stand quietly behind me as a backdrop. Don’t talk, don’t ask questions, and don’t stare like you’re about to murder someone—it’s scary and bad for business.”

“Tch,” Dongfang Cheng scoffed. “Thought I’d at least get to punch someone to vent.”

“There’s security for that,” Lin Feng winked meaningfully. “You don’t need to step over that line yet.”

Dongfang Cheng exhaled in relief—he wasn’t ready to fully abandon his sixteen years as a boy.

“By the way, how’s a guy who flunks Chinese running a business?”

“My parents globe-trot all year,” Lin Feng said. “Guess who handles the family business?”

“Someone your parents trust,” Dongfang Cheng quipped.

“You—!” Lin Feng’s mouth twitched, but he turned away with a mock “I’ll let it slide” look.

Dongfang Cheng eyed the neat bow tie, then Lin Feng, feeling a strange distance from the friend he’d known for nearly a decade.

In Lin Feng’s stretched black limo, Dongfang Cheng felt an unreal haze settle over him.

It was like discovering your buddy—who you’d goofed off with in class or stood in the hall with after getting caught—was secretly a billionaire with a chauffeured car. Straight out of a melodramatic novel.

The car was absurdly long, like dough pulled taut. Its interior was lavish: plush leather seats, thick cashmere carpet, a sleek bar with expensive bottles, and a glowing champagne cooler. The ceiling’s panoramic sunroof mimicked soft dawn light.

“You said your family had ‘a little money,’” Dongfang Cheng said, staring out the sunroof. “‘Little’ is an understatement.” He’d thought Lin Feng was just a Mercedes guy—turns out, he could probably sell Mercedes.

Lin Feng grinned at Dongfang Cheng’s stunned look. “What, overwhelmed, A-Cheng?”

The driver, a steady middle-aged man with graying temples, glanced at them via the rearview mirror, his eyes lingering on Dongfang Cheng. The boy’s faint sharpness was overshadowed by delicate features, pale skin, and a soft, clear voice, making him wonder if this was Lin Feng’s old friend or a new romantic interest. The young master rarely brought outsiders home or had the driver pick them up.

But seeing Lin Feng’s genuine smile, the driver said softly, “Haven’t seen the young master this happy in a while.”

Dongfang Cheng blinked, then burst into clear, bell-like laughter, drowning out the vintage jazz from two centuries ago playing softly.

“Your driver moonlights as a romance novelist, huh? That’s some classic dialogue.”

Lin Feng wiped his brow, nudging Dongfang Cheng’s hand off his thigh. “Laugh all you want, pat your own leg! Chen, speed up, we’re running late.”