"Hey, isn't staying here a bit too flashy?" Jack Young stared at the grand hotel in front of him, looking helpless.
"Not flashy at all! Big companies, big bosses, big shots—they've got to stay in big hotels. Honestly, I rushed over today and didn't even bring a fancy car. Otherwise, I'd have picked you up in a luxury ride to match your status." Bobby Brooks laid on the flattery thick, then asked cautiously, "Your Highness, why do you look so weird?"
"It's nothing." Jack Young gave a sly smile and patted Bobby's head. "I just think, if you were taller and a bigger guy, you'd look a lot like one of my friends."
Hmm, maybe ideas like a grand inn, a grand brothel, or a grand world could work in this universe too. Other people transmigrate and copy Earth's property rights to another world; I transmigrate and copy otherworldly property rights back to Earth—that's what I call sustainable development!
Anyway, Jack Young's motorcade arrived at the Shangri-La Hotel in Shanghai's Pudong New Area. To be honest, this place isn't even that extravagant—Eternal Night Holdings Group has hotels that are way more over-the-top. The hotel from the White Night Incident was one of them. But knowing is one thing; when a whole fleet of cars pulled up, black-suited bodyguards swung open the doors, brushed off eager bellboys, and opened the door for Boss Jack, he couldn't help but feel a strong sense of awkwardness.
Feeling the "Wait, is this a mob movie?" vibes from the crowd around him, Jack Young just felt drained.
Honestly, I'm more of the "a bamboo cane and straw sandals beat a horse, a rain cloak and mist suit me just fine" type. Getting hit with this kind of scene out of nowhere—I can't say I'm comfortable.
"Your Highness, this way please! I've prepared the most luxurious suite for you!" Bobby Brooks followed all the proper lackey etiquette, leading Jack Young like a village chief welcoming a visiting leader. Okay, maybe this well-trained behavior is thanks to the Queen's... training. Should I thank my other self, or shed a tear for Bobby?
A bunch of black-suited bodyguards spread out professionally, some sticking close, some keeping watch from afar. As they walked through the spacious, luxurious lobby, people stared in surprise. "A celebrity?" "A big boss?" "Super rich?" The guesses flew nonstop.
"Your Highness, your room is the best suite with a view—you'll get to see the most beautiful nightscape in Shanghai."
Hey, Bobby, could you maybe stop calling me "Your Highness" like it's the most natural thing in the world? People nearby are already pulling out their phones and posting on Weibo!
As we awkwardly made our way forward, Jack Young’s expression suddenly shifted, his eyes freezing for a moment. He was just scanning the crowd aimlessly, when he caught sight of a silhouette. It was a figure at the far end of the corridor, maybe thirty or forty meters away, separated by a stream of people of all sorts. And just as he looked, that person turned the corner and disappeared.
In a big fancy hotel, just a random glance in the crowd—and Jack Young froze, completely caught off guard.
Something strange washed over him, and he couldn't help but activate his Memory Recall Technique. His powerful memory broke through the limits of time, replaying the scene from moments ago in slow motion, first-person style.
Beyond the endless parade of passersby, that silhouette flickered in and out, never fully clear. Sometimes blocked here, sometimes blocked there, but Jack’s brain instantly pieced it all together, reconstructing that figure perfectly in his mind.
It was a woman—average height, slim and well-proportioned. She moved normally, acted ordinary, not a hint of martial arts about her, nothing special at all. If you had to pick something, it’d be this: her posture was straight, her bearing elegant. So straight it screamed confidence, so elegant it was almost out of place. Just one glimpse of that distant silhouette, and Jack couldn’t look away. His mind was hooked, unable to relax.
"Who is she? Why does she feel... so familiar...?"
The Memory Recall Technique played on, showing the girl slowly turning, heading left at the corner. Bit by bit, her profile appeared—first an ear, then her brow, the corner of her eye—Even though it was just a memory replay, Jack found himself getting nervous.
How long had it been since he’d felt this kind of nervousness?
But in the very next moment, her upper body and face were blocked by a decorative potted plant.