BL Ch122

The control panel’s dashboard showed everything normal. Captain Sun gave the first mate a few instructions, then sat aside to play on his phone.

With over twenty years in the trade, he’d weathered every storm. In calm, windless weather like this, cruising near the coast, the odds of trouble were negligible. Just avoid colliding with other vessels.

The waters around Changhe District boasted stunning views, drawing tourists in spring, summer, and fall. September’s fishing ban had just lifted, and the sea teemed with rented speedboats, fishing boats, and angling skiffs. A small dot on the radar represented a ship, its position shifting slightly with each refresh. A few were close—perhaps fellow vacationers or fishermen making a living.

The yacht’s air conditioning hummed, but the windshield couldn’t block the sun’s heat. Feeling parched, the first mate grabbed an unopened bottle of mineral water, ignoring the iced drinks Hong Liangzhang had brought.

Before departure, all crew received Yu Duqiu’s orders: consume only food and drinks from two specific crew members, nothing else.

Those two weren’t chosen by the crew, their faces unfamiliar, origins unknown. But that wasn’t their concern. The yacht’s owner had spoken, and following orders was always safe.

“Huh? Looks like a boat’s tailing us,” the first mate said, sipping water, eyeing the radar. “See, same heading.”

Captain Sun glanced up from a livestream of a pretty girl, unimpressed. “That far counts as ‘tailing’? They can’t even see our mast. Probably just on the same route. Don’t make a fuss.”

“Oh… Should we tell President Yu? Just in case?” the first mate asked cautiously.

“What’s the ‘case’? President Yu’s busy with his guests. Don’t bother him. You’re new, don’t know his temper. Last year at sea, someone pissed him off, got tied behind a jet ski, spun for seven or eight laps. Dragged up, his gut was nearly bursting with seawater. Want that?”

The first mate’s tongue tied. “N-No.”

“Exactly. Don’t disturb unless you must. President Yu’s no ordinary man—we can’t afford to cross him.” Captain Sun exaggerated for effect. The punished man last year was a corporate spy, trying to steal files while Yu Duqiu soaked in a hot tub. The laptop’s alarm pinged Yu Duqiu’s phone, catching the thief red-handed, and he was handed to the police ashore.

Yu Duqiu rarely lost his temper, but when he did, no one on this yacht escaped unscathed. Captain Sun avoided trouble, diving back into liking the sweet-voiced streamer’s posts.

A chess game ended in under twenty minutes. Du Shuyan hadn’t exaggerated—his skill was mediocre, thoroughly trounced.

The gold queen stood before the silver king, one move from checkmate. Yu Duqiu spared him the final blow, saying, “Brother Shuyan, did you know there’s a term for this setup?”

Du Shuyan, mind elsewhere, replied absently, “Is there? What’s it called?”

“‘Kiss of Death.’” Yu Duqiu lightly tapped the gold queen’s crown. “My queen’s one square from your king. Doesn’t it look like she betrayed her own king to kiss yours?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Du Shuyan said, downing another iced juice—his second. A trace of anxiety flickered in his brow, his eyes darting to the man beside him.

Fei Zheng, barely watching the game, had been glued to his phone, seemingly handling work. Now, looking up, he suggested, “Out at sea, just playing chess might get dull. How about fishing? Catch some sea breeze.”

It was his first proactive suggestion since boarding.

Yu Duqiu agreed readily. “Sure. Bai Zhao, tell the captain to stop the ship, lower the stern deck.”

Du Shuyan waved a hand. “I’m a bit dizzy, gonna rest in my room. I’ll pass.”

Fei Zheng’s gaze swept his face, surprised. “President Du, you okay?”

“Maybe stood too long on the pontoon, got sunburned. It’s late September—why’s it still so hot?” Du Shuyan staggered as he rose, not faking it.

Yu Duqiu stood with him. “Brother Shuyan, you’re overdressed. Why so formal for a meetup? Head to your room. I’ll have someone grab you lighter clothes.”

“No, no, I’ll just lie down…” Du Shuyan paused, then added, “Fei Zheng, fish with Duqiu for me.”

Yu Duqiu countered instantly, “No worries, we’ll skip fishing.”

Du Shuyan hesitated, then straightened slowly. “That’s no good, ruining your fun because of me. I’ll come, just watch.”

Such insistence screamed a setup.

Likely Fei Zheng would make the move. That way, Du Shuyan, absent, could dodge blame again, claiming ignorance of his subordinate’s plot to the police.

That would foil their plan.

Yu Duqiu wouldn’t let him slip away. “Up to you, just don’t push yourself.”

The yacht’s engines cut, drifting on calm waves. The stern’s sun deck lowered into a waterside platform, perfect for lounging in the sun or fishing under umbrellas. For swimming or diving, a side ladder led to the sea.

The two “crew” brought fishing gear, then left, clearing the space for the four. Yu Duqiu dismissed Lou Baoguo and Zhou Yi, keeping only Bai Zhao.

From Du Shuyan’s view, it was one against three—their confidence would embolden action.

“Secretary Fei, last time you visited, I couldn’t host properly, and you saw me at my worst. My bad,” Yu Duqiu said, picking a surf rod, casting with flair.

Fei Zheng, less picky, grabbed a sea rod, settling under an umbrella. “You’re too kind, President Yu. Heard you were poisoned that day? Find out who did it?”

Yu Duqiu sneered. “Yeah, but the guy bolted this morning. Cops are on him. Didn’t expect another traitor close to me.”

Du Shuyan’s face paled slightly. “Who?”

“Someone you know,” Yu Duqiu said. “My butler’s grandson.”

“You overestimate me, Duqiu. My memory’s not that sharp—I forgot Hong-bo even had a grandson,” Du Shuyan played dumb.

Yu Duqiu shrugged. “No biggie. You might not recall, but your secretary sure does. Their bank accounts are pretty chatty, right, Secretary Fei?”

At that, the deck’s air went still.

Wind, waves, and a faint engine hum from some distant ship wove a tense calm.

Du Shuyan’s face grew paler, lips clamped, as if stifling any sound—a single word could be his downfall.

Clearly, he wanted to cut ties, pinning it all on Fei Zheng.

But would this ruthless queen really sacrifice himself to shield his king?

Shockingly, yes.

Fei Zheng leisurely baited his hook, the sharp fishing line wrapping his finger, pressing faint marks.

He didn’t claim Du Shuyan’s orders or deny dealings with Hong Yuanhang, saying only, eerily calm, “Yeah, we know each other. Done some business.”

Bai Zhao’s hand, hidden behind his back, signaled—the two cops, Lou Baoguo, and Zhou Yi hadn’t gone far, lurking in the cabin’s bar area, ready to charge if things went south. No matter how fierce Du Shuyan’s men were, barehanded, they couldn’t outmatch armed police.

They held the upper hand.

Yu Duqiu studied Fei Zheng’s unruffled profile, his grip tightening on the rod.

Events unfolded as planned, even faster than expected. Mere hours aboard, and the showdown loomed. Yet… why did it feel so off?

The arrow was nocked; he had to press on. “Secretary Fei’s in business? What kind?”

Fei Zheng turned slowly, his icy black eyes chilling. “Since President Yu’s dug this deep, why play coy?”

The polite, meek facade cracked, a hairline fracture like fishing line, venom seeping into the air.

A sea breeze grazed skin, sending an inexplicable chill through the warm sun.

Yu Duqiu saw the taut fishing line, nearly cutting into Fei Zheng’s flesh, ready to draw blood.

Suddenly, he realized the source of the unease—

This bloodthirsty, brutal queen killed with swift precision. If he wanted Yu Duqiu dead, he could’ve suggested fishing at the stern earlier and struck. Why wait for Yu Duqiu to bait his intent? Why spar verbally for hours?

Unless… he lacked confidence before but had it now.

What gave Fei Zheng the nerve to act?

In seconds, Yu Duqiu mentally retraced every moment since boarding, finding nothing.

Du Shuyan and Fei Zheng were under watch the whole time, never alone, never touching luggage, never armed. Even Hong Liangzhang’s kitchen visit yielded no deadly tools. At sea, external aid was impossible…

…Wait!

Yu Duqiu’s eyes widened.

Not impossible!

“Your brain’s not as genius as they say.” A cold, mocking hiss slithered into his ear, like a viper’s tongue. “Always deified, you think you’re omniscient, huh?”

Yu Duqiu leapt up, retreating, his roar shattering the calm. “Tell the captain to move! Now!”

Zhou Yi and the others heard, confused but quick, relaying the order to the bridge via walkie-talkie.

“Too late.” Fei Zheng raised a hand, pointing to the horizon—

Yu Duqiu followed, his face draining, pupils and heart constricting in sync!

In his needle-sharp pupils, a speedboat emerged at the horizon’s edge, slicing waves like a torpedo, spraying meters-high foam. The sea churned, and in moments, it closed within a kilometer, charging their yacht with no sign of slowing!

In the bridge, the first mate had just restarted the engines, but the massive vessel couldn’t move yet.

Operating this behemoth was complex, each step demanding caution. Checking components, he glanced at the radar, frowning. “What’s that? A boat? Why so close?”

Captain Sun, engrossed in the streamer’s flirty “big brother” coos, didn’t look up. “Normal. This yacht’s too fancy—small boats always gawk when we’re out.”

The first mate nodded. No storm, clear visibility, their huge yacht visible from afar—no one would ram them. Probably a passing skiff, curious about the rare super-yacht, stopped in place.

Reassured, he started to look away, but the radar refreshed, the dot now half the distance away!

“No… that speed’s wrong!” Dread crashed over him like a tsunami. The first mate spun, heart pounding, shouting, “That boat’s gonna—”

Captain Sun looked up. “Huh?”

Too late.

BOOM—!

A cataclysmic explosion roared without warning!

Like a thousand tons of dynamite or a tidal wave slamming the hull, Captain Sun instinctively traced the sound to the stern. His ears rang, hearing gone, his phone flying, screen shattering. The impact hurled him into the console, and before a cry of pain, his vision blacked out, unconscious.

The first mate hit a leather chair back, faring better, staggering up, vision swaying—not him, but the yacht.

The stern bar’s prized liquor bottles smashed, survivors of the initial shock rolling and shattering in aftershocks, none spared.

In the main salon, the chessboard toppled, gold and silver pieces scattering, buried in debris and dust, luster lost.

An eight-meter speedboat had pierced the yacht’s belly like a sword.

Luxury interiors turned to rubble in an instant—glass shattered, cabinets collapsed, briny seawater soaked costly carpets and sofas. Gusts of sea wind cleared the dust, revealing the wreckage—

A 40-inch flat-screen TV split in half, and between its broken halves, two figures lay entwined.

Moments later, the one beneath stirred, sensing a heavy weight, freezing. Terror surged.

His trembling hand shook the person atop, murmuring, “Duqiu…?”

Yu Duqiu’s closed eyelids twitched, opening slowly. Seeing him unharmed, he forced a weak smile, raising a hand as if to touch his face but stopping, pained. “I’m fine… won’t die… Don’t worry, babe… Hiss!”

Before he finished, someone grabbed his hair, yanking him up.

“President Yu, said goodbye to your lover?” A sharp fishing line pressed his throat, slicing into his artery. “Done? Time to go.”