BL Ch123

Inside the lower deck’s safe room, Ji Lin sat up from the floor, clutching the back of his head, still dazed.

Thankfully, the earlier impact had thrown him onto a soft mattress. Otherwise, his skull would’ve cracked open by now.

“What happened… Did we hit an iceberg?” His normal thought process hadn’t yet leaped to the outrageous notion of a speedboat ramming the yacht, but he instantly knew this was no ordinary collision. The ship was stopped at sea—how could it suddenly crash?

Just then, his phone buzzed frantically, another call from Xu Sheng.

He answered quickly. “Hey, Xu-ge, I just—”

“Get ready for a reprimand, you little punk!”

Ji Lin blinked, then realized the deafening scolding came from his boss. “Chief Peng, I…”

“Shut it, not now.” Peng Deyu vented with one curse, then got to the point, warning, “Hong Yuanhang’s speedboat is tailing you. Tell Yu Duqiu to watch out—he might be armed.”

Ji Lin pieced together the crash’s cause in a flash, decisively drawing his gun, cocking it with a click, and replying gravely, “Too late. He’s probably already on board. I’m heading up to check. How long till the coast guard arrives?”

Hearing the gun cock and Ji Lin’s tone, Peng Deyu knew the worst-case scenario had unfolded.

Hong Yuanhang’s escape was unexpected; crashing a speedboat into the yacht was beyond comprehension.

By all accounts, he was just a lowlife handling transfers, far from innocent but never this reckless before.

Was he cornered, lashing out? Or driven by another motive?

Whatever the reason, there was no time to hesitate.

“The coast guard heard you stopped and stayed back. Fastest, thirty minutes. Hong Yuanhang’s alone, but don’t underestimate him.” Peng Deyu paused, adding swiftly, “Bring everyone back safe, got it? Or you’re fired!”

Ji Lin chuckled. “Guess I’d rather not come back safe—might make martyr status.”

Peng Deyu roared, “Smartass! Stop picking up that Yu kid’s bad habits! You will come back safe!”

“Roger.” Ji Lin donned a bulletproof vest, a glint of ruthlessness in his eyes. “I’ll bring back who needs bringing. And the ones who deserve to die… won’t get away.”

The crash’s aftershocks subsided, the massive ship steadying after minutes of swaying, though those inside still felt lingering tremors. Ji Lin gripped the stair railing to avoid falling, silently slipping into the kitchen first.

The crew and chefs, meant to be prepping lunch, were gone. The empty kitchen was a mess of scattered pots, pans, and prepped ingredients. A grouper had leapt from a shattered tank, flopping feebly, doomed to waste.

Ji Lin mourned the ruined delicacy for half a second, grabbed a small knife from the floor, tucked it into his boot, and moved upward.

The kitchen stairs led right to the stern’s waterside platform—now splintered. Umbrellas and fishing gear floated on the sea, drifting farther with each wave.

The speedboat, lodged in the yacht’s midsection, was surprisingly intact, save for scraped hull paint and a shattered windshield. It must’ve slowed at the last second, or the yacht would’ve exploded and sunk.

Ji Lin crouched, using debris for cover, advancing cautiously, growing more uneasy.

The yacht felt like a ghost ship—utterly deserted. Had everyone fallen overboard?

Peeking out again, he finally spotted a figure.

“Done? Time to go.”

Fei Zheng stood diagonally ahead, five or six meters away, half-hidden by a liquor cabinet. Ji Lin had heard his voice countless times—he’d recognize it from a single word.

The hostage was unmistakable too—that silver hair was one-of-a-kind on this ship.

Unable to see Fei Zheng’s weapon, Ji Lin feared a second’s delay could cost Yu Duqiu’s life. He raised his gun, aiming for a headshot, when a third voice spoke, “Kill him now, you won’t get the money.”

Bai Zhao!

Impressive, staying cool under pressure—not surprising for the guy who sent Pei Xianyong to prison at eight. Ji Lin silently praised him, forgetting how often he’d doubted Bai Zhao over that very act.

In truth, Bai Zhao wasn’t that calm.

His fingers trembled; only clenching them hid it. The sight before him burned his heart—the sharp fishing line dug into Yu Duqiu’s slender neck, pressing a vivid red mark on fragile skin. One more millimeter, and it’d draw blood.

He cared nothing for plans, only wanting to kill, but Yu Duqiu’s quick wink signaled him to hold off.

“Don’t worry, President Yu’s still useful. Not killing him yet.” Fei Zheng yanked Yu Duqiu’s hair, dragging him up, binding his hands with tough fishing line.

Ji Lin noticed Yu Duqiu’s right arm hung unnaturally, likely broken.

Then, one of Du Shuyan’s bodyguards jogged from the bow, reporting, “Fei-ge, bridge is secured. Everyone’s tied up.”

Ji Lin saw the gun in his hand, his heart sinking.

Hong Yuanhang had indeed delivered weapons.

“Good. Time for our star to shine.” Fei Zheng tossed Yu Duqiu to Bai Zhao. “Take him and follow. Careful—don’t hurt President Yu. He just saved your life.”

Yu Duqiu stood shakily, debris falling off him, grinning through pain. “Not quite… Wanted him as a shield, but grabbed him and fell… Cough! Should’ve known he’s a wolf, should’ve finished him in bed… Cough!”

That fit Yu Duqiu’s reckless playboy image, and Fei Zheng bought it without question. “Right, President Yu’s not that loyal. Now you see why everyone around you betrays you?”

Yu Duqiu coughed heavily, unable to speak, barely standing, let alone walking.

Bai Zhao, stone-faced, scooped him up by the waist, snapping at Fei Zheng, “Less talk. Where to? He’s heavy as hell.”

From Ji Lin’s angle, he caught Yu Duqiu’s face—glaring at Bai Zhao with mock indignation.

…Flirting at a time like this!

Ji Lin was speechless, then noticed Yu Duqiu’s gaze shift, landing on his hiding spot, with a subtle head shake.

What? Stay put? With likely only him uncaught on the ship, how could he sit still?

Before Ji Lin could decide, Fei Zheng led the group out of sight, heading toward the bow.

Screw it—follow and assess.

Ji Lin steeled himself, gun raised, trailing quietly.

Captain Sun, knocked out by the crash, came to, every bone aching.

Blinding sunlight made his forehead sweat. Opening his eyes, he found himself on an open deck, hands tied behind, mouth taped, surrounded by his crew.

A pair of skinny legs paced before him. The guy—scrawny, early twenties, broom-like brows, small eyes darting nervously—paced fast, clearly anxious.

Captain Sun was sure this kid wasn’t on board before. How’d he get here? How’d a twig like him overpower them?

The first mate, awake the whole time, was less confused.

Ten minutes ago, he’d watched armed thugs herd his crew to the main deck, tying them to the outer railing. Oddly, the two new crew members were missing.

Besides the pacing kid, two others moved freely. The first mate recognized one as Yu Duqiu’s guest, now slumped on a shaded sofa, either sunstruck or seasick, with a subordinate fanning and wiping his sweat.

Footsteps clacked from the stairs, and three more appeared on the main deck.

Seeing the leader, Hong Yuanhang rushed over, frantic. “Where’s my grandpa? You didn’t hurt him, right? I brought the stuff as you said—you can’t break your word!”

Fei Zheng gestured behind. “Relax, here he comes.”

Bai Zhao turned—Hong Liangzhang shuffled up, leaning on the stair railing, forehead scraped, blood seeping through a handkerchief.

He’d never looked so frail, as if crushed by a ton of iron, head bowed, eyes averted as he passed.

“Hong-bo,” Yu Duqiu called suddenly.

Hong Liangzhang froze, his pale, wrinkled lips trembling, replying faintly, “Yes, young master.”

Yu Duqiu said softly, “There’s a medical kit in the storage. Have someone grab it, stop the bleeding.”

Hong Liangzhang stood stunned, eyes reddening fast, as if Yu Duqiu’s concern carved out his heart. He turned away, voice choking, “Young master… I’ve failed you…”

Clang, clang! Fei Zheng rapped his gun on the hull, cutting them off. “No time for farewells. Bai Zhao, tie him there.”

Bai Zhao complied, carrying Yu Duqiu to the bow, securing him with the crew.

Yu Duqiu, hands bound behind, felt something hard and ring-shaped pressed into his palm.

His eyes narrowed, lips barely moving. “Careful, don’t get caught.”

Bai Zhao whispered back, “Worry about yourself.”

Fei Zheng scanned the deck, counting heads, then frowned. “Where’re those two bodyguards?”

Hong Yuanhang, fetching the medical kit for his grandpa, answered, “Dunno, didn’t see ‘em. Maybe they jumped ship.”

Fei Zheng seemed skeptical. “Abandoned their boss? Hong-bo, you buy that?”

Hong Liangzhang, face ashen, rasped, “After Myanmar, they kept griping to me—job’s too dangerous, one slip and they’re dead. Xiao Zhou’s got a daughter, A-Bao’s got a girl he likes. Not wanting to die here’s normal. They’re just paid help, not obligated to die.”

Yu Duqiu and Bai Zhao’s hearts skipped.

Something was off.

Hong Liangzhang knew Zhou Yi and Lou Baoguo’s character—they’d never desert. Since returning, Yu Duqiu had ordered them to keep Myanmar and case details secret, and they’d complied, never venting to others.

If Hong Liangzhang had fully turned, why cover for them?

“No one’s in the water. They’re likely still aboard,” Fei Zheng said, unconvinced, ordering two subordinates, “Search below, check for them and the missing crew. Shuyan, you holding up?”

Du Shuyan looked rough, face sallow, sweating profusely. “Bit nauseous… Maybe the crash, seasickness…”

Fei Zheng said, “Hang on fifteen minutes. I’ll wrap this up.”

Yu Duqiu, pondering whether “wrap up” meant killing him or something else, saw Fei Zheng approach, gun in hand.

“President Yu, kidnapped again. Thrilled?”

The gun barrel lifted his chin, forcing Yu Duqiu to meet his eyes. He scoffed, “Took you two tries to pull it off, Secretary Fei. Your skills are lacking.”

“Technically, three,” Fei Zheng shrugged. “In the U.S., I planned to nab you too, but you slipped away.”

Du Shuyan, dazed, perked up, confused. “The U.S.? What kidnapping?”

His tone wasn’t feigned, catching Yu Duqiu off guard.

So, the king didn’t know all the queen’s moves.

“That chef you set up was too timid to get it done,” Fei Zheng said, likely meaning Dong Yongliang. “I could’ve handled them, avoided all this mess, but that guy leaked.”

Yu Duqiu followed his glance to Hong Yuanhang, understanding dawning—Du Shuyan, cautious or wary of him due to the engagement, avoided extreme measures, using his sister to get Dong Yongliang to drug him, staying in the shadows.

But Hong Yuanhang told his grandpa Fei Zheng’s plan. Learning Jiang Sheng hid a tracker in a gun and killers waited in the parking lot, Hong Liangzhang sent men to the scene. Ostensibly a warning, it was protection, sparking the three-way standoff that foiled Fei Zheng, letting them escape.

“Why do you keep going behind my back?” Du Shuyan grumbled. “I told you to kill Mu Hao, you didn’t. I said don’t touch the Yu family, you went for them.”

Yu Duqiu’s brow furrowed.

Sparing Mu Hao wasn’t Du Shuyan or Hong Liangzhang, but Fei Zheng? That clashed with their theories.

Why? Mu Hao sniffed out their secrets—Fei Zheng had no reason to let him live.

“I’ve got my plans, don’t meddle,” Fei Zheng said, tone ironclad, brooking no argument, blurring who was boss. Du Shuyan shrank, muttering, “Fine… Hurry up, cops could show any time.”

The cops were here.

Ji Lin, thinking this, slipped behind a wall-mounted surfboard, concealing himself, barely catching the deck’s voices.

He’d dodged Du Shuyan’s bodyguards with effort. The yacht, though large, was a confined space, but knowing its layout, he’d taken a hidden passage.

Zhou Yi and the others were still missing, possibly lost to the sea. If so, only he and Bai Zhao remained to face the enemy, likely unable to hold out until the coast guard arrived. They needed to act fast.

Bai Zhao seemed to grasp the urgency. Fei Zheng had everyone tied but hadn’t killed, suggesting other plans. Once those were complete, no one would survive.

So, he held out a hand to Fei Zheng. “Got another gun? Give me one, just in case.”

Fei Zheng smiled. “Just in case, I’d rather not.”

Bai Zhao frowned. “You don’t trust me?”

“Honestly, I teamed up with you not out of trust, but gratitude,” Fei Zheng said, almost warmly, patting his shoulder. “You did what I couldn’t—got Pei Xianyong locked up. Once he’s sentenced to death, I’ll toss you a fat red envelope.”

Each word made sense, but strung together, it was gibberish.

Bai Zhao voiced Yu Duqiu’s confusion. “Pei Xianyong? You’ve got a grudge with him?”

Fei Zheng didn’t elaborate, perhaps wary of the villain-talks-too-much trope, his gaze returning to Yu Duqiu, gun shifting from chin to temple. “The envelope’s funds? President Yu can cover it. You’re loaded, right?”

Yu Duqiu sneered. “All this scheming to kidnap me, not kill me, just for cash? I overestimated your vision. You’re just another money-grubber.”

“Only the rich think money’s vulgar, not knowing that for the poor, it’s a miracle that rewrites fate.” Fei Zheng snapped his fingers, and Hong Yuanhang scurried over with a laptop—Yu Duqiu’s, from his room. “President Yu, heard you’ve got crypto? Ten billion, not too much, right? Just the cost of a few yachts.”

Yu Duqiu, calm until now, went stone-faced, silent.

Fei Zheng opened the laptop, seeing a password prompt. “What’s the password?”

Yu Duqiu pursed his lips, hesitating. “…Untie me, I’ll do it.”

“No way. I’ve heard about your skills—near pro-fighter level. I’m not risking that.” Fei Zheng teased with a half-smile, “Got something naughty in there? Don’t worry, even if it’s you two’s sex tape, I won’t bat an eye.”

Yu Duqiu ignored the jab, insisting, “Crypto transfers are complex. You’ll mess it up. If it goes to the wrong account, I’m not liable.”

Fei Zheng’s demeanor flipped in an instant, gun slamming Yu Duqiu’s temple, his dark eyes radiating chilling menace. “President Yu, I’m not here to negotiate or waste time. I count to three. No password, I kill one.”

Captain Sun, just recovering from dizziness, saw the gun aimed at him, panic surging, legs shaking. “N-No…”

Fei Zheng locked eyes with Yu Duqiu. “Three.”

“Help! Young Master Yu!”

Bai Zhao studied Yu Duqiu’s face, seeing genuine reluctance, not an act.

Fei Zheng extorting a fortune before fleeing was expected. Yu Duqiu had said he could recover the funds. Why hesitate now? Oh, right—they’d prepped a decoy laptop to shield commercial secrets.

But the crash threw things off. The laptop Hong Yuanhang grabbed was Yu Duqiu’s personal one, and he likely had reasons to keep Fei Zheng from accessing it.

“Two.”

“No, don’t kill me! Please!”

They couldn’t let Fei Zheng kill freely. Any more delay, and Captain Sun was done.

Bai Zhao took a deep breath, recalling the password, ready to speak—

“One…”

“I—”

“Bai Zhao!” Yu Duqiu shouted suddenly.

Bai Zhao tensed, instinctively responding, “What?”

Yu Duqiu shot him a strange look—mingled unwillingness, embarrassment, and inexplicable fury—repeating softly, “Bai Zhao.”

Fei Zheng paused the countdown, puzzled. “Why call him? He knows the password?”

“…No.” Yu Duqiu closed his eyes, resigned, gritting his teeth, spitting out, “The password is… baizhao, plus his birthday, 214.”