Chapter 46 Eagle Pool Radiance

Chapter 46: Eagle Pool's Flowing Light

Shen Zongnian had already spotted a Cayenne in front of the Kun Gate. His gaze swept past the woman beside Tan Youming before he averted his eyes and followed the attendant into the elevator without looking back.

The towering skyscraper loomed like a behemoth in the night fog. The elevator stopped on the 78th floor, and the attendant opened the door for Shen Zongnian: "Mr. Luo hasn’t arrived yet. Please wait a moment."

The performance within the club was reaching its climax, waves of revelry surging. Tan Youming’s eyes were vacant, his mind wandering. Li Baihao was throwing gold notes onto the stage when he noticed Tan Youming suddenly stand up and stride off hurriedly out of the booth.

“Hey—what’s going on?”

“Restroom.” Tan Youming walked briskly, brushing off the hands of men and women reaching for his chest, and went to find the members' concierge.

In those few short steps, his thoughts were chaotic, his chest tight and breath short.

He usually disliked throwing his weight around, but at this moment, he could no longer cling to reason or etiquette: “I don’t care about your rules. Today, I want to know which floor he’s on, who he’s with, what kind of people he’s requested, and what he’s been doing.”

The attendant broke into a cold sweat. Eagle Pool was renowned for its high level of confidentiality; those who came here to indulge were all wealthy or influential, and protecting guests’ privacy was the foundation of their reputation.

Tan Youming glared fiercely: “I’m not trying to make things difficult for you. You can first call your boss on the internal line and ask Feng Yue whether he can afford to offend me.”

The attendant hurriedly contacted the supervisor. Eventually, the manager arrived, his head spinning as he tried to reason: “Mr. Tan, even if we had ten lives, we wouldn’t dare neglect you. But the other party is Mr. Shen—how could we possibly dare—”

Caught between a devil and a deep blue sea, they couldn’t afford to offend either side. “You’ve always been the most reasonable, please try to understand this time.”

Tan Youming’s mind was fixated on Shen Zongnian’s complicated gaze. It took every ounce of his restraint not to lose his temper. He threatened: “Manager Huang, don’t give me that bureaucratic talk. I’m not buying it. If you remember how reasonable I usually am, today you should cut me some slack. If you won’t tell me yourself, I’ll search room by room. See if I dare.”

The manager was horrified. Tan Youming was fully capable of such an act, and every room here housed someone not to be trifled with. He quickly said: “Young Master Tan, how about this—I’ll send someone to inquire with Mr. Shen first. If he’s not busy, I’ll come back to update you.”

Tan Youming was taken aback and cooled down. If this escalated and Shen Zongnian found out, wouldn’t it seem like he cared too much?

Tan Youming couldn’t bear the embarrassment. After a moment of silence, he said expressionlessly: “Why should I need his permission for what I do? There’s no need for that. If even that is too difficult for you, just notify me when he leaves. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

This still amounted to disclosing a guest’s movements. The manager hastily said he would call the boss.

Feng Yue, drunk and disoriented on the other end of the line, sobered up immediately upon hearing the names of the two formidable figures. He scolded: “Are you out of your mind? You don’t even know who to listen to between Tan Youming and Shen Zongnian? If you can’t handle this manager role, don’t bother.”

Li Baihao saw Tan Youming leave in a hurry and return looking displeased. He walked over and asked: “What’s wrong?”

The woman nearby grew nervous. Among her colleagues, she had the easiest job—earning the most for the least work, only pouring drinks without even having to make conversation. Tan Youming hardly spoke.

“It’s nothing. Go enjoy yourself.”

Li Baihao didn’t press further and hurried back to watch the performance.

Tan Youming’s mind buzzed, replaying Shen Zongnian’s tall figure and complicated gaze. He couldn’t quite describe the feeling in his heart.

The woman asked: “Mr. Tan, would you like a drink?”

Tan Youming knew Li Baihao had sent her. Not wanting to make things difficult for her, he asked: “What’s available?”

A row of liquor bottles lined the marble table: “Hennessy, Martell, and Rémy Martin are already open. There’s also a bottle of Macallan in the wine cabinet that Mr. Li specifically said couldn’t be opened until you arrived. What would you like to try first, Mr. Tan?”

Tan Youming only wanted to drown the burning jealousy and resentment in his heart. Anything would do: “Just grab any bottle.”

She first mixed him a Sidecar. Tan Youming downed it, but the strong alcohol didn’t soothe his anger—instead, it set his stomach on fire.

Seeing his expression, the woman could tell he wasn’t satisfied and didn’t dare slack. “Mr. Tan, would you like some gold notes to play with?” Gold notes were thrown onto the stage—the more a table threw, the more likely the performers would come down to toast.

“No need,” Tan Youming said, pressing his temples. “If anyone asks, just say I’m drunk.”

Realizing he wanted to be left alone, the woman relaxed and resumed her role as decoration.

Tan Youming drank glass after glass. The performance grew even more risqué. Li Baihao’s enthusiasm remained undiminished as he threw money lavishly. Huang Dong, flushed, slammed the table and whistled. Xian Zhicheng had switched to a new girl. And what was Shen Zongnian doing?

Was he also lost in this drunken, glittering bubble of revelry, or somewhere else in this maze? Who was he with? What was he doing? Would he act the same way in Northern Europe, or would he indulge even more wildly?

He never used to come to such places and never allowed Tan Youming to stay overnight. A wave of disgust washed over Tan Youming. He was consumed by inexplicable anger and hatred, forgetting that such loyalty was unnecessary between friends.

The glass wobbled precariously. The woman remained vigilant: “Mr. Tan, are you unwell?”

“I’m fine. Don’t mind me.”

Even after finishing the bottle of Macallan specially opened for him, there was still no call from the attendant.

As the finale ended, Li Baihao asked Tan Youming: “Is someone picking you up?”

Tan Youming slammed his glass onto the table: “I’m staying here tonight.” He wanted to see just when Shen Zongnian would leave.

Li Baihao was surprised. Anywhere else would be fine, but this place—would *he* allow it?

But Li Baihao was too drunk himself to probe further: “Then I’ll have someone arrange—”

“No need,” Tan Youming stood up, maintaining what little clarity he had left. “I’ll get my own room. You go ahead.”

As a black card member, Tan Youming had a dedicated attendant. Li Baihao wasn’t worried, though unsteady on his feet: “Alright, take care. Call me if you need anything.”

The attendant arrived quickly and led Tan Youming into an elevator behind an unmarked door. A sense of weightlessness washed over him. Eyes closed, he asked: “Has he left yet?”

The elevator mirror reflected his gloomy expression. The attendant replied cautiously: “Mr. Tan, I haven’t received any news yet.”

Tan Youming clenched his fists. Entering the presidential suite, he tossed his phone aside and headed to the wine cabinet, grabbing a bottle at random without checking the type or alcohol content.

The second hand ticked through the deep night, circling again and again like a rope tightening around his heart. With each passing minute, the grip grew tighter.

Strong liquor against the clock, Tan Youming sat in a daze until dawn. Still, no call ever came to signal Shen Zongnian’s departure.