When they stepped out of the VIP lounge, Mulan's expression was slightly off. Her hands stayed tightly folded in front of her.
Ethan could tell—this was a woman who cared deeply about appearances. The thought of walking around with stains on her clothes was simply unbearable to her.
He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders."Here. Just to cover it up for now."
"Thanks," she murmured, casting him a grateful look as they walked toward the restroom.
Just as they reached the door, a loud male voice boomed behind them."Damn, you're gonna kill me with how hot you are!"
Mulan's face went pale. Almost instinctively, she pulled Ethan into one of the stalls beside them, shutting the door behind her.
A second later, someone yanked hard on the stall door."Shit—occupied!"
Another voice followed. "This one's open! You guys wait outside!""Yes, boss."
The stall right next to them opened with a bang. Moments later came the unmistakable sounds of rough breathing—a man's low growl, followed by a woman's breathy moans. The thin divider between stalls trembled slightly with the rhythm.
The space Ethan and Mulan were squeezed into was already tight. Each shudder from the other side made Mulan's body press and brush against him.
She was stunning, and the sounds around them only made the air thicker. Ethan was young, healthy—and human. There was no way he could remain completely unaffected.
Mulan felt the change instantly. Her cheeks flushed crimson, and she shifted slightly away.That only made it worse—her movement brought more friction, not less.
Ethan shot her an apologetic look, reaching for the door handle. But Mulan caught his wrist, shaking her head with wide eyes.The noises next door grew more intense. Every motion made the walls—and their breath—quiver.
Ethan clenched his jaw, trying to focus on anything else. Mulan's face was burning; she could feel her own pulse racing through every nerve. By the time the sounds died down, her legs were trembling slightly.
"Mr. Cao, you were in such a rush," a woman's teasing voice finally broke the silence.
"You were begging for it," the man chuckled. "How could I resist?"
She giggled again. "But what about your fiancée? Won't she be mad if she finds out?"
"Mad? Please. What's she got to be mad about?" the man snorted. "It's the twenty-first century and she still acts like we can't touch before marriage. Pretending to be pure. When we do get married, I'm gonna find out just how 'untouched' she really is."
The man—apparently "Mr. Cao"—and his companion stumbled out."Let's go."
A chorus of footsteps followed, fading down the hallway.
When the coast was finally clear, Mulan pushed open the stall door and hurried to the sink. She splashed cold water on her face over and over, staring at her flushed reflection in the mirror. Her skin was still burning.
Ethan followed, doing the same—dousing his face until his pulse slowed back to normal.
Mulan turned to wash the wine stains from her dress. Luckily, the marks were small and near the hem. Once she was done, she kept Ethan's jacket on until it dried.
They walked back toward the VIP lounge. The silence between them was thick, awkward—neither seemed to know what to say.
Finally, Mulan spoke first."That man… is my fiancé."
Ethan had already guessed there was some connection. Otherwise, why would she panic like that? Still, he couldn't help thinking she could've just hidden alone—she didn't have to pull him in too. But maybe that was instinct. Maybe guilt made her act on impulse.
When they returned to the lounge, the party was still going full blast. The women were completely drunk. One of them—a woman in a red dress—was on the gambling table, dancing wildly with a male model. Chips were flying, and laughter filled the air.
The atmosphere was edging toward indecent, but the women kept it just short of crossing the line. Even so, the scene made Mulan's mind flash back to what had just happened in the restroom.
The party dragged on for another three hours before the socialites finally staggered out, leaning on the male models for balance.
"See you in a couple of days," the woman in red purred, wrapping her arm around Ethan's and planting a bold kiss on his cheek. She tossed him a playful wink before sauntering off.
As soon as she left, a cheer erupted from the room.
The male models were already eyeing the mountain of chips on the table like hungry wolves.
"Alright, alright," Ethan called out, waving his hand. "Turn the lights back on."
The room brightened instantly. The dealers and models glanced at him—tempted, but waiting for his word.
Ethan walked up to the table. The stacks of chips glimmered under the lights.No wonder Serena had called them "high rollers."
Just the five-thousand chips alone—he counted at least thirty of them. The rest piled up even higher. None of the guests bothered taking their winnings back; they'd left them all as tips.
Even the bottles they'd opened cost a fortune. The house's profit margin on nights like this was staggering.
Ethan cleared his throat, aware of all the expectant eyes on him."Alright, collect everything. The house takes fifty percent. Count it up and send me the numbers."
Then he turned and left. The moment the door closed behind him, the room exploded into cheers.
He'd left them a chance to pocket a little for themselves—everyone knew it. In a place like this, "unofficial bonuses" were a perk of the job. The casino didn't bother tracking every chip; as long as the numbers balanced, everyone stayed happy.
Inside the casino, the rule was simple:Money comes in, chips go out. Chips come back, money comes back. Nobody asks questions in between.
When Ethan stepped into Serena's office, she looked up from her desk—and immediately noticed the lipstick mark on his face.
"Rough night, huh?" she teased. "The guests said they had an amazing time. They'll be back in a few days. Big clients, personally invited by The Boss himself. And that woman—Ms. Mulan—she seems to like you. The last guy we sent over didn't even get a seat before she threw him out."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "She's like, what, twelve, thirteen years older than me?"
"So what?" Serena shot back with a smirk. "You saw her. The face, the body, the class, the money—half the young guys in this city would kill for a shot at her. Honestly, if she weren't already engaged, I'd tell you to go for it. You'd be set for life."
Ethan snorted. "Yeah, right. With her kind of status, you think she'd look twice at me?"
Before Serena could reply, there was a knock at the door.
"Mr. Chen, Ms. He, may I come in?"
It was one of the dealers from the VIP lounge. She carried two stacks of chips in her arms and set them down on the desk.
"These are the ones left behind by the guests tonight," she explained. "Total value: two hundred and seventy thousand."
Ethan's eyes widened.Just the tips alone—two hundred and seventy grand.
Serena laughed at his stunned expression. "You really are new to this, huh? And the other pile?"
The dealer pointed to the smaller stack."That one was left specifically for Mr. Chen—by Ms. Mulan. Fifteen thousand."
Ethan froze for a second, staring at the pile meant for him.
Mulan's fiancé might have been a powerful man—but it seemed the lady herself was the one worth remembering.