On How To Defeat Dr. Qing Leng Chapter 5
byChapter 5 The Unwelcome Person
Seven o’clock in the evening, the ballroom on the top floor of the Joy Hotel.
The multicolored light refracted by the crystal chandeliers scattered across the floor. Soothing classical music mingled in the air with various perfumes, and passing servers carried trays laden with expensive wines.
Wen Yelan stood in an inconspicuous corner, wearing a slightly restrictive light gray suit and holding a glass of champagne he had barely touched. He felt completely ill at ease.
The suit was borrowed from a colleague at the last minute; the size was a bit loose, making his already slender and thin figure appear even more delicate.
Wen Yelan’s face was expressionless as he distantly watched the animated crowds in the center of the venue—institute leaders, corporate executives, foundation heads… everyone wore masks of flattery, self-satisfaction, or even disdain.
He had arrived early as requested by Director Chen and had forced himself to greet a few important donors, exchanging brief pleasantries. They usually expressed surprise at his youth and appearance, then politely praised him as “young and promising,” before the conversation quickly shifted back to the leaders and more socially adept colleagues.
He felt like a cold stone misplaced on a lavish stage, completely out of sync with the surrounding bustle.
A familiar, slight cramping sensation came from his stomach. Wen Yelan quickly patted his pocket—he hadn’t brought his medicine. He quietly set down his champagne glass, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on the long buffet table along one side of the ballroom.
The table was lavishly decorated and offered a wide variety of food. At the very end of the table, in a relatively quiet area, were over a dozen exquisitely crafted desserts. Cheesecake, mousse, tiramisu, various flavors of egg tarts and puddings… Wen Yelan swallowed.
He hesitated for a moment, then, seizing the opportunity when no one was looking, quickly headed toward the end of the buffet.
Taking a clean bone china plate, Wen Yelan’s eyes quickly scanned the desserts: one blueberry cream tart, a chocolate hazelnut stick, matcha cake, corn tart, caramel pudding… and macarons! He took one of everything. Then, carrying a plate piled high like a small mountain, he quickly retreated to the corner he had scouted earlier, where a tall potted plant partially concealed a small sofa.
After confirming no one was paying attention, Wen Yelan slightly relaxed. His eyes shone as he surveyed the plate, deciding to eat the matcha cake first.
The sweet, slightly bitter matcha aroma and the delicate, smooth texture instantly melted on his tongue, greatly relieving his tense nerves and stomach discomfort. He squinted slightly, licking the cream from the corner of his mouth. Next, he tried the blueberry cream tart; the sweet-and-sour fruit flavor and crispy crust made him reach for another piece, temporarily pushing aside the boredom of the banquet and the pressure of work.
He ate with focused intensity, even a childlike reverence, completely unaware that a sharp, interested gaze had locked onto him from not far away.
Pei Yan was dealing with yet another vice president who had approached him, his patience nearly exhausted. These events were utterly boring to him. If not for Lin Mo’s pleading and Li Yu mentioning the Institute of Geological Sciences and that minuscule possibility, he would never have wasted his time here.
Pei Yan had circled the room without seeing the person he wanted to meet. After confirming with a waiter that the name “Wen Ming” was not on tonight’s guest list, he felt there was no need to stay.
He was about to find an excuse to slip away when his gaze casually swept the corner of the ballroom and suddenly froze.
By the curtains, in the shadows cast by the potted plants, a familiar yet somewhat unfamiliar profile arrested his attention.
The person was wearing an ill-fitting suit, but his posture was slender and upright. He was slightly bowed, intently looking at the… plate in his hand? Pei Yan instinctively felt the figure was familiar but couldn’t immediately recall where he had seen him. After all, the name “Wen Ming” was definitely not on the list, and he had already assumed that the scientist, cold as ice, would never show up at this kind of event.
He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity sparking within him. In this arena of fame and fortune, someone was hiding to eat? And eating with such absorption?
He subconsciously took a few steps in that direction, adjusting his angle, and finally saw the person’s face.
In that instant, Pei Yan felt as if he had been struck head-on by an avalanche on Mount Everest again; his breath hitched for a moment.
It really was him!
The scientist who had been cold, resolute, and distant in the snowstorm on Mount Everest was now hiding in a corner, intently and contentedly eating a piece of dessert. The warm light softened his overly sharp features. His cheeks were slightly puffed out from the food, and there seemed to be a tiny smudge of cream near his mouth.
This sudden and absurdly contrasting scene made Pei Yan’s heart feel lightly bumped by something. A mix of surprise, amusement, and intense interest instantly surged through him.
Pei Yan didn’t approach immediately. Instead, he leaned against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, enjoying this rare sight with great interest. He watched the man finish the desserts on his plate, seemingly still wanting more. His eyes darted toward the buffet table, he hesitated and struggled for a few seconds, but finally put down the plate with restraint, lightly licked the corner of his lip, and resumed his usual cold, self-possessed demeanor. Only the fleeting look of regret in his eyes did not escape Pei Yan.
Pei Yan’s lips curved upward uncontrollably. He suddenly felt that attending this boring banquet for Lin Mo was the best decision he had made recently.
He adjusted his tie with one hand and slowly, deliberately, walked over on his long legs.
Wen Yelan had just suppressed the lingering attachment to the desserts in his heart and was preparing to pick up the champagne glass again to continue playing the role of a stone when a shadow suddenly fell over him, accompanied by a voice he absolutely did not want to hear in this place, tinged with amusement.
“How’s the matcha mousse? I noticed you seemed to prefer the blueberry tart?”
Wen Yelan’s body instantly stiffened; his blood seemed to congeal. He abruptly looked up, meeting a pair of deep, smiling eyes.
Pei Yan!
How could he be here?!
Wen Yelan’s mind went blank for a moment. After the shock came a rapid wave of embarrassment and a hint of panic. He instinctively pressed his lips together.
“Mr. Pei.” Wen Yelan’s voice sounded colder than usual, carrying clear detachment: “What a coincidence.”
“Not a coincidence,” Pei Yan smiled like a cunning fox, his gaze meaningfully sweeping over the empty plate Wen Yelan had just put down. “I specifically came over to see what delicacy could make you eat with such focus…” He paused deliberately before slowly uttering four words: “Dr. Wen Ming.”
He emphasized the two words “Wen Ming” with exceptional clarity, laced with undisguised mockery.
Wen Yelan’s heart sank. Sure enough, he had recognized him and accurately seized upon the pseudonym.
“Just personal preference, no need for Mr. Pei to concern himself.” Wen Yelan averted his gaze, unwilling to meet his eyes, wanting only to leave this place immediately.
“Concern is necessary,” Pei Yan stepped closer, cleverly blocking his path. The movement was casual but carried an undeniable forcefulness. “After all, on Mount Everest, thanks to ‘Dr. Wen Ming’ risking his life to save me, I am able to stand here whole and unharmed. I’ve always wanted to properly thank you, but unfortunately… I couldn’t even get your contact information or your real name.”
His voice was not loud, but it was enough for the occasional passerby to cast curious glances. Wen Yelan felt a wave of nausea; the desserts in his stomach seemed to churn.
“It was nothing, Mr. Pei shouldn’t dwell on it. I have matters to attend to, please excuse me.” Wen Yelan tried to walk around him.
“What matters? Continuing to hide here and eat dessert?” Pei Yan chuckled softly, lowering his voice further, giving it a damned magnetic quality. “Or perhaps, you have someone else waiting for you to save.”
Wen Yelan’s steps halted. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to turn and face Pei Yan. He knew this man was doing it on purpose; he wouldn’t let him leave easily.
“A name is just a designation, why is Mr. Pei so fixated on it?” Wen Yelan’s voice was cold as ice. “The situation was urgent at the time. I believe there was nothing inappropriate about using a pseudonym to avoid unnecessary trouble. If I offended Mr. Pei because of this, I apologize.”
“Unnecessary trouble?” Pei Yan repeated, his eyes darkening slightly. “Are you referring to me?”
Wen Yelan did not answer, but his silence was already an answer.
The smile on Pei Yan’s face faded slightly. He stared intently at Wen Yelan, trying to discern something in those cold eyes that seemed to block all emotion. This person, who looked fragile enough to break, was also stubbornly hard as cold iron.
“Alright,” Pei Yan suddenly sighed, his tone seemingly softening, yet carrying deeper scrutiny. “Then, to avoid more ‘unnecessary trouble,’ may I have the honor of knowing the real name of the person who saved me?”
He extended his hand, ready to shake, his eyes holding an undeniable insistence. “Let’s formally introduce ourselves. Pei Yan. I will never forget this life-saving kindness.”
Wen Yelan looked at the strong, clearly defined hand, then at Pei Yan’s eyes, which seemed capable of seeing through people. He knew that if he didn’t reveal his real name today, it would be difficult to escape. People nearby were already noticing their standoff.
He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, his gaze was one of silent calm.
He quickly, almost just fingertip to fingertip, shook Pei Yan’s hand, a touch-and-go contact.
“Wen Yelan.” He spoke the three words, his voice low and clear. “The ‘Ye’ from night, the ‘Lan’ from wave.”
“Wen. Ye. Lan.” Pei Yan slowly pronounced the name, as if savoring the taste of the three characters on his tongue. Colder than he imagined, and also more… captivating.
“Night’s wave, a good name.” He said sincerely, the smile on his face becoming genuine again. “It suits you better than ‘Wen Ming.’”
Wen Yelan ignored his evaluation, merely saying coldly, “May I leave now, Mr. Pei?”
“Of course.” Pei Yan stepped aside. He had no intention of truly angering the man.
Wen Yelan said no more, turning almost hastily and quickly leaving the suffocating corner. He could feel Pei Yan’s gaze, like a shadow, fixed on his back until he disappeared into the crowd.
Pei Yan stood in place, watching the slender figure that had practically fled. He rubbed the fingers that had just touched the other man’s cold fingertips, a wide smile spreading across his face.
Wen Yelan.
He finally knew his name.