Chapter 11: The Ball

---

“Three, two, one…”

With a “pop,” the cork shot out of the champagne bottle, sending fine white foam splashing everywhere as the golden liquid poured into the pyramid of crystal glasses. The sweet aroma of champagne mingled with colorful streamers, drifting upward to the white and green peace dove emblem hanging from the ceiling, while the guests raised their glasses with enthusiastic cheers.

Tonight was Greenpeace’s charity ball for World Animal Day, and Tang Mi and Ma Jin had come as invited guests.

Since it was the centennial celebration, the ball was exceptionally grand. Not only were all Greenpeace members and environmental advocates invited, but government officials, high-society figures, and even movie stars were also on the guest list, making the event as glamorous as any high-profile gala.

Tang Mi held her cold champagne glass and looked around. This was the city’s most luxurious private club, with an exquisitely beautiful setting, endless supplies of top-tier champagne and caviar. But what did any of this have to do with the animals? she wondered. Any one of the jewels worn by the female guests could fund a significant conservation effort for polar bears or Sumatran sharks. Instead of these empty displays, wouldn’t it be better to just convert it all into direct funding? But then, no charity event is ever separate from power and money. Even the elites need the noble crown of charity to polish their public image.

This is reality—an unwritten rule of survival in human society.

As Tang Mi was lost in thought, lively music started to play, and the gentleman beside her extended his hand with graceful formality. “May I have the honor of this first dance?”

Tang Mi looked up and smiled, gazing into the refined, well-groomed face of her partner while quickly thinking of a polite excuse to decline. He was the son of tonight’s host, Minister Marshall—a distinguished graduate from a top law school and a star attorney at a renowned law firm, fitting every detail of the young, accomplished man that Ma Jin had described.

As for why he had ended up as her escort for the evening, Tang Mi could guess a little from the knowing smiles exchanged between her adoptive father and Minister Marshall.

“I’m sorry, but my shoes are a bit uncomfortable tonight,” Tang Mi said, lowering her gaze with an embarrassed look. In truth, she wasn’t entirely opposed to the young Marshall; he was a charming man with a touch of warmth and tact, though his professional sharpness as a lawyer sometimes showed through. However, this perfectly calibrated kindness felt like a specimen encased in glass—flawless and safe, yet lacking vitality.

Besides, her shoes really did feel uncomfortable. The delicate straps and fragile heels were worlds apart from the hiking boots she usually wore, and she couldn’t imagine herself dancing gracefully in them.

The conversation was interrupted when a small commotion arose in the crowd. Tang Mi glanced up to see people parting to make way near the entrance, accompanied by murmurs of admiration and envious glances from the ladies. A tall figure appeared at the doorway.

The lighting, dimmed specifically for dancing, prevented Tang Mi from immediately seeing the man’s face. She could only make out his long, straight legs moving elegantly and leisurely beneath tailored suit pants, leading up to a lean waist and broad chest encased in a sleek silver-gray suit.

He walked slowly, almost as if he were strolling, yet there was an undeniable aura of power lazily emanating from the well-toned muscles beneath his clothes.

For a fleeting moment, words like “prairie,” “leopard,” and “hunt” flashed through Tang Mi’s mind, along with a haunting image of the Barrett M82 sniper rifle that still caused her to wake from nightmares. Like the spinning top in Inception, “the gun” was a totem that triggered her deepest fears. Memories of that stormy night on the prairie a few months back flooded her mind like a tidal wave, her breathing quickening, her heart pounding erratically.

By now, the man had stepped into the spotlight, revealing a pair of striking green eyes gazing at her with a warm, friendly smile, as if saying, “Hey, my dear honey.”

A statistician once remarked that the odds of experiencing a plane crash in one’s lifetime were one in ten thousand. To encounter two would be a miraculous rarity, and Tang Mi found herself facing such a miracle, because standing before her was none other than Arthur—the very person responsible for her last disaster.

Instincts acted faster than thought. Before Tang Mi could even process why he would be at the ball, her head had already dipped down, using young Marshal’s shoulder to shield herself from view, just as she’d once dodged Arthur’s bullets.

“What’s wrong?” Marshal asked, noticing her strange behavior and pale face.

“Oh, nothing. Didn’t you say something about dancing? Suddenly, I really feel like dancing!” Tang Mi replied. She couldn’t see the scene in front of her with her head down, but she could feel Arthur’s gaze, like a sniper’s scope, locked onto her. Escaping his line of sight was the only thought in her mind.

Ignoring Marshal’s surprise, she grabbed his arm and quickly led him to the dance floor, where dim lighting and swaying figures provided the best cover.

To the lively music, Tang Mi spun, tilted, and advanced, her lithe legs making her skirt flare gracefully as she stepped out elegant moves. Like a cunning fox evading capture, she maintained her elegance and composure. Marshal, astonished, watched as this girl—who had initially seemed aloof and reserved—transformed in motion, radiating the fiery allure of a Carmen.

But only Tang Mi knew that her dazzling steps were actually the rhythm of escape—escaping the hunting gaze of a dangerous pursuer. The hazy, romantic lighting and music seemed, ironically, to tell a story of passionate love.

“You dance so well. Earlier, why…” Marshal, thoroughly captivated by her, found his usually sharp words faltering. He stared at her strikingly beautiful face, dumbstruck, while the urgency and cleverness in her expression added a mysterious glow to her intense gaze.

“Who was that man who just came in?” Tang Mi hadn’t noticed Marshal’s infatuated expression; her eyes were focused solely on the distant figure that chilled her heart.

Thankfully, Arthur seemed to have disappeared, like a drop of water swallowed up in the sea of people. Maybe she had just imagined seeing him, she optimistically reassured herself.

“You mean that tall man in the gray suit? His name is Kano Solomon, supposedly a businessman from the north in the shipping industry. He was invited because he donated a large sum to the environmental organization,” young Marshal explained carefully, deliberately avoiding certain adjectives—he didn’t want the girl he fancied to be intrigued by a mysterious outsider.

“Oh, I see,” Tang Mi replied, nodding slightly, while inwardly scoffing. A shipping businessman? Of course, smuggling arms also technically counts as shipping. What surprised her, though, was Arthur’s ability to fabricate an identity and even earn Greenpeace’s trust. Clearly, he was no ordinary arms dealer.

As the music ended and the crowd began to disperse, Tang Mi realized her “protective layer” was about to dissolve. She needed to get away to somewhere safe.

Flashing an apologetic smile at Marshal, she said, “Excuse me, I need to go to the powder room,” and hurriedly left the hall.

On the terrace, she leaned against the railing, catching her breath and marveling that she had managed to run so quickly in 10-centimeter heels. It seemed that urgent situations could indeed draw out hidden potential. Right now, the wisest course was to leave the venue immediately, but how would she explain her sudden exit to Ma Jin? Perhaps she could just say she felt unwell—he would understand.

Just as she lifted her phone to call Ma Jin, she felt someone silently standing behind her, watching her intently.