At 7 PM, a time when American police stations are typically at their busiest, filled with petty thieves, heavily made-up prostitutes, tattooed white men, and punk-styled Black men giving statements or awaiting detention, this place was different. This was the Virgin Islands.

The beaches of the Caribbean were littered with the wealthy, and the scattered Virgin Islands were home to the utmost elite.

Thus, in the Virgin Islands’ detention center tonight, there was only one young person of Chinese descent.

He appeared somewhat slender, especially compared to the obese middle-aged American guard, making any clothes on him look slightly oversized, which lent him an elongated appearance.

He wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses, which almost covered half of his face but didn’t make him look nerdy. Instead, he exuded a comforting, understated presence with an air of Eastern mystique.

He would take the food tray and water from the guard’s hands and quietly say thank you. His manners appeared well-cultured, which Lily found quite appealing.

Lily, a new policewoman at the Virgin Islands detention center, had just transferred from the Chicago Police Department.

She had blond hair and green eyes. In fact, she wasn’t beautiful, but these features made her look sexy and confident.

“Old Mike, why did he shoot to injure Kiefer Sutherland? Was it really because of rape?” Lily flipped through the file and asked.

The middle-aged guard across the table, with a belly big enough to rival his waist, smirked, “It was actually a gang rape. They found two types of semen in his underwear.” He spoke while biting into a hamburger.

Lily’s green eyes widened, “Besides Kiefer, who else?”

Old Mike raised an eyebrow, “Heard it was old Donald.” He seemed to bite into something he didn’t want to and cursed, “Trash,” then threw his hamburger into the garbage can under the desk.

“You mean Duke Sutherland?” Lily looked at Old Mike with disbelief.

Old Mike shrugged and said, “Word is they did it together, father and son. You might not believe it. You girls always think that by flaunting around on the Virgin Islands, you can hook a rich young master with a villa on the Caribbean coast with your curves. Miss, don’t buy into that. If the drug-addicted Black men you met in Chicago disgusted you, then these white nobles here can make you…sick…it really does!”

Lily felt a bit embarrassed and replied, “I don’t think like that…” Then she flipped through the files again, only to exclaim in surprise, “Strange, he seems to have acquaintances here in the Virgin Islands. Hmm, Daniel Cruz, he wants to bail him out, why did he refuse?”

Old Mike took a sip of his coffee and said, “You know who this Cruz is…”

“Could it be from that Cruz family…” Lily realized.

Old Mike raised an eyebrow and nodded, “He even got the whole team from Davis Law Firm to handle the criminal case, and Seven refused that too.”

“Why would he?!” Lily raised her voice suddenly, forgetting to lower it while discussing a prisoner’s privacy.

Old Mike glanced at her reprovingly but still satisfied her curiosity, “Imagine if your so-called boyfriend brought you to the Caribbean, drugged you, and sent you to someone else’s bed, then left you owing millions in legal fees. Would you be willing?”

Lily gasped, “No!”

Old Mike nodded, then dropped another bombshell, “And those two men were your father and brother whom you’ve never met.”

This time Lily couldn’t even scream. She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling a chill fill her mouth and shivers down her spine, “Why would this Daniel do that?”

“Why? Maybe it’s because Old Donald just sold the development rights for Coral Island to Cruz. That’s a billion-dollar virgin island. This kid’s probably celebrating with something other than champagne. Maybe it’s a nobleman’s thing. Either way, it’s not about friendship!” Old Mike finished his coffee in one gulp, then crumpled the paper cup and tossed it into the trash can.

Lily withdrew her stunned gaze and stared at the file in front of her, muttering, “Seven… no wonder he doesn’t have a surname… God… he’s only seventeen.”

Footsteps sounded outside the door. Old Mike quickly pulled his legs off the desk and signaled for Lily to sit back down.

The door opened, and two men walked in. The first was a bald-headed chief, followed by a man with black hair who looked of Irish descent, his face a bit gaunt but sharp, exuding a tough vibe.

“Andy Watters, the lead attorney from Davy Law Firm, is here to bail out the inmate, Seven,”

Lily noted, although she was new, she understood enough to know that the bald-headed chief had a nose like a bloodhound, capable of sniffing out everyone’s worth.

His eagerness clearly indicated that the visitor was of considerable status.

Old Mike hesitated, then said, “But Seven has already made it clear that he does not want to be bailed out!”

Before the bald-headed chief could speak, Andy Watters stated calmly, “Give me one minute, I will persuade him.”

Seeing the suggestive look from the chief, Old Mike reluctantly took out the keys and unlocked the door. As soon as the door opened, Andy quickly strode to Seven’s cell and announced confidently, “Seven, I’m here to get you out.”

Seven was just sitting on the hard bed, bending his knees; he neither responded nor turned around.

Andy took a deep breath and said, “This time it’s completely free, I won’t send you a bill afterward, you can be assured!”

Seven slightly turned his head, glanced at him, but still did not respond.

Andy shook his head, pulled out a gold pen from his pocket, and took a piece of letter paper from his briefcase. He wrote a few lines against the wall and then handed it through the bars, saying, “A written promise, this should do it, right?”

Seven stepped off the bed, and Andy realized he wasn’t short at all but rather tall and lean. He reached through the bars, took the paper, carefully read it over, folded it meticulously, and slipped it into his pocket.

This carefulness was typical of the Chinese Andy knew. But what caught his attention the most was Seven’s hands—they were remarkably beautiful.

Andy stepped out of the police station, the salty moist breeze from the Caribbean greeting him. He stopped in front of a stretched Cadillac and said to the person inside, “He’s agreed to the bail, but… he says he doesn’t want to see Rong Qing. Who is Rong Qing?”

The person inside paused for a moment before stepping out of the car and saying lightly, “That’s me, my Chinese name. You all… just drive back in this car.”

Andy sighed, “Daniel, others might think you’re doing this for the real estate contract, but I know that’s not the case… You’ve dragged me into this case, can you tell me why you’re doing this?”

The Daniel in front of him looked every bit the educated, well-mannered aristocrat. With his soft black hair, robust features, and a mix of Chinese and Portuguese descent, he was tall and had a less imposing presence than Andy but carried a gradual, insidious type of pressure that demanded respect.

“How is he?” Rong Qing asked, looking down at his hands which were long and well-maintained, like those of any upper-class gentleman.

Andy glanced at those hands and replied, “Very normal… extremely normal. He can eat and drink, just not sleep.”

Rong Qing chuckled lightly, “Is that so? Well, at least he has learned to suffer from insomnia. He used to sleep so well.”

Andy raised his eyebrows in resignation, “OK, are you suggesting you want to continue this revenge? Daniel, you really don’t need to go through all this trouble. With Old Donald’s connections in the Virgin Islands, he would be locked up for at least ten years.”

Rong Qing pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his hands and then coldly said, “Just do what I asked you to do, don’t worry about the rest. Even if you act as his court-appointed attorney, I will still pay you your lawyer fees. You can be sure of that.”

Andy was momentarily taken aback, then said, “Daniel, if it weren’t for our time together in the Cheetah Training Squad, I really would…” He suddenly felt it meaningless to continue and retracted his words.

With self-deprecating humor, he added, “I’m worried about you… you talk about revenge, but deep down, you still want to shake that kid’s hand!” Andy spoke, suddenly remembering those hands—long, without superfluous knuckles, neatly trimmed nails, pink and round, yet unmistakably masculine, which stirred something within him.

Rong Qing didn’t respond but turned and walked away. Seven got into the car with Andy, followed by two armed bodyguards. Andy noticed that the young man’s face showed no sign of being affected.

As the car started moving, Seven said, “I don’t want to go to that villa. Please take me to a hotel.”

Andy laughed coldly, “Who do you think you are, kid? Be sensible. In the animal kingdom, some are cheetahs, some are cattle and sheep. You know, for a cheetah, it’s not the slowest one that triggers its hunting desire but the one that desperately runs.”

Seven adjusted his glasses and said calmly, “Thanks for your stray dog theory, but that person has already asked you to accommodate me as much as possible. Sadly, you don’t live in the animal world, at least there no one pays a leopard to be a doorman.”

Andy paused, his face twitched, and he said, “You have a sharp tongue, kid. Alright, then you can only stay in my room.”

Seven turned his head and said nothing. Andy looked at his profile, his short jet-black hair, the elegant curve of his ear, and the same beautiful chin. Suddenly, Andy felt a playful urge and asked, “How should your name be read in Chinese? Hmm… How did your mother call you? Seven… Little Seven… Qi Qi?”

Seven suddenly turned his face, his voice low as he said, “Please call me Seven!”

“OK, OK!” Andy shrugged. The five-star hotels on the Virgin Islands were plentiful, but Andy was staying in a six-star luxury hotel. From there, he had a view of the entire Caribbean Sea, watching the rise and fall of the tides. The hotel also had a private beach.

The soft sand, the pure white beach. Andy turned to Seven, who was standing on the terrace, and asked, “Want to go down for a walk?”

He had already showered, and the faint scent of shampoo lingered in his black, damp hair, which the wind blew through.

“I want to go online. Is it okay?” Seven half-turned his head, glancing at the laptop on the glass table through the floor-to-ceiling window.

Andy glanced at him and said, “Whatever.”

Seven didn’t say anything more and turned back. Andy watched for a while and saw that he was browsing some Chinese websites. Though Andy was fluent in Chinese, he wasn’t particularly interested in playing online surfing games with someone, so he walked over and took a seat in a chair near the fireplace to look through some materials.

The two didn’t speak, only the sound of Seven’s quick typing on the keyboard and Andy turning the pages of his papers filled the air.

Though Andy was fluent in Chinese, he wasn’t particularly interested in spending time browsing websites or playing online games, so he walked over and took a seat in a chair near the fireplace to look through some materials.

Later that night, the dinner brought in by Daniel’s bodyguard was flawless—a top-tier experience, from wine to steak. Andy was pleased to enjoy such a meal after a busy day. Feeling in a good mood, he thought it was necessary to offer some words of guidance to Seven.

“Seven, sometimes being too stubborn is just making life difficult for yourself. Like now, it seems Daniel has hurt you, and yes, I admit, it’s a type of hurt not many can withstand. But think about it, could this also be an opportunity? I can tell you, Daniel regrets it; knowing him, he definitely does. All you need to do is ask, and I believe Daniel would be eager to make amends…” Andy said as he cut into his steak, “Think about it, in two years, who besides you will even remember this? Don’t be stubborn. Do you really want to end up with nothing but a diploma from a juvenile detention center? You have to face reality!”

Seven had already finished the bread on his plate. He picked up his plate, placed the several-hundred-dollar-an-ounce steak in front of Andy, and said, “I see you like steak more, I’ll take your bread.” Without waiting for Andy’s approval, he took the bread and began eating it while he went to the computer.

Andy, seeing his earnest advice dismissed and catching a fleeting glimpse of disdain through Seven’s large glasses, felt a sharp irritation. This subtle contempt, barely noticeable to most, unsettled Andy, who had long been accustomed to the respect afforded to a senior lawyer.

“Don’t dirty my computer, kid!” Andy called out, turning his head.

He turned his head and looked at the bloody steak in front of him, suddenly losing his appetite. Feeling frustrated, he angrily tossed his fork aside.

He walked over to Seven and said, “You need to rest! We have to discuss the case tomorrow, and the court session is the day after!”

Seven finished the bread in his mouth and then replied, “I can’t sleep.”

Andy was silent for a moment. He was a harsh man, used to seeing even crueler acts than Daniel’s and defending them in court without qualm. But today, unexpectedly, he felt a twinge of compassion. He exhaled and said, “Then don’t stay up too late, I’ll sleep on the couch outside.”

It wasn’t until his figure had completely disappeared that Seven rubbed his eyes, worked a bit more on the computer, and then, exhausted, collapsed onto the plush, oversized king-size bed. He turned off the bedside lamp, stared into the pitch-black ceiling, and, despite thinking he would be sleepless like the nights before, he was too tired and eventually drifted deeply into sleep.

In his dream, there were firm and warm hands holding his, each line traced in his palm while a voice said, “Shall I give you a surname, Rong Qi?”

He guarded against everyone, but how could he guard against someone who had given him a surname?

Yet, the scene was exactly as it had been that day, the same sentences, word for word, but his emotions could never return to what they were then.

It was as if, within this scene, someone was still saying coldly, “You despicable thing. He gave everything for you, yet you left him alone in the hospital morgue for a whole year, allowed him to be cut into pieces. I want you to repay everything he gave…”

“My name is Rong Qing… Nice to meet you.”
“My name is Rong Qing… Nice to meet you.”
“My name is Rong Qing… Nice to meet you.”

Rong Qing, a name that once brought him comfort, now seemed like the voice of a demon.