Mo Siyu didn’t tell Leng Yunlin about Yu Zexiao’s business in Las Vegas; he didn’t know either.
Leng Yunlin gave him a meaningful glance, stood up, and ultimately just said, "Just don’t be like me, realizing that you need to cherish something after you’ve already lost the right to do so."
Looking at his retreating figure, Yu Zexiao silently thought to himself, he had indeed not been wrong; Jian Anning was definitely not his first time.
Or rather, he himself didn’t even know if that chaotic night in Las Vegas could be counted as his first time.
The reason he could separate emotions and SEX so clearly was precisely because of that one time—
It was before he left the United States, when he and Mo Siyu embarked on a grand tour across the country. Mo Siyu, that guy, naturally loved to play, loved beautiful women, and loved the bustling and frivolous atmosphere. On their last stop before leaving the United States, they arrived in Las Vegas.
Mo Siyu insisted on dragging him to the annual "Masquerade Ball" at the top-floor VIP banquet hall of the Caesar’s Palace Hotel!
Moreover, Mo Siyu said, "You don’t have to worry about being too good-looking. After all, everyone will be wearing masks. You don’t have to worry about the media digging up your attendance at the wild party in case you want to enter showbiz later. The people here are either rich or noble, and those paparazzi don’t have much money—they really can’t get in. We’re leaving the United States tomorrow, aren’t you going to come out and have fun with me for a little while? Opportunities will be rare after this! Let’s go!"
Maybe it was because of Mo Siyu’s words, maybe it was a twinge of parting sadness at leaving the United States soon, or perhaps it was because wearing a mask seemed to naturally create a layer of protection. The distance between people suddenly seemed extended. He felt secure and nodded in agreement.
The United States is a free country where myriad thoughts and cultures intersect and collide, bringing forth endless artistic movements and styles. However, it is also an open country, with avant-garde ideas and personal liberation. Yu Zexiao, while he enjoyed the unrestrained pursuit of music here, wasn’t very interested in the overly enthusiastic and spicy American women. Or maybe, only someone like Mo Siyu, who loved beauties and fine wines, a veritable Don Juan, could feel like a fish in water, right?
Indeed, that day, Mo Siyu initially still stood by his side. But later into the party, he was already high. He disappeared somewhere with a chestnut-haired, alluring woman. Yu Zexiao leaned against a wall corner, and besides drinking, he felt not a trace of joyous mood.
It was then that he caught the attention of a woman in a red dress.
She wore a fiery red dress, its hem fluttering like a red cloud. Even though a mask obscured her face, the delicately curved waist encased in the dress, a section of her pale arm, and the flirtatiousness subtly suggested in the corners of her eyes and brows, all filled him with aversion.
Unwilling to stay any longer, he finished the drink in his glass, and before she could come over to chat, he turned and left.
The corridors of the Caesar’s Palace Hotel were quiet and luxurious. All the noise seemed blocked behind those exquisitely carved doors. He walked down the silent corridor, and behind him, he could seemingly hear the "click-clack" of the woman’s high heels on the