The Perfect Rich Second-Generation Villain

Meanwhile, at the Beijing Police Station, An Rong hung up the phone with Shen Zeming and leaned back at her desk with a small smile. “See you at Crimson Lotus Restaurant, Brother Shen,” she murmured.

As soon as the call ended, the smile vanished, her expression hardening as her gaze sharpened.

"Yo, what's with the murder face? You just scored a date during work hours with a young, handsome guy!" Wei Yan, one of her teammates, teased from across the table. He whistled and grinned, a half-eaten energy bar dangling from his mouth.

An Rong shot him a withering glare. "Do you ever take anything seriously?"

Wei Yan leaned back in his chair, rocking slightly as the wheels squeaked. "Seriously? That's not in my job description," he quipped, crumbs flying as he spoke. "Besides, you look like you're about to go full-on detective mode again."

"Something’s off," An Rong muttered, more to herself than to him. She tapped her fingers rhythmically on her desk, her eyes fixed on her smartphone as fragments of her recent conversation with Shen Zeming replayed in her mind.

Wei Yan let out an exaggerated sigh. "When is something ever right in our line of work?" He wiped his hands on his already stained shirt, giving her an expectant look. "Alright, spill it. What weird rabbit hole are you about to drag me into this time?"

An Rong approached his desk, her movements sharp and purposeful—a stark contrast to his laid-back demeanor. "I need you to look someone up. Li Yue."

"Li Yue?" Wei Yan drawled, raising an eyebrow. "Sounds about as thrilling as watching paint dry. You do realize there are thousands of people with the surname Li on this mainland, right?" He leaned back further and glanced up at the ceiling, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

"This could be connected to the Mercenary King," An Rong said, her voice low and intense. Her gaze locked on Wei Yan, now solemn and unwavering.

Wei Yan paused mid-chew, his usual nonchalance faltering for a moment. "That's not a name you toss around lightly."

'Exactly. It’s not something you casually mention,' An Rong thought, her grip tightening on the pen as she jotted the name onto a sheet of paper. 'But this came straight from the Shen family’s Young Master.'

"I'm well aware," she replied firmly. "Which is why I need your help."

Wei Yan shrugged, already spinning back toward his computer. "Your wish is my... well, not command. More like a gentle suggestion." A lazy grin spread across his face, his earlier tension dissolving.

"Just search," she snapped, her patience fraying. "I'll contact the boss about this."

…

Meanwhile, at the Crimson Lotus Restaurant, the ambiance was a seamless blend of opulence and tranquility. Luxurious decor surrounded the guests, while soft classical music played in the background. Despite every table being occupied, the atmosphere remained serene, the hum of low chatter blending with the melodies.

"Oh my god, look at him," whispered a woman in a red dress, nudging her friend discreetly. Her eyes sparkled as she nodded toward one corner of the room. "He's absolutely stunning."

Her friend, adorned with elegant pearls, stole a quick glance. "Those shoulders... and that smile," she murmured, her gaze lingering.

At a nearby table, a middle-aged couple sat in uncomfortable silence. The woman repeatedly glanced in the same direction, her fascination obvious. Her partner, however, scowled with growing irritation.

"Would you stop staring?" he hissed, gripping his wine glass so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"I'm not staring," she replied defensively, her tone unconvincing. "I'm... appreciating the view."

Yet something was unusual about the restaurant that evening. The low murmur of whispers spread like a ripple across the room. Every so often, guests would cast fleeting glances toward a single table in the corner, where a striking young man sat. His light blazer, tailored with a single-breasted design and notch lapels, fit perfectly over his broad shoulders, exuding effortless elegance.

The same outfit he had worn earlier when visiting the police department—Shen Zeming sat in the corner, his striking presence drawing attention. Smiling faintly at those who dared to glance his way, he exuded an air of effortless charm.

Near the window, a group of young professional women was far less subtle:

"Is he single?" one giggled, making no effort to lower her voice.

"He looks like he just walked out of a magazine," another chimed in, her eyes practically sparkling.

A waiter approached Shen Zeming’s table, leaning in close to whisper discreetly. "Pardon me, Young Master, but the lady over there wishes to know you more deeply. Shall I permit her to approach?"

Hearing this, Shen Zeming turned his head slightly, casting a brief glance toward the women, who quickly averted their eyes, offering him faint smiles.

"Unfortunately," he replied smoothly, shaking his head, "I'm quite busy meeting a ‘business’ partner here." His gaze lingered on them for only a moment before returning to his wristwatch, the movement deliberate and measured.

Inwardly, however, his thoughts were elsewhere. She’s taking longer than expected, he mused, thinking back to his earlier decision. He had intentionally left his phone active while issuing commands to his subordinates to investigate Li Yue.

'The reason? It will keep them alert to anyone visiting the police department,' he thought with a faint smirk. By ensuring they stayed on edge, he knew the ensuing events—the inevitable visit from the protagonist, possibly injured or involved in a case—would leave a strong first impression, not necessarily a favorable one, on Wei Feng and her team.

As he waited, the restaurant staff discreetly opened the door. An Rong entered, her presence commanding attention despite her simplicity. She wore a form-fitting blue shirt with long sleeves beneath a winter jacket, her movements brisk and purposeful.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting, Brother Shen," An Rong said hurriedly, apologizing as she removed her long black winter jacket. The quiet murmur of the restaurant shifted slightly as a few guests turned their attention to her, their gazes subtly judging her appearance—especially the stark contrast of her police uniform against the refined elegance of the setting.

“It’s alright. I know Sister An must be very busy,” Shen Zeming replied with an easy wave of his hand, his faint smile as composed as ever. “Take your time. Shall we eat first before diving into the main topic?” he offered warmly.

As if on cue, the attentive waitstaff appeared, efficiently placing a selection of dishes on the table before retreating with quiet precision.