met free Chapter 278 Lin Yan Who Lost Happiness
Chapter 278 Lin Yan Who Lost Happiness
Time flies, and before we knew it, it was time for the first day of school.
At the new semester's morning assembly, the familiar "meal buddies" reunited. Mike and Tom chattered incessantly like two energetic sparrows. Daniel, as always, was reliable, quietly handing over the summer homework he had finished for Lin Yan.
Lin Yan smiled knowingly, took out two carefully wrapped books from his bag—"Adventures in the World of Physics" and "Aha, A Flash of Inspiration"—and handed them to Daniel.
"This is for you... as a token of my appreciation for your hard work."
Daniel took the book, his fingers unconsciously tracing the gold-embossed title on the cover. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, his ears turned slightly red, and he whispered, "Lin, thank you... I like it very much."
Lin Yan smiled at his expression and casually waved her hand, "If you like it, that's good. Let's not talk about this between us."
When school let out in the afternoon, Kyle and several burly men from the rugby team saw Lin Yan and his two companions at the bustling school gate and immediately turned to run away like mice seeing a cat.
"stop."
Lin Yan reacted quickly, grabbing Kyle by the back of his collar. The 1.9-meter-tall man stumbled and almost fell over.
"You run away as soon as you see me?" Lin Yan raised an eyebrow. "Have you forgotten what you promised me?"
Kyle froze, memories of being dominated by Wing Chun flooding back. He quickly stood at attention, his voice booming, "Boss! You're our boss!"
The other team members quickly joined in, shouting, "Hello, boss!"
Lin Yan released his grip with satisfaction, patted Kyle on the shoulder, and grinned like a wicked cultivator: "Remember, don't run away next time we meet. I'll be keeping an eye on you."
He leaned closer and lowered his voice: "If I find out you're bullying your classmates again..."
He didn't say anything more, but that meaningful chuckle made the hairs on the heads of the burly men stand on end.
Watching them flee in disarray, Lin Yan stroked his chin. He felt utterly wicked at that moment.
Back home, Lin Yan slumped listlessly in a deck chair in the courtyard, idly tugging at Xiao Qi's tail, which made the little guy grunt in dissatisfaction.
He looked up at the sky, sighed deeply, and complained to Charles, who was standing beside him, "Charles, you know, once people have everything at their fingertips, don't they drift further and further away from happiness? It's so boring."
Charles and Lin Gang exchanged a glance and saw the same smile on each other's faces—it seemed that their young master's "chuunibyou" (middle school syndrome) had flared up again.
Charles suppressed a laugh, stepped forward, and offered his advice with the professionalism of a butler: "If the young master is feeling bored, I can book you a reservation at one of New York's top private clubs? It would be good to relax there."
Upon hearing this, Lin Yan immediately sat up straight and retorted righteously, "Nonsense! Do you think I'm that kind of person? Your young master is still a minor! Vulgar! Superficial!"
"Yes, yes, young master is right. I was not thoughtful enough." Charles readily admitted his mistake by bowing his head.
There was a two-second silence. Lin Yan slumped back into the recliner, his gaze drifting into the distance, and softly asked:
"So... are the girls there pretty?"
Charles's professional smile froze instantly: "..."
At nine o'clock in the evening, the neon lights outside El Morocco were flashing. Lin Yan, Tom and Mike looked like three little dogs soaked in the rain, and were stopped at the door by the bodyguards who had no expression on their faces.
"Lin, is this what you meant by 'showing us the world'?" Tom said, his face falling. "We couldn't even get through the door!"
Mike nodded frantically, and the two of them turned to look at Lin Yan.
Lin Yan felt his ears burning for once. He really hadn't expected the bodyguards here to be so strict. After carefully checking their identity information, they blocked them at the door on the grounds that "those under the age of 19 are prohibited from entering places where alcohol is only consumed."
Seeing the disappointment in his two friends' eyes, Lin Yan took a deep breath—and called for backup!
"Calm down." He sent a divine sense across most of New York into Alexander's mind:
"I was stopped at the entrance of El Morocco. Find a way to let us in within ten minutes."
He gave his two friends, who were staring at him expectantly, a mysterious smile: "Wait a few more minutes, the problem will be solved soon."
Ten minutes later, a Rolls-Royce silently pulled up in front of the club. Ethan got out of the car and strode over to Lin Yan. His lips twitched slightly, clearly trying to suppress a smile, and he respectfully whispered, "Young Master."
Lin Yan narrowed his eyes: "Is it that funny? Hurry up and think of a solution."
Ethan immediately straightened up, turned around and walked towards the bodyguard at the door. He first took out a patterned business card from his suit pocket and handed it to him, then leaned closer to the two men and whispered a few words in their ears.
The two bodyguards' expressions quickly changed from serious, businesslike demeanor to surprise. They then stepped aside to make way for Lin Yan, their gazes now filled with a hint of awe.
Seeing this, Tom and Mike immediately straightened their backs and followed Lin Yan inside with their heads held high. As they passed the bodyguards, the two of them simultaneously rolled their eyes at him triumphantly, returning all the resentment they felt from being stopped at the door.
Stepping into El Morocco, Lin Yan felt as if he had entered an alternate dimension constructed from blue zebra stripes. The striking contrast of black and white emanated from the famous curved sofas, creating a wonderful color clash with the deep red carpet. Openwork brass lamps hung from the ceiling, casting interwoven light and shadow like tropical vines, perfectly blending Moroccan style with the geometric lines of Art Deco.
The air was thick with the rich aroma of cigars, a mingled scent of perfume and alcohol. A small jazz band was playing Miles Davis-style cool jazz on a corner stage; the languid trumpet whispered like a nighttime murmur, its rhythmic bass pulse seeping into the very bones. On the dance floor, several elegantly dressed couples were dancing the slow foxtrot closely together, the sequined skirts of the women shimmering like flowing galaxies under the lights as they twirled. At the edge of the dance floor, a man with a goatee was demonstrating the latest hip-twisting dance moves to his partner, eliciting a restrained chuckle.
Lin Yan's gaze was aimlessly sweeping over the blue zebra-striped sofas when Tom suddenly grabbed his arm excitedly.
"My God!" Tom said, trying to keep his voice down but unable to hide his excitement. "Look at three o'clock! There's Rock Hudson! He's talking to Doris Day—good heavens, they're together off-screen too!"
Mike gripped Lin Yan's other arm tightly and pointed to another corner: "Wait, isn't that Lana Turner, the one who had that incident last year? The newspapers said her daughter killed her gangster boyfriend—"
Before Lin Yan could react, his two friends had already sandwiched him between them, pointing in various directions like commentators at a live event:
"Look over there! That's Jerry Lee Lewis. I heard he married his 13-year-old cousin and was booed off stage during a performance in England!"
"And then there's Ingrid Bergman! She had a huge scandal because of her affair with an Italian director, and for several years no one dared to cast her in a film..."
Lin Yan was overwhelmed by the flood of gossip. He didn't usually pay much attention to entertainment news, and at this moment he could only look blankly in the direction his friend pointed, watching the faces that flickered with different emotions in the dim light.
At this moment, Ethan calmly walked to their side and whispered, "Young Master, it's all arranged. The table against the wall has the best view; it offers a clear view of the entire room without drawing too much attention."
They followed Ethan through the crowded dance floor and, sure enough, found a table reserved in the best spot. After ordering drinks for them, Ethan quietly sat not far from the three of them, like an invisible barrier, ready to respond to Lin Yan's needs at any time without disturbing their conversation.
"Wow, your housekeeper is amazing!" Mike looked at Ethan's retreating figure with admiration. "He can even handle a place like this."
Tom continued his excited scan of the room, then suddenly gasped, "Hey! That photographer—Jerome Zelb—he's coming this way!"
The renowned club photographer was seen moving among the zebra-striped sofas, occasionally raising his camera to capture intimate moments. When he passed Lin Yan's table, he surprisingly stopped and gave Lin Yan a slight nod.
"I'll make sure to avoid filming with you and your friends tonight, so please enjoy the night," he said softly, smiled politely, and continued his hunt.