The Billionaire's Multiplier System-Chapter 82 - 83 – After Velvet, Before Fire

The dinner had ended, but the war had only shifted rooms.

Behind the double doors of the east salon, soft jazz played over hidden speakers. Smoke from vintage cigars curled upward toward golden chandeliers. Bottles worth more than small apartments glistened behind a private bar staffed by a man who didn’t smile once.

The afterparty wasn’t about dancing or unwinding—it was about positioning. Here, conversations no longer needed metaphor. Here, secrets were traded like currency.

Lin Feng stood near the center of the room, a glass in hand. Not drinking—observing. The clusters were already forming. Lu Tianye held court near the leather armchairs, spinning a tale about overseas transitions. Zixuan lingered in a shadowed corner, his white tux now half-unbuttoned, still surrounded by sycophants disguised as friends.

The girls had each drifted, navigating their own circles. Lin didn’t follow. Not yet.

Instead, he turned and walked toward the balcony.

The air outside was cooler, sharp with late-autumn edge. And there, leaning against the iron railing, was Qin Yuyan.

She didn’t turn when he approached.

"You don’t belong in that room," she said softly.

"Why not?"

"Because they talk about fire like it’s a concept. You walk into it."

He stood beside her, arms crossed loosely.

"They don’t fear you," she added. "Not yet. Right now, they admire you. Curiosity is still stronger than their insecurity."

"And when it isn’t?"

"Then they’ll move to eliminate you."

She finally turned to face him, the moonlight catching the curve of her cheekbone, the softness behind her eyes.

"You played it well tonight," she said. "No arrogance. No posturing. But if you keep climbing, they’ll stop inviting you to play."

He nodded. "I’m not here to be liked."

"That’s what I’m afraid of," Yuyan whispered. "Because if you start winning alone... people like me won’t be able to keep standing next to you."

He looked at her then—closely. The woman who had once kept her emotions folded between brushstrokes and unfinished canvases now looked... exposed. Not weak, but real.

"I don’t plan to walk ahead of you," Lin said. "I plan to walk with you."

She stared at him for a long moment.

"Then don’t start choosing which of us gets your shadow," she said, and slipped inside without waiting for a reply.

Inside the lounge, Guo Yuwei was seated alone near a blackwood end table, flipping a silver coin between her fingers. Not a nervous tic—an old habit. A sign she was thinking.

"You always sit where you can see exits," Lin observed, sitting opposite her.

She didn’t glance up. "Old instinct. Still useful."

"You surprised me tonight."

"Which part? The dress or the silence?"

"The way you defended me."

Yuwei let the coin fall flat on the table.

"I didn’t do it for you," she said. "I did it because they needed to see someone intelligent believe in you. Half those people still measure worth by who vouches for you."

"And you vouch for me?"

She looked at him now. "I don’t lie to myself, Lin. I know you’re dangerous. I know you’re not predictable. But I’ve seen what happens when someone like you points all that fire at something noble."

Her voice lowered, just enough to pull him in.

"If you stop aiming it, if you lose control—I’m gone. No speeches. No drama. Just gone."

Lin nodded.

Yuwei stood, sliding the coin into his palm. "Until then, I’m in."

He looked down.

A silver liberty coin.

Outdated, rare. Like trust.

Luo Bingqing found him later in the north garden, seated at the stone bench under lantern-lit trees. She tossed him a half-eaten macaron from the dessert cart.

He caught it instinctively.

"You know," she said, folding her arms, "I almost threw wine at that inheritance hag."

"Lanyue?"

"She talks like someone who married power and now thinks it makes her holy."

"She’s used to testing for weaknesses."

"Did she find any?"

"She found loyalty."

Bingqing smirked. "You’re lucky I hate her more than I enjoy being difficult."

She sat beside him, boots crunching on loose gravel.

"I’ve been asked to shoot a government-funded piece on urban housing failures," she said. "But they want it sanitized."

"You’ll refuse?"

"I’ll make it raw enough they’ll hate me but love the ratings."

He chuckled.

"And you?" she asked. "What’ll you do if they cut you off from polite power? From Ruoxi’s protection? From the game?"

"I’ll build something beneath them," he replied. "Real. Permanent."

Bingqing whistled softly. "That’s the scariest thing you’ve said all night."

She stood up, brushed invisible dirt from her coat.

"By the way," she added, "I wore a suit tonight for intimidation."

"It worked."

"Liar. You didn’t even blink."

"I never do around you."

For a moment, her bravado cracked. But just a flicker.

Then she turned and walked off, hands in her pockets.

Ruoxi found him last.

It was late, near 2 a.m., and the salon had mostly cleared. The servers were stacking glasses. The smoke had thinned.

She stood by the fireplace, arms crossed.

"You didn’t drown," she said. "Good."

"You thought I might?"

"Not drown. Drift."

Lin walked over, silent.

"They think you’re confident," she said, gaze fixed on the embers. "I know it’s something else."

"What is it?"

"Pain. Controlled pain. Translated into precision."

He didn’t respond. She went on.

"They’ll come harder next time. No more polite jabs. They’ll research your past. Trace your patterns. Pit your allies against each other."

"I know."

She looked at him then. Her tone dropped.

"I can’t protect you if you try to protect everyone else."

"You’re not responsible for me."

"That’s not the point," she snapped. "The point is, if I back you, I need to know you’ll survive it."

"I will."

"Say it like you mean it."

"I will."

Finally, she let out a slow breath.

"I wore red tonight so they’d remember who stood beside you. But next time..." Her voice trailed off.

"Next time?" he prompted.

"I don’t know," she admitted. "But I hope it still matters."

He stepped closer.

"It will."

They didn’t touch. But the space between them thinned until it was thick with all the things neither said.

Then she stepped back. Just enough.

"Go get some sleep," she said. "The real invitations will come after sunrise."

As Lin walked toward the exit of the estate, he noticed something he hadn’t earlier.

The helianthus crest—the sun-flower shaped sigil on the marble wall near the entry—had two leaves folded back, revealing a secondary symbol beneath: a fox.

Clever. Dangerous. Always watching.

He left the hall with his mind clearer than it had been hours ago.

Zixuan had made his first move.

The girls had shown him their truths.

And the city?

The city had taken note.

What happened next wouldn’t be dinner.

It would be fire.

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