Self-ejection

Fei Huangjin had not been at the bunkers since he was a teenager. Back then, his father had brought him there after a rigid day of training. He had bruises on his face and arms, a dried-up wound on his leg, and he hadn't showered for over twenty-four hours.

He was to take over the Dragon Club when the time came. And his father believed that he had to prepare his son both mentally and physically for it. Fei Yangcheng brought him there to make him understand that being the mountain master meant being on the verge of death at any time.

The bunkers were at opposing ends of the headquarters. Inside were a supply of preserved food, weapons, and with the right settings, the bunker could be ejected from the building, if needed. Fei Huangjin was supposed to take over Bunker 1 when his father died and reserve Bunker 2 for his future heir, but he didn't want it. It reminded him too much of his father.

But now, three years after his father's death, he was to return to that particular room – not for his father, or for himself, but for the woman walking beside him with her hand in his.

He glanced at her, smiling slightly at the way her nose wrinkled a little from concentrating too much on where they were going. He must really like her a lot to do so much for her. All she had to do was order him, and he would willingly give her anything. If Ying Yue was the type of woman who abused authority and finances, Fei Huangjin would be broke and jailed by now. He was that hooked to her.

She glanced at him with a snarky look. "Hey, doesn't this lead to your office?" Ying Yue may not be that versed in the layout of this building, but she had a good memory.

"Mmm."

Her face broke out into one of annoyance. Oftentimes – especially at the office, he only answers like that with no further explanation. "What does 'mmm' even mean?"

Fei Huangjin flashed her a bemused expression. "The bunker can be accessed through my office."

"Oh."

"Mmm." His hand tightened around hers. Ying Yue's fingers were long and slender, but her hand was also rough and very unladylike. There were a few callouses and dried scratches on her palms, a lasting reminder that she was far from a simple girl. Nevertheless, he found them perfect – just like how people like her found perfection in a champagne diamond [1].

The two got inside the office's adjacent bedroom, where Fei Huangjin occasionally slept when he had too many things to deal with at the syndicate. The bedroom had a hidden door that led to a private elevator, and the elevator led down to Bunker 1.

"The door to this bunker is made of special steel, developed by Zhang Zihan's grandfather." He had his eyes scanned on the panel before inserting a thick odd-looking key into the slot at the door and turned it. Several layers of steel walls began to open up until it revealed a rather spacious square room.

Ying Yue's eyes were wide as she stepped in. She felt an electric-like tingle all over her body, and she pulled away from Fei Huangjin to scratch the back of her hand a little unnaturally.

The overhead light cast a worried sheen of light in his eyes. No one knew about the bunkers other than the masters and their right hand men. Although he trained with the syndicate since he was young, he didn't care much about the people here and their positions before his father suddenly died. If it wasn't for his father's heart attack, he expected a couple of more years before he was to take over the syndicate.

And so the question bothering him remained. Could Ying Shen have been Fei Yangcheng's right hand man after all?

He turned his head to his fiance, who was already pretty busy rummaging through the room like she owned it.

"Are there any secret shelves or compartments here?" She had his back to him, and when he drifted over to see what she was tinkering at, his eyes widened in alarm.

"Don't touch that!"

He pulled her away from the panel on the wall and closed the panel with its encasement. He blew out a breath of relief. "These are the controls for self-ejection!"

"Oh. Cool." She grinned in reply to his look of consternation. "Sorry!"