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墨書 Inktalez
“Snooker!” Jufeng repeated, turning to the Pool Table beside him, which looked slightly larger than a standard Pool table. Suddenly, everything clicked—no wonder it seemed so familiar; this was the Snooker he had caught a glimpse of on television.
Jufeng knew very little about billiards; the little he had learned in his youth was solely for survival, and he had always kept a respectful distance from such extravagant pastimes.
So, he asked a question that left the woman speechless.
“All the balls here are solid colors and don’t have numbers. The rules for playing must be different from Eight Ball, right?”
He expected Jufeng to either jump right in or politely decline, but instead, he seemed completely unaware of the rules. After nearly fifteen minutes of explaining the rules of Snooker, Jufeng lamented, “What’s the point of all these rules? Each color has a different score—how troublesome! In the end, isn’t it just about who breaks first wins?”
The woman paused, unsure whether Jufeng was being oblivious or if he was brazenly overstepping. The difficulty of Snooker was not even on the same level as Eight Ball. How could he speak so casually? However, she didn’t want to dwell on it too much; Jufeng had ignited her competitive spirit, and she desperately needed a victory to soothe her soul.
Without further ado, she decided to break first. Having removed two layers of clothing, she focused intently on the Pool Table, silencing her thoughts and concentrating fully.
“Bang!”
The crisp sound echoed through the small room as the red balls rolled across the Pool Table, and soon one sank into a pocket.
Seizing the opportunity, she maneuvered several balls with precision. In Eight Ball, there were fewer balls to choose from, allowing for more flexibility in positioning. But Snooker was different; it felt like a prolonged war where each player had to strategize from afar.
Lost in her game, she became oblivious to everything else. Jufeng watched for a while and realized that there was indeed a significant technical difference compared to Eight Ball. The pockets in Snooker were narrower, just barely accommodating the balls from Pool, which raised the stakes for accuracy. He then recognized that his earlier comments might have been inappropriate and wondered how much she might be silently criticizing him.
While Jufeng was lost in thought, a soft sigh suddenly broke the silence in the room. He snapped back to attention and looked at the Pool Table, realizing that the woman had run out of shots and had no choice but to play a defensive shot.
“Let me?” Jufeng said with a hint of mockery as he wiped chalk on his cue and approached the Pool Table.
The woman calmly said, "How you understand it is up to you. If you feel it's unfair, you can leave the opportunity for me."
Jufeng shrugged, noncommittal. He had only mastered Pool skills for less than half a day, so he was genuinely afraid of stumbling in Snooker. His expression finally turned serious, causing a subtle flutter in the heart of the woman beside him.
The woman's defensive shot was executed perfectly; she was positioned at the table's edge, far from the target red ball, making it difficult to take a shot. However, for Jufeng, the altered pocket and increased distance did not pose much of a challenge. He wasn't a traditional Pool player; he had taken an unconventional path.
He bent down, aimed, exhaled, and then struck the ball—all movements flowing seamlessly together. Of course, this was according to Jufeng's theory; to the woman, however, this action still seemed unremarkable.
Unexpectedly, the ball actually went in. After a slow and winding journey, it finally dropped into the pocket, and the position of the cue ball was quite favorable for the next shot.
The woman suddenly stood up from her seat, her face unable to calm down for a long time. The turbulent rise and fall of her chest clearly indicated her current feelings.
Jufeng naturally noticed the woman's astonished expression. Even he couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for himself—using his martial arts foundation, coordinated body movements, along with an extraordinary sixth sense made learning Pool surprisingly easy.
Ignoring the woman's reaction, Jufeng seized the moment and continued to play. From that point on, he completely controlled the initiative—quickly, very quickly, under the woman's unwavering gaze, Jufeng scored one shot after another!
Finally, after sinking all the balls into the pockets and carelessly placing his cue on the Pool Table, the woman slowly returned to reality.
At that moment, her heart sank entirely. There was no need to calculate each person's score because Jufeng had undoubtedly surpassed her by a large margin.
She had lost; this time there were no unexpected winds from nowhere. Yet she still lost. She lost in her area of expertise, and that feeling was truly disheartening.
"You won; I lost."
After a moment of silence, the woman finally spoke. She could achieve a perfect score in Snooker, but it required the right timing and circumstances. Jufeng, clearly new to Snooker, managed to hold his ground until the end; just this alone made her feel utterly defeated.
Romain was pleased, not because he had won, but because he was about to complete the task that Vera had assigned to him. Throughout the game, he had not cared at all about winning or losing; if it weren't for work, losing to even the simplest amateur player in Pool wouldn't have mattered at all.
"So, what now? It's time for you to fulfill your promise, my lady. I wonder if your method of undressing can still help you contain that overflowing spring light."
Romain leaned toward the woman lightly, but she had no choice but to step back slowly. Her expression was tense yet somewhat calm—a contradiction that somehow harmonized.
She truly was like a living embodiment of contradictions.
"Wait," the woman suddenly exclaimed. Romain stopped in his tracks, quietly observing her as she contemplated her next move.
In the narrow room with only the two of them, Romain believed there was no way for her to escape his grasp.
The woman took a moment to steady herself and gradually regained her composure. With a charming smile, she said, "Sir, your intentions are not merely to sneak a peek at me, are they? If that’s the case, then I fear I have misjudged you. If you have any requests, we can discuss them further; I believe I can meet your needs."
Romain was taken aback by her words. However, as silence lingered in the air, he seriously pondered Vera's earlier comments, ensuring there were no hidden meanings. He replied, "It seems you have indeed misjudged me."
The woman's anger flared at his response, especially since Romain had taken time to think before answering—this felt like a blatant humiliation. Filled with indignation, she retorted, "Fine! You truly are a lecher! Just wait for your demise."
As soon as she finished speaking, she touched something behind her and suddenly a hidden door appeared behind her. She fell into it effortlessly, and in an instant, the door closed behind her. Although Romain reacted quickly, he still did not make it through the hidden door. Staring at the wall that had returned to its original state, he couldn't help but curse under his breath.
"Crafty woman!"
Jufeng knew that this place was no longer suitable for him to stay, so he immediately retraced his steps, planning to return the way he came.
However, when he reached the large door leading from the inner room to the outside on the second floor, he suddenly found it tightly locked. A sense of urgency gripped Jufeng as he quickly changed direction and began searching for another way out.
Yet, in the winding corridor, he was startled to find several thugs appearing out of nowhere. They were not ordinary henchmen; each held a Tachi that Jufeng recognized, searching through the hallways for his presence.
With a swift movement, Jufeng slipped into another room, cursing under his breath.
"Irresponsible woman!"
It was clear that the two women referred to were not the same person.
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