Chapter 175: Blank

Chapter 175: Chapter 175: Blank

Renee Morgan thought he would refuse like last time, but he replied quickly.

He said,

"I’ll treat you."

Renee: "..."

Normally, when a man doesn’t want a woman to pay, he’ll just discreetly cover the bill himself. But with him, it was direct—he made it clear he’d host.

Definitely a steel-willed type, zero pretense.

"Alright, I’ll wait for your timing." Renee typed a line and sent it over.

Ethan Sterling replied almost instantly.

He said, "Anytime works for me."

Renee: "..."

Even words that would normally come off as flirty, Officer Sterling could, through a screen, still fill with a sharp, iron-blooded vibe.

It was clear he was just stating the fact—he really did have the time, anytime was fine.

Renee considered his current situation—there was no room for delay. She replied, "I have an audition tomorrow, should be done by afternoon. How about dinner?"

Not wanting him to trouble himself over a venue, Renee picked a chain Hunan restaurant with a good reputation and sent it over.

Ethan had always kept his word; seeing she’d decided the time, he replied with a simple "okay."

He noticed her link, clicked without thinking. Up popped a store, and as he scrolled, it was an electronic menu. The address was a spot in a regular local plaza.

Rumor had it that female celebrities were like rich flowers: elegant, delicate, and living a life that money nurtured—a few hundred yuan for a meal was nothing, even tens of thousands was expected.

Ethan was tough, but he was also sharp enough to read between the lines. In an instant, he understood this was Renee’s way of keeping it affordable for him.

"Sterling, someone outside wants to come in and toast you..." Linley Lincoln leaned over and whispered a name.

Ethan’s thoughts were interrupted. His gaze, icy and distant, swept to Linley. Brow furrowed: "You friends with them?"

Linley: "..."

That’s him saying: mind your own business.

Normally, Linley wouldn’t dare stir things up, but with the status of the person outside, he couldn’t help blurting it out: "It’s Mayor Ford."

The city’s chief; a man the entire upper crust of Maridia couldn’t even get a glimpse of easily.

Ethan didn’t even flicker. His eyes narrowed a touch, face impassive as ever as he glanced over. "Whoever’s the mayor, I’m supposed to see them?"

Linley: "..."

Linley, snubbed, opened the private room door. The man at the entrance saw him come out, bent over, and peered in. "Lincoln, Chief Sterling..."

Linley glanced at Mayor Ford, and the long line of people now behind him—God knows when that happened.

For a second, he wondered if he’d opened the wrong door. Was their private room a public restroom? Why else the line?

Looking closer: brilliant, all of Maridia’s A-list faces were there.

Ethan was just too disrespectful to the old and young alike.

"Sterling..." Linley really couldn’t bring himself to repeat Ethan’s "Whoever’s the mayor, I’m supposed to see them?"

"Chief Sterling, whatever you need, just say the word." Jamie Ford noticed his discomfort, offered a knowing smile, and leaned in, showing utter deference.

"Mayor Ford... When I went in just now, Chief Sterling was still busy. Maybe you’d like to wait elsewhere for now?" Linley nearly lost it, but held back out of principle. Ethan was cold as frost, but he himself was a model citizen.

It took Linley ages to disperse the crowd outside. When he got back in, Ethan was in the exact same position: back against the sofa, one hand draped lazily over the top, cold starlit eyes lowered, fingers swiping his phone screen—as if waiting for a message?

Maybe a major assignment?

Only a handful knew Ethan had retired from service; Linley was one of them. But with Ethan’s status, it was never that simple—people higher up would never just let him go, even if District J’s leaders agreed.

Was he gearing up to show himself in public, paving the way for a new position?

Linley couldn’t stop speculating. Leaned on the wall, interest piqued, he scooted over for a sneak peek.

The phone went dark in Ethan’s hands. He gripped it tighter, spinning it like a disc between his thumb and forefinger. Those cold, razor-edged eyes drifted his way. "?"

Linley: "..."

Renee forwarded a food link from a mini-program.

That ended the topic. The other party didn’t reply for a long while.

Renee tapped the link repeatedly, making sure there was nothing wrong with it—that it wouldn’t bruise the guy’s damn pride—before exiting.

Several minutes passed before a new message finally popped up.

He said, "I’m hosting—shouldn’t I pick the place?"

Renee: "..."

Yet for all the "picking," he sent over a string of addresses and asked about her tastes.

The Hunan restaurant she chose was from a mini-program food link. The places Ethan sent, though, were a string of restaurant names, both English and Chinese, and every one of them sounded pricey.

The chat was dead silent for a few minutes. This time it was Ethan with questions.

It wasn’t until five minutes later he sent a location, followed by: "How about we eat at home? I’m a decent cook. If you don’t mind, I can make something?"

Ethan: "..."

Letting a woman buy groceries and cook for him—Ethan’s face went cold, and he quickly typed a line.

His tone, same as always: concise and direct. "I’m a good cook too. Come to my place?"

When Renee saw that message, she almost chucked her phone. Reflexively, she clutched it and nearly toppled off the sofa.

Because of that fiasco, she missed the window to refuse. By the time she stood up, gritting her teeth in pain, Ethan had already made the decision: "Where’s your audition tomorrow? I’ll pick you up afterwards."

Renee: "..."

They fought over hosting.

They fought over who’d pick the restaurant.

Even whose place and who’d cook—they had to bicker about that too.

The guy’s damn pride was bad enough. His killer competitiveness? Even more hopeless.

In the end, it was Renee who caved first. She sent him the audition address, said they’d touch base tomorrow, and pulled out her script to rehearse for the next day.

Right before bed, she reached for the box on her nightstand and took out the black slate.

As her fingerprint touched the slate, the screen lit up automatically.

The organization’s message board was lively tonight. The usual lurkers all came out—it seemed the 20-point task had been claimed.

The news stunned Renee. Not bothering to read the chat, she tapped straight into the points leaderboard to see who’d done it.

She had all the top ten scores memorized; whoever gained twenty, that was the one who did it.

But as soon as she opened the board, she saw number one—88 points, way ahead of everyone else.

She remembered the previous leader had 68. So whoever it was just got twenty—it must be him.

Renee couldn’t help but open his profile.

Aside from the ID, everything else was blank.

Renee: "..."

The whole message board was arguing about this "Blank" person.