Night had fallen by the time Kerry Phillips returned.
The moment he stepped inside, the thick scent of tobacco hit him.
He flipped the light on, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on the figure by the floor-to-ceiling window.
His expression darkened as he walked over.
"Smoking again?"
He plucked the cigarette loosely held between Cohen Phillips's lips, his tone sharp.
"I thought you quit."
Cohen, still admiring his finished painting, seemed unbothered.
"Needed some inspiration."
"Is the painting that urgent?"
"Urgent? My mentor is putting together an exhibition, asked me to contribute a piece or two to fill it out. Haven't felt much like painting lately, and the deadline's looming. He's been blowing up my phone."
With that explanation, Kerry found he had little left to say.
He stared at the litter of crumpled paper and cigarette butts on the floor, his brow furrowed.
"Can't you find inspiration another way?"
Cohen stretched his stiff body and stood, brushing him off.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll find another way."
Kerry looked him up and down.
"Forgot to eat lunch again, didn't you? You didn't pick up when I called."
"Phone was on silent. Needed to focus on the artistic process."
"You'll be the death of yourself," Kerry said with a cold laugh.
"Go change. We're going out for dinner. Davey's treating, says it's to welcome us back."
"Oh."
"Bard will be there."
Cohen headed towards his room.
"Oh..."
...
The private room in the upscale hotel was bustling when Kerry pushed the door open, Cohen in tow.
Pop! Pop!
Two party poppers exploded overhead, ribbons fluttering down around them.
Davey Doyle and another young man cheered, "Welcome back, Kerry!"
The room held a mix of familiar faces from the hot spring resort and a few strangers.
They all broke into applause.
Kerry smiled.
"Thanks, everyone."
"Hey now, and my boy Cohen too!"
Davey slung an arm around Cohen's shoulders.
"Let's hear it for Cohen!"
The crowd played along.
"Welcome, Cohen!"
Cohen's eyes curved into smiles.
"Thank you."
"Have a seat, Kerry."
Davey guided Cohen into the empty seat beside him.
"Bard's working late, he'll be here soon. Milton and Anthony are coming too. The big three of City B are all gracing us with their presence, Kerry. Now that's what I call a proper welcome!"
After sitting down, Kerry chuckled.
"It has been a long time since we've seen the old crew."
Back in their teens, Bard Morgan, Kerry Phillips, Milton Benjamin, and Anthony Ferguson had all attended the same high school.
After graduation, the other three had chosen to study abroad.
Kerry, unwilling to leave his frail younger brother behind, had stayed in City B.
Their contact gradually dwindled, reduced to occasional meetups when the others returned home.
Later, after Kerry moved to City Y, they'd lost touch completely...
No one present was just a frivolous socialite. Hearing that the "big three" were coming to this welcome dinner, they all started reading between the lines.
Kerry Phillips was back, and the winds in City B were shifting.
Those with the sharpest social awareness were already striking up conversations with Kerry.
"Cohen."
Davey poured a cup of hot tea for Cohen and leaned in with his phone.
"Didn't get a chance last time at the resort. Let me get your WeChat. I'll show you around."
Cohen nodded.
"Okay."
"Heh heh heh..."
Bard Morgan stepped into the private room just in time to see Davey Doyle pressed uncomfortably close to Cohen, a sleazy smile on his face.
Bard's dark eyes cooled instantly.
Davey, having just successfully added Cohen on WeChat, felt an inexplicable chill run down his spine.
He turned and his face lit up.
"Bard! You guys finally made it! Uh..."
Besides Bard Morgan and two other exceptionally handsome, imposing men, Cade Phillips was following behind them.
The noisy room quieted slightly, the atmosphere growing stiff and tinged with an indescribable awkwardness.
Cade Phillips's gaze sought out Kerry.
"Bro," he called out intimately.
The smile on Kerry's face remained gentle.
"Say hello to your brother."
Cade looked at Cohen.
"Bro."
Cohen gave a noncommittal "Hmm."
"Come on, sit, sit!"
Davey urged.
"We're all brothers who haven't seen each other in ages. No need for this strangeness. Bard, take the seat of honor."
Bard Morgan chose an empty seat and sat down, directly opposite Cohen Phillips.
Cade Phillips and Milton Benjamin sat on either side of him.
"Huh?"
Davey looked confused at Anthony Ferguson, who was still standing.
"Anthony, what are you doing just standing there?"
Anthony's expression was unreadable as he tilted his chin.
"You move over."
"What?"
Davey, baffled, scratched his head and vacated his seat.
"Alright, alright, whatever."
Under the curious eyes of everyone, Anthony Ferguson sat down next to Cohen Phillips.
With everyone present, Davey called for the waiter to order food and open the drinks, proclaiming loudly that no one was leaving sober.
With the top-tier figures present, the younger crowd initially held back, but after a few drinks and under Davey's boisterous lead, they gradually loosened up.
The heavyweights talked among themselves, and the others did their own thing.
Milton Benjamin and Cade Phillips were chatting with Kerry about his hot spring resort, showing great interest.
Bard Morgan, sandwiched in the middle, occasionally chimed in, but his gaze kept drifting to the opposite side of the table.
Cohen was eating quietly when a glass of liquor was suddenly pushed in front of him.
Anthony Ferguson looked at him, a slight, mocking eyebrow raised, his smile not reaching his eyes.
"Long time no see. A toast?"
Cohen met his gaze, set down his chopsticks, picked up his half-full glass, clinked it with Anthony's, and downed it in one go.
A smirk tugged at Anthony's lips as he finished his own drink.
He immediately picked up the bottle and refilled Cohen's glass, taunting, "Your brother babies you so much, I thought he wouldn't let you drink."
Cohen ignored the malice in his tone and picked up his chopsticks again.
Anthony pushed the full glass of strong liquor back towards him.
"Another one. Welcome back."
Cohen gave him a cool glance and drank another glass with him.
Anthony persisted, pouring again and again. Before long, Cohen was starting to look a little unsteady.
"Holy crap!"
Davey turned around after a round of finger-guessing game, reaching for the bottle only to find it empty.
He stared incredulously at Anthony, who was pressing his fingers to his temples.
"Anthony, what the hell? You're trying to out-drink Cohen?"
His loud exclamation successfully drew the attention of the entire table.
Bard Morgan, who had been watching Cohen all along, had long since darkened his expression.
"Holy crap! My $30,000 whiskey! Not a drop left!"
Davey shook the empty bottle, then leaned in to peer at the two who had secretly polished it off.
He laughed.
"Anthony, you're no good, can't even hold your liquor against Cohen."
Anthony already had a drunken haze about him.
In contrast, Cohen's eyes were clear, his face wasn't even flushed.
If not for the strong smell of alcohol on him, you'd think he'd been drinking water the whole time.
Kerry frowned as he looked over.
Anthony, still pressing his throbbing temples, suddenly looked up and met Kerry's gaze, a provocative smirk twisting his lips.
Kerry's eyes turned cold.
"Anthony."
Milton Benjamin's voice held a note of warning.
Anthony snorted coldly, snatched the cigarette pack beside him, and stood up.
"You all carry on. I'm going out for a smoke."
He slammed the door on his way out, plunging the room into awkward silence again.
Davey waved a hand in front of Cohen's face.
"Cohen, you okay?"
Cohen shook his head to indicate he was fine, picked up his chopsticks, and continued eating.
"Hahaha, everyone, don't just sit there! Drink up!"
Davey raised his glass.
"Kerry, another toast to you! Welcome back to City B!"
Everyone started chattering and raising their glasses, standing to offer their congratulations, and the atmosphere livened up once more.
Cohen finished the last few bites of his rice, wiped his mouth, and slipped away from the lively table, quietly exiting the private room.
In the corridor near the restrooms, he spotted Anthony Ferguson leaning against the wall, engulfed in a cloud of smoke.
Anthony saw him too, the malice in his eyes pouring out as he strode over, cigarette in hand.
Cohen showed no fear.
Anthony, half a head taller, bent slightly to look him level in the eye and spat out venomous words, "You little burden."
Cohen raised an eyebrow.
"You still want to be my sister-in-law?"
"Tch—"
The cigarette butt burned his finger.
Anthony dropped it swiftly, snarling in anger, "Who the hell wants to be your sister-in-law?"
"Whoever acts like a resentful wife, jealous over everything, probably wants to."
"Shut your mouth! Who's a resentful wife!"
"Oho, looks like someone identified themselves."
Anthony seethed, his chest heaving with rage as he glared, humiliated.
A smirk played on Cohen's lips.
"If I didn't see how you've been pining for six or seven years, I wouldn't be your punching bag. That's enough. If you want to throw a tantrum, go do it with my brother. Let him be the one to soothe you."
With that, he walked into the restroom.
"The hell I will!" the six-foot-tall man roared in frustrated fury behind him, his ears turning a deep, burning red.