The feng shui in the alley is all about constant change.
One second, Josie, the boss, was fierce and menacing, but now he was practicing a ninety-degree bow towards William's back, so enthusiastic he looked ready to get William a lifetime VIP gold card on the spot.
The farce at the alley entrance was forcibly brought to a close by the most unreasonable kind of "money power."
Jessica Jones's messy black hair lifted slightly.
She glanced at William, who looked like he was "leaving after accomplishing his task, his merits deeply hidden."
"Hey, insurance salesman."
"Please call me William, or 'Your most thoughtful, reliable, 360-degree, always-on-call exclusive risk consultant' also works; I'm not picky."
William wore a standard professional fake smile, showing eight teeth.
But the little abacus in his mind was clattering away.
Fortunately, not too many compensation points were deducted this time, otherwise this would have been a huge loss.
Jessica was clearly not interested in this long string of titles, or rather, she was immune to any of William's titles.
She cut straight to the chase: "To your place, for a drink."
William was stunned.
To my place?
For a drink?
Isn't this plot developing a bit too fast?
Paid content shouldn't jump around like this!
Besides, a single man and woman, late at night… A hundred and eight possible accidents that would require using compensation points again flashed through his mind.
"Uh, my place might… not be very convenient." William tried to retreat strategically with the most tactful phrasing.
"Less talk."
Jessica uttered three words.
Concise and to the point.
Then she strode off with her long legs in a direction William never expected.
That direction… was his old, dilapidated apartment in a forgotten corner.
William: "??? "
Sister, that's not how the script is written!
"Hey! Jessica, wait!" He quickly chased after her, "I moved!"
Jessica stopped and looked back.
Her eyes clearly read, "Let's see what other tricks you can pull," then she gestured with her chin towards the roadside, indicating for him to lead the way.
A taxi quickly pulled to a smooth stop in front of an apartment building where just looking at the entrance told you, "don't even think about walking in without a few zeros."
Jessica looked up at the building, which seemed to have "I'm expensive" tags plastered all over it.
Behind each of those brightly lit windows, there seemed to be a story about "the simple and boring joy of rich people."
She lowered her head again.
She glanced at the wall dust on the cuff of her leather jacket and the slightly darker stain on the knee of her jeans, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.
"You live here?"
Her tone carried a strange hint of, "Did you secretly win five hundred million behind my back, kid?"
"Yeah, just moved. The old place's decor doesn't match my current vibe."
William shrugged casually, feigning nonchalance with a "basic move, no big deal" attitude, and led the way in.
The elevator ascended smoothly and silently.
The gleaming metal interior clearly reflected their figures.
Jessica stood with her hands in her leather jacket pockets, saying nothing.
She just meticulously scrutinized every reflective surface in the elevator with eyes that seemed capable of scanning barcodes.
William pushed open the door, and the sensor lights automatically came on.
The entryway was spotless, and next to the grey fabric sofa in the living room, which looked so inviting one could sink into it and never want to get up, was a walnut coffee table.
On it, there was even a copy of "Selected Insurance Law Cases and 300 Tricks of Sophistry," which William had flipped through a couple of pages for show and then left there.
Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows was Manhattan's iconic, dazzling nightscape, woven from countless lights.
While it was still a hundred and eight thousand miles away from the "overlooking all mountains and even seeing alien invasions" level of the top floor of Stark Tower, it was enough to make ninety-nine percent of New Yorkers exclaim with envy, "I'm so jealous."
"Come in and sit, Jessica, don't be shy, make yourself at home… uh, just sit anywhere."
William pulled out a pair of brand-new cotton slippers from the shoe cabinet, ready to hand them over.
Then, the heroic image of Jessica kicking a burly man flying flashed through his mind, and he silently put the slippers back.
He felt that.
These fuzzy, soft things were probably incompatible with Jessica's "don't get close to strangers, and not too close to acquaintances either" aura.
Their elements were also clashing.
Jessica stood at the entrance, unmoving.
She was like a Beast in a china shop, every pore of her body exuding resistance.
This place… was too clean, too quiet.
Even the air carried a faint, almost imperceptible scent of some high-end fragrance, as if made of money molecules.
This made her completely uncomfortable.
She felt like Gargamel who had stumbled into Snow White's castle, and in the next second, she would be chased out by seven dwarfs with mops and brooms.
She belonged to the dark alleys of Hell's Kitchen, always filled with the smell of sweat and despair.
She belonged to her detective agency, piled with empty liquor bottles and unsolved cases, not a place where the windows were cleaner than her face.
"I…"
Jessica rarely uttered a single syllable, her voice carrying a hesitation she didn't even notice.
"Never mind, I'd rather…"
She wanted to say, I'd rather go to the 24-hour convenience store around the corner downstairs, buy two cans of dark beer, and drink them on the curb; that would be more comfortable.
"Since you're already here, Jessica, don't act like you're going to an execution."
William instantly saw through the tough woman's deep-seated unease.
His smile remained "professional and friendly."
"And," he changed the subject, with a hint of just the right amount of mystery.
"I have good liquor here, a treasured stash. I guarantee it's a hundred times better than the stuff Josie's bar sells for high prices, which is just alcohol mixed with tap water and a bit of coloring."
As he spoke, he turned elegantly and walked to the liquor cabinet in the corner of the living room, skillfully pulling out a bottle of Scotch whiskey with a subtly luxurious design, a slightly yellowed label, and an obvious story (and price tag).
With a "pop," he single-handedly uncorked the tight wooden stopper.
A rich aroma of peat, smoke, and oak instantly permeated the air, Domineeringly taking over the space previously dominated by the high-end fragrance.
Under the lights, the amber liquid gently swirled in the bottle, reflecting a captivating sheen, as if every drop condensed the wind of the Scottish Highlands, the light of years, and the soul of the distiller.
As if every drop condensed the essence of time and the soul of the distiller.
William pulled out the cork, and a rich aroma of wine instantly permeated the air.
He swirled the bottle in his hand and raised an eyebrow at Jessica.
"Drinking alone is boring, Jessica, care to join me?"
His smile was three parts professional, seven parts seductive.
Some drinking sessions are not about drinking from the start.