Author: hoenimochi (Page 4 of 95)

       Shen Liu understood the meaning in those words and curled the corner of his lips. “I agree.”

       “Good.” Qin Mu said expressionlessly, “You understood your own physical condition, you were familiar with the rules of BDSM play, and you had the ability to foresee the intensity and risks of the activities I might have carried out last night. But during the routine pre-scene questions, you did not tell me you were tired or unwell, and during the scene, you did not take the initiative to call for a stop. Therefore, for the current result, you should bear the primary responsibility.”

       His reasoning for assigning responsibility was sound and well-founded. Shen Liu nodded. “En, it’s my fault…” He had wanted to hold back his cough but could not. He choked as he tried to cover his mouth, looking a bit dishevelled.

       Qin Mu silently waited for him to finish coughing. He half-lowered his eyes and said, “In a scene that requires cooperation between two people, failing to fully understand the sub’s physical condition and applying physical pressure beyond their tolerance is negligence and error on the Dom’s part. So I also share some of the responsibility. Besides that, I was under your care while in J City. Now that you have come all this way, I should fulfil my duty as host. All things considered, while you are ill, I will do my best to take care of you.”

       This turn was so sharp and sudden that Shen Liu’s sickly, foggy mind could not keep up. Before he even had time to react, Qin Mu had already stood up. He adjusted the head of the bed to a comfortable angle so Shen Liu could lean back, pulled the tray table into place for him, and then took a lunch box out of the paper bag he had brought.

       Inside was a soft and steaming hot plain congee paired with two light, palate-cleansing side dishes.

       Shen Liu froze, staring at him without blinking.

       Being looked at like that made a faint, suspicious flush appear at the tips of Qin Mu’s ears. His face remained stiff as he said, “I worked overtime today and didn’t have time to go home. I bought the congee on the way. Just make do with it.”

       He had come… to take care of him.

       Shen Liu felt dazed, overwhelmed by unexpected favour, as if he were in a dream.

       A beautiful dream he had waited far too long for.

       A gentle smile appeared in his eyes, growing richer and richer, like spring wind sweeping across a barren field and turning thousands of miles of emptiness lush in an instant. The heart inside his chest, numb for so long, fluttered like a fledgling learning to flap its wings, beating in chaotic bursts. The intermittent fever, the heavy drowsiness, the weakness, the agonising pain in his throat—all of it seemed to vanish, leaving only a faint sting at the tip of his nose.

       “Log…”

       “Eat quickly.” Qin Mu cut him off, his stiffness hiding a hint of shy embarrassment, as though afraid Shen Liu would say something that would embarrass him.

       Shen Liu dropped the subject. He picked up the spoon and tasted a mouthful. “It’s good.”

       It was nothing more than ordinary white congee. How good could it be?

       Qin Mu asked, “Did you burn your brain with fever?”

       Shen Liu laughed. The airflow tickled his throat, making him cough again.

       Just then, someone knocked. It was one of Chu Yu’s secretaries, the one surnamed Yang, whom Qin Mu had met a few times. She placed several large and small bags on the side table, her eyes crinkling with a smile as she said, “Our boss was worried that President Shen wouldn’t be used to the hospital’s nutrition meals, so he specially asked me to bring some food over. But he also told me, if I saw Lawyer Qin here, I should take all this back, because with you around, President Shen definitely won’t go hungry.” She deliberately paused and asked with a smile, “So should I… leave these, or take them back?”

       “Leave them.”

       “Take them back.”

       Qin Mu and Shen Liu spoke at the same time.

       “Eh?” Secretary Yang blinked. “The two of you don’t agree. Who should I listen to?”

       “Listen to him.” The ailing Shen immediately stepped back.

       “Then I won’t disturb you both. I’ll be on my way.” Understanding and efficient, Secretary Yang withdrew neatly.

       Qin Mu unpacked the various food boxes; inside were assorted pastries and abalone congee.

       “I’m only eating this.” Shen Liu did not even glance at the other food. He buried his head in his own bowl of white congee, gulping it down as if someone were about to snatch it from him.

       Qin Mu found it amusing. The corner of his lips curled up unconsciously, but he immediately forced it flat and turned his gaze aside as if nothing had happened. He stood up to refill the electric kettle with water, then placed the pillows and blanket from the cabinet on the sofa bed reserved for accompanying family members next to the hospital bed.

       Shen Liu froze. “You’re going to sleep here?”

       “En.”

       “No.” He grew a little anxious, speaking faster as he coughed and wheezed, “This thing is contagious. And I’m not sick enough to need someone accompanying me overnight. Even if I were, the hospital has caretakers. I’ll just sleep and be fine tomorrow. You should go.”

       “This isn’t your territory. You don’t get to decide.” Qin Mu pushed up his glasses and said calmly, “I’m giving you the treatment of a sub right now. Think it over. You only get this chance once. Don’t say I didn’t offer.”

       Shen Liu choked, calling out, “Log…”

       “Do you want it?” Qin Mu gave him no room to back out.

       Shen Liu admitted defeat helplessly. “…I want it.”

       “Then stop talking nonsense and keep eating your congee.”

       Obediently, Shen Liu lowered his head and finished all the congee and side dishes until the bowl was spotless. He wiped his mouth and said hoarsely, “I’m full.”

       “Do you need the bathroom?”

       “I can go myself.”

       Qin Mu placed the slippers neatly at his feet. Shen Liu got up and pushed the IV stand toward the bathroom. When he returned, he saw the bed had been tidied, and the window left open a crack for ventilation. He sat back down on the bed and switched to a roundabout strategy to persuade him. “You said you worked overtime today. You must have important cases on hand. If you catch the flu, it’ll delay things. And with you lying beside me, I won’t sleep well either. How about… moving to the outer room? Please, my dear Master?”

       This hospital suite had a small lounge with a three-seater sofa where one could sleep. Qin Mu glanced at him, considered it, then carried the blanket out.

       Shen Liu let out a breath of relief and finally lay down with ease. The little energy he had just been forcing out drained instantly. His high fever surged back with a vengeance, and he drifted into a heavy sleep. For half a year, he had been exhausting himself battling others, nearly wearing out what was left of his health. This time, the illness hit him like a collapsing mountain; he truly could not withstand it.

       His condition worsened at night, and his fever rose repeatedly without breaking. Every so often, Qin Mu checked his ear temperature. When it reached thirty-nine degrees Celsius, he fed him fever-reducing medicine and water. Seeing the heat still refuse to drop, he soaked a towel in warm water and wiped his body to cool him down.

       It was late at night, and the cicadas chirped outside. Inside the room, only the soft hum of the air conditioner remained. The nurse came to remove the IV needle, and the sleeping patient remained asleep. His face was flushed bright red, as if he had gotten drunk. Qin Mu suddenly remembered that night when he had received his admission letter from K University—he had thought Shen Liu was drunk beyond consciousness and, emboldened, had done something a bit out of line. Who would have thought this guy had not been drunk at all? He had been perfectly aware, pretending to be confused, quietly watching Qin Mu struggle in his secret crush. Later, Shen Liu explained that back then, he felt Qin Mu was still too young, had seen little of the world and of men, and he did not want him to be hung up on him. So even if he had been moved, he did not respond.

       That was exactly how he was—always making decisions ‘for his sake’ on his own. Over the years, he had done everything, whether he should or shouldn’t, and sometimes it really made one grit their teeth in frustration. Qin Mu had finally gotten the chance to torture him a little, yet now he had fallen sick and needed personal care. It was hard to tell who was torturing whom. After weighing between ‘giving him a proper beating’ and ‘taking naked photos to blackmail him’, Qin Mu noticed the ring hanging on Shen Liu’s chest. In the end, he could not bring himself to do either. Sullenly, he pressed a fever patch with a cartoon pig’s head onto his forehead.

       At dawn, Shen Liu’s high fever finally receded reluctantly. When he woke, he saw Qin Mu asleep, slumped over the edge of his bed. His heart felt as though it were soaking in sweetness to the point of bubbling, swelling with tenderness. Afraid that his cough would wake him, he carefully pulled the blanket up to cover half his face, leaving only his eyes peeking out to look at him.

       At seven-thirty, an alarm rang. Qin Mu woke in a daze, instinctively reached out to feel Shen Liu’s temperature, then withdrew his hand in slight embarrassment when he saw his eyes open. He straightened his collar and stood up.

       “I’m much better,” Shen Liu said. “You didn’t sleep well last night. Don’t drive today.”

       “Zhou Yi will pick me up on his way.” Qin Mu set down the hospital breakfast. “I’ll come back this evening. If you want to eat anything or need anything, message me.”

       “Finally took me off the blacklist?” Shen Liu laughed softly. “This illness was really worth catching.”

       Qin Mu ignored him and left. In the evening, he received a message from Shen Liu.

       Call Me Brother and I’ll Give You Candy: I asked Tao Ze to come. Don’t come to the hospital. Go home and rest.

       Given Shen Liu’s usual behaviour, who knew whether he was telling the truth? Qin Mu did not feel at ease, so he still went to the hospital. He pushed the door open quietly and saw Shen Liu inside, leaning against the pillow, talking to someone.

       It really was Tao Ze.

       Sick as he was, Shen Liu’s voice was thick with congestion, his tone lazy and languid. “Don’t ask me. I’m not handling anything right now. Let Shen Rong decide on his own.”

       “Oh.” Tao Ze responded, then after holding back for a long while, could not resist asking, “Boss… that thing stuck on your forehead… Do you know it’s there?”

       “Of course. Qin Mu put it on.” Shen Liu answered with complete calm, with even a hint of showing off. “It’s for fun. You wouldn’t understand.”

       Tao Ze was speechless, silently cursing him: sick bastard.

       At that very moment, outside the room, Qin Mu was also silently cursing: sick bastard. And he could not help wanting to laugh. Of course he was sick, he was in hospital after all. After confirming that Tao Ze was indeed taking care of him, Qin Mu quietly backed out.

       Shen Liu stayed in the hospital for four days and walked out lively and full of energy.

       That night, Qin Mu was buried in overtime work and lost track of time. The receptionist suddenly said someone was asking for him. No clients should be coming at this hour, so he stepped out in surprise. Shen Liu was leaning against the front desk with his hands in his pockets, chatting and laughing with the young receptionists.

       Qin Mu quickly looked him over and asked, “Why did you come?”

       “To deliver supper.” Shen Liu jerked his chin at the two delivery staff behind him, each carrying large bags of food.

       That night, the entire law firm ate an ultra-luxurious Japanese meal. Zhou Yi stuffed a sea urchin into his mouth with a grin. “Senior Shen, long time no see. You show up and immediately spend so much—how embarrassing.”

       “Don’t mention it. It’s nothing.” Shen Liu smiled and naturally placed a box of grilled eel rice in front of Qin Mu. He knew Qin Mu’s stomach was weak and could not handle raw or cold food, so he had chosen fully cooked dishes for him. Qin Mu accepted it, ate a few bites, then answered a phone call and said, “Take your time eating. I’m going to organise some materials to send to a client.”

       “I’ll go with you.” Shen Liu stood up as well.

       A few legal assistants under Qin Mu also tried to follow, but Zhou Yi tapped each one on the head with his chopsticks. “You guys eat your food.”

       Qin Mu’s office was not large, but everything was orderly. The pothos on the bookshelf grew lush, and there was a small fish tank on the desk. It was Shen Liu’s first time there. He did not disturb the work and wandered around on his own to look.

       Even though the man barely made a sound, Qin Mu still found it difficult to concentrate fully. Eventually, he issued an eviction order, “Aren’t you leaving?”

       “I’m waiting for you.”

       “You should go first. I’ll be a long time.”

       “I have nowhere to go.”

       Qin Mu raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

       “Staying alone in a hotel is too lonely. I just recovered from a serious illness and still need someone to take care of me. Could I trouble you to take me in for a few days?” Shen Liu slipped effortlessly into a pitiful act.

       “No.” Qin Mu refused without hesitation.

       “Sigh, then I’ll have to sleep here. Does the firm have any spare offices? If not, your sofa is fine. Considering our many years of history, you wouldn’t really make security throw me out, right?” Shen Liu looked at him with a bright, shameless fearlessness.

       A vein throbbed on Qin Mu’s forehead. “…What is your face made of?”

       “Love and sincerity.”

       He really…asking to be beaten up.

       The office door was made entirely of transparent glass. Any big commotion inside would definitely draw a crowd of people peering over. At a time like this, if he actually had security drag the man out, by tomorrow he would become the centre of gossip for everyone in the building.

       Qin Mu rubbed his forehead, suppressing the urge to beat him up, fished his access card out of his pocket, and threw it at him, gritting out, “Get lost.”

       Shen Liu slipped the card into his pocket and said softly, with a smile, “Dear Master, I’ll be waiting for you at home.” 

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       The light that fell into Shen Liu’s eyes was like the wavering shadows of trees, flickering bright and dim before his lowered lashes hid it away. That faint, dazed “Master…” sounded half like a plea for mercy, half like a confession of longing, carrying an indescribable emptiness and desolation, as if someone stood at the mouth of a dark alley, whispering into an impenetrable fog.

       The hand caging the back of his head withdrew without mercy, leaving behind only a trace of lingering warmth. “The game is over.” Qin Mu gave him a brief glance, then turned and stepped off the stage. He ordered the staff with an expressionless face, “Untie him. If you can’t, cut the ropes.” It was the first time in all his years as a Dom that he let someone else handle a sub’s aftermath.

       Shen Liu silently watched that departing back disappear through the door, then let out a soundless sigh under the mixed gazes of the crowd. This kind of full-body binding exerted intense pressure on blood circulation, leaving his limbs completely numb. Even after the ropes were removed, he couldn’t stand steadily for quite a while, like a robot that had broken down. Chu Yu supported him onto a sofa, asking, “Do you want me to help explain?”

       “No need.” Shen-the-crippled sprawled out on the sofa, long arms and legs half-reclined as he stretched out his joints. “I owed him.”

       Chu Yu curved his lips. “Repaying a debt like this to him will surely cause you a lot of suffering.”

       Shen Liu laughed, unbothered. “He held back. Otherwise, you would be looking for a stretcher to carry me out.”

       “What are you planning next?”

       “No rush. I still have most of my life ahead of me,” the man said with his eyes closed.

       The rain had stopped at some unknown time. Qin Mu walked alone along the river. He couldn’t drive after drinking, and he didn’t feel like talking to strangers, so he simply chose to walk back.

       Lu Cheng’s sudden departure had weighed on him. For the first time, he took the initiative to message Lu Cheng to ask what had happened—he wanted to know what Shen Liu had done this time. The other party was probably busy; there was no reply for a long while. Qin Mu slipped his phone into his pocket and continued forward, filled with speculations.

       The rain had subdued the daytime’s heat, and the oleanders by the road bloomed in full vigour. A thin crescent hung pale in the sky, and the clouds drifted lazily. Both water and sky were ink-dark, mingled with the haze of the mortal world. A faint mist hovered over Jialan River; blurred outlines of boats layered and hid within. Starlight and the boat lanterns were hazy, making it difficult to tell whether it was the Milky Way or earthly waters carrying the boats along. The river wind, damp with moisture, slipped into the night and brushed away the heat on his body, yet could not scatter the vexation in his heart.

       The streetlights were dim. Qin Mu wasn’t paying attention and stepped right into a shallow puddle left by the rain, soaking his shoes and socks. A little girl passing by must have found his startled expression amusing and laughed openly. Qin Mu also smiled, very gently. The young mother holding the child’s hand looked slightly embarrassed and pulled a tissue from her bag to offer him. Qin Mu accepted it, thanked her politely, and watched them leave.

       He didn’t bother with his wet shoes and socks. He tucked the tissue into his pocket and kept walking.

       Heracl-tus had said that one could not step into the same river twice, yet fate always enjoyed playing jokes with coincidences. Years ago, in heavy rain in Tingyun Town, his shoes had been soaked through; tonight, his feet were wet again from a roadside puddle. In this world, what one couldn’t escape included not only unexpected puddles but also men who went back on their word.

       No one knew that Qin Mu’s first instinct upon seeing Shen Liu had been to run.

       Because he didn’t know what attitude he should use to face him.

       That man was the one who had stolen heavenly fire to light his way, and also the one who had gripped his hand and forced him to face the darkness; the one who had wagered everything for him without counting the cost, and also the one who had drawn him into a web as a chess piece; the one who had silently guarded his steps all along, and also the one who had manipulated things in the shadows to shatter his principles; the one he had used all his strength to walk away from, and also the one whose single glance could make his resolve waver.

       He was the deity of his life, and also the heart-devouring demon he could not escape.

       Qin Mu had put in enormous effort to suppress the rising panic and helplessness, forcing himself to appear calm and composed. Yet that person had still brazenly laid hands on Lu Cheng. In that moment, a wave of immense disappointment roared through him like a violent wind, fanning the flames in his heart into an eruption.

       —What gave you the right to interfere in my life again and again? Have you ever respected my choices or my way of living? Do you think my life is a toy for you to manipulate at will?

       Qin Mu knew a Dom should not begin a scene under the influence of intense emotions, yet he still failed to hold back. He had wanted to teach Shen Liu a harsh lesson, but even that he had not managed to do. Not even the thin facade of cold composure he used to maintain appearances lasted to the end; he had been forced to flee in embarrassment. Those three questions—he dared to ask them of Shen Liu, but he did not dare to ask them of himself.

       Did he feel anything?

       He did.

       He hated this uncontrollable version of himself. But what should he do? What could he do?

       The rain from Tingyun Town had been falling in his heart for many years, and just when it had finally quieted, the snowy night of J City had come back into his dreams. Everyone said a tangled mess needed a swift blade to cut through. He had swung that blade twice, and each time he had split his own heart to pieces along with it. Now the knife in his hand had already dulled; he could no longer cut anything. All he could do was hold it and stand at one end of a dark alley, waiting for a dawn that he did not know when, or if, would arrive.

       Qin Mu returned home with a head full of thoughts. He fed the cats, took a shower, and lay down on the sofa. Beiwei probably liked the gr4p3fruit scent of his body wash; it burrowed into his arms of its own accord, finding a comfortable position to lie on his chest and watch him play tile-matching games. Dongjing sauntered over out of boredom to join the fun, and after some serious consideration of the sofa’s height and its own weight, sensibly chose to flop down on the carpet instead.

       One man and two cats, each in their own place.

       Qin Mu was focused on his game when a message from Lu Cheng arrived.

       Lu Cheng: Sir, I apologise for the late reply. There was a sudden landslide on Dongping Mountain. My medicinal herb plantation suffered significant damage, and some people were injured. It may take quite some time to handle everything. I’ll make an appointment with you again when I return to K City.

       Qin Mu stared at the lines for a moment before replying: Handle it properly. Stay safe.

       Lu Cheng replied quickly: Thank you.

       Qin Mu no longer had the mood to keep playing. He tossed his phone aside and stared up at the ceiling.

       This was a natural disaster, not human harm.

       He had misunderstood Shen Liu.

       And that bastard had simply let him misunderstand, offering not a single explanation, sitting tight and waiting for his guilt to come afterwards.

       …Bastard.

       He knew he had fallen into Shen Liu’s calculations again, yet strangely, the heavy stone pressing on his chest had suddenly vanished. His whole being felt lighter. Qin Mu rested his arms behind his head and thought of how that man, bound in five-flower rope, had been tormented until he begged for mercy. He murmured to himself, “Serves you right.”

       Beiwei stared at him with innocent sapphire-blue eyes. Qin Mu chuckled softly and lightly scratched its chin. “Not talking about you. I mean that bad cat out there—clingy, sly, full of tricks—not cute like you two.”

       Beiwei, satisfied, closed its eyes and remained still in comfort, purring generously as it forgave his treasonous mention of ‘a cat outside’. Dongjing looked jealous, propped its front paws on the sofa, and let out a rough meow. Qin Mu lifted it onto the sofa too and stroked it a few times. The two cats rested heavily and warmly on his chest, as if pushing away all the emptiness in the room.

       The next morning, Qin Mu rushed to the law firm to meet a client. He had been busy with pro bono cases recently, and Zhou Yi had threatened him that if he didn’t start making money, the firm would go bankrupt, and his phone number would be plastered all over the city on ads offering large sums for surrogacy. Qin Mu obeyed and ‘returned to proper work’. As soon as he came back, he landed a major cross-border corporate merger case, and the entire office had been spinning like tops ever since.

       Towards evening, he was buried in contract documents, working overtime, when he received a call from Chu Yu.

       “I thought I should let you know,” Chu Yu said directly. “Shen Liu is in the hospital.”

       Qin Mu’s heart tightened. He blurted, “What happened?”

       “Nothing too serious, don’t panic,” Chu Yu said. “He started running a fever last night. He forced his way through the day, but the fever never came down, so we just dragged him to the hospital. The doctor said it’s a viral infection with some signs of pneumonia. He needs rest. He came in such a hurry this time that he didn’t bring anyone with him, so I admitted him for now—it’s easier to take care of him.”

       Qin Mu was silent for a moment before asking, “Why did he come to K City?”

       “As far as I know,” Chu Yu said, “Shen Liu voluntarily resigned from his position as the group’s vice president during an internal Shen family meeting, which means he handed over real power. At the moment, he’s basically a wealthy idler, with only a few unfinished projects left in his hands. As for why he came to K City, I think you know very well.”

       Qin Mu was taken aback. His brows knitted tightly as he asked anxiously, “Is he insane, giving up power at a time like this?”

       He had been worried since the great war between Shen and Zhao. The Old Man Shen would never tolerate an heir who might lose control at any time. Even if he hadn’t acted back then for the sake of the family’s interest, he would inevitably settle scores later and suppress Shen Liu. Qin Mu knew that if he stayed, he would only be a burden, so once he received permission to leave, he did. He had believed that with Shen Liu’s abilities, he would stabilise the situation and hold his position firmly. Yet, he never expected that man to hand over his power so easily.

       “There was no need to worry about that,” Chu Yu said slowly. “On the surface, it looked as if Shen Liu had lost real power, but in truth, all the key positions in the corporation were held by his people, including the newly promoted vice president, Shen Rong. He had already laid out the entire arrangement before leaving. The Shen family’s lifeline remained under his control. If he wanted it, he could take everything back at any time; if he did not want it, no one would dare touch him lightly.” He paused. “Besides, he has me behind him.” These words were steady and forceful, carrying a kind of strength that settled the heart.

       Qin Mu stood before the floor-to-ceiling window and let out a faint breath. The thousands of city lights reflected in his eyes like scattered stars. He suddenly remembered that moment back in J City—the two of them sitting side by side in the back seat of the car. While he had rambled on with all those admonitions, what expression had Shen Liu worn then?

       Restraint, helplessness, bitterness, relief, and a hint of guilt.

       That man had never truly submitted to money, nor had he ever truly coveted power. He was like a lone traveller walking through the depths of night with a sword at his side, willing to stain his hands with blood and move mountains for a belief he could not speak aloud. Even if thousands looked up to him, he remained utterly alone.

       Only now did he truly understand him.

       “The message has been delivered. I’ve sent you the hospital address and his bed number. Whether you go or not is up to you,” Chu Yu said. After a short pause, he added, “You tied him up a bit too hard yesterday. It took him half a day to stand.”

       After hanging up, Qin Mu paced back and forth in front of the window with a stern face. The curious interns poked their heads around the doorway of his office, whispering among themselves.

       “I told you this case was tough. Look, even Lawyer Qin is getting anxious.”

       “Could it be that there’s something wrong with the opinion letter I submitted? I’m doomed. I’m going to get scolded.”

       “Lawyer Qin never scolds anyone, but every time I stand in front of him my legs turn to jelly. I don’t even know why—I just get nervous.”

       “My legs turn to jelly too when I see him. He looks so good in a suit, especially with those long legs…”

       “Aiya, look at you, acting like a lovestruck fool.”

       “No, really, I love Lawyer Qin’s whole cold and ascetic vibe. Especially when he looks at me from behind his glasses—my heartbeat shoots up to two hundred and eighty.”

       “You’re brave. I don’t even dare look him in the eyes. I would blush.”

       Just as their discussion was heating up, Qin Mu pushed the door open and stepped out. The room went silent at once. Qin Mu swept his gaze across the group with a solemn expression, and everyone swallowed nervously in unison.

       “Go clean up and get off work,” the icy Lawyer Qin said before striding out with his long legs. The others exhaled in relief and hurried to gather their things and go home.

       Chu Yu had arranged for Shen Liu to stay at Golden Eagle’s private hospital, in the largest single room—it was easy to find. When Qin Mu walked in, Shen Liu was leaning weakly against the bed, coughing. He froze for a moment upon seeing him, then couldn’t help coughing again as he rasped, “Why did you come?”

       Qin Mu set down the fruit basket and a paper bag on the bedside table, keeping a stern face. “You resorted to a bitter-meat ploy. I should at least show up to support your performance.”

       Shen Liu gave a small laugh and leaned back against the pillow with little strength, covering his mouth as he coughed. “Go back. It’s contagious.”

       Qin Mu glanced at him once, then turned and left.

       Seeing that he had actually left, Shen Liu felt his heart go hollow. He stared at the doorway in desolation—only for the man to push it open again moments later.

       Qin Mu was wearing a mask he had gotten from the nurse. He took a seat in the chair by the bed, as proper as when he was presenting an argument in court. “Last night I misunderstood you. Some of it was due to my own assumptions, and some of it was caused by your intentional concealment and inaction. I thought it over—let’s call it even. Do you agree?”

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       Shen Liu’s gaze shifted slightly, and a few seconds later, he stood up.

       He took off his clothes very quickly. He placed his shoes and socks neatly beside the sofa, unfastened his belt, and pulled down the zipper. His movements were smooth and efficient, without the slightest hesitation, as if he did not mind exposing his body to others. In fact, his physique was indeed impressive with tight, evenly proportioned muscles and a beautiful Adonis belt that disappeared beneath his jeans, stirring the imagination. When he reached for the waistband button, he heard Qin Mu’s voice.

       “Leave the pants.”

       The corners of Shen Liu’s lips lifted almost imperceptibly. He fastened the button back into its hole, then walked toward Qin Mu while casting a faint sideways glance at Chu Yu.

       Chu Yu understood and said, “The performance is about to begin. Let’s go sit near the stage.”

       Xu Ye was still immersed in gossiping, having already imagined a full tragic romance between ‘the pharaoh and his favoured concubine’. He was waiting to see what would happen next and muttered reluctantly, “There aren’t any high-level performers today. Nothing worth watching.”

       “If you’re not interested, we can always go play in one of the rooms upstairs for a while,” Chu Yu offered instead.

       Sensing danger, Xu Ye shuddered and instantly yanked Zhuo Yue up as if his seat were on fire. “I’ll go, I’ll go, let’s go. I just remembered something I need to talk to you about.” He took the lead, the others exchanging knowing smiles as they followed him out.

       The circular sofa area was left with only two people.

       Facing Qin Mu, Shen Liu slowly sank to his knees. He first lowered one knee, then both, his posture as solemn as if he were worshipping a deity. His body descended, his gaze shifting from level to upturned, and the infatuation in his eyes grew heavier and heavier. It was as if all disguise, all concealment, and all clothing had been shed together, leaving nothing but bare desire, direct, unrestrained, and burning hot. He was clearly in the submissive one, yet he radiated possessiveness, like a fierce animal crouched in tall grass, baring the most primal wildness toward its prey.

       “Master,” he said. His deep voice made the title even more seductive, like a teasing feather brushing across the heart, sending ripples through it.

       Qin Mu sat motionless, his gaze resting on the hollow between Shen Liu’s collarbones—a silver ring hanging from a red cord, glinting under the light. His expression was calm, his tone equally calm, as he asked with routine detachment, “Anything you can’t accept?”

       “With you, nothing,” Shen Liu answered without hesitation.

       Qin Mu looked at him for two seconds, then raised his hand and pressed the red call button beside the seating area. A server hurried over and asked, “Pharaoh, what do you need?”

       “Bring me rope number 4 from the second shelf of the cabinet in my room, and arrange the performance stage for me tonight.” Qin Mu handed him the black keycard.

       “Certainly, sir.” The server checked the program schedule and asked, “The first performance is ready to go on stage. Is it acceptable to place you second?”

       “That’s fine.”

       “We’ll prepare it immediately,” the server said, stepping away with professional composure.

       This meant it would be a public play. Tonight likely would likely not going to go easily.

       But Shen Liu did not care. Before coming, he had already braced himself mentally. Whatever Qin Mu chose to do to him did not matter. Humans, as social creatures, always imposed certain standards and boundaries in their interactions, yet Qin Mu was the one person for whom he had no standards at all. Shen Liu did not kneel to anyone, did not call anyone ‘Master’, and would never accept being trained or played with in public. But as long as it was Qin Mu, every boundary could shift. Even if the thing in Qin Mu’s hand were not a whip but a knife, Shen Liu would let him drive it straight into his heart without flinching or dodging.

       To submit was simply to offer up both body and heart, no longer belonging to oneself.

       “Slave.” Qin Mu took a sip of his drink and tilted the glass in his hand. “I need a table.”

       It seemed the waiting period before going onstage would not be dull. Shen Liu lowered his gaze. “Yes, Master.” He moved to the man’s side, leaned forward, and braced himself on his arms, keeping his back as flat as possible.

       Objectifying the submissive as a tool was part of the play, a way to more easily evoke the satisfaction of being ‘needed’ and the sense of being ‘possessed’. Qin Mu casually set his glass on the dip of Shen Liu’s spine between his shoulder blades and said concisely, “If it falls, ten lashes.”

       “Yes, Master,” Shen Liu replied.

       It was a crystal wine glass with a large bowl but a narrow base. Even a slight unevenness could throw off its balance. A human body was not a real table; it had natural curves and reflexive reactions. Shen Liu slowed his breathing, tensed his muscles, and tried to maintain as much stability as he could.

       But Qin Mu had no intention of letting him off that easily. He removed the leash from the collar Lu Cheng had worn earlier and hooked it directly onto the red cord at the back of Shen Liu’s neck. The leash pulled tight along his spine, slid down along his cleft, wrapped once around the root of his right thigh, and was tied off in a knot. The tightened red cord dragged the ring against his throat, forcing Shen Liu to tilt his head back. The reversed curve of his neck made the ‘tabletop’ unstable, and the leash’s movement nudged the glass stem, setting the bowl trembling. Shen Liu stiffened his back, doing everything he could to steady it.

       “If it breaks, the game ends,” Qin Mu’s cold voice drifted from above.

       Shen Liu’s gaze trembled.

       He understood very clearly that Qin Mu was referring to the red cord around his neck that held the ring. The cord was thin, and even the slightest force would snap it. And once it broke, the ring would fall away from his body.

       People were always good at using certain objects to express emotion, tucking their true feelings inside in subtle, implicit ways. In this moment, the ring and the red cord were no longer just themselves; they had been given meanings unspoken yet mutually understood. Qin Mu knew exactly why Shen Liu had come, and he had given an equally clear reply—this is my territory, and you must obey my rules, or nothing else will be discussed.

       His body was bound, his throat was restricted, and no movement was allowed. Obedience alone was the only truth. Shen Liu closed his eyes briefly and answered, “Yes, Master.”

       Time moved forward at an unhurried pace. Twenty minutes passed, and he still maintained the same motionless posture. His back, shoulders, and neck had gone stiff, and his breathing grew increasingly laboured.

       As the first performance was about to end, a server came over to notify Qin Mu to get ready. When the restraints were finally released, it felt as if his heart had settled safely back into his chest along with the ring. Shen Liu drew a deep breath and returned to a kneeling posture.

       “Does it hurt?” Qin Mu asked.

       “As long as it pleases you, everything is a reward to me.” A standard answer.

       Qin Mu’s lips curved faintly, neither acknowledging nor dismissing it. He raised his hand and tilted the wine glass slightly above Shen Liu’s head, saying, “Finish it.”

       The angle was awkward; kneeling, he could only reach the rim of the glass by stretching his neck and lifting his face. Shen Liu drank the remaining wine from this position, then licked his lips and said, “Thank you, Master.”

       Qin Mu set the glass aside, tugged lightly on the leash, and said, “Stand up. Follow me.”

       A pair of Master and slave who looked as striking as they did naturally drew attention. The stage lights cast a cool silver sheen over Qin Mu, adding to the quiet, sharp aura in his every movement. He unhooked the leash and commanded, “See that circular area? Go kneel over there.”

       “Yes, Master.” Shen Liu obeyed without question.

       After checking the rope bindings, Qin Mu pressed a button on a remote. The circular area began to rise slowly, lifting Shen Liu to an appropriate height. It turned out to be an adjustable display platform. Four cameras pointed at the two of them from different angles, projecting every detail onto the electronic screens.

       The Pharaoh was a major figure in the scene, and opportunities to see his performances were rare. This time, he had brought an unfamiliar new sub onto the stage, drawing even more curiosity. The seats beside the stage were packed. In the front row, Fang Mingyan let out a provocative whistle, eager for chaos.

       Qin Mu’s performance contained no unnecessary theatrics. He worked while explaining key points, like a guest professor, maintaining his usual precise and ascetic style.

       Tonight, he used a full-body rope bondage known as ‘bundled binding’. He first crossed Shen Liu’s wrists behind his head and tied them together, then secured the wrists to the upper arms to complete the lock. “This ‘hands-behind’ tie forces the slave to keep the chest open, with the elbows raised and unable to straighten,” he said, looping the rope around Shen Liu’s neck, crossing it over his chest, and winding it around his bare torso in a beautiful ‘tortoise armour bondage’ pattern. He deliberately tied two flat knots pressing over the nipples and said, “Knots placed on sensitive spots allow the slave to feel more stimulation, similar to friction or caressing.” Finally, he instructed Shen Liu to sit back on his heels, knees spread as wide as they would go, then used a rope passing beneath the crotch to bind his thighs and ankles.

       Qin Mu’s handling of the rope was exceptionally clean, with almost no superfluous movements, and the final result was beautiful. In his hands, the rope seemed to transform into something alive; every knot, every crossing, every line of tension moved according to his will. Shen Liu’s striking body became his canvas, and the red rope bondage became curved strokes painting a scene both cruelly violent and stunningly erotic.

       “Do your legs hurt?” Qin Mu adjusted the ropes’ tension again, his expression focused and meticulous.

       “They don’t hurt, Master,” Shen Liu replied. Maintaining such an unnatural posture for so long had left a thin layer of sweat on his back. The slightly long ends of his hair fell forward and covered his eyes, and his gaze looked even deeper beneath the shifting play of light and shadow.

       Performing in front of an audience tests not only skill, but also a Dom’s control over their sub. The more spectators there were, the easier it was for a sub to be distracted and drift away from the proper emotional state. Qin Mu’s steady stage presence was well known. What surprised people was that this newcomer sub, Sphinx, also behaved with remarkable composure, completely unaffected by outside influences. Throughout the entire tying process, he remained quiet and obedient, with excellent endurance.

       From a technical standpoint, this was a textbook-level bondage demonstration, impressive in every way. Yet it lacked emotional interaction. Sphinx’s gaze had followed the Pharaoh the entire time, but the Pharaoh never once gave him a response.

       Qin Mu finished the full binding and lowered the display platform until it was level with the stage. He examined his work at close distance and said slowly, “This type of full-body tie creates a strong sense of restraint and pain. Aside from the head, the slave can barely move at all, so it’s not suitable for long-term use. The interlacing rope strands affect one another; even a slight movement will pull on various parts of the body, tightening the throat and creating friction on the nipples and crotch. It can allow slaves who enjoy bondage to feel pleasure, like this…” As he spoke, he hooked a finger around the rope looped at Shen Liu’s neck and pulled lightly.

       The sudden tug caused all the ropes on his body to tighten at once. The knots at a few key points scr4p3d hard across sensitive areas, making Shen Liu shudder uncontrollably. A mix of numbness and itchiness blended with pain. He shifted, unable to endure it, attempting to adjust his posture.

       “Did I give you permission to move?” Qin Mu asked without expression.

       “Master, I was wrong.” Shen Liu knew how to bend and yield.

       Qin Mu pinched his jaw and lifted it, forcing his head back in a punitive arc. This movement bent Shen Liu’s arms, which were tied behind his head to their extreme limit. The stretched muscles pulled so tight that even the bones hurt. He started to gasp sharply, broken sounds spilling from his throat.

       “Does it feel good to be controlled?” Qin Mu looked at him through his lenses.

       Shen Liu’s arms and legs were already going numb. He forced himself to answer with difficulty, “As long as the one controlling me is you, I’m willing to offer everything with both hands.”

       “Your hands are already tied,” Qin Mu said, letting go of his jaw, unhurried. “Controlling someone really is addictive, especially when you watch them obey helplessly in your hands. It’s amusing, isn’t it?” As the last word fell, the hand that controlled everything slid to Shen Liu’s chest. Qin Mu picked out a rope and gently hooked it, as if flirting.

       Shen Liu’s whole body went rigid. He could clearly feel exactly where that rope led. Flustered, he said, “Master, I was wrong…”

       Last-minute apologies usually didn’t work. Even though Shen Liu wore jeans, Qin Mu still had ways to make him keenly feel the pressure and friction on his genitals deeply. The rope tugged again and again, like a web woven of numbness and pain wrapping around his entire body. The pleasure that appeared at some unknown moment tormented him until he was overwhelmed and falling apart. At first, it felt like tiny electric currents, pricking and wandering everywhere. Then it turned into little mice scurrying through him, occasionally leaping up to bite hard at a sensitive spot, making his body tremble uncontrollably from the stimulation. His nipples were already hard, scr4p3d raw by the rope, and something was beginning to stir between his legs. Shen Liu tensed, breathing unevenly and shallowly. A mist of tears gathered in his eyes as he begged, “Master, please…”

       The man who was usually lofty, forceful, and ruthless now showed rare vulnerability and submission—an extreme, contradictory kind of sensuality.

       “Your eyes look much prettier now.” Qin Mu used a finger to lift the hair from his forehead, his gaze half-lowered as he looked down at him. “Take a guess. Have you pleased me? Do I desire you? Or, rather, does training you give me pleasure?”

       Heaven always came full circle; no one escaped retribution. The three questions he had once used to crush Lu Cheng returned to confront him now. Shen Liu gave a bitter smile in his heart, his chest rising and falling as he answered in broken breaths, “As long as Master…give me a chance to take the initiative… I can do my best to give you pleasure.”

       A faint, mocking smile tugged at Qin Mu’s lips. He cupped the back of Shen Liu’s head with one hand and leaned in. Slowly, closer and closer. The movement made the bound man tense instantly, nerves stretched tight, his heart pounding wildly.

       “You thought I would kiss you?” Qin Mu stopped just a hair’s breadth before touching his cheek. His deliberately softened voice brushed his ear like a warm, blurred mist. “Sphinx, I don’t like people who assume too much. If you want to be my cat, you should at least learn to behave first.”

Author’s Note:
Sphinx: besides being a mythical creature, it is also a breed of cat — yes, the hairless kind.

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        Qin Mu had never taken the initiative to bring up Shen Liu. That youthful relationship was, to him, like a long-festering injury that had damaged tendon and bone—an old illness that still ached faintly to this day. These friends had known one another for many years and understood each other’s boundaries; since he did not wish to speak of it, they did not ask. They only vaguely knew that ‘he once had a lover, and later they broke up’.

        The only one who likely understood the truth was Chu Yu. And even he had not heard it from Qin Mu, but had sensed it from the other end instead. As the most powerful local figure in K City, nothing that happened on this land could escape his notice; even if Shen Liu acted from afar, it would have been impossible to evade his ears and eyes.

        Why would Shen Liu, one of the most influential and ruthless among the younger generation of the illustrious Shen family, repeatedly cast his gaze on a completely ordinary lawyer living thousands of miles away?

        A simple inquiry would reveal the connection between the two.

        Chu Yu saw through it but did not expose it. He did not hinder Shen Liu in any way, tacitly permitting everything he did in K City. He was a smart man who knew how to assess the situation and who understood the importance of preparing for the future. Since the Old Master Chu’s generation, the Chu family had ridden on the coattails of the Shi family. The Shi family once wielded dazzling power, but internal strife among its heirs led to a decline in its strength, and its influence had fallen to the bottom among the Four Great Families, leaving it with no choice but to cling to the Zhao family.

        By quietly extending Shen Liu some courtesy, Chu Yu established a connection with the Shen family. And later, during the fierce political battle between the Shen and Zhao factions, he seized the moment and joined forces with the Shi family’s widow, Shen Jiahe, to fully push the Shi family into defecting. Facts proved that he had chosen correctly. Today, Golden Eagle Group has already become one of the Shen family’s footholds in Jiangnan—its position secure and its influence unparalleled.

        Now that the overall situation was settled, Shen Liu was finally free to step away, and the first thing he did was fly to K City. Chu Yu could guess his purpose and brought him directly to the East Coast.

        The few people present all scrutinised the newcomer with curious eyes. Everyone knew that the East Coast had extremely strict standards for admitting members, requiring multiple layers of review and final approval by collective signatures from upper management. Only a few veteran investors had the authority to grant direct admission. Back then, in order to sneak Zhuo Yue in without Fang Mingyan noticing, Xu Ye had pestered Chu Yu for ages.

        Yet this Mr. Shen had been personally brought here by Chu Yu and taken straight to meet them. Combined with the Chu family’s recent moves and that sensitive surname, Fang Mingyan and Xu Ye could more or less guess something.

        Others in the hall were also glancing over. Even putting aside his background, Shen Liu himself was striking enough. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs, and matched with that face—he could easily stir desire in a place as hedonistic as this. Gazes drifted toward him from all directions, sticking lightly to his body. People speculated about his identity while imagining what he would look like once he stepped into the role—someone like him, whether holding a riding crop or kneeling naked on the ground, seemed delicious either way.

        Shen Liu ignored all those desire-filled looks, greeting them calmly with a composed smile. “Hello, everyone.”

        After they sat down, Chu Yu introduced him one by one. When he reached Qin Mu, he paused. “I suppose there’s no need for me to say more about this one.”

        Shen Liu curved his lips. “Lawyer Qin, long time no see.” After a slight pause, he added, “Should I be calling you—Mr. Pharaoh—while we’re here?”

        Qin Mu had already recovered from his earlier shock, regaining his mountain-like stillness.

        This scene was painfully familiar. The person he had thought he would never see again was now standing right before him. The thread he believed had long been severed was suddenly tied together once more. What could not be cut cleanly only tangled further; what could not be explained only grew messier; what he could not escape was once again inescapable.

        Truly, a fated misfortune.

        He gave a silent, bitter laugh in his heart.

        This was a public setting, with friends beside him; he could not abruptly get up and walk away. No doubt Shen Liu had calculated that, which was why he chose to appear in this manner.

        The few seconds their gazes met felt like a silent, hidden confrontation. Qin Mu kept the accusation in his heart, ‘You promised with your own mouth that we would never meet again, so why break your word now?’, and answered with restrained distance, “It’s just a form of address, nothing more. It doesn’t matter.”

        Shen Liu swept his eyes toward the man kneeling at Qin Mu’s feet and asked, “And this is?”

        “My slave.” The reply was concise, to the point of sounding stiff, and carried a defensive posture.

        “Well-trained.” Shen Liu praised with a smile, all gentle harmlessness on the surface.

        “You flatter me.”

        One probed, the other defended. In that brief exchange, an undercurrent of subtle tension rippled. Everyone present was astute enough to catch the unusual details. Xu Ye, unable to hold back his curiosity, shot Chu Yu a questioning look and received a faint, knowing smile in return.

        *Tsk, these two are definitely up to something.

        Xu Ye’s eyes lit up as he arched his brows at Zhuo Yue. Zhuo Yue received the signal and, without batting an eye, lightly scratched at Fang Mingyan’s palm. Fang Mingyan curled his lips and threw a look at Xia Ran. Xia Ran nudged Sima Jun beside him with his leg.

        A silent spark of gossip quietly ignited and spread through the entire seating area, and everyone sat there with great interest, ready to watch the situation unfold.

        It was understandable that they were curious; after all, it wasn’t every day that there was something to gossip about when it came to Qin Mu.

        After all these years of circling around, the few of them had all paired off, leaving only this ‘Pharaoh’ to move through the world alone. He didn’t enjoy socialising; most of the people around him were work colleagues. Though he was in the scene, he rarely took subs, and the few he interacted with for longer never developed into anything emotional.

        When Fang Mingyan introduced Lu Cheng to him, he originally thought Lu Cheng’s persistence might eventually win him over, but Qin Mu treated him entirely like a client—aside from their routine, clockwork Friday sessions, where Qin Mu provided the scheduled service and sharpened his technical skills in the process, they had no private contact at all.

        Fang Mingyan joked that Qin Mu was like a Bodhisattva untouched by mortal desire, and only a fox spirit who had cultivated for a thousand years might be able to enchant him.

        As for this Mr. Shen in front of them… his looks were close enough to that description, but no one knew how deep his cultivation ran, or whether he could actually charm this block of ice.

        “You two know each other?” Xu Ye, who always loved to be on the front lines of eating melon¹to gossip, asked eagerly.

        “We’ve known each other for a long time,” Shen Liu answered.

        “Then…”

        A sudden series of electronic chimes cut off Xu Ye’s questioning.

        East Coast had just been renovated last year, and four large electronic screens had been installed at the central ceiling of the main hall, each facing a different direction. They were used to display member information and provide multi-angle live streams of stage performances and classes.

        At this moment, all four screens simultaneously flashed the routine welcome animation for new members—at the centre of an interwoven rope-knot appeared several conspicuous characters:

        [Welcome, new member ‘Sphinx.’]

        Sphinx, the monster of ancient Egyptian mythology. Its most famous image was the Great Sphinx beside the Pyramid of Khafre—ancient, origins obscure, weather-worn and broken, yet still standing. It was said to be the Pharaoh’s guardian, protecting his slumbering soul for lifetime after lifetime.

        Others might not understand the specific meaning behind this name, but the people on the sofa certainly did. They all revealed expressions full of layered meaning.

        Qin Mu sat calmly. From the moment he saw Shen Liu, he knew this man would definitely create trouble, so he had been mentally prepared and wasn’t particularly surprised.

        After the welcome words came the newcomer’s profile display; the East Coast had plenty of oddballs, but this Sphinx managed to stand out with a style entirely his own. He had chosen sub as his role, yet every single field was marked ‘Not accepted’. Only the final remarks section contained one line: ‘If the other party is Mr. Pharaoh, all above conditions may be changed.’

        The connection in their names could still be loosely explained as a coincidence, but this profile was blatantly announcing to everyone exactly who he had come for—so high-profile it was practically outrageous.

        Unrequited crushes from subs toward doms were common in the club, but no one ever went this far. This was the equivalent of placing oneself at the edge of a cliff with no retreat. If he were rejected, it would be nearly impossible to find another dom. Competent doms were already scarce, and they often possessed strong personalities and possessiveness; almost none would choose a sub who openly has someone else in their heart.

        A wave of murmurs swept through the hall. The members’ gazes toward them now carried traces of sympathy. Everyone in the scene knew that Pharaoh was not someone who could be won over with mere affection and courage. They all sat back, ready to watch this reckless newcomer crash into a wall and end up covered in metaphorical bruises.

        Shen Liu didn’t care what anyone thought. Neither did Qin Mu. At this moment, the VIP section felt like the eye of a storm amid the howling winds and rain—unnaturally calm. The two men at the centre of the commotion sat facing each other, their gazes locking across the space.

        After a moment of silence, Qin Mu spoke. “You saw it. I have a sub.”

        Shen Liu replied unhurriedly, “That isn’t important.”

        Lu Cheng’s eyelid twitched. His fists tightened.

        From the moment he learned Shen Liu had come specifically for Qin Mu, a suffocating sense of threat had pressed down on him. And this near-dismissive attitude completely infuriated him. He couldn’t stop himself from turning toward Shen Liu and glaring sharply, “What do you mean by that?”

        When acting in the role of a slave, speaking to others without the master’s permission was an extremely low-level mistake. Qin Mu frowned slightly and tapped the sofa armrest with a bent finger in warning. Realising he had fallen into a trap, Lu Cheng felt both angry and ashamed. His face flushed red as he acknowledged his mistake, “I was wrong, Master.”

        Shen Liu smiled with an effortlessly composed expression and added insult to the injury, “At least when it comes to following rules, I think I can do better than him.”

        “I have no intention of taking on another sub for the time being,” Qin Mu rejected.

        “Does he satisfy you?” Shen Liu asked.

        The bluntness of the question caught Qin Mu off guard. He froze for a moment.

        “Do you desire him?” Shen Liu looked deeply at him, unblinking. “Or rather—do you feel any pleasure when you train him?”

        This was an intensely private matter. Outsiders didn’t know, but Lu Cheng knew very well. His expression turned extremely ugly as he clenched his teeth. The onlookers hadn’t expected Shen Liu to drop such a bomb suddenly, and the atmosphere instantly grew awkward. But it was too late to leave now, and it wasn’t the right time to interrupt, so they had no choice but to sit still, eyes lowered, pretending to contemplate their noses and hearts.

        “These things have nothing to do with you,” Qin Mu replied calmly. “You asked to establish a relationship with me, and I have clearly refused. That is enough.”

        He really wasn’t giving him a chance.

        Even though Shen Liu had expected this outcome, he still felt a faint ache in his chest. He let out a helpless laugh. “All right.”

        Just then, a staff member hurried over and handed Lu Cheng a black envelope. To protect the venue’s privacy, phones and other electronic devices were not allowed inside the club. If there were an urgent matter, the front desk would send a server in with a message.

        After reading it, Lu Cheng’s brows tightened. He leaned toward Qin Mu and whispered, “Master, something happened at home. I must go back right now.”

        Qin Mu nodded and unfastened the collar around his neck. Lu Cheng stood up quickly, shot Shen Liu a fierce glare, and strode away. Shen Liu gave a small amused curl of his lips, but the moment his peripheral vision caught Qin Mu’s gaze, his heartbeat instantly faltered.

        Qin Mu’s gaze was cold, as if frozen.

        He had misunderstood.

        He thought Shen Liu had done something to Lu Cheng, forcing him to leave.

        Shen Liu opened his mouth to explain that the matter had nothing to do with him, but swallowed the words again. The timing was far too coincidental; even he wouldn’t believe it if the situation were reversed. And besides, he had a long list of similar incidents in his past—he was practically a repeat offender. Qin Mu’s misunderstanding of him wasn’t entirely unjust.

        Shen Liu sighed silently in his heart and simply looked at him without a word.

        “Since you’re so eager to be my sub, I’ll indulge you once.” Qin Mu toyed with the collar in his hand, his voice low and cool. “Take off your clothes and come kneel.”

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On the night of December 31, 2019,

A group chat named ‘East Coast Council’ lit up.

Ye-ge: Friends, it’s the last day of 2019. What are you all doing?

Outstanding Original Joy: On set. I’m miserable, shooting a major night scene tonight. (crying face¹😭)

Ye-ge: Where’s Lion?

Lion Doesn’t Eat People: On set. Filming a long night shoot with him.

Ye-ge: Great, I shouldn’t have asked. Can the two of you stop stuffing dog food²public displays of affection into my face everywhere, all the time?

Lion Doesn’t Eat People: What, Chu Yu isn’t around?

Ye-ge: Mm. He’s in a meeting, hasn’t come back yet.

Lion Doesn’t Eat People: He might be out fooling around. Just go to sleep. Tomorrow isn’t only a new day—it’s a new year. Let what’s past stay in the past.

Ye-ge: [Kicking an egg img³] Get lost.

Cat Catching Mouse: Hahahahaha, I think so too. Someone who isn’t even with you on New Year’s really ought to be dumped. Xu Ye, I’ll introduce you to someone new.

Mouse Teasing Cat: There was a fitness coach the other day who was pretty good—great body. Why don’t you come over to our place now? We’re playing at the club.

Ye-ge: Not going. [kicks over your dog food img⁴]

The Log Has Become a Boat: Need a divorce lawyer?

Ye-ge: …Qin Mu, you’re joining in too.

The Log Has Become a Boat: Making money is important.

Ye-ge: [Old man on the subway looking at his phone img⁵]

Lion Doesn’t Eat People: [Ate my melon and forgot that guy img⁶]

Ye-ge: [You dare fight meme with me? you’re tired of living img⁷]

Cat Catching Mouse: [Lonely night, lonely you img⁸]

Ye-ge: [If you keep bullying me I’m going to cry img⁹]

Outstanding Original Joy: How long is his meeting supposed to last?

Ye-ge: Who knows. I’m pissed. I’ll kick him straight out later.

Yu: ?

Ye-ge: …

Lion Doesn’t Eat People: Hahaha.

Cat Catching Mouse: Hahaha.

Mouse Teasing Cat: Hahaha.

Outstanding Original Joy: [Brother, take care img¹⁰]

The Log Has Become a Boat: Xu Ye, domestic violence is illegal. Remember to gather evidence. I can make sure he leaves with nothing.

System message — Group owner Yu invited [Water Carries the Boat] to join the group chat.

Water Carries the Boat: Thanks.

Lion Doesn’t Eat People: Yo, who’s this?

Cat Catching Mouse: Judging by the name, someone we know.

Mouse Catching Cat: Exactly.

Water Carries the Boat: Be good, Log. Open the door. I’m outside—let gege come in.

Ye-ge: Puhahaha, here we go, the husband-chaser has arrived.

The Log Has Become a Boat: Get lost.

Water Carries the Boat: [crying img¹¹]

Water Carries the Boat: [want a hug img¹²]

Water Carries the Boat: [if you ignore me I’ll pout img¹³]

Two minutes passed.

Water Carries the Boat: I’m inside now. Wishing everyone a happy 2020 together with Wood.

Mouse Teasing Cat: Happy New Year.

Cat Catching Mouse: Happy New Year.

Lion Doesn’t Eat People: Happy New Year.

Outstanding Original Joy: Happy New Year.

Yu: Happy New Year.

Ye-ge: …If you’re that busy, don’t bother coming back today.

Yu: On the way.

Ye-ge: [I’m about to die so I’m out img¹⁴]

Ye-ge: Almost forgot—Happy New Year.

Qingcheng and all colleagues of East Coast wished everyone a happy 2020!

In the new year, he would try his best.

T/N:
Truth to be told for this chapter it took me a very long time because I was debating just to show the meme or let it be in words
But I thought it won’t be fun if there’s no meme, so I took some time to do it despite being a short and uneventful chapter lol
As you all know
Ye ge = Xu Ye (MC in Surrender 1)
Yu = Chu Yu (ML in Surrender 1)
Outstanding Original Joy(Zhuo Ye Ben Ye) = Zhuo Ye (MC in Surrender 2)
Lion Doesn’t Eat People = Lion (ML in Surrender 2)
Cat Catching Mouse = Tom
Mouse Teasing Cat = Jerry
The Log Has Become a Boat = Qin Mu (MC in Surrender 4)
Water Carries the Boat = Shen Liu (ML in Surrender 4)

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       Zhou Yi drove over to pick up Qin Mu and went straight from the airport to the cemetery.

       In the still black-and-white photograph, the old man smiled gently and kindly. The tombstone was piled high with fresh flowers and fruit. During the waves of exposure surrounding the Baolijian case, the media had reported on this humble lawyer who had always fought for the victims’ rights. This old man, who had lived his life quietly, changing the fate of so many people without ever seeking attention, had finally appeared before the public in this way. His integrity, persistence, chivalry, and tender heart were praised, respected, and remembered by the people.

       Qin Mu stood before the grave for a long time. Zhou Yi saw that he had lost quite a bit of weight and feared he would catch a chill from the cold wind, so he found an excuse of ‘visiting their Teacher’s wife’ and pulled him away.

       They went to the supermarket to buy some fruit and vegetables to take there, and then sat down to chat with her. Madam Xiao had recovered from the blow and was in fairly good spirits. She had hired a caretaker auntie who was excellent at cooking and insisted on having them stay for lunch.

       In the afternoon, Qin Mu went to the law firm, but he didn’t receive any clients. Instead, he simply organised his current work. He had his legal assistant contact the legal aid centre, proactively requesting a case involving a left-behind girl who had been sexually assaulted, and spent a considerable amount of time studying it.

       By the time he went home, it was already dark. Beiwei and Dongjing, who hadn’t seen him in a long while, stayed at a distance at first, watching him warily. After staring for quite a while, Beiwei recognised him first. Beiwei walked over with its cat’s light steps, rubbed its head against his leg, and gave a gentle meow. Qin Mu picked it up and petted it.

       Dongjing watched coldly for a moment, then let out a reluctant ‘meow’. Its voice was deep and resonant; after meowing, it seemed to feel embarrassed, lazily rolling over and turning its plump backside toward him. Qin Mu laughed and stroked its back a few times.

       Small animals always had a magical power, calming and soothing a person from the heart. The mess in his mind was quietly set down. Qin Mu lay on that long-unseen bed and slept his first peaceful sleep in many days.

       Life returned to its proper track, rushing forward, and in the blink of an eye, it was Chinese New Year. The Chinese Lunar New Year was all about lively, joyous family reunions. Qin Aihua called two days in advance, saying Zheng Yan missed him very much, and carefully asked whether he could come home for the New Year. Qin Mu hesitated for a moment, then agreed. On the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, he bought some holiday goods and returned to his parents’ home, which he had not visited in a long time.

       The place was still as it had been. The old stairwell felt like some kind of time-travel passage; every step backwards pulled him back into the dreams he had long since lost. He knocked on the door and sat down amid Qin Aihua and Zheng Yan’s overly enthusiastic welcome, looking at their greying hair and busy figures. Suddenly, he felt out of place—as though he were some foreign intruder disrupting their peaceful life.

       Ever since Qin Mu had left home, the couple’s relationship had actually softened. Zheng Yan had grown plumper over the years; ordinarily, she either knitted sweaters or danced square dance with her old friends. Qin Aihua’s eyesight had deteriorated significantly, so he didn’t dare watch TV too much and often went fishing with Old Wang from next door, getting tanned by the sun. The braised carp on the table was his catch.

       Zheng Yan worked busily in the kitchen while Qin Aihua kept her company, chatting. Most of the time, it was Qin Aihua who talked; Qin Mu responded simply. The atmosphere was neither awkward nor relaxed.

       Zheng Yan brought out the dishes and instructed, “Go take out the liquor and pour some—just sitting there like a fool.”

       Qin Aihua quickly went to fetch it; he opened a bottle of Wuliangye.

       “Since we knew you were coming back, we bought it specially.” Zheng Yan rubbed her hands against her apron, passed him the chopsticks, and said somewhat nervously, “I just made a few simple dishes, not sure if you’ll like them. Try them.”

       Qin Mu took them and thanked her politely. The table was filled with dishes he had loved as a child, though now they no longer looked as enticing as before. He sat quietly, listening to Qin Aihua talk about funny fishing stories. The feeling was both new and strange that the person sitting beside him, drinking with him and chatting casually, was not his business partner, friend, client, or mentor, but his father. In his entire life, he had never had this experience—an equal, almost friendly conversation with his father.

       Because she was happy, Zheng Yan had a few extra drinks. Her face flushed red, and she kept repeating that he should come home often. She said that the old worker dormitory of the electric cable factory was going to be demolished soon; they had drawn lots and gotten a three-bedroom one-living-room resettlement apartment. Renovation would begin next spring, and they would leave him a sunny room.

       She pressed her lips together, holding back for a while, then finally couldn’t hold it in and asked whether Qin Mu had found a partner and whether he could bring them home to meet them sometime.

       After speaking, a hint of unease crept in. She seemed to realise she had crossed a line and hurriedly added that she didn’t mean to meddle. It was just that no matter whether it was a man or a woman, having someone by your side was always a good thing.

       Seeing Qin Mu remain silent, Qin Aihua immediately changed the subject. “Ahem, at his age, his career is just taking off; he’s already too busy with work. Where would he find time to date? You really have no foresight.”

       Zheng Yan stopped pressing the issue and went to the bedroom to take out a red booklet¹saving accounts and handed it to Qin Mu. She said haltingly, “All the money you sent us is in here. From the very first deposit you transferred after you started working, up until the six thousand from last month—I saved it all. I always wanted to return it to you in person someday. Back when you were in university, we didn’t even pay your tuition because we wanted to force you to come back… Thinking about it now, we really wronged you.”

       Her eyes turned slightly red. She sighed and continued, “We both have our pensions, and we’ll get compensation from the demolition too; we have enough to live on. Your expenses are high, you’re taking cases and running a law firm, working day and night. With this money, things might be a little easier for you.” She placed the passbook gently beside him.

       Qin Mu froze when he heard the words, ‘we didn’t even pay your tuition to force you to come back’.

       He recalled the moment Shen Liu had thrown a stack of cash onto the table—how that man had curved his eyes and delivered the lie ‘your parents gave it to you’ so naturally and convincingly that Qin Mu had never doubted it for a moment.

       That swindler had paid his tuition for him.

       Now, Qin Mu understood why Shen Liu had told such a lie. It was to leave a thread connecting him to his parents, giving him the chance to reconcile many years later. And just as that man had predicted, he was indeed sitting here face-to-face with them now.

       A tight, suffocating pressure built in Qin Mu’s chest, swelling but unable to burst. He stood up. “It’s getting late. I still have something to take care of. You should keep the money—I don’t need it.”

       Seeing they couldn’t keep him, Zheng Yan hurried into the kitchen and packed smoked meat, braised snacks, and side dishes, insisting he take them.

       Once the car door closed, Qin Mu let out a breath of relief amid the lingering aroma of food. He really wasn’t good at handling situations like this. The unfamiliar yet suddenly pressing parent-child relationship left him unable to advance or retreat, making him want to flee.

       He looked up from the car toward the third floor. The window was empty. The prison that had trapped him for years now looked like nothing more than an ordinary, painfully ordinary window.

       The older one grew, the more frightening the time became. Its cruelty lay not only in its endless forward march, but in how it blurred the past—like a cheap eraser with no real force. At first, it did nothing, so you paid it no mind. But after countless days of rubbing, the handwriting began to fade, quietly disappearing. By the time you suddenly realised it, only the indented marks remained on the paper.

       The deep hatred of yesteryear had become blurred; the people he once vowed never to forgive no longer seemed all that intolerable.

       Qin Mu didn’t know whether this was good or bad. Perhaps life was simply a path where one kept losing things—the important, the desired, the things you want to remember —until all were forgotten, including the person once buried deep in his heart.

       He returned home, put the various containers of food in the fridge, opened a can of beer, and drank while watching a movie.

       It was an award-winning one, ‘Green Book’, an interesting and thought-provoking movie. People divided themselves into types and hierarchies; race, skin colour, religion, hobbies, gender, and sexual orientation could all become traits to be discriminated against.

       Discrimination itself was like a greedy snake, slithering along, swallowing little squares and making them part of its body, then using them to swallow other squares. Just as those who had once been discriminated against might, after joining the majority and gaining the power of speech, become new perpetrators of discrimination themselves. A cycle repeated endlessly, ceaseless in its regeneration.

       The clock hand quietly touched midnight. Someone, ignoring the prohibition, secretly set off a firework, bursting into a spray of bright and glittering sparks outside the window.

       Beiwei was startled. It jumped off his lap and ran to hide beside Dongjing. Qin Mu’s phone vibrated, flooded with New Year greetings—from his colleagues at the firm, alumni, and even his mentor’s wife.

       The WeChat groups were lively as well—especially the “East Coast Elders Council,” which flashed nonstop. For some reason, Xu Ye and Fang Mingyan were competing with middle-aged tacky emoji packs—one glittering golden rose after another, truly an assault on the eyes.

       Qin Mu was just about to reply when another message popped up.

       Call me gege and I’ll give you candy: Happy New Year.

       He stared at it for a moment, took a screenshot, and tapped ‘Add to Blacklist’.

       After the Spring Festival, the weather gradually warmed. A timely rain knows its season; when spring arrives, life begins to grow. When the Rain Master fell silent and lonely, summer called upon the Thunder God.

       In June, K City was stiflingly hot; thunderstorms rolled in one after another, with a kind of boldness that seemed intent on either striking you dead or drowning you.

       Qin Mu stepped through the rain into East Coast and shook off the water on his umbrella. Ever since he had begun doing pro bono law work, he had been constantly busy. Cases lined up one after another, flights back and forth, barely any free time. Today’s gathering had been arranged by Chu Yu, who said they hadn’t hung out in a long while and should have some fun.

       East Coast was a discreet, high-end BDSM club, members-only, with strict entry requirements and rules. Chu Yu, Fang Mingyan, and Qin Mu were not only the founders and shareholders of the club but also the guardians of the community’s norms.

       They required that all members’ BDSM play adhere to the principles of safety, sanity, informed knowledge, and consent, while offering maximum protection of members’ privacy. Most people here used pseudonyms; for example, Chu Yu was ‘The Earl’, Fang Mingyan was ‘The Lion’, and Qin Mu was ‘The Pharaoh’.

       It wasn’t that he had any special fondness for Egyptian mummies; Fang Mingyan had chosen the name for him, saying that since he worked in law and lived like an old man, the name suited him perfectly. Qin Mu didn’t care what he was called and simply adopted it.

       It was Friday night, and the club had a performance. A Dom on stage demonstrated how to use toys to spark a sub’s desire while forcing them to obey commands and endure their desire.

       Qin Mu walked through the main hall toward the VIP section, chatting a bit with a familiar female Dom along the way. Her female submissive wore sexy lace lingerie, her blue eyes quietly fixed on her mistress, kneeling on all fours without moving.

       “Your slave is very well-behaved,” Qin Mu said.

       “To receive praise from the Pharaoh is no small thing,” she laughed, then noticed the red leash in his hand and blinked. “Looks like you have someone tonight.”

       “Yes.”

       “Then I won’t disturb you.” She made a gesture inviting him to go ahead.

       Qin Mu reached the built-in sofa area; Xu Ye and the others were already there.

       A half-naked man stood near the window, not far away. When he saw Qin Mu, his eyes lit up, and he quickly walked over and kneeled, calling softly, ‘Master’.

       It was Lu Cheng.

       Qin Mu patted his head. “Waited long?”

       “Not long, Master.”

       Qin Mu gently lifted the man’s chin and clipped one end of the leash onto his collar, giving the command, “Stand up. Follow me.”

       “Yes, Master.”

       Lu Cheng’s face was slightly flushed from shame and excitement. He obediently followed Qin Mu into the seating area and knelt by his leg once Qin Mu sat down.

       “Long time no see,” Fang Mingyan said, with Zhuo Yue leaning against him. “What’ve you been busy with lately?”

       “A case involving a left-behind girl who was abused,” Qin Mu answered.

       “I heard you’ve been taking one pro bono case after another?” Xia Ran sat beside Sima Jun, biting into a piece of watermelon as she asked.

       “Mm.”

       “There’s too much injustice in this world,” Xu Ye sighed, then added, “All right, since we’re out to have fun, stop thinking about work. Relax.”

       Qin Mu smiled and told Lu Cheng, “Go open a bottle of wine.”

       Lu Cheng chose a low-alcohol sparkling wine from the table, poured it into a tall glass, and brought it over to Qin Mu. Just then, Chu Yu arrived.

       And there was someone beside him.

       That person was tall, wearing a dark-blue short-sleeve polo shirt and jeans. His slightly long, wavy hair was casually tied back behind his head. The sharpness hidden in his gaze was softened by the faint smile at the corner of his lips, giving him a lazy, unruly air.

       The wine froze at Qin Mu’s lips as he stared at the man approaching step by step.

       There was something almost like sympathy in Chu Yu’s eyes. He cleared his throat lightly and said, “Let me introduce—this is Shen Liu, a new member who just joined.” 

T/N:
I also recommend watching Green Book, it’s a very well-made movie in my opinion (ദ്ദി ๑>؂•̀๑)

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       After that, Shen Liu truly never appeared again. He only had Tao Ze deliver two truckloads of books, spent a whole day forcibly remodelling a room into a home theatre, and brought in a chef who specialised in southern cuisine.

       Qin Mu settled in and became the most unusual guest in Shen Changyun’s small building. The old man did not restrict him; he could do whatever he wanted. Sleeping, cooking, reading, watching movies—no one disturbed him. Qin Mu figured that even if he danced naked on the rooftop, no one would care. Unfortunately, he was long used to self-discipline, and such absolute freedom held no real appeal for him.

       As usual, he got up at seven every day for a morning run, showered, and made breakfast. In the morning, he handled affairs at the law firm, discussed cases, or connected by video call to guide his two apprentices. He took a short nap at noon and spent the afternoon reading books and watching movies. Seeing that there were ink, brushes, paper, and inkstones in the study, he practised calligraphy by copying model scripts. In the evening, he went online for a while, watched a game or played video games, and worked out before bed. He had once asked to go out, but later saw that they needed to prepare a special car and bring along a whole team, as if it were a money transport operation, and he simply gave up on the idea. He didn’t have anywhere he particularly wanted to go anyway—he only wanted to visit a few clients.

       In front of Shen Changyun, Qin Mu fully displayed the qualities of an exemplary hostage: he made no unreasonable demands, acted in no improper way, and was wonderfully low-maintenance. Shen Changyun thought Qin Mu wouldn’t be able to endure such dull days for long, but Qin Mu accepted everything as if it were natural. In truth, this was how he lived before as well—there was nothing he wasn’t used to. This personality even made Shen Changyun feel a particular closeness toward him. Between watching opera and playing with his birds, he often came to see Qin Mu practice calligraphy, occasionally offering a word or two of guidance. Later, when he saw Qin Mu taking an interest in his collection of ink paintings, he would chat with him about art.

       Life inside the small building was calm and peaceful; outside it, the world was turbulent and unpredictable. The political confrontation between the Shen and Zhao families surged back and forth, tugging out a spiderweb of interpersonal connections and forcing everyone in the circle to pick sides. Today, a Zhao-aligned official fell from office; the next day, a Shen-aligned cadre was held accountable. Beneath the gorgeous brocade robe, crawled blood-sucking lice of all sizes—none of them were any cleaner than the others. Of the four great families, the Zhou and Shi families had sided with the Shen family one after another, and the capital forces behind them rolled up their sleeves and joined the fray, fighting fiercely across the fields of resources, finance, real estate, infrastructure, and the internet. With no fig leaf left to cover them, their behaviour was as ugly as it could get. The clashes in the arena of public opinion had also reached a fever pitch; whichever side exposed the slightest flaw would face a tidal wave of relentless attacks. These two enormous families, both standing atop J City, were now like blood-crazed beasts, searching for a chance to land a fatal blow amid their frenzied assault.

       For ordinary people, this was nothing more than lively entertainment. Who lost office, who went bankrupt, who was good, who was bad—none of it was as closely tied to their daily lives as the soaring price of pork. They could not distinguish those distant, unfamiliar names; at most, they used them as after-dinner chatter. They would look at the astronomical figures on the news and sigh, “Wow, they embezzled that much money,” then daydream about what house they would buy, what car they would choose, and where they would travel if they ever got their hands on that kind of money. After the fantasy ended, they still had to return to their grumbling daily lives. The second child they had in response to policy encouragement was growing up; a family of four squeezed into a low-rent apartment was too cramped; gas prices had risen again; traffic was a mess; there was no spare money at home. Maybe travel would have to wait a few more years.

       As the election approached, the battle between the two families grew even more intense. The front lines were ablaze with gunpowder, and underhanded tricks emerged one after another. At the opening ceremony of an event, Shen Lan was nearly crushed flat by a falling chandelier; the next day, Zhao Qiming’s car was blown into scrap metal. The wise interpreted accidents through the lens of accidents; fools understood accidents as mere coincidences. Time dragged the unwilling forward with cold-blooded indifference, all schemes and machinations rushing hand in hand toward a grand finale.

       The election was held as scheduled. In the magnificent venue, the attendees each harboured their own motives and cooperated with a tacit understanding to stage a magnificent, time-honoured play. Zhao Qiming watched the giant screen with a blank expression. When the jumping numbers finally froze, it felt as if his heart froze along with them. Triumphant music began to play, people around him scrambled to offer congratulations, and the person beside him rose amid thunderous applause, smiling broadly as he waved to the crowd.

       Zhao Qiming closed his eyes.

       The dust had settled.

       He knew that what he had lost was not these five votes, but the entire Zhao family. When he walked out of this venue, what awaited him would be another game—one called a battle royale. The Zhao family, fallen from its high pedestal, would become the target of all arrows, its blood and flesh used as sacrifice to feed the hyenas lunging from the shadows.

       From that moment on, there would be no smooth path left.

       In the study of the small building, as the secretary reported the results to Shen Changyun, Qin Mu was practising calligraphy. His hand trembled, and the dot in the character “玉”(jade) landed too heavily, looking like a sickly, wilted comma.

       Shen Changyun glanced at it and said lazily, “Your mind isn’t calm. You won’t write well that way.”

       Qin Mu simply put down the brush and asked, “You already knew the outcome?”

       Shen Changyun neither confirmed nor denied it. He leaned against the desk, dipped a brush in ink, and said, “The higher a person climbs, the more they fall under an illusion—as if they can control everything. They forget that there are always people above them, skies beyond their sky.” As he spoke, he wrote, the brush moving like flying dragons and leaping snakes, his hand steady as ever. “The two families fought to the death, but from the eyes watching above, it’s nothing more than dogs biting dogs. Dogs are meant for guarding the house. What difference does it make which one wins? It’s just a matter of preventing them from growing too big and becoming disobedient.” He finished writing, set down the brush, and sighed with regret. “He doesn’t understand this principle.”

       Qin Mu stared silently at the vigorous, iron-hook strokes of that “玉” character. He didn’t know who exactly this ‘he’ the Old Man Shen referred to, but he could hear the desolate undertone. The more he interacted with him, the more he admired this Shen family’s pillar—wise, detached, transparent, like the moon hanging over a lonely frontier fortress, seeing through the coldness and warmth of the human world, yet carrying an indescribable loneliness.

       In truth, everyone in the Shen family was lonely.

       For some reason, a familiar silhouette drifted through his mind, as though the ink scent carried a hint of Darjeeling tea. He steadied himself, crumpled the ruined sheet of xuan paper¹high-quality traditional Chinese paper and tossed it into the wastebasket. Then he laid out a fresh sheet and wrote, stroke by stroke:

       “At dawn, I battle to the beat of golden drums,

       At night, I sleep with my jade saddle in my arms.

       I wish to take the sword at my waist

       And go straight to cut down Loulan.”

       Not long after the election ended, the Baolijian case went to trial. Fifty-eight victims filed a collective lawsuit demanding 320 million in compensation, shocking the entire country. Baolijian’s stock price plummeted, and its assets were frozen. The trial cycle would be long; no verdict had been reached yet, but anyone with eyes could see—this case marked the crumbling collapse of the Zhao family’s skyscr4p3r.

       Qin Mu stared at the news for a long time before stuffing his phone into his pocket. He lit a cigarette and walked briskly toward the little garden. A heavy snowfall had blanketed the world during the day, turning everything white, like crushed, drifting clouds or pear blossoms. The whole world was covered by a soft, fluffy quilt, looking particularly clean.

       Down south in K City, snow was rare, and even when it fell, it never stayed. Even if it did, it turned everything wet and slushy, splashing up everywhere. Qin Mu hadn’t seen such thick snow in a long time. He felt playful and stomped out a big circle of footprints. Still not satisfied, he crouched down, rolled two snowballs, stacked them into a tiny snowman on the stone table, and stuck his spent cigarette butt in its mouth. He admired it for a moment, satisfied, then shook the snow off his hands and prepared to head inside.

       When he turned around, he saw someone standing under the eaves.

       Shen Liu was wearing a dark cashmere coat, hands in his pockets, standing motionless under the light. It was unclear when he had arrived.

       “Come in, it’s cold outside,” Qin Mu said. Shen Liu had come here so infrequently that after living here this long, Qin Mu felt more like half the host.

       Shen Liu followed him indoors. He had lost a lot of weight during the days they hadn’t seen each other. Stubble shadowed his jaw; he looked exhausted.

       “Old Man Shen is upstairs. He’s probably getting ready to rest,” Qin Mu said at the foot of the stairs, taking off his glasses to wipe the fog from the lenses. The temperature difference was always annoying for people who wore glasses.

       “I’ve already seen him,” Shen Liu said. His voice was soft, like the snow outside. “I was going to leave, but I happened to see you out there, so I stood for a while.”

       That made the air grow a little awkward. Qin Mu changed the subject, “Is everything going smoothly?”

       “The overall situation is settled, though fully resolving it will take time,” Shen Liu said after thinking for a moment. “The one who ran down Teacher Xiao with a car, and the fugitive who tried to chop off your finger—they’ve both been caught. The police are processing everything. The results should come out soon.”

       Qin Mu nodded.

       “I had your luggage sent to your room,” Shen Liu said, watching him with a gaze full of longing, as though afraid to miss even a single expression. “I’ve spoken with the old man. You can return to K City tomorrow.”

       Qin Mu was slightly surprised. His eyes met Shen Liu’s for a moment before he quietly accepted the arrangement. “All right.”

       Both of them fell silent for a while.

       Shen Liu’s lips moved, as though he were struggling to squeeze out more words, but there was really nothing left to say. Everything that needed saying had been said. What remained was only guilt. Qin Mu didn’t like hearing ‘sorry’, so he didn’t dare to bring it up. He could only let that heavy, stone-like guilt crush his heart.

       Qin Mu also wanted to say something to break the tension, but at this moment, anything he said felt inappropriate. This was a farewell, after all; he didn’t want to leave the other person with unpleasant memories. Because of that selfish desire, he couldn’t even come up with meaningless small talk. All he could do was feign deafness and remain silent.

       And so, two people who were usually the best with words stood face-to-face, unable to break this damned silence.

       Shen Liu was the first to speak.

       “After going back to K City, what do you plan to do?”

       “Visit Teacher Xiao’s grave, go home and look after my cat, sleep well,” Qin Mu answered.

       Shen Liu nodded, then asked, “Will you still come to J City in the future?”

       “If there are cases, I’ll come,” Qin Mu said.

       He still intended to continue being a lawyer. Shen Liu quietly exhaled in relief and even smiled. “If you come, you can contact me. We’re still… friends, after all.”

       “I won’t contact you anymore,” Qin Mu said, taking an unobtrusive deep breath, as though only that could help him say the words smoothly. “To be honest, these days I’ve been regretting things. I shouldn’t have let you risk your entire family for me. That absurd deal… happened because I didn’t put you where you should’ve been. It was wrong from the beginning. Luckily, you won. So I don’t have to carry guilt over it anymore.” He paused, then continued, “No matter before or now, in our relationship, you’ve always been the protector. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, but I can’t agree with you interfering in my life. We both need our own space to live our own independent lives.” He lowered his gaze, avoiding Shen Liu’s eyes. “From now on, there’s no need for us to see each other again.”

       Perhaps only the one speaking knew how much strength it took to deliver those words so evenly and steadily. The listener could only stare at him, stunned, bewitched, unmoving.

       Qin Mu waited a long time before he finally heard that faint ‘okay’, so soft it almost melted into the air.

       That night, Qin Mu hardly slept. He booked an early flight back to K City the next day, and at dawn, he said farewell to Old Man Shen. As he dragged his suitcase across the courtyard, his steps froze.

       The snow on the stone table had not yet melted. Beside the little snowman he had built, there stood another snowman, exactly the same, with a big smiling face drawn on it. The two stood side by side, as if inseparable.

       Tears welled uncontrollably at the corners of Qin Mu’s eyes, and he hastily turned his gaze away.

       The plane roared as it shot into the sky, cleaving through the clouds. Two parallel lines, twisted together by the distortion of space, after a brief mistaken intersection, finally returned to their rightful tracks—never to intersect again.

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       Not long after Shen Liu was summoned away by Shen Lan, the people sent by Elder Shen arrived.

       Butler Jin didn’t dare let the family bodyguards forcibly block them. While anxiously sending someone to contact Tao Ze, he tried every possible way to stall for time. But these people wouldn’t buy it, and they went straight up to the fourth floor without the slightest courtesy. The man leading them knocked the door open and spoke stiffly, “Elder General Shen wants to see you. Please come with us.”

       Qin Mu was slightly taken aback, his gaze sweeping over the man in a quick assessment, pausing briefly at the man’s waist. Inside the intentionally or unintentionally opened coat, a glimpse of a brown leather holster was clearly visible.

       Butler Jin forced a smile as he tried to persuade them from the side, “It’s the middle of the night and freezing outside. You should at least give Lawyer Qin some time to change his clothes, shouldn’t you? He won’t run off while he’s still inside the house. Why don’t you all come downstairs with me and have a cup of hot tea first?”

       None of them moved. They stared at Qin Mu with stern, disciplined focus.

       Qin Mu asked, “Where did Shen Liu go?”

       Butler Jin was so anxious that sweat beaded on his forehead. He lowered his voice and said, “He went to his father’s place. Secretary Tao’s phone has been busy nonstop. I’ve already sent someone to contact the driver.”

       Stuck in a situation with no easy way out, Qin Mu thought for a moment. Then, in a gentle tone, he asked the man leading the group, “May I go in and get a coat?”

       “The Elder General is waiting. Please be quick.”

       Qin Mu went back to his room, put on an overcoat, and took out his phone to send a WeChat message to ‘Call Me Brother and I’ll Give You Candy’—I’m going to meet your grandfather. After that, he opened the door and said to them, “All right, let’s go.”

       The off-road jeep moved unimpeded through the night toward an unfamiliar and unknown destination, like a faintly glowing fish gliding through the pitch-black depths of the sea.

       Qin Mu’s phone vibrated—it was a reply from that person.

       —Call Me Brother and I’ll Give You Candy: Wait for me. I’m on my way.

       After driving for about half an hour, the vehicle finally slowed as it approached a tall iron gate. By the headlights’ illumination, Qin Mu barely made out the red characters ‘Restricted Area’ and ‘Do Not Approach’ on a white background outside. In the brief flash, he also saw the pale, frozen faces of armed guards inside the sentry post, rifles in hand.

       The car stopped in front of a three-story building. The exterior façade was in the 1980s style, showing its age. A tall, upright figure stood at the entrance. The group ‘escorting’ Qin Mu snapped to attention and saluted the moment they saw him.

       Qin Mu hadn’t expected to run into Shen Yan here and was slightly surprised.

       “I’ll take you up,” Shen Yan said. With that, the others dispersed neatly.

       As soon as they stepped inside the building, the sound of jinghu¹traditional Chinese bowed string instrument strings reached them. Going up to the second floor, the layered beats of the drumboard grew clearer, and the singing lines became distinct. Shen Yan led him to the reception room door and said quietly, “The Elder won’t make things difficult for you. Just answer whatever he asks.” Then he pushed the door open.

       Crisp, resonant percussion and drawn-out singing flowed toward them.

       “Although the great king is virtuous and kind, I cannot suppress the anger in my mind.
      If Xiao Xiangru returns afraid, meeting him on a narrow path would disgrace him outright. With fury pressed down, I return home tonight…”

       An elderly man sat on a rattan chair, eyes closed as he listened to the opera. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest as he quietly sang along, immersed as though he had stepped into the scene itself, entirely unaware that someone had entered. On the small table beside him, besides a speaker, sat a freshly brewed pot of tea. Steam curled from the spout of the purple clay teapot, and the air carried a faint fragrance of tea. Qin Mu did not disturb him; he simply stood quietly to the side.

       Only after hearing the last syllable of “It is not that I am prejudiced, but how can I tolerate a mere boy?” did Shen Changyun open his eyes, his gaze falling on Qin Mu with a hint of coldness. Qin Mu politely lowered his head and greeted him with a soft “Elder Shen,” then said nothing more. Seeing Shen Changyun reach for his teacup, he stepped forward and lifted the pot to pour tea for him.

       Shen Changyun took a sip and drawled unhurriedly, “Nothing you want to ask?”

       Qin Mu set the pot down steadily on the table and answered, “No.”

       A hint of amusement flickered in the old man’s eyes. He said lightly, “Then just wait,” and closed his eyes again to listen to the opera. Qin Mu continued standing, his gaze fixed on the door left slightly ajar.

       Time seemed stretched thin by rising steam and the lingering, lilting melody—turning into a hazy, unreal maze. From countless moments across different ages and appearances, Shen Liu seemed to walk toward him again and again, swelling his heart with a faint ache.

       Qin Mu realized he couldn’t stop himself from thinking of him and when that person truly appeared before his eyes, he instead felt a strange, unreal daze.

       The green-painted wooden door slammed against the wall with an ill-timed bang. Cloaked in a black coat, Shen Liu looked like a vampire stepping out of the night—immaculately dressed, yet radiating unrestrained arrogance and wildness, his whole body carrying a bloodthirsty fury, as if he could snap someone’s neck in the next second.

       He saw Qin Mu at first glance.

       Their eyes met.

       Qin Mu’s gaze was steady and calm, like a tranquil sea beneath the moon, quietly washing over the shore, smoothing away every wound and trace of ruin. Shen Liu remembered that look—many years ago, Qin Mu had looked at him the same way, choosing without hesitation to abandon everything and leave with him.

       Suddenly, as if a warm breeze had risen out of thin air, all the dense, suffocating loneliness and violence inside him was effortlessly blown apart.

       Shen Liu regained his composure. He closed his eyes briefly in guilt, and when he opened them again, the cold sharpness had already returned. He shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto the sofa, saying to Shen Changyun, “If you wanted to see me, a phone call would have been enough. Why bother going through all this trouble?”

       “Raise a bird, and once its wings grow strong, it won’t be happy to fly back after being let out. So you have to find a rope to tie it with.” Shen Changyun glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It seems this rope was chosen quite accurately.”

       “That’s a bit hurtful. You raised me yourself—you know my temperament best. I’ve always been obedient.” Shen Liu walked over, rolled up his sleeves, and lifted the teapot from the small table to refill the cup.

       They stood very close. The scent on the man—Darjeeling tea mixed with the cold night air—quietly enveloped Qin Mu’s senses. The faint brush of their sleeves felt like a soft squirrel’s tail sweeping lightly across his heart. The gesture carried a kind of reassurance, as if saying, ‘I’m right here beside you’.

       The heart Qin Mu had been holding aloft finally settled, landing steadily back into his chest.

       Shen Liu said unhurriedly, “It’s been a while since you and I saw each other, Grandpa. Since you’re not sleepy, why don’t we have a proper chat tonight? As for irrelevant people, it’s best they step out. What do you say?”

       Shen Changyun narrowed his eyes behind his teacup, looking at the two of them with interest. Then he said, “Ah Yan, keep Lawyer Qin company outside.”

       Shen Yan responded and came in. Qin Mu glanced lightly at Shen Liu, then left.

       Shen Yan took him to the tearoom and asked, “What tea would you like?”

       “No need,” Qin Mu said.

       Shen Yan poured him a cup of plain water, sat down, and said, “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

       “Neither did I.” Qin Mu rubbed the cup, warmth finally seeping into his palms.

       After two lines of what barely qualified as small talk, they fell silent at the same time. Shen Yan was sparing with words; Qin Mu simply didn’t want to speak.

       After a quiet while, Shen Yan suddenly said, “Back then, it was Shen Liu who told me to persuade you to leave. It was to protect you.”

       Hearing that, Qin Mu let out a small laugh. “I thought I already knew most of the things I was ‘supposed to know but didn’t.’ I didn’t expect there were still more.” He lifted his eyes and looked directly at him. “Since you were going to hide it from me back then, you should have hidden it flawlessly and taken it to the grave. Why rush to reveal it now?”

       Shen Yan said, “He has never been able to forget you all these years.”

       “So you’re hoping we’ll rekindle our old feelings.” Qin Mu’s voice carried mockery. “Makes sense. That way, this rope would actually be useful.”

       Shen Yan’s brow twitched.

       Qin Mu continued mildly, “Shen Liu took it upon himself to ignite a war and forced the Shen family into a position where they had no choice but to fight. As a chess piece, he’s already out of control. But the Shen family can’t handle him—because he holds the economic lifelines, grips the weaknesses and selfish interests of many people, and now commands vast connections and supporters. With the Zhao family circling nearby, moving against him now would cause massive internal damage. The Shen family can’t afford a two-front confrontation. But letting him act freely is also risky—the entire family has become a bargaining chip in his hands; one wrong move, and everything could collapse. At such a critical moment, the best method is to grab hold of something that can restrain him and prevent him from doing anything desperate. Funny enough, Elder General Shen came to me. Why was he so certain I could restrain Shen Liu?” He paused, his dark eyes fixed on Shen Yan. “Someone must have told him something. This informant knew my past with Shen Liu, our relationship, why Shen Liu was fighting the Zhao family, and that he would surely compromise for my sake. Did I guess correctly?”

       Shen Yan sat straight, silent. His hand had unconsciously tightened. He hadn’t expected Qin Mu to have already pieced the whole situation together. Such sharp insight left him unprepared.

       Qin Mu’s lips held a faint, cool smile tinged with mockery. “Let’s guess again why he did it. Maybe it was out of absolute loyalty, choosing to forever stand by the Elder’s side. Maybe it was driven by self-interest, turning his back on his brother at the critical moment. Or maybe it was because his footing in the military was still unstable and he needed to rely on the Elder’s power, unwilling to let the family’s centre of authority fall elsewhere. So he kept testing and prodding me, hoping I’d rekindle old feelings and tie Shen Liu down tightly. Right?”

       Shen Yan closed his eyes briefly. “Think what you want—I don’t care. I couldn’t stand by and watch him destroy the Shen family for you, just like I couldn’t stand by and watch you destroy him back then.”

       Qin Mu let out an exasperated laugh. “For his own good, for the good of the Shen family—using this kind of banner to cover up personal selfishness really never goes out of style. Claiming noble motives while scheming in the shadows, opposing him yet choosing this exact moment to take a stand—doesn’t that make you feel even a little guilty? Shen Liu once told me his family was pretty terrifying, that sometimes he couldn’t tell what was real. I thought he was exaggerating back then. Now it just feels heartbreaking.”

       He set the cup down on the tea table, a suffocating coldness spreading through his eyes. “Shen Liu would back down for my sake, but I will never let him retreat until there’s nowhere left to retreat. Now it’s your turn to guess; if this rope breaks, what do you think he’ll do?”

       Shen Yan’s pupils contracted sharply.

       Just then, the door opened, and the man they had been talking about walked in with quick steps. Shen Yan rose immediately, unconsciously avoiding his gaze.

       “Yan ge, Grandpa wants Qin Mu to stay here for a while. Please help me keep an eye on him.” Shen Liu mentioned nothing about the betrayal, as if he knew nothing about it.

       “…Alright.” Flustered, Shen Yan excused himself quickly. “You two talk. I’ll go arrange a room for him.”

       Soon, only the two of them remained in the tearoom.

       Shen Liu looked at Qin Mu, his throat clogged with words—so many of them, yet he didn’t know where to begin. In the end, he only said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

       “What are you apologizing for?” Qin Mu lifted his face and met his eyes. “For changing the place you’re keeping me locked up, or for including me in your plans from the very beginning?”

       Qin Mu wasn’t stupid. He could see that Shen Liu’s so-called ‘banquet’ had been held to draw in allies. Designing the event so Qin Mu would attend, deliberately revealing their relationship—such unnecessary actions weren’t spur-of-the-moment actions.

       Shen Liu had been testing him. Testing the reliability of those allies through him. Who would stand on his side unconditionally, and who would turn around and report to the Shen family elders?

       Perhaps even then, Shen Liu had already been suspicious of Shen Yan’s loyalties or perhaps he had planned all along to hand Qin Mu over to the Elder General through Shen Yan. Because only then would the Elder General feel certain he held Shen Liu’s weak point, making him more willing to hand over power. After all, in a family like this, a controllable hostage was far more reassuring than some vague emotional tie…

       What else was hidden in this web of calculations?

       Qin Mu didn’t want to think anymore.

       He was tired.

       Shen Liu didn’t try to argue. He said gently, “Staying here is safer than staying with me. I’ll come for you soon. I promise.”

       “I’m tired of hearing the word ‘sorry.’” Qin Mu closed his eyes in exhaustion. “Shen Liu, if you’re truly sorry, then don’t appear in front of me again.”

T/N:
Geezuz christ I did miss chapter 40….

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       For J City, this was an ordinary night. This ancient city had long grown accustomed to the rise and fall of dynasties, had witnessed the flourishing and decline of ethnic tribes, and had watched countless brilliant figures turn into dust. In the thousands of years it had lived through, this night was no different from innumerable other dull and uneventful nights.

       For the majority of the people living in it, this was also an ordinary night. Behind those windows where the lights were still on, drowsy young parents were helplessly trying to soothe their crying children; programmers working overtime were irritably tapping away at their keyboards; couples whose passion had long faded were quarrelling in anger inside their rented rooms; sleepless students were hiding under their blankets scrolling on their phones. The trivialities of life had defeated dreams, reproducing lives that were similar and mediocre—like a vast, blind school of fish circling around each other, day after day.

       For some people, however, this was a sleepless night. Zhao Jinchuan’s death shot into the eye of a giant beast like a burning rocket, catching it off guard and making that decayed, violent monster roar in fury.

       The small sitting room of Elder Zhao was brightly lit. The second generation of the Zhao family had all gathered, their expressions dark. The elderly man in the wheelchair coughed a few times in a hoarse voice, took the teacup from the guard, drank two sips, and rasped, “Continue.”

       The young man standing beside him held himself straight as a rod, speaking at an unhurried, measured pace, “Perpetrator Sun Jiangao entered Waterfront Garden through Supervisor Liu Xueqiang. When registering as a staff member, he used a forged ID—Sun Da. According to Liu Xueqiang’s confession, hiring Sun Da was done on Huang Jing’s instruction. Huang Jing had served as Zhao Jinchuan’s personal secretary for six years, so he didn’t suspect anything. After the incident, Huang Jing disappeared. His last known location was at Nanshan Cemetery. Surveillance shows he went there early in the morning to offer flowers. The grave belongs to Zhang Ting, Huang Jing’s younger sister. Because their parents divorced, she changed her surname. She was only fourteen when she died. The cause of death was publicly declared an accident, but in fact, she died after being lured by classmates to serve as a companion guest and was abused to death. Because so much time has passed, the details are blurry, but preliminary suspicion is that the m

       At this point, the old man let out a cold snort and said with a stiff face, “A depraved illegitimate son—dead is dead, nothing to pity.”

       Zhao Dongsheng’s face turned pale; he said nothing.

       The young man continued, “As of now, the accident case in H City has taken away twenty-eight people; some have already been transferred to the judiciary. Zhao Siyuan has been in the interrogation room for sixteen hours and still hasn’t come out.”

       Zhao Siyuan was the son of Zhao Qiming, the eldest of the Zhao family.

       Zhao Qiming frowned deeply and said, “That old fox Director Zhang Ke of the Discipline and Inspection Bureau… If it weren’t for Father’s support back then, that position would never have gone to him. Usually, he’s all flattering smiles when he sees me, but today, when I went personally, he used ‘a meeting’ as an excuse to avoid me. On the phone, he just kept pushing things around, refusing to say who’s stirring trouble behind the scenes and giving no clear stance at all.”

       “He’s finally picked a side,” Elder Zhao said, the corner of his mouth lifting casually.

       “I thought he planned to swing like a smiling pendulum his whole life.”

       “You’re saying he’s gone over to the Shen family?” the second son, Zhao Weiguo, asked. “Why would he—”

       “Why would he? There’s no such thing as ‘why’.” The old man cut him off.

       “When I pushed him into that position back then, it was to use him as a shield. Who knew he’d actually have the skill to sit so steadily? Over the years, he acted warm toward us, but every message he passed along was something already known by everyone. As for the higher-ups’ true intentions, he kept them sealed so tight that not a single bit leaked. I saw it long ago—this dog can’t be raised loyal. And now that he’s caught a chance, he’s taking a bite out of us.”

       His throat itched, and he coughed again twice. “Don’t rush to pull people out yet. Have someone pass a message inside telling Siyuan to stay steady. If he has to suffer a bit, then he suffers a bit—nothing to make a fuss about. Once the storm passes, during the trial we’ll find someone to take the fall and it’ll be over.”

       “Yes,” the young man replied. “Public opinion blew up too fast this time, and the scale is too large. It’s already beyond a controllable range. Director Li Tao of the Publicity Department has done his best, but the effect isn’t great.”

       “Li Tao is useless. He was already sidelined by those two deputies the Shen family planted.”

       Zhao Weiguo pressed down his anger. “I’ve said from the beginning to pick more young cadres to train personally, but you all prefer using the old ones because they’re convenient. These old slickers only know how to take without doing. When the time comes to rely on them, not a single one can stand firm.”

       “Enough. Complaining now won’t help.” Zhao Qiming said, “The Shen family clearly wants a fight to the death. We need a counter-strategy.”

       Zhao Dongsheng let out a cold laugh, “We have dirt beneath our feet. How clean can the Shen family’s backside be? If they want to tear things open, then tear everything open. If the fig leaf is coming off, no one should expect to keep their dignity!”

       “Father, what do you think?” Zhao Qiming turned to the elder. “You still have to make the final call.”

       Although they were all capable in their respective fields, they still respected Elder Zhao the most. Fighting the Shen family carried an enormous cost; someone needed to coordinate the whole situation. Moreover, they had to consider the higher-ups’ intentions, which none of them knew for sure.

       Old Master Zhao slowly took a sip of tea. A faint gleam of sharpness flashed in his cloudy eyes. He had spent his life on horseback, fighting on battlefields. Even though he now lived in comfort and old age had crept in, that ruthless blood still flowed in him.

       He spoke slowly, “I never expected that old fellow Shen Changyun to still have the nerve to go against me now. Back then, he was the most timid one—unlike us rough fellows. He even had schooling, you know, an educated man. And it was precisely because he was timid that he thought ahead in everything. During wartime, the soldiers under him were the ones who died the least.”

       He looked at Zhao Qiming. “Do you know why I’m saying this?”

       “You’re reminding us to be careful,” Zhao Qiming answered.

       Elder Zhao nodded, coughed a few times, and let his gaze sweep over his three sons. A faint sigh rose in his heart.

       He was old.

       When he was young, he had killed countless enemies, had the courage of a man worth ten thousand soldiers, and even when a bullet pierced his lung, he could still stubbornly survive. But time was more grinding than bullets. Age had sniped at his years; after his stroke the year before last, his legs could no longer move, and now even his strength was not what it used to be. After just a brief moment, he already felt tired.

       He steadied his breath and instructed, “The Zhao family’s power and status today cost me my entire life. Now that it’s in your hands, don’t you dare destroy it.”

       So—they were going to fight.

       The three sons straightened and said solemnly. “We understand.”

       Elder Zhao turned to the young man who had been speaking earlier. “Qinghai, get in touch. Tomorrow, I’ll personally go see a few people at the top.”

       The two forces were confronting each other—one side busy devising strategies, the other scrambling to fix the damage.

       The Shen family had been dragged into the battle by their disappointing junior, Shen Liu, who had stumbled cluelessly into the orchestral frenzy of ‘Nessun dorma¹Nessun Dorma is a famous aria from the opera Turandot where the prince sings that no one is allowed to sleep until they discover one man’s identity.‘. When Shen Lan learned that his own unlucky child had caused the whole mess, he was shocked and furious, his blood pressure nearly flaring up. He paced restlessly back and forth in his office.

       The moment he looked up and saw Shen Liu walk in, his anger surged as he grabbed a stack of documents and hurled them at him, bellowing, “Look at the mess you’ve made!”

       Shen Liu took the blow without changing expression. He simply walked to the sofa, sat down, and poured himself a cup of tea. He had been running around nonstop the entire day and hadn’t had a proper bite to eat. After everything blew up at Qin Mu’s place, he had lost his appetite entirely. There was no way he could ask for food now, so he could only use the tea to press down the sour ache in his stomach.

       Shen Lan jabbed a finger at his nose and cursed, “You killed someone from the Zhao family over a dancer, stirred up all this garbage online, and even interfered with the H City case without authorisation… has your damn brain been kicked by a donkey? Do you have any idea what time it is right now? Have you considered the consequences this might have? Can you even afford to bear them?”

       “I can’t,” Shen Liu answered, unhurried and calm.

       His bluntness only infuriated Shen Lan further. His face reddened as he slammed the table, “So you know you can’t!”

       Shen Liu lifted his eyelids and looked at him. “So are you planning to bear it for me, or are you going to sacrifice the pawn to save the rook and throw me out there as an offering for peace?”

       Shen Lan let out a cold laugh. “What do you think?”

       “I think you don’t get to decide,” Shen Liu said.

       Shen Lan was stunned into silence, unable to react for a long moment.

       Shen Liu leaned back on the sofa and spoke leisurely, “Our patriarch, who actually makes decisions in our family, is cautious and slow to act. For years, every step the Zhao family advanced, he stepped back, sitting around waiting for them to trip. Unfortunately, that fellow never capsized. So all he could do was watch the Zhao family grow stronger and let a once-promising situation rot into stagnant water.”

       Shen Liu set down his cup and continued, “Now that man from the Zhao family is highly favoured above, and public opinion polls aren’t bad either. No one can say who’ll win the election. The two families have been harbouring resentment for years over the fight for power. Once the Zhao family takes that seat, it’ll be nearly impossible for the Shen family to rise again. The old man is afraid the situation might shift, so he’s been moving assets abroad these past two years to leave the Shen family a way out. Am I right?”

       Shen Lan’s brows tightened into the shape of the character chuan²川. “An elder’s arrangements don’t need your commentary,” he said coldly.

       “You have your arrangements,” Shen Liu replied lightly. “And I have mine. Rather than hiding in a hole, trembling and waiting to be caught in one sweep, I’d rather leap out while they’re unprepared, bite down on their throat, and fight to the death. If you won’t step out, then I can only set the fire myself.”

       Shen Lan was so enraged that he felt smoke rising from his seven orifices, “You going crazy is one thing, but now you want to drag the entire family down with you? You created this mess—go clean it up yourself! Don’t expect me to save you!”

       Shen Liu let out a careless laugh. “When you needed me to work like an ox and a horse, we were oh-so affectionate father and son. Now that something’s gone wrong, you want to erase my household registration? If the Shen family doesn’t want me, I can change my surname. Zhao sounds pretty good. Even though I accidentally killed Zhao Jinchuan, I heard Elder Zhao didn’t like that illegitimate son anyway. If the greeting gift I prepared pleases him, he might be more than happy to take me in.”

       “You bastard—what nonsense are you spewing?!” These outrageous words sent Shen Lan into a rage.

       “What, you don’t believe it?” Shen Liu’s smile faded. His attitude turned cold in an instant, like a blade slowly drawn from its sheath, gleaming with icy light. “Ten years ago, when I lost to you, I learned a lesson—never let your opponent see your cards. The Shen family is fickle. Father, brothers, relatives, even lovers can be thrown away the moment they become inconvenient. Absolutely unreliable. So over the years, I kept some reliable things for self-protection. I collected quite a lot of accounts that the Shen family couldn’t clarify, transactions that couldn’t be cleaned, shady dealings, and little habits that couldn’t see the light of day. And of course, there’s a share belonging to you. Tell me—do you think the Zhao family would like a gift like that?”

       Shen Lan’s face turned ashen. “You’re threatening me?”

       Shen Liu suddenly smiled. “That line sounds familiar. Ten years ago, the only thing I could use to threaten you was my life. At least now I have something else. I’m done being a chess piece for the Shen family. Now it’s my turn to play this game. If you won’t be my vanguard, then I’ll flip the whole board. We’ll all go down together—no one gets to stay clean.”

       With that, he stood up. “I have things to do. I don’t have time to sit here listening to your scolding. I’m leaving.”

       At that moment, Tao Ze rushed in, his face grave. He leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Elder Shen sent people to take Lawyer Qin away forcibly.”

       Shen Liu’s pupils contracted sharply.

T/N:
I always try to make it once a week kinda schedule for this series, and so if I cannot do that, I will try my best to compensate for it by posting more on the day I can post
So don’t worry when I didn’t post anything for a while
My goal is still to finish this series by the end of the year *cough*

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