Author: hoenimochi (Page 5 of 95)

       The study door slammed against the wall with a loud bang, startling Tao Ze, who had been waiting outside. Qin Mu had left just now without a word, and now Shen Liu came out with that kind of expression. Even a blind man like Tao Ze could tell that something was wrong between the two of them. He silently sighed in his heart.

       “What has he been doing these past two days?” Shen Liu asked, his face dark.

       Tao Ze pulled himself together and reported in full detail, “Yesterday he had a video meeting, contacted people from the law firm, and went out with you in the evening. Today he spent the whole day studying in front of the computer.” He then quietly added, “Nothing unusual.”

       Shen Liu asked again, “What did he look at?”

       To prevent Qin Mu from getting too involved in the Baolijian case, that computer had been set up with remote monitoring, and Qin Mu had been informed beforehand.

       “He… browsed trending news online, and information related to the Baolijian case.” Tao Ze hurriedly checked on his tablet. “Oh, right—this morning his legal assistant sent an email. It contained the identities of all the clients whose cases he handled over the past few years.”

       Shen Liu’s breath stopped for a moment, as if something inside him cracked. A massive boulder rolled off a long-neglected high platform and crashed fiercely onto his heart, sending that once-impenetrable heart stumbling.

       “Is there a problem?” Tao Ze asked cautiously.

       Shen Liu closed his eyes, exhaled a heavy, defeated breath, and murmured, “He already knows.”

       Knows what?

       Tao Ze froze for a second, then reacted as if struck by lightning. His eyes widened. “Impossible. I’ve always been extremely careful, just like you ordered. There’s no way he could’ve found any evidence.”

       “He doesn’t need evidence.” Shen Liu leaned against the bannister at the corner of the stairs, as if his strength had been drained. A bleakness filled his eyes. “Between him and me, his conviction alone is enough.”

       He now understood why Qin Mu had said those things last night, and why he had acted so strangely today.

       The contract he had unintentionally discovered in the book had torn open the truth of that year. Behind the hard-won ‘fairness’ hid the absurd deal between the Shen family father and son. All of this left Qin Mu shocked, helpless, conflicted, and filled with an indescribable guilt and sorrow. Years ago, in order to protect his own laughable hopes, Shen Liu had stepped into the world of under-the-table exchanges for the first time in his life. A young man who had nothing had sacrificed his pride and freedom to light a lamp for him. That lamp had given him strength and courage, accompanying him through silent nights and long, long roads. Even now, upon discovering that it had only been an illusory flame, he still wanted to hold it carefully in his palms.

       What right did he have to blame him?

       He simply felt distressed. That was why he became ‘angry for having no right or qualification to be angry’; and why he couldn’t help but admonish, “When a person grows accustomed to relying on power, money, and connections, they should beware of the consequences if these things are lost one day.” Hidden in those words were his sincerity and his apology. He knew how frightening power and desire were, and he feared Shen Liu would fall into the whirlpool and never climb out.

       Even though they had missed each other, even though mountains, years, and distance lay between them, the unforgettable love of their youth would not completely fade. Qin Mu still trusted Shen Liu. He understood the predicament that came with being ‘a member of the Shen family’. He tolerated that night of indulgence born from private desire, avoided a direct clash with Shen Liu’s profit-driven beliefs, and even tacitly accepted the extraordinary measures he took. Because he believed that the man who had once drawn his blade without hesitation on a snowy night to help a stranger could distinguish right from wrong, discern truth from falsehood, and hold fast to proper boundaries and a basic bottom line.

       But Sun Jiangao’s death pierced the defensive line Qin Mu had built in his heart. Like a gust of icy wind, it made that lamp flicker unsteadily. Power became a blade, and human life its bait. Under the weight of influence, people became chess pieces to be manipulated at will, and a person’s life a script that could be rewritten with ease… Shen Liu’s terrifying ‘omnipotence’ awakened the seed called ‘doubt’ buried deep in Qin Mu’s heart.

       Qin Mu was perceptive. That perceptiveness had been forged from the fragility and sensitivity of his youth and from harsh trials, allowing him to instinctively detect anomalies from scattered details and connect faint traces together.

       Why had his career gone so smoothly?

       Why had that proud, highly selective top attorney chosen him among so many talented candidates?

       Why had wealthy clients entrusted their fortunes to a newly established firm?

       Why had that defence case, which had cornered him due to his negligence, suddenly turned around in the end?

       Everything he had once chalked up to ‘luck’ suddenly had another possible explanation. That seed pierced straight through his heart and sprouted bloody branches.

       He had checked every case he had handled. Shen Liu knew he wanted to verify it. He was searching for that invisible hand.

       No matter how precise the calculation, there would be flaws; no matter how careful the arrangement, there would be traces. Not to mention that the two of them understood each other too well. Qin Mu didn’t even need solid evidence to realise that the hand that had pushed Sun Jiangao to his doom had also entered his world, building steps beneath his feet, turning crises around, smoothing his path, pushing him onto a road of comfort and security.

       The judicial fairness was nothing but a gimmick; the scales of law were nothing but a joke; integrity was nothing but a façade. He was nothing but a clown, proudly delighting in victories he had believed he earned through hard work. That hand became a slap across his face—shattering his pride, his confidence, the principles he had held as sacred, and even his ideal of ‘wielding the law as a sword to defend the borders of justice’.

       The seed of doubt finally grew into a vine of self-denial, stabbing his heart full of wounds, piercing flesh, winding around bone, growing wildly inside him. His entire world began to shake, to melt, to crumble apart.

       In the end, the faint light he had been cradling in his palms also fell into the dust.

       

       The world shifted, all things turned, and fate was like a fickle voyeur. Fate stood at a great height, watching coldly as Shen Liu grasped power to resist his father’s authority, manipulated others to escape control, and abandoned his bottom line to become stronger. It tugged on the red thread in its hand, luring Shen Liu into turning his gaze again and again toward the distant K City, urging him to step in and shelter Qin Mu from wind and rain. It waited patiently for all dust to settle, then, with great interest, delivered Qin Mu right to Shen Liu’s side and afterwards placed ‘Being and Nothingness’ into his hands with a smile.

       The warrior who picked up a blade to slay a dragon eventually turned into a dragon himself. Shen Liu, who had lit a lamp for Qin Mu, had personally extinguished that very lamp. Round and round he went, making a cocoon that bound him tight.

       The way Qin Mu had looked just now had seared Shen Liu.

       Lonely and sorrowful, transparent and fragile. Like a shadow that had lost its soul, as if it would vanish if the light grew just a little brighter.

       —In your eyes, how much is my life worth?

       What kind of feeling had he carried when he asked that question?

       The man stared blankly toward the top of the staircase, feeling as if someone were sawing back and forth across his heart, the pain nearly stealing his breath. Never had he been as regretful or as panicked as he was now.

       Even Tao Ze, who had followed him for many years, had never seen him like this. Uneasily, he suggested, “Maybe… you should go explain. It only happened a few times…”

       Shen Liu did not hear clearly what he was saying. He felt like a rusted, malfunctioning robot, no longer under his own control. His legs moved on their own, carrying him up the stairs to the door of the master bedroom. He lifted his hand, then slowly lowered it again, his mind a complete blank.

       What could he say? Every explanation would only be an excuse.

       He had overestimated himself. When he had interfered in Qin Mu’s life out of his own wishful thinking, he had not even considered the possibility that it would all be uncovered. Perhaps, in some arrogant corner of his heart, he had believed that his intentions had all been ‘for Qin Mu’s own good’and that even if he were found out, he would still be able to handle it with ease.

       But now, at this very moment, he realised he did not even have the courage to face Qin Mu.

       That gaze of disappointment and distance had nearly killed him.

       

       Dealing with the Zhao family was no easy task. The current situation was complicated, and everything depended on Shen Liu’s planning and strategy. At such a critical moment, he could not afford any distraction, yet the two of them had ended up in conflict. Tao Ze was practically dying of anxiety.

       He waited downstairs for a long time without hearing any movement. He quietly climbed half a flight of stairs, craned his neck for a look, and froze in shock—Shen Liu had not even gone in. He was standing silently at the door, completely still, like a telephone pole planted there.

       What was this? A ‘king does not face king’ standoff¹originally referred to two people of equally high status or power who avoid meeting each other?

       Where were all those sweet-talking tactics he usually used? The carrot-and-stick methods? The life-or-death cleverness? Was he planning to stand there blocking the Wi-Fi signal until Lawyer Qin was forced to come out?

       Tao Ze was roasting him frantically in his heart. Out loud, he muttered, “If this problem stays stuck between them, won’t both of them be doomed? And if the boss is in a bad mood, won’t I be doomed?”

       He clenched his teeth. Regardless of any prohibitions, he bolted up the stairs. He took two steps in one and pounded violently on the door, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Lawyer Qin, help! Help me!” His voice was so miserable it sounded like someone being mauled by a dog.

       Outside, Shen Liu was startled half to death, instantly snapping back to himself. Inside, Qin Mu was also startled and thought something had happened, so he pulled the door open. The moment Tao Ze accomplished his suicidal mission, he turned and ran. He was practically flying down the stairs as if he had mastered light-footwork martial arts, leaving only the two men at the doorway staring at each other.

       The scene was inexplicably ridiculous.

       When a subordinate did something like this, it was the boss who lost face. Shen Liu awkwardly explained, “I didn’t tell him to do that.”

       Qin Mu held a cigarette between his lips. He glanced at Shen Liu expressionlessly and started to close the door. Shen Liu hurriedly pressed against it. “I have something to say.”

       Qin Mu stood silently for a moment. Seeing that he had no intention of letting go, he released the door and walked back inside.

       The window was open, and the room was very cold. The ashtray on the coffee table was filled with cigarette butts; the wind blowing in had scattered much of the lingering smoke. Qin Mu was a highly disciplined person and rarely smoked this many cigarettes in succession. Shen Liu saw it and felt a sharp ache in his heart. He called softly, “Log.”

       Qin Mu leaned against the window and exhaled a stream of smoke, calm as still water. “Are you here to answer my question?”

       “I came to apologise.” Shen Liu admitted his mistake as a belated remedy, “I shouldn’t have taken it upon myself to interfere in your affairs. Back then, I…” His tongue suddenly grew clumsy; he couldn’t find the right words.

       Qin Mu pulled at the corner of his mouth—a smile that looked utterly exhausted, or perhaps just self-mocking. “I only want to know one thing. Can you tell the truth?”

       “Yes.” Shen Liu agreed without even thinking.

       Qin Mu fixed his gaze on him. “About anything that concerns me, aside from what I’ve already found out, is there anything else you’ve been hiding from me?”

       Shen Liu hesitated. In that instant, lazy clouds drifting across the sky, a cramped bathroom shrouded in darkness, fish that couldn’t be washed clean in the sink, and a rain-soaked face flashed through his mind like a film playing at thirty-two times speed.

       Their gazes met, just for a moment, but Qin Mu caught it. His eyelashes trembled faintly.

       Shen Liu felt his own heart tremble with them. He said urgently, “I can explain. Give me a chance—”

       “Shen Liu.” Qin Mu cut him off. His voice was unusually composed. “That’s all in the past. You had your position. If I were in your place, maybe I wouldn’t have found a better choice. I don’t have the right to judge you, and I don’t want to pursue anything. It’s just that we each have our own lives now. After this transaction ends, please let me go.”

       Time had carved naïveté into reason and tempered hot blood into cool restraint. Maturity meant learning how to protect oneself. If being genuine made one vulnerable, then joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness were hidden deep away. If being sensitive made one vulnerable, then anything that might affect him was thrown far from reach. If change easily led to pain, then he wrapped himself in the comfort of the familiar. If loving someone easily led to pain, then he became the silent, passive one.

       The young Qin Mu would have grieved for a long time over a first love that faded without closure, but the mature Qin Mu had learned to use cold decisiveness against old affections left unresolved. He withdrew neatly, severing every path that led back to him, even delivering his final words with poise and dignity.

       Shen Liu stood there in silence, unmoving, staring at him, his lips pressed into a straight hard line. Just as he was about to speak, his phone rang.

       It was Shen Lan.

       He had no choice but to leave.

       Shen Liu let out a heavy sigh. Before stepping out the door, he paused and said softly, “Don’t smoke so much.”

       Qin Mu said nothing and quietly gazed out at the pitch-black night sky. The wind blowing in felt as though it poured straight into his body, chilling even his heart.

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       The next morning, news of ‘Chairman of Baolijian had been stabbed to death in a private club’ appeared online. The keyword rose to the top of real-time hot searches amid public scepticism, but it vanished again after only a few minutes.

       An hour later, the story shot back up to the top of the trending list, bringing the name ‘Zhao Jinchuan’ into the open. After a few fluctuations, it took firm hold. Immediately, multiple news outlets jumped in, related reports arrived in quick succession, and a tumult swept the whole internet. Alongside them resurfaced other reports that had been repeatedly mentioned over the years and then buried — ‘Baolijian contained toxic substances that caused deaths’, ‘multiple batches of Baolijian products failed quality checks’, ‘Baolijian consumption caused liver damage’… and trending terms like ‘Zhao Jinchuan’s background’, ‘the Zhao family’, and ‘his surname Zhao’. At noon, the J City police released an official notice—the case was a homicide, and the suspect had committed suicide.

       Although the notice did not explain the specifics, as attention mounted fragments of detail began to circulate online. Resistance followed: a large amount of content deemed ‘false statements’ was deleted and accounts were banned, but this seemed to have little effect. More and more ‘inside stories’ that were being exposed grew, scattering across the web like snowflakes. The whole network felt as if it had become a great whirlpool, being stirred by an invisible hand that spun ever faster. Some tried to stop it, but they were powerless.

       

       Zhao Jinchuan died a gruesome death, with blood splattered all over the wall.

       That night, he had stormed out of Zhou Lixing’s party full of anger. He went back to his private club and drank heavily. Still unsatisfied, he had summoned a young MB and brutally tormented him, only calling the bodyguards in after the man had fainted. The bodyguards carried the man out of the room and, seeing the sheets stained with blood, knowing Zhao Jinchuan hated filth and would be furious when he woke the next day, told the cleaner to come in and change the sheets.

       No one expected that, inside their own establishment, that timid cleaner would harbour murderous intent.

       In the short ten minutes after the door closed, the cleaner took a fruit knife from the kitchen and cut open Zhao Jinchuan’s carotid artery, then stabbed him six times in the chest. Zhao Jinchuan was heavily drunk and made almost no sound as he died. The killer then covered him with a blanket, wiped the blood from his face, took the dirty sheets in his arms and walked out of the room with his head down, telling the bodyguard at the door, “Young Master Chuan is sleeping.”

       Because Zhao Jinchuan would get angry if someone disturbed him while he was sleeping, the bodyguard never went in. It was only when the driver came in the morning to take him to a meeting and found no answer to repeated phone calls that they discovered him lying with his eyes half-open under the blanket, his head and body dried with blood.

       The killer had not attempted to conceal his actions; the police quickly located him through surveillance. He had returned to a rented room on the outskirts of town—a basement of only a dozen-odd square meters. The door was locked; armed police surrounded it and, when shouting went unanswered, forced entry, and a choking smell of burning charcoal hit them.

       The room had no windows, it was cold and damp, yet very tidy. Bowls and clothes were stacked neatly; a few certificates were posted on the wall; on a nail hung a small patched schoolbag. There was no table, only a high stool and a small woven mat used as a chair and table. A worn wooden bed lay against the wall; in front of it, the brazier’s charcoal glowed red.

       The suspect, or rather the killer, lay on the bed facing upward, eyes closed, his face peaceful; no longer breathing.

       By his hand lay a battered notebook, stained with grease and curled edges; inside it recorded the household’s daily expenses. The largest item had been the cost of treating his wife’s kidney disease, and that expense had disappeared five months earlier. The last page of the notebook bore a few words.

       —I killed Zhao Jinchuan. I will seek on behalf of Xiaoru the justice she could not get in this world. A blood debt must be repaid with blood; it is right, and I do not regret it.

       There were no complicated twists in the case, no convoluted motives, no bizarre mysteries, only naked vengeance.

       The internet was abuzz with updates, and many media outlets began to track down the killer’s life. As they dug deeper, they witnessed the catastrophic change that had befallen what had once been a happy, comfortable family. The wife had fallen ill after taking Baolijian, and he treatment had drained all their savings. They sold their car and house, and in the end, she still died. The grieving husband had nowhere to turn, lost his job, and lived with his only daughter. A month earlier, he had started working at a club called ‘Waterfront Garden’, where he saw the person who had pushed him into the abyss. He had picked up a knife and walked a path toward mutual destruction.

       When people understood the whole truth, they seemed to feel the despair and desolation in that lone figure’s back.

       It was the most ordinary family, the most common life, just like yours and mine.

       Empathy linked millions of hearts’ pity and anger into a thunderous roar that swept the entire online world. People kept asking—

       Why did his wife die?

       Why did Baolijian contain the SBXD component without any labelling?

       Why could such a supplement pass quality inspection and be sold?

       Why, despite frequent problems, was public opinion suppressed repeatedly?

       Why did so many complaints yield no results?

       Why could ordinary people not get the justice they deserved?

       Baolijian’s stock plummeted to its daily limit within forty minutes. The company had to post a temporary statement expressing sorrow over the accident involving Chairman Zhao Jinchuan, while also noting that the ‘Wuhua herb’* contained in Baolijian had not been classified domestically as ‘toxic or harmful’ and that Baolijian’s products had passed quality inspections.

       Fifteen minutes after the statement, scholars from K University stepped forward, noting that research three years earlier had already shown the SBXD component damaged the liver and could lead to liver disease and liver cancer, and that it had been categorised internationally as a prescription drug. Adding the Wuhua herb containing that component to supplements was itself illegal. An elderly professor with white hair even scolded the experts and influencers who had promoted Baolijian’s products as ‘profiting from people’s deaths’ and ‘shameless’.

       Afterward, reporters’ cameras revealed appalling crimes.

       One victim after another, tormented by liver disease, looked waxen and emaciated, less than half alive. They had been crying out in grief over fate and injustice, and the world finally, for the first time, heard their cries.

       It turned out that besides mountains and seas they had not seen, there were also sufferings they had not seen. Thousands of miles apart, they made you unable to bear to look, to listen, or to believe.

       Ripples rose on the surface, while beneath the water a deadly struggle raged.

       Baolijian’s PR team had already lost control; Kuangmu Group’s attempt to manage the situation had little effect, and the Zhao family began to apply top-down pressure. But unexpectedly, this pressure proves ineffective in the short term.

       At this critical moment, the long-dormant “Major H City Line 6 Subway Collapse Incident” was thrust into public view. Corruption, dereliction of duty, illegal bidding, layers of collusion, and falsified casualty figures behind the accident were exposed. More than a dozen Zhao-affiliated officials were taken away by the Discipline Inspection Commission*, and Zhao Siyuan, the Zhao family’s person in charge in H City, was among them.

       The public’s fury was fully ignited; the targets of outrage were not only Baolijian but also Kuangmu and the entire Zhao family.

       Events began to slip from control.

       Zhao Dongsheng, still reeling from the sudden loss of his son, was overwhelmed by a barrage of bad news. He glanced at Zhao Jinchuan lying on the mortuary table and was about to leave when Fang Huiyun grabbed him. She trembled and wept, asking, “Where are you going? Your son is dead — where are you going? Your son was killed, murdered! Why do you not shed a single tear?” She sobbed so hard she could hardly breathe. “Such a good child, how could they treat him like this? That animal… does he think death by suicide will make it all go away? I will make sure he never finds peace…”

       “Enough!” Zhao Dongsheng suppressed his anger and said in a low voice. “You go home first. I still have things to handle.”

       “You are not allowed to leave! Don’t go anywhere…” Fang Huiyun, eyes streaming, gripped his hand and pressed it onto Zhao Jinchuan’s. “He is your flesh and blood. When he was alive, you never truly spent time with him. Now you still want to abandon him?”

       When Zhao Dongsheng touched that cold, lifeless hand, he recoiled as if bitten by a snake and snapped, his face sullen, “What use is all this crying and yelling? Will it bring him back? Do you know what the situation is? Someone has targeted our Zhao family!”

       “Your son is dead, and you only care about the Zhao family?” Fang Huiyun stared at him in disbelief. “Jinchuan did everything to get you to notice and approve of him… In your heart, did you ever treat him as your real son?”

       “What nonsense are you spouting?” Zhao Dongsheng bit his teeth. “Who was behind what happened to Jinchuan, which opportunists were fishing in troubled water—none of that has been investigated! What’s the use of just crying?”

       Fang Huiyun, desolate, leaned over to cradle Zhao Jinchuan’s face and cried, “You go… You go investigate, handle your big affairs, protect the Zhao family. You have other children, but I have only this one child. I will stay here with him.”

       Zhao Dongsheng sighed in frustration, told his secretary Yue Zhong to arrange the funeral matters, and then left with a grim face.

       Zhao Jinchuan looked peaceful and calm on the mortuary table, like a sleeping angel. Fang Huiyun stroked his face again and again; tears kept falling. After a moment of silence she grit her teeth and asked, “Who else is in that killer’s family?”

       Yue Zhong checked the files and answered, “There is an eight-year-old daughter; she attends J City Elementary School No. 2.”

       “Bring her to me.” Fang Huiyun wiped her eyes and said in a dark tone, “My son is dead; his daughter should not live either.”

       “I will find someone to handle it immediately.” Yue Zhong replied with his eyes lowered.

       

       Qin Mu was startled when he saw the news of Zhao Jinchuan’s death. He stared at the suspect’s name, “Sun Mougao,” in a daze for a moment, then began searching for related information.

       The more scattered details he pieced together, the heavier his heart grew.

       He turned on his computer and opened the backup files of the Baolijian case that Zhou Yi had sent him, stopping on a page containing the registration form of the parties involved.

       Sun Jiangao, male, 39 years old, from J City. His wife, Wang Xiaoru, experienced abnormal liver function after taking two courses of Baolijian, later developing hepatomegaly and ascites…

       This was a record made by Teacher Xiao. After Qin Mu organized the materials, he had contacted him using the phone number listed there.

       It had only been a few days ago.

       At that time, Sun Jiangao said on the phone that he no longer intended to sue. When Qin Mu pressed for the reason, he said he could not afford to wait for fairness any longer.

       What had he been thinking then? Murder for revenge?

       Sun Jiangao had previously filed lawsuits and had gone to many departments to report the situation. The people from Baolijian had long listed him as a high-priority target to monitor. How had he managed to slip into Zhao Jinchuan’s private club? Zhao Jinchuan’s visit to the club yesterday had been a sudden decision, so how had it happened that Sun just happened to be scheduled for cleaning at that particular time? And from the murder to his suicide, why had every step gone so precisely and so smoothly? Had he thought about how his young daughter would live alone after his death? Was he not afraid of the Zhao family’s retaliation?

       Qin Mu did not believe it.

       A man who had loved his wife deeply, a father who insisted on carrying the family no matter how bitter or difficult life became—how could such a man abandon his child and go to his death with such finality?

       The only possibility was that his affairs after death had already been arranged, arranged in a way beyond his own ability, something that allowed him to close his eyes in peace. This had not been a crime of passion committed in the heat of the moment, but a final decision made after careful thought.

       Who had orchestrated all of this, placing the knife in his hand and pushing him into Zhao Jinchuan’s room?

       Qin Mu recalled Shen Liu’s expression from the previous night.

       It had been killing intent.

       A surging, bone-chilling killing intent.

       Qin Mu felt all the blood in his body go still, a suffocating pressure making it hard to breathe. He tilted his head back and covered his eyes with the back of his hand.

       

       Shen Liu had been busy the entire day and returned only very late. Two middle-aged men followed beside him, one tall and one short. The three of them talked as they walked toward the study. When they pushed the door open and saw Qin Mu sitting inside, their conversation stopped. Shen Liu spoke to the two men in a low voice, “Go take care of it.” The two nodded and left.

       Shen Liu walked in, loosened his collar a little, poured himself a glass of water, and asked, “You’re not asleep this late. Were you waiting for me?”

       “Yes.” Qin Mu closed the book in his hands. “I have something to ask you.”

       Shen Liu finished the water in one breath and sat down on the sofa beside him. “What do you want to ask?”

       “Was it you who sent Sun Jiangao?” Qin Mu looked at him as he spoke.

       “Who?” Shen Liu tilted his head in confusion.

       Qin Mu’s gaze darkened. He stood up and walked toward the door.

       Shen Liu frowned, stood up, and grabbed his arm. In a flash of realization, the name came to him. “You mean the one who killed Zhao Jinchuan?”

       Qin Mu turned his head and stared at him expressionlessly. “You arranged it?”

       Shen Liu was silent for a few seconds, then answered, “Yes.”

       Qin Mu felt his voice become a little unsteady. “What condition did you offer him?”

       “That his daughter would never have to worry about food or clothing, and would grow up safe,” Shen Liu replied.

       Everything matched what Qin Mu had expected. A coldness surged up from the soles of his feet, impossible to resist. He spoke with difficulty, “You bought his life with that?”

       Shen Liu opened his mouth, seeming as though he wanted to say something, but in the end he did not. He slowly released his hand. He looked somewhat tired as he turned and sat back on the sofa. He looked up at Qin Mu and asked, “A fair exchange, both sides willingly agreed. What is the problem?”

       Qin Mu’s eyelashes trembled slightly as he lowered his gaze. “That was a human life.”

       “To me, he was only a chess piece.” Shen Liu’s expression was extremely indifferent, like a god on a high altar whose joy and anger could not be discerned. “I have many such pieces. I do not need to remember their names or their faces. I only need to calculate their value, offer the necessary chips, and let them be used by me. I am not a kind person, and I do not walk a righteous path, because kindness and righteousness cannot survive in my world. In truth, I am no different from Zhao Jinchuan. If it serves my purpose, I too will use any means.”

       These were words that should not have been said. At least, not at this moment.

       After being apart for so long, their worlds had already grown into two realms that no longer fit together. Both of them had always been aware of this, which was why, when their values collided, they would subconsciously avoid the clash—especially Shen Liu. Yet today, he did not know why he suddenly lost control.

       Maybe it was the exhaustion of having to control everything. Maybe it was the weight of too much pressure. Or maybe it was because he was trying to hide too many fears and uncertainties.

       Qin Mu did not say anything. He simply stood there without moving. The tall bookshelf behind him made his figure look exceptionally solitary.

       The sight of it struck Shen Liu like a sharp pain. He regretted it, and he suddenly had an impulse to stand up and pull that man into his arms. But it was at that moment that Qin Mu spoke. His voice was very soft, a little hoarse, like clouds scattered by the wind.

       “In your eyes, how much is my life worth?”

       Shen Liu froze.

       Qin Mu turned and left.

       Shen Liu sat for a while, then irritably ran his hand through his hair and leaned his head back against the sofa with exhaustion. His phone vibrated. After reading the message, he immediately stood up, knocking over the copy of ‘Being and Nothingness’ that had been resting on the arm of the sofa.

       The book fell to the floor, and the paper tucked inside slid out, showing a yellowed corner.

       It was something hidden away, a memory forgotten over the long years. It had been pressed flat and neat for so long that, had it not happened to fall out at that moment, it would have looked like just another page of the book.

       A handwritten old contract.

       Party A: Shen Lan.

       Party B: Shen Liu.

       I hereby promise that if Party A fulfils the following conditions, I, after completing my undergraduate studies, will follow Party A’s arrangements to study abroad. The country, university, and field of study will be decided by Party A…

       Shen Liu suddenly crushed the paper in his hand.

       Qin Mu… had known.

---

Notes from author:
*Fictional Chinese herbal medicine
*Fictional Organisations

T/N:
Usuallyyy, when the ‘bad guy’ dies this early, it means that he’s not the final boss/problem in their relationship.. Especially with that kind of anticlimactic death

---

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       Zhou Lixing instantly put on an animated expression. He raised his thumb and exclaimed, as if injected with adrenaline, “The Mighty General’s golden spear never falters in his battle against two women! Impressive, impressive.” As he spoke, he stood up and unobtrusively gave up his seat. “Come, come, rest a bit and fight again later.”

       The Zhao family held great power, and everyone in the room rushed to flatter and echo him, their praise and fawning flying in unison.

       Qin Mu glanced at Shen Liu. The man drank a sip of wine without revealing any emotion.

       Zhao Jinchuan very much enjoyed being the centre of attention. His gaze swept lazily around the room. When it landed on Shen Liu, the smile on his face faded. He narrowed his eyes slightly and slapped the girl’s butt. “Go up and perform something to liven things up for everyone.”

       The two girls had kept their heads lowered in shame since they came in. At this moment, they exchanged a look, revealing panic and helplessness. They were members of a girl group with a bit of fame, introduced by a familiar senior ‘sister’ to accompany guests for the first time. Originally, being noticed by Zhao Jinchuan made them feel rather pleased. Who would have thought it would turn into a three-way? And this Zhao guy, high on drugs, had been extremely rough, never caring about their feelings, treating them like toys to be tossed around as he pleased. It hurt terribly. Afterwards, he mocked them, saying that since they wanted to be idols, they needed to learn how to show their bodies, and did not allow them to wear clothes. That on its own was already humiliating enough, but in the end, they had come of their own accord, and the Zhao family’s power was right there, so they had no choice but to swallow their resentment.

       Yet now he wanted them to perform naked in front of so many people. This truly treated them as if they were not human.

       The short-haired girl spoke in a strained, tiny voice, pleading, “Young Master Chuan, my body is not feeling very well, could we… rest a little?”

       Zhao Jinchuan tilted his head, as if he had not heard clearly. “What did you say?”

       She awkwardly moved a bit closer, covering her private parts with her hand and forcing a smile. “Could we rest for a while and accompany you again later?”

       He stared at her, his voice dragging lazily. “Ah, tired, are you?”

       The girl watched his expression and carefully nodded.

       “Sure, why not?” Zhao Jinchuan casually shook his bathrobe, rolled up his right sleeve, and picked up a bottle of liquor from the coffee table.

       A dull ‘thud’ sounded. The short-haired girl collapsed sideways, fresh blood seeping from her forehead. The long-haired girl beside her screamed in fright, her face turning deathly pale as she fell to the floor.

       The change happened without warning, shocking everyone.

       Everyone present froze.

       Qin Mu had never expected Zhao Jinchuan to suddenly shoot a girl this brutally. His entire body tensed instantly. Just as he was about to stand up and stop him, someone held him down.

       Shen Liu placed his hand on his shoulder, appearing to embrace him, but in fact exerting force. His voice was low. “Do not move.”

       Qin Mu turned his face to stare at him, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

       Shen Liu’s gaze calmly faced forward. His whole figure was shrouded in shadow beneath the lights, looking like a distant sculpture, indifferent and cold-blooded.

       Only he himself knew that it was him escaping.

       He could not meet Qin Mu’s eyes.

       For years, Shen Liu had crawled through the mud, filthy from head to toe, and even his heart was black. He never thought of himself as any sort of decent person, nor did he care how others saw him. Only Qin Mu… that gaze to him was like a blade pressed to his throat, able to make him lose his composure, abandon his purpose, surrender without resistance.

       Here, Qin Mu was like an isolated island, and he was the fisherman wandering the sea, watching that island from afar but not daring to take even one step onto it.

       “Still tired, hmm?” Zhao Jinchuan’s voice was gentle enough to raise goosebumps, but his movements were vicious and violent. One hand gripped the girl’s neck, while the other lifted the bottle and smashed it against her body. His expression was unusually excited, a ferocious light in his eyes. The girl screamed with tearing agony. Her face was covered in blood, the flesh at the corner of her eye split open, one side of her cheek sunken inward. Her cheekbone had shattered.

       When Zhao Jinchuan released her, she used what little strength she had left to crawl toward the door, only to be kicked to the ground.

       “Aren’t you tired? Today, I’ll make sure you get plenty of rest.”

       “I was wrong… Young Master Chuan… please spare me, I beg you…” Her voice trembled violently, weak and desperate.

       Zhao Jinchuan kicked her hard in the abdomen, then, still unsatisfied, delivered two more to her ribcage. After that, he grabbed her hair like one would a chicken, dragging her upright. Under the pressure of his strength, she could not resist or evade at all. She screamed in pain and, in her panic, grabbed onto the leg of another hostess, crying, “Help me, help me… please…” The hostess recoiled in fright, pulling her leg back without saying a word.

       No one moved. It was as if everyone’s face wore a pale mask, hiding their indifference or fear. They knew Zhao Jinchuan was committing violence. Yet to these distinguished guests, no matter how much disgust or contempt they felt inside, there was no need to stand up and intervene. After all, it was just a trivial matter. To offend the Zhao family for a woman who sold herself for fame, whose name they could not even remember, was not worth it.

       Conscience had retreated before self-interest, and silence had become the most lavish praise for the abuser.

       Qin Mu felt cold. It was as if ice had formed inside his chest, and even his body trembled uncontrollably.

       At this moment, he seemed to have returned to that cold disciplinary room, in front of the window with iron bars. The distant cry of that young boy travelled across time and overlapped with this girl’s screams. The forgotten fear, pain, and despair tightened around his throat like the hand gripping the girl’s neck, choking him, leaving him unable to breathe.

       Shen Liu sensed something was wrong and turned his face.

       He saw those blood-red eyes.

       In shock, he loosened his grip, and the person bolted out like a leopard.

       The next second, Zhao Jinchuan took a solid punch to the face and was slammed hard onto the floor.

       Everyone was stunned, the room erupting into gasps of shock.

       Shen Liu’s breath paused for two seconds. He lowered his raised arm and closed his eyes briefly.

       He could not stop it.

       Qin Mu was already consumed by fury. He moved fast, and his aim was precise, pinning Zhao Jinchuan down and striking his face again and again. His fists did not only fall on a bully who preyed upon the weak, but also on the murderer of Teacher Xiao. Rage shattered his reason. Each blow was heavier than the last. When people finally pulled him back, Zhao Jinchuan’s nose and lips were bleeding, his face bruised and swelling, his head spinning so badly he could not even stand.

       “What the hell…” Zhou Lixing sobered instantly, eyes wide, cursing halfway before remembering that this reckless man was one of Shen Liu’s people. He forcibly swallowed the rest of the words and turned to Shen Liu. “What is this?”

       “fvck…” Zhao Jinchuan was helped up. He took a long while to recover from the dizziness, then glared viciously at Qin Mu. “You have guts. You actually laid hands on me. If I don’t make sure you die here today, I won’t be surnamed Zhao.”

       “You should be surnamed Beast.” Several people restrained Qin Mu, yet he did not struggle. His expression was blank as he spoke. “Only animals hit women.”

       This sentence made everyone’s heart tremble. Zhao Jinchuan was an illegitimate child, and before he was allowed into the Zhao family, he had followed his mother’s surname for a period. This was his greatest taboo. Once, a hostess had called his surname wrong, and ended up blinded in her right eye. Yet today this man dared to run his head straight into the barrel of the gun. He must have been tired of living.

       “I’ll kill you!” Zhao Jinchuan, dishevelled and furious, suddenly shoved aside the people supporting him. He grabbed a wine bottle and lunged toward Qin Mu. But just as he stepped forward, the coffee table beside him seemed to sprout legs and slide sideways to block his path. The bottle and glasses crashed to the floor with a loud, shattering noise.

       The man who caused the commotion lowered his leg, sitting steadily on the sofa with his hands resting lightly. His gaze swept over the people restraining Qin Mu, and he said lightly, “Let go.”

       The tone was commanding, carrying a chilling coldness.

       They all released him at the same time.

       “Ha.” Zhao Jinchuan shifted his gaze from Qin Mu to Shen Liu. “I wondered who had the guts. So someone is backing him.”

       “He is someone I brought. He disrupted everyone’s fun tonight, truly my apologies.” Shen Liu spoke at an unhurried pace. “It is his first time coming to a place like this. He has no worldly experience. He did not know Young Master Zhao had such unique tastes, and got carried away. I will take him back later and discipline him properly.” The words sounded proper and polite, as if he were apologising, but the tone was perfunctory. If examined closely, that ‘apology’ was not even directed at Zhao Jinchuan. It carried no sincerity at all.

       “Hey, just a misunderstanding.” The host, Zhou Lixing, hurried to smooth things over. “Jinchuan, this guy came for the first time, didn’t know it was you. Just an accident, just an accident…” The Shen and Zhao families had always been at odds, fighting for power. The Zhou family stayed on the sidelines and did not want to get involved. But the final winner between the two was still uncertain. He could not afford to offend either side. Something like this happening in his place, he only wished to settle it quickly.

       Zhao Jinchuan wiped the blood at the corner of his mouth. His face was dark. “You think one apology settles this?”

       Shen Liu raised his eyebrows and looked at him, asking coldly, “Otherwise?”

       “I said he’s not leaving this room tonight.” Zhao Jinchuan’s eyes gleamed with killing intent.

       Shen Liu’s lips curved slightly, as if he had heard a joke. His smile was provocative and mocking. “Do you get to decide that?”

       Zhao Jinchuan’s expression changed.

       Shen Liu had always been low-key for years, rarely showing off. He kept it somewhat polite, no matter who he met. Whenever the Zhao family was involved, he always stepped aside gracefully and never caused trouble. Yet today, he stood firm in direct confrontation.

       For him?

       Zhao Jinchuan looked carefully at the man who had hit him, his pupils contracting.

       “…Everyone is just here to have fun, let’s not get angry over this.” Zhou Lixing felt like his head was splitting, believing himself to be nothing but a big unlucky fool caught between monsters. Zhao Jinchuan was notoriously difficult, and Shen Liu was no gentler. Every major move the Shen family had made in recent years had traces of him. Not only that, Shen Liu had also supported many juniors and branch members, becoming the core of the next generation. If these two monsters really fought, would his small establishment be left standing? He wished he had passed out with a cigarette earlier. He scrambled to mediate. “Go, go carry the girl out. Hurry and call someone to check on Jinchuan’s face.” Then he moved to support Zhao Jinchuan. “Jinchuan, sit, calm down, give me some face. Look…”

       “Who do you think you are?” Zhao Jinchuan slapped his hand away in disgust. His tone was vicious. “Me coming here today was already giving you face. And you dare join up with Shen and try to screw me? Take a piss and look at yourself. Do you think you deserve to call me brother?”

       Zhou Lixing’s forced smile collapsed.

       “This sounded really familiar.” Shen Liu spoke slowly. “Your Zhao brothers seem to say this a lot.” When he insulted people, he liked to do it in a roundabout way, yet every word stabbed right into the heart, precise and ruthless.

       Zhao Jinchuan’s face went dark. “Shen Liu, you think I can’t deal with you, is that it?”

       Shen Liu could not be bothered to bicker with someone like him and stood up to leave.

       “Maybe I can’t deal with you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t deal with him.” Zhao Jinchuan laughed behind him, voice shaded with poison. “I just recognized him. Isn’t he that lawyer who kept chasing after me? What was the surname again, Qin? I heard he was your first love. No wonder you’d go to so much trouble to protect him. How touching.” His gaze fixed on Qin Mu like a serpent. “Lawyer Qin, does the law say debts should accrue interest? Next time you fall into my hands, it won’t just be losing a finger. I don’t like riding men, but my dogs aren’t picky. As long as there’s a hole to use, they’ll enjoy themselves. I’m sure you’ll let them have plenty of fun.”

       Qin Mu did not respond to him. He only lightly dr4p3d the bathrobe in his hands over the injured girl. The girl seemed faintly conscious and looked at him from the bloody mess of her face.

       Shen Liu stopped walking.

       He stood in silence, his eyes carrying a cold, clear light under the lamp. It was as if a wicked god had slowly opened its eyes in the darkness, and a storm of violent, overwhelming hostility surged through his entire being. His voice was icy, “Zhao Jinchuan, you think far too highly of yourself.”

       A sudden sense of unease rose in Qin Mu. Shen Liu wrapped his arm around him and guided him out.

       As they passed by Zhou Lixing, Shen Liu patted his shoulder. Zhou Lixing only nodded and said nothing. Behind them, Zhao Jinchuan shouted arrogantly, “We’ll see.”

       

       The two of them got into the car together. Shen Liu seemed to have something important to handle and had been on the phone the whole time. When he finally paused to drink some water, Qin Mu spoke quietly, “I’m sorry.”

       Shen Liu screwed the bottle cap back on. “What are you apologizing for?”

       “I disrupted your plan and caused trouble for you.”

       “You knew it would cause trouble, but you still couldn’t hold back.”

       Qin Mu paused, then answered, “The girl would have died.”

       Shen Liu let out a small laugh. “So you are apologising to me for doing something right?”

       “I don’t think saving her was wrong. But the consequences of my actions shouldn’t fall on you. That is what I need to apologise for.”

       “You are not apologising because I bore the consequences. You are apologising because before you even acted, you already assumed I would bear the consequences for you. What you feel guilty about is using me.” Shen Liu was like a demon who could pry open the human heart, easily digging out the hidden desires buried deep within.

       Qin Mu fell silent, the tips of his ears turning red.

       He was in the wrong, and he acknowledged it.

       “Qin Mu.” Shen Liu spoke slowly. “In your value system, that girl’s life was placed first. In mine, the original plan was placed first. That was why I stopped you at the start. But regardless of what the original plan was, my reason for doing everything was only to…complete my deal with you.” In the brief pause, it felt as if he changed what he meant to say. “I have walked all the way here with this blackened heart so that I would no longer be under anyone’s control. Offending Zhao Jinchuan is nothing. I don’t mind you using me in this way. I am very willing.”

       Qin Mu felt as if his chest had been stuffed with cotton, soft yet heavy, suffocating him so much he could not speak. He stared at Shen Liu for a moment, then looked away.

       They sat in silence when the driver suddenly shouted, “Careful!” Before either of them could react, the force of a sharp turn threw both of them to one side. The edge of the car scr4p3d along the guardrail with a harsh screech of metal. Fortunately, the driver reacted quickly and, with a tail-swing manoeuvre, narrowly avoided the car that had suddenly tried to ram them. Only the rear of the vehicle was dented. The driver muttered “Someone is blocking us” while stepping hard on the accelerator and turning down a side road.

       When Qin Mu recovered, he realised he had instinctively wrapped his arms tightly around Shen Liu, shielding him.

       It had been a reflex in the face of danger, without thought and without hesitation. Precisely because of that, it was even more embarrassing.

       He let go, grabbed the handle, and asked, “What do we do?”

       “Put your seatbelt on.” Shen Liu said with a faint smile amid the violent jolt of the car. “If we die together, does that count as dying for love?”

       Qin Mu: “…”

       At a time like this, this man could still joke around. He really wanted to sew that crow’s mouth shut.

       Qin Mu had never ridden a roller coaster before, and this time he truly experienced what it felt like to fly. He was flung around until he was dizzy and seeing stars, nearly to the point of throwing up. When the car rushed the wrong way into a one-way lane, several black Jeep Wranglers sped past them. After that, the speed slowed down, and a few Mercedes from their side closed in around them.

       “Are we safe now?” Qin Mu asked, pressing down the churning in his stomach.

       “Mm.” Shen Liu knew he was uncomfortable, so he twisted open the bottle cap and handed the water over. “Drink a little.”

       Qin Mu took it and drank two mouthfuls, caught his breath, then noticed Shen Liu making a phone call as if nothing had happened. He couldn’t help thinking: Why was he so calm? Was he already expecting this, or… was he simply used to dealing with situations like this?

       On the other end, someone seemed to be reporting something. Shen Liu listened quietly, without any expression on his face. In the end, he just said, “Take care of his family,” and hung up.

       “That was Zhao Jinchuan’s people who rammed us?” Qin Mu couldn’t help asking.

       “Mm.”

       “Madman.” He frowned. “What are you going to do about it?”

       “Tit for tat.”

       His answer was brief. Qin Mu knew it was not convenient to ask in detail, so he changed the subject. “What were you originally planning to talk to him about today?”

       “To apologise and ask him to let you off.” Shen Liu saw the strange look on Qin Mu’s face and couldn’t help but laugh. “I was planning to use that as an excuse to give him the land in Rongcheng. He’s unfamiliar with real estate and is currently fighting for equity. If he has a buyer lined up, he’ll be able to cash out quickly. The person I planted at his side would alter the land documents, fabricate a special contract, then incite a large number of relocated villagers to stir up trouble. That way, I could justifiably pin him with the charge of illegally reselling land-use rights, and while I was at it, dig up his old dirt from above.”

       Qin Mu stayed silent for a moment, then said, “So now…”

       “I’ve switched to another plan.” Shen Liu’s gaze grew cold. “Someone like him isn’t worth the time and effort it would take to toy with him.” The car came to a stop. He reached out to smooth Qin Mu’s hair. “We’re home. Get out.” 

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       This stretch of road was not long. The car passed through the financial district and turned into a quiet villa community hidden within the bustle. Just before the door opened, that hand withdrew from Shen Liu’s palm. The man pushed his hair back and opened his eyes. His gaze was clear, as though the effect of the alcohol had faded entirely.

       The building ahead glowed with bright lights, looking very much like the dollhouses little girls loved. A security gate was set up at the garden’s entrance, and several sturdy bodyguards stood on either side, wrapped in coats, their expressions stern.

       “No electronic devices are allowed inside.” After Shen Liu said this, he very naturally reached into Qin Mu’s pocket, took out the phone, and tossed it along with his own to Tao Ze. Tao Ze put the phones away and retrieved two boxes from the trunk. Qin Mu noticed that one of them had his name on it and asked, “What is this?”

       “A gift for the ‘staff,’ which works as your entry pass.” Shen Liu was rarely amused to see him this puzzled. “You can open it and take a look.”

       Inside was a finely packaged handbag, an orange Hermès, clearly expensive. “It seems these ‘staff’ are not providing ordinary services,” Qin Mu said, closing the lid. “Any rules I need to know?”

       Shen Liu smiled. “Just stay with me and don’t let anyone lure you away. Let’s go.” Then he took long strides toward the entrance. Tao Ze handed the boxes to the event’s floor supervisor. Shedding his goofy manner from earlier, he straightened his expression and said with a calm expression, “Mr Qin is the guest invited by our President Shen.” Then he took out a stack of red envelopes. “Cold night, hard work. Have some tea later.”

       “Thank you, President Shen, for thinking of us. Please, this way.” The man, accustomed to receiving guests, smiled warmly and signalled for the staff to take the two name-labelled gifts inside.

       Qin Mu followed Shen Liu in. The atmosphere inside and outside felt like two different seasons. The rush of warm air drove away the chill, fogging Qin Mu’s glasses. A server led them to a changing room, where two women dressed in black silk bustiers and sheer stockings approached, their voices sweet as they asked whether they needed assistance changing.

       “No.” Shen Liu answered, then added, “He doesn’t either.”

       The bunny girls immediately placed two men’s robes to the side and stepped back obediently.

       “A public bathhouse?” Qin Mu raised an eyebrow.

       “Yes. I’ll scrub your back later,” Shen Liu said with a faint curve to his brows. “No need to wear the robe. Just take off your jacket and sweater. Your jeans already have enough holes. You won’t be hot.”

       “Then what was the point of having me change clothes?” Qin Mu asked, face expressionless.

       “Obviously, so I could enjoy the view.” The scoundrel was entirely shameless.

       The two of them, lightly dressed, followed an attendant upstairs. When the door opened, they were met with noise and revelry. Dimmed lights and a low, hoarse melody created a sticky, sultry atmosphere.

       The lively large-scale event had clearly finished. The high ceiling was packed with balloons, and the ribbons dangling down formed a curtain that cast shadows over the moving bodies. In the centre of the space was a huge glass ball pit. Men and women chased and played inside it, screaming, gasping, throwing balls at one another like a snowball fight. Most were completely naked; only a few still wore underwear or robes. Several voluptuous women leaned by the edge of the pit drinking, and when they saw Shen Liu and Qin Mu, they immediately came forward. Qin Mu noticed they all wore black silk ribbon chokers around their necks.

       Shen Liu very naturally wrapped his left arm around Qin Mu’s waist and waved his right hand slightly. The attendant immediately stepped up to block the women. They withdrew unwillingly and returned to where they had been.

       With his arm still around Qin Mu, Shen Liu led him up the spiral staircase.

       The view widened as they rose.

       In the ball pit below, there was a heavily made-up woman whose hair was being yanked by a middle-aged man as he thrust hard into her; a young girl who had slipped and was being pinned down by three or four men tugging off her underwear; a delicate-featured young man straddled and panting beneath someone; a man kneeling and licking at the semen spraying out in front of him; several people tangled together in unrestrained group sex. Many of them wore the same style of choker.

       “Those wearing collars are the so-called ‘service personnel’?” Qin Mu asked.

       “Yes. They’re generally called ‘escorts’.” Shen Liu spoke in a low voice. “The theme of this kind of gathering is indulgence and intercourse. There are designated contacts who recruit different tiers of companions depending on the demand. The lower end includes MBs, escorts, and transactional partners. A bit higher are low-tier actors, singers, and internet personalities. The highest tier is more well-known, mostly from the entertainment industry. They get chauffeured here and are provided to the VIPs upstairs.”

       “And the payment is those gifts?”

       “The gifts are just tips. The host settles the actual payment separately based on their market value.” Shen Liu spoke while walking. “The gifts that the guests bring will all be piled together in a certain room. When everything ends, the escorts go inside and grab one item each. Whoever gets it keeps it. If someone’s gift gets left behind, that guest loses the privilege of attending future gatherings.”

       People would always choose something with higher value. To obtain the right to enter, the guests had to bring expensive gifts. Money naturally became the measure of qualification. This was a playground for the rich.

       “So high-end gifts are essentially the guests’ entry passes,” Qin Mu said.

       “That’s right.” Shen Liu nodded. “For the escorts, selling their bodies brings a generous reward, and it also lets them brush up against the edges of the upper class. They can expand their connections and gain more opportunities, so they eagerly pursue them. Some people even bribe the contact just for the chance to come.”

       Qin Mu looked down at everything below without expression.

       The revelry hadn’t stopped. Naked bodies tangled in the pink sea of balls, displaying raw sexual desire. It looked like some kind of absurd performance art, hinting that the so-called higher beings who saw themselves as the spirit of all creation were no different from the beasts of the wilderness. Qin Mu never thought desire was something ugly, but he had his own aesthetic and sense of cleanliness when it came to lust. He turned his gaze away.

       At the entrance to the third floor stood four bodyguards. They had likely been informed in advance that Shen Liu would be bringing someone, so they did not stop them. The man moved forward with practised ease and opened the door at the end of the hallway. A strange, irritating smell rushed into their noses.

       It was a small entertainment room, with a young man singing karaoke in front of a projector screen. Several men in their thirties sat on the sofas, each accompanied by a man or woman in a white collar. Qin Mu had seen some of their faces before in the media or online. The room was hazy with smoke, but it wasn’t the cigarette smoke he was familiar with. The expressions of the smokers were odd—some dazed, some excited, some half-asleep. Qin Mu’s brows drew together.

       It was marijuana.

       “Well, look who it is. Our busy, handsome, always-late Young Master Shen. What an honour. A grand welcome!” The man in the centre clapped with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. He tilted his head and said, “Go on, give Shen a seat!”

       No matter the occasion, strength determined position. Shen Liu’s arrival disrupted the original arrangement, and the others immediately stood and shifted aside, giving up the central spot. One man with a raspy voice called out, “You’re way too late. The after-show is almost over. You have to drink a penalty shot!”

       Shen Liu sat down on the sofa with Qin Mu at his side and picked up a glass. “How do we drink?”

       “Let Lixing decide. He’s the host tonight,” someone chimed in.

       The man who had clapped earlier staggered to his feet and pointed a finger at Shen Liu like he was righteously aggrieved. “I was the first to invite you. We even moved up the event just to match your schedule. And look at this, the flowers have already withered by the time you got here. You didn’t put me in your eyes at all. We’re done being friends today.” His speech slurred. “Let’s cut our ties! I, Zhou Lixing, and you, Shen Liu, from today on, our brotherhood is over! …Where’s my robe? Hm?”

       “You’re wearing it!” someone shouted.

       “Damn it, I’ve been looking for it.” Zhou Lixing yanked the sash off his bathrobe. The opening fell apart, revealing his naked body underneath. Everyone started cheering and hollering.

       Shen Liu laughed. “Since we’re severing ties, then I won’t drink.”

       “As if!” Zhou Lixing raised one finger, then thought a moment and raised another. “Three glasses. Drink all three, or it doesn’t count.”

       “That’s two.”

       “You’re the one who’s two! Drink!”

       Shen Liu didn’t bother arguing. He downed three glasses in a row. Someone, however, refused to let him off and shouted, “No way. We brothers can forgive you, but all these beauties and pretty boys have been waiting for you too. You owe them something.”

       “Fine. One red envelope each. Come find my secretary afterwards.” Shen Liu lounged against the sofa, arm dr4p3d over Qin Mu’s shoulder. In settings like this, his generosity never faltered, the red envelopes never dipped below five figures, and the room erupted in cheers.

       Zhou Lixing sat with legs spread wide, utterly unconcerned about his bare chest. He fished a thick joint from the metal box on the coffee table and offered it to Shen Liu. “Want a puff?”

       Qin Mu’s heart skipped. He lifted his eyes to the man beside him. Shen Liu stared elsewhere, yet seemed to feel the gaze; the hand on Qin Mu’s shoulder gave a subtle, reassuring squeeze. “You know I don’t touch that,” he told Zhou Lixing.

       “Boring.” The man lit the joint, clamped it between his lips, and turned his squinting gaze to Qin Mu. “Rare to see you bring someone. Introduce us?”

       “Qin Mu. My friend.”

       “Oh? What kind of friend?” Zhou Lixing pressed, curious.

       “The kind you’re thinking.” Shen Liu smiled.

       “Ha, damn. You come to my place and still bring your own? You think they are too low-class or not clean enough?” Zhou Lixing’s temper flared for no clear reason. He bit out each word. “If you like fresh meat¹virgins, I can get it—showbiz, influencers, male, female, whatever. From eighty years old down to eight years old, I can deliver. Don’t slap my face like this.”

       Shen Liu opened his mouth to reply, but Qin Mu, who had stayed silent until now, suddenly spoke. “Under fourteen years old, that’s r4p3.”

       Zhou Lixing blinked, not catching it. “What?”

       “Anyone who r4p3s a girl under fourteen is charged with r4p3 and punished severely.” Qin Mu recited evenly. “Article 236 of the Criminal Law.”

       Zhou Lixing froze, brain short-circuiting. He stared at Shen Liu.

       Shen Liu burst out laughing, palms up in mock helplessness. “See? I have to behave. He gets scary when he’s jealous.”

       “Jesus. Where’d you find this freak?” Zhou Lixing choked on a mouthful of dog food²a Chinese slang term for witnessing public displays of affection, took two hard drags, and slumped back to ride the high.

       Shen Liu looked at Qin Mu.

       Qin Mu looked back. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.

       It was the detachment of watching a fire from the opposite shore. He sat right there, yet felt oceans away—untouchable, powerless.

       Shen Liu knew those words had crossed Qin Mu’s line. Amid the orgy and the weed, Qin Mu had chosen silence, but he could not ignore Zhou Lixing casually tossing out the r4p3 of underage girls like small talk.

       In fact, this kind of thing was already commonplace in elite circles. ‘Just a dirty little kink’, ‘trying a new flavour’, ‘throw some cash and it’s done’—such lines were frequently heard. When everything could be bought off, the law lost its teeth. Wealth and power formed twin invincible shields, letting the privileged revel in freedoms above the rules.

       Qin Mu came from a plainer world. One bound by law, guided by morals, believing in fair pay for fair work, worshipping justice on a high altar. When Shen Liu dragged him into this absurd realm, he still clung stubbornly to his boundaries.

       Wrong did not become right by decoration, by blind obedience, or by indulgence.

       Yet he was an accomplice to the wrong.

       A filthy, shameful, base accomplice.

       A wave of unspeakable sorrow crashed through Shen Liu. He lowered his lashes, smiled, and crushed the feeling down.

       Zhou Lixing tumbled back from his cloud, voice lazy. “So what exactly are you here for today?”

       “To see you. It’s been too long.” Shen Liu’s answer sounded noble.

       “You’re the busy one. I’m just an idler now, free every day.” Zhou Lixing’s tone carried self-mockery. His half-brother had stolen the spotlight; he had been sidelined lately.

       “Getting busy is easy if you want it.” Shen Liu’s words held layers.

       Zhou Lixing’s eyes flickered. A cold clarity flashed through the haze, then vanished. He patted the woman beside him. “Go. Sing something.”

       Shen Liu did not speak again. The two of them sat in silence for a moment.

       The singer was from an idol talent show, and the vocal technique was quite good. The singer’s ethereal voice drifted through the murky air, light and ungraspable like flowing clouds.

       “…Let this breath of smoke rise, while my body sank down.
      I feared that tragedy would repeat itself in my fate, in my fate;
      The more beautiful something was, the less I could touch it.
      Even if a room was filled with dim lamps that could not shine through me,
      It could still reflect your heart.
      I could not open my eyes to watch destiny arrive,
      And then the sky surged with heavy clouds once again.”

       Zhou Lixing exhaled a thick cloud of smoke and looked languidly at the curling mist.

       “Did you know,” he murmured, “all I’ve ever wanted in this life is to die in a pile of cigarettes, alcohol, and women.”

       The way he spoke was completely different from his earlier noisy, raucous self. One could not tell which version of him was real.

       “Very poetic,” Shen Liu said with a small laugh. “A pity we don’t get to choose our lives.”

       “Exactly. None of us gets to choose.” He repeated softly.

       “Where is he?” Shen Liu asked.

       Zhou Lixing flicked ash from the thick joint in his hand, “He looks down on this little bit of fun of ours. Took something stronger and dragged a few people into one of the rooms inside to get high. If you hadn’t asked me to arrange this, I wouldn’t have dared invite him. I’m afraid once he gets carried away, someone might actually die.”

       “Given the current situation, he should be keeping a lower profile…” Shen Liu’s words had barely fallen when the door opened.

       A man wearing only a bathrobe, arms around two completely naked women, appeared in the doorway.

       Qin Mu’s gaze stopped on him.

       Zhao Jinchuan.

---

T/N:

In the conversation of

       “That’s two.”
      “You’re the one who’s two! Drink!”

It was actually a pun, in spoken slang (especially in Mainland Chinese colloquial speech), 二/two is used to mean ‘dumb’, ‘silly’, or ‘stupid’. 

Also, the song is from “Undercurrent” by Faye Wong, I think I saw a lot of titles using this song.. I think this song is very very popular

---

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      The rain fell in a soft, continuous drizzle.

       When Tao Ze pushed the door open to bring tea, Qin Mu was looking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, as if his attention had been drawn by the raindrops sliding down the glass. The light grew gentler beneath the curtain of rain, making even the expression on his face seem softened.

       “He left?” Qin Mu turned his head at the sound, his tone unsurprised, as though he had already expected it.

       Tao Ze paused, then answered, “Yes. President Shen had an urgent matter come up and left. He said he didn’t want to disturb you while you were reading, and told me to inform you.”

       He felt a bit guilty and silently cursed himself. Why the hell should he feel guilty? The one who should feel guilty was the bastard who caused trouble and ran away! A grown man like him did something this childish—did he not feel ashamed? As he thought of that, he instantly felt deflated. A big and full-grown man like him, actually acting as the errand boy for a childish idiot… that was the truly embarrassing part.

       He had already prepared ten thousand excuses to cover for Shen Liu, yet Qin Mu only replied with a simple “I know,” and returned to reading, not asking another word. Tao Ze let out a breath of relief and slipped out of the study.

       As Shen Liu’s exceptionally competent ‘close henchman’, he understood his master’s nature well—Shen Liu was a devil. Wearing a smile while consuming people’s hearts; polished and impeccable on the surface, and ruthless behind closed doors. But after spending these days together, Qin Mu gave him a completely different feeling. He was like an exiled immortal, clean and untouched, without worldly desires. He looked cold and distant, yet inside he carried a steady, gentle warmth. Even when upset, he would never make things difficult for someone unrelated.

       Qin Mu was such a ‘white moonlight’ off-in-the-heavens kind of immortal… and he had ended up being targeted by the devil. Truly tragic.

       Though, to be fair, this wasn’t entirely the devil’s fault. After all, the immortal had been the one to walk to the door himself.

       Even if this was the first time Tao Ze had met Qin Mu, he had long heard the name. From the day he joined the job, he knew that no matter how busy things were, Shen Liu would always review any news from City K at once. At first, Tao Ze thought it must be some unspeakable state secret, but later he learned that all of that news was about someone named Qin Mu.

       —What case had he taken, and how the trial went.

       —Which dinner party he attended, how much he drank.

       —How many subs he had taken in, and what the relationships were like.

       Everything was recorded, examined, and repeatedly scrutinised.

       Tao Ze had always wondered what kind of person could keep a demon king tethered for so many years. Shen Liu had had countless romantic rumours, yet when drunk to the point of collapse, he would always turn over and over, murmuring softly, “Little Log… Little Log…”

       He always looked careless and smiling, lively and sociable, yet in sleepless nights, he would repeatedly rub a plain, inconspicuous ring, lost in thought. Despite wielding the Shen family’s wealth and power, he would fall silent upon receiving certain updates from the informants in K City. His heart had always been pointed toward one place, yet he never allowed himself to cross the line.

       It was as if Shen Liu had placed himself upon a fire fueled by loneliness and longing, burning himself over and over again—using pain as both numbness and reflection. And now the person he had thought about endlessly was right in front of him. How could he possibly hold back?

       Looking at it this way, neither of them was less tragic than the other. Their sorrows were equally matched.

       Tao Ze looked down at the new message on his phone, and his expression darkened.

       From: “The Inhuman Boss.”

       —Is he mad?

       Tao Ze: “……”

       You two being tragic is your own business. Why drag me into it?

       Life as a corporate slave was really not easy.

 

       Shen Liu, who had made a mess and run off, only returned after dinner. He walked in while taking off his coat and tossed it to Tao Ze, asking, “Do I smell like alcohol?”

       “…It’s not too strong.”

       “Where is he? Has he eaten dinner?”

       “He already ate, he’s in the study. Lawyer Qin has been on video calls all afternoon.”

       Shen Liu frowned. “With who?”

       “People from the firm,” Tao Ze said. “Said it was a video conference to discuss a case, and since it involves client privacy, all unrelated personnel were strictly forbidden from entering. So I haven’t gone in since.”

       Shen Liu took two steps in three strides to the study door and knocked.

       “Come in.” Qin Mu was fully focused, fingers flying across the keyboard, not even raising his head.

       Shen Liu cleared his throat.

       Qin Mu glanced at him, then tossed out a “Sit first,” and continued working on his own.

       Shen Liu slouched onto the sofa, bored, and couldn’t help regretting how lust had clouded his judgment earlier, making him agree to let Qin Mu use his computer. Qin Mu when working was particularly enticing — the focused gaze, the cool expression, the straight posture, and the elegant line of his throat above the collar… The alcohol from earlier seemed to start causing trouble again, conjuring up seductive, lavish fantasies, forcing him to look away and make himself calm down.

       On the small table beside the sofa lay a thick book, Sartre’s Being and Nothingness. The cover was a little worn. It was an old copy Shen Liu had read in his youth. A bookmark was stuck about a quarter of the way in, clearly showing that Qin Mu had been reading it. Shen Liu picked it up and flipped through it.

       “Human reality is characterised by what they lack, and the very existence of desire in human action is enough to prove this. If one attempts to understand desire as a psychological state, that is, as a mode of being whose nature is simply to be what it is…”¹Sartre, Being and Nothingness, Sanlian Publishing House, p.124

       Shen Liu let out a helpless laugh.

       The desire born from this lack was right in front of him, yet he could do nothing. Like a dragon guarding a treasure chest, drawn in by the dazzling gold and unwilling to step away even half a step. As if he had put shackles on himself with his own greed, shackles he could not break free from.

       Tao Ze waited at the door for a long time and didn’t see either of them come out, so he found an excuse and brought in black tea. The study was peaceful: one sitting upright, working seriously, the other leaning lazily on the sofa while flipping through a book. Tao Ze could only quietly remind while refilling tea, “President Shen, the car is ready.”

       “Mhm.” Shen Liu lifted his eyes to glance at the man bent over the desk, then lowered them again. His voice was slow and unhurried, “Wait.”

       Tao Ze: “……”

       Weren’t you the one who said you were in a rush earlier? Now you don’t even dare to urge?

       He began to doubt whether he had misjudged everything. Could it be that Lawyer Qin was actually the one whose skills were hidden and far superior?

       Truly, one thing conquers another. Assistant Tao’s gaze at Qin Mu gained a new layer of admiration.

       Just then, Qin Mu shut his computer and stood up. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

       “No rush, it’s fine.” Shen Liu also closed the book and stood, looking especially magnanimous.

       Qin Mu looked at him and said, “Is wearing a suit appropriate for the occasion ahead? Or should I wear pyjamas for a grand surprise entrance instead?”

       The reckoning had arrived.

       Based on Tao Ze’s understanding of Shen Liu, the man would definitely play around now and dodge the issue with vague excuses. But instead, Shen Liu admitted fault without hesitation, “Sorry. I didn’t think it through at noon. I’ll go with you to change.”

       Secretary Tao had weathered storms and seen every kind of scene.

       But this scene… He had never seen it before. His eyeballs almost fell out.

       His boss actually… apologised properly?

       Qin Mu had never been someone who bothered dragging things out. Since the point was made, he let go and went with him to the dressing room. Tao Ze was left standing there, dazed, repeatedly trying to understand—what kind of relationship dynamic was this?

       Shen Liu chose a dark coffee-colored leather jacket and slim-fit jeans for Qin Mu, which looked cool. Qin Mu didn’t resist. Whatever was handed to him, he wore. Shen Liu used fingers still slightly sticky from styling gel to brush Qin Mu’s bangs back from his forehead, then hooked a finger under his chin and examined him for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “Unbelievable. A refined scoundrel.”

       Qin Mu slapped his hand away and straightened his slightly shifted glasses. “You?”

       Shen Liu picked a black leather jacket of a similar style—likely from the same designer. He gathered his hair back and tied it loosely, instantly shifting from corporate elite to nightclub boss.

       “How do I look?”

       “Remarkable. A beast in a gentleman’s clothing,” Qin Mu returned.

       Shen Liu laughed. “We match well. Let’s go.”

       The car was waiting in the underground garage. This time it wasn’t the usual Mercedes, but a strikingly conspicuous Rolls-Royce Cullinan. The driver was just about to get out to open the door when he saw Assistant Tao behind him, twisting his face and frantically waving his hands like he was having a seizure. The driver froze. In that brief moment, Shen Liu had already taken a step forward and opened the door for Qin Mu.

       Tao Ze let out a breath of relief. His face darkened as he patted the driver’s shoulder and quietly instructed, “Be sharp.” The driver instantly understood. So this was the boss’s honoured person. He immediately straightened up, all nerves on alert.

       From the rearview mirror, Tao Ze looked at His Majesty Shen and the Consort Qin sitting side by side in the back. He felt even more like a bitter eunuch of the imperial household. He muttered gloomily to the driver, “Depart… cough, I mean, let’s go.”

       “What were you busy with just now?” Shen Liu started the conversation.

       “A financial dispute,” Qin Mu answered.

       “If there’s a difficult part, you can tell me. I might be able to help.”

       “When you say ‘help,’” Qin Mu turned his head to look at him directly, “do you mean connections, money, or power?”

       The question was straightforward. Shen Liu paused for a second, then answered with equal directness, “I won’t deny that those methods sometimes achieve results more quickly.”

       “The ‘results’ you refer to — are they fair and law-abiding?” Qin Mu continued.

       “They can be.”

       Qin Mu remained silent for a long moment, then said, “Those very methods themselves violate fairness. Using unfair means to uphold fairness is no different from drinking poison to quench thirst. In truth, it only accelerates the collapse of fairness. When a person begins to rely on power, wealth, and connections, he should be wary of what might happen if he loses them one day. When an entire social class becomes reliant on them, then the nation as a whole should be wary. Because the people at the bottom will grow furious when they can no longer obtain fairness.” His voice was cold and low, as though he were deliberately suppressing some inexplicable emotion.

       Shen Liu stared into his eyes, trying to see something in them, but Qin Mu turned his gaze away. Shen Liu was silent for a moment, then said, “Absolute fairness exists only in utopia. The concentration of power inevitably produces privileged classes. You and I are both ordinary men who cannot change the world of mortals.”

       “You’re right,” Qin Mu said lightly. “I have always been a rigid and old-fashioned idealist.”

       “Then why are you angry?” Shen Liu asked. He knew very well that Qin Mu rarely showed emotion. His reaction here was almost uncharacteristic.

       “I am angry at myself for having neither the position nor the qualification to be angry. Only in myself. It has nothing to do with you.” Qin Mu lowered his eyes slightly, looking out the window at the wavering, blurred lights in the rain.

       Shen Liu broke that sentence apart in his mind and analysed it, but found no hint of a thread to follow. Coldly, he swept his gaze toward Tao Ze in the front seat.

       When the immortals quarrelled in the back, the two mortals in the front desperately pretended to be made of straw. Seeing that trouble might splash onto him at any moment, the innocent Tao Ze felt his hair stand on end. He shrank his shoulders up to his ears, silently declaring that he knew nothing and saw nothing.

       The car fell into silence, heavy with low pressure. The driver nervously turned on the radio to ease the atmosphere.

       “…

       Just walking in the rain, so alone and blue.

       All because my heart still remembers you.”²Just Walking in the Rain by Johnnie Ray

       The magnetic male voice repeated the tender lyrics, like raindrops falling onto the heart and rippling softly. Shen Liu had left his earlier social engagement in a rush and had been forced to drink quite a bit. The alcohol was starting to take effect now. He leaned back with closed eyes to rest. His mouth felt bitter, and he reached out, intending to find some water, when his hand brushed against the one Qin Mu had resting on the centre armrest. A thought flickered, and he gently placed his hand over Qin Mu’s.

       He had thought that the hand would immediately move away. But it didn’t. It remained there quietly, as if unaware of his overstepping.

       Their hands overlapped. Their warmth intermingled. Some unspoken feeling seemed to pass between them in that moment.

       “…

       Just walking in the rain, thinking how we met.

       Knowing things have changed, somehow I can’t forget.”

 

       Walking alone in the rain, remembering how we first met.

       Things flowed away like water, but you remained like a stone.

       So how could I ever forget you?

---

T/N:

Today’s footnotes provided by the author~

But here’s the link for the song, I looked for the original one Johnnie Ray – Just Walking in the Rain

---

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       As a lawyer, Qin Mu had dealt with no shortage of complicated situations over the years. Having seen the vastness of the seas, he naturally did not fear stepping into a muddy pit; even if he accidentally set a foot in one, he could still pull his leg out with dignity. He would not turn red in the face and flee just because of a bit of unclear, awkward circumstance. As for the person who dug the pit, there would always be a chance to ‘repay’ that in the future.

       Since it could not be explained clearly, he simply did not explain at all. Qin Mu’s gaze swept quickly around the room, pausing for a moment on a familiar face.

       Years had passed, but Shen Yan remained unchanged. His upright sitting posture was like a tall, solemn tree standing on a ridgeline. He was also looking at Qin Mu, with a flash of surprise that vanished just as quickly. Clearly, he had not expected to meet again here, but he accepted the situation almost immediately.

       Qin Mu did not greet him. He turned toward Shen Liu and said, “I’m going to change clothes first. You all start eating.” His demeanour was incredibly natural and open, showing no trace of embarrassment. He even seemed like another long-term host of this place. The guests could not help but begin forming their own guesses in private.

       “Alright,” Shen Liu replied with a smile. Others did not understand, but he did. If a gaze could kill, then in that brief moment of eye contact earlier, he would have already been reduced to ashes.

       While Qin Mu exited the scene with steady composure, on the other side, the Shen family elites, unable to suppress their curiosity, temporarily set aside their old grievances and formed an informal alliance to mine for gossip.

       “This lawyer looks quite capable,” Shen Rong said, smiling with a hidden implication.

       “Anyone Liu ge sets his sights on is naturally impressive,” Shen Xiao remarked, his words carrying undertones. “I wonder if he handles financial cases or personal matters?”

       Even the hungover Shen Li perked up, his grin insincere. “Liu ge, are you exploiting your employees? Forcing someone to work overtime all night? He didn’t even have time to change clothes.”

       Shen Anning sneered, “I heard some time ago that you and that plastic-surgery freak from the Xu family were hitting it off and about to get together. I thought that was true.”

       “Hitting it off is an exaggeration, but about to be married, that part was true,” Shen Liu answered casually.

       Shen Anning, who was the same sort as Shen Liu when it came to sharp tongues, spoke viciously enough to kill, “If you’re going to pick someone, at least pick someone that looks naturally pleasing. Her face is sculpted so much that her nose is about to puncture the atmosphere, a kiss could slice someone’s throat with that chin, and her chest shifts position the moment she lies down. What exactly do you see in her? The novelty of waking up to a new face every three days?” She and that Xu girl had never gotten along since childhood, and now that they were both over thirty, their mockery was still as cutting as ever.

       “It’s all an act. The partner doesn’t matter,” Shen Liu said lightly. “You’re not unaware of my preferences, are you?”

       Shen Anning choked on her retort.

       The others at the table also fell silent. They did, of course, know Shen Liu’s sexual orientation—but knowing was one thing, saying it openly in public was another. The Shen family had strict rules. They had understood from childhood that an egg could not crack a stone, and personality could not outweigh power. No matter how outrageous one was in private, one still had to maintain the proper facade in public.

       Like Shen Rong, no matter how many girlfriends he had, he could only bring that sickly fiancée to formal occasions.

       Like Shen Xiao, no matter how much he loved music, he would never be allowed to become a bassist.

       Like Shen Ting, no matter how much he hated hypocrisy, he still had to sit upright on the stage giving empty speeches.

       Like Shen Jiahe, no matter how young she was, would remain the lonely widow of a magnate until the family approved otherwise.

       Preferences, individuality, and sincerity—these were all peas hidden beneath the cushions, making only the one sitting on them uncomfortable. One could not take them out in public. That would break the rules.

       But today, Shen Liu had violated those rules outright. Not only had he stated it openly, he had also brought that person here in a legitimate, aboveboard manner. What did that imply?

       “You didn’t invite us just to meet him, did you?” The always-silent Shen Ting finally spoke.

       “We’ll discuss business after the meal,” Shen Liu replied, not in any hurry to reveal anything.

       “Then let’s eat first. I’m starving.” Shen Rong’s stomach had been growling for a while. “Is that lawyer friend of yours done changing? Don’t tell me he got shy and isn’t coming back?”

       “He wouldn’t,” Shen Liu said with a laugh.

       Sure enough, not long after he said so, the person appeared.

       The matching grey-blue suit fit snugly over his tall and upright frame, and the fully buttoned shirt collar appeared solemn and formal. The sunlight traced a faint golden outline along the edge of his glasses. The eyes behind the lenses were deep and sharp, as though they had quietly seen through everyone present. In formal wear, Qin Mu had a certain austere, solitary air that made others instinctively hold their breath.

       “Sorry to keep you waiting.” He walked slowly to the empty seat.

       Shen Liu stood up and pulled out a chair for him; after Qin Mu sat down, he introduced everyone one by one. These people were already the backbone of the family, and the strength of the capital behind them could be glimpsed from their lengthy titles.

       With Qin Mu present, and adhering to the principle that family disgrace should not be aired publicly, the Shen family members all restrained their words quite a bit. Shen Ting, seated nearby, made some small talk with him. Upon hearing that Qin Mu mainly handled economic cases, he asked two questions regarding financing. Qin Mu analysed them in an orderly and precise manner. Shen Liu joked, “His consulting fees aren’t cheap; remember to settle the bill on your way out.”

       “In that case, I’ll ask something else.” Shen Anning cut in. “When did Lawyer Qin and Liu ge meet?”

       “Many years ago,” Qin Mu answered vaguely.

       “From your accent, you’re from K City?”

       “Yes.”

       “I recall Liu ge attended university in K City.” Shen Anning was skilled at connecting dots. “The two of you were university classmates?”

       “Yes. He was my senior. He always took good care of me.” Qin Mu said, “I came to J City a couple of days ago to meet a client and ran into some trouble, so I had no choice but to trouble him. I stayed over here last night.”

       Just a few short sentences clearly explained why he had appeared earlier in sleepwear, and neatly distanced his relationship with Shen Liu.

       The shift from ‘ambiguous romantic involvement’ to ‘promising junior’ was so sudden that Shen Anning was stunned for a moment. All the critical probing questions she had prepared were blocked off at once. She had to switch to a softer line forcibly and tossed out a harmless question, “I heard my brother had someone he was crazy about back in university… What kind of person was that?”

       Back then, Shen Liu suddenly went off to study far away in K City and nearly cut off contact with all of them. Later, there were vague rumours that he once caused a huge stir over a certain ‘lover’, but it had been suppressed by his father, Shen Lan. The details were never clear. Shen Anning only asked out of curiosity, but by pure chance, the question struck directly at Qin Mu’s softest spot.

       Shen Liu made no move to help him, instead taking on the posture of an observer watching from the sidelines, calmly waiting to see how he would handle it.

       Qin Mu felt a headache coming on. Fearing he would create contradictions he could not patch later if he made up something too elaborate, he simply resorted to feigning ignorance, “I don’t remember.”

       Shen Liu gave him a dismissive look.

       The perfunctory tone was too obvious, and Shen Anning was dissatisfied. “It happened so long ago, and you still can’t tell me?”

       “If you’re so curious, why don’t you ask me?” Shen Liu asked.

       “You won’t tell me,” Shen Anning rolled her eyes at him.

       “He was someone very worthy of being loved,” Shen Liu said as he slowly lifted his eyes to look at Qin Mu, “the kind of person who makes you feel that even losing everything for him would be worth it.”

       Qin Mu continued cutting the beef on his plate without a change in expression, only his eyelashes trembling ever so slightly.

       Shen Anning snorted, “That’s the same as not saying anything.”

       Shen Rong’s mouth twitched. “Did you put too much Sichuan pepper in that beef? Why is it this making me teary?”

       “Liu ge is very devoted, that’s all,” Shen Li said with a mix of laughter and exasperation. “Why not get back in touch? Who knows, maybe the person is still single… and if not, well… You can always loosen the soil around the roots.”

       “It’s been so many years, he might be married by now.” Shen Xiao wiped his mouth with a napkin. “My first love is already a mother of two.”

       Failing to dig up any interesting gossip, Shen Anning turned to Qin Mu and asked, “Lawyer Qin, are you married?”

       “No.” Qin Mu set down his knife and fork politely.

       “Do you have a girlfriend?”

       “No.”

       “Oh? Single for a while or a staunch believer in remaining single??”

       “I just haven’t met the right person.”

       “Oh? Then what does Lawyer Qin think of me?”

       She was the bold type, the kind who often teased men until they didn’t know where to put their hands. This time, she even lifted her hair deliberately, showing off her allure.

       Qin Mu always treated others with cold indifference, and he turned people down without hesitation. But this one was Shen Liu’s younger sister, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to answer. His gaze couldn’t help drifting toward Shen Liu.

       Their eyes met; there was a clear smile in Shen Liu’s eyes.

       Qin Mu’s ears grew warm. Irritated, he averted his gaze.

       “You’re not suitable for him,” Shen Liu finally spoke to rescue him.

       Shen Anning raised an eyebrow with displeasure. “What’s not suitable about me?”

       “Your gender isn’t suitable.”

       The man slid the plate of beef he had already cut into small pieces over to Qin Mu, smiling as he said, “Your memory’s so bad. Eat more meat and help your brain.”

       Shen Anning stared for a moment, then immediately reacted with a soft “Oh.”

       Everyone at the table was a shrewd individual. At this point, what was there left not to understand? Their gazes toward Qin Mu shifted—complex, assessing, even a little stunned.

       So he was the old lover whom Shen Liu had once loved so deeply that he was willing to have his own legs broken over it.

       The stage Qin Mu had painstakingly set up was toppled in one kick. NLawyer Qin, whose performance had been cut short halfway through, sat motionless, eating his meat. If the beef weren’t so tender and juicy, he might have slammed the plate into that bastard’s face right then and there.

       Shen Anning, realising she had just dug up a years-old explosive scandal, was in an excellent mood. For these past years, Shen Liu had been like a machine—calculating and manoeuvring for the family, thunderous methods, razor-sharp efficiency, life nearly swallowed whole by work. Even his leisure time was just business disguised as entertainment. He looked put together, yet lifeless.

       Now, seeing the way he was with Qin Mu was like he had come back to life, and he was actually more agreeable. She wanted to tease him, but thinking of the many years they had loved and been forced apart, she suddenly couldn’t bring herself to do so.

       Jiahe was likely thinking the same. Usually silent, she intentionally opened her mouth to shift the subject, and soon the table drifted from financial storms to global politics. The meal progressed in a strange sort of harmony.

       Qin Mu guessed they had business to discuss and withdrew to the study.

       The others moved to the receiving hall, waiting for Shen Liu to speak.

       Tao Ze came in carrying a stack of envelopes and handed them out. Only Shen Anning and Shen Jiahe did not receive one.

       The moment Shen Rong opened his envelope, his face flushed in anger. “Shen Liu, are you insane?”

       The others’ faces didn’t look much better. Shen Ting frowned. “What is the meaning of this?”

       Shen Liu lounged lazily on the sofa, full from lunch, speaking unhurriedly, “I went to all this trouble collecting your little scandals. Obviously, they’re for leverage.”

       “What do you want us to do?” Shen Li asked. His face had gone pale—he clearly feared what was inside the envelope.

       “I want you to stand with me,” Shen Liu said.

       “You want to break off your engagement?” Jiahe asked softly.

       Shen Liu lowered his eyes and smiled. “Something that small isn’t worth all this effort.” He paused, then said, “I want to bring down the Zhao family.”

       He spoke the way one would when ordering food, but beneath it lay a mad, world-destroying force.

       The room froze in disbelief.

       Shen Yan’s heart lurched. He said instinctively, “The Old Man will never agree.”

       He was one of the few who knew about Shen Liu and Qin Mu’s past. He knew how deeply they had loved. From the moment he saw Qin Mu today, he had felt that trouble was coming. And now, at some subconscious level, he believed… There was no one left who could stop the present Shen Liu.

       “I had no intention of seeking his approval.” Shen Liu met his gaze, the smile at the corner of his lips deepening, showing a calm and effortless confidence. “It’s exactly because the Shen family has grown increasingly conservative over the years that the Zhao family has been able to keep expanding. The old man is old now, and the elders are content to guard their past achievements and live comfortably. When it finally comes time to fight for our position, we realise we can no longer outplay them. So, it’s time for the Shen family to change blood.”

       Not only did this bastard intend to overthrow the Zhao family, but he also wanted to overthrow his own family as well. No one had expected him to say something like that. The entire room was stunned.

       “You acting this recklessly will ruin the Shen family!” Shen Yan said urgently.

       “When the nest is overturned, how can any egg remain intact? The general election is coming soon. Everyone knows whether the Zhao family will have good days once they get into power. All the rotten accounts you have—if I could find them, the Zhao family could find them just as easily. Keeping your peaceful lives won’t be easy. The walls they build are not places where you can freely come and go.” Shen Liu spoke lightly. “Rather than being driven to a dead end and losing everything in disgrace, it’s better to break the cauldrons and sink the boats now, change the blood, and fight head-on. I do not need neutrality or ambiguity. Anyone who is not on my side is the enemy. I suggest you consider it carefully. With your current strength, your chances of winning against me are not good.”

       “So you’re forcing us to pick a side,” Shen Ting said.

       “That’s right.” Shen Liu smiled. “What I set today is a Hongmen Banquet¹banquet set up with the aim of murdering a guest. Either we form an alliance, or we break apart. You choose.”

       “Why is there no envelope for me and Jiahe?” Shen Anning asked. “I don’t believe you didn’t find anything on us.”

       Shen Liu was silent for a few seconds. “You two are the younger sisters I watched grow up. I wanted to ask for a favour from you, personally.”

       Shen Anning’s gaze shifted slightly. Her red lips curved, her smile tinged with resignation. “Calculating interests is one thing, and now you want to calculate feelings too. When have I ever not stood on your side?”

       Shen Jiahe pressed her lips together and spoke softly, “Back then, when they married me off to that old man, you were the only one who strongly opposed it. I told myself then that if you ever needed me in the future, I would stand by you unconditionally. All the assets under my name can be used by you, including the Shi family’s portion.”

       “Thank you.” Shen Liu slowly looked around at the others and said, “Although we are not deeply close, we are, after all, bound by blood. How we’ve fared these past years, what we’ve sacrificed—others may not know, but we all know very well. Unless there is absolutely no other choice, I do not want to use what’s in those envelopes to threaten you. I cannot guarantee we will win this war, but I can guarantee that if we do, you will no longer be the family’s puppets. You will become true power-holders, with the greatest possible autonomy.”

       He was truly skilled at understanding the human heart. The transition of power between old and new forces was a long one. For these younger ones, who held partial power yet still had to bow to the “emperors behind the curtain,” the temptation was enormous.

       Guns and roses, which side to choose?

       The hall fell utterly silent. Everyone was weighing and thinking.

       Shen Rong spoke first. He blew out a breath, annoyed. “Alright, fine. Isn’t it just joining in for a fight? I’ve hated those shameless Zhao bastards for a long time anyway. Just tell me what you need me to do. But—whatever’s in here, you have to cover it for me.”

       “No problem,” Shen Liu replied.

       With him leading, the others also stated their positions after some consideration. They were all people who competed at the top of their respective circles, sharp in judgment.

       When they were leaving, Shen Liu personally saw them to the door. Shen Yan stayed until the end and asked, “For him?”

       “For myself.” Shen Liu watched the birds playing in the branches and said, “I used to think that living life like this was fine. Just a few decades. Nothing much. But he was like a slap, waking me from a dream of being a living corpse. Yan ge, your identity is special, and you are one of the Old Master’s people. So I won’t force you to choose a side. Just observe.”

       “What, you’re not going to ask me for a favour?” Shen Yan asked. The envelope he had received contained only blank paper; they both understood what that meant.

       “You already helped me once back then. You told me that if I don’t yet have the power to resist, don’t make decisions I’ll regret. I have always remembered those words.”

       “And now, are you confident you’ll win?”

       Shen Liu smiled, but did not answer.

       Shen Yan sighed, patted his shoulder, and got into his car.

       In the rearview mirror, the villa grew smaller and smaller, looking from afar like a beautiful, delicate cage. Once, it had imprisoned the brightest puppet of the Shen family. Now that the puppet had died, the awakened beast had silently bared its fangs.

       Outside the car, the sun had disappeared behind the clouds at some point. Birds flapped their wings across the grey sky. The world sank into a swirling, oppressive gloom.

       The world was about to change.

---

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      Qin Mu lifted his eyelids. “Is that necessary?”

       “Know yourself and know your enemy, and you’ll never lose a hundred battles.” The man’s eyes curved, like a cat dangling bait and waiting for the fish to bite.

       “When?”

       “These spoiled young masters live in a haze of wine and luxury, drinking and partying every night. If we’re going to meet, it has to be at a nightlife venue.” After saying that, Shen Liu realised he was describing himself as one of those ‘decadent types’. He smoothly shifted his tone. “I’m different, though—untainted despite being in the mud. I never go to nightclubs, sleep early, rise early, live a disciplined life, no bad habits whatsoever.”

       Always so eager to paint himself in gold.

       Qin Mu was about to mock him when Shen Liu lazily added, “Except for missing you.”

       This man had clearly spent too long in the dating scene; corny flirtations rolled off his tongue effortlessly. He was relentlessly flirting early in the morning; it was as if he was begging for a beating. Qin Mu said blankly, “If you were a sub, I’d make sure the mere thought of me made your whole body ache.”

       Shen Liu smiled. “I’ll make sure to try that someday.”

       He looked at the man before him and thought bitterly that he really was hopeless. All those people who had thrown themselves at him over the years couldn’t stir even half his interest—yet he was utterly obsessed with this cold, unyielding man who could turn his back on him without hesitation. Whenever Qin Mu was around, his heart seemed to come alive, pulsing like it had taken a dose of aphrodisiac. Every glance, every fleeting expression could daze him, and his mind couldn’t stop replaying the sensations of the night before—the body pressed into soft sheets, the arching waist that moved with every thrust, the eyes wet and hazy with pleasure, the sounds that trembled between desire and resistance… His body began to heat uncontrollably; his ears buzzed, and he barely registered a word that was being said.

       It wasn’t until he caught the look in Qin Mu’s eyes that he snapped back to his senses and thought that he was done for.

       Doms were experts at reading people through their eyes—especially someone who knew him this well. Fantasising about him to his face was downright disrespectful.

       Qin Mu said nothing, just stood and left the table. Shen Liu immediately followed.

       “Is there anything else?” Qin Mu asked, pausing at the bedroom door.

       “Yes.” Shen Liu stood outside, for once behaving like a gentleman who respected the rule of ‘no entry without permission’. He then asked, “May I get some clothes?”

       A clumsy excuse. With all his wealth, Boss Shen’s wardrobe was the size of a small apartment—why would he need to enter this room to find clothes?

       Qin Mu was about to speak when two maids pushed a cleaning cart out of the elevator at the end of the hall. Seeing the two men, they quickly lowered their heads and retreated. The younger one even flushed red.

       Qin Mu frowned, turning toward Shen Liu. “You let them clean in there too?”

       Shen Liu started to say no, but caught himself midway, mumbling an ambiguous “Eh?”

       Qin Mu stepped aside and said coolly, “Open the door.”

       Shen Liu entered openly.

       That ‘dark room’ had always been one he cleaned himself. Apart from handing off the used sheets for washing, he never let anyone else touch it. Qin Mu had always been fastidious about such things—he used to handle the cleanup personally after their sessions. Last night’s ‘madness’ was already an act of indulgent loss of control for him; he didn’t want anyone else to see the aftermath and form any indecent imaginations.

       Since the guest was cleaning, the host couldn’t very well stand idle. Shen Liu tossed the freshly washed vibrator into the steriliser and took the nipple clamps from Qin Mu’s hands, smiling. “Want me to wash the sheets too?”

       Qin Mu glanced at him without answering.

       Watching the man’s back, Shen Liu suddenly felt a strange sense of déjà vu—like he was back in the town of Tingyun. He almost reached out to wrap his arms around that waist, but managed to restrain himself, sitting down at the edge of the bed instead. After a moment, he spoke quietly. “I haven’t used this room in a long time.”

       The words came out of nowhere, making Qin Mu pause slightly. Then Shen Liu continued, his tone unhurried. “In the beginning, I went wild for a while. I took in all kinds of subs, played with every trick in the book, and stirred up the scene. Then one day, I suddenly found it meaningless, and the excitement faded.” He paused. “I haven’t held a whip in ages. Last night, I didn’t dare use even the soft one. I was afraid I’d lost my touch and might hurt you.”

       The words sounded halfway between a confession and casual conversation. The truth lay hidden within, like a single leaf deep in a dense forest—you knew it was there, but couldn’t quite find it.

       For a brief moment, Qin Mu wanted to ask why, but stopped himself. Sharing that kind of privacy was too intimate, and after all, they were just two people taking what they needed from a one-night stand.

       He put the ruler back into its case and walked up to Shen Liu.

       Shen Liu’s heart stirred as he tilted his head to look up at him.

       “Move. I’m changing the sheets.”

       “…”

       If a person’s heart were a boat, then time was the ballast stone weighing it down. Qin Mu’s boat carried especially heavy stones—solid, steady, unmoved by any storm. Even the finest swordsman couldn’t win against a wooden training dummy that refused to spar.

       Shen Liu stood, smirking. “So diligent. Why not stay here and work? At your consultation rate, I could pay three thousand an hour.”

       “The employer has a record of sexual harassment. The working environment’s too toxic. I’ll pass.” Qin Mu bundled up the sheets and shoved them into his arms before heading out to wash his hands.

       Tao Ze froze when he saw Shen Liu emerging from the room with an armful of dirty bedding. Then, holding back laughter, he asked, “Boss, are you planning to wash those yourself, or should I find a vacuum bag to preserve them for you?”

       Shen Liu gave him a cold, humourless grin. “You trying to forfeit your salary this month?”

       “I was wrong, Boss.” Tao Ze quickly straightened his face and shifted to business. “For today’s lunch meeting, everyone’s confirmed except the three who couldn’t make the trip in time. Here’s the menu—please have a look.”

       “Just keep it to the family-dinner standard,” Shen Liu said after skimming it. He had no objections.

       “And for lunch… should we make separate arrangements for Lawyer Qin, or…?”

       “Together. Seat him next to me.”

       “Have you told him in advance?”

       “When you’re catching a rabbit, do you put up a sign saying ‘trap ahead’?” Shen Liu shot him a glare.

       “Well, you could, but the rabbit can’t read anyway,” Tao Ze replied, flashing a row of white teeth.

       Shen Liu gave him a look. “You’re feeling pretty funny today, aren’t you, Tao Ze?”

       “Just doing my best, Boss.”

       “Everyone coming today is important. Butler Jin’s getting old—you handle the greeting.”

       “…” Tao Ze went rigid with shock, then pulled a face and said miserably, “Boss, I was wrong. Some rabbits can read…”

       “Cut the crap and get moving.”

       –

       There was a reason Tao Ze had managed to stay by Shen Liu’s side all these years.

       The luncheon had been arranged in haste, yet within an extremely limited timeframe, he had organised every detail with meticulous precision so that Shen Liu wouldn’t have to lift a finger. The reception room had both Eastern and Western-style refreshments and drinks ready. Ingredients for lunch were prepared in advance, with dishes carefully avoiding any ingredients aligned with the guests’ dietary restrictions. Even the seating arrangements were thoughtfully designed to reflect relationships and hierarchy, and the napkins had been deliberately replaced with ones of elegant, understated colour.

       At ten-thirty sharp, Assistant Tao stood in the front hall, his posture tense as if facing a battlefield. The elderly butler, Old Jin, smiled behind him.

       “Relax a little.”

       Tao Ze gave a bitter smile, but before he could reply, the low rumble of an approaching engine drowned his words. Moments later, a bright yellow Ferrari swept across the lawn and stopped at the front steps. The bodyguard jogged forward to open the door, and out stepped a young man dressed in expensive designer streetwear, with sunglasses so large they hid half his face.

       “Where’s Shen Liu?” was his first question upon getting out of the car.

       Snapping out of his grief over ‘that lawn was just re-sodded last week’, Tao Ze plastered on his best professional smile and went forward.

       “Young Master Rong, you must be tired from your journey. President Shen is in his study taking care of some business. Please have a seat in the reception room for now.”

       The young man frowned as he walked. “Didn’t he invite me for lunch? I’m here, so can we eat already? I skipped breakfast—I’m starving.”

       Tao Ze kept his smile polite. “Please wait just a moment.”

       The young man’s steps faltered. Something clicked in his mind, “He invited other people too, didn’t he?”

       “There are a few more guests. You’re the first to arrive.”

       “What’s that supposed to mean?” His face darkened instantly. “Who else did he invite? Did he hide it from me because he thought I wouldn’t come? Don’t tell me that brat Shen Xiao is coming too?”

       Tao Ze hesitated for just half a second—enough for the man to spin on his heel and head for the exit. Cold sweat broke out down Tao Ze’s back. He hurried after him, pleading, “Young Master Rong, you’re already here…”

       They hadn’t gone far before two more men entered through the front doors. Their faces bore a striking resemblance, though one looked to be in his thirties—serious in a formal suit—while the younger, in his early twenties, wore a warm, easy smile.

       “Well, well, Shen Rong, long time no see,” the younger greeted first.

       The first arrival ignored him, removing his sunglasses to reveal a clean-cut face, and turned toward the elder. “Ting ge.”

       “Mm,” Shen Ting nodded. The younger, Shen Xiao, added, “You’re leaving already?”

       “Why would I leave?” Shen Rong replied coldly. “Just thought I’d take a look around.”

       “Really? I thought you were afraid to see me.” Shen Xiao smirked. “I messed up last time—been meaning to apologise. But then I figured it was just some bar singer. Hardly worth letting her ruin our brotherhood. You didn’t take it to heart, right?”

       Shen Rong’s smile was thin and sharp. “You’re right. There’s no shortage of women. Just for next time—if you like one, tell me directly. I’ll wrap her up and deliver her to you myself. But don’t pull that ‘take first, ask later’ crap again. Being timid in business is one thing, but being small-minded in bed? That’s just pathetic.”

       Shen Xiao’s smile froze. Tao Ze, drenched in sweat, jumped in to divert, “Young Master Ting, refreshments are ready—please, have some tea.”

       Shen Ting nodded and walked in. With that interruption, the other two couldn’t keep arguing and followed him inside. Once tea was served, Tao Ze returned to the entrance. As he turned the corner, the sigh of relief he had just felt disappeared; this time, his nerves were on edge.

       This time, two female guests arrived. The one on the left had delicate brows and almond eyes, her black hair cascading like silk, embodying the gentle grace unique to Eastern women. The one on the right, slightly older, wore her hair short; her beauty was sharper, brighter—refined yet cutting. If the first was a pearl in a box, the second was a blade in its sheath.

       The short-haired woman shrugged off her coat and handed it to a maid. Her first words were, “Where’s Tao Ze?”

       The assistant instinctively shrank behind a cabinet, but remembering his duty, he stepped out with a forced smile. “Miss Anning,” he greeted, then turned to the younger woman, “Miss Jiahe.”

       Shen Anning smiled brightly. “Missed me?”

       Tao Ze froze—there was no safe answer to that. He settled for diplomacy, “I’ve been looking forward to your arrival.”

       “Do I look good today?” she pressed.

       “You always look beautiful.”

       “Who’s prettier, me or Jiahe?”

       There it was, the killer question… Shen Jiahe covered her mouth, laughing quietly to watch the show.

       Tao Ze, driven by sheer survival instinct, replied, “You’re both beautiful in your own ways.”

       “Describe it,” Anning insisted mercilessly.

       “I’m not good with words,” he said weakly, “but you’re both the kind of beauty men would gladly fall head over heels for.”

       Anning narrowed her eyes. “Is that so? Then how come I still don’t have a boyfriend? People say you should be with someone who appreciates you. Seems like you’re the only one who does. Why don’t we give it a try?”

       Cold sweat trickled down his back. He ducked his head. “I’m not worthy. The man fit for you must be a true dragon among men. The meal will start soon—please, come sit inside.”

       Anning eyed him. “Funny, your mouth doesn’t sound clumsy at all. Smooth talker like you—Shen Liu’s wasting your talent as a butler. Why don’t you come work for me? I’ll double your salary.”

       “Tsk, poaching from under my roof—isn’t that a bit improper?” came a man’s voice, saving Tao Ze from disaster.

       “Liu ge,” Jiahe greeted.

       Shen Liu nodded. “Thank you for coming all this way.”

       “What, and I didn’t?” Anning huffed. “I came straight here from the airport. You dare call me improper?”

       Shen Liu chuckled. “Touching, truly. I’ll make sure to serve you and Jiahe something special to wash off the travel dust.”

       “Forget it,” she muttered. “Your banquets always feel like traps.” Still, she headed inside of her own accord.

       Tao Ze exhaled in relief.

       Shen Liu shot him a knowing smile.

       Guests arrived one after another. The air in the reception room grew heavy with the invisible smoke of social warfare. Outwardly, everyone maintained the grace and poise of high society—sipping tea, nibbling pastries, trading elegant pleasantries—but their words were full of barbs. Every polite phrase hid an insult; every compliment, a veiled jab. It was verbal fencing at its finest: subtle, poisonous, and lethal.

       Even as an outsider, Tao Ze felt pricked just listening. Yet Shen Liu sat in the middle of it all, smiling like a spring breeze, completely unfazed.

       When all eight guests had arrived, they moved to the dining room.

       Shen Li, the last to show, was nursing a hangover from last night’s drinking session. He rubbed his temples. “Shen Liu, if you’ve got something to say, just say it. Once you’re done, I’m going home to sleep. What’s this dinner for anyway? It’s not New Year’s, no need for another fake display of family harmony.”

       “Tired? Should I have a bed brought over?” Shen Liu asked mildly.

       It sounded like a joke, but there was pressure under the words. The others exchanged glances and fell silent. Shen Li gave an awkward cough and straightened in his seat.

       The ones at this ‘family dinner’ were all the true power players among the younger Shen generation. The fact that Shen Liu could summon them meant he had leverage.

       “I did invite you all for a reason,” Shen Liu said, unhurried. “But first, let’s eat. Considering how our family relations aren’t exactly good enough for everyone to share the same dishes, I decided to go with French cuisine.”

       For once, Tao Ze saw unanimous approval in their eyes.

       Noticing the empty seat beside Shen Liu, Shen Jiahe asked, “Is someone else still coming?”

       Shen Liu glanced at his watch—the hands pointed to 11:30. He looked toward the door, smiling. “Considering that listening to all that nonsense and mockery while eating might cause indigestion, I’ve invited a special guest to join us. Please, everyone, stay calm and well-mannered—let’s not embarrass the Shen family.”

       Then he rose to his feet. “Allow me to introduce someone I greatly respect… my lawyer friend—Qin Mu.”

       And that was how Lawyer Qin, completely unprepared, found himself stepping into the dining room still wearing his pyjamas under a tableful of assessing stares.

---

T/N:
Uh oh, sorry, I haven’t finished translating this when I scheduled it T_T
I totally forgot I scheduled it already
IDK WHAT HAPPENED THO
It looks okay when I logged in…

---

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       In the bathroom.

       

       The fine stream of water pattered against his body, washing away the remnants of passion and desire. Thinking back to what had just happened, Qin Mu felt as if he had gone mad.

       Ordinarily, he carried himself like a calm old monk who had long seen through the dust of the mortal world. Yet the moment he faced that man, all composure vanished—he became like a block of dull, foolish wood, led by a string, performing a ridiculous puppet show.

       He stood under the shower for a long while with his eyes closed before finally pressing down the emotion that he did not even know whether it was regret or melancholy. When he stepped out, wrapped in a bathrobe, he found Shen Liu fiddling with the props they had used earlier.

       After all these years of practice, Qin Mu’s ability to feign composure was still decent. Even though he was so embarrassed, he refused to acknowledge the messy bed. His expression remained calm as he asked, “Need help?”

       “No. I’m waiting for you.” Shen Liu tossed the ruler aside. His hair was slightly long, and when he didn’t tie it up, his fringe covered most of his brows, making his gaze seem even deeper.

       “What, scared to sleep alone?” Qin Mu teased.

       “Yeah.” The other man was very good at playing along. “Scared to death—been waiting for you to come and soothe my fragile soul.”

       “You flatter me. I don’t have that kind of skill. Find someone else.” Qin Mu spoke as he moved toward the door, but it wouldn’t open.

       The man strolled over at an unhurried pace, unlocked it, and followed him back to the master bedroom. Ignoring Qin Mu’s look of dismissal, he sat down boldly at the bedside.

       Qin Mu’s mouth twitched. “Since you’re treating this place as a guest room, shouldn’t you at least show some respect?”

       Shen Liu leaned lazily against the soft pillows. “Just now, you were the one who kissed me so eagerly, crying and gasping with pleasure. Now you’re turning hostile and driving me out after you’re done? That’s too heartless, isn’t it?”

       When it came to shamelessness, Shen Liu was blessed beyond measure, while Qin Mu was unfortunate enough to lose at the starting line. Just a few words were enough to make his ears burn. Fearing the man would say something even more indecent, he said coldly, “Are you leaving or not?” His posture was already that of someone ready to go if the other stayed.

       Shen Liu had always known how to play with boundaries; he teased just enough before pulling back. Despite his usual lack of decorum, he now wore a serious look, adopting the air of a business negotiator. “A gentleman keeps his word. We agreed on a one-night stand—so even if it hasn’t been eight hours, at least wait until morning, right? Besides, a game should honour its contract. Did you carry out my last command just now?”

       “So?” Qin Mu raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to spew nonsense.

       “So…” Shen Liu drew out the word, then patted the empty half of the bed beside him. “I’ll skip the punishment. Just stay and sleep with me for a while. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

       He was always like this. He raised the knife high, only to set it down gently, taking the stance of ‘see, I’m being reasonable and even letting you off,’ leaving others with no way to advance or retreat. To get angry would seem petty, but to step into his trap was unbearable.

       Qin Mu stood there with a stiff face. Shen Liu didn’t rush him, quietly waiting.

       What was done was done; what’s the point of dwelling on it? Qin Mu thought this and suddenly let go. He took off his bathrobe, pulled up the blanket, and lay down on the outer side.

       Shen Liu’s lips curved slightly. He turned off the light and lay down too, tugging half of the double blanket over himself.

       In the darkness, their two bare bodies seemed imprisoned in a small enclosed space. Neither of them moved.

       After a moment, Shen Liu gave a low chuckle. “Asleep already?”

       Qin Mu didn’t answer.

       A warm body pressed against his back. The breath near his ear carried the cool scent of mint from mouthwash. Qin Mu ignored him, keeping his eyes closed and pretending to be dead. The man, growing bolder, slipped an arm around his waist. The hand that brushed his skin seemed to carry tiny electric currents—numbing and ticklish. Qin Mu couldn’t stand it anymore. “Sleep on your own side.”

       “I’m afraid of the dark,” the man said smoothly, pushing the limits of shamelessness. “I can only sleep while holding something.”

       Bullshit, Qin Mu cursed inwardly, gritting his teeth. “Take your hand away.”

       “I won’t move. I swear.” Shen Liu rested his forehead against the back of Qin Mu’s head and finally quieted down.

       Seeing that he wasn’t misbehaving anymore, Qin Mu curled up slightly. Because of his lack of security, he always slept in a defensive posture. Shen Liu’s embrace felt the same as before; it was disorienting.

       Their breathing gradually slowed. As vigilance faded, drowsiness crept in, pulling both of them into a hazy dream. Like two fish swimming upstream, they drifted through the current of time, retracing lost years, rediscovering forgotten memories.

       They slept soundly all night.

       

       Driven by his biological clock, Qin Mu woke up first.

       The blackout curtains kept the room shrouded in dimness. Even in the dark, the face before him appeared distinct—features well-defined, brows and eyes clear, nose straight, lashes long.

       It was said that Shen Liu resembled his mother. Her surname was Xue, and her given name was Ning. The Xue family had once been one of the four great clans of City J, but they chose the wrong side. Over twenty years ago, an investigation had dug up a trove of old crimes—selling state secrets, illegal smuggling, land grabs and profiteering. The family fell apart overnight, never to recover, and their place was soon taken by the rising Shi family.

       At the time of the incident, the Shen and Xue families were already connected by marriage. Xue Ning had begged the Shen family for help, but after weighing the situation, Shen Lan chose to withdraw completely. Their relationship was shattered from then on. After the Xue family’s downfall, Xue Ning became the target of mockery from the Shen family’s sisters-in-law and soon fell into a deep depression.

       At that time, she was already pregnant. For the sake of his political career and public image, Shen Lan didn’t file for divorce, but his attitude toward her grew colder by the day. This pitiful woman, who had once entered the Shen family bringing her own family’s prestige and wealth, serving as a pawn in consolidating their power, could only watch helplessly as her family collapsed, becoming a ghostly presence trapped in the Shen household, neither seen nor heard.

       After long-term treatment, her depression improved. She withdrew to a secluded mountain temple, living as a lay Buddhist, spending her days in vegetarian fasting and chanting, no longer concerning herself with worldly affairs. She even deliberately avoided her son. Later, when Shen Liu grew up and came to understand the reasons behind it all, he rarely disturbed her again, merely sending pastries through servants during holidays to show a token of filial piety.

       He had a mother, yet it was as if he had none; he had a father, yet their relationship was distant to the point of absurdity.

       When Shen Liu had once told Qin Mu about these family matters, cutting out the unpleasant parts and speaking as if they were trivial gossip, it had only made Qin Mu’s heart ache for him all the more.

       In his youth, Shen Liu’s features carried a sharp yet careless contradiction, like a nameless swordsman’s blade hanging askew at his hip, or a proud lone wolf wandering the wild hills. He was unrestrained, cynical, and had a playful attitude towards life. Now, though, he had become more restrained, like a sheathed sword or a mist-shrouded mountain, revealing only a glimpse of his true nature before Qin Mu.

       Qin Mu knew he should take the chance to get up while the other man was still asleep, to avoid awkwardness later. But his body didn’t move. His gaze lingered uncontrollably on Shen Liu’s face, tracing it again and again in the dim light, as if trying to etch it permanently into memory.

       Suddenly, Shen Liu’s eyelashes fluttered. Qin Mu hurriedly shut his eyes, amused at himself; at his age, why was he still acting like some bashful boy doing foolish things?

       Shen Liu wasn’t fully awake yet. Half-dreaming, he stretched out his long arm and drew Qin Mu into his embrace. His breath fell against Qin Mu’s hair, tickling slightly. The intimate posture, the warmth of skin, the strength of his arm, and the lingering scent of body wash—all of it stirred Qin Mu’s thoughts.

       He couldn’t help wondering: *Was this how he usually held others when he slept?*

       The thought inexplicably irritated him. He gently lifted the arm hooked around his waist to slip away. However, the moment he tried, that arm tightened instantly and pulled him back into his embrace.

       Qin Mu: “…”

       “Where are you sneaking off to?” Shen Liu asked, eyes half-lidded, his voice lazy with a hint of a nasal drawl.

       “It’s morning,” Qin Mu said expressionlessly.

       “Is it? The room’s so dark—it must still be early. Stay a little longer.”

       Qin Mu narrowed his eyes. “I’m curious about something.”

       “Hm?”

       “Did you train your face with iron-sand palm?”

       Shen Liu laughed, and beneath the blanket, his hand slipped down to press heavily against the cleft of Qin Mu’s lower back. “I’ve trained other parts too. Want to test them again?”

       Qin Mu caught his wrist, his cheeks faintly red. Early morning was a dangerous time for accidents, and continuing this would be unwise. Fortunately, Shen Liu had enough sense to stop there.

       “What are you planning to do about the Zhao family?” Qin Mu asked, unable to hold back.

       “Worried I’ll dine and dash, or that I’ll lose to Zhao Jinchuan?” Shen Liu’s lips curved into a teasing smile.

       Qin Mu knew he wouldn’t get a straight answer, so he didn’t press further. Suddenly, Shen Liu leaned in and brushed a light kiss on his forehead. Qin Mu looked up to see him smiling. “We’re old already—no need to act like before.”

       It sounded like a joke, but on closer thought, it seemed to carry another meaning. Before Qin Mu could figure out what it was, Shen Liu chuckled and asked, “Want to hug a little longer?”

       The arm around him had already loosened.

       Qin Mu got up and dressed, deliberately ignoring the unabashed gaze following his every movement. Once dressed, he asked seriously, “What’s for breakfast?”

       Shen Liu leaned leisurely against the headboard, the blanket barely covering his waist, his tone once again turning roguish. “Me?”

       “Too old. Hard to chew,” Qin Mu replied coolly.

       “Then lie down—I’ll do the work. I’ll make sure you’re full.”

       Qin Mu shot him a sidelong look, smiling with provocation. “Oh? How many seconds?”

       Shen Liu: “…”

       As the saying goes, those who live by flirting must one day suffer its bite. Every scoundrel’s words eventually came back to haunt him. The boy who once blushed at a single tease had now grown into someone who could spar shamelessly in return, leaving Shen Liu oddly wistful. With a hint of wounded pride, he surrendered. “What do you want to eat? I’ll have the kitchen make it.”

       “Shrimp dumplings. The same as yesterday.”

       Shen Liu chuckled. “You really are loyal to what you like.”

       During breakfast, the guest ate with calm composure while the host watched with interest—both perfectly content. When Qin Mu finally finished eating, Shen Liu suddenly asked, “Do you want to see Zhao Jinchuan?”

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T/N:
Thank you for your encouragement as always Desuma ^^

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       Qin Mu had stared blankly at the brass alarm clock for a long time, only snapping back to his senses when Shen Liu, wrapped in a bath towel, stood in front of him. Their gazes collided, and he immediately looked away. “I’ll go wash up.”

       “Need any help?” Shen Liu asked with a smile.

       Qin Mu ignored him, not even lifting his head as he walked into the bathroom.

       The man’s lips curved faintly, but when his eyes shifted to that alarm clock, his gaze gradually turned cold and deep lines etched between his brows.

       Time flowed on, the hands drawing faithful circles again and again, yet he had lost the π hidden in his heart, never to be whole again. Even now, the crushing helplessness of those days still seemed to linger within him, a sinister shadow that refused to disperse. Keeping this thing by his side was to constantly remind himself never to repeat the same mistake.

       Back then, he had been too young, thinking with reckless courage that he could force Shen Lan to give in—until the day he saw those photos in Shen Yan’s hands.

       They were all close-up shots, every detail captured with stark clarity.

       “Where did these come from?” He frowned, unease rising within.

       “On your dad’s desk,” Shen Yan answered.

       “What does he want to do?” His voice flared with anger as he braced against the edge of the bed to get up, but Shen Yan pushed him back down. The movement tugged at his injured leg, and pain drained the colour from his face.

       One of the photos slipped to the floor. Frozen in the frame, Qin Mu was standing on the dormitory balcony, the angle suggesting it had been secretly taken from the opposite building. Shen Yan picked it up and asked, “Do you think you can beat him?”

       Shen Liu stayed silent.

       “You don’t understand him,” Shen Yan said leisurely. “Your youthful rebellion, leaving home to study at K University, making low-class friends, even fooling around with someone of the same sex—he can tolerate all that. Because on the track he has laid for you, those are nothing more than minor detours, unable to change your future’s main course. But he cannot tolerate you derailing completely. As a father, he cannot be harsh with his own child. Breaking your leg was merely an accident in a fit of rage. But with Qin Mu, he will not be so lenient. Qin Mu’s studies, future, life—even his very survival—are all cards in his hand. Any single one of them, you cannot afford to lose. You have no chips in hand, yet you revealed your hidden card too early. So this game was doomed to fail from the start.”

       He tossed the photo into Shen Liu’s hands.

       “It was you who put Qin Mu in front of the lens. The distance between him and the camera is the distance between him and danger. If you keep clinging to your misguided stubbornness, in the end, you will be the one to harm him.”

       Those words landed like a stinging slap across Shen Liu’s face, leaving him dazed. Emotions surged like crashing waves, and he felt as though he were a lone boat adrift in a pitch-dark sea, helpless before a distant lighthouse that was about to go dark. Unconsciously, he clenched the photo tightly, as though trying to hold onto that faint spark in the darkness. “He… he wouldn’t go that far.” His voice was very soft, so soft that it betrayed his wavering and doubt.

       “A Shen family son should not be so naive.” Shen Yan’s face was expressionless. “The obstinacy of the weak is meaningless. Before you have the power to fight back, don’t make decisions that will leave you with regret. This is advice—whether you heed it or not is up to you.”

       When he finished, he took the envelope of photos and left, leaving only that one photo for Shen Liu.

       In the picture, Qin Mu looked slightly thin, his gaze drawn upward as if captivated by a passing bird. He was looking toward the distant sky, and at his collar there was a glimpse of a red string.

       Shen Liu knew that at the hidden end of that string was a silver ring, engraved with the digits of π, ending with the initials of their names.

       It was their one-year anniversary memento.

       They had agreed that when the day came, they would be strong enough not to care about the opinions of others, and they would wear it on their ring fingers.

       They had agreed to buy a small house, raise a few cats, and live together.

       They had agreed to hold hands and walk through countless years, until the very end of life.

       They had agreed…

       Daylight spilt through the side window, casting a shadow of gloom across Shen Liu’s features. Half his brows and eyes were lost in the dark, making his expression unreadable. But at the edge of his eyes, caught in the light, a faint redness slowly spread—like a trace of blood suppressed in the depths. Tears broke free despite him, scalding hot as they fell onto the photograph.

       He closed his eyes.

       The world sank into a dark, silent void. Ancient stars fell one after another, taking with them the last light.

       Shen Yan had been right—he could not protect him.

 

       That night, Shen Liu went to see Shen Lan.

       The elder sat on the sofa, glanced at his leg, and with a stern face said, “My time is limited. If you’re here to talk about so-called ‘freedom and independence,’ then save it. I’m not interested.”

       “I came to make peace.” Shen Liu seemed calm, his tone stripped of its usual aggressiveness, carrying instead a rare sincerity. “Even though we’re father and son, we rarely talk without fighting. We can’t get through two sentences before it turns into an argument, and in the end, we can’t even speak properly. At this point, I don’t expect you to understand me fully, but I also don’t want our relationship as father and son to rot so badly. Today, I want to tell you something from the heart.”

       He paused for a moment, unconsciously touching the pendant on his chest through his shirt, as if weighing his words—or perhaps giving himself courage. “I like Qin Mu. I really like him. I like him so much that I want to spend the rest of my life with him. In all my years, I’ve never liked anyone this much. He is my bottom line. If anyone touches that line… I don’t know what I might do. Maybe I’d collapse, maybe I’d go mad, maybe I’d even die.”

       Shen Lan’s eyelid twitched, his face darkening. “Are you threatening me?”

       “No. Like I said, I came to make peace.” Shen Liu met his eyes and spoke slowly. “He’s just an outsider—simple, innocent. He doesn’t even know what the Shen family really is. He just happened to meet me, and happened to fall in love with me. Other than that, he has no ulterior motives. You must have investigated him—you should know his hardships, the grievances he had endured. He’s suffered enough. I may not be able to give him happiness, but at the very least, I shouldn’t let him be hurt. So I’ll let him go. I ask you to let him go too. Dad, this is your son’s request to you.”

       Shen Lan gave a low and dismissive hum, his expression easing slightly. Coldly, he asked, “And how do you plan to handle this?”

       “I need two months. After that, whether it’s studying abroad, marrying whoever you choose, or taking over the family business, I’ll do whatever you say. From then on…” Shen Liu’s lips moved; it took him all his strength to force out the words, “…I’ll have nothing to do with him again.”

       Shen Lan frowned. “Two months?”

       “Two months in exchange for a lifetime of obedience—surely that’s a fair bargain?” Shen Liu countered.

       Shen Lan stared at him for a moment before loosening his stance. “Fine. I’ll give you two months. But if you go back on your word, then I won’t guarantee what might happen.”

       Shen Liu tugged the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry. I never break a promise lightly.”

 

       The next morning, the imprisoned youth was finally allowed to leave the house.

       After so many days, when Shen Liu saw the gaunt, broken Qin Mu searching anxiously for him outside the school gates, his chest felt as though it were being torn apart.

       But he couldn’t let it show.

       He clenched his teeth, forcing every ounce of sorrow, pain, and unwillingness deep down into his heart. Those emotions raged like wild beasts, screaming and thrashing, and holding them back nearly drained him completely.

       He said, “Log, let’s run away together. Forget everything else—let’s just go.”

       Yet inside his body, another voice was shouting—Hit me, Log. Slap me. Drive me away.

       He saw Qin Mu’s confusion. But only for an instant. Then, the man said, “Okay.”

       Side by side on horseback, not asking about the future.

       To have someone who shared the same heart, what more could he ask for in this life?

       Shen Liu’s tears almost spilt out. He could only lower his head awkwardly, avoiding Qin Mu’s gaze.

       They went to Tingyun Town, a place that was so beautiful it felt like a paradise untouched by the world.

       Before the farewell he had long planned arrived, every moment they spent together was all the more precious. The wind over the river, the clouds at the edge of the sky, the person before his eyes, even that pile of fish waiting to be cleaned in the pond — all of them made Shen Liu reluctant to let go. Sometimes, when he looked at Qin Mu’s back, he would wonder—what would happen after he left? Would he cry? Who would comfort him, who would take care of him? Would he meet someone better than him? Would he love that person the way he loved him?

       When the thoughts became unbearable, he would turn to the window and pretend to watch the television in the building opposite.

       Time was a thief of exquisite craft, stealing away youth and slipping soundlessly past the front and back of the house. Shen Yan arrived as promised to bring down the curtain on this self-directed and self-performed play.

       Shen Yan asked, “Why must you force him to be the one to propose breaking up?”

       Shen Liu answered, “So that he won’t cling to me. Qin Mu is very fragile, and that fragility comes from the inferiority he felt in his youth. If I were the one to abandon him, he would continue to question whether he wasn’t good enough, and spiral endlessly into self-denial. Yet at the same time, he possesses a resilience that ordinary people don’t. When he believes something is worthwhile, he will give it everything, sparing no effort and paying any price. If you give him a clear reason, letting him choose to break up ‘for my sake’, then he won’t bear such a heavy sense of guilt, and he’ll be able to adjust faster and step into a new life. And also…” Shen Liu tossed the leaf in his hand into the pond, lowered his gaze, and said, “If he were the one who left me, then he would remember me for the rest of his life.”

       The leaf spun on the water, swaying with the ripples.

       Shen Yan sighed. “I truly don’t know if you’re merciful or cruel.”

 

       Later, Shen Liu saw Qin Mu’s lost and broken figure in the heavy rain. He saw the struggle and reluctance in Qin Mu’s eyes, and he also saw the redness rimmed around Qin Mu’s eyes after drinking. His heart felt as if it had been pierced through, a blunt blade pulling back and forth through the wound, tearing flesh and blood. Yet he insisted on pretending to know nothing, watching with open eyes as Qin Mu suffered in pain.

       He said, ‘May my Little Log eat plenty of good food from now on and always be happy.’

       He said, ‘All right, you’ve grown up, I won’t care for you anymore.’

       He said, ‘Eat more, don’t always endure hunger.’

       He said, ‘Kiss me.’

       He said many things, but the one thing he never dared to say was “I love you.” Those three words were carved into his heart, yet could never again be spoken aloud.

       Shen Liu finally got his wish—he heard that sentence, “Let’s break up.”

       He closed his eyes and thought, perhaps this heart-rending pain would only come once in this lifetime. From now on, his heart would be dead and would never hurt again.

       When they parted, the rain poured down in torrents. Qin Mu’s figure disappeared in the rearview mirror. At last, Shen Liu clutched the ring hanging over his chest and silently began to cry.

 

       You were the gentleness in my gaze, you were the immortality in my heart, you were nearly the whole reason I loved this world.*

       But I had no strength to keep you. All I had left was what once was. May you have everything from here on.

---

Author’s Note:
*Quoted from Milan Kundera’s Immortality

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T/N:
I hope you guys are happy with the updates for now
There are only around 23 chapters until the series ends, and hopefully, I can do more updates more often ^^

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       “Sorry.” He stopped and forced a faint tug at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know. Most families in this town are surnamed Bai.”

       The man glanced at him. “Are you from here?”

       “Don’t I look like one?” Qin Mu asked in return.

       “No accent.”

       “My Mandarin is just better,” he said, and then naturally greeted a fellow townsman they passed in the local dialect, “Ai, have you eaten?”

       “Yeah, I have,” the other person drawled in reply.

       Qin Mu’s Tingyun dialect was flawless. He had suspected that Shen Liu might have debts outside, or perhaps had offended someone and needed to hide. So he fabricated a backstory for the two of them as college students returning to their hometown, and secretly picked up common local phrases from Chef Fang to keep up the pretence. What he hadn’t expected was that the pursuers would come so quickly.

       Sweat broke out across his back as he anxiously tried to think of a countermeasure. As the two of them walked side by side, the man suddenly stopped and asked, “Aren’t you going to talk about it?”

       Qin Mu’s heart gave a violent jolt. On guard, he asked, “…About what?”

       The man lifted the rim of his umbrella. His deep, dark eyes gazed through the curtain of rain toward the cluster of stone archways not far away. “These.”

       Only then did Qin Mu realise, and he exhaled in relief. Pointing to the nearest one, he began reciting, “The Ming Emperor Shenzong granted the largest archway to Bai Wanshan. Bai Wanshan was a top scholar in the imperial exams, served as imperial tutor, Vice Minister of Rites, and Grand Academician of Wenchang Pavilion, attaining the rank of a third-grade official. To honour his loyalty, filial piety, benevolence, and love, the emperor ordered this archway erected for his mother, praising her for her exemplary upbringing. The Bai family flourished in the Ming dynasty, with more than thirty archways, but later declined after being implicated in an exam cheating scandal, and most were destroyed. Half of those standing now are reconstructions based on historical records. This road is the ancient path into town. Up ahead is a small pavilion called the Official’s Hat Pavilion, where Bai descendants would dismount when returning home. The rain’s getting heavy, let’s take shelter there.”

       “All right,” the man agreed.

       Raindrops pattered densely on the tiles, rolling down into a fine net of water. Mist rose over the distant green mountains, veiling them in ethereal vapour, hazy and indistinct.

       “The scenery here is beautiful. Even rain has its own kind of beauty too.” Qin Mu deliberately tried to draw him out. “Where did you come from?”

       “J City.”

       “A big city in the north.” Qin Mu’s gaze furtively roved over him. “Here to visit a friend? Someone you met online?”

       “He’s my younger brother,” the man said.

       Qin Mu’s breath hitched. He masked his suspicion and wariness with a smile, forcing his tone to sound casual. “He came here to travel?”

       “No. He ran away from home.” The man’s right hand rested on the umbrella handle, his left in his trouser pocket, his posture straight as a rod. “He’s always been stubborn and strong-willed, unwilling to follow the family’s arrangements. Unfortunately, his father is also a stubborn man. Their arguments escalated, shaking the house with turmoil. In a fit of rage, his father struck him and broke his leg, then locked him up. When he was able to get out of bed, he ran.”

       Qin Mu gripped his umbrella tighter, his lips pressed into a rigid line. He told himself this was just a stranger, not someone he could trust. But deep inside, some unconscious part of him believed every word.

       So this was why Shen Liu had left him, why he had taken him along in his flight. It wasn’t because of debts, nor because he had offended anyone. It was simply because he wanted to be with him.

       In that instant of truth, Qin Mu felt as if a herd of wild horses had stampeded across his chest, shattering the fence he had painstakingly built, trampling the untouched ground he had tried so hard to protect into a desolate mire. And he could not stop them, could not chase them, could not save it—he could only watch helplessly as they thundered past, his heart twisting with pain. He knew he ought to say something, but nothing would come.

       “I watched him grow up. In the family, I might be the one closest to him.” The man looked at the towering archways in the rain and spoke slowly. “Sometimes, family can be a cruel thing. It turns its members into interlocking gears, grinding away individuality until only the ability to move toward a common goal remains. Being inside it means much is beyond your control. But sometimes, it does bring benefits—promising prospects, a bright future. His path has long been paved by many others. As long as he walks it, he can easily gain things others could never obtain, stand taller, and see farther. He can give that up, but what he exchanges it for must hold greater value.” He turned his face then, looking calmly at the person beside him. “That could be something else. But it cannot be you, Qin Mu.”

       Qin Mu’s pupils contracted sharply. His eyes flew open wide in panic as he stared at him.

       “Let’s reintroduce ourselves. I’m Shen Yan, Shen Liu’s cousin.” When this man met someone’s gaze, there was a hard and icy aura about him, like a glacier that had never melted. “Shen Liu is an only child. The family has high expectations for him. He once promised that after graduating from university, he would study abroad, then take over the family’s overseas business. Now he’s broken that promise.” He paused. “To the family, he can be an idle good-for-nothing, he can be a frivolous libertine, he can even have odd little quirks. But what he cannot be is a homosexual—let alone abandon his family and future for the sake of another man.”

       “You want to drag him back?” Qin Mu heard his own voice trembling.

       “I’m here to ask a favour of you,” Shen Yan said. “Given Shen Liu’s temperament, the only way he might let go is if you leave him of your own accord.”

       “I won’t leave him.” The words burst from Qin Mu’s lips. His hands clenched into fists, the knuckles whitening with the force.

       The man seemed unsurprised, his expression flat, his tone cool. “Do you mean for him to gut fish here for the rest of his life?”

       Qin Mu froze.

       “I heard he’s done many things for you. And what about you—what are you prepared to do for him?” Shen Yan’s voice was unhurried, even mild, yet every question cut like a sharp blade, impossible to withstand.

       “Have you thought about his future? His ambitions? The things he still has to accomplish?”

       “He told you he liked this life, and you just believed it?”

       “With the two of you starting from where you are now, what kind of future can you possibly have?”

       “Can such a future really lead to happiness?”

       Qin Mu couldn’t answer. He felt like a criminal bound to an execution rack, suffering hundreds of slow cuts, until he hurt too much even to breathe. The bitterness in his chest corroded away his stubborn resolve, his defences collapsing piece by piece until all that remained was ruin.

       “Have you considered that one day he might regret it? Regret leaving home, regret choosing such a meagre life, regret being with you. When that day comes, what will you do?”

       Shen Yan was putting aside family, elders, and the weight of tradition. What he spoke of was only the two of them and the relationship between them. And that was what made it fatal, each word striking straight at the heart.

       Like the final flake of snow before an avalanche. Like the last straw laid on a weary camel’s back. Like the final thrust of a knife into Qin Mu’s chest.

       A chill rose over Qin Mu’s body, his blood seeming to freeze in an instant.

       He had dreamt of such a nightmare before. In it, Shen Liu walked into the downpour without a backward glance, never returning.

       Now, Shen Yan’s brooding eyes seemed like that endless darkness in his dreams, extinguishing every light. And the fear buried deep inside Qin Mu clawed its way out like brittle white bones, gripping his legs, climbing his chest, dragging him into a bottomless abyss.

       “Qin Mu, as someone who’s been through this, let me give you a piece of advice. Love is like two people walking together—you never know when the other might stop, turn back, or take another path.” Shen Yan opened his umbrella. “I’ve said all I came to say. I’ll be staying in town for three days. I hope you’ll make your decision soon.”

       The black umbrella vanished into the rain.

       Qin Mu stood with his head bowed, unmoving for a long time.

       Rain poured down from all directions. Gusts of wind blew the water in, soaking the last dry patch of ground beneath his feet. Everything that had just happened felt like a damp, sorrowful dream, one that had seeped through and left a long, lingering ache.

       He walked a long way before realising he hadn’t opened his umbrella. His entire body was drenched, and the rain running down his face tasted salty and bitter.

       This was a familiar road. At the alley’s end stood Chef Fang’s restaurant. Entering and crossing the small dining hall led to the kitchen. At the sink, Shen Liu was bent over, washing fish. When water from a flicked tail spattered his face, he brushed it away with his shoulder.

       Qin Mu’s nose stung, tears sliding silently down his cheeks. He wanted to rush forward and embrace the man in front of him, but he didn’t move. Only when Shen Liu turned his head did he hurriedly look aside, wiping at his eyes.

       “How did you get so soaked? Where’s your umbrella?” That voice was familiar, gentle.

       “It got torn apart by the wind.” Qin Mu lifted his face, forcing a difficult smile. “Are you done? Do you need me to help?”

       “Go home and change clothes,” Shen Liu frowned. “You’ll catch a cold in the rain.”

       “All right.” Qin Mu turned quickly, striding out in haste.

       

       In the afternoon the rain stopped. By dinnertime, the little restaurant was lively. Qin Mu got through the busiest hours, left Shen Liu behind to wait for the last two tables to settle the bill, and went home to cook a few dishes.

       Stir-fried eggplant with soy paste, scrambled eggs with tomato, braised pork with preserved vegetables, plus some fish ball soup he’d packed from the restaurant. The little table was filled to the brim, and he and Shen Liu sat cross-legged on the floor.

       “Why such a feast today?” Shen Liu asked.

       “Been holding back for so long, I’ve been craving. Today I just want to have a good meal.” Qin Mu twisted open a bottle of Red Star Erguotou¹a well-known strong Chinese liquor, and poured a little into a disposable paper cup for him.

       “Greedy cat.” Shen Liu laughed, clinking his cup against his. “I wish my Little Log would always have plenty of good food, and always be happy.”

       Qin Mu’s eyes reddened; he hurriedly drained the cup in one go.

       “Don’t drink so much. Eat some food first, or you’ll be drunk soon.” Shen Liu pressed down the bottle to stop him.

       Qin Mu smiled. “You’re still looking after me?”

       “All right, you’ve grown up, I won’t mind you anymore.” Shen Liu’s gaze, under the warm yellow lamp, was unusually gentle. He picked a piece of meat for Qin Mu and said, “Eat more, don’t always go hungry.”

       The meat was a bit tough. Qin Mu chewed hard, but he couldn’t taste a thing.

       After dinner, when he cleared away the bowls and chopsticks, he found Shen Liu gazing out the window. Across the street, on the second floor of a teahouse, a large screen TV was hanging. From their window, one could see it, though at a distance and not very clearly. A basketball game was on; players in white and red jerseys feinted and struggled fiercely for the ball.

       Qin Mu sat down beside him. Shen Liu, out of habit, slipped an arm around his waist.

       Neither of them spoke. They watched the entire game in silence.

       Qin Mu asked, “Which team won?”

       “The white team,” Shen Liu replied. “I worked up a sweat today. I need to take a shower.”

       “Mm.” Qin Mu helped him up.

       Shen Liu’s right leg was in a cast and couldn’t touch water. He needed help bathing. Qin Mu always ended up soaking wet, so later he simply stripped down and washed with him.

       Qin Mu ran his fingers through Shen Liu’s hair, gently working the shampoo into a lather. The man kept his eyes closed, yielding to his touch like a lazy, contented cat—perfectly obedient.

       Unknowingly, Qin Mu’s nose burned again, and he turned his face away in a panic to grab the showerhead and rinse Shen Liu off.

       Suddenly, a clap of thunder exploded outside. The sound was so close it seemed to be right overhead. The power cut out instantly, plunging the bathroom into darkness.

       Qin Mu flinched, but Shen Liu caught his hand quickly, comforting him, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

       “We’d better turn off the water; there could be a leak.” His voice steadied.

       “Okay.” Shen Liu shut off the tap and asked, “Where’s the towel?”

       Qin Mu fumbled around, couldn’t find it, and knocked something over with a clatter.

       “Don’t look.” Shen Liu’s fingers slid from his neck up to his cheek, stroked across his lips, and in a hoarse voice said, “Kiss me.”

       Thunder roared. In the cramped darkness of the bathroom, they clung to each other.

       Wet skin pressed and rubbed together; fierce desire sparked a blazing fire. Qin Mu lifted Shen Liu’s injured leg and thrust in savagely, like a beast driven to the brink, leaving bite marks deep and shallow across the man’s body, demanding his kiss again and again. Shen Liu softened his waist, offering no resistance, yielding wholly to his ravaging. He was like a spring of water—gentle, clear.

       The darkness concealed the tear tracks, erased sincerity, and blurred their expressions. Words that could never be spoken dissolved into sighs of grief-laden breath, vanishing into the night.

       The rain pounded furiously against the windows. Wind slipped through the cracks, howling like someone’s helpless, grieving cry.

       The next morning, Qin Mu sat on the edge of the bed and whispered, “Shen Liu, let’s break up.”

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Author Note:
All historical references in the chapter are purely fictional.

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