Category: Surrender 4 (Page 2 of 6)

Chapter 43

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

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

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

        A simple inquiry would reveal the connection between the two.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        Truly, a fated misfortune.

        He gave a silent, bitter laugh in his heart.

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

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

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

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

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

        “You flatter me.”

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

        *Tsk, these two are definitely up to something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        “Then…”

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

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

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

        [Welcome, new member ‘Sphinx.’]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        Lu Cheng’s eyelid twitched. His fists tightened.

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

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

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

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

        “Does he satisfy you?” Shen Liu asked.

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

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

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

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

        He really wasn’t giving him a chance.

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

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

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

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

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

        He had misunderstood.

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

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

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

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


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Chapter 42.5 – A Little Band-Aid

On the night of December 31, 2019,

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

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

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

Ye-ge: Where’s Lion?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yu: ?

Ye-ge: …

Lion Doesn’t Eat People: Hahaha.

Cat Catching Mouse: Hahaha.

Mouse Teasing Cat: Hahaha.

Outstanding Original Joy: [Brother, take care img10]

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

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

Water Carries the Boat: Thanks.

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

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

Mouse Catching Cat: Exactly.

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

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

The Log Has Become a Boat: Get lost.

Water Carries the Boat: [crying img11]

Water Carries the Boat: [want a hug img12]

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

Two minutes passed.

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

Mouse Teasing Cat: Happy New Year.

Cat Catching Mouse: Happy New Year.

Lion Doesn’t Eat People: Happy New Year.

Outstanding Original Joy: Happy New Year.

Yu: Happy New Year.

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

Yu: On the way.

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

Ye-ge: Almost forgot—Happy New Year.

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

In the new year, he would try his best.


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


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Chapter 42

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       That swindler had paid his tuition for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       “Yes.”

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

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

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

       It was Lu Cheng.

       Qin Mu patted his head. “Waited long?”

       “Not long, Master.”

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

       “Yes, Master.”

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

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

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

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

       “Mm.”

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

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

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

       And there was someone beside him.

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

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

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


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


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Chapter 41

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

       Zhao Qiming closed his eyes.

       The dust had settled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       In truth, everyone in the Shen family was lonely.

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

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

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

       I wish to take the sword at my waist

       And go straight to cut down Loulan.”

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Qin Mu nodded.

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

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

       Both of them fell silent for a while.

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

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

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

       Shen Liu was the first to speak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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


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Chapter 40

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       He saw Qin Mu at first glance.

       Their eyes met.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       “No need,” Qin Mu said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Shen Yan’s brow twitched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Shen Yan’s pupils contracted sharply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       What else was hidden in this web of calculations?

       Qin Mu didn’t want to think anymore.

       He was tired.

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

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


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


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Chapter 39

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       He was old.

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

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

       So—they were going to fight.

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

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

       

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Shen Liu’s pupils contracted sharply.


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


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Chapter 38

       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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Chapter 37

       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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Chapter 36

       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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Chapter 35

       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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