At the same time, Zhao Jinchuan stepped out from the inner room in his robe, face dark as he sat down on the sofa. He asked coldly, “What happened?”
The man in the dark suit stood stiffly, tension evident in his posture. “Around dusk, Baldy and his men took three guys to the Hyatt…”
“Is it time for bedtime stories now?” Zhao Jinchuan held a cigar between two fingers. His secretary, Huang Jing, leaned in to light it. Zhao Jinchuan raised his brows and snapped, “Stick to the important part!”
“…Okay.” Rattled, the man sped up. “At first everything went smoothly. That lawyer got scared and promised not to cause trouble. But just as Baldy was about to cut off his finger, sirens suddenly blared. The guys all have criminal records, so they had to retreat first. Later, we checked the security footage and realised it was a setup. There were no cops—just six people who took the lawyer and drove off in a car with fake plates.”
Zhao Jinchuan took a drag of his cigar. “Did you chop off the finger?”
“…Didn’t get the chance.”
“Who intercepted him?”
“For now… We don’t know yet.” He tightened his back, “We got an ‘insider’ to pull regional surveillance. The car stayed at an abandoned warehouse in the southern suburbs for a bit, then went southwest. Probably got repainted after that and we lost track.”
“The job was not done well, the target’s gone, and you can’t even figure out who took him,” Zhao Jinchuan said, eyes narrowing. “So you came all the way here in the middle of the night just to tell me that you’re all useless pieces of shit?”
Cold sweat broke out on the man’s back. He lowered his head, too afraid to make a sound.
In the haze of cigar smoke, Zhao Jinchuan’s face took on the eerie calm of a temple deity—aloof and unreadable. He spoke casually, “I told you to leave him one pinky. Since his can’t be chopped off, I’ll chop off yours.”
As soon as the words fell, two men stepped forward and grabbed the suited man by the arms. His scalp went numb, and his legs buckling as he dropped to his knees, face ashen.
“Young Master Chuan… please, just give me one more chance. Just one day, tomorrow—I swear I’ll find out everything!”
Zhao Jinchuan’s mouth curled into a smile. “You’ve been with me for a while. I always thought you were steady; I figured it was time for you to experience things. But this job—was it so hard?”
He held up a pinky finger and wiggled it. “Just a little lawyer. Just a little finger. I could have pulled some punks off the street, and they could have done better. I feed you, protect you, and now I have to clean up your mess? Are you taking me for a fool?”
A layer of rage appeared on his face, and he said coldly, “Chop it off!”
The two guards moved at his command. One slammed the man’s hand to the floor, the other swiftly drew a knife. With a flash of cold steel and a bloodcurdling scream, the pinky was severed. A small finger was cut off, with some flesh still attached to it. The blade cut it into two.
The ten fingers were all connected to the heart. The man writhed on the floor, clutching his hand and howling in agony.
Zhao Jinchuan lazily tilted his chin. “I’ll give you one more shot. If you’ve figured it out by the time I wake up, it’s fine. But if you still don’t know anything—then you won’t be needing that right hand anymore.”
The man was ghost-pale, sweat streaming down his face. He trembled and choked out, “I understand.”
Zhao Jinchuan flicked the half-smoked cigar into the ashtray Huang Jing held out for him, then rose and returned to the bedroom. Huang Jing quietly closed the door, sealing off the woman’s giggles and gasps within. As he turned back, he saw blood still dripping between the man’s fingers.
He frowned. “Go to the hospital and get that handled.”
Then, he turned to the others still standing nearby and said coldly, “You all know what kind of temper he has. Today’s incident was strange—things must be explained even if you digs three feet deep. That guy’s already useless now. If this drags on, any one of you could be next. So stay sharp. Stop wasting time tripping each other up and laughing behind backs. Why would that car stop in the southern suburbs? Why would it vanish? Whose turf is down south? You’d better start thinking.”
Everyone hurried out with tense nods. The small sitting room emptied. Huang Jing pushed open the window, letting a gust of cold and damp air rush in and clear the room of lingering smoke.
He stood by the window, staring at the dark sky in a trance.
Qin Mu woke up in the dark. He had tossed and turned for hours before finally falling asleep, only to be caught in one strange dream after another, each more bizarre than the last. His brain had seemingly triggered some sort of ‘divergent thinking’ mode, keeping him up all night. Now, he felt groggy and dazed.
It was raining outside, and the raindrops tapped softly against the windows. K City was always raining—like a devoted woman weeping endlessly, soaking everyone to the bone. If one stayed here long enough, mushrooms might sprout from your head.
Still halfway between sleep and wakefulness, Qin Mu stared at the ceiling for a long time in the familiar sound of rain before realising that this was not his home.
The alarm he had set for 7:30 had been turned off—by some meddling bastard with quick fingers—and now it was almost 9:30. The closet was full of clothes, seemingly all Shen Liu’s. Qin Mu picked out a loose gray sweater and threw it on. After a quick wash, he headed out and found the owner of the house in the upstairs dining room—munching on a pineapple bun while watching TV.
On the wall-mounted screen, a variety talent show was playing. A group of well-dressed young women were dancing, all curves and creamy white thighs.
“Good morning.” Shen Liu seemed to have eyes on his back, and he knew he was here without turning his head. “Did you sleep well last night?”
“Pretty well.” Qin Mu sat at the round table with a chair between them. The housekeeper served Cantonese-style dimsum. Plump hargow wrapped in translucent skins, bursting with juicy flavour—on par with anything a five-star restaurant could offer. He ate three in a row. Just as he picked up the fourth, he noticed Shen Liu watching him.
Qin Mu looked up and asked, “Should I be worried about a bill?”
Shen Liu smiled. “No need.”
“Then maybe focus on the TV. I’m prone to indigestion if you stare at me like this”
“A bit full of yourself, aren’t you?” Shen Liu leaned his head against his hand, still watching him. “I was clearly looking at the hargow. Lawyer Qin, is it a crime to admire shrimp dumplings?”
Qin Mu knew all too well that with Shen Liu’s shameless logic, he could spin a thousand ‘perfectly reasonable’ excuses in seconds. So he didn’t bother arguing—just lowered his head and continued eating.
He wasn’t bothered by other people’s gaze.
He didn’t care about the gazes of others; in fact, whether during courtroom debates or in private moments of playful ‘intimacy’, he was accustomed to commanding people’s attention, relishing the sensation of being watched.
But Shen Liu’s gaze was different.
It was bolder, more intense—carrying a kind of unavoidable aggression. Like a lion that had wandered in uninvited, baring its fangs in a display of dominance, testing his limits.
Qin Mu was so uncomfortable being looked at. He finally snapped and put his chopsticks down with a thud.
But Shen Liu, ever thoughtful, slid a bowl of ginger milk pudding over to him. “Try this—made especially for you. The chef’s a master at this dish.”
Qin Mu, chopstick tips still pressed to the table and on the verge of storming off, “…”
He hesitated between storming off and continuing to eat. After half a second, he picked up the spoon. He was still hungry, and truth be told, it was really good.
Shen Liu, having succeeded in his ‘feeding mission’, watched him eat with satisfaction, and couldn’t resist grabbing a bowl for himself.
Trying to make small talk, he asked, “So what do you usually do in your downtime?”
“Read. Work out. Play games.”
Shen Liu perked up. “What kind of games? PUBG? Honor of Kings? Or…?”
“Candy Crush.”
Shen Liu: “…”
Clearly sensing the judgment, Qin Mu lifted his eyes and said, “What?”
“Nothing. Healthy hobbies. Positive and uplifting. A model youth of the new era.” Shen Liu replied insincerely, giving him a thumbs-up.
Qin Mu returned the weighty sarcasm right back, word for word, “Still not as passionate as your idol-chasing. Youthful spirit in an aging body—truly touching.”
“Everyone appreciates beauty. Young bodies are like freshly ripened fruit hanging on a tree—bright, plump, bursting with life. That’s when they’re most tempting.” Shen Liu smiled, unbothered. “I’m only looking. No intention of picking or… playing. Don’t worry.”
The final two words dangled like a soft, furry cat’s tail, brushing suggestively across Qin Mu’s skin—provocative, teasing. It sparked an itch, subtle and elusive. But if he made a fuss about it, it would only seem petty.
Qin Mu acted like he hadn’t heard, calmly finishing the last spoonful of pudding. Then he put down his spoon and asked, “Where’s my luggage?”
“Missing anything? I’ll have it prepared.”
Qin Mu stared at him without expression.
“I had someone check your room yesterday. Didn’t find it.” Shen Liu’s face was all earnestness.
Qin Mu lowered his gaze and said, “There is no need for us to beat around the bush. You know why I came and what I want to do.”
He had already considered the whole picture. If not for a prior warning, even the powerful Shen family couldn’t have swooped in at that exact moment and rescued him, much less orchestrated such a clean exit strategy.
Chu Yu must’ve been worried that the Golden Eagle group in J City couldn’t keep him safe, so they had brought in Shen Liu—the local powerhouse—to intervene. And once Shen Liu caught wind of it, he would’ve investigated everything.
“Whatever reason you came here for—it ends now.” The smile vanished from Shen Liu’s lips, replaced with rare seriousness. “The Zhao family isn’t something your righteous fervor can shake. You can’t win this case.”
Qin Mu said calmly, “We haven’t even stepped into court yet. Isn’t it a little early to say that?”
“Some outcomes are obvious.” Shen Liu idly spun the spoon in his bowl, his dark brown eyes resting steadily on Qin Mu’s face. “Do you know why lions can’t deal with hyenas? Because hyenas come in groups and are hard to guard against. They have no rules and ignore fairness. They’ll scrap over rotten meat with no shame or bottom line, and use the filthiest tricks over and over again. Those people are the same. Their battlefield isn’t the courtroom. Their goal isn’t to win the case. It’s to eliminate the problem—or the person who raises it. The law means nothing to them.”
Silence in the face of evil is no better than letting it thrive,” Qin Mu replied calmly, “Law only stands for justice because people fight to uphold it. Even if they control the skies, someone still has to light the first lantern in the dark—”
“Whoever wants to light it can do it, but not you.” Shen Liu cut him off, his patience completely gone. Usually, he wore that lazy and affable smile that made him seem easy to get along with. But when his face turned cold, the air around him sharpened like ice—like a fully cranked AC unit chilling the room in seconds. He rarely persuaded someone with such earnest words at length, but this time he had. And the man across from him hadn’t listened to a single damn word.
With all his heartfelt concern thrown to the dogs, Lord Shen ditched the nice-guy act and let a rough edge creep into his tone. “I’ve confiscated your luggage, and you’re not leaving. This is my turf. I make the rules.”
Qin Mu was silent for a moment.
“I understand your good intentions, and I’m grateful you stepped in to save me. Before I came here, I had already considered the worst-case scenario. Sometimes in life, there are moments you simply can’t back down from. Even if I don’t get a good outcome, I at least want to live with a clear conscience.”
He met Shen Liu’s eyes. “You’re part of the Shen family, and right now, things are too politically sensitive for you to be dragged into this. I’ve contacted friends in J City. I’ll be careful from now on. You don’t need to worry.”
“Well aren’t you considerate,” Shen Liu let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “So what—you want me to just stand by and watch you walk straight into the fire? You really think if Teacher Xiao had any say from the afterlife, he wouldn’t throw down a lightning bolt and zap some sense into that thick skull of yours?”
“Shen Liu—”
“There’s nothing more to say.” Shen Liu stood up.
“As of now, this case has nothing to do with you. Until things blow over, you’re staying here where it’s safe. You can try to run if you want—but my advice? Don’t even think about it.”
Qin Mu grabbed his wrist, frowning. “I’m not joking around with you—”
“Neither am I.” Shen Liu leaned down, radiating a powerful, dominant pressure. He braced one hand against the back of Qin Mu’s chair and deliberately softened his voice—like a whisper of something too close, too intimate.
“Disobedient boys get tied up and spanked. So be good, hmm?”
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