Month: December 2025 (Page 3 of 3)

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

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

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

        A simple inquiry would reveal the connection between the two.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        Truly, a fated misfortune.

        He gave a silent, bitter laugh in his heart.

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

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

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

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

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

        “You flatter me.”

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

        *Tsk, these two are definitely up to something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        “Then…”

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

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

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

        [Welcome, new member ‘Sphinx.’]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        Lu Cheng’s eyelid twitched. His fists tightened.

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

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

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

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

        “Does he satisfy you?” Shen Liu asked.

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

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

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

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

        He really wasn’t giving him a chance.

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

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

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

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

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

        He had misunderstood.

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

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

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

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

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On the night of December 31, 2019,

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

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

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

Ye-ge: Where’s Lion?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yu: ?

Ye-ge: …

Lion Doesn’t Eat People: Hahaha.

Cat Catching Mouse: Hahaha.

Mouse Teasing Cat: Hahaha.

Outstanding Original Joy: [Brother, take care img¹⁰]

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

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

Water Carries the Boat: Thanks.

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

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

Mouse Catching Cat: Exactly.

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

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

The Log Has Become a Boat: Get lost.

Water Carries the Boat: [crying img¹¹]

Water Carries the Boat: [want a hug img¹²]

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

Two minutes passed.

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

Mouse Teasing Cat: Happy New Year.

Cat Catching Mouse: Happy New Year.

Lion Doesn’t Eat People: Happy New Year.

Outstanding Original Joy: Happy New Year.

Yu: Happy New Year.

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

Yu: On the way.

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

Ye-ge: Almost forgot—Happy New Year.

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

In the new year, he would try his best.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       That swindler had paid his tuition for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       “Yes.”

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

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

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

       It was Lu Cheng.

       Qin Mu patted his head. “Waited long?”

       “Not long, Master.”

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

       “Yes, Master.”

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

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

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

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

       “Mm.”

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

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

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

       And there was someone beside him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Zhao Qiming closed his eyes.

       The dust had settled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       In truth, everyone in the Shen family was lonely.

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

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

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

       I wish to take the sword at my waist

       And go straight to cut down Loulan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Qin Mu nodded.

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

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

       Both of them fell silent for a while.

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

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

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

       Shen Liu was the first to speak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       He saw Qin Mu at first glance.

       Their eyes met.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       “No need,” Qin Mu said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Shen Yan’s brow twitched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

       Shen Yan’s pupils contracted sharply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

       What else was hidden in this web of calculations?

       Qin Mu didn’t want to think anymore.

       He was tired.

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

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

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

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