The server paused slightly as he bent to place the glasses, the curve of his waist and hips momentarily caught in the eye of the man before him.
Pei Yusheng’s interest deepened.
Two crystal-clear glasses filled with ice were set on the table, the wine gradually coloring the liquid. Only after filling both glasses did the server straighten and lift his head, revealing a pair of clear, doe-like eyes.
He bowed politely in a standard attendant’s gesture, his expression perfectly respectful. “Sir, please enjoy.”
Then, carrying the tray, he moved directly to serve the others.
He had pretended not to hear Pei Yusheng’s earlier words.
Pei didn’t reach out to stop him, simply watched with quiet amusement.
From their first meeting, Pei Yusheng had noticed this boy, whose outward obedience masked hidden claws.
Tonight was no different: the boy’s manners were impeccable, yet his actions were anything but polite.
A small miracle, Pei thought.
This boy, like his name, was intriguing.
The room was dim, someone was wailing into a microphone, and Lian Qing chatted with others, oblivious to the small drama unfolding. After the bottles were opened and poured, the remaining work fell to the attendant. Pei watched as Qi Ji collected the tray and quietly slipped away.
His movements were light, catlike, silent on the floor.
The evening then devolved into chaotic games and endless toasts. Tonight’s focus was Pei Yusheng, and everyone eager to network with Lian Qing would not let the opportunity slip.
After a couple of rounds, Pei Yusheng remained unaffected by the drinking, while others flushed red, the atmosphere growing increasingly rowdy.
As he set down his glass, a slurred voice sounded nearby.
“Add… more ice to this… more ice…”
Clearly drunk, Lian Qing’s words were garbled. His tolerance was usually good, so Pei noticed this was unusual.
Because Lian Qing hadn’t chosen a hostess, another attendant was responsible for his wine. Pei intervened, taking Lian Qing’s glass to prevent the wine from going straight down his clothes.
Lian Qing reached for more, but Pei handed him a glass of lemonade instead. The bottle had been opened, the attendants attentive, eager to keep up appearances.
Still, it wasn’t long before Lian Qing began to feel nauseous. He leaned on the sofa, attempting to stand for the restroom. A hand reached out to help, but he slapped it away.
“Smack!”
In the brief silence as the music changed, the sharp slap echoed clearly. Heads turned.
Pei Yusheng glanced at the time, stood, and said: “Take your time, everyone.”
Then he followed Lian Qing out of the private room.
The corridor beyond was quiet, the soundproofing excellent. Pei followed behind Lian Qing and the attendant, earbuds in, casually glancing at the corner camera.
Lian Qing staggered, his steps uneven. The attendant didn’t dare touch him, carefully guiding him along as he nearly stepped on his own feet.
Near the washroom, Pei motioned the attendant away and entered with Lian Qing.
The club’s interior was exquisitely decorated. Even the washroom exuded elegance. Several stalls were occupied; only the last one was free, slightly smaller than the rest, its door and lock subtly different.
But all facilities were complete, fully functional.
Lian Qing leaned over the sink for a long while, but couldn’t vomit, making him feel worse.
Pei Yusheng leaned against the door, watching. “Gonna be sick? Need help?”
Lian Qing, still agitated, tugged at his collar, startled by the offer. “N-no, I’m fine!”
Even drunk, he remembered the last time Pei had helped him when he was sick. Pei, freshly retired, had pressed certain points on his arm, sending a shock of numbness through him, forcing him to vomit violently—nearly choking—and left Lian Qing sore for weeks.
The memory was enough to make him refuse this time.
He splashed water from the automatic faucet onto his face, carelessly, drenching his collar and sleeves. Droplets clung to his flushed cheeks, his ponytail damp and messy.
But beauty remained beauty; even drunk, he looked intoxicating. Lian Qing’s bleary-eyed reflection in the mirror was still captivating.
Pei, earbuds in one ear, paused at the sound of splashing water and looked up.
“Tell me, what’s wrong?”
Lian Qing’s expression was off. The rapid drinking had been unusual.
He drew a deep breath, propping himself against the marble counter.
In the crystal mirror, the reflection of a flushed, red-eyed beauty stared back.
“Damn it… it’s that piece of shit from the Fang family!”
The words shattered any lingering haze of intoxication or charm.
Lian Qing, furious, unleashed a string of curses, drunk anger overriding restraint in front of Pei.
“Do you know what the Third Fang told Dad? He said there was still a spot for someone at Fadun and tried to send me there! As if I’d leave the country, fine, fed up, just to be toyed with!”
Pei rotated his phone idly.
“And your dad?”
“What could he do? He’s always trying to curry favor with the Fangs. Hearing that, he practically bought the ticket on the spot.”
Lian Qing slammed a fist on the sink.
“With Lian Ming egging him on, I swear he nearly sent me straight to Third Fang’s bed!”
Pei glanced thoughtfully at his idle phone.
“How many times have I told him? I’m as straight as the flagpole in Longmen Square. Whoever wants to sell their ass can go, I’m not babysitting anyone!”
Lian Qing’s ears reddened, anger sharpening his already striking features.
“Damn it… if I’d known Third Fang would be this annoying, I should’ve smashed more bottles when you fought him ten years ago in B City…”
The infamous brawl that had erupted between Pei Yusheng and Fang Yangzhou—once friends of the families—had soured relations permanently and cemented Pei’s notorious reputation.
Realizing his slip, Lian Qing quickly apologized. “Sorry, Er Ge… didn’t mean to bring it up.”
“And Dad’s been overly keen to connect with the Fangs, won’t listen to me…”
“It’s fine. S City is their territory,” Pei said calmly.
“And Er Ge, you’re here…”
“What can I do?” Pei smiled faintly. “You worried someone would screw with me?”
Lian Qing, drunk and slurring, admitted, “I’m not doubting you… just worried.”
“I know. It’s fine,” Pei said. “Take care of yourself first. Lay off the fast drinks.”
“Yeah.”
Lian Qing nodded, gradually calming. His trust in Pei was unwavering; if Pei said it was fine, it was fine.
“I get it. Thanks, Er Ge.”
As he steadied himself against the counter, the alcohol hit him again, and dizziness set in.
“Still don’t get it… why did you come to Huating…”
Pei saw his intoxicated state and didn’t explain. “Don’t think too much. Wash your face, make it clean.”
Lian Qing, soaked with water droplets, muttered: “I’ll wash… just want to dry my face.”
He dabbed at his wet cheeks, searched for a towel in vain.
“….”
Pei reached over, took a warm towel from a nearby shelf, unwrapped it, and handed it to him.
He casually tossed the packaging into a gilded trash can across the room with precise accuracy.
Lian Qing, messy and wet, couldn’t resist complaining as he wiped his face.
“Er Ge… that Third Fang, always with his ice-cube poker face… Dad and Lian Ming keep making me deal with this crap. So annoying… I’m not a girl, but even if I were, there’s no way I’d like him… seriously, there are plenty of girls out there…”
Pei, about to lead him back, heard the rambling and glanced at his phone, a faint smile on his lips.
“Oh? Then what kind of person do you like?”
“I…I like…gentle, innocent, soft little girls…” Lian Qing actually started thinking seriously. “Ones with dimples when they smile…super sweet…”
He mumbled this as Pei Yusheng pulled the door open. Someone seemed to be coming in, and Lian Qing, dizzy, glanced up, then suddenly smiled.
“Yeah…just like that… I like little girls who are obedient and cute…smiling all adorable…”
He staggered, nearly toppling into someone.
“Huh…?”
Dizzy and foggy, Lian Qing suddenly found himself being steadied by a little girl who, despite looking delicate and fragile, had enough strength to catch him in one hand.
A low laugh came from behind—Pei Yusheng.
“He is…pretty cute,” he murmured.
The girl holding the swaying Lian Qing forced a polite smile at Pei’s comment, almost breaking under the weight of it.
“However,” Pei Yusheng stood aside, arms folded, his voice leisurely, “he’s not a little girl, and he’s not obedient at all.”
“…”
Qi Ji drew a deep breath, pretending not to hear.
He resumed the role of the respectful attendant. “Sir…”
But before he could finish, a hand suddenly lifted his chin.
A shiver ran along his pale neck; Qi Ji frowned.
“Hm…?”
Lian Qing, drunk but gentle, leaned closer to Qi Ji, staring at him for a long moment.
Even drunk, he smelled faintly of intoxicating perfume rather than the usual stench of alcohol, his face flushed, skin radiant.
Qi Ji, however, had no interest in the fragrance. His only thought was to shake this hand away.
Just as he was about to risk his pay to do so, the pressure on his jaw disappeared, and the figure in front of him suddenly stepped back.
“Ow…ow…!”
Lian Qing yelped as Pei Yusheng yanked him back by the collar, making his neck ache.
Qi Ji rubbed his chin silently.
“Er Ge, why’d you pull me away? She’s…just a little girl, right?” Lian Qing looked utterly confused.
Qi Ji’s temple tensed with a vein.
“She’s not even…grown up yet…still small…” Lian Qing mumbled.
Pei Yusheng let him go after dragging him half a meter away. “You might prefer someone a bit older.”
Qi Ji inhaled deeply, speaking gently: “Sir, your friend seems drunk. Shall I help you get him back to your room?”
Better to get him out first.
Pei Yusheng checked the time and actually nodded. “Fine, let’s go.”
“Very well.” Qi Ji smiled politely, attentive. “By the way, this washroom is for staff only. Next time, the front stalls are more comfortable.”
The unspoken message: they were in the wrong stall.
Pei Yusheng raised an eyebrow. “Fine.”
He glanced at the time. “Take him back. If anyone asks, just say I went to tidy up and will return later.”
“Yes, sir.”
Qi Ji’s tone remained polite but distant. Pei’s gaze, however, lingered on the black-and-white attendant uniform.
To be honest, Pei Yusheng had never been particularly aware of the word aesthetic—until he heard Qi Ji say “sir.” Suddenly, it took on a whole new meaning.
Qi Ji didn’t notice. He pushed the stall door open.
Pei stood aside. Taller than Qi Ji, he could see from the top button of the loosely fitted shirt down to the boy’s smooth collarbones and a small patch of pale skin inside.
And the faint pink fingerprints still visible on his jaw.
He added, “My friend doesn’t like being held. Just guide him from the front.”
Qi Ji, glad to avoid contact, said “Please follow me,” and stepped forward.
Lian Qing, still dizzy, hadn’t fully registered. “She…she left…”
Pei Yusheng lifted his chin. “Go with him first.”
“Uh…” Lian Qing nodded obediently, calling after Qi Ji. “Little girl, wait for me…!”
As they left, Pei Yusheng exited the washroom, but didn’t return to the private room. Instead, he headed to another room.
He had considered bringing Lian Qing along, but changed his mind after hearing the boy’s complaints in the washroom.
Over twenty minutes later, Pei Yusheng left the room, still wearing his earbuds, now giving polite navigation prompts for avoiding people in the corridor.
“Right turn ahead blocked, proceed straight and use Passage Nine to return to your room.”
As he approached the right-turn corridor, he faintly caught a sound from the far end.
His pace slowed.
Pei Yusheng’s hearing was exceptional. Even small sounds around the corner carried a familiar tone.
He stepped closer, tilting slightly, and saw in the corner a middle-aged man in a manager’s uniform.
Due to the angle, the man didn’t see Pei.
“Don’t think just because you guide rich people you’ll get close to them,” the manager sneered.
Getting closer, his harsh tone became clearer.
“Finish this task properly, or don’t even think about taking your pay this week!”
Pei Yusheng glanced at the person opposite the manager. The familiar figure made him raise an eyebrow.
No wonder the voice sounded so familiar.
The man stood sideways, slender, soft hair, a narrow waist that could almost be grasped in one hand.
It was Qi Ji.