Shen Yuan had seen his uncle’s new girlfriend on TV. The show she starred in was blowing up online recently, promoted everywhere.
Her name was Lin Zhihui, thirty-eight this year, though she barely looked past thirty—part good genes, part meticulous maintenance. At her age, most actresses could no longer land youthful roles, yet she played the Empress Dowager in a historical drama, stunning and regal.
In person, she was even prettier than on screen. After more than a decade navigating the entertainment industry’s vanity fair, she had a presence ordinary people didn’t. Her manners were elegant and warm; even when talking to someone for the first time, she never let the conversation die.
One day, Wang Ziqin dragged Shen Yuan out to “have some fun,” saying he was hosting a party and Shen Yuan had to show up—otherwise he’d be disrespecting him.
When Shen Yuan arrived, they were already going wild. Music blasted so loud it shook the walls. People were dancing, drinking, making out—some straight-up hooking up in corners.
Wang Ziqin lounged on the couch like some debauched young emperor, shirt half open, lipstick marks smeared across his cheeks, neck, and chest. Three different women hovered around him, all over him. The whole scene was scorching.
Everyone else wasn’t far behind, bodies tangled all over the floor and furniture.
Shen Yuan’s expression never changed—calm, indifferent—even though he was thoroughly disgusted inside.
It wasn’t the first time Wang Ziqin had hosted a party like this, but it was the first time he’d invited Shen Yuan. There’d been one earlier occasion where he’d thought Shen Yuan was in the way and kicked him out. So Shen Yuan wasn’t sure what Wang Ziqin wanted this time.
Seeing the empty bottles and half-finished fruit platters, Shen Yuan tactfully—and a bit fawningly—asked, “Young Master Wang, what would you like to drink? I can mix something for you. Should I get you another fruit plate?”
Wang Ziqin lifted his head, eyes hazy from alcohol, and gave him a lazy, mocking smile.
“Did I tell you to?”
“…Then what do you want me to do?”
Shen Yuan was too calm for his liking, which irritated him further.
“Come here.”
Shen Yuan hesitated, then stepped closer. Out of nowhere, Wang Ziqin kicked him—hard.
“You’re getting more and more disobedient,” he slurred. “Last time you left early without telling me. Didn’t bother to explain afterward either. Shen Yuan, am I nothing to you? Don’t forget who’s been covering for you all these years.”
The kick landed solidly, catching somewhere that hurt like a pulled muscle. The point was humiliation, and Shen Yuan let himself drop to his knees accordingly. He’d always been able to endure Wang Ziqin’s mockery—but for some reason, a flash of Qiao Hailou crossed his mind. Even in front of Qiao Hailou, he’d never ended up like this. Why was he kneeling to Wang Ziqin?
Off to the side, Han Feng watched, remembered the stupid thing he’d done to Shen Yuan last time, and felt a little guilty. He stepped in.
“Alright, Young Master Wang, leave it. I don’t think Shen Yuan meant anything by it. He’d had too much to drink that day.”
Then he changed the topic entirely.
“Hey, Shen Yuan, I heard your dad’s shacking up with some actress?”
K City’s rich-boy circle was tiny. Shen Yuan’s “perfect gentleman” stepfather seemed to be heading toward remarriage, and his new partner was supposedly an over-the-hill, washed-up starlet. Word had already gone around. They’d seen plenty of older men play with actresses; none of them thought much of women from the entertainment industry. Not respectable. A joke waiting to happen.
Great. Just what he wanted to talk about.
Shen Yuan said awkwardly, “It’s… a matter between elders. It’s not really my place. You know I’m Shen, not Li.”
Han Feng chuckled. “True enough.”
Then he pulled Shen Yuan aside and asked, eyes gleaming,
“So… how was it?”
“…How was what?”
“That night at the club. Wasn’t it your first time? That’s why you didn’t go back to tell Wang Shao.”
Shen Yuan’s heart jumped, color draining from his face. He’d been seen? “What—what do you mean?”
Han Feng cleared his throat.
“I made a drink with something in it. It was meant for some girl, but you drank it by accident. Then you said you were going to the bathroom and vanished. I even called two gorgeous girls to help you ‘solve the problem,’ but what a waste…”
Shen Yuan froze.
Then everything connected at once.
He did drink something Han Feng handed him. And right before that, Han Feng had been trying to get a girl drunk—
Holy—!
So that weird feeling that night…
This idiot had made him drink a drugged cocktail!
If not for that drink, he never would’ve ended up tangled up with that pervert, falling deeper each time—
Shen Yuan’s insides burned with fury. He wanted to smash a fist into Han Feng’s grinning face, but he couldn’t let anything show.
Before he could say anything, someone yanked him backward by the collar.
Wang Ziqin.
“What are you two whispering about?”
Han Feng snickered.
“Talking about how your little Shen finally lost his virginity.”
Wang Ziqin blinked, then looked at Shen Yuan.
“You’re not a virgin anymore?”
And Han Feng—idiot that he was—animatedly retold the whole story as if it were a hilarious joke. No matter what Shen Yuan said, they ignored him; his panic only made it funnier. The room exploded with laughter, treating him like some performing monkey.
Wang Ziqin laughed too. But as he watched Shen Yuan’s face redden with shame and embarrassment, an unfamiliar feeling stirred inside him.
For a split second, the image of a middle-aged man carrying a younger guy out of a restroom flickered through his mind.
He shoved Shen Yuan.
“And then? Where did you go after?”
Face burning, Shen Yuan muttered, “I—I just found some woman to take care of it. What else could I do?”
Wang Ziqin sneered.
“She must’ve been unlucky, having to sleep with a little chick like you. Did she give you a red envelope for the occasion?”
Laughter erupted again.
Shen Yuan clenched his fists, then forced himself to loosen them. Red-faced, he laughed weakly.
“Please don’t joke about me, Young Master Wang.”
“You really have no dignity,” Wang Ziqin scoffed.
Shen Yuan played along, self-deprecating.
“If I were tall and strong like you, how could I still be a virgin at my age? It’s not like I wanted to be. But hanging around with you guys, what beauty would look twice at me? I had no choice—someone had to be paid to do it.”
The line drew another round of laughter.
Shen Yuan refilled Wang Ziqin’s glass.
“You guys want to see some mixing? I learned a few tricks lately.”
…
Shen Yuan’s main skill was simple—he could hold his liquor. And these spoiled rich kids had already had plenty. After a few rounds with him, they all passed out.
Bodies sprawled everywhere, Shen Yuan stayed sober enough to clean up a bit.
He headed to the bathroom. The downstairs one was locked—probably occupied by people messing around—so he went upstairs and found a guy hugging the toilet, vomiting.
Ding Xiangyu.
Seeing him in bad shape, Shen Yuan fetched him some water and handed him a pill.
“Take some medicine.”
They were both at the bottom of the hierarchy in this circle—Shen Yuan the lowest, Ding Xiangyu second. But Shen Yuan still felt Ding Xiangyu had it better. His parents were alive; they just ran a small business and sent him to a fancy school so he could make connections.
Ding Xiangyu didn’t take the pill, but he sipped the water.
“…Sorry. I couldn’t help you just now.”
“It’s fine,” Shen Yuan said casually.
They weren’t close. Ding Xiangyu had never needed anything from him. They rarely spoke privately.
Ding Xiangyu asked, “Wang Ziqin treats you like that… don’t you have any pride?”
Shen Yuan gave a small laugh.
Was that question even worth asking?
This time, he didn’t dare leave without saying anything. He went to the drunken Wang Ziqin collapsed on the sofa and said, “Young Master Wang, if there’s nothing else, I’ll head out first.”
He assumed Wang Ziqin was out cold. But upon hearing him, Wang Ziqin stirred awake.
“…Help me… to my room.”
Shen Yuan had no choice. He pulled him upstairs. Wang Ziqin’s weight pressed heavily on him, and the leg he’d been kicked earlier still throbbed. It took effort, but he finally got him into bed and exhaled in relief, ready to leave—
When Wang Ziqin suddenly grabbed his wrist.
“So…” he slurred, “did it feel good? Sex?”
Shen Yuan turned back.
“What position did you use with that woman? I can’t picture you doing it with a girl—ha.”
Shen Yuan stayed silent and tried to pull his hand free.
“Young Master Wang, you’re drunk…”
But he refused to let go. His drunken rambling only got worse.
“Shen Yuan, stop with that stupid jewelry design or whatever. Worthless. Work for me instead. Be my butler? My secretary? You’re good at serving people, aren’t you?”
“I’ll pay—pay you… lots. Way more than some designer crap. Service is service… If you… stick with me… you just… just gotta keep me… comfortable…”
Shen Yuan mentally cursed his ancestors eighteen generations back.
If life weren’t this difficult, would he endure this bastard every day? One day he’d study abroad or make something of himself—then he wouldn’t have to put up with any of this.
Wang Ziqin was dreaming too big. Being a little errand runner sometimes was one thing, but being his servant for life?!
Ridiculous.
Shen Yuan finally managed to free his hand. He forced a smile.
“You always joke when you’re drunk.”
He moved to leave.
Wang Ziqin threw a pillow at him.
“Did I say you could go?”
Shen Yuan stopped, closed his eyes briefly, and said, “I’m just getting you a warm towel. To wipe your face.”
He wasn’t lying. He went to the washroom, soaked a towel in warm water, wrung it out, and returned.
Wang Ziqin grabbed his hand and pressed the warm towel to his own face. The heat was soothing, and he soon drifted off.
Shen Yuan finally breathed out, tidied up a bit, and slipped away.
What a pain.
When would he ever be free of this entire group of idiots?
Shen Yuan left and headed back to campus.
He’d been drinking, so he’d taken a designated driver. After the car was parked and he walked out of the lot—
He ran straight into Qiao Hailou.
Shen Yuan froze. Seeing no one else around, he immediately snapped, “Didn’t I tell you not to come looking for me? You really treat your own word like crap!”
Qiao Hailou shot back, “You narcissist. You think the only reason I’d come to K University is for you? I’m here to see Qiao Jun.”
Shen Yuan thought about it. Fair enough.
Why had he gotten so full of himself? His anger fizzled, and he muttered, “Oh. Then… go find him. I’m leaving.”
Qiao Hailou had been expecting him to bare his teeth again. Instead, Shen Yuan backed down. Unexpected.
As he watched Shen Yuan walk away, something caught his eye—
“Your leg. What happened to it?”