Mu Yao was Pei Jingchen’s high school classmate.
Pei Jingchen couldn’t say whether he liked the guy or not, but he certainly didn’t dislike him. As for Mu Yao? He practically had Pei Jingchen’s face tattooed over his heart for all the world to see!
Mu Yao’s background was nothing short of a soap opera. He was the Mu family’s illegitimate son. His father had an affair with his mother while married, then pulled a cliché idol drama stunt by creating a fake identity. Later, she became pregnant out of wedlock with Mu Yao. When the legitimate wife caught them in the act, his father’s infidelity was exposed. Enraged, his mother fled with the baby—and stayed gone for over a decade. She ran, he chased; she couldn’t escape his pursuit. The legitimate wife eventually died of grief over this adulterous affair. Moved by his father’s decade-long devotion, the mistress married into the wealthy family. Mu Yao transformed overnight from a working-class poor boy into the youngest son of a tycoon.
Let’s revisit Mu Yao’s high school days when he was still a poor kid. He was strikingly beautiful—not the effeminate type like Wu Lü, but an androgynous beauty that took your breath away at first glance. Coupled with his exceptional piano skills, he exuded the aura of a musician. He always wore crisp white shirts, had fair skin, a pert little butt, and rosy lips with pearly white teeth. Buffed to perfection, he was the epitome of a delicate, fairy-like young man who evoked pity at first sight.
Pei Jingchen also played piano—Muyu taught him.
Back then, Su Qingci, attending a distant elite private high school, gritted his teeth with envy, wishing he could hire thugs to ambush him.
After years apart, Mu Yao still instinctively felt intimidated by Su Qingci. Su Qingci possessed an aura: melancholic and beautiful when quiet, yet chillingly unsettling when cold-faced.
How different from Su Qingci, whose gloomy and sensitive personality made everyone avoid him like the plague. The angelic boy was gentle, kind, approachable, humble, and polite. Even after his dramatic rise to become a wealthy young master, he never put on airs or acted like a diva. Instead, he became even more compassionate, loving, cherishing, and cherished by everyone.
Su Qingci never denied being a bad person. Just like how he repeatedly called Mu Yao a scheming bitch and a white lotus right in front of Pei Jingchen, disregarding his feelings.
How laughable. Su Qingci couldn’t even tolerate Wu Lü, let alone Mu Yao, who was even more extreme.
Mu Yao spoke in soft, gentle tones and wept like a pear blossom drenched in rain. When Su Qingci barely brushed against him (not even touching him), he’d tumble into a 360-degree Thomas flip with a triple somersault in midair, then coo, “He didn’t push me—I just lost my balance.”
When it came to playing the victim and selling misery, Su Qingci had to call him “Professor.”
Zhang Haonan guarded Mu Yao’s back like he was a Qin Dynasty antique vase: “Su Qingci, look at you—you scared Yao Yao.”
Yao Yao?
Su Qingci froze for a moment, inwardly amused. What was that supposed to mean? Had Mu Yao, in his desperation to drug Pei Jingchen, failed and now hooked up with Zhang Haonan instead? If that were true, Su Qingci despised him even more. Pei Jingchen and Zhang Haonan—heaven and earth apart. What a downgrade in taste!
Su Qingci sneered coldly, “Indeed, he’s practically scared stiff. Shouldn’t you take him back to bed and comfort him?”
Mu Yao’s face turned deathly pale, making his grape-like eyes appear even more watery.
A wave of nausea washed over Su Qingci, and he rose to head for the bathroom.
After splashing cold water on his face, Su Qingci stared at his reflection in the mirror. An even stronger wave of revulsion surged through him. He swallowed hard to suppress the discomfort and closed his eyes. The young man in the mirror, clad in a black shirt, possessed looks that could catapult him to stardom in the entertainment industry. Yet Su Qingci found himself unable to look directly at his reflection, seeing only ugliness.
He and Mu Yao were two peas in a pod!
That day was Pei Jingchen’s birthday.
By then, Mu Yao had already been exposed as the long-lost heir to a wealthy family. He insisted on hosting a lavish celebration for Pei Jingchen, choosing the extravagant Waterwood Splendor as the venue. Pei Jingchen initially refused, but Mu Yao whined and pleaded relentlessly until the dinner was happily arranged.
Birthdays naturally call for gathering the birthday boy’s close friends. Well-liked Pei Jingchen had many brothers, filling the private room to capacity—including the uninvited, cheeky Su Qingci.
The crowd was large and boisterous. As the guest of honor, Pei Jingchen had to attend to everyone, leaving Su Qingci unable to get a word in. He didn’t want to present his gift to Pei Jingchen in such a noisy, crowded setting. Using the bathroom as an excuse, he planned to give it privately once the gathering ended, when they could speak alone.
Su Qingci had prepared a sunflower brooch—not something you could buy off the shelf. He’d specially commissioned it from a renowned overseas designer, making it one of a kind in the entire world.
Only such an extraordinary gift could match his one-of-a-kind self.
Su Qingci imagined Pei Jingchen’s delighted surprise upon receiving the brooch and couldn’t help but smile contentedly, already feeling a bit impatient. Suddenly, Mu Yao’s voice echoed from the hallway outside the restroom: “Will it work?”
The manager of Shuimu Fanghua replied: “Rest assured, Mr. Mu. Would we use subpar goods here? One pill is enough. If you want stronger results, take two. Use it boldly—no side effects, and it’s harmless to your health.”
Su Qingci watched as Mu Yao took a small packet from the manager’s hand, his expression flustered and his hands trembling.
Su Qingci froze, momentarily unable to process what he saw. When they returned to the private room, the party was in full swing. Mu Yao arrived two minutes after Su Qingci, hands cradling a bottle of red wine. He declared it a 1959 Lafite, instantly sparking a rush among the guests to sample it. Mu Yao told them not to rush, that he would pour the wine himself. Turning his back to the group, he opened the bottle and fetched wine glasses. When someone spoke to him, he responded with a smile, handling the interaction with ease.
Su Qingci returned to his seat. A university classmate of Pei Jingchen greeted him, but Su responded distractedly, his eyes darting toward Mu Yao to observe his every move.
He saw Mu Yao slip a white pill into one of the wine glasses before lifting it and offering it to Pei Jingchen: “First to the birthday boy. Happy birthday.”
Mu Yao was perfectly capable of playing the innocent white lotus in minor pranks, but when it came to something as serious as drugging someone, he chickened out. He dared not commit such a wicked act. His hand trembled as he handed over the glass, his face turning pale from extreme nervousness, his flaws glaringly obvious.
Before Su Qingci could speak, one of the young god’s admirers rushed over with concern. A simple “Mu Yao, what’s wrong?” exposed the young god’s guilty conscience. He shuddered violently, spilling the wine and shattering the stemmed glass.
Pei Jingchen also asked him what was wrong. Mu Yao evaded the question, flustered, saying it was nothing: “I didn’t hold it steady. I’ll pour you another glass.”
Mu Yao hurriedly went to retrieve the cup again, his hands shaking even more violently this time. He botched the second attempt at spiking the drink but dared not hand it over. Meanwhile, Su Qingci stood up to offer help. Completely intimidated now, Mu Yao pushed the spiked glass of red wine aside. His attempted crime left him utterly drained. He made an excuse to step outside for some air.
Su Qingci and two classmates shared the wine, but one glass was missing at the end. The classmate turned and spotted the “forgotten” glass in the corner of the stage. “Here’s one,” they said, handing it to the birthday celebrant.
In that instant, his heart raced. A devil whispered seductive whispers in his ear, and he did nothing to stop it. He watched helplessly as Pei Jingchen took the glass. Amidst the chorus of “Happy 21st Birthday!” from the crowd, he pressed his lips to the rim and slowly drank the wine.
Later, as the crowd dispersed, Pei Jingchen sat rubbing his temples, as if the dizziness from excessive alcohol made him regret his indulgence.
Su Qingci dismissed all unnecessary onlookers, leaving only herself to watch over him in the private room.
It was so quiet Su Qingci could almost hear the pounding of his heart. He said, “Let’s go.”
Su Qingci nodded. “Okay.”
Pei Jingchen had barely taken a few steps out of the private room when the effects of the drugs hit him. Su Qingci supported him from behind. The instant their bodies touched, Pei Jingchen trembled violently as if electrocuted, suddenly clasping Su Qingci’s wrist bone with his hand. The heat radiating from his palm felt like a red-hot branding iron. It made the nineteen-year-old Su Qingci feel both nervous and afraid, yet also stirred a thrilling, forbidden excitement that sent shivers down his spine.
Pei Jingchen murmured, “So hot.”
Su Qingci seemed to be seeking his consent. “I’ll get us a room. You can rest.”
Pei Jingchen remained silent. Whether he lacked the strength to speak or not, Su Qingci interpreted it as consent.
Later, things unfolded naturally.
What could a man harboring ill intent and a man drugged beyond control possibly do together in a confined space?
It was the first time Su Qingci had ever seen Pei Jingchen lose control since they’d met.
He was pinned against the doorframe by Pei Jingchen, who gripped the back of his head and attacked him relentlessly. A hand tightened around his throat as the demand came: “Did you have to do this?”
Pei Jingchen wasn’t stupid. By now, he couldn’t possibly have failed to realize the wine had been tampered with. But Su Qingci offered no explanation, nor did he need to. What was there to explain? That he hadn’t drugged him, that it was Mu Yao?
Indeed, Mu Yao had poured the wine and added the drug. Someone else had even served it to Pei Jingchen. Su Qingci hadn’t lifted a finger throughout the entire ordeal, not even touching the rim of the wine glass.
How neatly he absolved himself!
He was conflicted. He knew this was wrong, yet he went with the flow, condoning Mu Yao’s actions without reporting them, even welcoming the outcome. Mu Yao’s move had even enlightened him, like a sudden revelation: So this is how it’s done? Why didn’t I think of it?
He justified it all with the excuse that his love for Pei Jingchen was too deep—so deep it drove him to commit despicable acts he himself despised.
He achieved his goal.
I saved your life. You had no way to repay me, yet you lost your virtue to me in a drunken stupor. Forget who’s right or wrong, stop with the excuses. Wasn’t it you who pulled down your pants and grabbed your gun? Just say it—was it you?
Pei Jingchen was a man of integrity. Naturally, he had to take responsibility and be with Su Qingci.
Su Qingci glanced at the reflection in the mirror one last time. In the end, he had become the very thing he despised.
What kind of karma had Pei Jingchen created, that he kept encountering people like them—dark-hearted, ruthless psychopaths?
Su Qingci admitted everything. The moment he let Pei Jingchen drink that wine, he knew he was beyond redemption. Su Qingci never expected to have it both ways. He willingly reaped the consequences of his own sowing. Being seen as a despicable villain by Pei Jingchen, losing his trust and what little goodwill remained—utterly ruined, utterly undeserving, he deserved every bit of it.
Later, he gave Pei Jingchen the sunflower brooch and uttered that belated “Happy Birthday.”
Pei Jingchen flung the brooch straight out the window.
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