Shan Yu held the knife in one hand and pressed down on the back of Fang Xu’s head with the other, his knee pinned onto Fang Xu’s rear. Under the quilt, only Fang Xu’s arms and legs could move, thrashing about desperately.
Yet nothing could be seen—only the edge of the quilt rising and falling repeatedly, accompanied by Fang Xu’s muffled shrieks and pleas for mercy underneath.
Probably because his nose was pressed down, his voice sounded slightly distorted: “I was wrong, Shan Yu—ah—help—Yue Lang—Lang-ge—”
By the time Yue Lang, Xiao Lu, and the others charged into the room, Shan Yu had already plunged the knife down a third time.
He moved at lightning speed, the wind generated by his hand through the air faintly audible.
All three strikes landed on the area of Fang Xu’s back.
Through the quilt.
Yue Lang reached out to grab twice, wanting to hold Shan Yu’s arm, but failed. Shan Yu plunged the knife down repeatedly four or five more times in quick succession, each strike heavy and forceful.
Muffled thuds could be heard—bang, bang.
Down feathers drifted out continuously along the tip of the knife where the quilt had been sliced open.
…Muffled thuds?
Yue Lang paused, pulling back Xiao Lu and Da Kang, who were futilely trying to hold Shan Yu to stop him.
“Lang-ge?” Da Kang looked at Yue Lang in confusion.
Yue Lang didn’t speak, merely watching Shan Yu.
Shan Yu didn’t stop. The knife gripped in his hand was still stabbing down into the quilt one strike after another—from the upper back to the waist, and then to the legs.
After over a dozen strikes, bloodstains began to appear on the quilt.
Fang Xu underneath was still wailing.
Spotting the right moment, Yue Lang moved up the second Shan Yu’s movements slowed and grabbed his wrist in a firm grip.
Breathing heavily, Shan Yu finally stopped.
Yet Fang Xu hadn’t stopped yelling: “Help…”
Shan Yu released the hand pressing down on Fang Xu’s head, stood up slowly, and tossed the knife to the side.
Looking down, blood seeped continuously out from the wound in the center of his palm.
“Fuck’s sake,” Yue Lang swore, not even sure who he wanted to curse at.
Half of the knife blade had been gripped inside Shan Yu’s hand.
Yue Lang walked over and pulled back the quilt; Fang Xu immediately covered his head, curling into a tight ball.
Specks of crimson could be seen on the clothes on his back. The tip of the knife had pierced through the quilt, but because Shan Yu hadn’t left much blade exposed, the cuts on Fang Xu’s body were probably not even as deep as the wound on Shan Yu’s hand.
His crotch, however, was soaked in a large wet patch.
“What the fuck are you howling for?” Yue Lang asked with a frown.
Fang Xu finally went quiet. Stunned for a long while, he suddenly flipped over, sat on the floor, reached behind his back to feel around frantically, and then stared blankly at Shan Yu.
“President Fang,” Shan Yu walked up to Fang Xu, bending over to wipe his hand against his clothes one stroke after another, until a large patch over Fang Xu’s chest was quickly smeared in bloodstains.
He looked at Fang Xu, word by word: “Everything you owe me—my time, my money, my trust in a friend, my parents’ expectations.”
Fang Xu remained completely still.
“I didn’t cripple you because you’re not worth it… For the rest of my life, I don’t ever want to see you again, or hear about you again,” Shan Yu said.
Fang Xu looked at him with his mouth half-open, the terror on his face not yet faded.
“Did you hear me?” Shan Yu patted his face again.
Several bloody handprints were left on Fang Xu’s face.
“Heard… it,” his voice was so hoarse it was almost gone.
“Mm,” Shan Yu nodded, straightened up, walked over to the nightstand, pulled open the drawer, took out a small first-aid box from inside, and handed it to Yue Lang.
Yue Lang opened the box, pulled out a bottle of povidone-iodine, looked at it, and turned to ask Fang Xu: “Has this stuff expired?”
“No,” Fang Xu had completely lost his voice.
Yue Lang poured the entire bottle of povidone-iodine over Shan Yu’s hand.
Shan Yu shook his hand, grabbed a roll of bandage, wrapped it around his hand a few turns, kicked aside the quilt on the floor, and walked out of the bedroom.
Xiao Lu and Da Kang waited until Yue Lang followed out before leaving together, slamming the bedroom door shut with a heavy bang.
A few seconds later, Fang Xu’s emotionally complex wails echoed from inside the bedroom.
The few of them walked out of the stairwell; the surroundings were still very quiet. An old woman returning from grocery shopping glanced at them and kept walking forward.
Back in the apartment across the street that Yue Lang had rented, Shan Yu stood at the window again, pulled open the curtain to look over, and then pulled the curtain closed again.
“Let’s stay at a hotel tonight,” he sat down on the sofa.
“Mm,” Yue Lang responded. “Is the cut deep? If it’s bad, go get a few stitches.”
“It’s fine,” Shan Yu said.
“You’re fucking crazy,” Yue Lang said.
“I’ll go buy some medication to stop the bleeding,” Xiao Lu looked at Shan Yu’s hand.
The bandage wrapped around his hand had already been soaked through by the seeping blood.
“Both of you go,” Yue Lang said.
“Okay,” Da Kang nodded and walked out the door with Xiao Lu.
Shan Yu sat on the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees, looking at the bright crimson on his hand, his fingertips trembling slightly and uncontrollably.
“Vented your anger?” Yue Lang asked. “If not, I’ll go back over and give him another beatdown. If he dares call the police, I’d actually think higher of him…”
“A married corporate elite from an office building shouldn’t be thinking about these things,” Shan Yu said.
“Then can Boss Shan refrain from thinking about these things in the future?” Yue Lang asked.
“No,” Shan Yu’s voice was still very steady. “Can’t do it.”
Yue Lang didn’t speak.
“But it can only go up to here,” Shan Yu said.
“Grown up, huh,” Yue Lang laughed softly.
“I’m already six years old,” Shan Yu said.
“What nonsense are you talking?” Yue Lang looked at him. Although he didn’t understand, he didn’t let the comment drop: “My son.”
“Screw you,” Shan Yu burst out laughing, slowly leaning back against the sofa with his head tilted up.
He let out a long sigh.
Yue Lang didn’t speak. Pulling a few tissues from the table, he pinched the edge of Shan Yu’s sleeve to lift his hand from the sofa, padded it with tissues, and placed it back down: “If you dirty the sofa, my deposit’s gonna get docked.”
The wound on his hand wasn’t shallow. After all, the knife blade had shifted while stabbing down, slicing deeper than a simple tight grip would have.
Da Kang and Xiao Lu returned with a pile of medication. After repeatedly rinsing the wound with povidone-iodine, Da Kang looked at Yue Lang: “Lang-ge.”
Yue Lang leaned over to take a look, his eyebrows instantly knitting together: “What the fuck…”
“I’ll wrap it myself,” Shan Yu pulled his hand back.
“If you don’t get stitches, at least go to a clinic to get it wrapped,” Yue Lang said. “Don’t end up messing up your hand before your leg even recovers properly.”
“Are all you corporate elites this fragile?” Shan Yu said.
“Yeah,” Yue Lang said as he walked toward the door.
Shan Yu didn’t speak, looking at him.
“Let’s go,” Yue Lang said. “Don’t force me to carry you.”
“Not impossible,” Shan Yu said.
“Let’s go!” Yue Lang shouted.
Shan Yu clicked his tongue and stood up.
At the clinic, after being disinfected again and waiting to be bandaged, Shan Yu felt around his pockets: “I didn’t bring my phone out.”
Yue Lang sat beside him, watching him.
“Don’t know where it got stuffed,” Shan Yu looked back at Xiao Lu and Da Kang sitting behind them. “Which one of you wants to head back and find it for me?”
“I’ll go look,” Da Kang stood up. “Where might it be?”
“Either this gap or that gap,” Yue Lang said, tossing the keys to him. “Feel around the headboard and the sofa.”
“Mm,” Da Kang caught the keys and went out.
Yue Lang continued watching him.
Shan Yu glanced at him too: “What are you looking at? There’s no chance between us.”
“Fuck,” Yue Lang burst out laughing. “In the past, you didn’t care if you didn’t hold your phone for a day; if someone sent you a message today and you replied tomorrow, that was considered deep affection…”
“I have a ton of stuff going on at my guesthouse,” Shan Yu said.
“Oh,” Yue Lang nodded. “Boss Shan is busy.”
Shortly after the wound on his hand was bandaged up, Da Kang returned to the clinic holding his phone.
Shan Yu took the phone, unlocked it, and took a look.
No new messages.
What kind of manager is this?
Usually in the morning, he has to check in with every employee in the shop, but when the boss isn’t in the shop, he doesn’t even report a single punctuation mark.
Before he could turn off the screen, Yue Lang reached out from the side and snatched his phone away.
“I’m taking a look,” Yue Lang said.
“Go ahead,” Shan Yu said.
Yue Lang looked down at the phone—it was the active chat window with Chén Yú Luò Yàn that hadn’t been exited.
He tapped on Chén Yú Luò Yàn‘s avatar to take a look.
“Is this your manager?” Yue Lang asked.
“Mm,” Shan Yu nodded.
Yue Lang exited the chat box and looked again: “You bastard, you made an alt account?”
“Mm,” Shan Yu nodded.
“He’s the only friend on it?” Yue Lang asked again.
“Mm,” Shan Yu continued nodding.
“Got photos?” Yue Lang looked at him.
Shan Yu didn’t speak.
Yue Lang didn’t speak any further either, opening the gallery directly and tapping on the first photo. After freezing for two seconds, he remarked: “Pretty handsome.”
“Mm,” Shan Yu responded.
“How old?” Yue Lang looked at the photo.
“Twenty,” Shan Yu said.
“More than that; that mistress is at least twenty-five or older,” Hu Pan propped her chin on her hands at the front desk. “She just dresses to look young.”
“She looks pretty young to me,” Sanbing leaned against the front desk.
“You don’t know shit,” Hu Pan said.
“Stop talking,” Chen Jian flipped through the inventory sheet beside them. “She’s coming down.”
The woman from Room 208 walked down the stairs dressed in sportswear, looking like she was going for a mountain hike, and carrying a backpack.
“We weren’t talking about her anyway,” Sanbing said in a low voice.
“Did your brain get lost?” Hu Pan shot him a sideways glance, then smiled and greeted the woman from Room 208: “Heading out, big sister?”
“Going to the guesthouse inside to find someone,” Room 208 said while putting on sunglasses.
Chen Jian and the others turned their heads toward her simultaneously.
Not hiding it at all?
After Room 208 walked out the door, Chen Jian stayed silent for a moment, then jerked his head at Sanbing: “Let’s go.”
“I’m coming too, I’m coming too!” Hu Pan said in rapid succession, running out from behind the front desk.
“Record a video,” Chen Jian said. “In case things get physical… Sanbing and I will need to hold them back.”
“Counting on Sanbing is worse than counting on me,” Hu Pan pulled out her phone, opened the video app, and pulled up her sleeve to reveal her tattoo sleeve. “I’ve been in fights for years too.”
Chen Jian looked at her: “It’s to hold them back so they don’t fight, not to have you go up and help fight.”
“Okay, got it,” Hu Pan rolled her sleeve back down.
“Go, go, go,” Sanbing walked briskly toward the back door.
Crossing the garden, the back door faced Suiyun’s courtyard directly.
The few of them hid inside the door, watching Room 208 step through Suiyun’s front gate.
“Go to the gazebo over there and wait to see what happens,” Chen Jian said.
Stepping out the back door, before they even turned off the small path, a man’s roar echoed from Suiyun’s side: “What are you doing!”
Presumably, before even heading upstairs, she had run right into those two smooching monsters going out to play.
“Get over there.” Chen Jian turned around immediately.
When the few of them ran through the main entrance over there, they saw Room 208 holding up her phone pointing at a man and a woman to take video. The man was holding the woman in his arms, covering her face.
“Why cover her face? Afraid of being recognized?” Room 208 was very calm, not shouting or screaming. “Don’t worry, I’ll help censor her face. I’m only recording my husband, so his relatives, friends, and company colleagues can see…”
“Put that down!” the man pointed at her. “Are you putting it down or not?!”
“Own up to what you did, darling,” Room 208 said. “How come you didn’t have this attitude when you scammed money out of me to spend on someone else?”
“I said I want a divorce!” The man kept one arm around the woman while pointing at her with the other finger. “You refuse to divorce and come pull this trick, right? You’re clinging to me…”
“Pay back the money!” Room 208 suddenly raised her voice. “Want to run without paying back the money? Wishful thinking!”
The man flung the woman in his arms behind him, raised his hand, and charged over.
“What are you doing!” Hu Pan belted out a shout, startling even Chen Jian, who was charging forward.
The man froze as well.
Chen Jian blocked the man, staring at him: “Still want to hit someone?”
“Who the fuck asked you to meddle?” The man pointed at him. “Believe it or not, I’ll beat you up together with her?”
“Come on,” Chen Jian nodded at him. He was already holding in some inexplicable frustration today, and didn’t bother enduring it right now: “I believe it. Come on.”
The man kept pointing at him, unmoving.
The woman behind pulled on him: “Don’t, don’t be impulsive…”
“Come on!” Chen Jian looked at him, raising his voice.
The man’s face twitched, but he still didn’t move.
“You’re not coming, right?” Chen Jian said, glancing at his hand. “If you’re not coming, lower your fucking hand. Point one more time and it’ll be my turn.”
The man gave a cold laugh. When the woman behind pulled on him again, he lowered his hand: “Recording a video, huh? Trying to provoke me?”
“No problem, just turn off the video,” Chen Jian said. “Our fight can be separate.”
…What are you saying, Manager?
Escalating the conflict, Manager?
Don’t steal the boss’s job!
“Little brother,” Room 208 patted his shoulder gently from behind him. “Let me know when you’re done; I’ve finished recording.”
Chen Jian stared at the man for another moment before turning around slowly. Since he had already stolen the job, one more glance made no difference.
“How do you guys handle security?” Before leaving, Sanbing didn’t forget to lecture the two Suiyun employees who were spacing out at the front desk: “Guests are about to fight in the shop, and you’re just watching the show?”
“Let’s go,” Hu Pan gave him a shove.
The group walked out the main gate together.
“Thanks,” Room 208 looked at Chen Jian after returning to Dayin’s garden. “I didn’t expect you guys to follow over.”
“You’re alone, and a woman at that,” Hu Pan said. “Our manager was afraid you’d suffer a loss.”
“I’ve suffered more than just a little loss already,” Room 208 sighed. “One more time makes no difference. If he really dared hit me, I would’ve fought him to the death.”
“Not worth it, sister,” Sanbing said. “You’re rich and pretty; it’s not worth it for a piece of trash like that.”
Room 208 smiled faintly, turned, and headed inside.
“Chen Jian,” Sanbing watched Room 208 leave for a few seconds, then turned to look at Chen Jian. “Are you alright today?”
“Hmm?” Chen Jian glanced at him.
“I thought you were actually going to fight,” Sanbing said.
“How could I,” Chen Jian said.
“The way you spoke was headed straight for a fight,” Hu Pan patted her chest. “I was ready to roll up my sleeves and charge in; I thought Boss Shan had possessed your soul.”
Chen Jian smiled faintly, walking toward the backyard: “Go do your work; I’ll wander around.”
He originally wanted to sit at the swing for a bit, but two guests were holding coffee and chatting there, so he had no choice but to sit down in the corner at this end of the garden.
There were a few new messages on his phone.
Some were from class groups, some from former coworkers, but none were from Shan Yu.
Although even he couldn’t think of a reason why the boss returning home to handle personal matters would send messages to the manager, he would still pull out his phone to check.
The boss had no reason to send messages to the manager.
Did Shan Yu have any reason to send messages to Chen Jian?
Chen Jian froze for a moment, put his phone back into his pocket, and suddenly felt a bit scared.
“He should be scared!” Da Kang was full of disdain. “Looked for him for so long before and he wouldn’t show his face; now he knows to show up, fuck.”
“What did you do?” Shan Yu looked at Yue Lang.
Qian Yu had been hiding continuously. Shan Yu had people pass messages to him, but he held out, feigning death and refusing to appear. Now that Shan Yu was preparing to head back to the town, Qian Yu suddenly reached out through Yue Lang to ask for a meeting.
“Just sent him a photo yesterday,” Yue Lang said.
“What photo?” Shan Yu asked.
Yue Lang unlocked his phone and handed it over.
Shan Yu scanned it—it was a photo of Fang Xu sitting on the floor with blood all over his clothes, with a heart sticker thoughtfully placed over Fang Xu’s face.
“Look at that, how terrifying, bloody as hell,” Yue Lang said. “If he didn’t actively show up, by the time Shan Yu found him, he’d be the next one, getting the same treatment.”
“I don’t have that much blood to smear everywhere,” Shan Yu said.
Yue Lang burst out laughing: “Go back one day later. Let’s settle this together—get money if we can, and if not, an IOU works too.”
“Mm,” Shan Yu frowned.
“Saves making a special trip out here again in the future,” Yue Lang looked at him. “Or enduring another round of anxious longing.”
Shan Yu clicked his tongue.
Um, seems to me like these two both have some frustrations to work through 😅