What???

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Chu Zijian only dared to think it; he certainly wouldn’t say such things in front of Cen Wu. He hooked his arm around Cen Wu’s shoulder and led him into the bar. “Come on, Second Young Master, tonight’s on me!”

The original owner was generous; for gatherings like this or trips to clubs, as long as Xie Shangjing wasn’t around, the original owner would cover everything.

Chu Zijian and his crew worked as underlings mainly to enjoy these perks, but none of them were fools. The original owner would never let himself be taken advantage of, so occasionally they would take the initiative to buy him drinks.

Cen Wu was tense all over, his beautiful eyes above the mask slightly widened, but he still looked panicked.

Night had fallen, and outside the bar, neon lights flickered brilliantly. Before they even reached the entrance, the booming music and the crowd’s bustle were intoxicating.

“Second Young Master,” Chu Zijian, clearly a regular here, had even reserved a booth from the owner. He led Cen Wu to sit down and asked, “What would you like to drink tonight?”

The waiter, perceptive, approached and leaned in to hand Cen Wu the drink menu. “You can take a look first.”

“I...” The circular booth brought a sense of safety. Cen Wu’s lips, faintly reddened, finally moved, though his voice trembled slightly. “Just water for me.”

A high school student—what kind of alcohol was he supposed to drink?

He dared not imagine how he’d explain reeking of alcohol if he ran into Cen’s parents at home—a countdown to death.

Though Cen’s parents spoiled the original owner immensely—drinking or even smashing a bar wouldn’t faze them—he wasn’t their biological son. Better not to tempt fate.

“...?”

The waiter almost thought he misheard.

Blue Night was one of the biggest bars in Huaijing. Cen Second Young Master and Chu Zijian had come here many times before, always ordering a champagne tower like it was burning a hole in their bank card.

Why the sudden change? The Cen family hadn’t gone bankrupt.

Still, he didn’t dare ask. Taking back the menu, he bowed respectfully, “Alright, please wait a moment.”

Cen Wu finally calmed down after another twenty minutes. His heart no longer raced, his hands steadied, and his sharp mind regained control. He began scanning the bar for Xie Guilan.

Chu Zijian hadn’t planned a gathering tonight, but even when it was just him and Cen Wu before, they could have a good time.

Tonight, however, Cen Wu barely spoke and kept glancing left and right, as if searching for someone.

As a loyal underling, Chu Zijian suddenly understood. He waved to the waiter, “Over here.”

The waiter came over, bowed, and after a brief whispered conversation with Chu Zijian, nodded repeatedly and left the booth.

Cen Wu was too focused on his search to notice the commotion. Suddenly, several men dressed scantily and stylishly approached, sitting closely on either side of him with intimate attitudes.

Cen Wu: “...”

Cen Wu: “???”

The man on his left was actually quite good-looking, about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. He had sleepy phoenix eyes, pale skin, slicked-back hair with mousse, and wore a flashy wine-red casual suit with an open collar and a silver clavicle chain. He emitted a strong scent of cologne.

“Second Young Master,” he smiled and poured wine for Cen Wu, “Why aren’t you out dancing tonight?”

Huh?

Still dazed, Cen Wu watched as the young man on his right also poured him a drink.

This one was younger, barely in his early twenties, wearing a black combat tank top. His chest muscles were well-defined but not exaggerated—someone who, if filmed and posted online, would be hailed as a male deity.

But his tone was teasing and coquettish as he leaned close to Cen Wu: “I even messaged you last night, but you ignored me. What’s up? Is horseback riding more fun than me?”

What???

Suddenly, Cen Wu recognized the face—it was the sender of the first message he opened last night. Because of this man’s abs, he had stayed up past three scrolling through social media.

No way, brother, how did you become a middleman?

Feeling self-conscious, Chu Zijian stood and shifted aside. Cen Wu was still flustered when several more men and women quickly sat around, mostly men, encircling him completely.

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Chu Zijian smirked mischievously and raised his eyebrows at him. “Second Young Master, a bunch of new faces just arrived at Blue Night. I asked the manager to bring them over to keep you company.”

What???

Cen Wu’s porcelain cheeks flushed crimson, his lashes fluttered erratically. He tried to escape the booth, but was blocked from all sides. So many legs, so many hands—all barred his way.

Wasn’t this supposed to be a straightforward story? Why so many gay men?!

Cen Wu was caught between men on both sides, utterly unable to break free, like trapped in a spider’s web.

He had come to unwind, yet his hair was disheveled, his face flushed, his eyes misted over, looking like someone being forced.

Just as he was about to break down, Cen Wu looked up through the bar’s hazy lights and caught sight of a familiar figure.

!!!

Xie Guilan, dressed in the bar’s standard server uniform—white shirt, black vest—carrying a tray, walked over. The black suit pants emphasized his height and long legs.

Under the bar’s dazzling lights, his complexion was cold and pale like mountain snow, and his narrow, icy peach blossom eyes made him stand out from the lively crowd.

Sensing someone staring, Xie Guilan turned his head and met Cen Wu’s moist eyes.

Cen Wu: Ugh.

Help me, save me...

Xie Guilan’s usually cold gaze darkened further when he saw Cen Wu, then his brows furrowed with disdain at the men sitting near him with half-open jackets.

Frivolous, promiscuous.

All of Huaijing knew Cen Second Young Master liked to add people on WeChat—but only those with abs.

Xie Guilan cared nothing for him, even despised him, wishing to avoid him at all costs. He’d caught him several times flirting with others and exchanging contacts after just a few words.

Even the new male models tonight were aware.

Cen Wu anxiously looked up for Xie Guilan but accidentally locked eyes with one of the male models beside him. The handsome newcomer looked a bit flustered, cheeks flushed.

Yet his fingers were quick, as if afraid Cen Wu would change his mind. He swiftly opened his WeChat card and offered his phone, coyly asking, “Second Young Master, do you scan me or should I scan you?”

Cen Wu: “...”

Not what I meant.

Xie Guilan’s gaze was icy and indifferent, his thin lips pressed into a straight line as he carried the tray and walked away.

Cen Wu: “...”

So cold-hearted.

He tried to squeeze himself into the corner of the booth. Though surrounded, these people kept their distance, daring not to touch him.

In the original story, the Cen family’s influence was vast. Most of Huaijing, even if not owned by the Cen family, was connected to them in some way.

Cen Wu leaned on this monstrous power, a force so overwhelming that crushing his foes was easier than squashing ants.

Who would dare take advantage of Cen Wu?

They had only their looks, or tried to flaunt their abs, hoping to catch his attention for even a second.

Overwhelmed by the gay men’s attention, Cen Wu slipped into a shell, donning his mask again. Only his cold, slightly reddened eyes peeked out.

His eyes curled inward and outward; when he grew sullen, the tails naturally lengthened, exuding aloof resistance.

Cen Wu’s social anxiety came in stages. When manageable, he’d blush and stammer. At its peak, he’d freeze, face as cold as ice. Despite his youth, no one dared cross him on set.

“Second Young Master...” The male model hesitated and dared not pour him any more drinks, quietly closing his mouth.

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Cen Wu had originally worried Xie Shangjing might cause trouble for Xie Guilan tonight, which was why he had come to the bar. But it was almost ten o’clock, and Xie Shangjing still hadn’t shown up. He probably wasn’t coming.

Just as he hesitated whether to leave, amidst the bar’s chaotic music, a quarrel broke out.

Cen Wu turned his head and saw it was by the booth Xie Guilan had just served.

“Second Young Master, isn’t that Wang Yue?” Chu Zijian, having overheard, also turned to look.

Cen Wu remembered the name. Wang Yue was also a rich second generation, but his family was nouveau riche, having made their fortune in mining before branching into entertainment, raking in huge profits.

The established aristocratic circles in Huaijing looked down on such upstarts. The original owner rarely associated with Wang Yue.

Cen Wu recalled only meeting Wang Yue late in the original story, after Xie Guilan had been taken back by the Cen family. Xie Guilan was cold towards Cen’s parents and didn’t join Cen Xiao in managing the family business. Instead, he started his own entertainment company and went head-to-head with Wang Yue.

Of course, Wang Yue lost badly but was unwilling to accept defeat. He orchestrated an accident to frame Xie Guilan.

That was later, though. Cen Wu wondered if Xie Guilan and Wang Yue were already at odds.

“Second Young Master,” Chu Zijian looked up, noticing Xie Guilan was being blocked by Wang Yue’s men. “He’s definitely going to get roughed up tonight. Did you see that? Did you see?”

“I... I saw.” Cen Wu swallowed hard.

“?” Chu Zijian felt something was off and asked, “What exactly did you see?”

Trembling, Cen Wu said, “His... his fists are tough.”

Xie Guilan wore black leather gloves typical of bar servers, concealing his hands, but his white shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms.

Despite the dim lighting and distance, Cen Wu could already imagine the cold, pale arm veins bulging with rage.

Fierce and ruthless.

He could knock out three guys like them with a single punch, even three of Chu Zijian’s men would be no match.

Chu Zijian: ???

Before Chu Zijian could say more, Cen Wu pushed aside the people nearby, stood up, and strode toward Xie Guilan.

“Second Young Master!” Chu Zijian, confused, cursed Xie Guilan as a jinx and scrambled after him. “Wait for me!”

In the bar’s A section booth.

Wang Yue had both arms draped over the sofa back, lit from below. He held a cigarette between his lips, eyes squinting, jaw muscles tight, half-smiling but with anger brewing.

Broken glass and spilled red wine littered the floor.

Xie Guilan stood nearby, his youthful figure upright and handsome, his jet-black eyes chillingly cold.

Just as Wang Yue was about to lose his temper, a youthful voice interrupted.

“What... what’s wrong, Brother Yue?” Cen Wu and Chu Zijian approached, and the crowd near the dance floor parted like the Red Sea. Cen Wu forced a smile. “Why so angry all of a sudden?”

Cen Wu didn’t know what was going on. He had only wanted to cross the dance floor, but everyone suddenly gave way. He awkwardly picked at the floor, but he had to keep up appearances.

Standing diagonally in front of Xie Guilan, he calmly blocked him. Xie Guilan’s eyes were dark and gloomy as they locked onto the pale back of Cen Wu’s neck, sending chills down his spine.

What now, my young master? I didn’t provoke you.

In a quiet moment, Cen Wu gently grasped Xie Guilan’s wrist, his own heartbeat slowly steadying.

He had to admit, the moment he got close to Xie Guilan, the bar’s air seemed fresher, free of the scent of those other men.

It had to be the male lead—straight and reassuring.