Shen Zhu silently concluded that his current level of vulnerability and playing the victim wasn’t moving Su Xingque at all.
He needed to push harder and look even more pitiful to test exactly where Su Xingque’s baseline for sympathy lay.
With that in mind, Shen Zhu flashed a wide smile at Su Xingque, acting as though he was overjoyed that the man had just acknowledged their marriage. He raised his glass, intentionally keeping it a fraction lower than Ren Lei’s in a polite, humble gesture. “Actually, I should be the one to toast you all,” he said softly.
His tone was soft and modest. On the surface, it sounded perfectly polite and appropriate, yet it subtly leaked a hint of panic and intimidation.
Ren Lei was caught off guard, only snapping out of it when Shen Zhu proactively clinked their glasses together.
As he threw back his drink, he couldn’t resist stealing a few more glances at Shen Zhu through his peripheral vision. Exquisite looks, a soft personality, and a mild temper. While he might not handle grand occasions well, keeping a little thing like this at home to toy with every now and then wouldn’t be bad at all.
Too bad he looked way too much like how Bai Que used to act when he first approached the boss.
But it didn’t matter. Ren Lei finished his drink and sat back down, leaving the opportunity to torment Shen Zhu to the other guys. He watched from the sidelines as the boy downed a full glass with every single toast. If Su Xingque really remained indifferent to Shen Zhu after a while, maybe he could use a few tricks to claim the boy for himself.
The men in the lounge took turns introducing themselves. To avoid embarrassing Su Xingque—which would only worsen his attitude toward him—Shen Zhu had no choice but to down every single cup in one go. After a full round of drinking, Shen Zhu’s head throbbed, and everything before his eyes blurred into overlapping shadows.
The chaotic attention around him proved to be short-lived. Once the men finished their toasts and found nothing to criticize, they went back to doing their own things.
Having had nothing but a few bites of breakfast that morning, Shen Zhu’s empty stomach began to protest. At first, it was just a sharp, needle-like prickling, but it quickly escalated into violent, twisting cramps.
Shen Zhu rubbed his hands together and pressed them flat against his stomach through his clothes, turning his head to look at Su Xingque.
Su Xingque was still wearing the same suit trousers and shirt from their marriage registration earlier. His jacket and tie had evidently been discarded the moment they left the Civil Affairs Bureau, leaving only the top few buttons of his shirt undone.
The warm lighting of the clubhouse lounge cast a soft glow over Su Xingque from above, bleeding away a fraction of his daytime coldness and cruelty.
This guy really is exceptionally handsome, Shen Zhu thought blankly, fighting to blink away the dark spots encroaching on his vision.
High-proof alcohol never hit all at once. As time ticked by, Shen Zhu’s mind grew heavier. He slumped into the couch, not daring to stray too far from Su Xingque, yet not daring to lean too close either.
His eyelids felt heavy, but every time he was on the verge of closing them, his stomach would violently spasm, sending a wave of pain rippling through his abdomen.
Whether the alcohol had finally numbed his nerves or the sheer intensity of the pain had accelerated his descent into unconsciousness, Shen Zhu kept his hands clamped over his stomach, shifting until he eventually slumped sideways against Su Xingque’s back.
Zhou Shi was right in the middle of complaining to Su Xingque about a few idiotic clients he had recently dealt with. Noticing the abrupt silence from the other man, he raised his eyelids in confusion.
“Holy shit,” Zhou Shi muttered, dumbfounded.
He hadn’t joined the other troublemakers in egging the boy on to drink earlier. Although he was firmly on Su Xingque’s side, he still felt it wasn’t right to give Shen Zhu a hard time. Bai Que was ancient history. No matter how much the boss hated and resented him, that was Bai Que’s sin. There was no need to force an innocent bystander like Shen Zhu to take the fall.
But the reality was, his single omitted toast changed absolutely nothing. The deep flush on Shen Zhu’s cheeks made it obvious he was utterly wasted. With his head tilted against Su Xingque’s back and his brows tightly knit, he looked far from peaceful in his sleep.
Meanwhile, Su Xingque had turned his head, staring coldly at the person using him as a pillow. His thin lips were clamped tight, his face a mask of displeasure.
Zhou Shi had a sneaking suspicion that Shen Zhu was exactly the type Su Xingque actually liked; the boss just needed time to get over that hurdle in his heart. He opened his mouth, intending to suggest taking him home first.
In the next second, Su Xingque raised his hand, pressed his index finger firmly against Shen Zhu’s head, and mercilessly shoved the boy off him.
Su Xingque didn’t hold back his strength. Driven by the force against his head, Shen Zhu’s upper body recoiled backward, leaving him sprawling awkwardly across the couch, even bouncing slightly from the impact.
Yet, even through that, Shen Zhu didn’t wake up.
Fine, I’ll keep my nose out of this mess, Zhou Shi thought, swallowing his words. He turned around to shout at the rest of the room: “Hey, hey, hey, that’s enough drinking for tonight, right? Let’s pack it up, we still have to work tomorrow.”
The people present were all quick-witted. Seeing that Su Xingque was in a foul mood, they immediately took the cue from Zhou Shi, gathering their things to give their boss the space to handle his domestic affairs.
Through the haze of his fading consciousness, Shen Zhu could only hear faint, buzzing shouts. The pain in his abdomen surged back like a tidal wave. Moving his legs, which were tangled awkwardly off the edge of the sofa, he pulled them up onto the cushions and curled himself tightly into a ball.
In his subconscious, this posture served many purposes—protecting himself from harm, dulling the pain, or offering a tiny shred of comfort to a heavily scarred heart.
After seeing everyone out, Su Xingque returned to the couch. He looked down at Shen Zhu for a moment, pulled out his phone, and began recording a video. The camera panned from Shen Zhu’s flushed face and neck to the empty liquor bottles on the table, and finally to the twisted cigarette butts littering the ashtray.
“Take a look at the perfect daughter-in-law you handpicked,” he muttered into the recording. “Out partying until the middle of the night, and wasted to this pathetic state.”