For several days, Liang Jiming didn’t see a trace of Yao Zhen.
The young master was out all night with his friends and spent the days behind closed doors catching up on sleep. His schedule was completely flipped, making him a ghost in the hotel. Whenever Liang Jiming asked the assistant, the answer was always the same: a party somewhere, out on a yacht, or racing cars on mountain roads. No rest at all.
Liang Jiming couldn’t approve of such a lifestyle, but given their flimsy, questionable relationship, he felt he had no right to interfere.
“The Young Master is at a bar tonight. I don’t know when they’ll be back,” Xiao Wei said as he dropped off some documents for Liang Jiming.
Ever since Liang Jiming had caught those contract loopholes, the hotel manager had been shamelessly bothering him every few days, insisting he review every important document. Liang Jiming flipped through the papers, his mind elsewhere. Having such a frivolous “husband” was like a thorn in his side. He couldn’t ignore the relationship, but it sparked a constant, simmering irritation.
This feeling of being out of control was something he instinctively disliked. He found it harder and harder to understand his pre-amnesia self. He even began to suspect that perhaps, before the memory loss, he had only been involved with the young master for the money.
He actually found that answer easier to swallow. There was nothing wrong with being profit-driven; even if he couldn’t remember his past, he could still feel the core of his personality. If that were the case, everything made sense.
At 10:30 PM, Liang Jiming finished the last page of his book. Yao Zhen still wasn’t back. For that crowd, the night was likely just beginning.
In a smoke-filled bar, Yao Zhen was in the middle of a drinking game. One of the playboys laughed. “It’s been days, Zhen-ge. You still haven’t smoothed things over with your sweetheart?”
“The guy won’t even talk to him. I think he’s wasting his breath.”
“Who knew our Zhen-ge would be henpecked? Ha-ha~”
They were all laughing, teasing him for being under his “wife’s” thumb. Yao Zhen ignored them, leaning back on the sofa to text Xiao Wei: [Find an excuse to get him to come over here.]
The “breakup” had just been a heat-of-the-moment threat. He wasn’t done playing yet; letting Liang Jiming off the hook that easily would be too boring.
Liang Jiming stood on the balcony with a cup of coffee, eyes closed. It was a recent habit—standing alone in the deep of the night. The sea breeze helped clear his head, and occasionally, blurry images would flash in his mind. Though he couldn’t grasp them yet, he felt it wouldn’t be long before he remembered.
The doorbell rang. Since it was a polite ring, it clearly wasn’t Yao Zhen.
Liang Jiming set down his coffee and opened the door. Xiao Wei looked awkward, claiming he had eaten something bad and had an upset stomach. The Young Master wanted his watch brought to him, but Xiao Wei “couldn’t make it” and asked if Liang Jiming could do him the favor.
Liang Jiming nodded. “Go rest.”
Xiao Wei looked like he’d been granted a royal pardon and vanished immediately.
Liang Jiming found Yao Zhen’s watch on the wet bar—a timepiece worth millions, tossed aside like a piece of junk. He picked it up, shoved it into his pocket, and headed downstairs.
He could have easily asked a staff member to deliver it, but after a moment’s thought, he decided to go himself. He wanted to see with his own eyes just how wild this “Young Master” of his was truly acting.
The bar was located in the entertainment wing on the other side of the hotel. It was a cacophony of noise, the music so loud it vibrated in one’s chest. Upon entering, the suffocating stench of alcohol and tobacco hit him instantly. Liang Jiming skillfully dodged the men and women who tried to lean in or strike up a conversation, making his way deep into the room until he spotted the crowd losing their minds in the center of the dance floor.
Yao Zhen was right there in the thick of it, jumping around to the wailing rock music and dancing closely with a girl who had a scorching figure. His pack of playboys were back at the booth, whistling, screaming, and egging them on.
Liang Jiming stood to the side, watching the scene with cold eyes. Not a single ripple of emotion crossed his face.
He and this young master were always from two different worlds, fundamentally incompatible.
Yao Zhen was completely swept up in the high of the moment. After finishing his dance, he returned to the booth and collapsed into the sofa. Someone immediately handed him a drink; without even looking, he took a massive gulp.
Someone with sharp eyes spotted Liang Jiming standing in the shadows.
“Yo, look who’s here!” Zhao Zihua was the first to cry out, his tone exaggerated and full of mischief. “Zhen-ge, look! Your ‘better half’ has come to check up on you!”
Yao Zhen’s hand, gripped around his glass, froze.
He followed their gaze and met Liang Jiming’s eyes, which were silently fixed on him. He felt an increasing heat rise within him. With a grin, he beckoned Liang over. “Come here.”
As Liang Jiming stepped forward, the heckling from the crowd grew even louder.
“Since you’re here, you have to drink! Come sit here!”
“Exactly! Zhen-ge has missed you so much these past few days, look at how thin he’s gotten~”
“Such a lack of respect for our Zhen-ge—you definitely have to take a penalty drink!”
This group was completely wasted, forgetting that a “lofty flower” like Liang Jiming wasn’t one of them; they only cared about the spectacle. Under their egging on and the influence of the alcohol, Yao Zhen wasn’t thinking clearly and wanted to reclaim some ground in front of Liang Jiming.
He grabbed a bottle of hard liquor that had just been opened, filled a glass to the brim, and stood up unsteadily. He walked over to Liang Jiming and shoved the glass into his hand.
“Drink!” Yao Zhen tilted his chin up, his eyes flashing with provocation. “My friends are toasting you—you must drink.”
Liang Jiming looked down at the glass in his hand, which was nearly overflowing, then raised his eyes to look at Yao Zhen. The young master’s face was flushed from the alcohol, his gaze bleary as he stared straight at him. The surrounding noise was almost enough to blow the roof off.
Without saying a word, Liang Jiming took the glass. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, he tilted his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he downed the harsh liquor in one go.
The spicy liquid slid down his throat, bringing a burning sensation. His expression didn’t change in the slightest, though the look deep in his eyes grew even darker.
“Good! That’s the spirit!”
“Another one!”
Liang Jiming set the empty glass down. Ignoring the rowdy crowd, his gaze locked onto Yao Zhen’s face. He reached out and directly grabbed Yao Zhen’s wrist.
The grip was not light, carrying a sense of irresistible force.
“Come back with me.”
Liang Jiming’s voice wasn’t loud, yet it was exceptionally clear amidst the rowdy clamor.
Yao Zhen struggled briefly but couldn’t break free. “I don’t want to! I haven’t had enough fun yet.”
Liang Jiming didn’t waste any more words; he pulled him away directly. A few playboys nearby thought of stopping him, but when they met Liang Jiming’s indifferent, sweeping gaze, they froze and instinctively moved out of the way.
“What are you doing?” Yao Zhen’s wrist throbbed with pain from the tight grip, and he complained as he struggled.
Liang Jiming turned a deaf ear, forcibly dragging him out of the bar.
After a trail of pushing and pulling all the way to the open-air poolside, Yao Zhen was still cursing and swearing.
“Let go of me!” He forcefully shook off Liang Jiming’s hand.
“Since you love playing so much,” Liang Jiming began, his voice suppressed with emotion, “since you’re so inseparable from these friends and this lifestyle, there is absolutely no need for you to stay here. I’ve told you—you can go back and continue being the ten-billion-dollar young master.”
Even if he was “serving a benefactor,” he had no desire to cater to such a useless, aimless waste of space who lived only for the moment.
Yao Zhen looked up. The alcohol made his reactions sluggish, but he understood the contempt in Liang Jiming’s tone.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” His eyes instantly turned red with fury as he barked, “I gave you some respect, didn’t I? I come and go as I please—what business is it of yours? You look down on me? Well, I look down on you too! You’re the one who ruined me like this!”
He was indeed being unreasonable. Even after he had exposed this bastard’s true colors, Shen Jinghe still refused to break up with the scoundrel. If it wasn’t for his foul mood, why would he have been drag racing in the middle of the night, and why would his old man have banished him here to reflect? It was all Liang Jiming’s fault!
“I am merely stating facts,” Liang Jiming said steadily, maintaining his patience. “Since you’re so impatient to stay here, for your own sake, you should go back.”
“You’ve never respected me. What right do you have to look down on me? Get lost—”
The alcohol rushed to his head, and Yao Zhen took a staggering step backward.
He didn’t notice that the edge of the pool was right behind him. His foot hit empty air.
“Ah—!”
Amidst a sharp cry, Yao Zhen pitched backward, falling into the deep end with a heavy “plop.”
Water splashed everywhere.
Yao Zhen thrashed violently in the icy pool water. He had drunk a lot of alcohol, making his brain dizzy to begin with, and the sudden terror of drowning sent him into a total panic. His hands and feet flailed wildly, yet he only continued to sink.
He didn’t know how to swim at all, and the water rushing in from all sides quickly submerged him.
On the shore, Liang Jiming’s pupils constricted at the sight, and a flash of panic finally appeared on his normally calm face. He swiftly kicked off his shoes, plunged into the water, and reached the sinking Yao Zhen in a few strokes, grabbing him firmly. Survival instinct made Yao Zhen cling to him with both hands and feet, dragging Liang Jiming down with him. For a full half-minute, Yao Zhen’s struggling grew weaker until Liang Jiming finally managed to hoist him above the water and bring him to the edge of the pool.
When he was dragged onto the shore, Yao Zhen had nearly lost consciousness; his face was deathly pale and his lips were turning purple. Liang Jiming knelt beside him, rapidly checking his breathing and pulse. There was no time for hesitation; he pinched Yao Zhen’s nose, leaned down, and pressed his mouth over those cold, purple lips to perform artificial respiration.
Once, twice… he rhythmically and forcefully blew air in, then performed chest compressions. The night wind was cold, blowing against their soaked bodies. The light from the pool shimmered, reflecting Liang Jiming’s tense profile and his constantly moving silhouette.
“Cough—! Cough-cough-cough—!”
Yao Zhen suddenly coughed up a large mouthful of water and began coughing violently, his breathing restored. Liang Jiming stopped his movements and slumped back, exhausted.
Yao Zhen curled up, hacking up water, his wet eyelashes drooping—he no longer had any of his previous overbearing arrogance. He slowly came to, opening his eyes and focusing his blurry vision on Liang Jiming’s face. He saw the gloom in Liang Jiming’s eyes, his dripping hair, and his tightly set lips. The cold and suffocating sensation from underwater had not yet fully dissipated, and Liang Jiming’s nearby breath and warmth felt exceptionally real.
The young master opened his mouth, his voice raspy and weak, carrying the dazed sobs of a survivor.
“You… what did you just do?” Huh?!