Yaochi Banquet Club was the most exclusive club in Wancheng.
Officially, it was members-only, but without the right connections, even money wouldn’t get you in.
It was a den of luxury and excess. In the private rooms, each decorated in a different style, you never knew which powerful, well-known figure from Wancheng might be sitting inside.
Qin An was entertaining clients there that evening. He’d only stayed for a little while before growing bored and stepping out into the courtyard for some air.
A few minutes later, his assistant came to fetch him. The First Young Master was there too, he said, and wanted Qin An to go over and greet their elders.
Qin Ming had spent a month reflecting on his “romantic escapades” and had only just been let off the hook a few days ago. As it happened, both brothers were entertaining clients at the same place that evening.
Since he was being asked to greet their elders, Qin An couldn’t very well refuse. He nodded and let his assistant lead the way.
Yaochi Banquet Club occupied a vast area, its courtyard a maze of winding paths. As they passed a private room, Qin An heard a sweet, soft cry from inside.
He glanced over without thinking—and stopped in his tracks.
The door was open. The club manager stood outside, but didn’t dare intervene.
The room was in an uproar. The young woman who had dared to throw a screen at him just last week was now in a man’s arms, struggling with all her might.
She was crying and begging for mercy, while everyone around them watched, excited by the spectacle.
Qin An’s gaze paused on her waist, then her face. His expression cooled.
“Go see what’s going on.” He looked into the room. “What is that useless Zhao Qingyan up to now?”
The Zhao and Jiang families were connected by marriage. Zhao Qingyan was a distant relative on Qin An’s mother’s side. The connection was a little roundabout, but they knew each other.
The assistant went in at once. The manager by the door didn’t dare so much as breathe.
The moment someone appeared, the commotion stopped. Shi Jin’s face was a patchwork of bruises, blue and purple. He lay there with his eyes narrowed to slits, still trying to find Xu Tao.
Xu Tao had been slapped too. With tears streaking her face, she looked utterly wretched, trapped in Zhao Qingyan’s arms as he clutched her by the braid.
Zhao Qingyan didn’t look much better. Blood on his cheek had yet to dry, and half his hair and face were soaked in red wine.
Anyone could see what sort of place this was, but the assistant still asked respectfully, “Young Master Zhao, President Qin asked me to find out what happened. We have an honored guest at Yaochi Banquet Club tonight, so please don’t cause any trouble.”
Zhao Qingyan didn’t recognize the man, but the surname Qin was enough to make him wary. “And you are?”
“Young Master Zhao, you may not remember me. I’m Song Yuan, assistant to the president of Jiang Group.”
Zhao Qingyan immediately released Xu Tao’s hair and shoved her away, then craned his neck to look outside. “The Second Young Master is here? Is he…is he outside?”
He didn’t even dare call him Cousin. His expression turned uneasy at once.
People born into powerful families like Qin An’s rarely showed up at gatherings like theirs.
They kept a low profile and didn’t attract attention, but no one dared look down on them.
In their circle, they held a status not unlike princes. The Qin family was at the height of its power, and Qin An’s father, Qin Shaoxiong, wielded real authority. One of his two sons was in politics, the other in business. Everyone had to curry favor with them.
Zhao Qingyan, by contrast, was merely a castoff of the Zhao family.
He had given up his inheritance and lived off dividends from his shares, a marginal member of the family. His parents doted on him, and he relied on his young age and a little goodwill from his elders to throw his weight around.
As long as he didn’t go too far, no one bothered to rein him in.
If he did, they sent him abroad.
Zhao Qingyan only caught a distant glimpse of Qin An during holidays now and then. To be asked after by him directly today, he couldn’t help thinking something was wrong.
“May I go out and greet the Second Young Master?” Zhao Qingyan asked cautiously, a far cry from his earlier arrogance.
Song Yuan smiled and led him outside.
The moment Zhao Qingyan saw Qin An, his legs nearly gave way. He stood up straight and greeted him.
“Tell me, what kind of trouble have you gotten into this time?” Qin An didn’t look at him; his eyes were fixed on the room.
Xu Tao’s hair was disheveled. She crouched there, at a loss, while her boyfriend lay motionless, his face covered in blood.
Her phone seemed to be broken too; she couldn’t get through to anyone. She looked pitiful.
Zhao Qingyan knew there was no point trying to hide what had happened. He stammered, “She’s just a girl who wouldn’t listen. She agreed to be with me, then changed her mind. She even hit me with a wine bottle. Second Young Master, look at me—when have I ever been treated like this? I lost my temper in the heat of the moment.”
“Don’t worry, nobody’s going to die. My men know how far to go. They won’t make things difficult for the elders or disturb our honored guest. I’ll send them to the hospital right away, all right?”
They looked frightening, but the injuries were all external.
Qin An said nothing. He waited to see when the people in the room would notice him.
Xu Tao’s eyes were swollen from crying. Everything that had happened tonight had come out of nowhere. The sinister, ugly side of human nature had once again made her realize how helpless she was in the face of danger.
All she could do was watch Shi Jin get beaten, again.
It seemed that all his suffering was because of her.
Poverty was a sin; beauty made it worse.
No one would lend her a phone to call the police or an ambulance. They were all afraid of offending Zhao Qingyan. Xu Tao looked around in despair, then suddenly fixed her gaze on the doorway.
The man stood tall and straight, his bearing exceptional. A chill seemed to hang around him, and his eyes held a shadowy, unreadable light. He was nothing like the flippant man she’d met the first two times.
How could it be him?
Xu Tao couldn’t afford to think it through. As if she’d found a lifeline, she stumbled to her feet and rushed out, heedless of everything, toward the elegant, aloof man.
“Mr. Qin!” Tears as big as beans rolled down her cheeks. “I…I could borrow your phone?”
Qin An didn’t answer.
Zhao Qingyan was stunned. Xu Tao knew Qin An?
His mind raced through every possibility. Qin An had never had a woman by his side, but this didn’t look like a lover, either.
Otherwise, would he tolerate his woman having a boyfriend?
While Zhao Qingyan stood there in a daze, Qin An had already stepped in front of Xu Tao and was looking down at her face.
Her right cheek was badly swollen, the imprint of a hand still vivid. There was a red mark on the tip of her chin too. Zhao Qingyan might have grabbed her too hard—or perhaps she was simply delicate.
Instead of answering, Qin An asked, “Did you hit Zhao Qingyan over the head with a wine bottle?”
She had some nerve. She’d thrown a screen at him last time, and now she’d gone and hurt someone. Would she use a knife next time?
If she hadn’t run into him, there was no way she’d have made it out of that private room tonight.
Zhao Qingyan could have played her to death.
With no one to back her up, standing her ground was a dead end.
But Xu Tao was startled by his question. Suspiciously, she looked from him to Zhao Qingyan, then instinctively took a step back, as though she thought they were birds of a feather.
Qin An gave a quiet laugh. “What are you afraid of, Teacher Xu?”
His tone was casual. “Your hands are covered in blood, and you still want to use my phone?”
Xu Tao looked down. Her palms were sticky, bright red. The familiar sight brought her straight back to that year in high school, and her face turned even paler.
She swayed, as if she were about to fall apart.
Qin An thought she was in pain. His voice grew heavy. “Show me your hands.”
Xu Tao looked at him in alarm and drew her hands behind her back. There was no trust in her almond-shaped eyes. She was like a rabbit trapped in a hunting snare, fleeing in a panic.
“After all this, you’re still arguing with me.” Qin An felt a flicker of irritation, though he didn’t know where it had come from. His voice was cold as it washed over Xu Tao.
Her instincts told her it might be even more frightening to offend Mr. Qin.
Xu Tao bit her lip, then tremblingly held both hands out to him. Qin An examined them for a while and, after confirming there were no obvious wounds, instructed Song Yuan to handle the matter.
She thanked him softly, her voice as faint and wavering as a feather. Qin An found it irritating. He leaned toward her and lifted her chin. “You’re hurt this badly. Can you still come tomorrow?”
Xu Tao thought the gesture was too intimate. She tried to pull away, but couldn’t. She was truly frightened tonight. Her voice trembling, she gave a small shake of her head.
“I can come. It’s…nothing, Mr. Qin.”
The two of them seemed to be speaking in riddles. Zhao Qingyan couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but one thing was clear: he was finished. Xu Tao seemed to have some special relationship with Qin An.
Where was she supposed to go tomorrow?
Zhao Qingyan worked up the courage to apologize, his face pale. “It’s all a misunderstanding, Second Young Master. I didn’t know she was yours…”
Qin An turned his head and gave him a sidelong look. Zhao Qingyan immediately shut his mouth.
Xu Tao lowered her eyes. She knew Zhao Qingyan had misunderstood, thinking she and Mr. Qin had some improper relationship.