Chapter 7: This Child Is Truly Pitiful

Chapter 7: This Kid's a Real Sob Story

Wen Yu wanted to check out who he was marrying, so he went to find Wen Hanzhou. Before Wen Hanzhou could get a word out, Wen Qingshi, who'd caught the whole thing from across the yard, waved him over like he was calling a dog. "You wanna see what your fiancé looks like?"

"Big bro's tied up, so I'll take you."

Wen Qingshi's motives were anyone's guess.

Wen Hanzhou stood in the doorway, cup of tea in hand, steam curling up and fogging his face, hiding whatever he was thinking. "Might as well let you get a look at him. Qingshi, take him over to see Mr. Shen."

Wen Qingshi turned, hands shoved in his pockets, took two steps, stopped, and glanced back over his shoulder. "You coming or not?"

"Look, I don't like you, but I'm not gonna hurt you, little bro."

Wen Qingshi tacked on, and that was the one thing Wen Yu couldn't say no to.

If he didn't go, the Wen family would peg him as petty, always butting heads with Wen Qingshi.

The kid stood there, watching Wen Qingshi's back for a solid three seconds. "Fine. I'll go."

By the time the car pulled out of the old estate that day, it was already dark.

Wen Yu sat in the back, spine rigid, hands planted on his knees, fingers knotted together.

Wen Qingshi might not hurt him, but everyone else? That was a whole other story.

Wen Qingshi was scrolling through his phone in the passenger seat. The pin on the screen wasn't the Shen place—it was some private club.

The car pulled up to a squat, gray-walled building. Two guys in black suits and earpieces stood at the door, the hard outlines of holsters visible under the streetlights.

When Wen Yu climbed out, his legs almost buckled.

"Where are we?" Wen Yu called out from behind.

Wen Qingshi didn't answer.

The second they hit the hallway, Wen Yu knew something was wrong.

The hallway was lined with nude art—paintings of bodies everywhere.

Doors lined the hall. When one swung open, a blast of wild music hit, the lights flared, and the noise of voices spilled out.

The room was huge, with a white shag sofa that looked like a skinned animal pelt.

A few young guys were sprawled on the sofa, all in pricey clothes with no logos—the kind that cost more than anything branded.

When they spotted Wen Qingshi, a couple stood up, a couple raised their glasses, and one guy let out a whistle.

"Qingshi! Shit, how long's it been?!"

A guy in a white suit sauntered over, slung an arm around Wen Qingshi's shoulder, and let his eyes slide past him to land on Wen Yu.

The place was crawling with guys and girls—a total playground for the rich.

The suit was Wen Qingshi's boy, the Zhao family's heir apparent—Zhao Chenzui.

He sized Wen Yu up with a nasty grin. "This your friend?"

Wen Qingshi's eyes landed on the open bottle of red on the coffee table. His voice came out low and lazy. "Friend?"

"He said he wanted a taste of high society, so I figured I'd show him how the other half lives."

Zhao Chenzui smiled like some psycho out of a horror flick. "That right?"

Wen Qingshi nodded, grabbed the pricey bottle off the table, and passed it to Zhao Chenzui. "He's a coward. Won't be a problem."

Wen Yu couldn't follow the conversation, but he knew damn well it wasn't about anything good.

"Wen Qingshi."

Wen Yu didn't call him "second brother." His voice came out like he was screaming from the bottom of a lake, face drained white. "Where's my fiancé?"

Through the haze of smoke, Wen Qingshi's smile was like a night soaked in music and booze—a blade glinting in the dark. "Fiancé?"

"There's no fiancé."

Wen Yu's eyes went wide, pupils shrinking to pinpricks, tears brimming, throat so tight he couldn't swallow. "You lied to me."

"Didn't you say you wouldn't hurt me?"

Wen Yu was still way too naive. How could he have believed a single word out of Wen Qingshi's mouth?

Zhao Chenzui asked again, "This kid's got a fiancé?"

Wen Qingshi let out a laugh. "Fiancé? That's just some Cinderella pipe dream."

"Just brought him out to see how the world works, so he remembers where he stands."

Zhao Chenzui sprawled back on the couch, all smug. "Fair enough."

"If you wanna climb into someone's bed, you gotta learn how to crawl first."

That got the whole room laughing.

"Hahaha."

Someone snorted out a laugh, breath thick with booze and smoke, and it turned Wen Yu's stomach.

The laughter rolled through the smoke and got swallowed up by the music.

Wen Yu's fists clenched. His eyes locked on the still-fizzing wine on the table, and in the faces of those strangers, he saw some beast ready to rip his throat out.

Wen Yu shot to his feet.

He moved fast—too fast. His knee cracked into the table's corner, doubling him over in pain, but he didn't stop.

He bolted for the door, stumbling, like an animal with a busted leg, dragging its broken limb, running for its life.

The second his fingers hit the door handle, a hand slammed it shut against the door.

A big hand. Thick knuckles. A dark blue tattoo snaking from the base of the thumb all the way up into the sleeve.

"Where you running to?"

The voice dropped from above, reeking of liquor and smoke—that smell of something feral and hungry. "Thought you wanted to get in bed?"

The light seared into his eyes, forcing them shut, and when they adjusted, Wen Yu saw the face.

He looked to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with features that bore some resemblance to Wen Qingshi's, but rougher, wilder—like two fruits from the same tree, one grown in sunlight, the other in a gutter.

Zhao Chenzui's lips curled upward, baring his teeth like a wolf spotting prey. "Wen Qingshi, where did you dig up a piece like this?"

Wen Qingshi didn't answer.

Zhao Chenzui held the drugged drink in his hand, the liquor dripping from Wen Yu's chin down to his collarbone, then soaking into the shirt fabric clinging to his skin.

Wen Yu was forced to hold the liquor in his mouth for a long moment before being made to swallow.

"Cough—"

The burn traveled all the way from his throat to his stomach.

"Get off! All of you, get off!"

Wen Yu shouted as he was dragged back onto the sofa. Tears fell, streaming down his cheeks and dripping into the drugged glass, stirring tiny ripples.

He was pinned by the back of his neck and pressed down at the waist—like a butterfly pinned to a board, wings spread, body fixed, every ounce of strength to struggle drained away bit by bit.

Someone pressed the glass to his lips, the rim cold, carrying the burn of alcohol.

Someone else groped his waist without a shred of restraint, making Wen Yu want to vomit.

Others grabbed his hair, treating him like a toy with no boundaries.

Wen Yu's throat grew hoarse as the liquor was forced down, tears soaking his cheeks.

His whimpering only made the group more vicious.

They had a taste for cruelty, leaning into it.

With the last of his strength, Wen Yu grabbed a nearby bottle and smashed it against Zhao Chenzui's head. While everyone rushed to Zhao Chenzui, Wen Yu pressed the handle, shoved the door open, and ran.

He sprinted down the corridor.

The hallway was long, lined with identical doors on both sides. Wen Yu ran past mirror after mirror, catching glimpses of himself—red-rimmed eyes, red nose, shirt torn open, hair soaked—like a stranger he didn't know.

Behind him, Zhao Chenzui chased him like a cat toying with a mouse.

Wen Yu reached the end of the corridor, facing the final door. He seized the handle, pressed it down, and pushed.

The door opened.

The room was dark, with no lights on.

Inside were two large sofas. On the front one sat five or six people, one of them holding a glass of wine. The ice cubes in the glass caught the moonlight, clinking softly.

Wen Yu's fingers trembled. Tears dripped onto the back of his hand.

The footsteps in the hallway stopped.

Zhao Chenzui stepped in, froze, his gaze landing on the man on the sofa. "Uncle?!"

The man on the sofa shifted, setting his glass down on the coffee table with a light tap against the marble surface. "You're playing cat and mouse?"

Zhao Chenzui hadn't expected to run into his uncle here. His uncle came from the Xiao family, one of the three top-tier powerful families in S Country—but judging by where his uncle was sitting, there had to be someone even more formidable than him in this room.

"He's just someone who wanted to see the world and climb into bed. He played hard to get and smashed my head in." Zhao Chenzui spoke casually.

The man, face covered in stubble, raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You can't even handle a little piece?"

Zhao Chenzui instinctively stepped back a few paces. His uncle continued, addressing Wen Yu, "Since my nephew can't satisfy you, how about we both have a go?"

Wen Yu was like a rabbit that had escaped one cage, only to land in a tiger's den.

His shirt had two buttons torn open, the collar pulled to one side, exposing his collarbone and a sliver of chest. The dried blood on his lip had split open again, bright red, like a freshly bloomed flower.

"I'll call the police!" Wen Yu threatened through sobs. "How can you do this? Are you even human?"

The man looked at the tempting sight and couldn't help but laugh. "A real tease, aren't you?"

He immediately ordered the people at the door, "Take him down, clean him up, and bring him back."

Wen Yu was terrified, curling up in a corner. The alcohol was dulling his mind, clouding his consciousness.

Just as someone moved to drag him out, a voice spoke up.

"This child is pitiful."

The voice was clear, carrying a hint of androgynous charm.

Zhao Chenzui's uncle didn't dare move. The voice came from the back sofa.

The air in the room instantly froze.