Chapter 17

Qin Juanshu possessively pulled Bai Ying into his arms and led him into the bar, shoving aside anyone who got in their way without explanation. When he had come out earlier, he had rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, revealing arm muscles that weren’t as exaggerated as those of the beefy guy who had tried to hit on Bai Ying, but they were clearly not the flashy, gym-sculpted kind. Combined with his stern, intimidating face, no one dared approach despite their reluctance.

Bai Ying found their position rather odd. The arm clamped around his waist felt like it was made of iron. He tugged at it discreetly—rock hard, not budging an inch. Qin Juanshu lowered his head and murmured in his ear, in a voice only the two of them could hear, “Don’t move.”

The hot breath on his ear made his earlobe flush red involuntarily.

The hand clutching Qin Juanshu’s arm froze. Bai Ying couldn’t help but tilt his head to the side. “Why?”

Qin Juanshu sighed. “Idiot.”

…This was shameless slander!

Bai Ying bristled with mild anger but didn’t dare confront his boss outright. He could only mutter softly in rebuttal, “How am I an idiot…”

How wasn’t he? Qin Juanshu thought. He still hadn’t noticed anything off about this place. If Qin Juanshu hadn’t staked his claim so aggressively, given Bai Ying’s oblivious nature, who knew if he could have gone home unscathed tonight.

Qin Juanshu used his body to block all the leering gazes aimed at Bai Ying. What a bunch of perverts—they looked at him like they’d never seen a beautiful person before.

He escorted Bai Ying back to the bar counter before finally releasing him. He grabbed the drink menu from the table. “What do you want to drink?”

“I don’t drink alcohol,” Bai Ying emphasized. He could keep him company and chat, but drinking was out of the question.

Bai Ying’s tolerance wasn’t bad, but under the influence of alcohol, he tended to unconsciously revert to his true form. Ever since the thank-you banquet after high school graduation, when one glass had nearly led to him performing a full transformation in front of the entire class, he had sworn off anything alcoholic.

Qin Juanshu said, “Bars don’t just serve alcohol.”

Bai Ying flipped through the menu. Since the boss was treating, why not? He quickly pointed to one item. “This one, then.”

Long Island Iced Tea—probably some kind of fruit tea, right?

Qin Juanshu: “…”

He watched as Bai Ying innocently pointed to the infamous “lose-your-innocence” cocktail from bar legends, his pupils contracting in shock.

It was a miracle this guy had survived to adulthood unscathed!

“…Since you don’t drink, just order a glass of water next time you come to a bar alone.” Qin Juanshu ruffled the silly kid’s hair and ordered him a cranberry juice.

The juice arrived quickly, ice cubes clinking in the glass. Bai Ying sipped it slowly while hugging the cup. Qin Juanshu ordered some snacks and set aside his half-finished drink, content to watch Bai Ying eat.

Bai Ying found it strange. Had Qin Juanshu called him out just to feed him?

He cleared his throat lightly to remind him. “If you call an employee out during vacation, you should pay overtime…”

His voice trailed off, sounding utterly timid. His previous bosses had rarely mentioned overtime for weekend work—covering meals and transport was already generous. But Qin Juanshu was the new boss parachuted in; maybe he was easier to negotiate with?

Qin Juanshu nodded. “I’ll give you ten times overtime.”

Bai Ying: “!”

He had only hoped for five times at most, with expectations as low as three!

Please make him work overtime!

But shouldn’t the boss assign him some tasks? Holding that overtime pay without doing anything made him uneasy. Bai Ying gazed at Qin Juanshu eagerly, trying to convey his eagerness to work with his eyes.

Qin Juanshu didn’t notice when his expression had softened, a smile even tugging unconsciously at his lips. “I had dinner today with someone I really dislike, and we ended up in a huge argument. I didn’t even eat.”

Bai Ying got it. Qin Juanshu had called him out to vent. Just like how he and his colleagues often trashed their boss together—venting alone only made you more frustrated, but group griping turned shared outrage into sweet relief.

Bai Ying pushed the snacks toward Qin Juanshu. “That must be one really bad person!”

“Extremely bad!” Qin Juanshu mimicked Bai Ying’s tone. “Even though he’s married, he cheated with another woman and had an illegitimate child with her.”

“Absolute scum!” The highly principled little snake cursed with genuine fervor.

“But after his affair was exposed, he told his original wife, his child, and everyone else that he had been seduced by that woman. He still loved his family; he was the victim too.” Qin Juanshu continued.

“That’s too much,” Bai Ying disapproved. “If the seduction succeeded, it’s because someone wanted to cheat. He actively made the mistake happen—how can he shift the blame?”

Exactly—the truth even a little fool understood. How could Qin Chi not?

He was just dodging responsibility: blaming his assistant for boldly seducing him, his wife for being petty enough to commit suicide, his son for not understanding and wanting to leave the family… Qin Chi thought everything he did had its reasons. As the superior, husband, and father, how could he possibly be wrong?

Qin Juanshu would never forgive him.

Qin Juanshu rarely vented his hatred for Qin Chi to others. First, words felt too weak compared to actions. Second, he didn’t want to see even a hint of sympathy for Qin Chi from anyone. Qin Chi’s status and wealth led many to excuse him instinctively. So what if a powerful man cheated? Hadn’t his official wife stayed the same all these years? He hadn’t even acknowledged the illegitimate child yet—that was already pretty good!

But Bai Ying’s thinking was straightforward. His likes and dislikes were genuine, uninfluenced by anything else. Qin Juanshu was certain that even if he told Bai Ying now that the person he was cursing was the current chairman of Minghong Group, Bai Ying would at most curse a little more timidly.

Such a person—pure, soft, utterly unlike others on his side—made Qin Juanshu feel an unprecedented ease, the depression in his heart dissipating significantly.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted someone foolishly heading their way, eyes already glued to Bai Ying before they even arrived. Qin Juanshu pulled Bai Ying to his feet. There was no point staying here; too many people had designs on Bai Ying, and he didn’t like drinking anyway, leaving him with nothing to do in the bar.

Besides, alcohol couldn’t dispel his gloom—what could was seeing Bai Ying smile more.

“What’s up?” Bai Ying’s hand was held by Qin Juanshu. Puzzled, he hopped down from the chair. “Not drinking anymore?”

“Yeah, no more drinking. Let’s go for a walk.” Qin Juanshu thought for a moment. “It’s pretty popular online… something called a citywalk?”

Qin Juanshu looked uncharacteristically awkward.

Compared to Bai Ying, he was getting on in years—six whole years older. Always buried in work, he had lost touch with what young people enjoyed nowadays.

Bai Ying tried to act like he knew all about it.

But his pretense failed. Ever since entering the workforce, his job had been insanely demanding, leaving no energy to keep up with white-collar trends.

Whose fault was that? The capitalists’!

Bai Ying sighed wistfully. “No idea. No time to check that stuff out.”

The parachuted-in boss dangled a carrot. “I’ll give you guys more vacation time from now on.”

As they headed out, they searched on some app for the best citywalk routes in Shen City. They hadn’t decided on one yet when, in the Gay Bar, guests realizing they might never see this stunning beauty again seized the chance for a last flirt, trying to ignore Qin Juanshu the flower guardian and charge ahead.

Qin Juanshu simply grabbed Bai Ying and ran, plunging into the neon ocean of the bar street, parting the surging crowd coming their way. The night breeze was cool, but their clasped hands burned hot. Thump, thump—Qin Juanshu’s heart pounded wildly.

The heartbeat of youth he had never experienced seemed to arrive in this moment—perhaps even earlier, but right here, right now, he could no longer pretend it didn’t exist.