Chapter 2: He Was Starting to Feel Like a Truly Deranged Villain

At the sound of Quan Heng’s deathly calm voice, everyone he addressed instinctively held their breath.

They were all stunned by how quickly he’d resorted to violence. Most of them only knew how to throw punches in bed; none of them were equipped for a real fight.

The bodyguards hired by the CEOs were all stationed outside the door. Their subordinates had been told to ignore any noise and not interrupt their bosses’ fun. They weren’t about to ruin the evening now.

One man panicked and rushed to the door. He grabbed the handle, only to discover the door had been locked from the inside. It wouldn’t budge.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got the key.” Quan Heng’s eyes gleamed. Blood had spattered around his eyes and across his lashes, but it didn’t stop him from taking in every detail of the room.

The man holding the doorknob flinched. Without a word, he slunk back into the corner.

“CEOs,” Quan Heng said. He ignored the lackeys and fixed his gaze on the most powerful people in the room. The men trying to sneakily reach for their phones lowered their hands, trembling, as they heard his next words.

“Keep an eye on them. If anyone sends a message, I’ll carve as many wounds into him as there are strokes in his name.”

Quan Heng smiled. It was the middle of July, yet sweat broke out across everyone’s skin.

CEO Wang frantically muffled out, “Mmm! Mmm! Mmm-mmm-mmm!” Even without words, his tone made it clear: anyone who moved would be blacklisted. His companions could only put their phones away, tears of fear in their eyes.

“Good. You’re being so well-behaved. I knew I could count on you.” Quan Heng stood and stepped over the sofa. He looked down at the head pig, huddled in the corner, and saw his own reflection in the man’s wide, horrified eyes.

I’m starting to feel like a truly deranged villain.

But that wasn’t important.

He crouched and patted CEO Wang’s face, coming away with a hand smeared in oil and blood. Frowning, he wiped it on Wang’s collar.

“Why are you crying? You’re just sad we didn’t get to share that toast.” He smiled calmly, as if he couldn’t understand the man’s tears, then tugged his tie and forced his face toward the manager. “Look, though. I even got you an indirect kiss.”

…

The room fell so silent it seemed dead. Someone began to laugh while still crying. When the others turned to look, it seemed they’d imagined it.

Everyone was swallowed up in grief and terror.

Quan Heng didn’t care. He only asked CEO Wang, “Do you like it?”

No answer.

“Not going to say anything?”

“Mm—”

“Use your words. Do you like it, CEO Wang?”

Unable to open his mouth, CEO Wang nodded in terror.

“Good. I’m glad you like my gift.” Satisfied, Quan Heng patted his shoulder and stepped down from the sofa.

The other middle-aged men watched him approach, their faces pale. They called his name as Quan Heng reached over and pulled a phone from the suit pocket of the man nearest him.

The screen was lit, displaying an active call.

A voice came through. “Hello? Boss?”

“Shh.” Quan Heng kicked the phone’s owner to the floor and ground his head underfoot until his mouth was pressed hard against the ground. Only then, as everyone else clamped their mouths shut or covered them with their hands, did he nod.

“CEO Wang says not to bother him unless the sky’s falling—or Ms. Zeng catches him cheating.”

“Got it.” The CEOs’ bodyguards were huddled together outside. They didn’t suspect a thing; they assumed their bosses were having a good time with company and had called to pass along the message.

Inside the room, though, everyone felt as if they’d fallen into a frozen lake. They watched Quan Heng hang up, their last hope gone.

The young men and women who’d only come to fawn over the CEOs in hopes of getting ahead were frightened. But the middle-aged men were even more desperate. CEO Wang most of all.

They couldn’t understand how someone with no connections could know that Wang’s in-laws had the surname Zeng—or that Ms. Zeng might show up to catch him cheating. Only people close to him knew those things.

“Don’t be scared.” Quan Heng took in their varied expressions, then hooked a finger through the bag the courier had delivered and headed for the microphone stand.

The people hiding near it scrambled out of the way. Everyone watched him climb onto a tall stool, his long legs hanging loose. He looked perfectly at ease.

The man who looked so relaxed rummaged in the bag. The first thing he pulled out was a stack of CDs.

Some people were confused. Others went white.

“CEO Song, these adult films you acted in—would you like me to upload them online?”

Quan Heng’s voice came through the microphone loud and clear. Everyone heard it.

They would have preferred to go deaf. Instead, they watched CEO Song shake like a leaf and drop to his knees in front of Quan Heng, begging him to spare him.

Quan Heng ignored him. He put the CDs away and pulled out a cartoon-covered notebook. It looked completely ordinary, but another middle-aged man turned ashen.

“CEO Zhong, does your wife know about the love letters you wrote to your old flame? Why don’t I read them aloud—”

“I was wrong! Please, give it back!” CEO Zhong dropped to his knees too.

Quan Heng continued rummaging. “CEO Gou, what about the company funds you embezzled from your wife’s business—”

CEO Gou knelt as well.

The three middle-aged men ended up shoulder to shoulder, kneeling in perfect devotion. They didn’t care about the curious stares pricking at their backs; they could only keep apologizing.

CEO Wang and the manager had even forgotten their pain. Their ears perked up and their eyes widened. Then Quan Heng called their names, too.

He pulled out a child’s red neckerchief. “CEO Wang, your illegitimate child…”

Then a pinhole camera. “Manager He, you and your assistant have been pimping people out and coercing them into sex…”

Two more men hit their knees.

No one in the room dared breathe too loudly. The young stars who’d just learned the CEOs’ secrets covered their mouths and ears, wishing they could travel back in time and kill the version of themselves who’d agreed to attend this dinner.

“Don’t be scared.” The devil in their eyes was telling them not to be scared again, but nobody in the room felt anything but fear.

Quan Heng spoke gently, like a man trying to be reasonable. “Here’s what we’ll do. You can race. The first person to crawl over to me gets to take his things.”

“Don’t avoid the food on the floor,” he added with a cheerful smile and eyes as soft as spring water. “The shortest route is a straight line, you know.”

As soon as he finished, the men scrambled toward him. They didn’t care that shards of glass were cutting into their flesh. Even the injured manager and CEO Wang crawled at remarkable speed.

Terrified of falling behind, they trampled through spilled soup and food. Blood and champagne mingled on the floor, reflecting a beautiful, mottled shimmer in Quan Heng’s eyes. Under the lights, the colors were so vivid they seemed dreamlike—like the sunset he’d seen before he died, slowly twisting into a whirlpool.

His fingers tapped out a rhythm for the race. Then, beside him, the window suddenly crashed open from the outside.

A person he hadn’t expected burst into view, snapping the haze apart.

The man in the blue-and-yellow delivery uniform clambered in, blood from the broken glass on his hands.

“Run—!”

Wen Congrong’s voice cut off. He stared at the shocking scene, then instinctively locked eyes with the man sitting on the tall stool.

The handsome man he’d thought had been forced into a dead end blinked and tilted his head, giving him a brilliant smile.

His lips moved, as if he were saying something, but Wen Congrong couldn’t make it out.

Quan Heng ran his tongue over his teeth and mouthed, with relish, Oh, my protagonist.

A protagonist.

Quan Heng was honestly surprised. The utterly ordinary-looking Wen Congrong had come back—and in the most unexpected way.

In his mind, the system was both bewildered and thrilled. Congratulations, Host! You’ve managed to make the protagonist offend several CEOs before he’s even entered show business!

Quan Heng ignored the system’s celebratory clanging. He got up and went to the window, looking down. They were on the eighth floor. He had no idea how Wen Congrong had overcome his fear and climbed up here.

“Are you a monkey or something?” Quan Heng bent toward him and asked softly, his face close to Wen Congrong’s.

A handsome face suddenly filled Wen Congrong’s vision. Even with blood flecked across it, it was all the more striking. Wen Congrong froze for a moment, then reached up and pushed him back so he wouldn’t lean too far out and fall.

With his other hand, Wen Congrong braced himself and swung in through the window.

The graceful entrance drew everyone’s attention. The CEOs, who’d been crawling along the floor, stopped and stared at him with hostile eyes.

It was obvious what they thought. Between the delivery uniform and the window-climbing, they’d mistaken Wen Congrong for Quan Heng’s accomplice.

“Why did you stop?” Quan Heng brought the bag to the window. As everyone watched in fury, he held it out over the ledge. “Keep going. Come on, this way.”

Wen Congrong stood by the window, eyes wide, watching a group of potbellied middle-aged men crawl toward him on their knees, their backsides sticking up in the air as they struggled to get the hang of it.

If the floor hadn’t been such a mess, and the others hadn’t been huddled together shaking, he might have thought he’d stumbled into some sort of unspeakable, unwatchable kink scene.

The first to reach the finish line was CEO Wang.

It was hard to believe that the pig with the worst injuries was also the fastest. With a burst of speed at the last second, he overtook CEO Song and won by a full body length.

“Congratulations, CEO Wang…” Quan Heng looked down at the man clutching his trouser leg. The crisp fabric was stained with grime and smeared with fingerprints.

He met Wang’s eyes. The middle-aged man put on a fawning smile. Quan Heng smiled back. Then he straightened the finger he’d hooked over the window’s edge and pointed it down.

Everyone stretched their necks in disbelief. They couldn’t get there in time to stop him. All they could do was watch the bag drop out of sight and wait until, much later, they heard it hit the ground.

For a moment, not a single person in the room breathed.

Quan Heng ignored the bloodshot, furious looks fixed on him. He bent down and yanked his trousers free, pulling so hard CEO Wang toppled backward onto the floor.

Then he looked around the room, eyes curving as a low laugh escaped his throat.

“Now it’s time for the second race.”

He flicked his hand. The key in his palm traced a lovely arc across the room and landed in a puddle of greasy soup. It was filthy. Disgusting.

No one cared anymore. In the blink of an eye, several people had thrown themselves at it, rolling over one another as they fought for the key. Then someone bolted for the door. His trembling fingers shoved the key into the lock. When it clicked open, he let out a quiet cheer.

Overjoyed that the door really had opened, the man didn’t hurry out. Instead, he turned excitedly toward the CEOs, who were being helped up by people rushing to their sides.

Once he was sure they’d seen what he’d done, he stepped aside respectfully. Only after the CEOs had scrambled into the hall did he follow.

The private room emptied in a blink. Everyone ran for the door, desperate to save their own skin. But judging by their path, they were all heading toward the first-floor entrance beneath the window.

Quan Heng smiled. He hadn’t underestimated their obsequious nature or their ability to claw their way out of trouble at any cost.

Perhaps the rush of people fleeing had been loud enough to draw attention from the other private rooms. Several people came out to look. They whispered among themselves, then peered into the room. The blood and wreckage on the floor stopped them in their tracks.

“Enjoying the view?” The blood-spattered man smiled gently at them. His lovely face looked almost demonic. After staring a moment longer, they shook their heads and hurried away.

Once the onlookers had scattered, Quan Heng turned to the protagonist and said lazily, “You should run too.”

Otherwise, once the CEOs came to their senses, they’d come after him.

“No rush.” Wen Congrong surprised even himself. He was still calm enough to answer a phone call.

“Yeah, Brother Dong. I found him. He’s fine.” He replied to the person on the other end, then exclaimed in surprise, “What? You’re waiting under the window, and you nearly got hit by something falling from above?”

Wen Congrong straightened from where he’d been leaning against the wall and met Quan Heng’s interested gaze. Then he hurriedly looked out the window.

Sure enough, he spotted a familiar figure. “Yeah, that was mine. Grab it and run!”

“Right! Okay, there aren’t any cameras there, are there? It’s a blind spot? Good, good—”

Wen Congrong spoke quickly. He watched the figure climb over a wall and disappear in a flash. When he ended the call, he still felt dazed and astonished.

He wasn’t stupid. It was obvious that the man in front of him had used the things in the bag to threaten a roomful of people. That was why the room had become such a disaster.

Now that the bag had hit Brother Dong and Brother Dong had picked it up and run, that was far better than letting the villains get hold of it and come back to threaten them.

“Congratulations,” Quan Heng said.

Warm breath brushed Wen Congrong’s ear. He jerked his head up and realized the other man had somehow moved close to him. Their faces were inches apart. Quan Heng’s gaze was languid, his posture intimate.

Quan Heng found it fascinating.

The protagonist.

So the man in front of him wasn’t completely ordinary after all. He had extraordinary luck—and a protagonist’s halo.

At the same time, the system’s warning flooded his mind. It’s over, Host! The evidence against the CEOs is in the protagonist’s hands! Go get it back!