Seventeenth Blood Orange

Even with both doors shut tight, the sound of revelry and banter from inside couldn't be muffled.

Seven or eight people lounged across the L-shaped sofa, their seats deliberately arranged to crowd around the man at the center.

In the dim light, half of the man in the floral shirt's face was hidden in shadow, revealing only a dazzling cuff and an expensive watch draped over his wrist.

The blaring music only annoyed Su Zeye further. He slammed his glass onto the table in irritation.

Someone, keen on reading the room, said, "Young Master Ye, no trouble is too big for a woman to solve. If one won't do, then two..."

Su Zeye's eyes, the ones that most resembled Su Yuling's, slightly upturned in a peach-blossom shape, carried a detached, cold indifference.

His glance made the speaker's spine tingle with fear.

Everyone knew Su Zeye's reputation, and they'd also heard about his two biggest troubles lately.

Talk among their kind always boiled down to Su Zeye being forced to marry that crazy young miss from the Shen family.

A notorious playboy, forced into marriage at gunpoint, would surely be displeased, no matter who he was.

The man let out an awkward chuckle, "Young Master Ye, the club has had a few casualties recently, so there's a bunch of new faces. Sure you don't want to try one?"

Su Zeye showed no interest whatsoever—how could those painted, cheap women at the club compare to the ones in his own base?

But no, it was all Shen Qiancheng's fault. She'd taken over his base and forced him to marry that lunatic, making him 'settle down.'

Who did Shen Qiancheng think she was, demanding he settle down? What a joke.

As for Shen Qiancheng's looks, Su Zeye thought she wasn't nearly as pretty as the tabloids claimed—more like a sharp-toothed demon.

Even the thought of having dinner with her was absurd. Though Su Yuling threatened his base, Su Zeye ignored it, turning on his heel and bringing his crew to the club instead.

Seething, Su Zeye waved his hand dismissively: "If you want to play, order for yourselves. Put it on my tab."

Cheers erupted in waves: "Young Master Ye is generous!"

A smirk tugged at Su Zeye's lips as he glanced at the girls filing in—nothing special indeed.

Each man had his own arm candy, while Su Zeye ordered six more bottles, planning to drink himself into oblivion.

As the drinks arrived, Su Zeye lifted his head, and his gaze caught a swan-like neck, pale as ivory, with blue-purple veins pulsing beneath the skin with each breath.

Su Zeye raised an eyebrow, a curl of a smile on his lips.

Her delicate, porcelain face featured a pair of large, dewy, round eyes like a fawn's, set like amber gems, a nose so small it seemed nearly translucent, and lips the color of dried roses.

For a moment, Su Zeye couldn't tear his eyes away.

All the girls at his base combined couldn't hold a candle to this fragile white flower swaying in the storm—broken, delicate, and beautiful.

Su Zeye's reverie was broken by a whistle. Someone holding a girl pulled his fingers to his lips and called out teasingly, "Little sister, how old are you?"

Su Zeye remained impassive. In his circle, many men sought out such innocent girls—with gambling fathers, alcoholic mothers, or school debts—to stage their own white-knight rescues.

He'd always scorned the practice, but the moment he laid eyes on Liao Xue, Su Zeye felt the urge to play that grand drama himself.

"What's all this noise?" Su Zeye played the upright gentleman, surrounded by women in revealing clothes, exuding the aura of a man of virtue, unmoved by temptation, sober amidst a drunken world.

And with his face, which inherited much of Su Yuling's gentleness and kindness, the words seemed perfectly in character.

Liao Xue, the moment she entered, was assaulted by the smoky, alcoholic, and perfumed miasma of the room, fermenting into a bizarre stench that turned her stomach. Her face went paper-white.

Someone started egging him on, but Liao Xue pretended not to hear. Such scenes were common in clubs.

Su Zeye's white-knight act didn't earn the damsel's favor, and his expression tightened. He ground his molars against his cheek.

"Here are your six bottles of wine," Liao Xue said, eager to leave, setting them down hastily.

Su Zeye would never let such a tasty morsel slip away. He reached out and grabbed her wrist.

He raised an eyebrow: Why was her wrist so thin?

Startled like a rabbit spotting a mouse, Liao Xue instinctively tried to pull away: "Sir... please keep your hands to yourself."

As she tried to pull free, Su Zeye instead gripped her hand, their palms meeting.

With a sly grin, Su Zeye slid his fingers between hers, forcing an interlace.

"Young Master Ye likes that type! No wonder he looks down on what we've got!"

"You should've said so earlier, boss; the university district is full of these..."

"Young Master Ye finding you attractive is your lucky break. Don't tell me you dressed like a waitress just to..."

The words grew more crass. Su Zeye's fingertips even traced circles in her palm.

Liao Xue trembled, unable to break free from his grip.

"What do you think you're doing?" Liao Xue steadied herself, meeting Su Zeye's triumphant gaze. "I'm a server here. I don't provide those services."

Su Zeye thought: A white flower with fangs—even better.

Amused, Su Zeye tapped the table, magnanimously declaring, "There are the six bottles you brought. Drink every last drop, and I'll let you go. How's that?"

Liao Xue's heart was in her throat. The manager had warned that, given the high secrecy of the club, the clientele were the kind whose every public misstep would make headline news.

Messing with even one could mean her death, and she wouldn't know how, as the manager had put it.

Su Zeye released her hand, and someone got up to lock the door.

Liao Xue rarely drank, let alone downing six bottles at once.

"If I drink it all, you'll let me leave?" Liao Xue asked.

Spreading his hands, Su Zeye gestured to the bottles with a laugh: "Every last drop."

Liao Xue took a deep breath, picked up the bottle opener, and fumbled to open the first bottle, the pretty fizz spilling down the side.

Someone chimed in, "Boss, six bottles is a bit light. See, our boss does know how to pamper the ladies."

With a shiver, Liao Xue tilted her head back and chugged a whole bottle.

Su Zeye's hand rested on his thigh as he watched her guzzle with relish.

Six bottles, and he'd bet his last dollar she couldn't walk a straight line sober.

Bottle after bottle went down, Liao Xue felt pickled in alcohol, every inch of her drenched in the stuff.

As the last bottle hit empty, Su Zeye leaned forward from his reclined position, ready to collect his prize.

The prize—Liao Xue, just as she set down the bottle, felt a wave of nausea. Remembering the expensive Italian handmade carpet in the room, she scrambled to the bathroom.

Su Zeye froze, a bit awkward, then leaned back and raised his glass: "Put tonight's tab on me."

The others were sharp enough to catch his dismissal, and quickly lined up to say their goodbyes and leave.

The toilet flushed, and Su Zeye flipped the lock on the door, settling back onto the leather sofa to wait for his after-drinks dessert.

Liao Xue splashed water on her face. The face in the mirror showed no hint of flush; her eyes were clear as glass beads.

The motion-sensor faucet stopped, and Liao Xue straightened her collar.

The club was too messy. If she had customers forcing her to down six bottles every day, her body wouldn't hold up. Liao Xue decided she'd quit after today.

She opened the door, and the whole private room now held only Su Zeye, who sat impeccably dressed at the center of the sofa.

Liao Xue's heart skipped a beat; something felt off.

Her legs trembling slightly, she bowed: "I'll take my leave now."

With one leg propped on the coffee table, his shirt unbuttoned, Su Zeye looked like a bandit: "You drained six bottles of my liquor, and you think you can walk out without paying a cent?"

Liao Xue's heart plummeted to the floor.

#

At room 609, Shen Qiancheng pushed open the door, and everyone inside looked up at her.

"Here comes CEO Shen!"

"Finally, CEO Shen arrives!"

The cash cow had arrived.

Shen Qiancheng smiled, took a seat amid the crowd, and casually produced a card: "Spend whatever you like."

"CEO Shen is generous!"

As the card was whisked away for drinks, Sui Shi approached with a glass, clinking it against Shen Qiancheng's empty one with a smile: "CEO Shen, three years apart, and you've grown even more beautiful."

Shen Qiancheng poured herself a drink, took a sip—it was strong, high-proof.

"Three years apart, and your tongue's gotten sweeter talking."

Sui Shi leaned in closer, "Welcome back to the country, CEO Shen."

Shen Qiancheng gave a soft laugh, radiant enough to dim the room's lights: "Three years of leave is long enough. Coming back, I naturally have to make an entrance—that's my style."

Sui Shi downed her glass, then waved in a group of male models.

A row of men, all over 1.85 meters, with slicked-back hair and painted faces, each wearing colorful suits and sporting equally wild hairstyles, filed in.

Shen Qiancheng felt an inexplicable irritation, not bothering to glance at them, downing one glass after another until a bottle hit empty.

Unsteadily, she rose, surveying the room like a queen, then frowned, "Is this all the club has to offer? Have fun, I'm stepping out for some air. My head's splitting."

Sui Shi made to follow, but Shen Qiancheng frowned: "Enjoy yourself. Don't tag along."

Sui Shi had only had a drink, her head clear enough to recite pi to a thousand digits, but she couldn't quite parse what Shen Qiancheng meant.

There was a balcony in the private room, perfect for getting air, with an ocean view, and wouldn't less air be better if she had a headache?

#

The atmosphere in the private room was thick with tension like silent smoke. Su Zeye propped his leg, tapping his handmade leather shoe against the table, tapping out an impatient rhythm. He had all the time in the world, and he was set on breaking Liao Xue.

Liao Xue lifted her eyes, bright and piercing. Facing Su Zeye's deliberate provocation, she retorted without fear or subservience, "You made me drink it, and I'll pay you back, every cent!"

Su Zeye waited for the alcohol to hit her, sneering as if he'd heard the joke of the century: "Pay back? With what? The pittance you earn as a server here? Or how about paying off with your body? A thousand a night—how's that?"

Women would beg on their knees for a chance to grab his attention, and Liao Xue refusing was simply ungrateful.

Liao Xue bit her lower lip. She'd faced a similar situation when she first came to Tang City, but that man wasn't a big shot like Su Zeye, just a regular person she could handle... But now?

Should she take it to the manager? Even so, the manager would only side with the customer and fire her.

But getting fired meant escaping.

What to do? What to do? What to do?

Liao Xue nervously picked at the folds of her pants. Growing impatient, Su Zeye grabbed her and yanked her forward.

Startled, Liao Xue toppled into his lap.

Su Zeye caught a breath of fresh, grassy scent.

He smirked triumphantly, "Are you coming willingly, or do I have to take it? If you come willingly, we'll talk nicely. If I have to take it, you might not walk out of here alive."

Bang—

A flash of white light caught Liao Xue's eye, and Su Zeye behind her was hurled into the table's edge.

With a crash, the bottles and glasses scattered, thudding down onto the carpet.

Then came a sharp crack of shattered glass. Liao Xue whirled around to find Su Zeye on the floor, covered in shards, a gushing wound on his head.

And in the intruder's hand—the neck of a broken bottle.

Liao Xue's pupils contracted, a scream escaping her throat: "Shen Qiancheng!"

Shen Qiancheng had killed someone. Shen Qiancheng had killed someone for her.