Chapter 54:
The Beginning
THE THICK CURTAINS in the private room were pulled tightly shut, barring any sunlight from streaming in.
Once Xie Qingcheng finally woke up, he had no idea how much time had passed.
He felt sore everywhere, disoriented and lost, and it was a long time before the terrifying memories from last night finally slammed into his mind like a crashing car.
He was speechless.
Last night, he had been…
Xie Qingcheng’s eyes were crimson. For a moment, he was sure he must have had a horrible nightmare caused by exhaustion. He even closed his eyes for a while before opening them again, weakly wishing to find himself in his dorm room at the medical school, or the old residence at Moyu Alley.
But he wasn’t.
No such miracle happened.
He was still in this private lounge room reeking of sex, lying completely nude and utterly bedraggled on the huge bed with half the sheets spilling onto the floor.
He Yu had already left.
With his bloodshot eyes open, Xie Qingcheng tried to force himself to stand, only for an agonizing stab of pain emanating from his lower body to bolt through him, causing him to collapse heavily back onto the bed.
At least He Yu had used a condom, even if nothing else he’d done was humane.
When Xie Qingcheng pushed himself slightly upright on the bed, he could see several used condoms strewn over the bedding. The sight of their contents turned even the tips of his fingers red with humiliation and fury.
True, he did feel remorse toward He Yu. He did feel that he’d been too heartless before, that he’d never treated He Yu as an equal.
Prior to this outrageous incident, he’d been thinking of trying to build a new relationship with He Yu—one that had nothing to do with that of a doctor and patient, one that was simply between He Yu and himself. He’d never considered forming a long-term bond with a youth before, but when He Yu had reached out to him without hesitation, Xie Qingcheng’s paternalistic heart had finally been moved.
In that moment, he’d realized that perhaps he might’ve really been in the wrong with the way he’d handled certain things. He Yu was just young; his emotions weren’t weaker than anyone else’s. Perhaps Xie Qingcheng shouldn’t have chosen to leave so brusquely back then.
He’d thought that, as long as He Yu forgave him, he was willing to keep He Yu company for a long while this time around—as long as He Yu needed it, as long as he was still capable.
But He Yu had committed this beastly, abominable act that went completely beyond the confines of Xie Qingcheng’s imagination.
Xie Qingcheng couldn’t accept it, even on pain of death.
A straight man had actually fucked another straight man.
And the condoms on the bed bore witness to how many times he’d done it.
But what was more terrifying was that by the end of the ordeal, Xie Qingcheng had completely lost control because of the drugged wine. He’d madly remained on all fours while getting fucked so hard he started dripping. He’d even climaxed repeatedly from being filled. Eventually, even though he had nothing left to release, his body still frantically sucked He Yu’s cock in, his legs sprawled apart as his hips swayed from the force of the thrusts.
Now sober, Xie Qingcheng felt so humiliated that he wanted to die, so disgusted that he wanted to throw up. He reached up and rested a hand over his eyes, hiding everything from his view. He spent a long time resisting the urge to lash out, but in the end, he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing the lamp from the bedside cabinet and smashing it to pieces.
He Yu had gotten so into it by the end that he’d snapped the restraints on Xie Qingcheng’s wrists. Even now, there were still red marks on Xie Qingcheng’s skin.
Thank god He Yu had left. If he were still here, Xie Qingcheng couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t do something beyond the bounds of rationality.
He Yu had almost driven him crazy.
Ding.
The phone that had been thrown onto the ground along with his clothes started ringing.
Xie Qingcheng was irate, and he had no intention of picking up. But the ringing persisted as if it wouldn’t stop until it had dug him out of this grave of sex. Xie Qingcheng swore furiously. He made himself grab his phone, his body aching as he reached over, and picked it up with difficulty.
It was Chen Man.
“Ge.”
“What is it?”
Chen Man started with shock. “Why does your voice sound so hoarse?”
Xie Qingcheng stayed silent for a moment. Then he sighed deeply. “If you have something to say, just say it. If you don’t, then I’m hanging up. I’m busy.”
Chen Man hastily replied, “Something’s happened at home…”
The events of last night had affected Xie Qingcheng deeply. His heart pounded as waves of weakness washed over his body. On hearing what Chen Man said, cold sweat beaded all over his back as his grip on the phone grew white-knuckled. “What happened?”
Half an hour later, Xie Qingcheng appeared in the main hall of the club in his wrinkled, wine-stained shirt.
When he first woke, he couldn’t even stand up. His legs buckled when he got off the bed and an unfamiliar yet terrifying throb of dull pain accompanied his every movement. Xie Qingcheng had grabbed the corner of the bedside drawer, the veins on the back of his hand protruding.
He was filled with extreme hatred and extreme shame.
Before he left the private room, he took an arduous shower in the bathroom. He always acted with swift decisiveness and never did things sloppily, but now, it took him a long time to put on even a single article of clothing. When he tried to put on his slacks, his face went white with pain.
He took a deep breath to gather himself, acting as though nothing wild and uncontrollable had happened, then strode out of the private room, pale as a sheet. He was practically gritting his teeth as he walked, expending a significant amount of his energy to straighten his back and maintain his usual posture.
But when the staff saw him, they were still shocked.
Xie Qingcheng’s skin was too pallid and as thin as paper. He looked like a ghost stepping into the dim light of dawn.
“Sir…do you…need any help?”
“No,” Xie Qingcheng replied.
“In that case, please settle last night’s bill, sir.”
Xie Qingcheng thought he’d gone deaf.
“Sir?”
“…”
Xie Qingcheng was accustomed to acting like a true man’s man, and being fucked for an entire night couldn’t change that. Even if he thought He Yu was much too shameless, he’d still foot the bill because that was what a man ought to do.
Thus, he responded with an ashen face, “All right. I’ll pay.”
“Sir, would you like to pay by card or…”
“By card.”
“Please come with me to the reception desk.”
The staff member tapped away at the computer and pulled up a bill.
Out of habit, Xie Qingcheng asked, “How much is it?”
The staff handed him the bill and very respectfully said, “The total for last night’s private room comes to 1.68 million yuan.”
Xie Qingcheng, who was in the middle of extracting his card, paused. All faculties of speech left him. He took the bill and glanced at it. The astronomical number written on it made him wonder if there might be something wrong with his eyes too.
It really was 1.68 million.
Sky-high alcohol fees, service fees, room fees, and compensation fees for damages.
Xie Qingcheng pressed a hand against his forehead. “I need to make a call. Do you have cigarettes? And a clean shirt.”
With the 1.68 million yuan bill before him, Xie Qingcheng had totally given up on caring about the price tag of these items—the cigarettes and shirt would be a drop in the bucket.
After he borrowed the bathroom and changed into the shirt that a hostess brought him, Xie Qingcheng leaned against the sink, tapped out a cigarette with trembling hands, and lit it with his lashes lowered. He took a long drag before dialing the number of the person he currently wanted to murder.