After the Beautiful Young Master's Arranged Marriage, He Was Targeted by His Ex-Boyfriend - Chapter 4

With those words, the atmosphere became somewhat subtle.

Chi Chen was showing them through his actions that Feng Mian was not his fiancée, that he had never thought highly of him, and that, fundamentally, he was nothing more than a plaything.

Feng Mian pressed his lips together, looking back at Chi Chen with resistance as he whispered, “I don’t… I can’t…”

Before he could finish, Chi Chen interrupted him, “If you don’t kneel, then get lost back to the Feng family. You came here on your own accord to curry favor; what airs are you putting on in front of me?”

With Chi Chen leading the way in bullying him, the others acted as if they had found a new, novel toy, echoing his sentiments and hooting along.

“If he tells you to kneel, then kneel. Stop stalling.”

“If you hadn’t latched onto A-Chen, how would people from a low-level household like yours ever have the qualifications to meet Little Uncle in your lifetime?”

Feng Mian’s lips moved. He looked up at Chi Mingzhou, who was within arm’s reach, and was just about to open his mouth to try and plead for mercy when he saw Chi Mingzhou’s lips part slightly. His tone was cold and laced with impatience.

“If you aren’t willing, then get out. Don’t just stand there like a fool; it’s quite a mood-killer.”

As soon as Chi Mingzhou spoke, Chi Chen became somewhat anxious. Without warning, he raised his foot and kicked the back of Feng Mian’s knees. Feng Mian let out a muffled groan of pain; his knees instantly lost all sensation, and he collapsed straight to the floor.

The room fell silent.

Chi Mingzhou reached out to grasp the wine bottle on the table and poured the liquid into another glass. The wine swirled in the cup, its aroma spicy and bitter wafting to the tip of everyone’s nose.

A full glass of potent liquor was pushed directly in front of Feng Mian.

Chi Mingzhou watched Feng Mian’s pale complexion and pointed at the wine glass on the table. “Didn’t you want to toast me?”

As the glass drew near, the pungent smell of alcohol rushed straight into his nasal cavity.

Chi Chen and several of his friends exchanged glances; though they said nothing, the look in their eyes was understood by all.

Such a large glass of strong liquor—to say nothing of Feng Mian, even if any of them, who were used to social drinking, were to down it, they would likely black out instantly.

Little Uncle was intentionally targeting Feng Mian!

Why would a Feng Mian who held no real power be worthy of Little Uncle taking action against him? Everyone realized it in an instant: he was using Feng Mian to give them a warning!

Once this thought crossed their minds, those who had been boisterous and eager to catch Chi Mingzhou’s attention immediately shrank their necks and went quiet, playing dumb.

The chill in Chi Mingzhou’s eyes was bone-piercing. Feng Mian hesitated for a moment, then reached for the wine glass on the table. Under Chi Mingzhou’s gaze, he took a fierce gulp. The potent alcohol slid down his throat, and as everyone expected, Feng Mian choked after a few sips, collapsing onto the floor in a fit of violent coughing, his body trembling.

Chi Mingzhou lowered his eyes to look at him, reached out to take the remaining half-glass of wine from the table, and with a flick of his wrist, poured it slowly over Feng Mian’s head. He muttered gloomily, “How boring.”

Feng Mian closed his eyes, letting the alcohol slide down his face, making his already haggard appearance look even more disheveled.

Chi Mingzhou placed the empty glass back onto the coffee table. The base of the glass tapped against the marble surface, producing a crisp, striking sound that jolted everyone back to their senses.

Chi Mingzhou’s expression was indifferent, as if nothing had happened at all.

He crossed his hands and leaned back comfortably, his amber eyes sweeping over Chi Chen as he asked languidly, “What are the plans for later?”

Chi Chen glanced at Feng Mian, who was kneeling to the side.

The wine was sliding down Feng Mian’s face, soaking the collar of his shirt. His slightly long, messy hair covered the skin behind his ears, where strange marks were faintly visible.

Chi Chen narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the purplish-bruised patch.

Why did it feel… so much like a hickey…