Gold-Devouring Bottom: A Guide to Pampering - Chapter 24

It wasn’t just Ye Xiuchen watching him. There were the servants bringing dishes from the kitchen, the maid setting the table, and the experienced bystander, Uncle Ming.

“Ah, I see.” Uncle Ming immediately whisked away the ottoman and hurried out of the dining room.

Shen Xinghuai was left baffled. He turned to Ye Xiuchen. “What does Uncle Ming ‘see’ exactly?”

Ye Xiuchen stirred his coffee with leisurely, indifferent strokes. “He sees that your waist is sore.”

Shen Xinghuai: “?”

Shen Xinghuai was even more perplexed. “Didn’t I tell him that myself?”

Ye Xiuchen took a sip from his cup. “He’s letting his imagination run wild.”

“Can we not speak in riddles so early in the morning?” What was there to imagine about a sore waist? Shen Xinghuai didn’t think his words were inappropriate, yet he couldn’t fathom why everyone was looking at him with that expression.

It wasn’t just him; they were also stealing glances at Ye Xiuchen.

A look at him, a look at Ye Xiuchen. Back and forth. Somehow, the air had grown thick with an uncomfortably suggestive atmosphere.

But why were they forcing this narrative?

Were he and Ye Xiuchen some kind of sweet, passionate couple? It was just breakfast; why all the heavy-handed ambiguity?

While he was mulling it over, Uncle Ming came jogging back clutching two soft cushions. “Mr. Shen, let me fix these for you.”

Now, this was the Uncle Ming he knew—considerate and helpful. His back really did ache, and he had been craving something soft to lean against.

Uncle Ming arranged the cushions: one for his back, one for the seat.

Shen Xinghuai waved a hand dismissively. “Just the one for my back is fine. My waist is sore, but my backside doesn’t hurt.”

Uncle Ming offered an awkward but polite smile. “It doesn’t? Well, best to sit on it anyway.” He then turned to the maid. “Make sure Mr. Shen’s meals are light today.”

Shen Xinghuai watched in horror as his favorite spicy sautéed black gold abalone was whisked away, replaced by a plate of bland stir-fried bamboo shoots. He protested loudly: “I want that one!”

Uncle Ming spoke with the tone of a worried parent. “Mr. Shen, you can’t have spicy food. At least not today.”

“Why?”

Uncle Ming choked for a second. “Uhm, because.”

Ye Xiuchen, seemingly exhausted by the spectacle, set down his chopsticks. “Uncle Ming, you’re overthinking it.”

Uncle Ming paused to consider this. “In that case bring it back.”

Shen Xinghuai stared at Uncle Ming for a long time until, suddenly, a lightbulb went off. His eyes widened.

Uncle Ming thought his sore waist was the result of him and Ye Xiuchen doing this and that all night long?

Thinking back, the looks from the rest of the household suddenly made sense. What a terrible, unfunny morning joke!

These people clearly didn’t understand their Young Master. He was a literal “intimacy-free zone.”

They were too crude. Ye Xiuchen had zero desire in that department. This was a man who would practically jump out of his skin if you teased him with a kiss—how could he possibly do something that would leave a person too sore to get out of bed?

The misunderstanding made the spicy abalone lose its flavor. He chewed listlessly for a few bites before pushing the bowl away. “I’m full.”

Ye Xiuchen set his chopsticks down at the same moment. Seeing that the Young Master looked remarkably refreshed today, Uncle Ming stepped forward. “Young Master, Assistant Kong called. He said CEO Lu of the Lu Group was discharged today. He’s asking if he should deliver the gift on your behalf, or if you’ll be visiting in person?”

Ye Xiuchen checked his watch. It was still early. “Have the driver ready. We’ll go to Han Yurong’s first, then we’ll pay Lu Yan a visit.”

Shen Xinghuai listened quietly, making his own calculations. Since Lu Yan was out of the hospital, it was time for him to get to work, too.

His meeting with Nan Yang had been delayed by his injury, so they had only been in contact via phone. He had asked Nan Yang to help him get a quote from the owner of his talent agency.

Likely because Lu Yan had still been hospitalized and the contract termination fees weren’t ready, the owner had been dragging his feet, hoping for a miracle. Now that Lu Yan was out, his first order of business would be to settle scores with the agency. The owner would surely panic and provide a price soon.

After Ye Xiuchen left, Shen Xinghuai lay on a rocking chair in the small garden, soaking up the sun while playing games.

Around noon, Nan Yang called. “Xinghuai, how is your injury?”

Shen Xinghuai shifted his leg. As long as he didn’t make any sudden movements, it didn’t hurt. “Much better. I’ve been discharged.”

Nan Yang still felt guilty. He felt that if he hadn’t asked to meet at the school, the accident wouldn’t have happened. “When you’re free to meet, let me come see you.”

Nan Yang had wanted to visit while he was hospitalized, but Shen Xinghuai had refused. Since Ye Xiuchen had scrubbed any record of the hospitalization, Nan Yang hadn’t been able to track him down.

Shen Xinghuai glanced toward the main gate. “In a few days. We’ll find a place to meet.”

Nan Yang hesitated for a second. “Okay. By the way, the owners of that talent agency and the clubhouse you were looking at contacted me. They’ve given their quotes.”

Everything was going according to plan. “Thanks for letting me know! How much are they asking?”

“The agency quote is reasonable: 5 million. The clubhouse is higher. The owner doesn’t just want to transfer the business; he wants to sell the entire property title. He’s asking for 78 million.”

Shen Xinghuai, a minor genius at mental math, did the sum: $78 + 5 = 83$ million. What a bargain.

He pulled out the card Ye Xiuchen had forced on him a few days ago. “Deal.”

There was a silence on the other end. “You can bargain, you know.”

It didn’t even exceed a hundred million; bargaining was too much of a hassle. “Let’s just go with their price. But don’t let them know I’m the buyer yet. When can we sign?”

Since Shen Xinghuai had no interest in haggling, Nan Yang didn’t press it. “We can sign as soon as the deposit is paid. My father can handle the title transfer and the paperwork.”

“Let’s just do the full payment. I’ll transfer the money to you in a bit.”

“Okay.” Nan Yang had the fleeting sensation that they weren’t negotiating business acquisitions, but buying cabbages at a market. “One more thing. Several businesses under the eldest Han son’s name are being put up for sale. The prices are low—extremely low—but he requires full payment upfront. If you’re looking for an investment and have the budget, you might want to look into it.”

The eldest Han son? Shen Xinghuai immediately thought of someone. “Han Xu?”

“Yes. Five chain bars, two hotels, including the property titles. The listing just went up yesterday. My father hasn’t made it public yet; only a few people know.”

This was practically every asset under Han Xu’s name. To be forced to sell everything at a discount outside of the “Mad Dog,” there was likely no one else capable of such pressure.

Shen Xinghuai thought for a moment. “How many digits?”

“High nine figures. Not quite ten. People are speculating if the Han family is in trouble; the property value alone is worth more than that. If it weren’t for the ‘full payment’ barrier, people would be tearing each other apart for it.”

“Hold it for me. I’ll transfer that money together with the rest.”

Ye Xiuchen emerged from Han Yurong’s office and headed straight for the car.

He hadn’t driven far when his secretary called. “President Ye, President Fu from Yuanyang Group is here. He wants to discuss the new product development collaboration. He’s willing to consider the terms we set.”

Ye Xiuchen checked the time. Lu Yan should be out of the hospital by now. He was on his way to deliver a “gift” to Lu Yan—one big enough to send him right back to a hospital bed for another few days. He wasn’t in the mood for new projects. “Tell Fu Yi to wait, or you handle the negotiations.”

To him, business was nowhere near as important as causing trouble. Making money was useless; he couldn’t spend it all anyway.

The secretary was terrified. A multi-billion-dollar project, and the boss wanted him to negotiate? Did President Ye think too highly of him? He was just a secretary! “President Ye, I’ll tell President Fu to wait, but.” He paused, throwing caution to the wind. “You, you really should come back quickly!” I can’t do this!

In response to the secretary’s despair, Ye Xiuchen heartlessly hung up.

Ding!

Ding-ding!

Ding-ding-ding!

Three consecutive transaction notifications popped up.

Ye Xiuchen glanced at them. It was the card he had given Shen Xinghuai.

His leg was still injured; how was he spending money? Did he go out in his wheelchair?

Ye Xiuchen was curious about what could be so important that the boy would head out in a wheelchair to buy it. He tapped the messages.

[Linshang Bank] Your card ending in 3387 had a transfer of 5,000,000.00 on June 9 at 11:00.

He tapped the next one. Balance -78,000,000.00.

And the next. Balance -980,000,000.00.

Ye Xiuchen stared at the string of zeros for a long, silent moment.

He felt a slight dizziness, but he refused to admit it was the aftershock of seeing those transaction alerts. Instead, he blamed it on the driver. “Slow down.”

The rearview mirror reflected Old Zhang’s bewildered expression. “Young Master, we’re stopped at a red light.”

Ye Xiuchen pinched the bridge of his nose. For the first time in his twenty-eight years of life, he felt the weight of financial pressure.

Exhaling sharply, he dialed Assistant Kong, instructing him to meet Lu Yan in his stead and deliver the “gift” as planned.

The assistant was confused by the sudden change of heart; after all, his boss usually lived for the thrill of seeing his rivals lose their cool. “Young Master, are you?” He had no way of knowing that his own boss was the one currently losing his cool.

“One more thing,” Ye Xiuchen added. “Check the records for my card ending in 3387. See who received the transfers.”

“Young Master, was your card stolen?”

“No. Just find out who the recipient is. Don’t take any other action.”

Ye Xiuchen hung up and immediately redirected the driver. “Turn around and head back to the office. We have business to discuss.” His mindset had undergone a qualitative shift the moment he saw those notifications: making money was suddenly just as important as making trouble.

Apparently, money could actually run out.

Having completed the transfers, Shen Xinghuai found himself with nothing to do. He grew tired of games and, unable to leave the house, decided it was time for a nap after lunch. To prevent himself from sleeping until nightfall, he set an alarm for 5:00 PM.

He still overslept. He didn’t wake up until Uncle Ming came upstairs to call him for dinner.

Sitting at the dining table, he looked at the empty chair across from him. “Is Brother not coming back for dinner tonight?”

Uncle Ming was used to Ye Xiuchen staying away, and since the chefs were on a rotating shift, they could prepare a meal whenever he returned. Still, since Shen Xinghuai asked, he figured it was best to check. “I’ll contact the Young Master’s assistant and ask.”

Shen Xinghuai already had his phone out. “I’ll do it.”

The phone rang for a long time before it was picked up. The background was quiet. “Hello?”

“Brother, are you coming home for dinner tonight?”

“I have a meeting.”

Shen Xinghuai gave a soft, “Oh. Will you come back after your social engagements are over?”

Ye Xiuchen checked the time, estimating it would be very late. “I’m coming back, but it’ll be late.”

“Then I’ll wait for you.” Since he had just woken up from a nap, he was full of energy.

“Don’t wait. It won’t wrap up until late.”

Ye Xiuchen did indeed return very late. Shen Xinghuai had managed to climb two ranks in his game, and it was past midnight, yet there was still no sign of him. Eventually, he couldn’t hold out any longer; clutching his phone, he drifted off to sleep in the small lounge on the third floor.

At 2:00 AM, the gates of Yujun Garden opened. A car rolled slowly into the courtyard, and a weary Ye Xiuchen stepped out.

Some people mature after a single life lesson; in Ye Xiuchen’s case, it was a few text alerts. It had been a long time since he had dedicated himself to serious work until such an hour.

Uncle Ming—ever-present regardless of the time or weather—was waiting at the door. “Young Master, you’re back.”

Even Ye Xiuchen’s habitual movement of tossing off his coat lacked its usual flair today. He looked incredibly steady, mostly because he was too exhausted to even lift his arms. He glanced upstairs. “Is he asleep?”

Uncle Ming draped the coat over his arm and offered a glass of water. “Mr. Shen has been waiting for you on the third floor.”

Ye Xiuchen waved the water away. “I’m going up. No need to follow me.”