The Sickly Beauty is Too Good at Seducing - Chapter 3

The man remained silent. The oppressive atmosphere was so thick it made Shen Congbai’s breath hitch. Beside him, Tu Zhizhi braced himself and stepped in to smooth things over. “Young Master Feng, Xiao Bai just got off the plane. Why don’t we let him sit down first? We can talk slowly.”

Feng Yu’s gaze was searing, sweeping over Shen Congbai from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes, before finally settling on his bare arms, which were covered in goosebumps from the air conditioning.

Someone inside the room asked curiously, “Young Master Feng, what’s going on?”

Shen Congbai trembled slightly, unable to bear the weight of that stare. A moment later, a jacket several sizes too large was draped over his head. Feng Yu’s raspy voice sounded in his ear: “It’s nothing. Keep drinking.”

He pulled the jacket off his head and stood there, pursing his lips. His plump lip-peak was pressed flat, and under the dim amber lights, the expression made him look helpless and lost.

“Thank you.”

Feng Yu stepped aside to make a path, his gaze shifting to Tu Zhizhi behind them. His voice was low, carrying a beast-like rasp that made it unclear who exactly he was addressing: “Come in.”

Holding the jacket in his arms, Shen Congbai slowly appeared before the crowd in the lounge. He was tall and slender, his frame fragile. He still wore that pitiably lost expression, his eyes rimmed with a watery, vivid red.

Standing next to Feng Yu, who was a full head taller and radiating an aggressive aura, the contrast was stark. Feng Yu’s brows were knit as his eyes fixed on the jacket in the youth’s hands; his expression was so impatient it looked as if he might drag the youth back to his den at any moment to devour him.

The group stopped talking. A bizarre tension filled the room. Tu Zhizhi walked over to Shen Congbai’s side and smiled. “Why is everyone so quiet? Xiao Bai has finally returned home; let’s have a good reunion.”

Feng Yu sat back in his seat and let out a sneer. “You certainly are kind-hearted.”

Tu Zhizhi maintained his good-tempered smile and led Shen Congbai to a seat. However, the seating arrangement was awkward, Shen Congbai was placed directly opposite Feng Yu. One looks up, and their eyes would meet.

Shen Congbai clutched the clothes in his hands. Uncertain of Feng Yu’s intentions, he stuffed the jacket behind him and sat quietly, head bowed like an ostrich.

Feng Yu’s expression grew even colder. As everyone in the room peeked at the two of them, Feng Yu let out an annoyed “Tsk.”

“What’s there to look at? Mind your own business.”

“Haha!” Zhang Wen, who was sitting next to him, immediately resumed his movements. “Right, right! Let’s keep playing, keep playing!” He looked at Tu Zhizhi. “Tu Zhizhi, do you and, want to join?”

Shen Congbai’s face flushed with embarrassment. His eyes were moist, and just as he was about to refuse, Feng Yu threw his cards onto the table with a sharp thwack.

“Clack!”

Shen Congbai looked up instinctively, meeting Feng Yu’s hostile face. He heard the man speak: “Come on. We’re celebrating the Young Master’s return. How could he not join?”

Tu Zhizhi frowned and pulled Shen Congbai behind him. “Xiao Bai is tired from the flight. Let him eat and rest first; I’ll play in his place.”

Zhang Wen held the cards, looking back and forth between the two sides. “This…”

“Heh.” Feng Yu reached out slowly, his thick, long fingers spinning a wine bottle on the table, creating a harsh grinding sound. “Is the Little Young Master not weaned yet? Does he need to hold the bottle with both hands to drink his milk?”

Tu Zhizhi snapped, “You!”

“Zhizhi.” Shen Congbai stopped him and managed a smile toward Feng Yu. “It sounds fun. I’ll try.”

Feng Yu leaned back against the sofa, tilting his head back slightly like an arrogant lion. “Deal the cards to the Young Master.”

He showed his teeth, adding maliciously, “Zhang Wen, remember to buy a crate of milk for him to suck on. We can’t have the Young Master go hungry.”

Zhang Wen wiped his sweat. Today is cursed, he thought. I shouldn’t have come.

The game wasn’t complicated, a hybrid of “High-Low” and Truth or Dare. Whoever had the highest card would spin the bottle. The owner of the big card would assign a task to whoever the bottle pointed to. If they couldn’t complete it, they had to drink three glasses of red wine as a penalty.

Shen Congbai held a carton of milk, looking fearfully at the glasses on the table. This was the strongest drink in the bar a “Bloody Mary.” It was a deep, crimson red, nearly identical to the color of fresh blood, and a favorite among the elite who frequented the place.

He took a sip of milk, silently praying to be left alone as a “transparent” bystander.

The dealer’s turn fell to Zhang Wen. He clutched his cards, praying comically like a monk, until Feng Yu kicked him in annoyance. He sheepishly revealed his hand.

Nine of Hearts.

A round of gasps went up. A Nine of Hearts was usually a winning hand.

Shen Congbai breathed a sigh of relief. As long as Feng Yu wasn’t the “Master,” it was fine. Otherwise, if the bottle pointed at him, there was no telling how the man would torment him.

Beside him, Tu Zhizhi nudged him, whispering, “It’s your turn to reveal.”

Shen Congbai snapped out of it and gave everyone an apologetic smile. Opposite him, Feng Yu mocked, “What is the Young Master thinking about so deeply?”

He blinked, feeling a bit embarrassed, and replied honestly, “Thinking about you.”

The expression on Feng Yu’s face froze instantly. The tips of his ears, hidden by his hair, turned a faint red as he uncomfortably shifted his gaze. The others in the room looked at the pair, their eyes full of mutual exasperation.

Shen Congbai, unaware of the effect he’d had, picked up his card with slender fingers and slowly flipped it over.

Ten of Spades.

“Ah!” Zhang Wen’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He clutched his head and wailed in despair, “How is it still not me?!”

He hadn’t been the Master once tonight!

Shen Congbai coughed lightly, a hint of relief in his eyes. “Sorry about that.”

He gripped the bottle and gave it a spin, waiting with anticipation for it to slow down. As the bottle neck neared Zhang Wen, it slowed further, crept past, and then stopped dead.

Everyone in the room looked up to see where the bottle was pointing. Feng Yu was stunned. He met Shen Congbai’s eyes directly and suddenly let out a short laugh. “Shen Congbai, did you do that on purpose?”

Shen Congbai shook the empty milk carton at him, blinking innocently. “The loser pays the price.” He turned to Zhang Wen. “Can I assign a task to Feng Y—Young Master Feng now?”

Zhang Wen sat up straight. “That is the process, but…”

He was truly afraid this Young Master would point at Feng Yu’s nose and insult him like he did years ago. The current Feng Yu was not so easy-going; Zhang Wen was terrified there might be a murder in his venue!

Feng Yu suddenly stood up and walked toward Shen Congbai. He held a card between two fingers, his upper body leaning over the youth’s side, reaching forward.

Shen Congbai held his breath. Turning his head slightly, he could see half of Feng Yu’s sharp, handsome face. While he was dazed, Feng Yu tilted his head and flashed a feral grin.

His thin lips parted, his voice low and magnetic with a lingering drawl that made Shen Congbai’s ears tingle: “Little Young Master, are you that impatient to do me?”

They were so close their breaths intermingled. Their lips were only centimeters apart. The way Feng Yu used the word “do” made one question the underlying meaning.

Shen Congbai dodged to the side. Noticing the teasing looks from the others and realizing how ambiguous the posture was, he quickly denied it: “I’m not doing anything to you.”

Feng Yu ground his molars, straightened up, and revealed the card in his hand.

Ten of Hearts.

Shen Congbai immediately pulled his hand back from the bottle, blinking his eyes and shrinking into a small, easily-bullied ball.

Feng Yu: “Then that’s unfortunate.” He swept a glance over Shen Congbai and barked, “Zhang Wen, pour the wine. Fill it to the brim.”

Shen Congbai protested, “You haven’t even spun the bottle yet! Why do I have to drink?”

Feng Yu gave a sinister smile. “Because I’m doing you.”

Shen Congbai: “…”

He glared at the man secretly. Childish! Was a breakup really worth this much of a grudge?

By the time he turned back, Zhang Wen had already filled the glasses in front of him. The liquid was trembling, nearly overflowing.

He said indignantly, “Why do I have to drink so much? The glasses weren’t this full before!”

Feng Yu reached out and flicked the side of the glass. The vibration caused a bit of liquid to spill over. “There. Now it’s less. Drink.”

“How can Xiao Bai handle this much alcohol?” Tu Zhizhi spoke up, frustrated.

Feng Yu glanced at him, feigning a look of realization. He pulled out his phone, dialed an emergency number, and placed it in front of Shen Congbai. “I’ll pay the medical bills. I just want to see if the Young Master is brave enough to play.”

Shen Congbai gritted his teeth. Beside him, Tu Zhizhi whispered worriedly into his ear, “Xiao Bai, you can’t drink this. If you have to, I’ll take you and we’ll run right now.”

A normal person couldn’t handle three glasses of this, let alone a sickly person like Shen Congbai.

To his surprise, Shen Congbai shook his head, his eyes determined. “I’ll drink.”

He was someone who had died once already; how much worse could it get? These three glasses were clearly Feng Yu’s way of venting his revenge. Humiliating the man in front of everyone after the breakup was indeed his fault. If three glasses of wine could offset it, he would take it as a way to lessen his past sins.

The next moment, he closed his eyes as if facing an execution and downed the liquid in one go.

Feng Yu’s hand, resting on the back of the sofa, suddenly clenched into a fist. He stared intently at Shen Congbai’s face. Is he really that desperate to cut ties with me? He’ll agree to anything.

But the expected burn never hit Shen Congbai’s throat. The liquid was sweet and tart—it was actually plum juice.

Shen Congbai opened one eye and met Zhang Wen’s gaze. The latter scratched his head, looking embarrassed, and was the first to look away.

Warmth bloomed in Shen Congbai’s heart. He finished all three glasses in one breath. He didn’t forget to wipe the juice from his lips. As he stood up, he staggered slightly and covered his mouth as if he were about to retch.

He held his head and pushed Tu Zhizhi away. “I’m going to the restroom.”

To keep up the act, Shen Congbai walked unsteadily, swaying toward the restroom to “sober up.”

Feng Yu’s eyes were dark. He gave a sharp look to the nonchalant Zhang Wen, then leaned down to grab the jacket Shen Congbai had stuffed into the sofa. Draping it over his arm, he said, “You guys play. I’m going out for a bit.”

After he left, the room instantly relaxed.

Zhang Wen collapsed onto the sofa, moaning, “I’m dead, I’m dead.”

But no one had time for him. Everyone was staring at the three empty glasses on the table, utterly shocked. “Was that really Shen Congbai?”

“Damn, his tolerance is better than mine?!”

Only Tu Zhizhi reached out to touch the rim of an empty glass. He brought his finger to his nose and sniffed, then looked at the wailing Zhang Wen in surprise. It wasn’t alcohol?

The moment Shen Congbai reached the door, his eyes cleared. He stood in place and stretched his limbs.

Before he could even pull his arms back, his wrist was caught in a brutal, calloused grip. The skin there instantly turned red and swollen. Feng Yu’s sinister voice whispered in his ear:

“Shen Congbai, you still dare to return.”