The Third Year After The Breakup, He Knelt and Begged to Get Back Together - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Come Back with Me, and Everything Will Be as It Was.

Fan Zhenjiang had mentioned a price.

One hundred thousand per month.

In the past, when he was in the entertainment industry, bosses and investors who liked to play this game would throw massive amounts of money and resources around. If someone said to a person with even the slightest bit of fame, “I’ll give you a hundred thousand to keep you,” they would surely be suspected of having something wrong with their head.

But what fame did he have left now?

One hundred thousand a month was already a high price for him. Moreover, excluding the mandatory accompaniment time, he could still work at the bar.

When the song finished, the screen switched to another MV—the kind intended to make the listener feel pleasant.

But Qi Mingfeng only felt noise, as if countless needles were stabbing his brain along with the rhythm.

Qi Mingfeng’s gaze slid from the hand on his thigh to his pant leg. The wine he had been splashed with earlier hadn’t dried yet, leaving a damp, dark patch. Looking at it for long enough made the surroundings start to turn black.

After a long while, he heard his own voice in a gap in the music: “Many thanks for your promotion, President Fan.”

Fan Zhenjiang immediately beamed with joy. “Good, good, good. Big Brother loves hearing you sing the most. Don’t worry, the villa is very private; you can make whatever noise you like.”

The other two laughed along.

“As expected of a former big star, your brain works well!”

“Exactly, our Brother Fan won’t treat you poorly.”

Negotiating this kind of matter in private was vastly different from doing it in front of others.

But he truly had no other way.

Qi Mingfeng suppressed the discomfort in his stomach and said, “President Fan, you also know I’m in urgent need of money right now. Do you think you could advance me some?”

“Then I’ll give you three months’ worth first,” Fan Zhenjiang said, pulling out a checkbook and picking up a pen to sign.

Now, the person who was happy changed to Qi Mingfeng.

However, just as he was about to take the check, Fan Zhenjiang pulled it back.

Qi Mingfeng was confused: “President Fan?”

Fan Zhenjiang gripped his hand in return. “Mingfeng, is Qi Huan awake yet? Tell him to come over and play for a while too.”

Qi Mingfeng felt like he had fallen into an ice cellar, his brain buzzing.

He forced a smile and said, “President Fan, Ah-Huan is still unconscious. Besides, once he recovers, he has to continue his studies.”

Fan Zhenjiang: “I’ll provide for him.”

Qi Mingfeng: “He’s a relatively self-reliant child. President Fan, if you have any requirements, on my end, I can…”

Fan Zhenjiang tucked the check back into his breast pocket.

Qi Mingfeng had suffered too much hardship and too many cold shoulders over the past two years, but he could handle anything—Qi Huan could not.

He apologized to Fan Zhenjiang and rose to leave. The one sitting closest to the exit among the other two men immediately came over to grab him, saying with frustration, “You kid, why is your head so stubborn?”

The man poured the wine Qi Mingfeng had brought into a glass, handed it to him, and gave him a look.

Qi Mingfeng was a singer; to protect his voice, he had rarely drunk alcohol in the past. The Little Boss knew his situation and never made him drink with guests.

But now, he had to drink.

He bowed low toward the seated Fan Zhenjiang, adopting a humble posture: “President Fan, I admire you and truly want to be with you. But Qi Huan is my biological brother. He even has a girlfriend; the two of them plan to get married after he recovers.”

Having said that, he raised the glass and drained it in one gulp.

Fan Zhenjiang’s expression remained sour. He dismissively swirled the bottle of wine. “Is this all the sincerity you have?”

Qi Mingfeng took the hint: “I’ll go tell someone to bring a few more bottles right away.”

He called his colleague, and the wine was delivered quickly, covering half the table as per Fan Zhenjiang’s request.

The bottles were colorful and varied; Qi Mingfeng felt dizzy just looking at them.

He steeled himself, opened a bottle, and began pouring. He had only poured a small half-glass when Fan Zhenjiang’s friend leaned over and snatched the bottle: “Hey, Little Qi, it’s obvious you don’t drink often. This isn’t how you drink.”

With that, he opened a bottle of white spirits and mixed it into the glass.

Qi Mingfeng’s face was whiter than the wine. He gritted his teeth and took two sips, which sent him into a fit of coughing.

Seeing this, the three men in the booth laughed loudly. The other man also mixed a drink and came up to pour it directly into Qi Mingfeng’s mouth.

Within a few minutes, Qi Mingfeng could no longer hold himself up. In his stupor, he felt a hand rubbing back and forth against his waist, and he couldn’t distinguish whose voice was in his ear.

“That’s more like it. Don’t worry, your big brothers won’t treat you badly. As long as we’re happy, your debts will be wiped clean.”

Qi Mingfeng suddenly realized something.

One of Fan Zhenjiang’s two friends was his debt collector.

They were plotting against him, and they intended to do it together.

They let Fan Zhenjiang lower his guard and pushed him into a corner with no retreat, only to smash his bottom line even further.

If he accepted today, what about tomorrow? Fan Zhenjiang was also interested in Qi Huan…

Qi Mingfeng pinched himself hard to regain a bit of clarity.

He forcibly pushed away the person in front of him. “Bosses, I’m sorry. I have things to do downstairs. I can’t stay to enjoy the evening with you today.”

Qi Mingfeng put down his glass and prepared to leave, but Fan Zhenjiang grabbed him: “Don’t you care about your brother anymore?”

Qi Mingfeng: “Thank you for your concern, President Fan. I’ll think of another way.”

“You’re already here; where do you think you’re going?”

Qi Mingfeng didn’t want to continue, but the three of them wouldn’t let him go. Relying on their numbers, they refused to let him out the door and insisted on continuing to force wine down his throat.

Someone held down his shoulders, someone pressed a wine glass to his lips. He turned his head, but someone else forced it back.

Glass and teeth made a sharp clinking sound. The liquid ran down his chin, soaking a large patch of his shirt. The low-quality work uniform immediately became semi-transparent. Pulled by an unknown hand, the distinct but not exaggerated muscles of his waist and abdomen were revealed. The wine reflected beautiful light under the shifting images of the MV.

Qi Mingfeng grew desperate. He forced himself free from one person, swung a bottle, and smashed it hard against the table. Shards flew everywhere.

The three men instinctively backed away. Qi Mingfeng held the broken bottleneck toward them and said, “Bosses, you are all people of status and reputation. Forcing a sale is not a good look, is it?”

Fan Zhenjiang wouldn’t let the meat at his mouth go: “Do you think you’re still the Qi Mingfeng of the past? Don’t be ungrateful.”

Qi Mingfeng gave a cold smile: “President Fan, the reason I’ve ended up like this today is precisely because I am ungrateful. Someone finds me particularly unpleasant. If I truly get caught in a tawdry scandal or something explosive happens, that person would certainly be happy to announce it to the world. I’m already like this; it doesn’t matter. But if you and these two bosses are dragged down with me, it wouldn’t be worth it.”

Fan Zhenjiang’s advancing foot paused.

He had quite a few connections in D City and had heard rumors of Qi Mingfeng being targeted at every turn.

Offers Qi Mingfeng had negotiated with companies would always fall through for various reasons. When he couldn’t find a job, he pushed a cart to sell snacks, but just as business picked up, thugs would chase him and smash his stall. When he did deliveries, his e-bike tires would be mysteriously slashed, nearly causing accidents. It had only quieted down in the last three months.

Qi Mingfeng must have offended someone powerful during his time in the entertainment industry for him to find no peace even after retiring.

Fan Zhenjiang’s lust had flared up, thinking the person behind it all just wanted to see Qi Mingfeng as a laughingstock, so they probably wouldn’t care if he kept him as a mistress.

But he truly hadn’t considered—what if the person behind this wanted to use this incident to humiliate Qi Mingfeng and expose them in the process?

Fan Zhenjiang couldn’t help but inwardly curse Qi Mingfeng for wanting money but having no shame, nearly dragging him into the mud. He felt the urge to retreat, but he didn’t want to lose face. He said pretentiously, “Mingfeng, if you had said earlier that you were unwilling, we brothers wouldn’t have forced you, would we?”

Qi Mingfeng: “President Fan is generous. Then I’ll be…”

“But I brought my friends here to relax today. For you to make such a scene really gives me no face. How about this,” Fan Zhenjiang picked up a fresh bottle and handed it to him. “Finish this, and we’re even.”

Qi Mingfeng was already in a difficult position and could even less afford to offend Fan Zhenjiang at this moment.

He stared at the bottle. Despite being utterly unwilling, he slowly took it, tilted his head back, and drank.

The alcohol slid down his throat like a raging fire, burning all the way to his internal organs.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed from behind.

CRASH—

Several people looked toward the door at once. The door panel slammed heavily against the wall, and the hanging bead curtain rattled and swayed violently. He Xian stood at the doorway, his tall silhouette blocking most of the hallway light. Qi Mingfeng couldn’t see He Xian’s expression clearly, but he could feel the intense aura of oppression coming from him.

As He Xian approached, the pressure became almost tangible.

He Xian took the wine bottle from his hand, held it up, and shook it to check the remaining amount. A smile played on He Xian’s lips, but his eyes were filled with coldness: “You’ve gained some skill, Teacher Qi. Your tolerance is quite good now.”

“Who are you? Who let you in!” Fan Zhenjiang’s friend, lacking any discernment, raised a hand to point at He Xian’s face.

But before the hand was halfway up, He Xian’s assistant twisted it behind his back, making him cry out in pain.

He Xian didn’t look at the others; he only stared at Qi Mingfeng: “Speak.”

Qi Mingfeng avoided He Xian’s gaze and asked in a low voice, “Say what?”

“For the sake of your precious voice, you used to be a teetotaler like a monk. And now…” He Xian swept his gaze over the bottles covering the table, his face turning even darker. “You’re drinking quite a variety.”

Qi Mingfeng wanted to act as indifferent as possible to avoid losing face in front of He Xian, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he let out a burp from the alcohol. He was so embarrassed he wanted to find a crack in the floor to crawl into, but He Xian’s presence seemed to block all his paths.

He looked at the reflection on the floor and forced a smile: “Forced by life.”

In the past, He Xian would have snapped back with a couple more sharp remarks, but now, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Previously, Qi Mingfeng was—if not pampered—at least a glamorous big star, well-fed and cared for at home. Now, he had lost a significant amount of weight. The shoddily made bar uniform, likely worn by countless people, hung loosely on his frame. His eyes were reddened by the alcohol, and he habitually bit his lower lip hard—a pitiful look of someone who had been bullied but didn’t know how to complain.

Most of He Xian’s anger dissipated. He reached out to touch Qi Mingfeng’s lips, rescuing the lip that had been bitten white: “Come back with me, and everything will be as it was.”

For some reason, Qi Mingfeng began to tremble slightly, the veins on the back of his hand bulging. Only after a moment did he look up at him: “As it was… how much money is that?”

He Xian laughed out of anger.

He knew Qi Mingfeng didn’t care much for material things, had no obsession with money, and wasn’t picky about his standard of living. Two years ago, he had preferred to pay a sky-high contract termination fee just to break away from him. And now, he was talking about money.

Earlier, he had asked the bar’s Little Boss about Qi Mingfeng’s situation and learned that Qi Mingfeng didn’t just sell wine; he also did various odd jobs but didn’t accompany guests for drinks. Not long after, he saw someone rushing to find the Little Boss, saying something might happen in Bill’s booth. When he came over to look, Qi Mingfeng was actually here drinking, which was unprecedented.

He didn’t drink before, but he was drinking today, and he was talking about money. What else could it be but him being unable to let go and intentionally being stubborn?

He Xian pinched Qi Mingfeng’s chin and scolded, “Are you a donkey? Would it kill you to show a bit of weakness?”

Qi Mingfeng didn’t take He Xian’s bait: “The boss in this booth offered me a hundred thousand.”

He Xian said casually, “I’ll double it for you. Two hundred thousand, alright?”

Qi Mingfeng was tempted.

The moment he heard He Xian say “Come back with me, and everything will be as it was,” he had wanted to throw a punch. He had been an honest, law-abiding person all his life and had done nothing wrong; why did he have to be pursued and humiliated by He Xian over and over again? Did he owe He Xian in a past life?

But that bit of self-respect quickly dissolved.

He Xian was still willing to condescend to pursue and humiliate him; it was truly a great blessing. He should be relieved and sing He Xian’s praises.

After today, Fan Zhenjiang would certainly retaliate against him. He might not even be able to stay at Binse, or even in D City.

He could survive on his own no matter what, but Qi Huan should have had a great future, yet he was dragged down because of him.

He desperately needed money. His current situation made it difficult to make a comeback, and he couldn’t find a way to make money quickly.

He Xian had money. Two hundred thousand a month—plus some part-time work—and life would surely get better.

It was just that He Xian was arbitrary and willful. If one day he made He Xian unhappy, things might change. He had to put the matter of money down on paper.

Qi Mingfeng: “I want to sign a contract.”

“Why are you so troublesome,” He Xian said with dissatisfaction, but meeting Qi Mingfeng’s eyes, he compromised: “How do you want to sign it?”

Qi Mingfeng walked toward the exit: “I’ll go find paper and a pen.”

Just as He Xian was about to follow him out, Fan Zhenjiang’s friend, who still lacked any discernment, spoke up again: “What’s going on with you guys! Qi Mingfeng was brought here by us to accompany us for drinks!”