Chapter 3 – An Accident

Qin Zhan watched the money quickly appear in his account before tucking his phone back into his pocket after a moment.

Bai Ling’s younger brother’s tutoring sessions were usually on Wednesday evenings and weekend afternoons. Qin Zhan took on any part-time job as long as it paid.

He’d stumbled upon this tutoring gig by chance. His grandmother’s hospital bed happened to be next to Bai Ling’s mother’s. Du Li had just undergone tumor removal surgery at the time, and whenever Qin Zhan visited his grandmother, she would often see him around. They struck up conversations, and after learning about his family circumstances and university studies, Du Li proactively offered him the tutoring position.

At the time, Qin Zhan didn’t know Bai Ling personally; he’d only heard her mother mention that her daughter also attended the same university. It wasn’t until his second tutoring session, when Bai Ling happened to return home to retrieve something, that they officially met. However, Bai Ling had already learned about him from her mother beforehand.

The two-hour tutoring session flew by. Before Qin Zhan left, Du Li made him a bowl of noodles with plenty of meat sauce and stuffed a basket of fruit into his hands, insisting he take it to his grandmother.

His grandmother’s hospital wasn’t far from here. Due to end-stage uremia, she frequently suffered respiratory failure and required intensive care, resulting in a long-term hospital stay and reliance on dialysis to survive.

He had considered a kidney transplant, but even the cost of her regular treatments left him gasping for air, let alone the exorbitant fees for a transplant.

“You’re here?” The nurse recognized him immediately. “Your grandmother’s appetite has improved slightly these past few days. By the way, the dialysis fees for last month are due.”

Qin Zhan stood outside the ward, glancing at his grandmother who was leaning against the bed, her eyes closed in rest. After a moment, he turned to the reception desk. The hospital bill totaled over six thousand yuan—entirely out-of-pocket without medical insurance.

He lowered his eyes, swiped his card, and only glanced at the remaining balance before saying nothing.

“Your grandmother’s episodes of respiratory failure are becoming more frequent,” the nurse said, unable to hold back. “Overall, her condition isn’t very optimistic. Don’t your parents ever visit?”

“They’re both dead,” Qin Zhan replied flatly, giving her a detached look.

“Oh… I’m sorry,” the nurse said, flustered as she handed him the receipt. “Go see her now.”

When Qin Zhan entered, the old woman seemed to sense his presence. After a moment, she slowly opened her aged, drooping eyelids, her cloudy eyes rolling slowly before finally focusing.

“Class over?”

“Mm-hmm.” Qin Zhan placed the fruit on the table, then peeled an apple, diced it into bite-sized pieces, and arranged them in a bowl with a toothpick. “How have you been feeling these past few days?”

“Very well. Everything’s fine.”

Qin Zhan didn’t reply. For them, silence seemed a commonplace occurrence.

The old woman speared a piece of apple and popped it into her mouth. Her gnarled, yellowed hand, mottled with age spots, clutched the toothpick. “Tomorrow’s your father’s death anniversary. Will you visit him this year?”

“No.”

The old woman fell silent. Qin Zhan stood up without another word, leaving only a perfunctory “Eat well” before departing.

Just as he was about to close the door, the old woman suddenly called out to him. When he turned back, she looked at him with a sudden pleading expression.

“These past few days, living has become increasingly painful for me. Keep the money and take good care of yourself.”

Qin Zhan gripped the door handle, his lowered gaze obscuring his thoughts. Only when a nurse passed by, looking at him with mild curiosity, did he calmly reply, “Don’t worry about it.”

By the time Qin Zhan left the hospital and reached his destination, it was nearly ten at night. He glanced at the time and followed the main road for a short while before turning into a bar district. The area was riddled with back alleys that appeared somewhat sinister under the garish glow of the neon signs lining the main street.

He pulled open the back door, and the cleaning lady, who was sorting through trash, glanced up at him. “You’re here.”

Qin Zhan nodded silently and opened a locker to retrieve his work uniform. He worked as a backstage helper at this bar, occasionally assisting up front when they were short-staffed. Though the work was exhausting, the hourly wage on weekend nights was high, and his shift only lasted until 2 a.m., when someone would relieve him.

“Qin Zhan, sort these trash bags and take them out,” the manager called out as soon as he finished changing.

Before him lay several large black plastic bags, some overflowing with trash clinging to the edges. The contents—a foul mix of liquor and viscous vomit—stank horribly. Qin Zhan lowered his gaze, put on disposable gloves, and bent down to sort the garbage one by one.

The heavy bags left him drenched in sweat by the time he’d hauled them all to the alley.

“Where’s Qin Zhan?”

“He’s out back taking out the trash.”

“What’s taking him so long?” the manager snapped impatiently.

“What’s up?” Qin Zhan asked as he returned, just in time to hear his name being called. He pulled off his somewhat grimy gloves and looked at the manager.

“Go help out at the front desk. It’s crazy busy tonight,” the manager frowned. “Wash your hands thoroughly first.”

Qin Zhan rarely worked at the front desk. As a server, he was expected to smile ingratiatingly, and while the manager knew his looks were an asset, the bar’s success depended on service, not just looks.

“Sorry, Qin Zhan, it’s crazy busy tonight and I can’t handle it all myself,” a handsome young man said, sticking out his tongue apologetically. “Could you take these to table 12 for me? I need to clear table 16.”

Qin Zhan glanced at the tray piled high with bottles and glasses. The young man pouted. “The guests are really rich, so they ordered a lot of expensive stuff. You can take it in two trips if you want.”

“It’s fine.”

The interior was dimly lit, filled with the pulsing rhythm of the music and the boisterous chatter from other tables. Qin Zhan bent down to place the tray on the table, then began arranging the bottles one by one. But as he reached for the fourth bottle, someone suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Hey, isn’t that… Qin Zhan?” The voice sounded surprised, yet laced with amusement.

Qin Zhan looked up and found himself meeting an equally surprised gaze. The other man, perched above him with a cigarette dangling from his lips, smirked.

Zhou Liao never frequented bars in this district. This area lay beyond C City’s five main districts, a hub for migrant workers and local impoverished residents. However, the area was undergoing redevelopment, slated for a new development zone. If their sports car outing hadn’t taken them to the outskirts, Zhou Liao would never have set foot here, even at Chen Xian’s suggestion.

But who would have thought he’d run into him of all people?

“Your drinks,” Qin Zhan said flatly, his expression unchanging. He glanced at the identical twins draped around Zhou Liao’s arms before speaking with mechanical formality.

“Is this your bar?” Zhou Liao asked deliberately.

Beside him, a man puffing on a hookah, his head swimming with smoke, chuckled. “Would your dad wear a uniform like that to the office?”

The group erupted in laughter. Chen Xian, standing nearby, felt a cold sweat break out, knowing they were exploiting Zhou Liao’s status to say these things.

He never liked getting too close to people like Qin Zhan. He still believed in the old saying about “aura,” and he was relieved the bar’s dim lighting obscured Qin Zhan’s face, concealing some of his usual brooding air.

Qin Zhan showed no reaction to their words, his expression as unchanging as ever as he set the drinks down on the table.

“Who’s this, little bro?” one of the twins asked, stifling a laugh behind her hand.

“Ah…” Zhou Liao tilted his head, glancing at Qin Zhan. “The ladies are asking for an introduction. Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

Qin Zhan shot him a glance, his eyes dark and inscrutable, thick as a pool of black viscous liquid that made one uneasy. Yet Zhou Liao clearly saw the contempt hidden deep within those depths.

“All the drinks have been served,” Qin Zhan said calmly, then turned and walked away.

This was the third time Qin Zhan had ignored him, each time in front of a crowd, especially with the girls beside him looking increasingly awkward. Zhou Liao’s pent-up anger from the past two days erupted.

He had lived his entire life basking in the glow of his good looks and wealth, accustomed to being the center of attention. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined being scorned by some gutter rat. Had his previous leniency—sparing him a punch to the face—made him think he could get away with this?

Smash!

The sound of shattering glass was barely audible amidst the throbbing music, but it still made a few nearby patrons turn their heads. As Zhou Liao lowered his leg, he deliberately nudged the bottle, sweeping everything near the edge of the table to the floor.

“Waiter, it seems you didn’t set the bottle properly on the edge,” Zhou Liao said, feigning innocence while his words dripped with malicious mockery. “I ordered Hennessy and Macallan Blue Diamond. Who’s going to pay for this?”

Chen Xian took a deep breath and surreptitiously tugged at Zhou Liao’s sleeve, only to be violently shrugged off.

Zhou Liao found tormenting this “rat” unexpectedly satisfying. Watching Qin Zhan stand there, isolated and defenseless, the humiliation of being scorned faded considerably. He leaned forward, determined to force Qin Zhan’s gaze to remain fixed on him alone.

“I,” Zhou Liao enunciated slowly, each word dripping with contempt, “am asking you, who the fuck is going to pay me back?”

This time, Qin Zhan’s gaze locked completely onto Zhou Liao. His voice remained utterly flat, his expression unchanging. “Let’s check the surveillance footage first, sir.”

“Check the surveillance?” Zhou Liao scoffed. “So you’re saying I put this glass on the edge of the table myself? Is this how your bar does business?”

Their commotion grew louder, and the boy who had asked Qin Zhan for help earlier, having finished cleaning up, rushed over. “Excuse me, guests, what’s going on here?”

“Your waiter smashed all the drinks we ordered on the floor,” someone nearby chimed in.

The boy glanced at the shattered bottles on the floor and gasped. Heavenly Father! These are the VIP clients from Table 12! The drinks they ordered tonight alone would net our shift manager nearly ten thousand in commission!

“Qin Zhan?” He cautiously glanced at Qin Zhan. “What’s going on here?”

“Here’s the deal,” Zhou Liao spoke first. “You finish the drinks on this table, and we’ll drop the matter. My table’s drinks weren’t cheap either.”

The boy eyed the remaining drinks on the table. If one person tries to drink all that, they’ll either die on the spot or end up in the hospital for a stomach pumping.

He swallowed nervously, forcing a smile. “Guests, could there be some misunderstanding?”

“A misunderstanding? What misunderstanding? You don’t think this is your waiter’s fault?”

“Of course not.”

The young man quickly plastered on a smile, racking his brain for an explanation. But Qin Zhan stopped him with a hand and nodded to Zhou Liao. “Can I clean this up first before drinking?”

Zhou Liao, twirling a strand of the girl’s hair around his finger, casually replied, “Sure.”

Qin Zhan bent down, his calloused hands reaching for the shards of the shattered wine bottle. Tiny slivers of glass embedded themselves in his flesh, but he showed no sign of pain, his expression remaining utterly blank.

A moment later, the light on the floor shifted into shadow, and he heard a sudden chorus of gasps around him. A cold, slightly sweet liquid streamed down his temple to his jawline, quickly forming a small puddle on the floor.

“Ah…”

Zhou Liao crouched down, his inner malice stirring at the sight of Qin Zhan’s disheveled state. He tilted Qin Zhan’s alcohol-drenched chin upward with a predatory glint in his narrowed eyes.

“Oops, looks like I accidentally spilled some. Can you lick it up for me?”