RTCBM 22

Mu Yuan was sure that Wen Shang was up to no good.

He bolted, sprinting up the stairs and rushing into the room, slamming the door behind him in a panic. But he was just a second too late. Wen Shang’s hand shot through the gap, and with one hard shove of his knee, he forced the door open and barged right in.

“Not bad. You’re pretty damn good at switching roles.” Wen Shang stood at the doorway, blocking the exit, looking at him with a mocking smile.

Mu Yuan instantly knew the act was over. Wen Shang had figured everything out. His cover as Xiao Xing was blown.

And it was bad, because with someone like Wen Shang, once he found out he’d been played for a fool, the outcome was never going to be pretty.

With the exit sealed and no escape in sight, Mu Yuan scrambled for options but came up short. So he did the only thing he could. Kept playing dumb.

“Ge, what are you even talking about?”

“Who the fuck is your brother?” Wen Shang strode forward, grabbed his arm roughly, and yanked him close. His other hand went straight to Mu Yuan’s gelled hair and gave it a hard, chaotic rub. The slick style collapsed instantly, falling limp over his forehead and face.

Mu Yuan, just seconds ago still holding the air of ‘Boss Mu,’ now looked exactly like Xiao Xing.

“You’re still pretending?” Wen Shang’s voice dropped cold.

Mu Yuan gave up the act completely. If he was going down, he might as well go down loud.

“Yeah! I was pretending. So what?! You think I wanted to do this shit? If it weren’t for you secretly recording that video and threatening me with it, you think I’d have gone this far to get close to you? You think I enjoy this crap? Let me ask you something, huh? What the fuck did I ever do to you? I fucked your woman that one time, so what? I didn’t even know she was yours. I took the beating in front of all my boys, didn’t I? I let you hit me and didn’t fight back, what more did you want?

“Wen Shang, you walk around looking like some polished, respectable guy, but you’re a petty, vindictive piece of shit underneath. What kind of man drugs another man and rapes him while he’s passed out? You like men? Fine. Go pay a few gigolos, go hire ten or twenty pretty boys with slim waists and smooth skin. You’ve got the cash, right? Go fuck as many of them as you want. Nobody gives a shit. But why the fuck did it have to be me?

“If you like me, just say it. But let me tell you straight. I’ll never like you back.”

Mu Yuan didn’t stop. His mouth ran like a damn machine gun, spraying bullets with no pause, no filter, just fury.

Wen Shang’s face grew darker with every word. Then his patience snapped. He stepped forward and kicked Mu Yuan hard, knocking him straight onto the bed.

Mu Yuan reacted fast. He grabbed the bedside lamp and raised it like a weapon, barking with full fury as he swung it toward Wen Shang.

“You fucking pervert. Try laying a hand on me and I swear I’ll smash your damn skull in.”

Wen Shang said nothing. He simply turned around and walked out of the room. Before closing the door behind him, he left a cold line.

“Stay here and reflect on yourself.”

He locked the door from the outside and calmly returned downstairs to finish his untouched dinner.

From the dining room, Wen Shang could still hear Mu Yuan banging on the door upstairs, his voice hoarse from yelling.

“Reflect my ass. You’re the one who needs to reflect. Goddamn pervert! Stupid son of a bitch!”

Wen Shang regretted not kicking him harder earlier. Several times, he had to clench his fists and restrain himself from going back up just to punch him again.

“Fucking psycho. Into bondage now? Really?” Mu Yuan spat the words through the door with venom. “You want to play the prison guard now? Disgusting.”

He rushed to the bed, reaching for his phone to call He Dongying for help, only to find nothing. Not on the mattress, not beneath the pillow. It was gone.

He always kept his phone by his side. There was no way he misplaced it. Unless that bastard had taken it in advance.

And just like that, everything made sense. Wen Shang had the key to his room. He had probably planned this from the beginning. Stealing the phone was just one of many precautionary moves.

That motherfucker had trapped him like prey.

Mu Yuan cursed and pounded on the door all night. Wen Shang never responded. He let him scream until his voice wore out, then shut his own bedroom door, turned the music up, and slept like nothing had happened.

By the time the sun rose, Wen Shang was well-rested. After breakfast, he carried Mu Yuan’s portion upstairs. He unlocked the door and stepped inside. The room was empty.

The window was sealed shut. There was no way he jumped.

Figuring Mu Yuan was likely in the bathroom, Wen Shang stepped inside with the tray still in hand. Just as he turned to head in that direction, the wardrobe door creaked open.

Mu Yuan sprang out like a trap set loose. He lunged forward and tackled Wen Shang from behind, knocking them both to the floor. The tray flew from Wen Shang’s hands on impact. Oatmeal and milk splattered across the carpet, and the slice of bread rolled to a stop by their feet.

Mu Yuan’s hand reached into Wen Shang’s pockets, searching for the key.

But Wen Shang had already anticipated it.

He twisted his body and flipped Mu Yuan beneath him. When Mu Yuan threw a punch, he caught it with both forearms, stopping it dead in its track.

You want to play dirty?
Fine. Then I’ll show you dirty.

Wen Shang jerked his knee up and drove it straight into Mu Yuan’s groin.

The scream that followed tore through the room like a dying animal’s cry.

“You fucking bastard,” Mu Yuan gasped, curling in on himself. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. “You did that on purpose. You fucking psycho.”

“If you’ve still got the strength to curse me out, you’re doing just fine.” Wen Shang stood up and dusted himself off. His voice was icy as he looked down at the man writhing in pain.

“You tried a sneak attack. Don’t blame me for defending myself.”

He went through all the trouble to prepare breakfast for that bastard, only to be ambushed the moment he stepped through the door. Just thinking about it pissed Wen Shang off even more.

He turned and walked out, locking the door behind him again.

That little scene in the morning ruined his mood for the rest of the day. At the office, the crease between his brows never relaxed. Even from five or six meters away, his subordinates could feel the oppressive aura around him. Everyone instinctively knew to stay out of his way if they valued their peace.

Wen Shang sat at his desk, a report spread open in front of him. It had been sitting there for over an hour, but not a single word had registered in his brain.

On the computer screen were two photos. One was Mu Yuan dressed like a brash, nouveau riche thug. The other was the clean, soft-spoken boy-next-door known as Xiao Xing. Two completely different looks, two utterly opposite vibes, but both played by the same person.

Wen Shang still couldn’t wrap his head around it. What frustrated him the most was remembering that on his own birthday, he had actually kissed Mu Yuan. Softly. Earnestly. Like a fucking idiot.

The fury he had been trying to suppress surged up again, boiling over. He slammed his fist onto the desk with a loud thud.

His assistant, Chris, knocked twice and walked in like usual, only to catch that exact moment. She paused for a few seconds, hesitating. Wen Shang’s face was so cold it felt like walking into a freezer.

She forced herself forward anyway, swallowing her nerves. “Boss?”

“What is it?” His tone was sharp and impatient.

Chris mustered a professional smile. “You scheduled a meeting with the real estate developer yesterday. He’s already arrived and is waiting in the reception room.”

Wen Shang’s frown deepened.

“Then why were you standing there hesitating? Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Chris felt the injustice hit her square in the chest. She had only been a few seconds late, yet he snapped at her like she kicked his dog. His mood had nothing to do with her, but she was taking the hit for it.

The real estate developer waiting downstairs was someone Wen Shang had negotiated with months ago. Back when he had just returned to the country, he caught wind of a land-use transfer happening in the old district on the western side of the city. The National Land Bureau was preparing to list a piece of property for bidding. With sharp business instincts, he immediately recognized the untapped commercial potential of that area and decided on the spot to acquire it and develop it into a new commercial hub.

Everything had been lined up. The funding was in place, and all preparations were completed. Wen Shang had believed it was a sure win. But a small slip-up on the day of the auction cost him the opportunity. The parcel he had set his sights on ended up falling into the hands of Mu Yuan. That was their very first encounter, one that would become the origin of everything that came afterward.

Because of that loss, Wen Shang was forced to abandon the original plan and look for an alternative site. Months passed without progress, and the project was repeatedly delayed.

Now, that same developer was here to revisit the issue and share a recent update.

“Mr. Wen,” the man said, “you mentioned before that the land in the old district was purchased by someone named Mu Yuan. But when I went to the Land Bureau a few days ago to check the records, I found something different.”

Wen Shang paused and listened.

“The land-use certificate lists the registered owner as your uncle, Mr. Luo,” the man continued. “When you mentioned the name Mu Yuan, I thought it sounded familiar. It took me a while, but then I remembered. Isn’t he the godson Mr. Luo adopted some time ago? That’s what prompted me to look into it, and sure enough, I found the record.”

Wen Shang said nothing. But now it made sense where Mu Yuan got the funds to buy the land.

The man went on. “Since the land-use rights belong to your uncle, that should make things easier. Why not speak to him and ask if he’d consider transferring the rights to you? That zone is bound to skyrocket in value. If your project is built there, I guarantee that within the next ten years, it will become one of the city’s most lucrative districts.”

Wen Shang listened quietly, his mind already calculating the angles.

After the man left, he immediately called Luo Yi.

“Ah, Shang? You’re still at work, aren’t you? What’s going on?”

“Uncle,” Wen Shang asked directly, “was it Mu Yuan who bid on the land in the western old district on your behalf?”

Luo Yi thought for a moment. “Oh, that one? Yes, he borrowed money from me to make the purchase. But his paperwork wasn’t complete at the time of the transaction, so I temporarily registered it under my name. Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious,” Wen Shang said, “why did Mu Yuan want to buy that land?”

“It’s like this,” Luo Yi explained. “That old district is where Mu Yuan grew up. Not long ago, he heard that a piece of land in the area was going to be auctioned off. Some developers were already eyeing it, planning to turn the whole place into a massive commercial project. The zone covers a huge area, and once construction starts, it would seriously affect the lives of the residents, many of whom are elderly and have lived there all their lives. Back when he was in trouble, those neighbors looked after him and offered help when he needed it most. He’s deeply attached to that place. That’s why he bought the land. To keep things quiet and stable for the people there.”

Wen Shang sounded unimpressed. “Old things will eventually be replaced by new ones. Even if everything stays the same now, in five years, ten years, or twenty, it’s going to change anyway. Besides, he borrowed a huge sum from you. Do you honestly think he can pay that back?”

Luo Yi chuckled. “I never intended to make him pay it back. That boy saved my life. Compared to that, money means nothing.”

“Ah Shang,” he continued over the phone, “new things are great because they’re full of energy, full of promise. But old things… they have warmth. They carry people’s emotions.”

“Warmth,” Wen Shang echoed under his breath as he drove.

His car crawled through the narrow lanes of the old district, weaving between buildings that still stood with stories in their walls. Unlike the clean, streamlined new district, this place was noisy and chaotic. Street vendors still ran their little stalls along the road. One sold curry fish balls. Another sold popsicles and iced drinks. A third one hawked hotdogs and sandwiches. But it was the stall selling imitation shark fin soup that caught Wen Shang’s attention.

The vendor was an old man in his fifties. Wen Shang suddenly remembered that the last time he had run away from home at seventeen, this was the same spot where he stopped to eat.

He pulled over and found a spot to park, intending to buy a bowl, but it happened to be school dismissal time. The place was swarming with parents and schoolkids, shoulder to shoulder. In the end, he gave up and turned back.

Wen Shang wandered through the winding alleys of the district with no real destination, his steps slow and aimless. After walking for twenty minutes or so, he passed a Cantonese opera troupe. From within the building, he could hear the high-pitched voices of a male and female actor in the middle of a duet. Backed by the sounds of the erxian, gaohu, and other traditional strings, they were performing The Floral Princess: Death of the Princess.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Wen Shang’s feet moved on their own, drawn by the music. Like something had cast a spell on him, he stepped forward, following the sound until he found himself inside the theater.