YMW CH 9

Homophobia

Xie Guilan froze. Cen Wu’s palm felt soft yet trembled slightly, just like last night. It was as though fear gripped her, but she forced herself to stand tall and stay put.

Her fingers tightened around Xie Guilan’s arm. His muscles tensed under her grip, solid and reassuring—far more than any discussion of sexual orientation.

If things went south, she could always fight her way out.

“Well, isn’t this the Second Young Master?” Wang Yue squinted as if he had just noticed Cen Wu. He ground his cigarette into the ashtray and suddenly kicked the man next to him, feigning anger. “Why didn’t anyone tell me the Second Young Master was coming tonight?”

Wang Yue’s section of the bar teemed with over a dozen people—either business associates or sycophants vying for his attention.

The man he kicked, Wang Ling, scrambled to his feet and quickly cleared a seat for Cen Wu. Bowing with exaggerated deference, he said, “Second Young Master, please, have a seat here.”

“It’s all my fault,” Wang Yue said with mock regret, pouring Cen Wu a glass of wine himself. “If I’d known you were here, I’d have invited you over earlier.”

Cen Wu didn’t touch the glass or move to sit.

The dim, purple lights of the bar exuded a hazy, sensual allure, painting a scene of indulgence. Cen Wu noticed a boy kneeling in front of Wang Yue. The boy kept his face bowed low, his slender frame trembling slightly.

He wore a white shirt, now soaked with red wine. The fabric clung to him miserably, accentuating his discomfort.

“Get out of the way,” Wang Yue barked, his brows furrowing. His voice, cold and commanding, made the boy flinch.

The boy scrambled to kneel further away. His hands pressed against shards of broken glass, but he stayed silent, not daring to protest.

“My apologies for the scene,” Wang Yue said, leaning back against the sofa. “I brought someone over for fun, and this server had the audacity to drop the drinks. The wine spilled all over my guest, so naturally, he has to pay for that.”

“Not to mention, he scared the hell out of my date. My anger’s far from settled—shouldn’t he take responsibility for that?”

Cen Wu pressed his lips into a thin line, his expression frosty. Wang Yue, infamous for his reckless behavior, often relied on his wealth to cause trouble. Even the original Cen Wu, as arrogant as he had been, had avoided dealing with him.

Blue Night might have a reputation for male models, but such blatant displays rarely happened here.

The boy couldn’t have been older than twenty. Cen Wu didn’t recognize him but guessed he was likely a struggling minor celebrity. Wang Yue’s family owned an entertainment company and often targeted new talent.

Cen Wu’s assumptions weren’t far off. Earlier that day, Wang Yue caused trouble at his family’s company and received a scolding from his uncle. Frustrated, he had spotted this small-time star at the agency and dragged him here to vent his anger.

The boy had been coerced into coming. Unwilling and inexperienced, he stiffened at even casual touches. Wang Yue, losing patience, grew furious and forced him to kneel by the booth to “serve.”

“Don’t… don’t ruin the mood over these people,” Cen Wu said, taking a deep breath and slowing his words to avoid stammering.

He adopted a cold, annoyed expression, pulled out a card, and slapped it against Xie Guilan’s chest in a deliberately humiliating gesture. “Order whatever Young Master Yue just had—exactly the same. Understand?”

“…”

Xie Guilan paused. His initial confusion faded into numb acceptance. Cen Wu’s actions made it clear he was protecting him, even if others might not see it.

But Xie Guilan did.

No one had ever stood in front of him like this before. He could tell the difference immediately.

Even if he had no idea what Cen Wu really intended.

The chaotic bar lighting cast shifting shadows, flickering over Cen Wu’s face. Her thick lashes trembled, damp and curled, with a hint of redness at her nose and the corners of her eyes. She tried to look fierce but didn’t quite pull it off.

For some inexplicable reason, Xie Guilan didn’t feel humiliated. Instead, his cold brows arched slightly as he took in the scene. Cen Wu’s hand, pressed against his chest, trembled violently. Her slender, snow-white fingers curled reflexively, almost as if she was grabbing a handful of him.

Xie Guilan: “…”
Cen Wu: “…”
Cen Wu: !!!

Realization struck Cen Wu like a bolt of lightning. Her pale ears flushed deep red, the heat spreading rapidly to her face. Shame burned through her, buzzing loudly in her head. The lingering sensation of firmness under her fingertips refused to fade.

Help. It wasn’t intentional!

But still… not bad for the male lead. At just seventeen or eighteen, he already had chest muscles.

Wang Yue: ?

Wang Yue, who had been completely ignored, twitched with frustration. His face hardened as he let out a pointed cough, trying to reclaim attention. His tone dripped with annoyance. “Second Young Master, this isn’t just about the wine.”

Wang Yue and Xie Guilan didn’t share any deep-seated grudges, but there was history. Last year, Wang Yue had crossed paths with Xie Guilan at a banquet.

Back then, Wang Yue had little access to the elite circles of Huai Jing and failed to recognize Xie Guilan as the infamous illegitimate son of Xie’s family patriarch. Assuming him to be some wealthy family’s relative, Wang Yue had approached him with feigned enthusiasm.

Unable to resist gossip, Wang Yue had commented, “Doesn’t President Xie have an illegitimate son? Wonder why he didn’t bring him along.”

Before Xie Guilan could respond, someone nearby snickered and said with veiled disdain, “That kind of person isn’t fit for the spotlight. What difference would it make if he came?”

Wang Yue had tried to continue the conversation, but Xie Guilan, dressed in a sharp black suit that highlighted his tall, slender figure, walked away with an icy indifference. His cold gaze remained fixed ahead, and he didn’t utter a single word to Wang Yue the entire evening.

At first, Wang Yue assumed he had been brushed off by some prominent young master. Although irritated, he hadn’t taken it too seriously—until he later learned that Xie Guilan was the illegitimate son.

Why?

Wang Yue had endured years of rejection from Huai Jing’s princelings, festering in resentment. And now even an illegitimate son dared to treat him with such indifference?

Although he didn’t harbor the deep hatred that Xie Shangjing had for Xie Guilan, Wang Yue made a habit of causing trouble whenever their paths crossed.

Tonight was no exception. He’d signaled someone to trip Xie Guilan on purpose when he came over with the drinks.

“What… what does Brother Yue plan to do?” Cen Wu asked cautiously.

Cen Wu desperately wanted to de-escalate the situation. Just standing there without shaking too much had taken all his effort. Fighting was out of the question, and if money could resolve the issue, he didn’t want to waste more time.

Wang Yue sneered, his gaze lecherous. “That bottle I ordered costs 8,000. He should pay me back, don’t you think?”

“And besides… I’m not calm yet. Since he scared my guest, he can join me in a private room. If he does, I’ll let this go.”

“Exactly,” Wang Ling chimed in, his expression full of mockery as he pointed at Xie Guilan. “Do you even know how much that bottle costs? How many nights would you have to work here to pay it off?”

The others in Wang Yue’s booth erupted into cruel laughter.

“Honestly, Yue-ge is doing you a favor. Why are you acting so clueless? Go on, follow him already!”

“You can’t even carry a drink properly, but I bet you know how to lie down and spread your legs, right? Didn’t Song Lingwei teach you anything at home?”

Xie Guilan, used to enduring endless humiliation, initially showed no reaction. But at those last words, his face darkened. His eyes turned icy, a storm of unrestrained malice swirling in their depths.

Cen Wu, watching the scene unfold, couldn’t fathom the audacity of these people. Did they think their scrawny frames or Wang Yue’s pudgy figure could stand up to the male lead? Where was their sense of self-preservation?

Cen Wu often envied that kind of brazen confidence. If he had even a fraction of it, maybe he wouldn’t be so socially anxious.

“Brother Yue, here’s the thing,” Cen Wu began, standing his ground despite his nerves. “Shangjing gave this guy to me. He’s under my care for the next few days. Could you… just let this go for my sake?”

Wang Yue hadn’t planned to escalate things too far. Although his family was wealthy, the Cen family was not a force he could afford to offend. Still, he couldn’t fathom why Cen Wu insisted on shielding Xie Guilan tonight, playing the role of a saint.

“Fine, since you’re asking so nicely,” Wang Yue sneered, his gaze turning malicious. “Let him get on his knees and use his mouth. Do that, and we’ll call it even. How about it?”

“…”

What started as Wang Yue targeting Xie Guilan had now morphed into a standoff between him and Cen Wu.

As the tension in the room grew, onlookers exchanged uneasy glances. While none of them would dare speak to Cen Wu in such a way, they also knew Wang Yue’s wealth made him a dangerous adversary.

Even Xie Guilan raised his head to look at Cen Wu. His gaze lingered on a tiny red mole at the edge of Cen Wu’s pale ear, momentarily distracting him. Why is this idiot looking at me?

Cen Wu stayed silent for a few seconds before answering, “Alright.”

Hearing this, Wang Yue’s face lit up with twisted satisfaction. Not only could he humiliate Xie Guilan, but even Cen Wu was bowing to him. The euphoria coursed through his body, making his scalp tingle.

Meanwhile, Xie Guilan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as his throat tightened. His pale complexion took on a cold, ghostly hue. His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with restrained fury and despair.

Some in the crowd couldn’t bear to watch, pitying Xie Guilan’s misfortune at being trapped with such predators. Others, however, were too eager for the drama, already recording the scene on their phones.

“But,” Cen Wu interrupted just as Wang Yue’s lackeys began moving toward Xie Guilan, “I don’t think that’s enough.”

Cen Wu had a striking face, cold and elegant. His long lashes framed eyes shimmering with watery light, making him seem both delicate and aloof. Though his fingers trembled and his shoulders stiffened with effort, his mere presence commanded attention, drawing every gaze in the bar.

Wang Yue narrowed his eyes, intrigued. “What do you suggest, Second Young Master?”

“How about I help you instead?” Cen Wu replied.

Wang Yue froze, as did Xie Guilan, who stared at Cen Wu in disbelief. Off to the side, Chu Zijian, who had been enjoying the show, nearly exploded with rage.

What kind of nonsense is this?

“Second Young Master!” Chu Zijian stormed forward, brimming with indignation.

However, Cen Wu didn’t even look at him. “Stand aside.”

As Wang Yue, his hair slicked back with gel, glistened under the bar’s neon lights, Cen Wu wrinkled his nose in distaste. Turning to Xie Guilan, he lightly tapped the back of his hand. “Give me your gloves.”

Xie Guilan wordlessly obeyed, pulling off his gloves and handing them over. Cen Wu slipped them on with an air of calm, the slender elegance of his fingers drawing Wang Yue’s fascinated stare.

Before anyone could react, Cen Wu closed the distance between them, grabbed a fistful of Wang Yue’s hair, and slammed his head into the ashtray on the table.

The sound was sharp and brutal.

Cen Wu’s gloved fingers tightened their grip, forcing Wang Yue’s face down again and again into the ashtray. His voice, cold and composed, cut through the stunned silence.

“Calmed down yet?” he asked icily. “Are you calm now?”

The ashtray struck Wang Yue’s nose, sending a jolt of pain straight to his skull. Tears and snot flowed uncontrollably as he flailed, caught entirely off guard.

Everyone froze, stunned by the sudden violence. No one dared make a sound.

“Fuck!” Wang Yue shouted, struggling to free himself. His years of indulgence had left him physically weak, and Cen Wu’s grip pinned him down completely. “Cen Wu, are you insane?! You want to die?!”

Finally, Cen Wu let go, stepping back as Wang Yue staggered upright, blood dripping down his face. His blurred vision and the ash stinging his eyes sent him into a blind rage.

However, before he could charge, Cen Wu grabbed a bottle of wine and smashed it over Wang Yue’s head with a resounding crack.

Blood poured from the wound.

Cen Wu flinched slightly, his neck shrinking reflexively, but his trembling hand held firm. With the jagged, glass-shard-covered neck of the bottle still in his grip, he pointed it at Wang Yue’s bleeding head and asked once more:

“Calmed down yet?”

“…”

At that moment, the bar fell into a dead silence.

Wang Yue did calm down—more than that, he felt a pang of fear. It was one thing to exchange harsh words, but he had almost gotten into a physical altercation with Cen Wu?!

If this little tyrant were actually injured, his family would undoubtedly face ruin.

“Second Young Master, this…” Wang Yue allowed his cousin to help him up as he wiped the blood from his forehead. His voice trembled as he forced a smile. “This was all a misunderstanding. I was just joking around.”

“And I… I was joking too,” Cen Wu replied, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. “Brother Yue wouldn’t mind, right?”

Even his voice carried a faint tremor.

Xie Guilan: “…”

Something about this felt off—really off—but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Wang Yue, his head still buzzing from the blows, failed to notice Cen Wu was just barely holding himself together. Gritting his teeth, he swallowed the metallic taste of blood in his mouth and said, “Of course not. Why would I mind?”

Could he even dare to mind?

The table still had at least a dozen bottles left. He only had one head. Who knew if it would last through another round of Cen Wu’s assaults?

“The wine earlier was eight thousand, right?” Cen Wu’s vision blurred, and he wasn’t entirely sure what he was saying anymore. He turned to Xie Guilan, removed his gloves, and handed over a card. “Use Brother Yue’s name to… to open ten sets of the Black Spade A Dragon package.”

His hands visibly trembled as he tried to push the card into Xie Guilan’s palm. It took several attempts, all unsuccessful. His lips tightened, and a soft sniff escaped him as his damp lashes clumped together in a pitiful display.

Xie Guilan’s eyelid twitched. He wasn’t sure what possessed him, but he suddenly reached out, not only taking the card but also brushing against Cen Wu’s cold, trembling fingers.

“Don’t be afraid,” Cen Wu murmured, his voice soft and wavering. He gave Xie Guilan’s hand a light squeeze. “Go ahead.”

Ten sets of the Black Spade A Dragon package. That totaled over eighty-eight thousand yuan, more than ten times the cost of Wang Yue’s single bottle of wine.

Yet, Wang Yue’s face turned as dark as the bottom of a pot. He realized he had been thoroughly ignored again. Worse still, if Xie Guilan opened the sets, wouldn’t he earn a hefty commission?

He had suffered humiliation all night, his head smashed open, blood streaming everywhere, and somehow Xie Guilan was walking away with more than a month’s salary in tips?!

These two are teaming up to make a fool out of me!