Chapter 6.2: Mariage d'Amour

Winter passed, spring came, and at the onset of summer, Yuan Zhui’s cousin Wang Jiadong returned from studying abroad in the U.S.

The Wang family, Yuan Zhui’s maternal relatives, lacked the century-accumulated influence of the Yuan clan but were still prominent in their own right. Wang Jiadong’s background was particularly notable—his father was the only brother of Yuan Zhui’s long-deceased mother, and as the eldest grandson of the Wang main line, his name alone reflected the immense expectations placed upon him.

Wang Jiadong had caused quite a scandal in Hong Kong years earlier. He’d seduced the underage daughter of a police superintendent, leaving the girl utterly devoted while he callously walked away. His departure wouldn’t have been an issue—except the girl ended up pregnant. The superintendent loathed him so fiercely he nearly shot him dead on the spot.

The Wangs operated in the underworld. No matter how powerful such families were, they fundamentally feared the police. Even if a single superintendent couldn’t dismantle the Wangs, leaving such an enemy meant future operations would face endless obstacles—such humiliation would fester into an unrelenting vendetta.

Wang Jiadong’s father—Yuan Zhui’s own uncle—had no choice but to secretly seek help from Yuan Zhui, the underworld’s so-called "Crown Prince," while bribing officials left and right. Finally, before the superintendent’s eyes, he had his son beaten thirty strokes with a heavy rod, barely managing to settle the matter. Wang Jiadong’s leg was nearly broken, confining him to bed for three months. The moment he could walk again, his father shipped him off to the U.S. on a one-way ticket.

For all his flaws, Wang Jiadong was a decent student. After years abroad, he returned to Hong Kong with a shiny foreign Ph.D., ready to resume his carefree lifestyle.

Yuan Zhui had always gotten along well with this cousin and hosted a family banquet to welcome him home.

The feast was tailored perfectly to Wang Jiadong’s tastes—fine liquor, exquisite dishes, and beautiful women, a whole row of smiling, chattering girls adding to the lively atmosphere. Wang Jiadong clapped Yuan Zhui on the shoulder, laughing heartily. "You really know me best!"

"Cut the crap," Yuan Zhui said, pouring more wine. "Out of the whole Wang family, you’re the only one spoiled rotten. Of course you get whatever you want."

"You have no idea," Wang Jiadong grumbled, accepting a grape from a nearby beauty. "The old man watches me like I’m a prisoner—nothing like the freedom in the U.S. Hong Kong’s been open for decades, so why does it still feel like I’m stuck in the past?" He smirked. "Speaking of freedom, who could compare to you, Crown Prince? Flaunting all these women in broad daylight, and Chairman Yuan just turns a blind eye."

"Blind eye? My father isn’t even home today!"

"Oh? So you’re the only master in the Yuan household now?"

"Hardly." Yuan Zhui shoved a glass into Wang Jiadong’s eager hands. "Be careful. Don’t make too much noise. My little brother isn’t feeling well—he’s resting in his room."

Wang Jiadong spat out his wine. "What? You have a brother?—Chairman Yuan’s actual son?"

Yuan Zhui shrugged. "Three DNA tests confirmed it. He’s fourteen or fifteen now, pretty as a flower. Dad dotes on him like crazy—keeps him by his side day and night, even shares his bed. Pity his mother’s reputation isn’t great, otherwise he’d have been formally recognized by now."

Wang Jiadong’s jaw dropped. "That’s… unexpected. So he’s basically a little crown prince." He paused. "Wait, your father still sleeps with him? Jesus, Chairman Yuan doesn’t seem the type to have… weird tastes—ow!"

Yuan Zhui kicked him hard in the stomach. "You asking for another beating? Watch your mouth in the Yuan house!"

Wang Jiadong laughed, realizing how absurd his implication was. He poured a full bowl of wine and clinked it against Yuan Zhui’s with gusto. "Bottoms up!"

With the way these two drank, it didn’t take long for them to get drunk.

Amid the beauties and jewels, Wang Jiadong’s head soon swam with intoxication, his temples throbbing. Staggering outside for air, he lit a cigarette and took a few deep drags before feeling slightly better.

The afternoon breeze drifted through the courtyard, where a pebbled path wound past lush clusters of butterfly orchids, vibrant as an oil painting. Wanting to sober up further, Wang Jiadong meandered along the trail. Gradually, the flowers thinned, and after a hundred meters or so, the path ended abruptly at a set of stone steps leading up to an ornate copper door left slightly ajar. Beyond it seemed to lie another expansive garden.

On a whim, Wang Jiadong ascended the steps and pushed the door open.

Later, he would look back on this moment of foolish curiosity with nothing but regret.

No one had told him that this copper door was the rear entrance to the Yuan family’s main residence—home to its most terrifying patriarch, Yuan Cheng.

Of course, Yuan Cheng didn’t share a roof with his adult eldest son. His palatial villa housed only his treasured youngest child—and himself.

Wang Jiadong stood on the immaculately trimmed lawn, gazing at the lush deciduous trees lining the path, when the faint sound of trickling water reached his ears.

Had he restrained his curiosity then and turned back, the disaster that followed could have been avoided.

But Wang Jiadong was not a man known for restraint. If he’d possessed even a shred of it, he wouldn’t have impregnated a police superintendent’s underage daughter in the first place. Compared to that, trespassing was nothing.

Pushing through a bush of blooming pink flowers, the sound of water grew clearer. He turned and saw, hidden among the trees, a lotus pond shimmering under the dappled afternoon sunlight. A boy sat on the marble edge, draped only in a large white towel, his shoulders, arms, and legs glistening with water, so pale they seemed to glow.

He must have just climbed out of the pond—his hair was soaked, droplets trailing down his neck. Wang Jiadong swallowed hard, imagining those beads slipping beneath the towel, tracing the boy’s slender back, the delicate shoulder blades, the curve of his spine, lower and lower…

The alcohol in his veins burned hotter, a feverish excitement igniting his nerves, overwhelming all reason.

Lang Bai had one foot dangling in the water, the other tucked against his knee. The warm sun lulled him into relaxation—he might have sat there until his skin dried naturally.

It was such a peaceful, golden afternoon, the breeze carrying the scent of lotus blossoms. If not for the crunch of dry twigs behind him, he might have dozed off right there.

He turned, his expression lazily annoyed.

"Who’s there?"

Wang Jiadong approached until he stood directly behind Lang Bai. They were so close now. He fought against his impulses for a long moment—then surrendered, placing a hand on Lang Bai’s bare shoulder.

Lang Bai stared at the intruding hand, baffled. "...Who are you?"

"I—" Wang Jiadong stammered. "I’m—"

"Guards!" Lang Bai clearly had no patience for a strange, stammering trespasser. "Gua—mmph!"

Panicked, Wang Jiadong clamped a hand over his mouth, pinning him against the marble. Lang Bai froze, struggling instinctively, but Wang Jiadong pressed close, whispering urgently, "Shh, don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you… I won’t."

Unfortunately, no amount of reassurance could mask the reek of alcohol that made Lang Bai want to gag.

"Hel—" Before he could finish, Wang Jiadong crushed their lips together in a frenzied kiss, swallowing his cry for help.

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