Chapter 11: That

Fang Hong hung up the phone and saw Yu Xian sneaking over, glancing left and right like a thief—he found it pretty funny.

It's not like we're going to hook up, why act so nervous! You've got none of that later nonchalance or indifference.

"We're not playing by hidden rules—what's wrong with enjoying ourselves openly?" That was Yu Xian's own words later.

Fang Hong slung an arm around his shoulder. "Let's go."

"Won't someone recognize us?" Yu Xian glanced again toward campus, afraid of being spotted by someone he knew.

"So what if they see us? We're adults, about to graduate, stepping into society—we're grown men now, and grown men deserve adult pleasures." Fang Hong spoke as if it were obvious.

"But I still feel it's wrong." Yu Xian still had a moral hang-up.

"Just tell me—do you want to have fun or not?" Fang Hong cut straight to the point.

Yu Xian fell silent again. He deeply longed for that mysterious place, yet felt morality forbade it—hesitant, torn.

Seeing his hesitation, Fang Hong didn't waste time—he grabbed Yu Xian's hand and led him to a nearby club. Not upscale, but not shabby either.

"Welcome!"

As soon as they stepped through the door, two beautiful women on either side, dressed provocatively with low-cut tops and exposed thighs, bowed to them.

This treatment instantly made him feel like someone important.

But Yu Xian was extremely embarrassed—wanting to look but afraid to, utterly conflicted.

Soon, a supervisor led them deep into the club. Along the way, Yu Xian saw more lovely, gentle young women, dressed scantily, smiling politely at him.

He dared only glance below their heads, refusing to meet their eyes—so shy!

Yet inside, he thrilled—feeling like a man above others, as if truly valued.

Far better than those Beijing Film Academy goddesses he couldn't even get to notice him, those little fairies who wouldn't even deign to speak.

"Here, you're God!" Fang Hong said.

When they first entered the club, Yu Xian had been excited—but when they left, he felt disappointed.

Because it was just a foot massage—nothing out of bounds happened. He'd hoped Fang Hong would drag him into doing that thing—every man knows what he meant.

But he couldn't bring himself to say it, so the experience fell short.

"Did you have fun? I'll bring you again next time," Fang Hong said.

He knew perfectly well what Yu Xian wanted—but they had no money, and that service cost over a thousand yuan each, so they settled for the foot massage. Promises must be kept.

The main reason was that Fang Hong would soon become a public figure—he had to uphold public decency. That kind of thing couldn't be done! A little edge was fine; public figures aren't saints! It was already very late, the moonlight thin and sparse, and the two walked along the road toward campus.

"Not bad! But that woman who massaged me talked too much—kept rambling about her family, how she had elderly parents and—"

Yu Xian was now looser, talking more, sounding far more natural than before, no longer so stiff.

They'd done this together now—they shared a secret, and that made them good friends.

"You don't believe her?" Fang Hong asked.

"I'm not stupid. Why would I believe her nonsense?" Yu Xian replied.

Fang Hong smiled. To win someone's friendship, take them to a brothel.

Together you've been to brothels, together you've held guns!

The first shows your ugliness to the other; the second gives your back to them—both are bonds forged in life and death!

And Fang Hong would one day give his back to Yu Xian.

There was no choice—rising alone was too slow; he needed help. Yu Xian was the best candidate: no ulterior motives, loyal to others.

Back at the dorm, everyone was asleep. Fang Hong didn't disturb them—his classmates had been close during school.

But after entering society, they lost contact—reality set in.

In his past life, Fang Hong hadn't done well early on, so they had no reason to pay attention to him.

The next day, Fang Hong biked several kilometers to the café where Liu Tianxian had arranged to meet.

This café was private—you had to book in advance!

Outside, it looked like a cozy wooden cabin surrounded by greenery, very stylish.

Fang Hong arrived panting—he'd pedaled hard and was nearly turned away by the guard, but explained himself and was let in. "Over here!"

As soon as he entered the courtyard, he heard that familiar, sweet little voice.

He looked up and saw Liu Tianxian wearing large sunglasses, leaning on the wooden railing of the second-floor terrace, gazing down.

Her posture was casual, exuding a commanding, dominant aura.

"My lord, why are you drenched in sweat?" Liu Tianxian teased.

"Provisions haven't arrived—I'm anxious," Fang Hong wiped his face, referring to the money not yet in his hands.

Liu Tianxian smiled, gesturing for him to come up.

"Tap-tap-tap!"

Fang Hong climbed the wooden steps, reaching the terrace in a few strides. There were sofas, greenery, and bamboo tables and chairs—the setting was serene.

Rich people really knew how to enjoy life! "Sister, you've such refined tastes."

"One moment you call me 'Boss Liu,' the next 'Sister'—you're quite good at inventing titles," Liu Tianxian sat on a bamboo chair, legs crossed, gesturing for him to sit opposite.

"'Boss Liu' shows my reverence; 'Sister' shows my respect," Fang Hong sat down.

"You revere me when I have money, respect me when I don't," Liu Tianxian nodded several times. "You're quite well-mannered."

"My mother taught me. Can't change it," Fang Hong said.

Liu Tianxian smiled. So impressive—just a few words could make her laugh. She now understood how he'd built his team so fast: just that mouth of his.

She pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to him. "Let's get down to business. Write an IOU—add the ten thousand yuan too."

That's 3.01 million! "No need. Just a few million—do you really think I won't pay you back?" Fang Hong said without hesitation.

Liu Tianxian wasn't fooled. She looked at him, mischievous: "That's not certain!"

Though said cutely, the words struck Fang Hong hard—they questioned his character.

Keep in mind, later wealthy people who borrow money never pay it back—he's already a moral exemplar by comparison.

"Your behavior hurts me deeply. I thought our friendship transcended money, but it turns out to be so worldly."

Fang Hong took the paper from her hand, picked up the pen, and wrote immediately—no hesitation. Getting the money was what mattered; all that talk was useless.

"Oh my, you didn't say it, but I had no idea our friendship was so pure," Liu Tianxian teased.

Fang Hong glanced at her. This woman was now certain he'd cave, which was why she acted this way—everything she said was coldly official.

He finished the IOU with a few strokes and handed it over.

Liu Tianxian took it, flicked the paper with her fingertip—"pop"—and said, "Your handwriting is truly beautiful."

"Basic skill," Fang Hong said.

Liu Tianxian placed a seal ink pad on the table and said, "Put your fingerprint on it."

"You'll have no friends if you keep this up," Fang Hong said.

Liu Tianxian turned her head toward the distance—her meaning was clear: no fingerprint, no money.

With no choice, Fang Hong pressed his index finger into the ink pad, then stamped his fingerprint below the signature.

"Satisfied now, Miss?"

"Mm!"

Liu Tianxian nodded, thoroughly pleased.

She reached out to take the IOU, but Fang Hong slapped his palm down on the paper.

"Where's the money?"

"You think I'd ever not pay you?"

"That's not certain at all!" Fang Hong mimicked her earlier tone and expression.

(End of Chapter)