Chapter 136: Cold, Crazy School Prince x Delicate, Spoiled Brat 44
The meeting concluded, and the reporters vanished as quickly as they had appeared.
The banquet hall lit up, its massive crystal chandelier casting a dazzling glow across the golden space, illuminating the elegantly dressed crowd.
Jiang Luoluo smiled and returned greetings from acquaintances, then stood alone before a red velvet cake, using a golden fork to take a bite.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over him, blocking the light. Jiang Luoluo looked up to see a man in his early thirties standing before him.
He didn’t recognize the man.
Jiang Luoluo gave a polite nod in acknowledgment and turned to leave.
“General Manager Jiang!”
The man blocked his path, stepping in front of him again. “I’m Yang Cheng from Huaxing. Would you like to be friends?”
Jiang Luoluo offered a polite smile. “President Yang.”
Yang Cheng stared at Jiang Luoluo, who stood half a head shorter than him, his gaze fixed on the younger man’s face, his expression momentarily stunned.
Jiang Luoluo was simply too beautiful.
His snow-white, delicate face framed almond-shaped eyes that shimmered with light, as if the crystal chandelier’s brilliance had been captured within their depths.
He merely smiled politely, the corners of his lips lifting slightly in a restrained manner. His plump, rosy lips softened the alluring curve of his slightly upturned eyes, creating an impression of pure, innocent charm.
But that was just a facade.
The fact that Mu Jianian still treated him so warmly after their breakup suggested he had thoroughly enjoyed their time together.
This was just a show of innocence for the public; behind closed doors, who knew how debauched he might be?
As Yang Cheng thought this, his gaze shifted from admiration to thinly veiled contempt.
He cleared his throat, adopting a courteous tone. “Little Manager Jiang, care for a drink?”
Jiang Luoluo frowned inwardly.
“General Manager Jiang” was “General Manager Jiang.” Adding “Little” to the title, combined with Yang Cheng’s condescending tone, gave off an unmistakable air of mockery.
It was like a seasoned barfly bullying a newcomer.
His curled lashes lifted slightly as Jiang Luoluo delivered a crisp, decisive refusal: “I’m sorry, I don’t drink.”
Yang Cheng’s expression darkened at his words.
Several onlookers, who had been sitting nearby, exchanged knowing glances, eager to witness his humiliation.
Yang Cheng’s face paled as he stiffly asked, “Little Manager Jiang, are you looking down on me?”
No matter how beautiful you are, you’re just a plaything for the rich and powerful.
What’s with this holier-than-your act?
Before Jiang Luoluo could respond, Yang Cheng forcefully thrust a glass of red wine at him.
“Little Manager Jiang, our circle is small. We’re bound to run into each other in business. Let’s not make things awkward, shall we?”
The surrounding crowd gasped in shock, while the men across from them gave Yang Cheng a thumbs-up.
Yang Cheng grew even more smug, not giving Jiang Luoluo a chance to speak.
“Little Manager Jiang, we know about your situation. It’s no shame to cling to a powerful backer—after all, everyone aims for higher status, and you certainly have the assets for it.”
“But please open your eyes and see the reality. President Mu has already discarded you. There’s no need to keep up this charade.”
“After all, there are plenty of new power players here tonight. Even someone as insignificant as myself has a bit of money to spare. I could take care of you, offer you some… benefits…”
Jiang Luoluo stood in the crowd, looking up at the man’s superficial charm.
The faint smile at the corner of his lips vanished completely. He extended his slender, pale fingers and wordlessly accepted the glass of red wine from Yang Cheng’s hand.
With lightning speed, he flung the wine into Yang Cheng’s face, his soft tone laced with icy disdain:
“Yang Cheng, even lust has its place!”
The red wine drenched Yang Cheng’s head and face, dripping down his barely defined chin onto his shirt, leaving him utterly humiliated.
Suppressed laughter rippled through the crowd, followed by hushed whispers:
“…So arrogant…”
“…Just wait…”
“…This is going to be good…”
Seeing the scene unfold, acquaintances rushed over, relieved to find Jiang Luoluo unharmed.
They grabbed Yang Cheng, urging him: “Just apologize to General Manager Jiang—”
“Apologize, my ass!”
The surrounding scornful gazes felt like tangible knives, piercing Yang Cheng’s already inflated yet fragile vanity.
He roared, ignoring his friends’ attempts to restrain him, his voice rising higher and higher, his gestures increasingly frantic:
“I’ll fucking make this little bitch drink the wine today!”
A commotion rippled through the crowd, followed by an instant of silence.
Yang Cheng hadn’t even registered what was happening when a dark shadow flashed before his eyes, and he was kicked flying.
With a crash, he landed on the champagne table, tumbling to the ground amidst shattered glasses. The sound of splintering glass filled his ears.
Yang Cheng cried out in pain, but before he could react, someone grabbed him by the neck and hauled him to his feet.
Mu Jianian, dressed in black with dark hair, pressed Yang Cheng’s head down and shoved him into the crowd. His dark leather shoe stomped on Yang Cheng’s face, his handsome features grim and his jaw clenched.
“I wouldn’t even dare raise my voice at him,” Mu Jianian snarled. “And you had the audacity to force him to drink? Who gave you the nerve?!”
His dark, obsessive gaze terrified Yang Cheng into begging for mercy. “President Mu! I was wrong, President Mu!”
Jiang Luoluo stared wide-eyed at Mu Jianian, stunned.
Since their last parting, Jiang Luoluo had imagined countless scenarios for their next encounter. In every one, he had resolved to flee immediately, giving Mu Jianian no chance to catch him.
Yet now, faced with Mu Jianian, he had completely forgotten to run…
Another agonized scream pierced the air.
Mu Jianian lifted his leg and kicked Yang Cheng in the chest. The shards of broken glass embedded in Yang Cheng’s body sent searing pain through him, leaving him gasping for breath.
While begging for mercy, Yang Cheng frantically scanned the crowd for someone who might help him.
The man who had tried to intervene earlier stepped forward, enduring the pressure. “President Mu, President Yang is just drunk and speaking carelessly.”
“General Manager Jiang wasn’t hurt anyway. Please, show some magnanimity and let it go.”
Mu Jianian sneered, his darkly handsome face twisted with mockery.
“Speaking carelessly?”
“Let it go?”
“Fine!”
He smiled, turned, and grabbed a bottle of red wine from a nearby table, hefting it in his hand.
Yang Cheng, whether from pain or terror, was sweating profusely.
Mu Jianian, dressed entirely in black like a demon, approached with leisurely strides, his slender fingers gripping the bottle’s neck.
Then, with a swift motion, he swung the bottle down, smashing it against Yang Cheng’s head.
Yang Cheng’s head jerked violently, golden sparks flashing before his eyes.
The bottom of the bottle shattered instantly, leaving jagged shards of glass glinting coldly under the lights.
The surrounding crowd froze in shock, forgetting even to call for an ambulance.
“Since this mouth speaks so carelessly, it might as well be silenced permanently,” Mu Jianian drawled lazily. He clamped one hand over Yang Cheng’s mouth while holding the shattered bottle with the other, aiming the jagged shards at Yang Cheng’s gaping maw.
He shoved the glass into Yang Cheng’s mouth.
Blood gushed from Yang Cheng’s mouth in a crimson torrent.
A heart-wrenching scream pierced the banquet hall. Mu Jianian clapped his hands, casting a cold glance at the figure writhing on the floor.
He turned his head, meeting a pair of luminous, watery eyes.
The sinister smile on Mu Jianian’s lips faded.
He saw me again.
With his timid nature, he must be terrified.
Perhaps he thinks I’m cruel, and will despise me even more.
A dull ache pulsed from the scar on his chest, heavy and suffocating.
It doesn’t matter. I already hate myself enough.
Standing beside him, Jiang Luoluo lowered his head slightly, his gaze fixed on Mu Jianian’s bloodstained hand.
This was the third time Mu Jianian had fought for him:
The first time was in the school restroom.
The second time was at the hot spring in the resort town.
And now, this.
In Jiang Luoluo’s mind, Mu Jianian was the aloof school idol in his crisp white shirt, the refined and noble business elite, always composed and in control.
Yet each time that composure shattered, it was because of him.
It seemed Mu Jianian couldn’t maintain his calm whenever Jiang Luoluo was in danger.
Jiang Luoluo lowered his gaze, a dull ache in his heart, an indescribable discomfort.
Following his gaze, Mu Jianian glanced at his own hand.
The bloodstained hand was neither beautiful nor reassuring.
The bloodstained fingers evoked images of violence and bloodshed.
Mu Jianian silently hid his bloodied hand behind his back, studying Jiang Luoluo for a moment before asking, “Did I hurt you?”
The person standing opposite him shook his head.
Wet eyes gazed up at him from a small, pale face, framed by fluttering, curled lashes and pursed, plump lips.
He looked exactly like the delicate little wife Mu Jianian had known in the hot spring corridor—the one who used to nestle in his arms, cooing “Husband” with sweet affection.
But that person would never again curl up in his embrace, never again call him “Husband” with such tender intimacy.
Mu Jianian’s heart ached with regret and sorrow.
His baby, who had once loved him with all his heart, now stood before him as a stranger, their paths irrevocably diverging.
How desperately he wanted to pull Jiang Luoluo into his arms and comfort him, but even stealing a few more glances felt like an unattainable luxury.
He hummed in acknowledgment, accepted the damp towel offered by a waiter, and lowered his head, meticulously wiping the blood from his hand, drop by drop.
This should be the end of it.
Any further actions might make Jiang Luoluo worry about his ulterior motives.
People began to gather around, feigning concern and asking if Mu Jianian was injured.
Mu Jianian responded absently, his gaze drifting through the crowd to the small figure standing apart.
Jiang Luoluo stood with his head bowed, watching the janitorial staff clean up the mess on the floor, his posture conveying a sense of loneliness.
Soon, several more people approached him, their expressions feigning concern.
The one standing to Jiang Luoluo’s left was his university classmate—or, more intimately, his senior brother.
The one facing Jiang Luoluo had recently partnered with Comet Technology.
The one craning his neck from the right was a newcomer to the industry, likely trying to curry favor.
Mu Jianian counted them off one by one, his expression dark.
The jealousy in his heart had overflowed, turning sour and unbearable.
He crumpled the tissue in his hand into a ball, his gaze heavy as he stared at the surrounding crowd.
His darling stood in the center of the circle, like a beautifully decorated pastry or a naive little rabbit who saw good in everyone, smiling sweetly at them all.
As more people gathered around, closing in on his darling, Mu Jianian frowned, tossed aside the tissue, and strode forward, shoving through the crowd.
