Chapter 9#
The banquet hall was designed in a medieval Baroque style, referencing the Rosario Chapel, with perspective and shadow used to exquisite effect. An abundance of plaster relief and gilded decoration lent the space a lavish, intricate splendor — opulent and refined.
Later, during renovations, Lu Hui felt the style was too overt, so he hired a master gardener to incorporate the Chinese garden techniques of framing, borrowing, screening, and glimpsing. Amid the grandeur, it brought touches of delicate ingenuity and added a layer of Chinese cultural depth.
If Man Yu hadn’t visited the Lu family once before, his legs would have gone soft again by now. He clung nervously to Sheng Lin’s arm, unwilling to leave his side, only to be ruthlessly pulled away.
Sheng Lin and the Sheng couple casually deposited Man Yu in a corner and went off to socialize.
Watching her husband’s retreating figure from afar, Man Yu looked so pitiful and helpless. He had to sit as carefully as he could, afraid of wrinkling the suit — it was the first time he’d ever dressed this formally.
With nothing to do, Man Yu could only stare up at the statues on the forty-meter-high vaulted ceiling, counting the patterns on them one by one.
Gradually, more and more guests arrived, and the small corner where he sat grew increasingly crowded.
Man Yu had once been able to speak eloquently from the lectern, but he was utterly unable to handle a gathering like this. When someone spoke to him, he could only nod or shake his head, saying as little as possible to avoid blurting out something thoughtless — and also so he wouldn’t expose the fact that he stuttered.
The atmosphere made him restless. His fingers gripped his knees tightly as he longed to leap straight to the dance portion and then head home.
Before long, it seemed a servant noticed his discomfort and attentively brought him a cup of warm water. “Sir, if you’re not feeling well, I can take you to a rest room upstairs. There are fewer people up there — it’s quieter.”
Man Yu hesitated. What if Sheng Lin couldn’t find him?
The servant seemed to read his concern and smiled. “If Mr. Sheng needs to find you, I’ll come upstairs and bring you down first.”
Only then did Man Yu relax. He nodded and followed the servant up the staircase.
Sure enough, there was hardly anyone upstairs. Everyone was busy socializing downstairs, and his tense nerves eased considerably.
The servant showed him to a rest room. The light inside was very dim, with thick curtains drawn shut, and the heavy velvet carpet rustled softly underfoot.
The layout consisted of a living area, a bedroom, and a bathroom — a sofa sat in the living area, with a bar counter to the right. Behind the counter was the bedroom, lightly scented with a faint fruity floral aroma.
Man Yu sat obediently on the sofa without wandering around, not even pulling open the curtains. A little dark was fine; it wasn’t good to touch other people’s belongings indiscriminately.
Being alone finally let him catch his breath.
He had just heaved an inward sigh of relief when the lights clicked on with a sharp snap, flooding the room with a blinding brightness. He shot to his feet.
“S-Sorry, I-I didn’t know — someone — someone was already—!” Man Yu apologized hastily.
“It’s fine.” The other person’s voice was somewhat hoarse, as though he had just been awakened, which only deepened Man Yu’s guilt. He lowered his head and apologized repeatedly, saying he hadn’t paid attention and had walked into the wrong room.
Whether it was really Man Yu who had walked into the wrong room, Lu Yinbing knew better than Man Yu himself.
He didn’t know Man Yu very well. Aside from that restless, covetous desire to possess, all he had were the scattered bits and pieces from a file. But now, that stiff, black-and-white line — “temperate disposition, honest and dutiful” — suddenly came to life.
Told to go buy water, he went. Led into the wrong room by a servant, and he took all the blame himself.
How could such a person exist?
No wonder Sheng Lin bullied him all the time. Someone like Sheng Lin needed to be whipped into submission — beaten until compliant, until afraid — before he’d settle down.
He corrected Man Yu: “It must have been the servant who led you to the wrong room.”
Man Yu’s heart clenched. Thinking of that gentle, kind servant, he couldn’t bear to see her punished for a mistake at work. He waved his hands frantically, insisting, “R-Really, it’s me — I…”
Lu Yinbing actually found himself at a loss with this honest person. It was his first encounter with someone like this — no temper whatsoever, willing to tolerate anything. It made him want to tease him just to be malicious.
Man Yu was too flustered to recognize who was speaking. Only when a faint scent of saffron wafted over did his gland tingle slightly, and he jerked his head up — just in time to catch Lu Yinbing walking out of the bedroom, leisurely fastening his buttons.
He wore a wine-red silk shirt with a deep neckline, exposing a broad expanse of firm chest and abs. The flamboyant, alluring red silk half-concealed the young, taut flesh beneath, complementing his richly handsome, chiseled features.
Man Yu’s face flushed crimson. He quickly averted his gaze, instinctively covering his completely flat chest, suddenly self-conscious. He wanted to bolt.
“Did I scare you that day?” Lu Yinbing’s words made Man Yu involuntarily halt his step.
Afraid he’d overthink it, Man Yu hurriedly said, “No, no—”
“Then why do you run so fast the moment you see me?” Lu Yinbing had already finished straightening his clothes and was no longer as exposed as before, though the wide-open V-neck still boldly showcased the perfect shadows of his pectoral muscles.
Man Yu had no taste. His temperament was meek and honest. It wasn’t his fault that a lowlife like Sheng Lin had seduced him. Sheng Lin had probably slandered him plenty of times as well, so it was only natural that Man Yu might hold some prejudice against him.
He magnanimously decided not to pursue the matter of Man Yu’s earlier rejection.
Lu Yinbing believed that as long as Man Yu spent time with him and got to know him, he would naturally realize who the right choice was.
Sheng Lin was debauched, ugly, incompetent, and ill-tempered — while he was clean, handsome, and possessed of a young body.
What Lu Yinbing needed was to display his charm and help Man Yu make the right choice.
With that said, Man Yu couldn’t very well leave — it would be too rude. He fumbled for a suitable excuse. Lu Yinbing observed his flustered state for a moment, then kindly stepped in to help — never mind that his own presence was what caused the embarrassment in the first place. “It was probably my words that day that were too abrupt. If I startled you, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself yet. My name is Lu Yinbing.”
He smoothly took Man Yu’s hand and, with a smile, wrote his name in his palm. “My name is these three characters.”
Scalding heat traveled upward through their clasped hands. Man Yu felt as if his very blood were being set on fire. He tried to wrench free, but his hand was held fast, utterly immobile. A faint ticklish sensation spread across his palm as Lu Yinbing finished the last stroke. When his fingers lifted from Man Yu’s palm, they hooked ever so slightly — almost imperceptibly — before letting go.
Man Yu quickly pulled his hand back and nodded numbly to show he understood.
The warmth of Lu Yinbing’s body still lingered on his wrist and palm — scorching, impossible to shake off.
“The first time I saw you, I thought you were beautiful. So pretty,” Lu Yinbing observed Man Yu’s expression without a trace, taking advantage of the fact that Man Yu didn’t dare look him in the eye. His gaze licked over Man Yu with unbridled intensity — the cheeks that had flushed red the moment they met, the perpetually trembling, icy fingers, the memory of that soft touch when he’d gripped his hand. His voice grew increasingly hoarse. “That day I saw how Sheng Lin treated you, which is why I said what I did.”
Man Yu was startled. He’d rarely been praised by anyone. At most, relatives would call him honest, low-maintenance, and well-behaved. Now he was being called pretty and cute by a child six years younger. He was utterly mortified, and even more at a loss for how to respond.
When people scolded him, he was well accustomed to it — he could simply lower his posture and apologize endlessly. But when people praised him, he had no idea what to do. All he could manage was to keep saying, “Thank you, thank you.”
Like a little robot that had been heated to a glow, its programming glitching, capable only of repeating “thank you.” If Lu Yinbing didn’t say stop, he could probably have gone on weakly saying it forever.
Bullying honest people was really amusing.
Lu Yinbing guessed that even if he dragged the man to bed right now and did whatever he wanted, Man Yu would only endure it in silence, too afraid to let anyone know.
His pheromones, now settled from his heat cycle, began to boil faintly. Lu Yinbing wanted to bite him, strip off his clothes, inject his own pheromones into his body, force a knot inside him — watch him struggle, cry, and refuse, only to be thoroughly marinated in his pheromones from the inside out, his belly full of Lu Yinbing’s seed, walking out of this room into the open, trembling with fear and dread.
He could even use this to blackmail him into coming whenever called. After all, to keep hidden the fact that he’d slept with a man other than his husband, Man Yu would have no choice but to obey him absolutely.
Even someone as slow to perceive pheromones as Man Yu could sense that Lu Yinbing’s pheromones were somewhat unstable — always rising and falling, thick and thin like a roller coaster. He’d heard that all Enigmas were like this; their pheromones were more forceful and occasionally leaked.
“To make up for it, how about I mix you a drink to try?”
Lu Yinbing, of course, didn’t actually do what he’d been fantasizing about. With those words, he walked over to the bar counter, taking out ice cubes and a cocktail shaker.
Man Yu didn’t drink, but that didn’t stop him from finding Lu Yinbing’s bartending movements exceptionally graceful — like something out of a movie. He thought to himself, how did this person seem to know how to do everything?
The ice cubes clinked in the glass with a bright, clear ring. Lu Yinbing quickly slid a gorgeous cocktail in front of him. The glass was small, and creamy white swirled with vivid azure in a beautiful, refreshing color. Lu Yinbing said it was called Coconut Sea.
Man Yu’s eyes lit up. He praised the drink: “S-So pretty…” and then praised him: “S-So impressive…”
But he didn’t dare drink it. He didn’t dare drink alcohol, let alone a drink handed to him by a stranger.
Lu Yinbing seemed to read his wariness and smiled. “It looks like the dance is about to begin. You can take it downstairs to drink. The alcohol content is low — it’s sweet.”
With that, he rose and gallantly opened the door for him.
Man Yu thanked him and carefully carried the drink downstairs. On the way, he took a small sip — it was indeed sweet, with no trace of alcohol at all.
To match the evening’s theme, most of the food served at the banquet was Western-style cold platters or pastries.
Man Yu was still sipping his drink in small mouthfuls when the servant led him to a secluded spot where a steaming bowl of noodles sat on the table.
He glanced around and sure enough spotted Lu Yinbing on the second floor not far away, giving him a small wave.
Man Yu pressed his palms together in front of his face, expressing his gratitude from a distance.
He became even more certain that Lu Yinbing was merely a occasionally mischievous and showy child — not nearly as terrifying as Sheng Lin and the others made him out to be. They practically described the boy as a reincarnated demon.
Likewise, he was now more certain that Lu Yinbing was probably treating him as a new toy, or perhaps took pity on him for being so miserable beside Sheng Lin and was extending a patronizing gesture that carried a whiff of salvation — just another childish prank, nothing more.
When Man Yu first started working, his very first class of students had been around Lu Yinbing’s age. They would occasionally send him holiday greetings. Whenever he thought of it, his heart softened, and he felt more tolerant toward Lu Yinbing.
Whether Lu Yinbing’s intentions were good or bad, Man Yu was deeply grateful to him — grateful for the apology, grateful that he hadn’t ordered him around or looked down on him like others did, grateful that he had patiently listened to his halting, stuttering speech.
…
It wasn’t until it was time to toast Lu Hui that Sheng Lin finally remembered to call Man Yu over. Reluctantly, he let Man Yu take his arm and, holding a wine glass, walked over with his parents.
Lu Hui was refined and affable. Despite the fact that the Sheng family was far beneath the Lu family, he still presented a warm, genial attitude, offering Sheng Lin a polite compliment: “You attend the same high school as Yinbing, is that right? Your parents mentioned you married right after graduation — family first, career second. You strike me as a steady young man.”
He then sighed wistfully, “You were already married at Yinbing’s age, and still I don’t know when he’ll bring me a daughter-in-law. Perhaps his temper will settle down once he’s married.”
He wasn’t expecting a daughter-in-law to manage his son properly — he merely hoped Lu Yinbing wouldn’t find someone with a personality similar to his own, and that the couple would move out of the house so Lu Yinbing could stop running amok and throwing his weight around. And above all, he hoped they wouldn’t produce another child as troublesome as Lu Yinbing.
The Sheng couple wore broad smiles. Chen Yanning quickly flattered, “The eldest Young Master Lu is a dragon among men. Surely he’ll bring home an excellent daughter-in-law in the future. Unlike ours here — he’s just honest and dutiful, that’s all.”
Upon hearing this, Lu Hui felt a genuine wave of disagreement from the depths of his heart. He looked at Man Yu and sighed, “Honest and dutiful is more than enough. Honest and dutiful is a wonderful thing — that’s the greatest virtue.”
With a son like Lu Yinbing, the words “honest and dutiful” were practically the loftiest virtues in Lu Hui’s mind. It was the one blessing he dreamed of his whole life but could never hope for — that Lu Yinbing might possess such qualities.
Lu Xingyun followed behind his father, watching Man Yu come over with Sheng Lin to toast. Listening to his dad rambling on, he felt as though his thoughts were in a tangled mess, his head about to explode.
He was sure his dad had absolutely no idea that his own brother had once coveted Sheng Lin’s honest, dutiful wife.
Out of goodwill, Lu Xingyun clinked glasses with Sheng Lin and remarked, deliberately yet casually, “Indeed — honest and dutiful is a virtue. I hope the two of you get along well. Get along well, I say. Here’s to a hundred years of harmony and growing old together.”
If his brother had given up, otherwise the wife would have already run off with someone and Sheng Lin would still be here complaining. Living a good life beat everything.
To Sheng Lin, these words were nothing short of a curse, but he couldn’t afford to offend the Lu family. Only Man Yu’s face softened into a faint, shy smile.
After speaking, Lu Xingyun inexplicably felt a chill run down his spine.
Thanks to the crash course training he’d received, Man Yu managed to get through the dance portion with ease.
The waltz had begun, its gorgeous orchestral strains filling the hall. Sheng Lin stood there with a sour expression, visibly unwilling to dance with Man Yu. Man Yu looked around and, as expected, spotted Lu Yinbing seated not far away, surrounded by a crowd.
Alphas and Omegas queued up one by one to invite him to dance, only to be turned down each time. Man Yu felt a twinge of regret — deep down, he hoped Lu Yinbing would spend more time with these people, find his own love, abandon this game with him, and cut Sheng Lin’s obsession short too.
He sighed softly, then looked back at Sheng Lin. No wonder he was unhappy — anyone who watched the person they loved being pursued and fawned over by others, while they themselves could only marry someone they didn’t love and dance with someone they didn’t love, would feel pretty wretched.
Chen Yanning shot Man Yu a glare. Man Yu had no choice but to steel himself, placing one hand lightly on Sheng Lin’s shoulder and clasping his other hand, whispering a reminder, “Your mother is — is — watching… we…”
Sheng Lin reluctantly placed his hand on Man Yu’s waist, his gaze finally drifting back from the distance to Man Yu’s face.
Man Yu stood very close to him. A faint, elusive fragrance seemed to waft from his body into Sheng Lin’s nostrils. His face was finally uncovered, and he tilted his head upward, looking at Sheng Lin with a gaze that was almost pleading. His eyes were large, his rosy lips slightly parted.
Something stirred in Sheng Lin’s chest, but it was immediately replaced by a greater wave of disgust. Even now, at a time like this, he was still pretending to be pitiful to seduce him.
Sheng Lin smiled coldly. He planned to give Man Yu a harsh lesson right here on the dance floor — after all, Man Yu was so good at putting on an act, so good at enduring things. Even if he were stepped on a few times, he wouldn’t make a sound.
Before Sheng Lin’s plan could be put into motion, a servant crossing the dance floor “accidentally” spilled hot soup all over him.
The scalding broth made Sheng Lin cry out involuntarily, the sharp sound drawing stares from all around.
He hastily fell silent, but the soup behind him continued to drip, drip, drip down his body.
He had once lost face spectacularly. That incident had tormented him day and night, impossible to forget, the shadow seared deep into his heart. As a result, he was especially concerned with saving face, always suspicious that others looked down on him, always fearing they were laughing at him.
And today, in front of everyone, he had once again lost face in a humiliating way. The mortification and agitation flushed his entire face red, his breathing quickened.
The servant apologized profusely and offered to escort him to the changing room.
Sheng Lin’s face, swollen and red as a pig’s liver, stiffly twisted into a forced smile.
With her husband gone from the hall, Man Yu was left standing alone at the edge of the dance floor. He saw Lu Yinbing rise from his seat, apparently heading in his direction.
He quickly lowered his head, found a corner to sit in by himself, and decided not to take part in the dance.
Lu Yinbing had wanted to play the hero rescuing the beauty, letting Man Yu see his gentlemanly demeanor and his decent dance moves. Half the plan had fallen through. He circled the dance floor once, then calmly returned to where he’d been.
At eleven that evening, the music faded, the banquet dispersed, and the guests gradually took their leave. Lu Hui wearily removed his suit jacket and glanced at his eldest son, who still looked full of energy. He felt a familiar, helpless headache coming on. The boy’s stamina was truly remarkable.
He asked offhandedly, without much expectation: “Every prominent family in the capital was here tonight. Did anyone catch your eye? You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
The reason this birthday banquet had been so lavishly orchestrated was also because Lu Yinbing had reached marriageable age.
Lu Xingyun, exhausted, gnawed on a chocolate stick, his eyelids drooping. He thought: Before, maybe there was someone. Now, probably not anymore.
“There is.”
“???!!!”
Both Lu Hui and Lu Xingyun’s eyes went wide with shock. Not far away, Lin Shuangwu also gaped in astonishment.
Lu Yinbing — the man whose eyes were pointed at the sky — actually had someone he favored?
Lu Xingyun figured it was typical of his brother to fall for someone so fast, but his brother could do anything, so it wasn’t entirely surprising.
Lu Hui pressed on eagerly: “Which family’s child? What’s their name? Are they an Alpha or an Omega? When do you plan to get married?”
Marriage? That question was too far off. Lu Yinbing hadn’t even considered the matter of marriage yet. But if Man Yu were to divorce Sheng Lin and propose to him instead, he supposed he wouldn’t turn him down.
“We’ll see.” He tossed out the words and headed upstairs.
Lu Hui felt a bit sheepish. He thought to himself: True, they should date for a while before getting married. Hasty arranged marriages were no good.
He and Yinbing’s mother had been just like that — after marrying, their personalities clashed, and they grew to resent each other. As long as things were fine on the surface, neither bothered with the other’s private affairs.
Lu Yinbing was in a fine mood that evening. He believed Man Yu should now be able to draw some comparison between him and Sheng Lin.
He reclined leisurely in the bathtub, warm water flowing over his muscular physique. Remembering the way Man Yu had looked when he was flustered — cheeks flushed pink, mouth agape, unable to speak — he turned the warm water to cold.
A Beta who had been neglected for years, despised by his own husband. Thank goodness there was kind-hearted Lu Yinbing to take care of him. Otherwise, sitting alone in that grand hall — how pitiful.
Could he be blamed for falling for Sheng Lin’s wife? Hadn’t Sheng Lin abandoned his own wife? He’d merely happened to stumble upon him and struck up a conversation, that was all.
So pretty today. Those rosy little lips — they’d probably split if stretched too wide.
Lu Yinbing felt himself going into heat again. He made yet another mental note to file a complaint about the Lu Corporation’s suppressants being skimped on.
Once the comparison was made, Man Yu should come to him sooner. Don’t make him wait too long. Oh, and remember to get a divorce — he wasn’t playing homewrecker.
A black business car streaked along the expressway late into the night, cutting a smooth, unbroken line.
Inside the car, the oppressive atmosphere lingered.
Sheng Lin had lost face at the Lu household today — which meant the entire Sheng family had lost face.
Chen Yanning pinned all the blame on Man Yu, berating him as useless, unable even to take proper care of her own husband.
The Sheng father and son sat with dark faces as well. No one spoke up for him — they clearly agreed with Chen Yanning’s assessment.
Man Yu, exhausted from a long day and tense for just as long, sat with his head bowed in defeat. He had no right to argue with Chen Yanning and no courage to do so either. The unreasonable reprimands had come too many times. Beyond fear and humiliation, he felt a bone-deep weariness — the exhaustion of not knowing when it would ever end.
He hoped Sheng Lin would, if only for the sake of his obedience these past few days, speak a single word in his defense. It was, clearly, a hope too unrealistic to entertain.
When Chen Yanning cursed him, he quickly apologized, hoping it would calm her down.
After Chen Yanning had vented all her anger on him, she finally fell silent.
Man Yu exhaled in relief. He wanted to touch his aching gland to ease the discomfort, but didn’t dare move — afraid of provoking her further. So he endured it the whole way.
It was strange. His gland had long since atrophied, yet recently it had been occasionally sore and swollen, as if tiny ants were crawling along the blood vessels around the gland, making it itch. It left him feeling unwell in some indefinable way.
The symptom had started when he began drinking the herbal decoction. His mother had warned him when he picked up the medicine that there might be some side effects. This was probably just the medicine causing trouble.