Song Zhian had never encountered any setbacks or difficulties growing up.

As the young master of the Song family, he had the head of the household, Song Feng, to back him up from above, and his older brother to clean up his messes from below. His path in the entertainment industry had been smooth sailing, a youth filled with glory.

But recently, it felt as if Song Zhian’s sky was about to collapse.

Despite his advanced age, Song Feng waited bitterly downstairs at the Bo Corporation every day. Song Xun was also busy to the point of exhaustion, going everywhere to beg for help, only to hit wall after wall, returning in disgrace.

When Song Zhian first returned to the Song residence, he was summoned to the study by Song Feng.

At that time, Song Feng’s hair was a mess of white, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes had deepened into gullies from the recent stress; he looked haggard and old.

Before Song Zhian could even open his mouth to ask what was wrong, Song Feng took out his cane and smashed it heavily onto his back. He used one hundred percent of his strength; after just a few strikes, mottled blood stains began to seep through on Song Zhian’s back.

Song Zhian looked at Song Feng in disbelief. From childhood to adulthood, Song Feng had never laid a finger on him, always doting on him as he grew up.

He opened his mouth to question Song Feng, his eyes full of shock.

Although Song Feng’s back was slightly stooped, he had remained strong in the past. Recently, however, he looked senile and decrepit, like a piece of withered wood. He looked down from above at his disappointing grandson, his chest trembling with rage: “Song Zhian! You still dare to ask me why? Think carefully about who you’ve offended recently!”

As soon as Song Feng spoke, Song Zhian instantly broke out in a cold sweat, suddenly recalling that man in the hallway that day.

“Grandpa, what are you talking about? I’ve been staying honestly on the film set recently, I haven’t gone anywhere…”

Song Zhian forced himself to speak through the pain in his back, panic in his voice. Song Feng’s face was grim: “Didn’t go out? If you didn’t go out, how did you provoke the Bo Corporation?”

“I thickened this old skin of mine to beg people everywhere, and only then did someone tactfully tell me that the withdrawal of funds from the Song family’s investments was the intention of that person at the Bo Corporation.”

With the flesh on his back beaten black and blue, Song Zhian’s mind involuntarily echoed what Bo Yu had said that day—

“Song Zhian, in three days, have Song Feng come see me. Otherwise, I think Song Feng knows very well what the Song family’s fate will be.”

No wonder. He had tried desperately to find people to inquire about the other party, but had absolutely no leads, as if this man had never appeared…

He should have realized sooner. It wasn’t that the other party was too obscure to track down, but rather that his status and position were at the very apex of the pyramid, making it impossible for ordinary people to even probe…

That was the Bo family, capable of blotting out the sky with one hand in Dongcheng. Song Zhian’s pupils constricted violently.

…

…

…

Bo Yu’s office was on the 22nd floor of the commercial building. The lighting was excellent, and the design was unique.

Song Zhian stood in the elevator, the wounds on his back throbbing faintly.

The transparent glass elevator clearly reflected the shadow of every person in this commercial building, busy and restless, rushing about everywhere.

Upon arriving at the 22nd floor, the view opened up wide. Bai Heng stood politely at the door, but his brows and eyes were arrogant and cold, devoid of expression.

Seeing Song Feng and Song Zhian come up, Bai Heng glanced at Song Zhian’s hand, then casually looked away.

According to the photos he had collected, Song Zhian had attempted to get handsy with Gu Qichi on set more than once. Bai Heng had even found conversations between him and his assistant.

If he remembered correctly, the other party had shamelessly claimed he would find Gu Qichi’s “sugar daddy” and delusionally thought he could replace him…

Bai Heng could even recall Bo Yu’s expression when he went to the office to submit this information—it was terrifyingly gloomy.

It seemed someone new was going to be unlucky today.

A half-genuine smile finally appeared on Bai Heng’s face as he said sincerely, “President Song, go on in. President Bo is waiting for you inside.”

“Good luck.”

After the door was pushed open, Song Zhian’s breath hitched.

The man was leaning lazily back in his chair, legs crossed. The cigarette in his hand slowly drifted white smoke, the ember flickering scarlet.

“Song Zhian?”

Bo Yu took a drag of the cigarette, blowing smoke rings into the air, calling his name in a tone with unclear meaning.

Bai Heng had originally intended to close the door and leave, but alarm bells rang loudly in his mind. Feeling uneasy, he honestly hid himself near the door, moving to a corner.

His sixth sense told him he had better stay here today, otherwise, if Bo Yu did something crazy in public, it wouldn’t be good.

Bo Yu lowered his eyelashes, propped himself up slightly with his elbow on the desk, and tapped on a recording on his phone.

Immediately, Song Zhian heard his own voice popping out of that small speaker. It was him running his mouth in a private room at a bar.

Every single word was recorded extremely clearly.

“Young Master Song, haven’t seen you out much lately. Why the sudden thought to have some fun today?”

“Here, standing here today are all the recent newcomers. Very clean. I saved them specifically for you to have a taste.”

In the recording, Song Zhian was likely drunk. The crisp sound of clinking glasses rang out. Song Zhian laughed and said something to the person opposite him, followed by the sounds of fabric rustling and movement. He must have chosen someone.

But very quickly, Song Zhian’s voice rang out again: “Tsk, Little President Zhao, your taste lately isn’t great. This kind of goods is far worse than before.”

“Sigh, isn’t this because we aren’t in Dongcheng? How can this place compare to Dongcheng? I kept your status in mind; otherwise, I have a few idols who just debuted over there who are worrying about not having a path forward. I just don’t know if you, Little Young Master Song, would be willing to give them a chance.”

Ambiguous wet sounds echoed from the phone. Song Zhian had likely kissed the person next to him, but only a few seconds later, he pushed the person away in irritation: “Not exciting enough.”

“The looks are just average too…”

He paused, as if remembering something, and spoke abruptly: “Did you find out about the thing I asked you to look into? That Gu Qichi in my crew, who exactly is his sugar daddy?”

Little President Zhao laughed awkwardly. To tell the truth, he had inquired, but all rumors regarding this small actor seemed like wind from an empty cave—baseless. The sugar daddies in those rumors were impossible to trace.

Thinking of this, he spoke tentatively: “Little Young Master Song, this Gu Qichi, what if he doesn’t have a sugar daddy…”

Before he could finish, he was coldly interrupted by Song Zhian. The other party drank another glass, his voice floating slightly: “Impossible. His sugar daddy even came looking for him, how could he not have one?”

“Tsk, Gu Qichi is quite the fine lover. With that person, he won’t even let me touch him…”

The CEO’s office suddenly fell into a dead silence. Bai Heng’s hands and feet went cold; he didn’t dare breathe loudly.

He hadn’t submitted this recording to Bo Yu…

He had no idea where Bo Yu got this recording. The situation was likely even worse than he imagined.

The recording continued.

Little President Zhao laughed apologetically: “This little celebrity really has no eyes. Having gained our Little Young Master Song’s favor, he still hangs himself on that crooked neck tree. Truly ungrateful. Besides, there are so many good-looking people in the entertainment industry, you don’t lack just him.”

Song Zhian sneered, getting even more drunk, and simply interrupted the other party, speaking to himself: “Heh, do you think any piece of trash can compare to Gu Qichi?”

“You haven’t seen him. You can’t find a second person in the entire entertainment industry better looking than him. Thin waist, long legs…”

Song Zhian laughed, his tone obscene, as if savoring a memory: “His ass is perky too. When he was filming that day, he kicked me. It landed right on my heart. That kick was really thrilling. No wonder his sugar daddy was bold enough to threaten me. Gu Qichi must be really thrilling in bed too. If it were me, I would definitely keep him well…”

He raised his glass and took another gulp: “Do you have any more medicine over there? Just that kind that f*cks people up. After this play is done filming, I absolutely have to tie him up and bring him back, discipline him properly…”

The recording stopped there. Nothing could be heard in the meeting room except the sharp intakes of breath from Song Feng and Song Zhian.

Bai Heng broke out in another cold sweat.

The deadly silence spread inch by inch. The air pressure around Bo Yu was extremely low, the cigarette between his fingers still flickering with scarlet light.

The curve of his lips was a smile that wasn’t a smile. His eyelashes lowered, his gaze falling on the phone, making it difficult to see the expression in his eyes.

But as Bo Yu’s most capable subordinate, Bai Heng knew very well that Bo Yu was enraged.

Song Zhian, as if seeking death, had thoroughly stepped on Bo Yu’s bottom line, provoking his killing intent.

“Song Zhian, who do you want to discipline?”

“If I recall correctly, I warned you not to entertain any delusions about Gu Qichi again.”

Bo Yu stubbed out the cigarette in his hand, a laugh spilling from his throat. Leaning forward, he tossed the cigarette into the trash can.

Darkness churned in his eyes, thick like ink that couldn’t be dissolved. His features were sharp, frighteningly cold.

Song Feng didn’t dare breathe. The hand holding his cane shook violently. He stiffly reached out and struck the back of Song Zhian’s knees, forcing him to kneel.

“Animal! How could you say such things! Apologize to Mr. Bo immediately!”

Bo Yu, however, didn’t care at all. He spoke airily: “Elder Song, don’t rush. Let him say it himself. Who does he want to tie up? Who does he want to discipline? And who does he want to send to his bed?”

“I am very curious.”

Just as his voice fell, Bo Yu picked up the crystal ashtray on the desk. Without any pause in his movement, he smashed it toward Song Zhian, who was kneeling on the ground.

Bo Yu’s aim was excellent. The crystal struck Song Zhian’s temple, instantly smashing open a sizable wound.

Scarlet blood slid down Song Zhian’s pale face. Following the momentum, the ashtray crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces. The large and small shards reflected dazzling light, and one could see the bright red mixed within them.

“Bai Heng, it’s getting late. Send word down that everyone can leave work early today. No one is allowed to remain in the company. Incidentally, take Elder Song downstairs, and call a few people up here.”

Cold sweat poured from Bai Heng’s forehead, his wrists trembling.

Bo Yu had been cultivating his character for so long in recent years that Bai Heng had forgotten that the rumors circulating in Dongcheng were not fake, but things that had actually happened.

Bo Yu’s methods were even more ruthless than the rumors suggested.

“Yes, President Bo.”

Song Feng panicked, kneeling wretchedly beside Song Zhian, his voice trembling as he begged, “President Bo, Little An was just confused for a moment, those words were just said in jest… President Bo, give him another chance, President Bo.”

“Bai Heng, aren’t you taking him down yet?”

Bo Yu glanced at Song Feng. His jawline was clean and sharp, and his entire being radiated an aura that warned strangers to keep away.

“By the way, if the old man still hasn’t given up hope, show him that document on your desk. Then he’ll know what should be done and what shouldn’t.”

That document was nothing else but the heinous things the Song family had done over the years.

Bo Yu had barely used any manpower to dig up Song Feng’s background completely—

Bribery, falsifying accounts, tax evasion—these went without saying. They had even done plenty of things like disregarding human life, kidnapping young girls, and forcing abortions.

If even one of these leaked out, the Song family could forget about maintaining their current glory.

Upon seeing the item in Bai Heng’s hand, Song Feng’s face turned mostly white. He almost collapsed on the ground, his lips trembling, completely terrified.

When he saw the door to Bo Yu’s office pushed open again and several burly men barge in, Song Feng’s legs shook, and his pants became wet.

Only now did Song Zhian completely panic. His beautiful face was covered in tear streaks, mixed with the blood from his forehead, looking particularly gruesome.

“Grandpa, Grandpa. I know I was wrong, don’t leave me, Grandpa…” Song Zhian tugged at Song Feng’s pant leg, his voice trembling, his face twisted beyond recognition.

But his words did not elicit any of Bo Yu’s pitiful sympathy. Song Feng was immediately dragged out by the bodyguards. Song Zhian was kicked several steps away, then kicked upright, his hands twisted behind his back.

The spot where he knelt changed, but coincidentally, he landed right on the glass shards that had just shattered.

The sharp, jagged fragments pierced into his flesh. Someone forced him down further, instantly turning it into a bloody mess. His black suit pants were soaked through, quietly spreading a patch of dark red.

Song Zhian’s expression changed. The immense pain twisted his face, his limbs became stiff, and he let out an indistinguishable roar of agony from his throat.

“Mr. Bo, Mr. Bo, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have targeted Gu Qi… no, I shouldn’t have targeted your partner. I beg you, give me one more chance, I’ll never dare to do it again…”

“Next time, next time I see him I will definitely kneel and apologize to him. Mr. Bo, spare me…”

The shards pierced deeper and deeper, almost damaging the nerves. Song Zhian’s heart beat uncontrollably, sharp ringing filled his ears, and immense dizziness made his head spin. He was on the verge of convulsing, tears mixed with snot flowing down his face, showing not a hint of his previously refined appearance.

Bo Yu tapped his fingers twice on the desk, looking down at Song Zhian imperiously, a light laugh with unclear meaning spilling from his throat: “What, you still think there will be a next time?”

Bo Yu gave a signal with his eyes. The person behind Song Zhian immediately forced Song Zhian’s face up so that he was completely exposed under Bo Yu’s gaze.

Bo Yu’s latest phone wallpaper was a photo of Gu Qichi sleeping. The young man was bathed in sunlight, his skin like snow, yet blooming with an alluring flush at his neck and collarbone. Most of his body was hidden under the covers, obscuring the view below. His face, however, was exquisitely refined, as if molded by Nuwa herself, without a single flaw.

Bo Yu had taken the photo close up, and the phone’s resolution was good; the tiny fuzz on Gu Qichi’s face was clearly visible. His lips were slightly swollen, and the small bite mark on them was particularly distinct.

The morning after—truly impulsive.

Bo Yu laughed lightly. It held no obscene meaning; it was cold as a sharp blade. The flash of the snowy blade was enough to penetrate the heart and lungs.

“Tell me, where did you touch him?” Bo Yu asked slowly.

“The foot?”

His gaze swept over Song Zhian, and he methodically took a Swiss Army knife out of the drawer. The knife was sharpened, the edge keen, the blade snowy bright. Bo Yu pressed the pad of his finger against it, and the skin was instantly sliced open. A bead of scarlet blood oozed out, but he didn’t care at all.

He just continued to stroke the knife absently, gently, as if treating a beloved lover.

“Was it exciting when my wife kicked you? Enough to make a piece of trash like you spawn so many ideas? Hmm?”

Bo Yu used his index finger to smear the blood from his thumb downwards, spreading a layer of blood evenly. The blade reflected his face—violent and gloomy, like an evil spirit from the depths of hell that had lost its reason.

Bo Yu played with the army knife, slowly stood up, and positioned himself in front of Song Zhian, his tone very light: “Where did he kick you?”

His gaze fell on Song Zhian’s chest. He looked at it leisurely and added, “If I heard correctly, it was the heart—”

As soon as the words fell, Bo Yu kicked Song Zhian in the chest. He held back none of his strength. The other party was kicked directly to the ground, head snapping back, hitting the floor with a muffled thud.

Pale yellow liquid trickled onto the floor. Song Zhian’s limbs were stiff, unable to move. Tears mixed with snot flowed into his mouth, salty and bitter. His pupils were somewhat unfocused and dilated. He struggled, trying to crawl up and kowtow, but was kicked again by Bo Yu.

This kick landed on his ribs. The room was deathly silent, quiet enough to hear a pin drop, so the clear sound of a bone fracturing was audible.

Pain spread through his limbs and bones. The muscles in Song Zhian’s calves spasmed uncontrollably, and he was on the verge of passing out.

Bo Yu stepped on his head, contemptuous and disdainful, high above like an emperor.

The Swiss Army knife in Bo Yu’s hand was also stained with a blur of crimson from the blood.

“How was it? I kicked your heart too. Was it thrilling this time?”

What a pity. He hadn’t touched blood in a long time. Why were there always blind things trying to defile what was his?

And such insignificant jumping clowns at that.

Thinking of the filthy thoughts the other party had used to fantasize about Gu Qichi, the anger in Bo Yu’s heart surged uncontrollably, burning his rationality.

The force on his foot increased. Looking at Song Zhian’s twisted face, Bo Yu clicked his tongue in disappointment, slowly shifted his position, and stepped on Song Zhian’s hand.

“Did this hand touch him?”

Bo Yu applied sudden force, crushing down hard. The army knife in his palm teetered, as if he couldn’t hold it steady.

Actually, he had touched him. Bo Yu had seen the photos. Even though Gu Qichi tried his best to dodge, Song Zhian still touched his face under the pretext of filming.

Maybe he touched even more places, only he hadn’t seen it. Bo Yu thought absently, Should I chop off his hands and feet? Dirty things should rightfully be destroyed.

The knife in his hand was a good tool.

“Ah—ugh!”

It felt as if the entire hand bone was being crushed. A layer of fine sweat seeped from Song Zhian’s forehead, and he twitched uncontrollably.

From his angle, he could only see Bo Yu’s shiny leather shoes and the man’s large hand.

Veins popped on the back of his hand, spreading upwards. His forearm muscles were tight and smooth, extremely powerful.

The blade of the army knife in his hand was sharp. Song Zhian saw it. It had cut Bo Yu’s hand quickly. If the blade pierced into flesh, it would only take a few seconds to slice open the blood and flesh, sever the meridians in the body, and let the blood flow freely.

Song Zhian was panicking beyond belief. A foul, fishy smell emanated in the space; the floor wasn’t very clean either.

Bo Yu withdrew his foot, looking down at Song Zhian who had passed out in front of him. The knife in his hand finally slipped, stumbling down to fall by the seam of Song Zhian’s trousers.

The person on the ground let out another muffled groan.

“Useless thing.”

Bo Yu tugged at his tie, undoing two buttons of his shirt as well.

The window behind him was tactfully opened by someone, and fresh air rushed into the room, dispersing the foul odor.

Bo Yu sat back in his chair, his expression relaxed.

Seeing the WeChat message from Gu Qichi on his phone, his expression finally improved slightly.

【Wife】: Bo Yu, thank you.
【Wife】: When are you coming home?

He raised his hand and typed a few lines: I’ve said it many times, no need to thank me.

Then he deleted it.

【Bo Yu】: Coming back immediately.
【Bo Yu】: Were you happy today?

Gu Qichi was likely busy over there and didn’t have time to reply to Bo Yu. Bo Yu didn’t get angry; he tossed the phone back on the desk and took a tin box out of the drawer.

It was unknown what was inside, but it made a clinking sound as it was shaken.

Bo Yu examined the box in his hand and said coolly: “Wake him up.”

Song Zhian was splashed awake with water, pain also assaulting his philtrum.

He was wet all over. The winter temperature was low, and his clothes stuck stickily to his body. The fabric seemed to seep into his festering wounds—a heart-wrenching pain.

Even though he didn’t want to, he heard Bo Yu’s demon-like voice again: “Do you recognize what this is?”

The exquisite small box made a crisp sound. Huge unease flooded his heart, and Song Zhian shook his head, trembling.

“President… President Bo…”

He couldn’t even speak clearly anymore.

“Weren’t you very curious about this kind of medicine? I specially found some for you, so you can taste what it’s like.”

The tin box was thrown by Bo Yu to the person waiting beside him. Song Zhian’s jaw was forcibly dislocated, and the medicine slid down his throat, forced down.

Foul saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth, and his jaw was snapped back into place.

Bo Yu rarely felt playful, but he made a tepid joke with Song Zhian: “Forgot to tell you, this medicine is a bit different from the kind you wanted.”

He picked up a pill. The small white disk pressed against his fingertip, oozing a blurry halo under the light. He crushed it into powder with force.

The fine white powder drew a smooth straight line in the air, falling straight into the trash can. Bo Yu picked up a handkerchief to wipe his hands clean, lifting his eyelids coldly.

“This medicine is the latest enhanced version developed. The efficacy is thirty times stronger than the previous kind. The person in charge told me that just one-eighth of the amount is enough.”

“You ate a whole pill directly; the effect should be a bit better.”

“I believe the researchers will be very happy to see your reaction. I trust you won’t mind contributing your strength to scientific research.”

Having finished speaking, Bo Yu withdrew his gaze, leaning back lazily in his chair, and said to the people behind Song Zhian: “Throw him out. Find a random hotel and lock him up for a day. Don’t let him go harm any men or women.”

“Throw that army knife away too. Something that’s become dirty doesn’t need to be kept.”

After everything was handled, Bai Heng finally came back in.

He lowered his head, his palms wet and sticky, quietly waiting for Bo Yu’s instructions.

President Bo was truly frightening today. For a moment, Bai Heng felt as if he had returned to four years ago, when the Bo Corporation was at its bloodiest.

Brothers fighting within the walls, a father without benevolence. There were no one who didn’t want to harm Bo Yu; they all wished Bo Yu would die sooner.

Hiring assassins, tampering with brakes, even poisoning his food…

tropes usually only seen in novels seemed commonplace for Bo Yu. At first, Bai Heng would collapse on the ground in panic. After that period passed, he actually began to feel that these methods were trivial matters, nothing worth being surprised about.

Time really changes a person unknowingly.

Bai Heng thought, Actually, Bo Yu was very merciful today. I thought I would see even more horrific scenes.

After all, the Bo Yu of a few years ago could truly be described as killing without blinking an eye.

Bo Yu was also examining his own hand—knuckles distinct, fair and slender. Aside from the tiny wound on his thumb, not a drop of blood stained it.

A bit of a pity, Bo Yu thought absently. Gu Qichi doesn’t like the smell of blood, nor does he like me using these methods in private.

In his heart, I should still be a law-abiding good citizen…

Just let that scum Song Zhian off cheap…

Bo Yu straightened up lazily. When his gaze fell on the puddle on the floor, he frowned uncontrollably, somewhat impatient: “This office can’t be used anymore. Find a company to renovate it again.”

“During the renovation, find me a suitable office location, or working from home isn’t bad either.”

The more he thought about it, the more he felt this was a wonderful idea. He could make more time to accompany Gu Qichi. Bo Yu became increasingly satisfied and added, “Renovate the office according to my wife’s preferences. If there’s anything you don’t understand, you can ask me first.”

Bai Heng noted everything down one by one, softly responding with a yes.

When Bo Yu finished giving instructions and didn’t mention his own punishment, Bai Heng breathed a sigh of relief.

On the way driving Bo Yu back to the Bo residence, Bo Yu finally received Gu Qichi’s WeChat message.

【Wife】: [Link]
【Wife】: [Link]
【Wife】: Bo Yu, do you want to go to the hot springs?

Bo Yu raised an eyebrow. Gu Qichi never spent effort on these entertainment activities. Compared to going out to play, he preferred to use his time to catch up on sleep.

And Bo Yu preferred to use his time on more meaningful things.

Like kissing and making love.

He replied jokingly:

【Bo Yu】: Why the sudden thought to go to the hot springs?
【Bo Yu】: Is there something fun there?

Gu Qichi on the other end of the phone trembled his eyelashes lightly, somewhat shy.

No one was in the villa; right now, he was alone. Only then did he dare to take out the box of things Bo Yu had bought to examine carefully, then hurriedly picked out two of the most practical items.

Not really “fun” things, but Bo Yu would probably like them…