[Heaven above, distinguish the loyal from the treacherous!]

Liu Yuebo was completely unprepared. He only felt a sudden chill as the cold, bitter iced Americano drenched his entire face.

The dark coffee streamed down his hair, soaking his upper clothes, and his pants were damp with pooled liquid — both pathetic and ridiculous.

In his extreme shock, Liu Yuebo froze on the spot, not knowing what to say or do.

Though his family background wasn’t quite on par with Lu Zhuonian’s, he was still the well-known young master of the Liu family in Beijing — when had he ever suffered such humiliation?

He glared at Chen Zemian. “You…”

Before he could finish, Chen Zemian flung the two brown cardboard cup holders with a sharp clatter, landing them right on Liu Yuebo’s head and cutting off his words completely.

It didn’t hurt, but it was utterly baffling.

Not just for Liu Yuebo — everyone was stunned. They all stared, wide-eyed, forgetting even the most basic etiquette, watching the absurd scene unfold before them.

Though the gazes weren’t malicious, to Liu Yuebo, drenched and humiliated, they were worse than the coffee — everyone was laughing at him.

Being openly challenged by someone beneath him in status was no different than being slapped across the face.

His skin tingled with stinging heat as his blood surged. Veins popped along his neck, his chest heaved with rage, and his face flushed purple and red, mixing with the dripping coffee to form a grotesque palette of colors.

He shot to his feet with a violent jerk, jabbing a finger inches from Chen Zemian’s face. “Have you fucking lost your mind? You looking for a beating?!”

“Pointing at people is terribly impolite, Young Master Liu. Besides…” Chen Zemian tilted his head slightly and, in a calm voice that could make Liu Yuebo explode from fury, added, “You can’t beat me.”

That pushed Liu Yuebo to the edge — he practically leapt up, swinging a slap at Chen Zemian. “Like hell I can’t!”

The conflict escalated in an instant, and gasps rippled through the crowd.

He Yinan and Xue Duo both stepped forward, trying to separate them, but they were too far away — Liu Yuebo was too fast. That slap, fueled by fury, was about to land squarely on Chen Zemian’s face. It was too late to dodge.

But Chen Zemian didn’t even try to avoid it.

Instead, he calmly raised an arm, caught Liu Yuebo’s wrist, and with just a light push — somehow — sent the tall, sturdy Liu Yuebo toppling back onto the sofa.

Before Liu Yuebo could even register what had happened, he was already lying in a puddle of coffee.

What just happened?

He missed the slap? Chen Zemian pushed him down? How was that even possible?

It had to be a dream.

Everyone watching felt like reality had cracked.

Liu Yuebo, unwilling to accept defeat, tried to get back up. But as he struggled, Chen Zemian lightly extended a single finger and pressed it against Liu Yuebo’s shoulder.

Instantly, Liu Yuebo was pinned down, as if nailed to the seat — no matter how he twisted, he couldn’t break free.

The scene was downright eerie.

Just one finger — slender, fair, with translucent skin so thin it almost showed blue veins in the sunlight — a single index finger had immobilized someone nearly 1.9 meters tall.

Though his upper body couldn’t move, Liu Yuebo’s determination to pummel Chen Zemian hadn’t diminished in the slightest.

He leaned back and, without hesitation, lifted a leg to kick Chen Zemian in the gut.

They were standing close, and the kick, delivered in a burst of rage, was full of force. If it landed, it could seriously damage internal organs — even rupture them.

If the slap was just venting anger, this kick was meant to injure.

He Yinan reacted quickly, grabbing Chen Zemian’s arm in an attempt to pull him away.

But when he yanked — he didn’t get a grip!

Where did he go?

He Yinan abruptly looked up, pupils shrinking sharply behind his glasses, disbelief flashing through his eyes.

He saw Chen Zemian calm and composed, raising a foot and stepping down hard on Liu Yuebo’s knee, forcefully stomping that earth-shattering kick right back down.

Chen Zemian leaned in slightly and pressed his middle and index fingers to Liu Yuebo’s sternum. Liu Yuebo was suddenly overwhelmed by an indescribable pressure and suffocation. His strength drained instantly — he couldn’t even speak, let alone fight back.

Before he could get up from the couch, he collapsed back into it, clutching his chest and gasping for air, eyes wide with shock as he stared at Chen Zemian.

One stood and one sat — Chen Zemian’s foot still rested on Liu Yuebo’s thigh.

Looking down from above, Chen Zemian’s eyes lowered. Though his expression was mostly neutral, the posture screamed arrogance.

Overbearing. Razor-sharp.

“Told you you couldn’t beat me,” Chen Zemian said calmly, his tone gentle and unhurried. “Want to try again?”

Liu Yuebo: “……”

Easy for him to say — how the hell is he supposed to try again?

Everyone exchanged looks, completely dazed by the whirlwind of reversals, unsure what to do.

He Yinan patted Chen Zemian on the shoulder. “Chen Zhe, let’s talk this out.”

Chen Zemian nodded in agreement. “Yes, we should speak properly.”

He Yinan was kind by nature — one of the rare nice guys in the rich kids’ circle. Back when Chen Zhe was being picked on, He had even stood up for him.

So Chen Zemian gave him some face, lifting his foot off Liu Yuebo and brushing the coffee splattered on his coat, casually saying, “Young Master Liu, a foul mouth is a sickness. It needs treatment.”

Liu Yuebo, still rattled, flinched instinctively when he saw Chen Zemian raise his hand.

“Don’t be scared,” Chen Zemian chuckled lowly. “Today I offered you iced coffee to cool off. Next time I hear you talking trash, I’ll serve you hot water instead.”

Everyone: “……”

Holy shit holy shit holy shit, has Chen Zhe lost his mind?

He never reacted like this to insults before. Is this one of those “breaking the silence with an explosion” moments?

This is terrifying!

Chen Zemian was stunning to look at — smiling like a blooming peony — and that made the contrast between his beauty and his ruthless behavior all the more frightening.

Something about his whole vibe felt off.

Not just a little off — criminally insane levels of off.

As the saying goes: the arrogant fear the crazy. These young masters and misses might be pampered and proud, but they treasured their lives. Who dared mess with a lunatic? If eight cups of hot water came pouring down on someone — even if they skinned Chen Zhe alive afterward, the one getting burned would still be them.

Chen Zemian pulled out two tissues and handed them to Liu Yuebo. “Wipe your face.”

Liu Yuebo took the tissues, his fingers trembling — whether from cold or fear, even he didn’t know.

Chen Zemian smiled warmly. “Say thank you.”

Liu Yuebo was truly scared now. “Th-thank you…”

“Good boy for realizing your mistake,” Chen Zemian said with satisfaction, leaning in and staring at him. “You still gonna badmouth me?”

Liu Yuebo shook his head vigorously.

Chen Zemian smiled.

What a good day — another successful lesson taught with reason. He’d corrected Young Master Liu’s foul language habit, after all.

Chen Zemian turned and walked toward Xue Duo.

Like Moses parting the Red Sea, the people on either side of Xue Duo scattered.

Instinctively, Xue Duo took a step back, cursing his cowardly friends inwardly: ‘I didn’t even say anything bad about Chen Zhe, why’s he coming at me?’

Chen Zemian hooked a finger around Xue Duo’s smart watch and gave it a little shake.

A lightbulb went off in Xue Duo’s head, and he instantly confessed, “I shouldn’t have tossed the watch at you like that. It was disrespectful.”

Chen Zemian tilted his head in confusion. “What are you talking about, Young Master Xue? I just wanted to ask what kind of coffee you’d like.”

“I—I don’t want any,” Xue Duo stammered, suddenly pressing his watch close to his chest. “Not thirsty anymore, Chen Zhe. Really. Anyone else want coffee?”

Like hell they would!

Xue Duo’s question vanished into the air—no one dared answer.

Chen Zemian said, “Then I’ll just buy whatever.”

Xue Duo grabbed Chen Zhe’s arm and ushered him to a quieter corner far from the others, like he was trying to calm a ticking time bomb. His tone was as gentle as a spring breeze: “I’ll go buy it. What do you want? I’ll get it.”

Chen Zemian held back a laugh. “Iced Americano.”

“Great, great, iced Americano it is. Fast and cold. Want any snacks?”

Chen Zemian shook his head.

Xue Duo looked like he’d been granted a royal pardon. Clutching his watch, he backed away at once.

Chen Zemian found it all amusing and couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

The others, hearing his sudden laughter, became even more convinced something was wrong with him—nobody even dared look in his direction.

The lounge fell into a long, uncomfortable silence.

Chen Zemian became the uncrowned king of that entire area.

—-

As Xiao Kesong came off the field and walked into the lounge, the rich scent of coffee hit his nose.

Chen Zhe sat alone in a far corner, while everyone else was huddled in small groups on the opposite side.

This scene wasn’t unfamiliar—normally, they didn’t mesh with Chen Zhe, and he didn’t feel comfortable sitting with them either.

But today… the awkwardness didn’t seem to be coming from Chen Zhe.

After what felt like forever, Xiao Kesong finally showed up, and the young heirs all turned to look at him. Their eyes held a strange, hard-to-describe complexity.

The atmosphere was tense.

Just then, Xiao Kesong’s phone vibrated. Someone had @ him in the second-gen group chat—

[@Young Master Xiao SOS, can you please do something about your little bro? He’s gone nuts.]

Xiao Kesong typed with one hand:

[You’re the one who’s nuts.]

After sending it, he frowned and looked at the others with obvious displeasure.

‘These people are so annoying. Bullying Chen Zhe behind his back again? And now gossiping about him in the group chat?’

‘Unacceptable.’

As he walked toward Chen Zhe, Xiao Kesong opened the chat and scrolled through the messages.

The group’s name was [Blessings to Share, Troubles to Ghost]. When it was first created, it only had a few close members. Over time, it grew with invite after invite until there were now over 200 members. A few were especially chatty. Xiao Kesong had long muted the notifications and only checked it when someone @ him.

Sure enough, once he clicked in, they were talking about Chen Zhe.

After skimming a few pages of messages, Xiao Kesong had a general idea of what they’d been saying—and found the whole thing completely baffling.

‘Chen Zhe splashed coffee all over Liu Yuebo and even beat him up?’

‘That had to be fake.’

‘If you’re going to make stuff up, at least make it believable—Chen Zhe, of all people, hitting someone? No way.’

In the group chat, someone @Xiao Kesong again:  

[@Young Master Xiao, did Chen Zhe get possessed or something? He’s terrifying. He wasn’t like this before.]

Others were chiming in with snide remarks:  

[He used to be an outsider. Now he’s a favorite under Young Master Lu. Young Master Liu just walked straight into the muzzle—tough luck.]

Xiao Kesong frowned and typed:  

[You guys really have nothing better to do, huh? At least come up with something remotely realistic. Chen Zhe doesn’t even know how to argue, let alone fight.]

Everyone who saw that message in the group fell silent.

What he said wasn’t wrong—Chen Zhe didn’t look like the type who could fight.

But he really could.

Even though his movements weren’t big or showy, just a few of them were enough to pin Liu Yuebo to the sofa and repeatedly overpower him. Liu Yuebo tried to stand up multiple times—and failed every single time.

Was this even a fight anymore?

It felt more like sorcery.

To back it up, someone posted a blurry candid photo in the group.

It was a side shot, a little fuzzy, but you could barely make out Liu Yuebo, his clothes soaked with dark, wet stains. His hair was also damp and stuck together in clumps—he really did look like someone who just got a whole coffee poured over his head.

Another blurry figure in the shot, seen from the back, seemed to be Chen Zhe.

Both of them appeared in the same frame.

Proof enough.

Besides, Liu Yuebo had a fiery temper. If this were all a lie, he would’ve jumped up to deny it long ago.

Xiao Kesong sat down next to Chen Zhe:  

“You dumped coffee on Liu Yuebo?”

Chen Zemian was quietly editing a few newly obtained gun specs. Without even looking up, he replied casually,  

“Mm. Slipped.”

[He slipped.]

Xiao Kesong replied solemnly in the group:

[It wasn’t on purpose. Let’s just let it go.]

After those two messages, the second-gen group chat fell into five full seconds of silence.

Everyone nearby slowly put their phones down and turned to look at Xiao Kesong.

Clearly wondering what kind of mental state he was in when he typed that.

‘Had Chen Zhe put him under some kind of spell?’

‘Please, Young Master Xiao—wake up!’