With a face like that, if he cried, it would surely be as beautiful as a painting.

“There’s some grilled lamb over there. You like it, right? Want to go and have a few skewers?” Chi Yao’s eyes sparkled, and with Shen Ling, his “white moonlight,” around, he seemed to completely ignore everyone else.

Shen Ling was in a good mood, so he smiled and nodded. “Sure.”

Chi Yao immediately turned and walked to Shen Ling’s left, positioning himself between Shen Ling and Fu Rong. Shen Ling walked ahead, while Chi Yao slowed his pace just a bit, effectively creating a barrier between Fu Rong and Shen Ling.

Chi Yao slightly turned his head, casting a sidelong glance at Fu Rong. It was his usual look—never meeting someone’s eyes directly, filled with obvious disdain and contempt.

Fu Rong’s eyes darkened as he looked at Chi Yao’s slender waist. Even though Chi Yao was wearing loose, casual clothes, Fu Rong could easily estimate how small his waist was—he could probably wrap one hand around it.

His gaze dropped slightly lower. Shen Ling had once told Fu Rong that his first impression of Chi Yao was that he resembled a small animal, like a Pomeranian—beautiful but with a fiery temper, glaring at anyone who displeased him.

But if it was someone he liked, he’d wag his tail like crazy.

In Fu Rong’s eyes at that moment, Shen Ling’s description was spot on. This little rival of his was glaring at him fiercely while simultaneously wagging his tail at Shen Ling.

Fu Rong couldn’t help but smile to himself.

Watching the two of them walk ahead, Fu Rong didn’t rush. Someone suddenly sidled up to him, trying to cozy up. Fu Rong paused. He didn’t really know the person but recognized him vaguely—someone who always seemed to hang around Chi Yao. Every time he saw Chi Yao, this person was there too.

The man said some polite words, his eyes shining as he looked at Fu Rong. But what Fu Rong saw reflected in the man’s gaze wasn’t his own image—it was a money tree.

For many people, someone like Fu Rong was indeed a money tree.

Fu Rong didn’t engage much, just giving a couple of indifferent responses. The man, sensing Fu Rong’s disinterest, realized that someone of his status wouldn’t care about small fry like himself. Still, just being able to exchange a few words with Fu Rong was a big deal to him.

After all, he’d only ever watched from afar before, never having the chance to approach Fu Rong.

Fu Rong eventually made his way to the grill, where he saw his little rival fawning over Shen Ling. Shen Ling was eating lamb, and the little rival immediately handed him a napkin. When Shen Ling said the lamb was delicious, the little rival smiled as if he had just won the lottery, with small dimples appearing on his cheeks.

With two beauties in front of him, Fu Rong sat down in a recently vacated chair, not wanting to interrupt, and quietly watched.

Someone handed him a skewer of grilled lamb, and to his surprise, it tasted quite good. He ended up eating two skewers.

There was alcohol on the table as well, and Fu Rong took a sip from his glass, when suddenly, he heard a cry of pain nearby.

Looking in the direction of the sound, he saw someone lying on the ground a few meters away, their forehead having hit the corner of a table, causing blood to gush out.

The injured person sat up, face twisted in pain, clutching his forehead tightly, but blood still oozed between his fingers.

The man, with fear in his eyes, was staring at someone—or more accurately, at Chi Yao.

Fu Rong immediately understood what had happened. Sure enough, it was Chi Yao who had kicked the person to the ground, causing the head injury.

Chi Yao’s light-colored clothes were now mostly soaked, red liquid staining them. Standing over the bleeding man, Chi Yao’s eyes were locked onto him, his whole body radiating a violent energy.

“I’m… I’m sorry…” the man on the ground stammered in apology, trembling.

Chi Yao’s lips curled into a cold smile as he suddenly stepped forward and delivered a vicious kick to the man’s chest.

The force of the kick nearly broke the man’s ribs.

Chi Yao bent down, grabbed the man by the hair, took a wine glass from the table, and splashed the wine in his face. The man struggled, but when he saw the terrifying look in Chi Yao’s eyes, he recoiled and let go.

Chi Yao was still furious. Once he was angered, calming him down was nearly impossible. Everyone around knew about his violent temper, secretly calling him a “mad dog.” Although they pitied the man being beaten, none of them wanted to get involved, so they just watched from a distance.

Chi Yao let go and stood up, but his clean clothes had already been dirtied by the man. His chest burned with rage, and just as he was about to continue kicking, a soft hand touched his wrist, stopping him.

The warmth of the fingers had once sent small electric currents through his body, but this time, Chi Yao felt nothing but coldness—like a deadly snake slithering across his skin.

Chi Yao yanked his wrist away and looked back at the slightly surprised Shen Ling. Only then did he realize what he had just done.

He thought to himself that he was clearly not cut out for acting. He’d tried to hold it in, but in the end, he couldn’t control himself.

Chi Yao didn’t offer any explanation, but he did stop. He walked away, turning his back to Shen Ling, and kicked a nearby tree. Leaves fell, and one landed on Chi Yao’s hair, but he didn’t notice. Lowering his head, he considered whether he should keep playing the act or find an excuse to leave. Having just returned to life, he was still adjusting. Seeing Shen Ling—who he once considered his “white moonlight” but now realized was more like a “black moonlight”—he knew that he had truly been blind before. He hadn’t seen the obvious manipulation right in front of him.

This man knew he liked him but never directly rejected him. He accepted Chi Yao’s pursuit and affection, playing with his feelings and carelessly toying with his heart.