[You’re drunk]

“Since you’ve managed to cozy up to Young Master Lu, this glass of wine should be my toast to you.”

The cold red wine splashed onto his face, chillingly cool.

The deep crimson liquid slid down, trickling along his cheeks, rolling past the sharp brows that slanted into his temples, over the high bridge of his nose, and hovering precariously on his thin lips, teetering on the edge of falling.

Disheveled and unkempt, yet it did nothing to diminish his striking features. Beneath the wine stains, his deep black brows and eyes stood out even more cleanly, his ethereal handsomeness shining through. The gaudy, drunken splendor of the room faded into the background, instead accentuating a breathtaking aura that left one’s heart pounding.

Chen Zemian wiped his face with the back of his hand, his consciousness slowly returning.

He felt a bit dizzy, his breath saturated with the scent of alcohol.

His mind wasn’t entirely clear either, as if he’d drunk heavily, yet it felt too real to be a dream.

He looked around, utterly bewildered.

What is going on? Isn’t he… isn’t he supposed to have died from overwork?

This was a lavishly decorated hotel private room.

A dazzling crystal chandelier, an extravagant gilded accent wall.

The round table was half-covered with used dishes, plates and bowls stacked messily, and nearby sat several bottles of expensive high-end red wine.

The room was filled with about twelve or thirteen guests, all turning their heads to look in his direction. Some stared at him, others at the unfamiliar man holding an empty wine glass in front of him. Men and women alike wore expressions of watching a spectacle unfold.

And there he was, drenched in wine, trapped in what was clearly an ill-intentioned gathering.

A terrible start.

Before Chen Zemian could take in more of his surroundings, a hand suddenly grabbed his collar and yanked him up forcefully.

“Don’t play dead. Weren’t you so smug when you were hanging around that group of young masters?”

The unfamiliar man glared at him, his expression dark and vicious. “I can’t touch Lu Zhuonian, but you think I can’t touch you?”

Chen Zemian’s brow twitched slightly, his heartbeat suddenly racing.

Lu Zhuonian?

Isn’t that the name of the protagonist in the novel he’s reading recently?

Seeing Chen Zemian raise an eyebrow, the stranger took it as provocation. His anger, fueled by alcohol, burned away his reason. Gritting his teeth, he cursed under his breath and swung a fist.

A young man with glasses nearby, seeing the situation spiral out of control, hurriedly stood up and grabbed the man’s arm, shouting in a low voice, “Wu Xu, let’s talk this out. Don’t start a fight.”

At the sound of the name “Wu Xu,” Chen Zemian held his breath, his pupils contracting imperceptibly for a moment.

Wu Xu—that is another character’s name from the novel.

One “Lu Zhuonian” could be a coincidence, but a second name, “Wu Xu,” showing up? That couldn’t be a coincidence too.

And this Wu Xu’s appearance and personality matched the description from the book perfectly.

He had a burly, robust build, a face covered in acne, and an impulsive, hot-tempered personality—a loyal lackey of a minor villain.

As the names of characters from the book kept popping up, Chen Zemian couldn’t help but feel a growing suspicion.

In his memory, he had clearly died. Yet now, he was sitting here alive, with characters from a novel appearing before him one after another. Combining all these clues, an absurd yet logical word naturally surfaced in Chen Zemian’s mind.

Transmigration.

He might have transmigrated—and into a novel, no less.

Before his sudden death, Chen Zemian had been the chief operations planner at a gaming company. To accurately gauge market trends, he was intimately familiar with the most popular games, anime, novels, and dramas of recent years. Naturally, he was no stranger to the well-known tropes of transmigration and “wearing” into a book.

The character Lu Zhuonian came from the novel “The Young Master of the Capital Circle”, a nearly seven-million-word behemoth that had exploded in popularity thanks to its tight plotting and exhilarating high points. It was the dark horse of this year’s male-oriented web novels.

Chen Zemian had recently been pulling all-nighters at work, analyzing the structural framework of this very novel. He’d only gotten through about a fifth of it, but he knew the early plot developments like the back of his hand.

But who had he transmigrated into?

From what Wu Xu implied, he seemed to be someone associated with Lu Zhuonian.

That was good news.

Lu Zhuonian came from an illustrious family with a powerful background. Among the influential young masters of the capital who could summon the wind and call the rain, he was the undisputed crown prince.

Surrounded by admirers and followers, he’d started his entrepreneurial journey in his senior year of college. From there, his fortunes soared, his rise unstoppable, until he ultimately achieved both fame and wealth. The other noble young masters either succumbed to his charisma, willingly becoming loyal followers, or fell to his brilliant strategies, reduced to cannon fodder and stepping stones for his triumphs.

Chen Zemian was adaptable by nature and felt his luck wasn’t half bad. Transmigrating as one of Lu Zhuonian’s lackeys was far better than ending up as some random side character.

Since everyone around Lu Zhuonian is a young master, then… he is probably a young master too, right?

With his thoughts sorted, Chen Zemian felt a plan forming in his mind.

In the novel, Wu Xu was the lackey of Xu Shaoyang, the second young master of the Xu family.

If the lackey was bold enough to provoke him, the boss must be present too.

Chen Zemian raised his eyes, looking past the crowd straight toward the head of the table.

There sat a young man in his early twenties, wearing a dark blue GUCCI floral-embroidered wool sweater. A beautiful woman in a rose-colored miniskirt clung to his arm. His demeanor was frivolous, his arrogance palpable.

Chen Zemian understood at once.

This had to be Xu Shaoyang, the second young master of the Xu family, no doubt about it.

Xu Shaoyang was thoroughly enjoying the show, watching with keen interest. His eyes met Chen Zemian’s for two seconds, and he unconsciously straightened his back, sneering, “Forget it, Wu Xu. Even beating a dog depends on who its master is.”

“True, beating a dog depends on the master,” Wu Xu said, narrowing his eyes at Chen Zemian with a cold scoff. “So, are you a dog?”

Chen Zemian withdrew his gaze and replied calmly, “I’m your daddy.”

Wu Xu’s eyes widened, the veins on his forehead throbbing violently. In an instant, he swung his fist.

Chen Zemian tilted his head slightly, kicked off with both feet, and sprang up from the chair in one fluid motion. Twisting around, he grabbed a bottle of red wine from the table, weighed it in his hand, then raised it high and swung it down hard.

The bottle whistled through the air and smashed onto Wu Xu’s head.

A deafening *clang* rang out!

Glass shattered, and red wine splashed everywhere.

A trickle of dark red ran down Wu Xu’s forehead—whether it was blood or wine, it was impossible to tell.

Wu Xu shook his head, touched his wet, warm forehead, cursed loudly, shoved the people beside him aside, and charged at Chen Zemian.

Though Chen Zemian was drunk, his reflexes and combat skills remained sharp.

His father had been a SWAT officer, and ever since Chen Zemian could walk, he’d been trained in various fighting techniques by his dad. After over twenty years of practice, it had become second nature. Even with his mind dulled by alcohol, he could fight blindfolded, instinctively sensing the direction of an attack.

When it came to a brawl, he’d never feared anyone.

Facing Wu Xu’s sudden assault, Chen Zemian didn’t dodge or retreat. He bent his knee, raised his leg, and delivered a swift kick to Wu Xu’s chest, sending him flying back cleanly.

He hadn’t held back with that kick. Wu Xu was launched far, only stopping when he crashed into a table.

In his panic, Wu Xu yanked the tablecloth down with him, sending bowls, plates, spoons, and chopsticks clattering to the floor in a chaotic mess.

A table’s worth of lukewarm leftovers and cold dishes rained down on him, soup and sauces soaking him through. He looked utterly pathetic.

Xu Shaoyang’s expression darkened dramatically.

Beating a dog depends on the master—Chen Zemian had just beaten Wu Xu in front of everyone, and it was a blatant slap to Xu Shaoyang’s face, the second young master of the Xu family!

No one had expected the situation to escalate into a fight so suddenly. The abrupt turn of events left everyone stunned, rooted to the spot. Hearing the commotion, bodyguards from outside the room streamed in, fanning out to surround Chen Zemian in a pincer movement.

“Are you insane?” Seeing the bodyguards arrive, Xu Shaoyang steadied himself, slamming the table as he stood up. “Who do you think you are? You dare act so insolent in front of me?”

Chen Zemian’s expression remained blank. “I’m being insolent. What can you do about it?”

Xu Shaoyang had never been so blatantly defied before. His hands trembled with rage. “You… you bastard, a lowly illegitimate child born from trash. Do you really think Lu Zhuonian will protect you?”

The word “illegitimate” hit Chen Zemian like a wave, making him dizzy.

What?

He hadn’t transmigrated into a young master! This was too low a starting point.

The story of The Young Master of the Capital Circle revolved around the second-generation elites of the capital. Rarely did it feature characters from common backgrounds. Even someone as insignificant as Wu Xu, cannon fodder among cannon fodder, came from a family in the real estate business. Though their status paled in comparison to Lu Zhuonian or Xu Shaoyang, elsewhere, people still had to respectfully address him as “Young Master Wu.”

In a novel where 99% of the characters were young masters, he had somehow ended up as a powerless, illegitimate nobody!

This luck was just too rotten.

Who the hell has he transmigrated into?

Chen Zemian’s mind was a fog. He just wanted to figure out his identity as quickly as possible and had no interest in wasting more time with Xu Shaoyang.

He casually brushed off the few bodyguards Xu Shaoyang had sent to stop him and strode out of the private room.

—-

To Xu Shaoyang and the others, it looked like Chen Zemian was possessed by some war god. With one kick per guard, he sent them sprawling, then broke through the encirclement and swaggered off.

Inside the private room, an eerie silence fell.

Everyone thought to themselves, The Lu family’s influence is truly something else. Even a dog they raise is this arrogant… and this good at fighting!

Xu Shaoyang’s face alternated between pale and livid. After a long moment, he smashed a wine glass to the ground. “Lu Zhuonian, just you wait! You and I are irreconcilable!”

—-

Meanwhile, in the corridor, Chen Zemian had no idea he’d unintentionally stirred up a massive grudge for the protagonist.

He was busy trying to decipher the signs.

He was slightly lost.

The high-end private restaurant boasted an antique-inspired design with strong privacy features—bamboo groves for cover, small bridges over ponds, and winding corridors that twisted and turned. Even the signs were elegant, styled like riddles, eschewing simple directions like “east” or “west” for cryptic terms like Gen, Li, Dui, Kan. ^[1]In Chinese, Gen (艮), Li (离), Dui (兑), and Kan (坎) are the names of four of the eight trigrams (八卦 – bāguà) used in Taoist cosmology, philosophy, divination. Gen: Northeast. Li: … Continue reading

And they weren’t even written as characters—just carved horizontal lines.

These pretentious, over-the-top flourishes screamed the kind of place the original author had spent pages describing: a “members-only,” “two-month advance booking required,” “3,000 yuan per person minimum,” “only eight tables served daily,” “no entry without elite status,” yet “the best private room is always reserved for Lu Zhuonian” sort of upscale private restaurant—

Lushui Pavilion.

If the original body hadn’t drunk so much, Chen Zemian might’ve been able to deduce which direction these markers pointed to, find a bathroom, and use his reflection to figure out who he’d transmigrated into.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t even find his way now.

Back in the private room, the fight had been urgent. Adrenaline had surged through him, temporarily suppressing the alcohol’s effects. But now, out of danger, the drunkenness hit him twice as hard. His head spun, and everything felt hazy.

Unable to find a mirror, Chen Zemian wandered half a circle until he stumbled upon a koi pond. He decided to use the water’s surface to check his reflection.

He crouched down, and a strikingly handsome face appeared on the water.

The moment he saw the reflection clearly, Chen Zemian was slightly startled.

This face was like his, yet not quite.

The person in the water looked younger, more vibrant. The profile was pale and cool, the features excessively refined, the lines softer and less sharp than his own, carrying a distinct charm.

At first glance, it seemed similar, but upon closer inspection, it was clearly someone else.

It’s a bit too good-looking.

Chen Zemian touched his hair.

How did it end up dyed a light golden blonde, like some little idol?

Wait, wait, something’s not quite right.

He leaned forward again, tilting his head, and spotted a small red mole on the side of his neck.

The mole was positioned cunningly—perfectly placed, like the finishing touch on a dragon painting, sparking all sorts of dreamy, romantic notions.

Seeing this mole, Chen Zemian finally realized who he was.

In the novel The Young Master of the Capital Circle, there were countless stunning men and women, but only one man was both breathtakingly beautiful and marked by a red mole—

Lu Zhuonian’s lackey, Chen Zhe!

If the protagonist Lu Zhuonian was the coolest and most exhilarating male character in the book, then Chen Zhe was the most beautiful and most tragic.

The original text spared no effort in describing Chen Zhe’s appearance. To highlight his beauty, the author even quoted an ancient text: “Crimson silks bloom like flowers, A bewitching face gleams like jade.”

Chen Zhe came from the lowest of origins, an illegitimate child hidden from the light, bullied relentlessly since childhood. But he was good-looking, adept at reading people, and skilled with words, always managing to charm the young masters. Gradually, he wormed his way into Lu Zhuonian’s circle.

He knew the young masters looked down on him, so he worked doubly hard to please them—diligent, ever-present, at their beck and call. Yet they never took him seriously.

The young masters ordered him around, toyed with him, mocked him, humiliated him.

And the reason Chen Zhe suffered all this in the book? His appearance was too striking, which sparked dissatisfaction among some readers.

In the chapters where Chen Zhe appeared, they flooded the comments with criticism:

[The lackeys around the protagonist are either powerful, influential, or rich. What right does this Chen Zhe have to join the protagonist’s elite circle just because he’s good-looking? Terrible values—reported.]

[This dumbass author is creating appearance anxiety. Disgusting.]

[Lu Zhuonian is a decisive, cold, and steady leader, yet he lets his friend drag a useless pretty boy into his circle? Major logical flaw, inconsistent characterization.]

[I can already imagine how Chen Zhe’s going to drag the protagonist down later. What’s the point of setting up this frustrating plot?]

[Chen Zhe, a guy, climbs the social ladder just because he’s pretty, reaping rewards without effort. The values this promotes are twisted—negative score.]

After receiving a flood of negative feedback, the original author, desperate to appease the readers, stayed up all night revising the story. In the new chapters, they clarified that the young masters only kept Chen Zhe around for amusement and didn’t see him as a friend. They even added more scenes of the young masters looking down on him and messing with him.

This chapter not only appeased the outraged readers but also unexpectedly earned a slew of tips.

Thus, it was as if the author had cracked the code to popularity. In the subsequent plot, they frequently dragged Chen Zhe out to torment him a bit more.

Chen Zemian couldn’t understand why someone would have to endure so much inexplicable malice just for being good-looking.

When he was analyzing the novel’s structure, he specifically marked this plot point with a question mark.

Later, during a meeting discussion, his colleagues laughed and said, “Chief Planner Chen is so handsome himself—of course he can’t understand why those people got so triggered.”

Chen Zemian truly didn’t get it then, and he still didn’t get it now.

The benefits of being good-looking were too numerous to count, but no one had ever bullied him for his looks.

So why should Chen Zhe have to endure all this?

Staring at the reflection in the water, Chen Zemian mentally cursed out every one of the young masters in the novel who had tormented Chen Zhe.

He wasn’t as easy to push around as Chen Zhe. He had plenty of strength and tricks up his sleeve.

As Chen Zemian silently made this vow, he suddenly heard footsteps approaching from the end of the corridor. He immediately turned to look.

It was a tall, handsome man.

Seeing it wasn’t Xu Shaoyang or his crew, Chen Zemian relaxed his guard and gave a friendly smile.

—-

Lu Zhuonian stepped around the corridor and saw Chen Zhe squatting by the koi pond, looking over with a mix of surprise and unease, his eyes brimming with wariness.

He paused briefly, raising a hand to signal the bodyguards behind him to stay back.

Chen Zhe hadn’t been in the elite circle for long. He’d been brought in by Lu Zhuonian’s friend, Xiao Kesong.

Xiao Kesong often dined at a certain hotel where Chen Zhe worked. Sometimes, when their paths crossed, Chen Zhe would help park Xiao Kesong’s car. Over time, they grew familiar.

Xiao Kesong thought Chen Zhe was good-looking, clever, and amusing, though anyone with sharp eyes could tell Chen Zhe was deliberately currying favor.

Someone had dug into it: Chen Zhe had bribed the security guards in advance. Every time Xiao Kesong’s car arrived, they’d tip Chen Zhe off, orchestrating these “chance” encounters.

Xiao Kesong didn’t mind, saying, “That’s why I say he’s clever.”

Plenty of people approached with ulterior motives, but managing to charm Xiao Kesong into willingly bringing him along was a skill in itself.

Lu Zhuonian, however, hadn’t spoken much to Chen Zhe.

They weren’t close.

The capital’s princeling circle, led by Lu Zhuonian, was notoriously hard to break into. It was always the same few faces, so a new one like Chen Zhe stood out.

Outsiders assumed Chen Zhe had latched onto Lu Zhuonian, and people like Xu Shaoyang—who couldn’t touch Lu Zhuonian—picked Chen Zhe as an easy target instead.

Normally, a single Chen Zhe wouldn’t warrant Lu Zhuonian’s personal attention. But Xu Shaoyang’s actions were particularly vile. If Lu Zhuonian didn’t step in today, his rivals might take it as a cue to follow suit, and Chen Zhe would never know peace.

Though Lu Zhuonian wasn’t exactly overflowing with kindness, he couldn’t just stand by and watch someone suffer collateral damage because of him.

Especially this Chen Zhe… who didn’t seem all that equipped to handle being bullied.

He stood out a bit too much.

In the dazzling realm of fame and fortune, beautiful faces were so commonplace they were practically a dime a dozen. 

Yet, despite having witnessed a veritable parade of stunning individuals, Lu Zhuonian found that they all still fell noticeably short of the breathtaking beauty Chen Zhe possessed before him now – a beauty that transcended the merely attractive.

Perhaps it was because Chen Zhe was drunk, looking different from usual. He seemed even more eye-catching.

As he turned to face Lu Zhuonian, the tension in his back was palpable. His bright, sparkling eyes, however, held an unfocused gaze, clouded and distant as if shrouded in fog. A faint flush painted his cheeks and the delicate corners of his eyes.

About half a second later, Chen Zhe suddenly smiled at him.

Lu Zhuonian’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.

Definitely different.

Chen Zhe had smiled at them plenty of times before, but those smiles were cautious, ingratiating—pretty, but fake. Nothing like this vivid, genuine one now.

When Xiao Kesong talked about Chen Zhe, he often said the guy was exceptionally beautiful, a feast for the eyes.

Lu Zhuonian had met him later and thought, ‘Eh, he’s alright.’

Seeing him again today, Lu Zhuonian had to admit Xiao Kesong was right.

Chen Zhe really was a feast for the eyes.

Especially after just seeing Xu Shaoyang and Wu Xu, those few ugly things, Lu Zhuonian found Chen Zhe even more pleasing to the eye.

Naturally, Xu Shaoyang wouldn’t tell Lu Zhuonian that his bodyguards had been thoroughly thrashed by Chen Zhe. Instead, he gritted his teeth and said Chen Zhe had run off, adding a snide remark: “Young Master Lu sure has a grand flair, bringing so many people just to chase down a little lackey.”

Lu Zhuonian glanced at Wu Xu’s bleeding head and thought to himself that Chen Zhe, usually so cautious and reserved, must have been pushed to the point of smashing a bottle over someone’s head. That showed just how far Xu Shaoyang had gone.

“Did they force you to drink?” Lu Zhuonian’s voice was slightly cold, his gaze lingering for two seconds on the wine stains on Chen Zhe’s shirt. “Did they lay hands on you?”

Chen Zemian heard someone speaking to him. His eyes moved slowly, but his gaze remained unfocused.

The man was patient and repeated, “Did they lay hands on you?”

Chen Zemian, like a computer booting up at a snail’s pace, took half a day to spit out a single word: “No.”

Lu Zhuonian found it somewhat amusing and countered with a statement disguised as a question: “So Wu Xu just smashed his own head?”

Chen Zemian nodded vigorously, resolute. “Yes.”

“You’re drunk,” Lu Zhuonian concluded Chen Zhe’s state in two sentences, raising a hand to signal the bodyguards behind him. “I’ll have someone take you to the hospital for a checkup.”

Chen Zemian, of course, wasn’t about to go off with strangers. After a delayed reaction, he stared at the tall, handsome man in front of him and finally thought to ask, “Hey, handsome, who are you?”

Lu Zhuonian ignored Chen Zhe’s question and instructed the bodyguards, “Take him to the hospital.”

A bodyguard stepped forward, bowing his head. “Yes, Young Master Lu.”

Young Master Lu?

At this title, Chen Zemian jolted, the alcohol clearing from his system by more than half. “Lu Zhuonian?!”

This is Lu Zhuonian?

Just then, a phone ringtone sounded.

Lu Zhuonian glanced at his phone, turned, and walked through the corridor to a quieter spot to answer the call.

It was Xiao Kesong.

“Zhuonian, did you find him?” Xiao Kesong had heard Chen Zhe had been taken by Xu Shaoyang’s people. He’d originally planned to come himself, but something came up at home, so he’d asked his good friend Lu Zhuonian to handle it. Growing anxious after waiting without updates, he asked, “Is Chen Zhe okay?”

Lu Zhuonian replied, “He seems fine.”

Though Xiao Kesong had known Lu Zhuonian for years, it was still hard to gauge Chen Zhe’s condition from these words. “I just tried calling him, but he didn’t pick up.”

“He’s drunk,” Lu Zhuonian said, pausing before adding, “He’s completely out of it.”

“I’m not out of it.”

A beautiful, wine-scented head suddenly popped up, peeking over Lu Zhuonian’s shoulder.

Lu Zhuonian’s fingers curled around the phone, his pupils contracting slightly. Shocked, he turned to face Chen Zemian, whose head was hovering dangerously close to the phone.

Chen Zemian squinted, struggling to focus his gaze on Lu Zhuonian’s eyes. Unhappy, he repeated firmly, “I’m not out of it.”

Lu Zhuonian: “…”

Xiao Kesong heard Chen Zhe’s voice through the phone and called out, “Chen Zhe?”

Chen Zemian let out a puzzled “Hm?” Vaguely hearing someone calling his name, he leaned in closer to the phone, his ear brushing against the back of Lu Zhuonian’s fingers.

Lu Zhuonian flinched subtly, as if scalded, his back tensing unconsciously. He didn’t know how to react.

No one had ever gotten this close to him before.

Lu Zhuonian disliked physical contact with others. People who knew him wouldn’t dare approach so carelessly, and strangers didn’t even get the chance to come near him.

So how did Chen Zhe get over here?

Where were his bodyguards?