After Huoji and his gang of thugs laughed their way out, Gu Yanzu reached out to grab An Xiaoni’s arm. "Come here, sit."
An Xiaoni jerked her arm away in disgust.
"Playing hard to get? Don't be afraid. I’m a nice guy—come sit by me."
Ignoring her resistance, Gu Yanzu shoved her onto the sofa and turned to Marilyn. "Go on, dance. Entertain us."
Marilyn knew better than to refuse. She did whatever the patron demanded; if he wanted her to dance, she would dance. She kept a faint smile on her lips. She knew men like Gu Yanzu—rich, hedonistic heirs who could be grinning at you one second and treating you like trash the next.
Gu Yanzu picked up a bottle, poured himself a drink, and asked, "Little girl, have you ever slept with a man?"
An Xiaoni’s heart hammered against her ribs. She had never been asked such a lewd question in her life. She remained silent, her eyes darting around, searching for an escape.
Gu Yanzu set the bottle down. Staring at her terrified expression, he relied on the experience he’d gained from more women than she had eaten hot meals to conclude that she likely didn’t even know what a man was like. A smirk curled his lips.
"A little alcohol will help you relax. Everything has a first time, and I’m very gentle."
As soon as he said this, the men lounging around the sofa stifled their laughter. Some couldn’t hold it back, spitting out the drinks they’d just taken.
"Oh, oh, oh! Listen to Brother Zu! We all know just how wild you get in bed, don't we?"
"Just the other day, you nearly beat that girl to death—she ended up in the hospital! The bruises and rope marks were enough to make the doctor tremble."
"That’s right! He’s a machine—a man who goes ten times a night. No woman can handle our Brother Zu!"
"This girl looks like she’d break in a stiff breeze. She won't survive the night, especially with your 'special' tastes."
"Wanna bet? Can she make it until dawn? Come on, place your bets."
"I bet she can't."
"Same here. She won't last."
...
An Xiaoni: "!!!!!"
Her head buzzed. She could tell these people were absolute scum. Even as naive as she was, she understood perfectly well that they were betting on whether she would survive the night. Was her life going to end in this hellhole?
Trembling, An Xiaoni clutched the hem of her skirt, occasionally reaching up to protect her chest. Only when she felt the object still there did she breathe a sigh of relief. She watched them—each with a woman in his arms, reeking of alcohol, eyes unfocused—boasting and betting. She looked at the door; it wasn't far.
Gu Yanzu held his glass out to her, raising an eyebrow. "Have a drink, and it won't hurt as much, baby."
An Xiaoni stared at the glass, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Just then, the suite door opened. A waitress pushed a cart of drinks inside. As the door swung open and began to drift shut on its own, An Xiaoni seized the moment. With a sudden swipe, she knocked the glass from Gu Yanzu’s hand, splashing the contents all over his face.
Gu Yanzu reacted quickly, lunging to grab her arm, but in a panic, the girl snatched the bottle from the table and smashed it directly onto the top of his head.
"Ow!"
Gu Yanzu clutched his head as he roared, blood instantly streaming down from his scalp. The loud *bang* jolted the drunken men half-awake. The women shrunk away in terror. The other men scrambled to their feet, some stumbling back down when the sudden movement made them dizzy. They lunged toward An Xiaoni, shouting, "Damn it, kill that little brat!"
An Xiaoni turned and bolted, recklessly tipping over the waitress's drink cart as she ran. The floor became a chaotic mess of spilled liquor and shattered glass, blocking her pursuers. The waitress stood frozen in fear, and the women on the stage stopped dancing.
An Xiaoni ran for her life. "Help! Help me..." she screamed as she sprinted down the hallway. She realized quickly that crying for help here was useless; it might only bring more people to help catch her. She clamped her mouth shut, desperate and gritting her teeth, hunting for an exit.
This was the Super VIP section, a private zone for presidential suites; few people ever wandered here, and the corridor felt deathly quiet.
"Damn it! If I catch her, I’m going to screw her until she dies in that bed tonight!" Gu Yanzu roared, his voice hoarse and sharp with rage. The alcohol had evaporated from his system. He kicked a nearby chair, sending it clattering to the floor, and charged out, trampling over the glass and liquor. His face was twisted with fury, veins bulging on his neck. He was certain that even if the girl grew wings, she wouldn't make it out of Nevernight City.
They were calling for backup to seal the exits. Gu Yanzu’s teeth gnashed in frustration. It was the first time a woman had dared to smash a bottle over his head, and it was some little brat who hadn't even grown up yet.
The place was a labyrinth of twists and turns; An Xiaoni was becoming disoriented.
"Stop right there! Over there!"
Two men in security uniforms came running toward her. As expected, everyone here was in on it. Not a single good person.
An Xiaoni looked back. The group from the suite was closing in. She saw Gu Yanzu following behind, clutching his head, his eyes spitting fire, his face murderous.
She was doomed.
In a frantic panic, she saw a door. Loud music bled from behind it, and she guessed it was another suite. With men in front and men behind, being caught meant one thing: death.
In her desperation, she threw the door open, slipped inside, and shut it behind her, fumbling with the lock to see if she could secure it. She immediately realized how childish that was—suite doors didn't have deadbolts. She pressed her thin back against the door, holding it shut with all her might.
The music continued. She looked up and saw the dancers in this room seemed normal—at least their outfits covered the essentials. Her panicked gaze swept the room, and suddenly, she locked eyes with a man.
Under the dim, sultry lighting, he was sprawled in a dark green velvet sofa like a lazy leopard. His long legs were spread wide, the black dress trousers pulling taut across his hips in a dangerous crease. He exuded an aura that was both nonchalant and intensely oppressive.
He wore a simple black shirt, the collar slightly open to reveal an incredibly provocative collarbone. His sleeves were rolled up carelessly to his elbows, revealing glimpses of muscular, raw power. His face was like a meticulously crafted work of art, sharp and profound. His sword-like brows slanted toward his temples, and beneath them lay eyes as deep as a bottomless pool, currently locked onto the girl who had just burst in.
His gaze was searing, as if it could pierce right through her, filled with inquiry, curiosity, and a faint, hidden amusement. He tilted his head back, exhaling a thin ring of smoke that drifted over his chiseled jawline. The movement was fluid and elegant. He shifted his focus back to her, watching her silently.
The ember of his cigarette flickered between his long fingers. The noise of the room faded into insignificance; in this moment, his world held only this uninvited guest. The ash on his cigarette hung, teetering, in the seven steps of air between them. The clock ticked—a countdown to her doom.