A Scumbag Always Gets What He Deserves

18: Is the game fun?

Trapped in fear, Jian Qiao couldn't see anything.

The banquet hall was ablaze with lights, but it was pitch black before his eyes. The savage, fiend-like people who surrounded him were blocked by his subconscious mind. It was the most effective way to escape reality.

In a trance, his body kept falling, the current surged around him, cold water filled his nose and mouth, trying to snatch away his breath. Once again he'd returned to his earliest and most terrifying memory, experiencing the pain of being on the verge of death but unable to struggle.

Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice.

The voice firmly and forcefully ordered, "Let go of him!"

The whirlpools and rapids wrapped around Jian Qiao, dragging him into the endless abyss, disappeared in an instant. He felt his body suddenly lighten, and he immediately followed the sound upward, like a fish surviving a severe winter under the ice, desperately eager for sunlight and a trace of oxygen.

Finally, his eyes brightened, then all the light shot into his eyes, followed by the handsome face of Rege. The man was looking at him with furrowed brows, his expression very impatient.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a deep voice.

"I... I'm fine." Jian Qiao lay weakly on the sofa, a little alcohol on his lips, cold sweat on his forehead and nose. His whole person looked like he'd just been fished out of the water.

"When you're ready, come over and sit." Rege didn't reach for him or pull him up, but went to the opposite sofa where he sat down in his usual lordly posture. Then he stared at Jian Qiao and patted the empty place beside him.

Jian Qiao understood. He hastily propped up his weak body, staggered to Rege's side, and carefully sat down. He already felt relieved, but he didn't dare lean back on the soft pillows because that would make him look even more wretched. He could only straighten his back as much as possible and face everything that followed with the most composed expression.

He could have fled, locking up all the things that just happened with his terrible memories of the past. But Rege had come here, so he decided to stay. He had to finish this banquet with dignity.

The whole room was silent.

The drinkers stood frozen with their glasses; the smokers stopped puffing; the musicians paused their fingertips over the strings.

Everyone could feel the fury Rege was hiding under his calm exterior. His sky blue eyes darkened with his rising anger.

When Jian Qiao sat down beside him, he snapped his fingers at the attendant.

A glass of strong wine was immediately delivered to him, and he tilted his head and drained it in one swallow. His ruthless eyes were locked on Prince Andrew.

Prince Andrew couldn't withstand this kind of extremely oppressive gaze, and his mind had suddenly sobered up by more than half, so he smiled and explained, "You weren't here, we were having some fun with Jian Qiao. We just wanted him to finish a bottle of wine. We didn't go too far."

Rege didn't say a word, just lifted the empty glass of wine in his hand.

The attendant immediately refilled his glass with amber-colored spirits.

He slowly took a sip. With gloomy eyes he observed the cold sweat dripping from Jian Qiao, then asked, "Do you want to play with them?"

Jian Qiao didn't get a chance to answer. Prince Andrew's male favourite—that is, the heavily made-up, richly-dressed young man who'd grabbed Jian Qiao's hair before—grinned back. "It's an honor for him to play with us, why wouldn't he be willing?"