On the day Tian Baozhen got engaged to Bao Desheng, he went too.
A light drizzle fell from the sky as he paced back and forth outside the entrance.
He was still wearing that short shirt—his most presentable piece of clothing—now soaked through by the rain, clinging tightly to his frail frame, making him look all the more pitiful.
After pacing for a while, he finally steeled himself, lowered his head, and made to charge inside.
But the moment he stepped onto the stairs, a doorman stationed at the lobby entrance reached out to stop him.
"Sir, may I see your invitation?" The doorman bowed slightly, his smile polite and practiced.
"Oh, just here for a meal, just a quick bite."
His heart wavered, his head drooped further, and his voice trembled shamefully.
The doorman kept smiling but took a subtle step forward, his chest blocking the way.
"Apologies, but the banquet has reserved the entire venue today. We’re not accepting walk-ins."
"I just need to find someone—I’ll be quick, really, just—"
The doorman gripped his shoulder and, with restrained firmness, gently pushed him back.
"Sir, please cooperate. Don’t make things difficult for us."
Blocked once more, his stubbornness flared, and his face burned with humiliation.
Summoning all his strength, he shoved the doorman aside and tried to force his way in.
The doorman, now irritated, planted both hands against him and shoved him out the door.
His feet slipped, and he stumbled, tumbling down the steps and landing squarely in a muddy puddle, his backside thoroughly soiled.
When he looked up again, several security guards had arrived at the commotion, standing like sentinels on either side of the entrance, arms crossed, chests puffed, staring down at him with contempt.
His chest burned with frustration, but outnumbered, he knew he stood no chance. In the end, he picked himself up, muttering under his breath as he shook out his wet pants and shuffled away, step by step.
The rain grew heavier.
He bought a flatbread and crouched under the awning of a small shop across from the restaurant, sheltering from the downpour.
The wind blew, chilling him. He hugged himself, shivering, the pain from his earlier fall throbbing faintly.
Between bites, he kept looking up, watching for when the banquet would end, waiting for Bao Desheng to be alone.
He stuffed the bread into his mouth, chewing roughly, forcing himself to swallow along with his anger, repeating to himself over and over that he had to gather his strength.
But why he needed to gather his strength, even he couldn’t quite say anymore.
It was nearly midnight when the banquet finally ended.
Among the scattering guests, he saw Tian Baozhen supporting Bao Desheng as they walked out.
Bao, his belly protruding, had a leather bag tucked under his right arm while his free left hand wandered restlessly before settling on Tian Baozhen’s backside, giving it a firm squeeze.
Tian Baozhen’s face stiffened, but only for an instant. In the blink of an eye, she adopted a coy, coquettish demeanor, twisting her hands bashfully, feigning shyness—only fueling Bao’s boorish delight.
After seeing Tian Baozhen off, Bao Desheng went with his cronies to continue drinking at the night market.
He followed them all the way to the food stalls.
Within half an hour, their late-night feast was in full swing—drinking, bragging, their laughter growing louder, their language filthier by the minute.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. After steeling himself, heart pounding, he strode up to their table.
"Hey, what’s up?"
Bao Desheng looked puzzled but remained polite.
He froze, realizing he didn’t actually know what he wanted to do.
Yes, he had been fixated on confronting Bao Desheng—but now that he stood before him, he remembered it was Tian Baozhen who had left him first.
Still, days of pent-up resentment had to go somewhere.Yes, his falling out with Tian couldn’t possibly be his own fault—he hadn’t done anything wrong. After much deliberation, he concluded it must be Bao Desheng meddling behind the scenes, and his resolve hardened once more.
"You can’t marry Baozhen."
Bao Desheng’s face was flushed from drinking, his hand still gripping a glass, utterly bewildered.
"Why not?"
Convinced Bao was feigning ignorance, anger surged within him, and he snatched the glass away.
"You’re not worthy!" For some reason, his voice cracked, ruining any semblance of intimidation. "You two aren’t suited at all. You—you don’t understand her in the slightest!"
Bao Desheng leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes.
"Oh? Then tell me, who is worthy? Who understands?" He tapped the table with two fingers. "I always knew there was something between you two. Out with it—what’s your relationship?"
"We’re from the same hometown. We struggled our way up together."
"I see."
Bao nodded, unzipped his bag, pulled out a wad of cash, and slapped it onto the table.
"Compensation."
"This isn’t about money!"
"It’s always about money." Another stack followed, Bao’s expression growing increasingly disdainful. "Still not enough?"
"Bao Desheng, don’t get too cocky. You’re nothing without your uncle’s backing. What are you on your own?"
The words struck a nerve. Bao Desheng glanced around, then with a snarl, grabbed all the cash and hurled it straight into his face.
"Take it and get lost! Stay away from Ah-Zhen from now on!"
The sudden assault left him dazed.
As he regained his bearings, he noticed a man at the next table had stopped drinking and was watching them—a lean face, half-smirking.
His expression twisted. Desperate to salvage his pride, he spat,
"How dare you humiliate me!"
He lunged for Bao’s collar, but the odds were against him. Bao’s friends shoved him back, sending him sprawling to the ground, his only shirt now filthy.
"You threw the first punch."
Bao Desheng stood up, belly protruding, a heavy gold chain resting on his chest.
Glancing around, he grabbed a bottle, screaming as he charged forward—but his arm froze mid-swing.
"Go on, hit me!" Bao tilted his head, pointing at his own temple tauntingly. "Got the guts? Aim right here!"
His hands trembled with rage, but a sliver of reason held him back. He couldn’t actually do it.
"You’ll pay for this—"
Scanning the room, he noticed the man at the next table had fully turned now, studying him with keen interest. A scar above his left eyebrow twitched—mocking, as if betting he was nothing but a coward.
His blood boiled.
Gritting his teeth, he smashed the bottle against the table, sending shards flying and the crowd recoiling.
Ignoring the cuts on his hand, he brandished the jagged neck at Bao Desheng, advancing step by step, and uttered the words he’d regret for the rest of his life.
"Watch your back at night. I’ll kill you!"
His eyes snapped open, his head still pounding.
After the humiliation at the food stall last night, he’d spent every last cent on alcohol, returning home in misery. Locked in his room, he drank until he vomited, then drank some more, finally collapsing into a fitful sleep.
Bang bang bang.
The door shook violently.
Hair disheveled and barefoot, he cracked it open.
Tian Baozhen stood outside, her eyes red-rimmed but her face pale and cold. She wore the same dress from yesterday’s engagement, now wrinkled, as if she’d thrown it on in a hurry.
"Baozhen?" His eyes widened, then he remembered he was supposed to be angry and turned away. "What are you doing here?"
Scratching his stomach, he shuffled back inside, muttering,
"Still coming to see me, huh? Won’t your precious Bao-ge mind?"Tian Baozhen's teeth chattered with rage as she rushed over and slapped him across the face.
"You've really done it now," she trembled violently, as if seized by a fit. "Daring to kill someone!"
"What? Kill who?"
"Stop pretending! Everyone who drank with you last night can testify!"
"What nonsense is this?" He pressed his left hand to his stinging, swollen cheek while his right reached for a cup of water, his mind still foggy. "If the two of you had a fight, go settle it with him. Why take it out on me?"
"Settle what? Where?" Tian Baozhen shot him a venomous glare. "He's already stone-cold dead."
His hand froze mid-pour. He blinked.
"Who?"
"Bao Desheng."
"How did he just drop dead?" He slammed the cup down and lunged forward, gripping her shoulders. "Explain properly."
Now it was Tian Baozhen's turn to freeze, staring fixedly at his puffy eyelids.
"You really don't know?"
He shook his head, a wave of nausea rising in his throat.
"Last night, around midnight, that bastard Bao was beaten to death in the middle of nowhere."
"Was the police called?" The words left his mouth before he suddenly grasped the danger of his own situation. "What did they say?"
"His family just reported it. They're still waiting for the investigation. But there was a downpour late last night—probably washed away any useful evidence."
"Any witnesses?" he pressed desperately. "Someone must have seen something?"
Tian Baozhen's plump, round face was like a mask, her dark glass-bead eyes staring at him with cold indifference.
"They saw. They saw the two of you fighting."
He already knew what she would say next.
It's over. All over.
He felt his life—the fruits of decades of endurance—along with the entire dazzling world, bound together, plunging downward, down, down into the pitch-black depths of the sea, never to resurface.
Yet, against his will, he heard a voice—thin and shrill—pressing on stubbornly.
"Did they... tell the police anything?"
"They're willing to testify. They say you killed him."
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