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Join the ServerLi Xiao’s fingers pressed lightly against the back of Jiang Yu’s neck.
He could feel the warmth and tension of the skin beneath his palm, as well as Jiang Yu’s instantly held breath.
“What I want is the person?”
Li Xiao repeated, then suddenly let out a sneer and released his grip.
Jiang Yu immediately stepped back, putting distance between them. He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck, his eyes wary.
“Fine.”
Li Xiao sat back down on the sofa, his posture returning to its usual languor, as if the closeness from before had been merely an illusion.
“Let’s do it your way. The debt stays as debt. The three hours you spend with me tonight count as partial interest. How much exactly—that’s for me to decide.”
He pulled out his phone and scrolled swiftly with his fingers.
Jiang Yu watched him, brow furrowed.
A few seconds later, Li Xiao turned the screen toward him.
It was a bank transfer record. The amount was a clean twenty-five thousand yuan. The recipient’s name was exactly that bald-headed Brother Wang.
The transfer time was yesterday at three in the afternoon.
Li Xiao withdrew his phone, tapped a few more times, then slid it across to Jiang Yu.
“Add me on WeChat.”
Jiang Yu stared at the QR code on the screen without moving.
“Do I need to say it twice?”
Li Xiao’s voice dropped.
Slowly, Jiang Yu pulled out his old phone—the one with the cracked screen—scanned the code, and sent a friend request.
Li Xiao approved it almost instantly.
The next second, Jiang Yu’s phone buzzed.
“I sent you the electronic version of the debt transfer agreement on WeChat.”
Li Xiao’s tone was flat.
“From now on, you owe me two hundred and fifty thousand. As for how you’ll repay it—”
He paused, lifting his gaze to Jiang Yu. His eyes lingered for a moment on Jiang Yu’s throat, which bobbed slightly from nervousness.
“First, stop delivering food during the day.”
Jiang Yu was taken aback and instinctively retorted, “I can’t do that.”
“How much can you make running around in the sun and wind?”
Li Xiao’s voice carried a note of disdain.
“Besides, it affects your bartending at night. Seeing you like that annoys me.”
“I need the money.”
Jiang Yu answered stiffly, his fingers curling at his sides.
“Then do a good job at the bar at night.”
Li Xiao leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees—a posture that felt slightly oppressive.
“I’ve already talked to your manager. Starting this week, your hourly wage goes up by fifty percent. The increase is enough to cover what you make delivering food during the day, with some left over.”
“I don’t need—”
“Whether you need it or not isn’t up to you.”
Li Xiao’s voice hardened.
“Don’t forget, I’m your creditor now. A creditor has the right to demand that the debtor maintain a good ‘repayment condition.’ If you wear yourself out and drop dead, who am I supposed to collect from?”
Jiang Yu was choked speechless by this bandit logic. All he could do was glare at him.
The light from the booth’s ceiling lamp cast a small shadow over Li Xiao’s face, sharpening his features.
But Li Xiao seemed pleased with his reaction. He leaned back into the sofa and continued.
“Second, you’ll stay with me here at night. Whatever I say, you do. Of course, don’t worry—I won’t ask you to do anything illegal or morally wrong.”
A faint, ambiguous smile curved at the corner of his mouth as his gaze roamed over Jiang Yu’s face.
“At most, I just… want to see other expressions on your face. Don’t be so lifeless all the time. The interest isn’t worth it if you’re like this.”
“You—”
Jiang Yu’s chest heaved. He found Li Xiao simply unreasonable.
“Got a problem?”
Li Xiao raised an eyebrow, tapping his fingers lightly on the sofa arm.
“You can speak up if you have an objection. Not that it’ll do any good.”
He picked up the glass of Godfather that Jiang Yu had just made, took a sip, and frowned.
“Too bitter. Make another one. Something sweeter, but not cloying.”
Jiang Yu stood there, his fingers curling and uncurling.
The sting of his nails digging into his palm kept him lucid.
Finally, without a word, he turned and walked back to the small cart, silently cleaning his tools and selecting a base spirit.
Li Xiao lounged on the sofa, his gaze fixed on Jiang Yu’s lean back.
Today, Jiang Yu wore the bar’s assigned booth attendant uniform—a white shirt, a black vest, and black trousers.
The shirt fabric wasn’t high-quality, but it was neatly ironed, tucked into his waistband, cinching a slender yet flexible waistline.
The vest was form-fitting, and his shoulder blades shifted faintly as he worked on the cocktail.
Li Xiao watched, suddenly reminded of that night in the villa, when his palm had pressed against this same back, feeling its warmth and trembling.
He had indeed bought the debt to bind Jiang Yu to his side.
But what he’d just said was also the truth.
When he saw the documents his men had brought—the densely packed work schedule, the photo of that beat-up electric scooter, the hospital diagnosis recommending rest due to overexertion—Li Xiao had stared at those words, and an inexplicable fury had surged up in him.
He himself couldn’t quite figure out why.
Maybe it was that he couldn’t stand seeing someone treat themselves so poorly.
Especially when that someone was Jiang Yu.
The Jiang Yu who, in that alley, had grabbed his wrist with cold yet forceful fingers. The Jiang Yu who, in bed, had been in so much pain he couldn’t even scream yet refused to beg for mercy.
So he had his men contact Brother Wang and bought out that compounding debt for twenty-five thousand.
So he had the manager raise Jiang Yu’s pay. So he used a near-bullying tone to order Jiang Yu to stop delivering food during the day.
These actions didn’t align with his usual principle of “clear transactions, no debts between us.”
But Li Xiao didn’t bother to dig deeper.
All he knew was that Jiang Yu belonged to him now.
And his people wouldn’t live so miserably.
Soon, Jiang Yu finished making a new drink.
A pale golden liquid filled a diamond-shaped glass, garnished with a thin slice of lemon and a small sprig of mint.
“French 75, but with gin instead of champagne, and elderflower syrup added.”
Jiang Yu slid the drink in front of him, his voice flat.
“Moderate sweetness, with a citrus aroma.”
Li Xiao took it and tasted it.
It was indeed sweet but not cloying, with a clean, floral finish.
“Not bad.”
He set down the glass, his gaze returning to Jiang Yu’s face.
“Sit.”
Jiang Yu hesitated for a second, then sat where Li Xiao indicated—about half an arm’s length away, his body slightly turned, a defensive posture ready to rise at any moment.
“How many deliveries did you make today?”
Li Xiao asked suddenly.
Jiang Yu paused, lowering his eyes.
“…Seventeen.”
“What did you have for lunch?”
“…Convenience store onigiri.”
“And dinner?”
“Haven’t eaten yet.”
Li Xiao frowned and reached for the service bell.
A waiter quickly appeared.
“Two servings of beef fried rice, one vegetable salad, and two servings of the daily soup.”
Li Xiao ordered quickly, then looked at Jiang Yu.
“Any dietary restrictions?”
Jiang Yu shook his head. He wanted to say it wasn’t necessary, but Li Xiao had already waved the waiter away.
“From now on, when you stay with me at night, we’ll eat dinner together.”
Li Xiao’s tone was casual, as if it were the most natural arrangement.
“I’ll pay. It counts as a work meal.”
Jiang Yu opened his mouth, then finally said, “…Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.”
Li Xiao leaned back, his finger tracing the rim of the glass.
“I told you, you need to stay in good shape. How can you work on an empty stomach?”
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