Zhao Pingchi stood at the door of the M1NT bar, his fingers constantly stroking the black card he had just taken back from Xi Wanrong. The metal border glowed coldly under the neon lights.
He was followed by three of his bad friends - Ah Fei, Lao Mao and Qiangzi, all of whom he met when he was just hanging around.
"Brother Zhao, are you sure we can get in?" Ah Fei tugged at the hem of his T-shirt and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Last time I came to deliver some wine, the security guard told me to get out."
"Sir, tonight is a members-only event." The security guard in a black suit reached out to stop him, his eyes sweeping over his washed-out jeans and debonded sneakers, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly, as if he was trying to hold back a laugh.
Zhao Pingchi felt his friends' gazes piercing him like needles. He took a deep breath, pulled out his black card, and, imitating the wealthy in the movies, waved it between two fingers in front of the security guard. "Is this enough?"
The security guard's expression froze instantly. He leaned in closer, his eyes fixed on the gilded dragon pattern on the card, his Adam's apple rolling.
"The Ye family's black card..." he muttered softly, then suddenly stood up and pressed the headset: "Diamond booth, four people, arrange immediately!"
Ah Fei, Lao Mao, and Qiangzi looked at each other, their mouths wide open enough to fit an egg. Zhao Pingchi grinned, finally finding an outlet for the frustration he'd been pent up for over twenty years.
As Zhao Pingchi walked through the dimly lit corridor, his leather shoes made a crisp sound on the mirrored floor. In the VIP boxes on both sides, wealthy second-generations hugged young models and drank, champagne splashed, and laughter was shrill.
Once upon a time, he could only hide at the back door of the bar, and wait for the leftover drinks of the customers to be poured into the trash can, and then secretly scoop up a glass to satisfy his craving.
And now——
"Sir, please come this way." The manager led the way himself, bending very low, as if afraid of blocking his view.
The booth is a semicircular leather sofa surrounding a huge aquarium. The faint blue light is reflected on the glass, and several small sharks are swimming in the turbid water.
Zhao Pingchi sat down in the center seat and casually threw the black card on the table with a crisp "pop" sound.
"What kind of drinks would you like?" The manager rubbed his hands, his eyes never leaving the card.
Zhao Pingchi grinned and said, "The most expensive one, go for it directly."
Ten minutes later, the waiter came over with a gold-plated champagne cart. Three bottles of Gold Edition of Ace of Spades were steaming in an ice bucket. The bottles were wrapped in 24K gold foil. When the light shone on them, they were so dazzling that people could not open their eyes.
"Holy shit!" Old Cat grabbed the bottle and rubbed his fingers on the gold foil again and again. "Is this real gold?"
Zhao Pingchi ignored him, picked up a bottle and pushed the cork open with his thumb - "Bang!" The champagne foam gushed out and splashed all over Ah Fei's face.
"Brother Zhao is awesome!" Qiangzi roared into the camera of his mobile phone, "See? I'm at M1NT! Brother Zhao's treat!"
Zhao Pingchi tilted his head back and took a long gulp. The sweet alcohol slid down his throat, burning his chest. He snapped his fingers, and immediately six models in shiny miniskirts came over, their perfume so strong it choked him.
"A drinking companion?" Ah Fei's eyes widened, and his hand had already touched the waist of one of the girls.
Zhao Pingchi said nothing. He simply took out his black card and slammed it on the table. "Tonight, they're all ours."
The manager's smile froze for a moment, but he quickly recovered: "Of course, of course!"
After three rounds of drinks, Zhao Pingchi was already dizzy. He collapsed on the sofa, hugged by women, and didn't bother to wipe the champagne spilled all over him.
Suddenly, a burst of laughter came from the next booth.
"Hey, isn't this the Zhao Pingchi who used to drink by the back door?" A man with a buzz cut and wearing Givenchy raised his glass, his face full of sarcasm. "Whose wallet did you steal?"
Zhao Pingchi narrowed his eyes - he knew this guy, a young man from a real estate company. When he came to the bar to play before, he was thrown out by the security guard.
The whole audience was silent for a second.
Zhao Pingchi didn't say anything, but slowly picked up the POS machine and entered the password in front of everyone.
"Beep—" the machine spit out the receipt, and he deliberately read it out loud: "This purchase—two hundred and eighty-six thousand yuan."
The smile on the man with the crew cut froze on his face.
Zhao Pingchi stood up, staggered over, grabbed the Louis XIII on the other person's table, and threw it directly to the ground.
"Bang!" Glass fragments flew everywhere, and the wine formed a golden puddle on the ground.
"Now," he grinned, his voice hoarse and frantic from the alcohol, "who's the beggar?"
The whole place was dead silent.
The man with the crew cut turned pale, but couldn't utter a word.
Zhao Pingchi turned around, staggered back to the booth, and slumped down on the sofa. He pulled out his phone and sent a voice message to Xi Wanrong: "Baby... I'll take you to buy bags tomorrow... Buy ten..."
After sending this message, his head hit the sofa hard and his vision went completely black.
———————(time dividing line)
Ye Qingliu sat cross-legged on the custom-made carpet in the monitoring room of Ye's house, his school uniform jacket casually thrown on the priceless Ming Dynasty Huanghuali armchair.
There were six holographic projection screens floating in front of him, one of which was showing the scene of Zhao Pingchi squandering money in the M1NT bar in real time.
"Tsk, the third bottle of Ace of Spades." Ye Qingliu bit the lollipop and ran his finger across the projection. The picture immediately enlarged to the point where Zhao Pingchi's face, flushed red from alcohol, could be clearly seen.
A playful smile appeared on the boy's lips, and his thin shoulder blades under his school uniform shirt rose and fell gently with his breathing.
There were three gentle knocks on the door, the rhythm like some kind of secret code.
"Come in." Ye Qingliu didn't even turn his head, his eyes still fixed on Zhao Pingchi who was stuffing money into the girl's chest in the projection.
Butler Zhao Chengshu walked in, carrying a gilded tray. His white gloves made him look like an old-fashioned English butler. On the tray were freshly baked almond cookies and hot milk—ever since Ye Qingliu's stomach bleed in the third year of junior high, this had become his unwavering midnight snack.
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