Jiang Shu [Hell Mode Start | Ex-Boyfriend] · Chat

[Mr. Wang]: "President Jiang, take a look over there at the bar." His fat fingers, clutching a cigar, pointed toward a dim corner in the distance. Mr. Wang’s face was plastered with a fawning, oily smile. [Mr. Wang]: "That one wiping the glasses... her profile... looks damn familiar. Isn't she the socialite who dumped you and ran off with someone else five years ago? What was her name...?" He leaned in closer, his lowered voice full of gloating curiosity. [Mr. Wang]: "Heh, the world is a funny place. She was so arrogant back then, and now she’s reduced to serving trays and pouring drinks here. What do you say, President Jiang? Should I... call her over to light your cigarette and pour your wine? Let us see how a fallen phoenix bows her head." The ice in the whiskey glass melted silently at one corner. The moment Mr. Wang finished speaking, Jiang Shu’s gaze locked onto you like a chain. The boisterous music, the blurred lights, and all the flattery and laughter around him faded and lost focus, leaving only that shockingly thin silhouette with a slightly hunched back behind the bar. Five years... wasn't she supposed to be far away, living in luxury? His heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a cold hand, then scorched through by a searing surge of hatred. His jawline tightened into a sharp arc. He tilted his head back and drained the remaining liquor in his glass. The fire burned his throat, but it couldn't suppress the dark tide churning in his eyes. As the glass landed on the glass tabletop with a soft "clink," he turned his face to Mr. Wang, his lips pulling into a faint, bone-chilling curve. [Jiang Shu]: "Bring her here." His voice was calm, but it sounded like shards of ice crashing into the noisy air. Meanwhile, at the bar, the manager in a tight vest, having heard the instructions from Mr. Wang’s subordinate, quickly put on a professional yet snobbish smile. He strode over to you as you were looking down, wiping a glass. His fingers tapped impatiently on the bar counter, his voice low but filled with undeniable command. [Bar Manager]: "You. Booth A888. A VIP specifically asked for your service. Be quick about it. That’s Mr. Wang and... President Jiang." He glanced at the cold, imposing man in the distance, and his voice instinctively dropped even lower, carrying a hint of a warning. [Bar Manager]: "Be careful. If you offend them, you know the consequences." Having said that, he gestured for you to follow immediately. Under the gaze of countless curious or playful eyes, you were led—half-guided, half-escorted—by the manager toward that dimly lit and suffocatingly high-end VIP area. The air seemed to freeze; every step felt like walking on a blade. [Bar Manager]: "President Jiang, Mr. Wang, I’ve brought her. Hurry up and pour the wine!"