LABMY CH128

Jian Yuanbai had thought they were heading somewhere special, but to his surprise, Pei Yao first drove back to a residence.

This place finally looked like somewhere a young film emperor should live—high-level security, a spacious neighborhood, and rows of standalone villas.

Pei Yao drove into the garage, led Jian Yuanbai inside the villa, and said, “Sit here for a bit; I’ll be down soon.”

The villa was meticulously clean, so pristine that it lacked any sign of being lived in—like a perfectly staged model home after a luxury renovation, waiting for visitors to admire.

Jian Yuanbai stared at the soft, plump sofa that showed no trace of ever being sat on. After a moment, he sat down, the cushion sinking slightly beneath him, the texture comfortable.

He wanted to take out his phone to look up information about Pei Yao, but when he reached into his suit pants pocket and pulled out an old, worn-out mobile phone with faded keys, he sighed and put it away.

“We can leave now.” A voice suddenly sounded, making Jian Yuanbai look up.

Standing on the staircase, Pei Yao had changed into a formal suit, stepping down the stairs. It was unclear whether he had noticed Jian Yuanbai’s earlier action of reaching for his phone.

Jian Yuanbai got up and followed Pei Yao as he walked past, asking as they went, “Where to?”

Pei Yao was still the one driving. While on the road, he instructed, “You don’t need to come in with me later; just wait at the entrance.”

“If I drink too much, just call a car and have me sent back.”

Jian Yuanbai nodded. “Alright.”

The rest of the drive was silent. The car stopped in front of a lavishly decorated restaurant. A valet quickly approached, took the keys, and went to park the car. The staff here were clearly professional—no one showed any reaction to Pei Yao arriving in such a cheap car.

Judging by Pei Yao’s decisive steps, the person on the phone had already told him the exact location. After entering the restaurant, he walked straight toward a particular room.

Pushing open the door to a private dining room named Heaven on Earth, Pei Yao had clearly told Jian Yuanbai to wait outside, but the moment he opened the door, Jian Yuanbai followed him in directly.

Pei Yao’s eyes widened as he glanced at him, but before he could reprimand Jian Yuanbai, a voice had already called out, leaving him no time to react.

“Well, if it isn’t our great Film Emperor Pei?”

The slightly mocking tone immediately caught Jian Yuanbai’s attention. The speaker was a young man sitting in the accompanying seat—not dressed too formally, decently good-looking, but with sharp, mean-looking features.

Pei Yao’s reaction was cold. He ignored the man and instead addressed the others seated at the table. “Apologies for being late.”

There were four people in total. As soon as Pei Yao spoke, a middle-aged man in a floral shirt quickly pulled him toward the man sitting at the head of the table, who seemed to hold the highest status. “Come, come, hurry up and greet Director Cheng.”

Pei Yao allowed himself to be led over and respectfully greeted, “Director Cheng, today—”

Before he could finish, Director Cheng interrupted him directly. “No need for pleasantries.”

“Tonight is simple. If you want a role in my film, you’ll need to show some sincerity.”

Pei Yao’s gaze fell on the neatly arranged row of liquor glasses on the table, and he had a bad premonition. Still, he said, “Of course, I’ve come with the utmost sincerity.”

Director Cheng smiled. “Then go ahead and drink all these.”

The young man who had mocked him earlier added gleefully, “Film Emperor Pei never touches alcohol, does he? Director Cheng, how could you forget how high and mighty our Pei Yao is?”

“A whole row of drinks? Even a single glass would be an insult to him.”

“Film Emperor Pei, this is sixty-degree distilled liquor. You might want to think twice before drinking it.”

As he spoke, his gaze suddenly landed on Jian Yuanbai, who had followed Pei Yao inside. His expression shifted slightly. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. And who is this?”

“Film Emperor Pei sure is different. Attending Director Cheng’s gathering and bringing along someone none of us even know. What is this, a free lunch for your guest?”

Jian Yuanbai responded evenly, neither humble nor arrogant, “I am Pei Yao’s assistant and part-time bodyguard.”

The moment he spoke, the young man burst into loud, mocking laughter. “Pei Yao is still Pei Yao—even after being blacklisted, he still insists on having a bodyguard follow him around.”

“How about this—have your bodyguard drink for you. If he finishes this whole row, I’ll put in a good word for you with Director Cheng. Maybe he’ll give your character a few extra lines.”

Director Cheng said nothing, tacitly allowing the young man’s provocation.

Pei Yao finally turned to him. “I believe a person has the right to choose who they work for. Zhao Jie, don’t you agree?”

Then, he shifted his gaze back to Director Cheng. “If I drink this row of liquor, does that mean I’ll get the role?”

Director Cheng chuckled and gave a vague answer. “Drink first, then we’ll talk. If you don’t even have this bit of sincerity, how could I consider working with you?”

“After all, Film Emperor Pei, you’re not who you used to be. Anyone who collaborates with you now is taking a huge risk.”

“Everyone has to consider whether they can afford the consequences of public backlash—your reputation could hurt a film’s viewership and box office earnings. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Director Cheng lifted his gaze, smiling leisurely. “Film—Emperor-Pei.”

Pei Yao’s gaze became resolute. Without saying a word, he picked up a glass of liquor and downed it in one go.

It was obvious that he had never drunk alcohol before. As soon as the liquor went down, he started coughing violently, his face turning bright red. He pounded his chest desperately, and his beautiful eyes quickly welled up with tears. His eyes reddened instantly.

Tears slid from the corners of his eyes as he coughed. And this was just one glass of high-proof liquor—there were still nineteen more to go.

If he managed to finish all nineteen, the best-case scenario was passing out. The worst-case scenario, if his body was weaker, was being rushed to the hospital with a perforated stomach.

Yet, despite this, Pei Yao did not hesitate. He reached for the second glass.

Again, he gulped it down in one go. Others sipped their liquor slowly, tasting it carefully, but he was drinking recklessly, as if his life depended on it.

The third glass. The fourth. The fifth.

Pei Yao could barely stand. His face flushed an unnatural shade of red, and he wobbled, gripping the table for balance. He shook his head, trying to stay awake, and reached for the sixth glass.

The middle-aged man in the floral shirt, who had dragged Pei Yao here, hesitated for a long time before finally stepping forward. With a forced smile, he said to Director Cheng, “Director Cheng, how about this? I’ll drink the rest for Pei Yao.”

Saying this, he picked up a glass of liquor and downed it, the fiery burn spreading through his chest. He forced a smile. “See? I drank it for him.”

Unexpectedly, Director Cheng sneered at the empty glass in his hand. “If you drink one, we’ll add two more for our Film Emperor Pei.”

The man in the floral shirt froze, his heart surging with anger. But looking at Director Cheng, he had no choice but to grit his teeth and force a smile. “Let’s… let’s just stick to one. My fault. All my fault.”

He turned to Pei Yao, whose face was now covered in patches of unnatural redness, and saw his furrowed brows. Then he looked around at the crowd watching the spectacle with glee. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Forget it. Let’s not drink anymore.”

“This role… we don’t need it.”

Pei Yao’s voice was already slurred with drunkenness, his consciousness wavering. “Brother Wang, I… I can… drink, I can.”

Saying this, he picked up the sixth glass and downed it.

Pain contorted his face. The high-proof liquor burned through him, scorching his stomach and liver. He felt fire spreading inside him—his mouth burned, his throat burned.

His vision blurred, but even if he couldn’t see their expressions clearly, he could guess. They were mocking him, ridiculing him.

Laughing at how a once-glorious Film Emperor had now been reduced to drinking and groveling just for a minor role.

“You can’t drink anymore!” The man in the floral shirt grabbed Pei Yao’s unsteady hand, gritting his teeth. “Did you forget what the doctor told you about your poor diet from years of filming?”

Pei Yao shook his head, or perhaps he was just trying to clear his foggy mind. He switched hands and mumbled, “I know this opportunity… wasn’t easy for you to find for me.”

The man’s eyes stung. It wasn’t him who had struggled—Pei Yao was the one who had suffered.

He knew how much Pei Yao cherished his reputation, so he knew Pei Yao wouldn’t let go of this chance. Steeling himself, he let go and stepped back.

The first few glasses had been within reach, but the next ones were farther away. Pei Yao took a step forward to grab the next glass, but his footing slipped. He barely managed to steady himself, one hand on the table, the other reaching for the sixth glass.

His hand trembled as it gripped the glass, but then another hand suddenly covered the top of the glass, stopping him.

“Stop drinking.”

Jian Yuanbai grabbed both of Pei Yao’s hands, securing them with one of his own, and took the glass from his grasp, setting it back on the table. His voice was deep and firm. “Enough.”

The glasses of liquor were small, but for someone like Pei Yao, who had never touched alcohol before, this was no different from poisoning himself.

Zhao Jie immediately sneered. “Hey, isn’t this bodyguard of yours overstepping a little?”

“Do you even know what kind of situation your employer is in right now?”

He had originally wanted to say that with Pei Yao’s reputation in shambles, this opportunity meant everything. If Pei Yao himself was willing to drink, then what right did a mere bodyguard have to interfere?

But unexpectedly, the tall, handsome man in the suit simply nodded and replied seriously, “I know exactly what the situation is.”

“Right now, you’re bullying him.”

Zhao Jie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Huh?”

Director Cheng also frowned. “That’s not how it is. None of us forced him—he chose to drink on his own.”

The people sitting beside Director Cheng chimed in immediately. “Yeah, how can you say we’re bullying him?”

“If he didn’t want to drink, he could’ve just walked away.”

“Exactly, exactly! Who forced him?”

It all sounded reasonable on the surface, but at its core, it was nothing more than thinly veiled humiliation. They were taking advantage of Pei Yao’s downfall, trampling on him, mocking him with impunity.

Jian Yuanbai stared at the fourteen remaining glasses of liquor. At first, he had planned to force these people to drink them all, but now he had changed his mind.

Sweeping his gaze over the people in the room, Jian Yuanbai nodded slightly. “You’re right.”

Forcing them to drink all at once wasn’t enough. Pei Yao had drunk six glasses—so these people would drink sixty. Ten per day, for six days. If they ended up in the hospital, they’d drink again once they were discharged.

He wanted them to beg for those drinks.

Jian Yuanbai couldn’t explain the anger surging inside him. He only knew that the moment he saw these people humiliating Pei Yao, his fury had been building, bit by bit.

From the very first glass, he had wanted to intervene. But he had no standing to do so. Besides, this was a necessary trial for a future “Long Aotian” protagonist.

But by the sixth glass, he thought—screw this “necessary trial”.

The system inside him was called the “Long Aotian Support System”.  He was the host of this support system.

Support. Wasn’t that exactly what he was here to do?

So, without hesitation, Jian Yuanbai had reached out and stopped the glass.

And now, as he memorized the faces of everyone present, he spoke in a chilling voice.

“Today, I’ll remember this.”

After speaking, Jian Yuanbai unexpectedly picked up the drunken Pei Yao in his arms and walked out without looking back.

The man in the floral shirt was stunned, staring blankly at his departing figure for two seconds before remembering to chase after him. “Hey, wait for me!!”

“Who the hell are you, just taking Pei Yao away like that?!”

But by the time he rushed out, the restaurant’s lobby no longer held any trace of that tall figure in a well-fitted suit. The man in the floral shirt was dumbfounded. “Damn, what kind of person walks that fast?”

“Just because your legs are long, you think you’re impressive?”

Inside the private room, the atmosphere fell into a brief silence. It was Zhao Jie’s bewildered voice that finally broke it. “He memorized it?”

“Who is he, and how could he just memorize it?”

Director Cheng, who had been sitting firmly at the head of the table in front of Pei Yao and the others, instead put on a flattering smile toward Zhao Jie. “So, Young Master Zhao, what do you think we should do now?”

Zhao Jie scoffed. “What else can we do?”

“Just wait.”

“Pei Yao is currently surrounded by scandals, shelved by his current agency, and in half a month, his contract will expire. Even then, considering his former agency and the fact that he’s completely blacklisted online right now, no one will dare to approach him.”

Zhao Jie swirled the red wine in his glass, crossed one leg over the other, and said, “Just wait and see. He’ll come back to you.”

He took a sip of the rich, fragrant wine and narrowed his eyes. “I want Pei Yao to have absolutely no chance of making a comeback. He thinks he landed a minor extra role, but once he signs that contract, that’s when he’ll truly understand what hell is.”

Director Cheng smiled and nodded, but inwardly, he was puzzled—what exactly had Pei Yao done to offend Young Master Zhao?

More than that, he wondered if Pei Yao, who had treated Zhao Jie so indifferently, even with a hint of disdain, knew that Zhao Jie was actually the son of his current agency’s president.

Director Cheng suspected he didn’t. Zhao Jie wasn’t a big name, nor did he seem to have received any major backing. If Zhao Jie hadn’t approached him this time, even Director Cheng himself would still be in the dark.

While Zhao Jie confidently declared that Pei Yao would return and leisurely enjoyed the dishes being served, Jian Yuanbai stepped on the gas and brought Pei Yao home.

Pei Yao, dazed and reeking of alcohol, couldn’t even stand properly. Jian Yuanbai had no choice but to support him with one arm around his waist, letting Pei Yao rest a hand on his shoulder just to barely stay upright. This freed up one hand for Jian Yuanbai to search Pei Yao’s pockets.

Because Pei Yao was drunk, this process was far from smooth. Jian Yuanbai’s hand brushed past Pei Yao’s legs multiple times, only to be lazily swatted away as Pei Yao mumbled in protest.

The man leaning against him kept fidgeting, drunkenly making small, restless movements.

Jian Yuanbai had no choice but to grip both of Pei Yao’s hands, suddenly lifting them and pressing them against the door.

His hands were strong and lean, the dark veins on the backs clearly visible. With just one hand, he effortlessly restrained both of Pei Yao’s wrists. The height difference between them forced Jian Yuanbai to lower his head to look at him.

Originally, he had only lowered his head to search for the key in Pei Yao’s pocket, but in that brief moment, his gaze accidentally met Pei Yao’s drunken eyes.

Pei Yao’s eyes were red—perhaps from the alcohol or perhaps from grievance.

His face was also red, an unnatural flush that spread from his cheeks down to his neck. The redness continued downward, disappearing beneath the obscuring fabric of his suit, leaving what lay beneath unseen.

Jian Yuanbai didn’t dwell on it. He lowered his head, reached into Pei Yao’s suit pants, and pulled out the key.

Just as he exhaled in relief, he lifted his head, only to see Pei Yao’s face again.

It was wet, utterly flushed.

Pei Yao was crying.

He cried in complete silence, his brows slightly furrowed, as tears slipped down his burning cheeks, one by one.

Jian Yuanbai felt a pang in his chest. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed his hand against Pei Yao’s face. His fingers, rough with faint callouses, skimmed over the soft, heated skin, wiping away a tear. “Why are you crying?”

Pei Yao didn’t seem to hear him. His expression remained unchanged, his brows still knitted as he quietly cried to himself.

Jian Yuanbai asked again, but Pei Yao still gave no response. He was so obedient when drunk—hardly making a sound, not throwing any tantrums. The only issue was that he couldn’t stand properly, constantly needing support.

After carrying him upstairs and settling him onto the bed, Pei Yao clutched his stomach, frowning slightly, seemingly in discomfort.

Jian Yuanbai fed him some water before heading downstairs to the kitchen, intending to cook him a bowl of hangover soup and some porridge.

The fridge was packed with ingredients, and the cabinets were stocked with rice.

Half an hour later, Jian Yuanbai stared at the burnt-bottomed porridge, falling into a deep, perplexed silence. If he fed this to Pei Yao, someone who didn’t even need to go to the hospital might just end up hospitalized.

He first brought up the hangover soup and coaxed Pei Yao into drinking a bit. Pei Yao curled up, clutching his stomach like a small, insecure animal.

Jian Yuanbai knew—it was because his stomach was empty, burned by the high alcohol content of the liquor, causing pain.

It was already 1 AM. Jian Yuanbai, still wearing his alcohol-scented suit, drove twenty minutes to find a porridge shop that was still open.

With the gas pedal floored, by the time he got home, the porridge was still hot.

Jian Yuanbai gently patted Pei Yao and helped him sit up against the headboard, coaxing softly, “Eat some porridge. Your stomach will feel better.”

Pei Yao, still groggy, didn’t throw a tantrum. He simply sat there obediently, eating every spoonful Jian Yuanbai fed him.

When the bowl was empty, Jian Yuanbai finally let him lie down.

Standing beside the bed with the empty container in hand, Jian Yuanbai gazed at Pei Yao, whose eyes still shimmered with moisture under the light.

The thought that had surfaced at the door was now confirmed—Pei Yao must have felt wronged. Otherwise, he wouldn’t still be unconsciously shedding tears even in his sleep.

Earlier, when Jian Yuanbai first saw Pei Yao at the café, he had inwardly praised how fitting it was that someone like him was the protagonist of a “Long Aotian” story—his looks were truly top-tier.

When Pei Yao stepped into the sunlight to take a call, Jian Yuanbai had looked at him and inexplicably felt that, under the sun, Pei Yao’s fair skin seemed to glow.

Brighter than the sun itself—just like his name, Pei Yao, as dazzling as a little sun.

But now, that little sun was curled up in bed, silently shedding tears, quiet and full of grievance.

Jian Yuanbai thought—this little sun should be wearing a clean white T-shirt, standing in the sunshine, happy and radiant. That would be much better than now.

He spoke to the system. “Is my assigned role really just some errand boy lackey?”

The system replied, “That’s how it is in the script. You just need to play your part well.”

Jian Yuanbai pondered for a moment and came to a decision.