Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Night fell over Nation G.

The streets were ablaze with red and green Christmas lights and artificial snowscapes. That evening, as if on cue, a light rain began to fall, slowing the melt of the artificial snowmen lining the roads. Children carefully inserted carrots into them, meticulously preserving this annual winter tradition.

Pedestrians, clad in Christmas-themed bikinis, scattered as helicopters roared overhead, their powerful downdrafts sending artificial snowflakes swirling and fluttering downwards.

“How much must it cost to create such a snowy scene?” Jiang Yao mused at the docks, thinking to himself that with such capital, one might as well spend winter in England or Norway. Those countries were blanketed in real snow, making such extravagant displays unnecessary.

Guests boarded the yacht one by one. Jiang Yao collected invitations, cross-referencing each attendee with his list before granting entry. Aunt Zhou was truly meticulous—every guest was a stunning man or woman between 18 and 25, impeccably dressed and flawless in appearance and physique.

Still, men were in the minority. Perhaps Aunt Zhou had only recently realized Shen Mo wasn’t exactly straight, which explained the last-minute, somewhat reluctant invitations extended to a handful of men for the gathering.

The System grumbled: [This Aunt Zhou sounds suspiciously like a madam.]

No sooner had it spoken than someone grabbed Jiang Yao’s ass.

System: […You just got sexually harassed.]

“Indeed,” Jiang Yao replied, maintaining perfect composure as he accepted an invitation from a model, greeting her warmly with an air kiss before ushering her aboard.

[You’re way too calm about this!] The System panicked, though not entirely surprised. [Are you turning gay?]

“My sexual orientation is… adaptable,” Jiang Yao said.

System: […]

Once all the guests had arrived, Jiang Yao’s work wasn’t over. The scheduled fireworks had arrived, and he hired ten temporary workers to move them from the seaside warehouse.

He couldn’t help but marvel—the more he managed the Shen family’s affairs for Shen Mo, the more he was amazed at Shen Mo’s wealth. In a country like G, where real estate was astronomically expensive, Shen Mo owned a massive warehouse in a prime dockside location.

The daily rent for such a space would cost tens of thousands of euros. Jiang Yao had assumed it was leased, but Jenny later clarified—Shen Mo had bought the land, built the warehouse, and now profited from other millionaires.

Sometimes, the ways the rich made money were surprisingly straightforward.

Jiang Yao counted crate after crate of fireworks before paying the workers, tipping them, and passing out small Christmas presents.

These fireworks had been imported from overseas, sold by a top-tier Christmas cracker merchant at nearly a million per crate. The confetti inside was made of Indian velvet paper, studded with handcrafted diamonds—just to make this one-time luxury even more over-the-top.

When the fireworks exploded, those diamonds would scatter into the sky, shattering into glittering dust before drifting down like colored snow under the moonlight.

Once everything was settled, the party on the yacht was already in full swing. Worn out, Jiang Yao left guards to watch the fireworks and boarded a shuttle boat to the cruise ship.

But the moment he stepped aboard, the head chef stopped him—a guest had ordered dishes requiring two ingredients they didn’t have. With over thirty staff in the kitchen barely keeping up, Jiang Yao made a call. The shore crew would get the missing items and deliver them via speedboat.

Luckily, they weren’t far from shore yet. Tonight’s route would end at the optimal spot for fireworks viewing.

Excluding staff, the yacht held over three hundred guests, many with families in tow. Jiang Yao had no idea where Aunt Zhou had found so many eligible singles, but thankfully, his careful planning kept things from going haywire.

At exactly seven, the sun hadn’t yet set, turning the river into a sea of orange. Jiang Yao’s stomach growled—he hadn’t eaten all day. But first, he needed to check on Shen Mo.

Time for the boss's third meal today.

“Do you think Shen Mo actually likes me?” Jiang Yao asked.

[Why?]

“He doesn’t even care if I’m exhausted or starving.”

[…]

Shen Mo was on the top deck. To enjoy the evening, he’d spent days freeing up his schedule. Now, he held Ian in his arms, watching the crowd.

Aunt Zhou, surrounded by admirers praising her hosting skills, had drawn a crowd of men and women trying to get Shen Mo’s attention.

Fu Xiaoen stood beside Shen Mo, nearly in tears as a muscular guy kept brushing his chest against him—until a hand intervened, separating them.

Jiang Yao nodded politely. “Hello.”

The muscular man swallowed. “You—”

“Sir,” Jiang Yao said, guiding Fu Xiaoen away before addressing Shen Mo. “Dinner is ready. Please proceed, honored guests.”

Aunt Zhou, holding a blonde woman’s hand, comforted her before leading the way to dinner. The woman glanced at Jiang Yao several times—her strong features and prominent nose giving her a striking, androgynous beauty.

Second floor.

After pre-dinner drinks, the meal was served buffet-style. Fixed tables were replaced with over thirty small round ones, each piled with food, while utensils and plates were self-service.

Shen Mo was mobbed. Aside from Simon, Jiang Yao could barely get close—each attempt blocked by Aunt Zhou’s interventions to send him away.

After a few tries, Jiang Yao gladly slipped away to a corner for a drink.

Kai Li Er’s family’s wine. He’d muted the young master’s texts days ago and only now remembered to check.

Over a hundred messages?

Jiang Yao raised a brow, about to browse through them, when a glass clinked against his.

“Hi,” the blonde woman said with an elegant smile.

Jiang Yao smiled back. “Hello, Miss Aili.”

“You know me?” Aili seemed surprised.

“Once on the deck, once when you boarded. Thank you for your handsome tip.”

Aili laughed. “I didn’t realize you were the butler. Otherwise, I’d have given a real present instead of a tip.”

“I thought it was compensation for feeling me up?” Jiang Yao teased.

Aili’s eyes widened. “How did you—”

Jiang Yao finished his champagne, his cheeks faintly flushed. “You’re too striking to forget.”

“You’re charming,” Aili said, propping her chin in her hands as she leaned closer. “Can we get acquainted?”

His phone buzzed—Shen Mo’s custom ringtone. “Excuse me,” Jiang Yao said, using it as an excuse to leave.

[She’s stunning!] the System exclaimed.

“She’s trans,” Jiang Yao said offhandedly, texting Shen Mo back.

In total, he had only been away for ten minutes—Mr. Shen was being oddly clingy. The buffet lasted two hours, and Jiang Yao got a quick break before heading back to the kitchen to work again.

By a little past eight, the dance began, and he finally had another moment to rest.

Fu Xiaoen found him, holding a plate of food, and said, “How are you even busier than Shen Mo?”

Jiang Yao sat on the sofa in the farthest corner. “How’d you track me down?”

“I checked the surveillance,” Fu Xiaoen said smugly, sliding the food his way. “Eat quickly—you’ve gotta be hungry!”

He had brought both food and drinks, but there was a clear pout about him. Yet Jiang Yao only took a glass of wine, his eyes wandering as if lost in thought.

Fu Xiaoen asked stiffly, “What's wrong?”

“Has the gentleman set his sights on anyone?” Jiang Yao inquired.

Fu Xiaoen shook his head, indicating he didn’t know. He had been accompanying Ian the whole time, and after Ian got sleepy, he split from Shen Mo to put the child to bed.

Jiang Yao rubbed his temples. “Out of over three hundred people, I checked—most are ordinary, with assets mostly middle-to-upper class. Only Aili and two other ladies seem halfway decent matches for Mr. Shen.”

System: [Right, it’s so strange. If this is a matchmaking event, why did Madam Zhou arrange so many people at once? Even emperors took their time selecting concubines. What’s the point of this setup?]

Jiang Yao: “She probably cleaned up on this.”

“I don’t get what you mean, but it seems a lot of people want to know you,” Fu Xiaoen said. “When I left Shen Mo’s side, many stopped me to ask about you.”

Jiang Yao raised a brow. “Next time, just say I’m impotent. That’ll cut the hassle.”

Fu Xiaoen: “…”

“Kai Li Er got through to me!” This was the real reason Fu Xiaoen was acting strange. “He begged me to plead with you—to ask you to see him.”

Come to think of it, it had been nearly ten days since Jiang Yao last saw Kai Li Er. He had sent over drinks twice, but Jiang Yao had instructed others to sign for them.

“Are you going to see him?” Fu Xiaoen asked. “He said he’s on the boat nearby.”

Jiang Yao turned his head. A few dozen meters away floated a medium-sized yacht, lit by only two or three scattered lights. Compared to Shen Mo’s floating palace, it looked like a speck on the sea.

“Go on, I’ve delivered the message,” Fu Xiaoen said.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Jiang Yao was allergic to alcohol—even a little triggered strong physical reactions and made it easy for his true nature to show. He exhaled hot breath, flushing Fu Xiaoen’s face as well. “Talking so boldly—do you want to get fucked?”

Fu Xiaoen blue-screened instantly, stammering, “Y-you’re full of it!”

“Called it,” Jiang Yao smirked.

Fu Xiaoen was momentarily dazzled by that smile, left speechless. Because… it was true. He was guilty, craving the man before him.

“I’m in a good mood today,” Jiang Yao teased. “I want to know what’s cooking in that brain of yours.”

Fu Xiaoen parted his lips slightly: “…”

“But you’re such an open book, you’re ridiculously easy to guess.” Jiang Yao dropped his chin in his palm and sighed, then suddenly chuckled. “Look, there you go getting mad. Hahaha.”

Only then did Fu Xiaoen realize he’d been played! He grew even angrier, but getting more upset would only plunge him deeper into Jiang Yao’s trap.

A drunk Jiang Yao felt different—so much so that it nearly flipped Fu Xiaoen’s whole view of him. He still remembered their first meeting, when Jiang Yao had helped him out of trouble, coming off as Mr. Perfect, a warm older brother.

Now, his grin was downright devilish. Fu Xiaoen thought and thought, recalling moments when he’d caught Jiang Yao watching him with an amused smirk, as if watching him like live entertainment.

“I…” Fu Xiaoen clenched his jaw. “Can I kiss you?”

The bottom was so damn polite—unlike those savage men who just wanted in his pants without hesitation.

Jiang Yao mused lazily, [Tell me, is his heart just as filthy as Shen Mo’s? Proper on the surface, but filthier than a frat house inside?] Maybe he was fantasizing about being bent over and taken.

System: [You have two chances left.]

“What’s wrong with playing around once?” Jiang Yao said.

The System muttered, [Management warned those three chances could save your life if used well. Think carefully.]

“Mhm.”

Fu Xiaoen: [Can’t I kiss you? Why isn’t he answering—is that a yes or a no? Last time, he even said not to like him, I…]

The bottom protagonist’s eyes pricked. “Sorry, I’ll leave first.”

Jiang Yao: “?”

“I’m drunk,” Jiang Yao suddenly said.

Fu Xiaoen: “I’ll make you hangover cure.”

Fu Xiaoen’s mind automatically mapped the yacht’s layout, instinctively searching for the kitchen.

“I’ll go with you—I just can’t stand very steadily,” Jiang Yao added.

Fu Xiaoen: [That bad?]

Fu Xiaoen helped him sit down, but when he caught sight of Jiang Yao’s drunken face, he froze briefly before snapping back to reality. “Then stay put. I’ll be back soon.”

[Quick, where’s the kitchen? Right, I should look up a recipe for hangover cure… Jiang Yao’s cooking is so good, what if he pukes at my cooking…]

Nervous, even the slightest impure thought in his heart was instantly extinguished, replaced mostly by worry for Jiang Yao’s discomfort.

Gradually, Fu Xiaoen’s inner voice faded. Jiang Yao switched the hand propping his chin and finished the last sip of wine in his glass. *So innocent. It’s messing with me.*

“I’m drunk.”

“Come get me.”

It was Shen Mo again.

Jiang Yao stood and made his way to the dance floor.

Madam Zhou, holding her sleeves, came toward him. The dance floor was dimly lit, and many who couldn’t get close to Shen Mo had already found partners, getting cozy.

Madam Zhou weaved through the crowd as she hurried, brushing past Jiang Yao without even noticing him—and something slipped from her grip.

A small packet of powder. Jiang Yao bent to pick it up, rubbing it open with a finger. The sweet, fragrant powder hit his nose, making him cough twice.

A wave of heat surged from his feet, pooling in his abdomen and making his breath come hot.

“What took you so long?” Jiang Yao lurched over to Shen Mo, who scolded in a low voice, “You’re busier than I am. What were you doing?”

[Your breathing is so hot, and you smell sweet. Was a whole day of work not enough? Did you still have time to sneak off with someone?]

As the “Spring Waltz” began to play, Jiang Yao blinked hard, blinking to focus. “Sir, what is it?”

His voice was hoarse in a way even he hadn't noticed.

Shen Mo led him onto the dance floor. As the host, Shen Mo had to show courtesy to the guests by dancing a segment. He wrapped an arm around Jiang Yao's waist, gripping it tightly. The other man's slow response annoyed him greatly.

“I don't have a dance partner,” Shen Mo explained. “Jiang Yao, move—we're starting the dance.”

Jiang Yao let out a scoff. “Why am I following? This is making me dizzy…”

He had no idea how alluring he looked.

“Butler Jiang, where have you been? What did you do?”

“Do you know you look like you’ve been wrecked?”

Amidst the grand waltz, Jiang Yao was spun around by Shen Mo. His steps were light and nimble, as if he was gradually getting into the rhythm.

“You said you were drunk,” Jiang Yao remarked.

Shen Mo: “Mhm.”

Jiang Yao: “Why lie to me?”

Shen Mo: [To trick you into this state.]

“…”

[Host? Host?] The System tried to rouse Jiang Yao.

Jiang Yao responded sluggishly: “Mmm… I was drugged. That incense was laced with aphrodisiacs.”

System: […What now?!]

“What can we do?” Jiang Yao's drunken gaze was hazy as he considered all the targets around him. Ironically, Shen Mo was the best option to relieve this at the moment.

The Spring Waltz was a dance that required switching partners. At the climax of the sonata, everyone would spin together, exchanging their dance partners—all part of Zhou Yima's careful planning.

Seizing the moment, Shen Mo pulled Jiang Yao off the dance floor. “Let's go.”

“Where to?” Jiang Yao asked. “The midnight fireworks…”

Shen Mo: “Taking you to meet some people.”

They walked past two men locked in an embrace, and Jiang Yao instantly felt the atmosphere become strangely charged.

Something that wouldn't usually affect him was now magnified infinitely. Jiang Yao dug nails into his thigh.

Among the guests this time, aside from those invited by Zhou Yima, Shen Mo had also—unexpectedly—brought some associates. Jiang Yao had once thought him friendless, but it turned out even billionaires socialized.

In the corner, on a circular sofa, Simon sat like a mountain, creating a ten-meter bubble of silence. No one dared approach. He looked at Jiang Yao strangely. A leather band was wrapped around his arm, which he adjusted from time to time.

“Is this the butler you always talk about?” a voice beside him remarked in G-language. “An Easterner?”

Shen Mo sat on the sofa, lightly patting his thigh as a reminder to the man: “He understands.”

Jiang Yao stood impassive, standing quietly behind Shen Mo's left side—where he belonged.

“Quite good-looking.”

“Very refined.”

Jiang Yao smiled gracefully. “You're too kind, sirs. I'm just an unremarkable butler, nothing special. Merry Christmas.”

[Acting proper,] Shen Mo muttered as he poured wine.

Heat coursed through Jiang Yao, unsure how long the effects of Zhou Yima’s drug would last. Without thinking, he lifted a hand to loosen his tie and undid the first two buttons of his shirt, licking his lips.

The tycoons in the salon area were all immensely wealthy, each with remarkable presence, mostly in their forties. Shen Mo was the youngest among them.

Jiang Yao had expected some frivolous gathering straight out of a novel, but these were all respectable figures, sipping wine while conversing.

After about ten minutes of conversation, someone asked, “The F1 finals in May—what's your stake in this, Shen?”

Shen Mo crossed his knees and gestured with his hand.

Someone exclaimed, then began calculating Shen Mo's potential earnings based on factors like foot traffic, trade, and tourism. Shen Mo smiled, deftly sidestepping a few topics and dodging with witty replies.

*Small wonder the man was lonely,* Jiang Yao thought wryly. When he lifted his gaze, it met Simon's eyes—smoldering intensely, setting his nerves alight.

*What if he slept with Simon…*

Jiang Yao swallowed hard.

By then, the night had deepened, and the yacht had docked. Shen Mo waved a hand, and Jiang Yao discreetly made a call. Soon, the kitchen sent over food and drinks.

Jiang Yao personally attended to them, his body thrumming with need as he poured wine, lit cigars, and served flawlessly—even letting a knee press against his thigh.

His eyes lifted to meet a man in his forties. Jiang Yao knew him—a tycoon in the business of custom luxury private jets, a regular at Shen Mo's gatherings who always secured lucrative deals.

First a knee, then a hand, sliding along Jiang Yao's inner thigh. When Jiang Yao avoided it, the man suddenly chuckled.

“Shen, your butler is excellent. Would you part with him?”

Shen Mo took a drag of his cigar. “Explain.”

Before the man could reply, Jiang Yao had already returned to Shen Mo's side. Leaning down, he covered his mouth with a hand and whispered into Shen Mo's ear:

“I lit his cigar, and he got hard. Then he touched me.”

[Even lighting a cigar can stir trouble.]

“Sir, you must stand up for me,” Jiang Yao said, placing a hand on Shen Mo's shoulder before sitting on his lap—marking his territory.

He belonged to Shen Mo.

Simon's jaw tightened. His fingers brushed the leather band on his arm, a sharp, spreading pain through him. The pain brought anguish, yet also an odd sense of gratification.

The would-be suitor laughed helplessly, spreading his hands. “You should have mentioned your arrangement earlier.”

Shen Mo's lips quirked slightly. He wrapped an arm around Jiang Yao's waist, noticing something unusual.

Jiang Yao explained: “My apologies, just my shirt garters.”

Of course Shen Mo knew what a shirt stay was—he sometimes used them himself. The thought conjured an image in his mind: Jiang Yao's pale form, clad only in garters.

[Like a wanton creature.]

Jiang Yao's breathing grew heavier.

The drug hit harder than he'd anticipated. His wrists went weak, his body limp, and just as he was about to collapse, Shen Mo caught him—nearly carrying him bridal-style in his arms.

“You're not feeling well,” Shen Mo said.

Jiang Yao responded weakly.

Shen Mo picked Jiang Yao up and excused himself from the group. “I'll take my leave now. Merry Christmas. I won’t see you off when the ship docks tomorrow morning.”

The others saw them off with knowing looks. Simon, ever at Shen Mo’s side, stepped forward. “Sir, let me help.”

Shen Mo avoided Simon’s hand and carried Jiang Yao into the elevator. The latter’s body was burning up.

Shen Mo: “Running a fever?”

“Mmm… more like in heat,” Jiang Yao replied.

…

Jiang Yao was carried back to Shen Mo’s presidential suite. Ian was asleep in the adjacent children’s room, with Fu Xiaoen keeping watch at night. Hearing Shen Mo return, Fu Xiaoen opened the door just in time to see him carrying Jiang Yao into the room.

Jiang Yao was placed on the bed, and Shen Mo asked if he needed fever-reducing medicine.

Jiang Yao countered, “Do I?”

Shen Mo’s gaze lingered on his open collar, thinking, [I’ve heard a man’s rectal temperature can reach forty degrees when he has a fever.]

Jiang Yao patted Shen Mo’s face, the gesture flirtatious, as if toying with a paid-for plaything.

Shen Mo frowned. The moment he processed what Jiang Yao had done, a wave of violent possessiveness nearly swallowed him whole.

“What are you doing?” Shen Mo asked in a low voice.

Jiang Yao: “Sir, I’ve been drugged.”

[Drugged?]

“A love drug.” Jiang Yao’s flushed tongue swept over his lips. “Get me someone, now.”

Shen Mo narrowed his eyes. “Say that again.”

“What, not getting it?” Jiang Yao’s patience was wearing thin. The drug’s lethargy faded as arousal surged, leaving him restless and desperate. Frustration stripped him bare.

“I need to fuck,” Jiang Yao declared, lifting his leather shoe and pressing the red sole against Shen Mo’s chest. He ground it deliberately over the two sensitive spots, eliciting a muffled groan from Shen Mo. Jiang Yao liked that sound, and lifted his foot onto Shen Mo’s face.

Only then did Shen Mo shake off his concern and take in Jiang Yao’s state—flushed face, feverish breaths, the obvious bulge… and, under the drug’s influence, his usually dear butler’s utterly brazen behavior.

Jiang Yao dug his shoe in, distorting Shen Mo’s face, the toe dragging over his lips as if trying to pry them open and shove the shoe inside. “Or you could go wash up and service me yourself.”

Shen Mo gave a low, dark laugh. “Hope you won’t regret this later.”