Chapter 165 After Vomiting, Take Him Out

Chapter 165: After He Throws Up, Take Him Out

Shen Qingci’s brow furrowed even tighter, a faint crease formed between his brows. He spoke, his voice crisp and cold:

“Where?”

“Yanjue Bar.”

After Feng Yuetian gave the address, Shen Qingci stood up, leaning on his cane.

He held his phone as he walked out of the office, handing the bar’s address to his assistant at the door. His voice was crisp and cold:

“Contact the person in charge there. Pay them off.”

The assistant nodded and immediately went to do it.

Shen Qingci put the phone back to his ear and spoke to Feng Yuetian on the other end, his tone cool and commanding:

“How many people are around you?”

Feng Yuetian, drunk and dazed, was slumped over the booth, his eyes unfocused.

At Shen Qingci’s words, he lifted his head, groggy and confused, and realized that four or five people had somehow gathered around him.

One of them was very close, almost pressing against him, his arm draped over the back of the booth behind Feng Yuetian as if encircling him.

Feng Yuetian turned his head and found himself face to face with a leering man.

That face wore a grin so greasy you could scrape it off, his eyes filled with disgusting scrutiny and lechery.

Startled, Feng Yuetian sobered up a little.

“How about having some fun with us, pretty boy?”

The man reached out to touch his shoulder. The moment his fingers brushed Feng Yuetian’s collar, Feng Yuetian instinctively recoiled, but the back of the booth blocked his retreat.

A foul stench of smoke and cheap cologne hit him, churning his stomach.

“Blergh—”

He couldn’t hold it in and threw up, directly all over that man.

Liquor mixed with the filth ran down from the man’s collar in a mess.

The man started cursing loudly, sharp and piercing, even cutting through the noisy bar.

Shen Qingci’s brow furrowed even deeper as he listened.

The assistant stepped forward and whispered, “It’s taken care of.”

Shen Qingci said indifferently, “Stay put over there,” then hung up and stepped into the elevator.

Inside the bar, the man who had been puked on flew into a rage and rolled up his sleeves to throw a punch.

The bar’s security, having been notified, immediately stepped in to stop him. They pushed and shoved and cursed, drawing a crowd of onlookers.

Feng Yuetian slumped over the booth, crying one moment, laughing the next, grabbing a bottle and pouring alcohol into his mouth.

The liquor ran down his chin, soaking his collar, but he didn’t seem to notice, drinking one gulp after another as if trying to drown himself in alcohol.

Half an hour later,

Shen Qingci’s figure appeared at the bar’s entrance.

He stood at the doorway, leaning on his cane, his aura starkly incompatible with the raucous bar, as if from two different worlds.

The bar was dim, hazy with smoke, and the music was deafening. Yet he stood there like a beam of cold light, turning all the noise into mere background.

His slightly long ink-black hair cascaded over his shoulders, swaying gently with his movements.

Light spilled down from above, casting intricate shadows across his face. In the dimness, that face was breathtakingly beautiful—cold brows and eyes, pale lips, and a calm, unruffled gaze.

He leaned on his cane, step by step, walking in with composed grace, unhurried. The sound of his cane tapping the floor was drowned by the music, but with every step, people instinctively moved aside.

The bar fell silent for a moment.

All eyes were on him—admiring, appraising, curious, and even a hint of inexplicable awe.

Shen Qingci spotted Feng Yuetian still drinking.

He walked over, cane in hand.

The men who had been arguing with security saw Shen Qingci and their eyes went wide.

They thought Feng Yuetian was already stunning, but compared to this man, Feng Yuetian’s charm was nothing.

The light traced his slender, upright silhouette; his face was as cold as a figure stepping out of a painting, untouched by worldly dust.

The man who had been puked on gulped, instinctively straightened his collar, and stepped forward. But two meters away from Shen Qingci, a bodyguard blocked him.

An arm stretched across his chest, motionless as an iron wall.

Shen Qingci made his way to the booth with his cane. He looked down at Feng Yuetian, who was dead drunk, and spoke coldly:

“Let’s go.”

Hearing the familiar voice, Feng Yuetian lifted his eyes and, seeing Shen Qingci, gave a drunken, silly grin and took another swig.

Liquor spilled from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto his clothes.

“A Ci… you’re here…”

His tongue was thick, his words slurred as he shoved the bottles aside:

“Come… drink with me… boohoo… I’m so sad, I got dumped…”

His eyes reddened again as he spoke, tears mixing with alcohol, smearing across his face.

Shen Qingci glanced at the bodyguards nearby. Two of them understood and immediately stepped forward, grabbing Feng Yuetian by each arm.

Feng Yuetian was as limp as a pile of mud, muttering “one more drink,” “I’m not drunk,” and other nonsense.

No sooner had they lifted him than—

“Blergh—”

Feng Yuetian threw up again.

This time it was worse. Everything in his stomach surged up and poured onto the floor in a splatter. The sour, rancid smell spread as people nearby pinched their noses and backed away.

Shen Qingci took two steps back without changing his expression.

Then two more steps.

He watched with a blank expression as Feng Yuetian vomited all over the floor, a mess of liquor and vomit, without even a furrow of his brow—only the hand gripping his cane tightened slightly.

Then he turned, using his cane, and walked toward the door without looking back.

"Once he's done throwing up, take him out."

"Yes."

---

It was half an hour later when Feng Yuetian was dragged out.

Through the car window, Shen Qingci watched as two bodyguards hauled him out of the bar.

He was limp as a pile of mud, head drooping, legs dragging on the ground like a fish gasping its last on the shore.

He was still mumbling something indistinct, the slurred words unintelligible, but from the movement of his lips, it didn't seem pleasant.

Shen Qingci looked away and ordered flatly, "Find a nearby hotel and dump him there."

"Yes."

The car slowly pulled away from the bar and turned onto a quiet street. After a short drive, a hotel sign glowed softly in the night.

The bodyguards dragged Feng Yuetian into the lobby. The front desk staff were startled by the scene, but after one of the bodyguards handed over a card, they quickly settled down and efficiently checked him in.

Feng Yuetian was dragged into the room and thrown onto the bed. He rolled over and hugged a pillow, still muttering curses, until his voice grew tearful.

Shen Qingci stood at the door, not entering.

He glanced at Feng Yuetian on the bed, then at the closed bathroom door, and said to the bodyguard, "Clean him up."

The bodyguard hesitated for a moment before speaking. "President Shen, I'm a man... wouldn't that be inappropriate?"

Shen Qingci looked up at him, his gaze indifferent yet enough to make the bodyguard instinctively straighten up.

Then Shen Qingci realized—Feng Yuetian was into men now, so it really wasn't appropriate.

He averted his gaze and said calmly, "Then contact Chu Yinzhan. Have him come clean him up."