Chapter 64: The Barefoot Have No Fear of the Shod

Shen Xian possessed an inner strength that was impervious to the opinions of others; he cared not for his own public persona, nor for the judgments outsiders might pass upon him. Yet his dignity, paradoxically, was fragile beyond measure. Years of misery had rendered his heart acutely sensitive.

The actions of Qi Zhengqing had wounded that pitiful, threadbare dignity. Zhou Wan saw that although Shen Xian was smiling, his eyes were icy cold, brimming with a violent rage. She had known him for some time, but never before had she seen him like this.

Qi Zhengqing, too, was experiencing something new—a first, hearing someone tell him to get out.

He narrowed his eyes, approaching Shen Xian slowly, his gaze aggressive and oppressive, staring straight into Shen Xian’s eyes. Shen Xian met his gaze without fear.

Qi Zhengqing’s eyes possessed an innate air of aristocracy, the commanding superiority of one accustomed to looking down from above. It was the gaze one might cast upon livestock, upon an ant, upon a fish gasping its last in the shallows. There was no pity there, only cold indifference.

To Qi Zhengqing, the scion of Beijing’s elite, people like Shen Xian were not truly people, but beasts of burden. Cogs in the machinery of his privileged existence, thousands upon thousands of Shen Xians forming the foundation that allowed him to stand at the pinnacle.

“Are you talking to me?” Qi Zhengqing asked.

Shen Xian pointed to the door. “You can leave now.”

Qi Zhengqing shook his head with a smile, fixing Shen Xian with his gaze. “Shen Xian, if I were you, I’d mind my own business and not entertain any foolish hopes. Zhou Wan may be an entertainer, but that’s the path she chose. She’s not from the same world as you.”

Shen Xian replied, “What if I insist on interfering?”

Qi Zhengqing’s smile deepened. “Then you’d do well to think carefully—are you truly ready to stand against me?”

Zhou Wan stepped forward, placing herself between Shen Xian and Qi Zhengqing. She spoke firmly, “Qi Zhengqing, since you’re here tonight, let me make myself clear. No matter what you have in mind, even if it costs me my life, I will never agree.”

Qi Zhengqing grew serious. “You ran from Beijing to enter the entertainment industry, against your family’s wishes. But since you’ve chosen this profession, you must consider your future. Besides, your parents are well aware of my intentions, and they don’t object. Do you know why?”

Zhou Wan fell silent.

The Zhou family in Beijing had always been involved in traditional industries, now facing the challenge of transformation. The best partner for that transformation was the Qi family. Everyone in the Zhou family was in favor of Zhou Wan and Qi Zhengqing being together.

“There’s no need to say more. Let’s go,” Zhou Wan said.

Qi Zhengqing shook his head, his gaze returning to Shen Xian. “Are you really going to stand in my way?”

Shen Xian nodded. “Outside, I don’t care what you do. But this is my home. If you want to cause trouble here, you’ll have to get my permission first.” With that, he turned and walked inside, rummaging through drawers and cabinets. Before long, he returned, holding a kitchen knife gleaming coldly under the lights.

As he spoke, Shen Xian tossed a certificate onto the floor before Qi Zhengqing.

South City Fourth Psychiatric Hospital.

“Even if I kill you tonight, I won’t go to jail,” Shen Xian said with a cheerful smile.

The two bodyguards immediately stepped forward, shielding Qi Zhengqing, their vigilance heightened.

Qi Zhengqing narrowed his eyes, staring at the certificate.

The bodyguards eyed the knife in Shen Xian’s hand, feeling a twinge of unease. Was he really mentally ill? If a lunatic attacked someone, it wasn’t a crime. They suspected the certificate might be a fake—but they dared not gamble on it.

Qi Zhengqing dared not gamble either. Who was he? An elite, a young lord of Beijing’s upper crust. And Shen Xian? An orphan, talented perhaps, but still a man from the bottom rung.

If a conflict broke out, even at the cost of both sides, it simply wasn’t worth it.

Zhou Wan never expected Shen Xian to possess such spirit, standing protectively before her.

Looking at his back, she felt an overwhelming sense of safety. To be protected by someone—it was a wonderful feeling.

Qi Zhengqing’s gaze grew cold, threatening as he stared at Shen Xian. “Shen Xian, it seems you don’t want your Idle Clouds Studio anymore.”

Shen Xian shrugged. “I don’t mind. People like you, those from the upper echelons, care about face, reputation, persona, and image. No matter how filthy you are behind closed doors, how despicable your methods, you all present yourselves to the world as benevolent, charitable, donating everywhere to win public favor. If your image takes a hit—even your personal image—it can affect your company’s stock prices.”

“But I’m different. I’m not like you. I can live well enough on three thousand a month. I only need to care about my own feelings, not the opinions of others.”

“So tonight, no matter what happens between us—even if blood is spilled—it doesn’t matter to me. But as for the price, I doubt you can afford it.”

Shen Xian spoke at length.

Qi Zhengqing understood his meaning. Shen Xian was saying: “I have nothing to lose. If conflict breaks out, you stand to lose far more.”

Qi Zhengqing squinted, conceding the logic in Shen Xian’s words. It was his first time dealing with someone from the so-called lower classes.

Among Beijing’s young lords, even when hatred ran deep, even when they wished to annihilate each other’s families, they would not openly resort to violence. Their weapons were commerce and politics—not, as Shen Xian did, knives and brute force.

In Qi Zhengqing’s eyes, brawling like common dogs was beneath him. To tangle too much with Shen Xian would only bring loss upon himself. If word got out in Beijing’s circles, he would become a laughingstock.

Imagine—Young Lord Qi, lowering himself to a physical altercation with a nobody over a woman, even though that woman was Zhou Wan.

And she was, after all, a mental patient.

Wouldn’t that make him a laughingstock?

So Qi Zhengqing hesitated. Every threat he had prepared was swallowed back.

To suppress Shen Xian’s career? That would be beneath him. And Shen Xian had said it himself—he could live well on three thousand a month. He simply didn’t care.

Those who are reckless, who have nothing to lose, are the ones to be feared.

“So, what other threats do you have?” Shen Xian said with a smile. “Young Lord Qi, you ought to consider your reputation and your image. People like me are mud on the ground—I’d be happy to get entangled with you, stir up some controversy, and make headlines: ‘Young Lord Qi clashes with me over Zhou Wan.’”

“I believe the public would be quite interested in that story. I could even become an internet celebrity, take up live streaming and sell products online.”

“I wouldn’t lose, in fact, I’d profit greatly.”

“But you, Young Lord Qi, might not be so fortunate.”

Standing there, kitchen knife in hand, Shen Xian exuded the air of a lone defender, holding the pass against thousands.

Qi Zhengqing fell silent.

He had to admit, Shen Xian’s grasp of human nature was frighteningly precise. Every word he spoke struck at Qi Zhengqing’s softest spot.

The two bodyguards exchanged glances, and although they said nothing, they had to concede that Shen Xian’s reasoning was sound.

Qi Zhengqing stared hard at Shen Xian, who met his gaze unwaveringly.

Suddenly, Qi Zhengqing broke into laughter.