The Abused Villain is Always Obsessed with Me - Chapter 14

Crimson neon tubes spelled out the shop’s name in flamboyant strokes, while amber glass wall lamps cast a dim yellow glow against the black marble facade.

Feng Hechi glanced up at the sign:

Mist Alley

The owner had a literary flair.

This was the bar Manna had recommended. Judging by the exterior, the owner had decent taste. Combined with Manna’s insistence on high standards, they likely wouldn’t be easy to deal with.

It was just past six in the afternoon. Bars typically opened around eight, leaving nearly two hours—more than enough time for an interview.

Feng Hechi pushed open the door. A copper bell hanging inside chimed crisply as the door swung open and shut.

The bar had windows, but they were tightly curtained, blocking out all daylight. Only a small lamp illuminated the bar counter, where a figure sat.

Feng Hechi approached the counter. The black walnut surface was spotless, and behind it stretched a glass wine cabinet covering the entire wall, displaying an impressive array of liquors, including several rare vintages.

“You’re Feng Hechi?”

The person on the high stool swiveled around, scrutinizing Feng Hechi from head to toe.

Feng Hechi nodded in acknowledgment. The man before him had slightly wavy hair, wore frameless glasses, and sported a stubble-covered face. A cigarette dangled unlit from his lips, giving him a somewhat disheveled appearance.

Leaning against the bar with his cheek propped on his hand, the man asked, “Manna’s boyfriend?”

“Just a friend,” Feng Hechi replied.

“Hmph.”

The man scoffed, neither confirming nor denying the claim. He turned and gestured toward the liquor cabinet behind the bar with a nod of his chin.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

Feng Hechi stepped behind the bar, his fingertips gliding over the row of crystal-clear glasses. He casually selected a few, turned, and opened the liquor cabinet. A bottle of amber-colored rum settled firmly in his palm.

The crisp sound of ice clinking against the shaker filled the air as the shaker danced between his slender fingers. With a flick of his wrist, the silky-smooth liquid cascaded down, refracting the overhead light.

As the rum poured into the chilled glasses, a fine layer of condensation formed on the glass walls. Feng Hechi ran his thumb along the rim, placed a twist of orange peel on top, and slid the glass across the bar to the seated owner.

Throughout the entire process, neither man spoke. The owner picked up the glass, brought it to his lips, and took a sip.

By then, Feng Hechi had already moved around the bar, pulled up a high stool beside the owner, and leaned back casually, his gaze sweeping over the bar’s decor.

The owner set down the glass and turned to look at Feng Hechi.

“Have you studied this before?”

Feng Hechi replied lazily, “I’ve read a lot about it and practiced a few times. I guess you could say I’ve studied it.”

“Quite modest,” the owner chuckled. Anyone who knew wine could tell with a single sip that this man’s skill far surpassed that of the bartenders he’d hired before. It was almost a pity he hadn’t pursued bartending professionally.

“What’s your desired salary?”

Feng Hechi pondered for a moment. “Enough to pay off 100,000 yuan in three years would be fine.”

The owner burst into laughter, clapping Feng Hechi on the shoulder. “Not greedy at all! Then I’ll give you the highest salary we pay our bartenders. Forget three years—I’ll have you pay it off in half that time!”

Feng Hechi’s lips curved into a slight smile. “I’m truly grateful.”

The owner glanced at his wristwatch. “Perfect timing. I’m about to open anyway. You can start working tonight.”

Feng Hechi nodded in agreement, then asked, “What about the bartender who was scheduled for tonight?”

When Feng Hechi had entered, he’d noticed a schedule posted on the wall, showing different bartenders assigned to each day.

“I’ll tell him someone’s about to be unemployed.”

The owner stretched lazily as he stood up, picking up the half-finished glass of wine from the table. “Oh, and remember to write down the recipe for this drink. We’ll add it to the menu.”

Feng Hechi smiled. “The honor is mine.”

The bar at night was like an awakened island, its waves of sound and light intertwining as the clamor of voices boiled around them.

At a distant booth, a group of young women leaned forward, peering toward the bar.

“Hey, did they change the bartender tonight? I’ve never seen this guy before.”

“Yeah, he looks new. Probably just hired him.”

“He’s pretty hot. Let’s go hit on him.”

The man behind the bar had an impressive physique—broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a lean, tall frame. The bar’s standard uniform looked like haute couture on him. He kept his head down, meticulously polishing a glass with a white microfiber cloth. The seats across the bar were already full.

“Hey, handsome! New here?”

A girl with a high ponytail grinned, leaning over the bar and propping her chin in her hand as she watched his movements.

“You’re the thirtieth person to ask me that tonight,” Feng Hechi replied, glancing up at her with a faint smile.

The girl’s smile widened. “Wow, what a coincidence! Is there a special reward for that?”

“I’ll make you a drink that’s not on the menu. But you’ll still have to pay.”

Feng Hechi winked at her, his smile unwavering. The girl, already dizzy from his handsome face, cheerfully pulled up an empty chair and sat down.

“Alright! If you make it well, I’ll give you an extra tip.”

Lu Cang inserted the key into the lock, turned it clockwise, and opened the door.

The room was pitch-black.

He stood at the doorway, momentarily stunned. At this hour, Feng Hechi was unexpectedly not home.

Lu Cang flipped on the living room light, set down his backpack, and sat on the edge of the bed. The silence in the room was unnerving; the windows were tightly shut, not even the sound of wind could be heard.

He stood up again and walked to the window, looking down. The street was eerily quiet, with only a few occasional passersby, none of whom were familiar.

Lu Cang glanced up at the wall clock.

It was past eleven.

He hesitated for a moment, lifting his hand and then lowering it. Finally, he made up his mind, walked to the desk, and pulled out his phone from the drawer.

This phone had been a gift from his mother when he was still in middle school. Though outdated, he cherished it, always keeping it carefully stored in the desk drawer when not in use.

He lit up the screen and opened his contacts. There were only two numbers saved: one labeled “Mom” and the other simply marked with a period.

He tapped the second number, his hand hovering over the call button, unable to press it.

The number had been saved when his mother was still alive, but he had never dialed it. Even seeing the number used to make him nauseous, let alone actually calling it.

Lu Cang stared at the screen, took a deep breath, paused for a second, and then took another deep breath.

His fingers trembled slightly, but he finally pressed the call button. When the dialing screen appeared, his body jolted, and he quickly pressed the phone to his ear, holding his breath.

The line rang with a busy tone. Lu Cang’s eyes fixed on the wall clock, watching the second hand sweep slowly yet swiftly around the dial. When it had completed three-quarters of a revolution, the call connected.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end was languid, with a slightly rising intonation at the end and a magnetic, nasal quality.

Lu Cang’s breath caught in his throat, and he momentarily forgot to speak.

“Hello?”

When there was no response, the voice on the other end sounded slightly puzzled and repeated the greeting.

Lu Cang finally snapped out of his daze, his hand unconsciously tightening around the phone. “Uh, when are you coming back?”

A moment of silence hung in the air before the reply came: “Lu Cang?”

They had always addressed each other with casual “hey” or “hello.” Feng Hechi had never called him by his name before.

When he spoke Lu Cang’s name, his tone shifted, unconsciously slowing his pace. The two syllables seemed to linger on his tongue, carrying a hint of languor and a slightly husky quality, like the soft brush of fingertips against the nape of his neck, sending shivers of tingling sensation through Lu Cang.

Lu Cang froze, suddenly feeling as if his chest were constricted, making it difficult to breathe.

“Mm,” he murmured in response, then, remembering something, added, “You didn’t know it was me?”

Had Feng Hechi not saved his number, or had he simply not bothered to add a contact name? Lu Cang’s eyes darkened, his knuckles tightening slightly.

“Ah,” came the brief reply from the other end. “I didn’t check the caller ID.”

So that’s it.

Lu Cang didn’t even realize his brow, which had unconsciously furrowed at Feng Hechi’s earlier words, had relaxed again.

He opened his mouth to say something more when suddenly a cacophony of noise erupted from the other end of the line—music, various voices, and even the faint sound of a woman’s voice.

Lu Cang’s movements froze, his voice instantly turning cold.

“Where are you right now?”