Chapter 10 – The Sugar Daddy
That night, Shu Mingyang came home with a heavy heart.
The moment he opened the door, he saw the living room carpet piled high with luxury-brand handbags and shoes, like a miniature mountain. His three dogs were busy fighting over a Jimmy Choo stiletto as if it were a chew toy.
And there, lying in the middle of the pile of clothes and bags, was Liang Xiaomiao, wearing an old leather skirt and playing games on a brand-new iPad. When she saw him, she shot him a spoiled, almost mocking look.
"It's already nine o'clock! Little Shu, you're so not behaving. Coming home this late—were you trying to starve me to death?"
Shu Mingyang frowned. "You haven't eaten yet? I told you there's food in the kitchen."
"But I don't like the kitchen," she pouted. "It's always greasy in there. I wanted to wait for you to bring me food."
Then she tossed a brand-new Hermès wallet at him. "Come on, hurry up and get me something to eat!"
Without even taking off his shoes, Shu Mingyang went to fetch her dinner. She took a few bites of the reheated spaghetti with meat sauce, wrinkled her nose.
"It's been sitting too long. Doesn't taste good. Don't you have anything better?"
"I can't cook," Shu Mingyang replied. "That's what the housekeeper left before she left for the day. If you don't like it, I can order takeout."
"Great, then I'll have pizza!" she said excitedly. "And make sure they add lots and lots of cheese."
He placed the order, then glanced at her lying comfortably on the carpet playing games. He'd planned to wait until after she ate to bring up the subject that had been weighing on him all day—but it had been gnawing at him so much that he'd been distracted at work. He hated the feeling of being emotionally manipulated, so he couldn't help himself.
"Xiaomiao, I have something I want to ask you."
"Ask away." She didn't even look up from the screen.
He sighed, crouched down, and pulled the iPad from her hands. "This is serious. Can you be a little more focused?"
Seeing the look on his face, she stuck out her tongue. "Is this about me spending too much today? Sorry, it's just—I haven't gone shopping in ages and kinda lost control. I don't usually spend this much… at least not in one day, haha."
Her words lined up exactly with the question he'd been about to ask, so he jumped in.
"You mean you've had other days like today, where you dropped hundreds of thousands on clothes and bags?"
"Yup. Why?" she said lazily, stretching out on the carpet.
His stomach sank. "When I met you, you were just a street singer without even a coat for winter. So… who's been paying for all those luxuries?"
She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "You've probably already guessed, so let's skip the act. Men—like you—gave me the money. Yes, that's right, I'm exactly what you guys call a gold digger."
A chill went through him. "And… how many times have you done this kind of thing before?"
She thought for a moment, counting on her fingers. "Including you? Fourteen."
"Don't include me," Shu Mingyang said sharply, standing up. "I'm not like the men you've gone after before."
Xiaomiao sat up, leaning on one arm, smirking. "Oh, you're mad now? What are you mad about, exactly? Mad I spent too much and you feel the pinch? Or mad I'm not that pure, innocent girl you men love to fantasize about?"
"I'm mad you don't value yourself at all!" he burst out. "You're barely in your twenties—you have youth, energy, a future—and instead of working for it, you're wasting it on this kind of cheap shortcut. Have you thought about what happens when you get old? Think anyone will still spend money on you then?"
"When I get old, I'll just die!" Xiaomiao shot back, standing to face him. "I told you this morning—I don't need you dictating my life! I like spending my youth this way, so what? Don't pretend you know me or care about me—you don't know what kind of person I am at all!"
"I don't need to know, because all girls like you are the same!" Shu Mingyang's voice rose. "I thought you were just going through a rough patch and I wanted to help you. I didn't think you were… this."
"You picked up a stray street singer and expected her to be Snow White?" she sneered. "Shu Mingyang, let's get one thing straight—I've never pretended to be a good girl in front of you. I've always been a bitch. If I disappointed you, I'm sorry—go find that morally upright, self-reliant girl of your dreams."
With that, she grabbed her old, worn-out bag and stormed out.
Shu Mingyang rarely lost his temper like this. Now he felt exhausted—partly from her reckless attitude toward life, partly from the bitter disappointment. He'd finally let himself fall for someone, only to discover… she was like this.
And yet, as his anger cooled, regret crept in.
Had he been too harsh? Maybe he should have listened to her first instead of jumping straight to accusations…
He was still tangled in conflicting emotions when the front door suddenly swung open again. Xiaomiao was back.
Before he could speak, she held up a pizza box, her face expressionless.
"Your delivery came. But I'm not eating it—since you said you're not like the other sugar daddies I've had, I wouldn't want to taint your reputation. Keep it for yourself."
Then she flipped open the box and, without hesitation, hurled the entire pizza into his face.
As her footsteps retreated quickly down the hall, Shu Mingyang wiped cheese from his face, looked at his messy hands, and let out a long, weary sigh.
Xiaomiao went back to her old haunt—a dark, echoing tunnel.
Her former bandmates were hanging out there, same as always. Without a word, she walked over and kicked An Yi until he made room, then flopped down with her head on his lap.
Pai En stared at her in disbelief. "Failed? No way! Our Kitty never fails. That rich boy was really that tough to crack?"
Xiaomiao's cold face curved into a sly smile. "Me? Fail? This is called playing hard to get. Wanna bet he'll come crawling to me before this time tomorrow?"
Pai En clutched his pockets. "No way—I've never won a bet with you."
"Boring," Xiaomiao snorted. Then she noticed someone next to her. "Ma Qi, you're back. Did you eat yet? Any leftovers?"
But the girl beside her didn't answer.
"Ma Qi?"
"Huh? What did you say, Kitty? Sorry, I spaced out." Ma Qi's eyes were wide, her face still shadowed with fear.
Xiaomiao narrowed her eyes at her for two seconds—and then understood. She suddenly sat up and started pulling at Ma Qi's clothes.
Ma Qi struggled, but couldn't match Xiaomiao's strength. In the end, her injuries were exposed: her back covered in dark bruises, and fresh, bleeding cuts on her arm like they'd been made with something sharp.
Xiaomiao's rage flared, but she kept her voice low and tight. "Your brother hit you again?"
Ma Qi hung her head in silence.
Xiaomiao turned to glare at Pai En and An Yi. "Are you two idiots? She's like this and you didn't take her to the hospital? Or tell me?"
Pai En rushed to explain. "She didn't want to worry you. I kept saying we should go, but she refused—said if the hospital made the news, it'd hurt her family's company and shame her parents."
"Shame her parents? Those two old bastards just sat there watching their son beat their daughter, and they think this is what would shame them? And on Christmas, no less! Did they sell their consciences to a dog?"
Pai En lowered his voice. "You know they've always been like this. Don't blame Ma Qi—getting her to move out in the first place was hard enough."
"I know, I'm not blaming her." Xiaomiao gently touched Ma Qi's face. The girl's eyes were already brimming with tears.
Xiaomiao's voice softened. "Don't be afraid. I'll protect you. I'm sorry—if I'd known this would happen, I'd never have let you go home. Tell me—what cut your arm?"
Ma Qi choked out, "My brother smashed a wine bottle, then kicked me. I fell onto the shards."
"And your parents were right there?" Xiaomiao asked quietly.
Ma Qi froze, then nodded, tears spilling over. "I… I brought them Christmas presents, just wanted to see them. But they wouldn't even let me eat dinner. Then my brother came over and hit me. They just sat there watching TV, didn't even let the servants stop him. I finally escaped, but he took all my things, so I waited on the street all day until someone gave me a ride back… Kitty, what did I do wrong? Why do they treat me like this?"
"I've told you—you didn't do anything wrong. They are the ones in the wrong." Xiaomiao stroked her hair. "I'll have Pai En take you to the hospital this time. Your injuries are too serious. Please, just listen to me, okay?"
After a long look, Ma Qi nodded.
Once Pai En left with her, Xiaomiao turned to An Yi. "Give me your bike keys."
Without a word, he tossed them over. "Going after her brother? Need backup?"
Xiaomiao smirked. "Trash like that? I can handle him alone. Stay here and wait for Ma Qi. Call me if anything happens."
"Got it."
She strode out, found An Yi's Harley parked by the roadside, and roared off into the night.
An hour later – the wealthy suburbs of a nearby city
A Lamborghini sped down a deserted road, sleek and predatory like a panther. But then—bad luck. The car hit something under a streetlight. The front tire blew out.
The driver, a tall, freckled young white man with brown hair, jumped out, cursing. He bent down and saw a steel-wire rope stretched across the road.
"Who the hell put this here? If I find you, I'll beat you to a pulp!"
A lazy voice came from the shadows. "Beat me to a pulp? Andrew, I really doubt you have the skill."
Andrew's face darkened when he saw her. "You again, Liang Xiaomiao! Here to avenge my idiot sister?"
"You guessed it." She weighed the wine bottle in her hand. "And don't you dare call her that in front of me. Anyone who beats his own sister is the real idiot."
Andrew laughed. "So what if I hit her? That bitch is nothing in my family. My parents only care about me! She's just a girl—worthless! Coming home on Christmas to butter them up and fight me for the inheritance? Not a chance! If she comes back again, I'll kill her. And if you come at me, I'll beat you too!"
Xiaomiao knew there was no point talking to this moron. She smashed the bottle against his Lamborghini.
Andrew sneered. "One bottle? That's your weapon? I box, you know."
Xiaomiao pulled a lighter from her pocket. "I know. That's why you're not my target. Didn't notice my bottle wasn't full of wine?"
He froze, then sniffed the air—gasoline.
"Wait, don't—"
Too late. The lighter flew, flame touching fuel. In a heartbeat, fire engulfed the car's front half.
"My car! I waited half a year for this!" Andrew screamed.
"Really? Then I'm so glad."
"You bitch! Worse than my sister! I'll kill you!" He lunged at her.
"If I were you," Xiaomiao said calmly, "I'd be thinking about putting out that fire."
He hesitated, then cursed and ran off to find an extinguisher.
Sitting astride the Harley, silhouetted against the flames, Xiaomiao's voice was ice.
"Andrew—hit your sister again, and next time, it won't be your car I burn."
"You bitch! You're dead!" he yelled from a distance.
She smirked. "Don't worry. I'll make sure I die after you."
Would you like me to also smooth this into a more cinematic, Western-style pacing so it reads like an English-language thriller rather than a direct translation? That would make it even more gripping.