Chapter 11: Why did I kneel down?

Genting Pavilion.

Liu Wangjiang’s gaze lingered on “Xiao Yan’s” face for two seconds. No trace of her existed in Nanbo City’s second-gen circle. An outsider.

All eyes converged on them, curiosity buzzing about this stunning stranger who’d zeroed in on him.

Her beauty was undeniable—her face, from a man’s perspective, was liquid charm, enough to quicken any pulse.

But those dark eyes, locked on him, burned with undisguised malice, as if she harbored a vendetta.

She’s trouble.

The thought flashed through Liu Wangjiang’s mind.

He didn’t take her lace-gloved hand. Instead, he grabbed a champagne flute from a passing waiter, handed it to her, and clinked glasses. “Hello, Ms. Xiao. Have we met?”

“You don’t know me, but I know you.” “Xiao Yan” accepted the glass, her tone deliberately intimate. “I’m Qingqi’s friend.”

Qingqi’s friend?

His hired muscle.

Liu Wangjiang had suspected this banquet was a trap.

He knew Lu Qingqi too well—petty, obsessed with status, high on his own ego but lacking substance, with a chuunibyou streak. A grudge, no matter how small, festered in him until he retaliated.

His mind raced, but outwardly, only a moment passed. Liu Wangjiang steeled himself. Whatever she’s planning, I’ll counter it.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Xiao?”

“Xiao Yan” sipped her champagne, the cold liquid doing little to quell the glee in her eyes.

The seed of revenge in her heart sprouted wildly, vines of anticipation coiling around her nerves, delivering a dark, feverish thrill.

She set down her glass, tracing circles on its rim. “Nothing much. I just felt such a connection to Mr. Liu that I wanted to share a story.”

Liu Wangjiang raised an eyebrow, his composure unshaken. “I’m all ears.”

“I’m a psychiatrist.” “Xiao Yan” met his gaze, her eyes sharp as a blade. “A doctor’s intuition is keen. The moment I saw you, Mr. Liu, I thought of a certain type. People who hide things—gloomy, repressed, craving release.”

Psychiatrist? Another Zhang Junfang?

Liu Wangjiang’s brow twitched.

That last encounter with Zhang Junfang was a headache—dissecting him through the villa’s layout. If this “Xiao Yan” had real skill, his plans could be at risk.

His faint smile held, but his voice turned flat. “Then, Dr. Xiao, what am I hiding?”

Lu Qingqi, hidden behind “Xiao Yan,” eyed his taut jaw and sneered inwardly.

She couldn’t read minds—how could she know his thoughts?

But soon, Liu Wangjiang would do whatever she commanded, turning her bluff real.

“Xiao Yan’s” lips curved, her voice soft but piercing, like a stone rippling a still lake. “You’re like those who seem cold as ice, keeping everyone at arm’s length, acting uninterested in women, but inside…”

She lingered on the last word, her gaze flicking to his Adam’s apple. “…you hide an uncontrollable desire, especially for submission. In psychology, we call it masochism.”

Liu Wangjiang’s mouth twitched, barely noticeable.

He’d braced for a clever play, not crude slander and lewd gossip.

Classic Lu Qingqi move.

The second-gen circle was tight-knit; a scandal like this would be tomorrow’s hot gossip.

So, Qingqi invited me just to have this “socialite” smear me in front of everyone?

Petty as ever.

He glanced around. The second-gens’ eyes gleamed with intrigue, some smirking already.

Lu Qingqi was nowhere in the crowd—likely lurking, watching him squirm.

“Xiao Yan” flicked her champagne glass, the sharp ding seizing attention. She raised her chin, voice rising. “Everyone, look here! I’ll count to three, and a certain masochist will kneel in public—”

“3!”

Eyes locked on them, most amused.

“2!”

Lu Qingqi’s voice quivered—not from fear, but from electric excitement.

If I can’t swap your gender, I’ll humiliate you in public!

You tried to steal my girlfriend back then? I’ve held this grudge for a decade!

Your reckoning’s here, Liu Wangjiang!

“1!”

As the word landed, she closed her eyes, channeling all her mental energy into a single, ruthless command, hurling it at Liu Wangjiang—

Liu Wangjiang, kneel before me!

She could almost see his elegant smile pale, his knees buckle in public, the hall erupting in shock. The thrill made her tremble.

But no uproar came.

Instead, a sharp pain shot through her as her own knees slammed into the cold marble floor.

A muffled thud echoed in the silent hall.

Her smile froze.

She opened her eyes, stunned, to find her gold-heeled feet twisted awkwardly, her knees pressed to the floor.

Silence gripped the room, then snickers broke out, growing into a wave of mockery.

Liu Wangjiang stood above her, looking down, a mix of surprise and confusion in his eyes. Even he seemed caught off guard.

One of us will kneel in three counts.

And now… the masochist kneels?

This is Qingqi’s hired help?

He’d expected a smear campaign, but this scene was… shocking.

Lu Qingqi’s pupils shrank, fists clenched, mind reeling.

Why didn’t it work?

Why am I kneeling?

Why?!

The jeers pierced her ears like needles, the crowd’s mocking, curious, amused stares chilling her blood.

She looked up at Liu Wangjiang’s perfectly baffled expression, humiliation searing through her.

Why?

He should be the one kneeling, disgraced! Why am I the clown?

“No… impossible…” she gritted out, voice low. He’s supposed to be the one who can’t show his face, not me!

The shame clawed up her spine, burning her ears, but rage burned hotter.

“Ms. Xiao, please stand.” Liu Wangjiang, unsure of Lu Qingqi’s game but mindful of the birthday setting, extended a hand.

His words lit a fuse.

“Xiao Yan” snapped her head up, eyes blazing with manic malice. She screamed inwardly: Kneel! Bark like a dog!

She poured every ounce of mental strength into a fiercer, more desperate command, slamming it at Liu Wangjiang with reckless fury.

She could “see” the invisible force rushing his knees, almost hearing them crack as they bent.

But the vision shattered.

Liu Wangjiang didn’t budge.

Instead, she moved. Her swan-like neck tilted, eyes misty, lips parting under the second-gens’ gazes. She gently took his index finger and let out a soft, suggestive—

“Meow~~”