Chapter 110: Trouble Comes Calling

The Song City district was situated in a different part of the city, and since I rarely came here, I hadn’t paid much attention to this so-called aristocratic entertainment zone.

Song City stood at a busy intersection, a prime location. The building itself soared over thirty stories, its exterior shimmering with gold and brilliance, resembling a magnificent rectangular palace bathed in splendor.

The flow of people in and out was endless. Most of the women who came here were breathtaking beauties of almost supernatural allure, or mistresses; otherwise, they were prostitutes. In any case, you’d hardly see a woman here weighing more than a hundred pounds.

When I arrived, I caught up with Jiaying, who was about to enter. Judging by her provocative outfit—her top baring her navel and ultra-short shorts—I had no clue what she intended to do. Back in my hometown, my grandparents probably wouldn’t have recognized her as their granddaughter, because the older generation would find such attire shameful.

“Zhao Jiaying, stop right there! Let me tell you a story to describe you!” I called out.

She stopped about three meters ahead of me, turned her head with a smile, and said, “Bro, you always like to use stories as metaphors. After all these years, you still haven’t changed. Go ahead, tell me how you’ll compare me. But remember, after you’re done, you have to come in with me and sing!”

Since I was already here, I couldn’t refuse to enter and sing with Jiaying. I tapped her little head and began: “There was a man who took a liking to a pot of sensitive mimosa plants. When he tried to touch the leaves, they didn’t move. Puzzled, he asked the owner why this mimosa was different from the others. The owner looked at the plant and said, ‘Oh, it’s probably because this one has a thicker face.’”

“You mean I have thick skin, right, bro? I call it being open-minded. You’re just as old-fashioned as grandpa and grandma. Since you’re done talking, come on in with me!” Jiaying said, grabbing my arm as we entered the KTV club.

Back in our small county town, the local KTV might look like a club on the surface, but behind the scenes, it was involved in flesh trade. That left me with some lingering shadows, so I always had a somewhat unconventional view of these upscale establishments.

Inside, the scene was impressive. The entire lower floor was a restaurant with hundreds of tables and private rooms—a bustling, prosperous atmosphere.

Unlike the dazzling exterior, the interior exuded an antique charm. It was clear that the owner of this thirty-story KTV was a man of refined taste; even the restaurant layout was elegantly arranged, creating an ambiance so captivating that one felt reluctant to leave.

Jiaying collected our card at the front desk, then linked her arm with mine and followed a young waitress to the elevator. Our room was on the ninth floor, and within seconds we arrived. After the waitress pointed out the room, she left, and Jiaying and I entered.

Jiaying immediately called in a large order of snacks and drinks, then made several phone calls. Turning to me, she said, “Bro, there are too few of us here; it’s too dull. You should call some friends over to join the fun. I’ve already contacted my girlfriends; they should be here soon.”

Looking around the spacious room, I agreed it was a waste to sing with just the two of us. I pulled out my new phone and called Er Peng and the others.

Time flew by quickly. By afternoon, our guests arrived one after another. It was clear Jiaying had invited her closest girlfriends, each incredibly sexy, dressed in ultra-short shorts, boasting long legs and alluring faces that made it impossible to resist their divine charm.

My twelve dorm buddies were hardly this well-behaved. Even Ma Shui, who had a girlfriend, was swept up in the lively banter with the girls, his eyes fixed intently on their every curve, never once looking away.

Jiaying’s guests were mostly female, allowing my friends the rare chance to chat with two girls apiece. It was sheer delight.

The standout was Xiao Qiang. Though not tall or imposing, he was the kind of man who clings on relentlessly, like a cockroach that’s hard to kill. Before long, he had won the hearts of several girls, aided by his sharp tongue and smooth talk.

But everyone was busy chatting and drinking. No one had touched the microphone, showing no interest in singing. So I stepped up, grabbed the mic, and said, “Friends, let’s have Gao Wei sing! He claims to be the most handsome singing king of our 306 dorm. What do you say?”

Gao Wei was a slacker, carefree and indifferent to the world, earning him the title of ‘Strongest Male Silver Award’ in our dorm—a top-tier male chauvinist.

As for his singing, well, you’d soon understand.

Hearing my call, Gao Wei, who was deeply engrossed in conversation with some girls, nearly dropped his jaw. But with so much enthusiasm from everyone, he couldn’t disappoint. He walked over, gave me a forceful shove off the stage with his backside, and muttered, “Kid, you don’t know I sing the worst songs in all of senior year four. Back in the day, I actually made one judge vomit blood at a social event.”

Others might not have heard this, but as a member of the demon clan, I could hear every word, even if they were whispered ten times quieter.

That social event had been a nightmare. In the second year of high school, the school held a singing contest at a mixer, requiring three representatives from each class. We nominated Gao Wei, who always dreamed of being a singer.

But that was the beginning of disaster. When Gao Wei sang, the judges covered their ears and signaled him to stop. Yet he stubbornly insisted on finishing the song. As a result, one judge suffered internal injuries and vomited blood. Gao Wei’s recording was later listed among the school’s top ten terrifying songs and was banned from playback, giving me cold sweats for three whole semesters.

Gao Wei began his performance: “You often say I’m perfect, no one can replace me. Everything I give, I thought, if I work harder, it’ll be more perfect. We will always be… perfect is not beautiful. How hypocritical we are. You turned my kindness into a sin…”

I wondered how such a beautiful song could come out so distorted in Gao Wei’s voice. It was unbearably awkward. One by one, the girls covered their mouths and fled, probably rushing to the restroom to vomit.

Watching Gao Wei’s performance reach its peak, I waved him off the stage with a grin and said, “Get the hell off, man. I didn’t expect your technique to still be this awful after all these years. You still can’t hit a note. You sing like you’re wailing at a funeral.”

Just as Gao Wei, embarrassed, dove into the crowd of women, trouble arrived.

Eight adults showed up, led by two classmates my cousin had called. The leader was holding onto them forcibly, which irritated me.

If those girls had gone willingly, I wouldn’t have minded. But I saw them trying desperately to slip out from under his grip. It was obvious—they must have ratted us out. Yet these people were reckless enough to find this place.

These girls were my cousin’s friends, some close friends, so as a man, I felt responsible for their safety. I stepped forward with a smile and said, “Friends, what is the meaning of this?”

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