Chapter 8

Today, the booth was packed, and a few who couldn’t fit sat around standing. As soon as everyone saw William Harris arrive with such a crowd, they knew who was coming, and all stopped their games, turning to look back in unison.

Although they’d heard about it from William Harris beforehand, seeing Matthew Clark in person still made many people widen their eyes in surprise.

Matthew Clark was about their age, but in everyone’s mind, he was already someone from their fathers’ generation.

While they were wearing ripped jeans and hanging out at milk tea shops near the school, Matthew Clark was already dressed in a suit, appearing at business events and chatting with other big bosses. He was always a step ahead, mature and steady, cool and self-possessed—the textbook “model child.”

Most of those present were the city’s rich kids, who’d heard their parents mention Matthew Clark’s name countless times. Now that he’d fallen from grace, no one could help but watch the spectacle.

Even though the booth was full, a seat was still saved for Ryan Miller. When he arrived, everyone tactfully made way for him to take the center spot.

Ryan Miller ignored the people behind him, walked straight to his seat, and, feeling the stares around him, said, “What the hell are you looking at?”

“Looking at how handsome you are, obviously.” A friend beside him laughed and handed him a cigarette. “Want one?”

Ryan Miller took the cigarette, and someone immediately lit it for him.

He’d just taken a drag when someone bumped his outer thigh.

Matthew Clark walked over to his side as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

But since Ryan Miller didn’t say anything, no one dared to give up their seat for him.

Ryan Miller blew smoke in Matthew Clark’s direction. “No seats left. Go stand outside.”

Seeing Matthew Clark’s expression unchanged, everyone immediately understood—Ryan Miller wasn’t joking with them; he really had Matthew Clark wrapped around his finger.

Seeing this, two men sitting in the corner couldn’t help but whisper to each other.

“…Is it really okay for Ryan Miller to treat Matthew Clark like that?”

“The Qin family’s already bankrupt. What could possibly happen?”

“But I heard Matthew Clark has a lot of connections and is pretty capable. It wouldn’t be hard for him to make a comeback. If Ryan Miller offends him like this, and Matthew Clark rises again… wouldn’t that be the end?”

“Tch.” The other man sneered, lowering his voice. “If anyone’s screwed, it’s Ryan Miller, not us. We’re just here for the show—don’t get involved.”

Seeing Matthew Clark unmoving, Ryan Miller said impatiently, “Didn’t you hear me? Don’t stand there getting in the way…”

“Hurry up.” William Harris stood up to cut him off, waving at the person to Ryan Miller’s left. “Move over and make room for Matthew Clark! Come on!”

Knowing William Harris was smoothing things over, Ryan Miller flicked his ash without a word. Seeing he had no objection, the person next to him carefully made space.

“Oh my god.” As soon as Matthew Clark sat down on the other side, William Harris couldn’t help tugging at Ryan Miller’s sleeve, lowering his voice in excitement. “It really is Matthew Clark! Xiao Ranan, you’re incredible! You’re amazing! Tomorrow, let’s go to BenSe, and you bring Matthew Clark—let those old ladies see what’s up!”

BenSe was the gay bar William Harris frequented.

“Go by yourself.” Ryan Miller didn’t mix with William Harris’s crowd of sisters. He glanced around and said, “Why the hell did you invite all these freaks?”

They usually hung out at nightclubs, just a few rich, reckless regulars blowing money and having fun. They played hard, but there were limits. But today, several notorious troublemakers had shown up—short of murder and arson, they’d done just about every bad thing you could name.

Back when they’d just started college, this group pestered Ryan Miller every day. Ryan Miller only put up with them to have more racing partners. Once he found a proper racing club, he stopped associating with them.

It wasn’t out of fear—just that it was a hassle. He didn’t want to get into trouble and have his perpetually busy father bail him out.

“It wasn’t me who invited them.” William Harris knew when to be serious. “They were at the next table and insisted on joining us. Then someone blabbed about Matthew Clark, and now there’s no getting rid of them.”

Ryan Miller said, “Bored idiots.”

No sooner had he spoken than one of the “freaks” piped up.

“Ryan Miller, you’re late today.” The man rested his hand on his female companion, not very proper, and raised his glass with the other. “You owe three drinks, right? Come on, I’ll drink with you!”

This was the ringleader, George Bennett, the most troublesome of the lot. His dad spent a fortune every year bailing him out.

Ryan Miller smiled, a hint of disdain in his eyes, though the lighting was too dim for most to notice. He said nothing, just picked up a fresh, full glass and downed it in one go.

George Bennett immediately raised his hand, clinking glasses with Ryan Miller from across the table.

After drinking, George Bennett held his glass out to his companion. The scantily clad woman hurried to pick up the bottle and pour for him.

Ryan Miller raised an eyebrow and turned to the person beside him. “Hey.”

Matthew Clark crossed his legs elegantly, as if he were at a high-end restaurant’s negotiation table rather than a noisy nightclub. “Hmm?”

“Pour me a drink.” Ryan Miller tapped the bottle with his fingertip.

All eyes turned their way. Matthew Clark merely glanced at the glass, then unhurriedly uncrossed his legs, picked up the bottle, and filled his glass.