He was being difficult on purpose. He had to be. And he wasn’t just being difficult—he was being weird too, weird enough for even Zhang Weiran to notice it. He kept leaving to go to the bathroom, and Weiran would hear these faint noises which he immediately recognized as throwing up. The first time, he’d stood up to go after him, took a few steps toward the bathroom—but then he stopped. What would he even do to help? Hell, should he even try helping in the first place? Did he want to? He was honestly half-pleased that Liu Xiaokai was miserable. Bastard was getting a taste for himself the kind of suffering Liu Xingyu went through his entire childhood. “No,” Weiran said. “You know that’s not what I mean. Why are you a sex worker? You can’t possibly need it for the money.”

Xiaokai smiled. “Would you believe me if I said it was because I enjoyed it?”

Weiran studied him. He had a thin sheen of sweat over his forehead—not so bad that it would be noticeable for someone farther away, but since Weiran was stuck in the same room with him, he couldn’t help but see it. Couldn’t help but see the several times he took out his stupid little handkerchief and wiped at it. And he was absolutely calm. He seemed to be busy working through the paperwork, but there was something off about the smile he was giving him—like he was forcing it. “No.”

“Why?”

“There’s no way someone as important as you would be that reckless.”

“Except,” said Xiaokai, that fake smile slowly stretching wider, “I am that reckless, aren’t I?”

“Are you physically incapable of giving a straight answer?”

“I might be.”

Weiran glared at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. You wouldn’t like the real answer, anyway.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“Listen,” said Xiaokai, “just…don’t worry about it. I’ll give you the names, you’ll type it all up, and then I’ll get out of here.”

“I just thought, well. Since you’re so high up in the company, it’s weird that you’d do something that only the low-ranking people in the List do.”

“Oh, is that what you heard?”

“And you’re high up in the List too, so—”

“Zhang Weiran, really. Drop it. The next name is Kang Haichi.”

Weiran didn’t move to write it down. “If Xingyu is going to inherit Liu Baiyan’s position and is going to learn all of this, why can’t you just tell me?”

Xiaokai’s mouth twisted up and then dropped his papers onto the table. “I don’t want to see your face after I tell you.”

“You don’t want to—what? What’s wrong with my face?”