Chapter 2: Do Not Touch My Body

When a person succumbs to laziness, they truly lose all desire to do anything. Living each day in utter boredom gradually erodes one’s sense of belonging to society, and a strange feeling, as though abandoned by the entire world, breeds emotions like emptiness, loneliness, and fear. Li Huan didn’t complain much about life—not because he lacked grievances or didn’t feel his fate unfair, but because he always remembered a piece of advice: if you want to be someone who can hold your head high before others, you must endure hardship and exhaustion, and above all, learn to bow your head when necessary.

His one and only pleasure was stripped away by a damned accident. Staring at the battered surface of his desk and the heap of burnt components, he felt a headache coming on, and had no choice but to haul his ruined computer and monitor down to the garbage pile—floor by floor. This was the fifth floor, and there was no elevator!

After tidying up his room, Li Huan was drenched in sweat, his trousers smudged black around the crotch. He hurried to take a cold shower, and when he emerged, glanced at the clock—seven o’clock. There was still an hour before work started; if he left now, he’d make it in time. He made himself presentable, pushed open the door labeled “The Spring Garden Cannot Be Shut In,” and stepped out.

Su Dieyi’s door was tightly closed. Li Huan glanced at it, shrugged, and opened the apartment’s security door to head downstairs. The setting sun lingered stubbornly at the edge of the clouds, like a hero aging before his ambitions were fulfilled. Li Huan looked around, his gaze sweeping over the bustling crowd, and suddenly felt out of place. The sky over this city seemed oddly foreign to him, even after nearly four years of living here—he still hadn’t fully adapted.

Passing through a bustling commercial street, he saw plenty of people browsing the shops at this hour. Couples strolled together, and Li Huan found himself glancing at them, feeling both envious and cynical. A voice echoed in his mind: “This isn’t the life you can have—you’re not even qualified to envy it!”

The only answer was a bitter smile on his face. Thinking of his burnt computer soured his mood further. What a world—catching a virus just from watching a film! Damn those seductive photos of Miss Aoi. He’d seen plenty of women already!

Li Huan worked at a commercial entertainment center called “Backstreet,” a stretch lined with venues for leisure and indulgence: nightclubs, bars, cafés, all sorts of clubs, dazzling and diverse. It was a district where day and night blurred, as if the city itself was isolated in this place.

Here, the nightlife was even more wild and extravagant than the day. Neon lights flashed, streets glowed bright; walking past the stores, a person was bathed in a surreal, illusory aura. Unfortunately, under the lights, it was hard to distinguish the women—they all seemed beautiful!

At seven-thirty, Li Huan reached his workplace. The street lights hadn’t yet been switched on, but the store’s colored lights were already shining. At the entrance stood two greeters; though it was still daylight, the lights gave their faces extra radiance, their skin flawless, their looks outstanding. The elegant white cheongsams they wore were embroidered with plum, orchid, bamboo, and chrysanthemum, their tall figures and full chests accentuated by the tight fabric, curves drawn taut. High slits on either side rose to the hip, revealing long, straight legs up to the thigh—without showing their underwear. Whether their lingerie was cleverly hidden or absent altogether, it only made them look all the more seductive. Passersby, men and women alike, couldn’t help but steal extra glances.

Li Huan stood at the entrance, beside the shop’s sign—a huge LED screen glittered with brilliance, not yet dazzling at this hour, displaying only the four words “Dancing With Wolves,” accompanied by an image of a snow wolf howling at the sky, striking in its visual impact.

Soon, the blank section above would begin to cycle through photos of the club’s featured hostesses. Li Huan had no interest in waiting for the display to change; he simply walked up. He ignored the odd looks from passersby. As he passed the entrance, the two greeters smiled and nodded—whether out of recognition or professional habit, he wasn’t sure. He glanced at one of the girls, nodded, and quickly walked inside.

It wasn’t yet opening time, but the place was still accessible to the public. The interior was open and straightforward: a vast hall crowned with large crystal chandeliers—each costing tens of thousands, he’d heard. The central chandelier, supposedly designed by a renowned European artist, was so expensive Li Huan didn’t dare count the zeros.

The entire hall exuded luxury and grandeur, surrounded by long bar counters, with rows of booths in the middle, and a large stage. This was an entertainment club themed around bars. A few tables were already occupied by guests, but since business hadn’t officially begun, only drinks and fruit platters were served.

Li Huan went past the bar to the staff lounge in the back, changed into his work uniform, and settled in an office chair. The lounge was a small private room—the manager’s office, though not his own. His senior, a strong and capable woman, managed the bar—a woman not easily trifled with.

After sitting for a while and seeing that his senior hadn’t arrived, Li Huan stood up. In a sharp suit paired with a white shirt, his demeanor had changed completely—now mature and composed, with an unmistakable masculine appeal.

Leaving the lounge, he was greeted by a flamboyantly dressed man. Not particularly tall—just over one seventy centimeters—with smooth long hair that half-covered his face, eyes rimmed with makeup, his gaze a little dissipated. But seeing Li Huan, his eyes lit up, and he hurriedly jogged over, clearly excited.

“Huan-huan, you’re here! Why didn’t you come yesterday? I missed you!” The flamboyant man draped an arm over Li Huan’s shoulder as he spoke, his voice soft and piercingly feminine, making Li Huan tense up and instinctively guard his backside.

Li Huan glanced at the man, noting the needy expression and the seductive look in his eye. The hand on his shoulder wandered toward his chest, making Li Huan shudder. He shifted to evade the man’s wandering fingers.

Instinctively, Li Huan pressed his back against the corridor wall and said, “I was off yesterday—slept all day. So, how much did you make last night?”

The flamboyant man eyed Li Huan’s backside, saw his evasiveness, and pouted before breaking into a smile. He coyly extended a hand—his gesture oddly feminine, pinky finger raised—“Guess!”

“How the hell would I know? Five hundred? Not bad—enough for a bottle of Chanel Coco!” Li Huan suppressed his urge to ruin the man’s makeup and guessed.

“Ugh, I’m a real man, okay?” The flamboyant man, known as Xiao Yu, pouted his equally flamboyant lips in protest, but quickly brightened. “I worked hard—of course it’s more. Five thousand! That lady was loaded!”

Hearing Xiao Yu claim to be a real man made Li Huan shudder. Not all men are “real men”—the first time he met Xiao Yu, Li Huan abandoned his twenty-one years of old-fashioned thinking. This messed-up society breeds all sorts of unusual people, and now he could accept it calmly—even befriend them, as long as his boundaries weren’t crossed.

Xiao Yu was an exception—a good kid, only eighteen, but raised among women, naturally inclined toward femininity. In this line of work, he thrived, attracting plenty of “attention” from older women.

Li Huan was startled by the amount Xiao Yu reported. In this club, earning five thousand in one night wasn’t unusual, given the wealthy clientele—but it usually came at the cost of one’s body. Xiao Yu’s job, like Li Huan’s, didn’t involve “going out” with guests, so five thousand in tips was quite high!

“I don’t make that much in a month,” Li Huan sighed, glancing at Xiao Yu’s face—so alluring it could be called beautiful. Such looks drove women crazy, as lethal as the pretty boys from Korea, only Xiao Yu was softer, more feminine. With a little makeup, no one would take him for a man.

“Then let me treat you to dinner, or take you shopping! I’ll buy you clothes, okay?” Xiao Yu’s delicate face bloomed with a smile. If not for his “real man” status, even Li Huan might be tempted. The first time they met, Li Huan had mistaken him for a woman and even approached to chat—only to be laughed at by all his colleagues, unable to lift his head for a week.

“No thanks… Li Gang, over here!” Li Huan shook his head—he dared not go shopping with such a flamboyant companion, the risk was too great. Seeing a man approaching behind Xiao Yu, he waved him over.

Noticing Li Huan’s gesture, Xiao Yu turned to see a tall man walking over, his pretty brows furrowing, lips pouting as he muttered, “Annoying!”

Li Huan paid no mind. When Li Gang arrived, he didn’t greet Li Huan, but instead draped an arm over Xiao Yu’s shoulder, pinched his cheek, and said in a deliberately affected tone, “Xiao Yu, your face is getting softer and softer—I just want to give you a kiss!”

Li Huan nearly spat in disgust—his ears couldn’t take it. How was he supposed to work tonight after hearing that? But Xiao Yu’s next words nearly made Li Huan collapse—it was a blow of catastrophic proportions.

“Get lost! I told you, don’t touch my **!” Xiao Yu’s delicate face feigned anger, but from Li Huan’s perspective, it was clearly a declaration of feminine sovereignty.

Furthermore, he actually used the word “**” to refer to himself…

Damn it! Worldview shattered! Young man, where have you lost your decorum?