Moments later, the club’s manager arrived in a hurry—
and beside him was Victor Wen.
Victor had been in another room with Simon earlier.
When Simon didn’t return, he went looking,
only to bump into the manager and follow him to the commotion—
only to find Simon standing there,
and Vivian Wen beside him.
“Who dared cause trouble in my club?!” the manager barked.
“It was him! He hit me!” the Joy Media boss shouted, pointing at Simon.
The manager turned toward Simon, frowning deeply.
He didn’t recognize the man.
After all, the true owner of the club—Simon Min—rarely showed his face in public.
Even the staff had never seen him.
He opened his mouth to question—
but Victor raised a hand, stopping him.
“I’ll handle this,” Victor said quietly.
The manager blinked, hesitated, then stepped back obediently.
If only he knew—
the man standing beside Victor wasn’t some “guest.”
He was the president of Huasheng Group—the one who owned this club,
and half the buildings on the block.
Victor gave Simon a sidelong glance.
He rarely lost his temper.
Whatever had happened must have crossed a serious line.
Victor turned to the furious Joy Media boss, still holding his swollen jaw.
“You say this gentleman hit you. Any witnesses?”
“What? Are you calling me a liar? There are cameras everywhere—check the footage!”
“Ah,” Victor said smoothly, smiling. “Unfortunately, the cameras… are broken tonight.”
He looked around.
“Anyone here see anything?”
The manager froze, then shook his head.
Every waiter followed suit, heads bobbing in unison.
“Then it must’ve been a misunderstanding,” Victor said pleasantly.
“Let’s all just forget it, shall we?”
“Who the hell are you to decide that?!” the drunk shouted.
Victor’s smile never faltered.
“Victor Wen, General Manager of Huasheng Entertainment.”
The man’s expression collapsed.
Color drained from his face.
Huasheng Entertainment.
The biggest company in the industry—
and his tiny Joy Media, a low-budget web-drama outfit,
was barely a flea by comparison.
He’d been trying for months to secure a meeting with anyone from Huasheng—
and tonight, by some miracle, he’d insulted its general manager.
Panic flooded him.
He began bowing, sweating, stammering.
“Mr. Wen—sir—I… I didn’t know it was you! My mistake entirely! I’m so sorry!”
He slapped his own face—lightly, but enough to make the gesture.
“Please, forgive me. I drank too much!”
Victor’s eyes narrowed.
“So, we’re clear then?”
“Clear? What’s clear? Nothing happened tonight, sir. Nothing at all!”
He turned, forcing a shaky laugh toward Simon.
“You hit me? Hah! Best thing that’s happened to me all night!
Taught me a lesson. Thank you, brother!”
Victor chuckled coldly.
“We’re done here.”
He motioned to the manager, who bowed and hurried away.
The Joy Media boss scuttled off like a beaten dog.
Once clear, the manager whispered nervously,
“Mr. Wen… do you know who that man really was?”
Victor’s eyes gleamed with meaning.
“Don’t ever cross him. If you value this club, keep your head down.
Offend that man, and he’ll shut you down before dawn.”
The manager stiffened, cold sweat trickling down his neck.
Just who was that man?

Outside, Vivian helped the dazed Sister Liang toward the exit.
Halfway to the curb, the older woman lurched forward and threw up beside a tree.
When she was done, Vivian handed her tissues.
“Are you all right, Sister Liang?”
Liang wiped her mouth, her eyes slowly clearing.
She glanced sideways at Vivian—
there was something complicated in that look, almost searching.
Then she asked, voice hoarse,
“You… don’t have anything you want to ask me?”