A girl in ultra-short leather pants and a strappy crop top slid onto the stool across from Jiang Fan.

Oversized metal hoops glinted on her delicate earlobes, catching the bar lights in a kaleidoscope of sparkles.

Jiang Fan kept polishing a glass, not looking up. "I’ve got a few sugar mommas saved in my contacts. But ‘dream girls’? Nah. Born in ’03—I’d get played by those veterans."

Lin Mengyao propped her chin on one palm, elbow planted on the counter. Her snow-white thigh peeked over the barstool edge. Eyes lined with smoky lilac shadow studied him, amused.

"Ehh~ Really? Then… how about me? Secret’s out—I’m actually loaded. Oh, and I’m ’04. No worries now, right?"

"Not impossible," Jiang Fan said, setting down the polished glass and grabbing another. "If you wipe out my three-million-yuan debt? I’ll walk out with you right now. Might be worth the price. First come, first served—no second chances."

Half-joke, half-test. Rich aunties were cunning as ancient spirits. This underclassman from his school? Easier prey. If Lin Mengyao meant it… why not? His gambler dad’s debt would take him till doomsday to clear alone.

"Three million?" Lin Mengyao’s first concrete number. Her allowance couldn’t buy him—not until she turned eighteen or graduated, when Dad might trust her with that kind of cash.

"Is that hesitation… interest?" Jiang Fan paused wiping, grinning as he watched her frown. He’d already tucked his offer back into joke territory.

Predictably, Lin Mengyao’s pride flared. She’d never admit liking anyone.

"You’re overthinking. Just wondering which fool would pay that much for *you*."

"Shame." He resumed polishing, chuckling dryly. "Thought you might be that fool. Guess my dream sugar mommy’s still a mirage~~"

Lin Mengyao shot him a glare. *He’s doing this on purpose!* Even considering his offer proved she cared. Stupid.

"Hmph! I’m thirsty. Usual drink. Now."

Jiang Fan smiled faintly—no comfort offered. He smoothly pulled a bottle of gin, poured it into her signature rock glass, then garnished it with a chilled lime wedge and a single ice cube. He slid it over, bartender-mode perfect.

"Your gin and lime. Enjoy."

Strong for students, but Lin Mengyao had grown up at her father’s business dinners. Alcohol was old news.

"...Your smile’s still unfairly distracting," she muttered under her breath. Anyone who knew her icy reputation would’ve dropped their jaws. Who’d believe the aloof Lin Mengyao could look this… well-behaved?

Jiang Fan heard her. He’d never explain that secret—it was a matter of personal safety.

Silence settled. Thanks to Lin Mengyao’s presence, customers avoided the bar. Jiang Fan’s tips were bleeding out. If he got sold into debt slavery later? She’d deserve a third of the blame.

"Bored just standing there?" She sipped the clear liquor through a straw, breaking the quiet.

"Boredom’s the same everywhere." Jiang Fan polished another glass. *Actually, no orders = no slacking off visibly.* Even if he totally was.

"...True. Same everywhere." She nodded slowly, chewing on his words. This bar held little joy for her—but it was *less* dull than home. Or anywhere else. Maybe because of the young bartender.

She ditched the straw, tipped the glass back. Her throat worked above the black collar around her neck, a flash of wild elegance. Gin dripped from the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away carelessly—a messy, magnetic motion.

"Dance with me."

"I don’t dance. Bar rules forbid staff accepting guest requests." He stressed it: "Docked pay."

But the gin had lit a fire in her. Her natural dominance surged.

"Rules? Screw ’em! How much’s your monthly salary? I’ll pay it!" She slapped a black membership card onto the counter—maxed at 100,000 yuan. A fortune in this student haunt.

Jiang Fan wouldn’t say no to free cash… if his phone hadn’t chosen that moment to chirp:

*🎵 Two tigers love to dance~ (Hey~!) / Little bunny pulls radishes~ (Yeah~!) 🎵*

The nursery rhyme cut through punk-rock noise like a glitter bomb. Every head turned toward his budget Xiaomi.

Jiang Fan killed the ringtone calmly. He pointed at the screen’s time display.

"Clocking out. Sorry—my cat’s waiting for dinner."

Lin Mengyao: …