chapter 3

Zhan was sitting at the bottom of a booth decorated with white plastic chairs, watching short videos on Instagram. He yawned and stretched, feeling very tired of sitting. He didn't understand why his father, Mr. Xian, had called the driver to pick him up from the university and bring him here.

Earlier that afternoon, Zhan had been sitting in the back of the car at around 2:30 when Lee, the driver, received a phone call. Zhan had overheard bits of the conversation. "I'm taking the young master home from school," Lee had said. Then, after a brief pause, "Okay, sir." The car had then taken a different direction than usual.

Lee hadn't explained anything, and Zhan, in his typical spoiled manner, hadn't bothered to ask. After about 20 minutes, they arrived at a small house surrounded by men in black suits and sunglasses. It looked like something out of a spy movie, and Zhan felt a mix of curiosity and irritation.

"We're supposed to wait for Mr. Xian here," Lee had informed him curtly before getting out and sitting next to the gate man, not sparing Zhan a glance.

Feeling ignored and unimportant, Zhan had gotten out of the car and wandered over to the booth with white plastic chairs, where he now sat, scrolling aimlessly through social media. His mind drifted back to the times when his father's actions didn't seem so mysterious, and he wasn't left in the dark about family matters.

Zhan sighed, wishing his father had let him go home. He didn't care about whatever business his father had here. He just wanted to be away from this place, away from the cold stares of the suited men and the indifferent attitude of the driver.

Minutes turned into an hour, and Zhan grew more restless. His thoughts wandered to the new driver, Lee Wang. He couldn't understand why his father had chosen someone so stoic and detached. Zhan missed their old driver, Ling, who had always been friendly and engaging. Lee, on the other hand, seemed to view Zhan as just another task, another part of his job.

Lee's calm demeanor and indifference irritated Zhan. He felt a need to assert his dominance, to show Lee that he was the boss here. But for now, he just sat there, feeling powerless and bored.

Eventually, Lee approached Zhan, breaking the silence. "Young Master, Mr. Xian will be here soon. He asked me to keep an eye on you."

Zhan rolled his eyes, mumbling, "Like I care." He didn't look up from his phone, trying to maintain his façade of indifference.

Lee remained standing nearby, his posture rigid and attentive. Despite his irritation, Zhan couldn't help but notice the driver's unwavering professionalism. It was as if nothing could shake him. This only made Zhan more determined to get under his skin.

"Why do you always act like a robot?" Zhan finally snapped, looking up at Lee. "Don't you have any emotions?"

Lee's expression remained neutral. "I'm here to do my job, Young Master. Your father expects professionalism."

Zhan scoffed. "Yeah, well, it's boring. You could try being a little more human."

Lee didn't respond, and Zhan felt a surge of frustration. He wanted to provoke a reaction, to see some crack in the driver's stoic façade.

Before Zhan could say more, Mr. Xian's car pulled up. He stepped out, his expression serious. "Zhan, come here," he called.

Zhan got up reluctantly, stuffing his phone into his pocket. He walked over to his father, feeling a mixture of curiosity and irritation. "What's going on, Paa?"

Mr. Xian placed a hand on his shoulder. "There are some things you need to understand, Zhan. Family matters that are important."

Zhan frowned, confused. "Why didn't you just tell me at home?"

"Because some things require privacy," Mr. Xian said, glancing at the men in black suits. "Let's go inside."

As they entered the small house, Zhan's mind raced with questions. His father's secrecy and the presence of those men made him uneasy. But more than that, he felt a growing irritation towards Lee, who seemed unfazed by everything.

Inside, they sat down in a modest living room. Mr. Xian began to explain some of the family business dealings, things Zhan had never been privy to before. Despite his initial disinterest, Zhan found himself listening intently, realizing that there was more to his father's world than he had ever known.

Meanwhile, Lee waited outside, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever. He knew his role, and he would perform it to the best of his ability, no matter how much the young master tried to provoke him.

Zhan's mind was a whirlwind of new information and emotions. He felt a strange mix of respect for his father and frustration at being kept in the dark for so long.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn't shake the thought of Lee, standing outside, always calm, always professional.

For the first time, Zhan wondered what it would take to make the driver crack, to see him react with something other than indifference.

And for the first time, he considered that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Lee Wang than met the eye. He vowed to be a leech on his skin.

***

Zhan was lounging on the plush sofa in the main living room, scrolling through his phone when Lee walked in. Without looking up, Zhan snapped, "Get me a drink."

Lee stood there for a moment, his face impassive. "I'm your driver, not your servant."

Zhan's eyes flashed as he looked up, annoyed. "Just get it, okay? Or do I have to tell Paa you're not doing your job?"

Lee's jaw tightened, but he turned and walked to the kitchen. He returned with a glass of water and handed it to Zhan, who took it without a word of thanks. As Lee turned to leave, Zhan muttered, "You could at least pretend to be useful."

Lee paused, taking a deep breath. "If you need anything related to driving, let me know. Otherwise, don't expect me to be at your beck and call."

Zhan smirked, reclining further into the sofa. "We'll see about that."

Over the next few days, Zhan's behavior became more demanding. He would call Lee at odd hours, make unreasonable requests, and constantly belittle him. Lee, maintaining his composure, fulfilled his duties but refused to engage in Zhan's provocations.

One evening, as Lee was about to head to their chalet, Zhan intercepted him. "I need you to drive me to my friend's place," he ordered.

Lee checked his watch. "It's late, and I was told to wake up early tomorrow for Mr. Xian."

Zhan crossed his arms, a defiant glint in his eyes. "I don't care. You're my driver too, remember?"

Lee sighed, realizing resistance was futile. "Fine. Get in the car."

As they drove through the city, Zhan continued his tirade. "I don't get why my father hired you. You don't even know your place."

Lee's hands tightened on the steering wheel, but he remained silent. His patience was wearing thin, but he knew he couldn't let Zhan get the better of him.

Finally, they reached Zhan's friend's house. Zhan got out, slamming the door behind him. "Wait here. I'll be back in a few hours."

Lee watched him go, a sense of dread settling in. He knew this was only the beginning of a long, difficult journey with the spoiled young master.

Over the next few weeks, Zhan's behavior continued to test Lee's patience. Zhan's friends, equally spoiled and reckless, would often join him in the car, making loud, disrespectful remarks about Lee and treating him like he was invisible.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting day, Lee was summoned by Zhan to drive him and his friends to a party. Lee arrived at the designated spot, where Zhan and his friends were waiting. As they piled into the car, Zhan ordered, "Take us to the club downtown. And step on it, we're already late."

Lee gave a brief nod and started the car. The journey was filled with obnoxious laughter and loud music, but Lee kept his focus on the road, his face expressionless.

When they arrived at the club, Zhan tossed a careless "Wait here" over his shoulder as he and his friends disappeared inside. Lee parked the car and settled in for what he knew would be a long night.

Hours passed, and it was well past midnight when Zhan finally stumbled out of the club, visibly drunk, with his friends trailing behind him. Lee got out and opened the car door for them. Zhan barely acknowledged him as he collapsed into the back seat.

The drive back was quiet, except for the occasional groan from Zhan. When they reached the mansion, Lee helped Zhan out of the car and supported him up to his room. As he laid Zhan on the bed, Zhan mumbled, "Why do you even bother?"

Lee paused, looking down at the young master. "Because it's my job," he replied simply.

Zhan's eyes fluttered closed, and Lee left the room, closing the door softly behind him. He sighed deeply, heading to his chalet.

The next morning, Zhan woke up with a pounding headache. He vaguely remembered Lee helping him the previous night. Feeling a mix of irritation and something he couldn't quite place, he decided to confront Lee.

He found Lee in the garage, checking the car. "Why did you help me last night?" Zhan demanded.

Lee looked up, meeting Zhan's gaze. "Because you needed help."

Zhan scoffed, crossing his arms. "I didn't ask for it."

Lee straightened up, wiping his hands on a cloth. "No, you didn't. But it was the right thing to do."

Zhan frowned, taken aback by the simplicity of Lee's response. "Just... don't think this means I like you or anything," he muttered before turning and walking away.

Lee watched him go, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He knew it would take time, but perhaps there was a chance for Zhan to change, even if just a little.

Zhan continued to boss Lee around, often giving him difficult tasks and complaining about everything Lee did. He didn't like Lee's calm demeanor, which made him feel as though he couldn't get under his skin.

One afternoon, Zhan demanded Lee take him and his friends to a distant beach. The trip was long and tiring, with Zhan and his friends making a mess in the car and being generally disruptive.

When they finally arrived, Zhan ordered Lee to carry their beach gear and set everything up. Lee did so without complaint, even when Zhan intentionally made things more difficult.

As the day wore on, Zhan's friends started to notice Lee's patience. "Your driver is pretty cool-headed, huh?" one of them remarked.

Zhan shrugged, not wanting to admit it. "He's just doing his job."

Despite his attempts to maintain his spoiled attitude, Zhan couldn't ignore how reliable Lee was. This began to eat at him, creating a conflict within himself that he couldn't easily resolve.

That night, as they headed back home, Zhan found himself watching Lee in the rearview mirror. For the first time, he wondered what kind of person Lee really was. But he quickly pushed those thoughts aside, determined not to show any sign of softening.

Back at the mansion, Zhan got out of the car and turned to Lee. "Remember, you work for me," he said, trying to assert his dominance one last time.

Lee nodded. "Of course, Young Master."

Zhan walked away, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion. He knew he was being unfair, but admitting that would mean confronting his own insecurities, something he wasn't ready to do yet.

***

Lee stood up as Paa emerged from the house, followed by an elderly woman. "Mother, this is the new driver I hired," Paa said, gesturing towards Lee.

The old woman scrutinized Lee from top to bottom before nodding approvingly. "He looks strong. Let's hope he's calmer than Ling," she remarked. Lee bowed his head in greeting.

The old woman smiled warmly, "But you look so fair, almost like you have mixed blood with whites, don't you?" Lee shook his head with a polite smile, indicating No. She patted his arm gently, "Take good care of my family, okay?"

Paa then guided his mother back inside, saying, "We'll be leaving now, Mother." They exchanged their goodbyes, and Lee promptly opened the car door for Paa before getting into the driver's seat and starting the engine.

Zhan stormed into Paa's living room, frustration etched on his face. "Paa, I need to report this new driver," he began, not waiting for a response.

Paa looked up from his papers, mildly interested. "What about him?"

"I asked him to take me and my friends shopping, and he ignored me. Yang was there too," Zhan complained, sinking into a chair.

Paa remained silent, his gaze fixed on Zhan. The door to the living room creaked open, and Zhuo walked in. "Welcome, Son," Paa greeted him warmly. As Paa and Zhuo delved into a discussion about Xian Empire, Zhan felt increasingly ignored. He left the room, pouting.

Entering his mother's room, Zhan's frustration hadn't abated. "Mama, Paa didn't do anything about that new driver. I'll drive myself from tomorrow. I'll take another car," he declared, storming out before his mother could respond.

In the kitchen, Zhan saw Yang standing by the window while the cook prepared a plate of food. "Who's that for?" Zhan demanded.

Before the cook could respond, Yang interjected, "It's for the new driver."

Zhan's face twisted in anger. "Is he eating here too?

Who told you to give him this Mansion food? Put it back!" he ordered the chef coldly.

Turning to Yang, he added, "Tell him he doesn't have a portion of food in this house."

Yang, feeling defeated, turned and left the kitchen. The chef, saddened, put the food back.

Zhan grabbed a plate, served himself some food, and left the kitchen in a huff.

Outside, Yang stood with a heavy heart, dreading his next interaction with Lee. As if sensing something was wrong, Lee approached Yang with a slight curve at the corner of his lips. "I'm feeling like eating pizza. Want some, Yang?" he asked.

Yang snapped out of his thoughts, surprised. "Ah, yes... yes, I don't mind some either."

Lee smiled, "Okay, give me a few minutes. I'll be right back."

Yang watched as Lee walked away, a mix of relief and admiration filling him. Despite everything, Lee remained unflustered, handling the situation with calm grace.

***

Mrs. Xian stepped out of the mansion, dressed impeccably, clearly ready to go somewhere important. Yang and Lee were engaged in a casual conversation when Mrs. Xian's voice rang out, calling for the driver. Lee quickly stood up and approached her. She scrutinized him from head to toe, then glanced at Yang.

"Is he the new driver?" she inquired.

"Yes, Mrs. Xian," Yang replied.

"Okay, Mr. Lee...," she started.

"Just call me Lee, Mrs. Xian," Lee interrupted her politely.

She smiled. "Okay, Lee, we need to leave now."

Lee nodded, turning towards the car to start it. Mrs. Xian took out her phone, dialing someone as she waited. Zhan emerged from the mansion, looking every bit the handsome teenager with his long hair styled in a ponytail. He glared at Lee as their eyes met. Mrs. Xian settled comfortably into the back seat, but when Zhan attempted to do the same, his mother interjected.

"Sit in the front, Zhan."

"Mama, I will be more comfortable at the back," Zhan pouted, putting on his shades to accentuate his beautiful face.

Lee drove the car out of the mansion carefully. Thirty minutes later, they arrived at a busy street filled with apartments and shops, bustling like a marketplace. Lee opened the car door for them, and Mrs. Xian stepped out first, followed by Zhan.

"We'll be a while, go and come back later," Mrs. Xian instructed Lee.

"I will wait, Mrs. Xian, do not worry," Lee replied.

She nodded, and they disappeared into the apartment building in front of them.

Shortly after, Zhan received a call from He Peng, inviting him to meet at a nearby hotel. Eager to leave without his mother knowing, Zhan hurriedly exited the apartment. He didn't spot Lee near the car but eventually found him sitting by a fruit seller's stall, watching him with a straight and stoic expression. Zhan hated Lee's dominance and aura.

"Hey, give me the car key. I need to go somewhere quickly and come back," Zhan demanded.

Lee glanced at the fruit seller as if Zhan was speaking to him instead. Rage filled Zhan.

"How dare you ignore me when I'm talking to you?" he shouted.

A small smirk escaped Lee's lips. "Are you talking to me, Young Master?" he asked mockingly.

Zhan's anger escalated, his whole body shaking. Lee remained silent, not meeting his gaze. Desperate to assert himself, Zhan noticed a plastic bucket full of water that the fruit seller used for washing fruits. He smirked, grabbed the bucket, and threw the water over Lee's head, soaking him entirely.

The bystanders gasped, watching the scene unfold. Zhan, still fuming, shouted, "How dare you make me look like a mad person talking to myself? Who do you think you are to ignore me when I am talking to you?"

Lee remained silent, his wet form a stark contrast to Zhan's furious outburst.