chapter 4

The cold water dripped from Lee's hair, seeping into his clothes, but his expression remained stoic, his head still bowed. His entire demeanor was unflinching, as if the deluge hadn't affected him in the slightest.

The bustling market around them went silent, the vibrant hum of life drowned out by the tension between the two.

Zhan stood before him, his chest heaving with anger, a triumphant glare in his eyes. He spoke with a venomous tone, "You know you'll lose your job after this, right? Today, tomorrow—soon enough, I'll make sure Paa hires a new driver and kicks you out. You don't deserve to work in our house."

A murmur spread through the small crowd that had gathered, drawn by the spectacle of a wealthy young man humiliating a servant.

The fruit vendor, a wiry man with silver streaks in his hair, shook his head in disapproval and spoke up, his voice steady, "But you have no dignity, no kindness, no respect for human decency, and no discipline."

Zhan's eyes narrowed, his gaze locking onto the fruit vendor. "Are you talking to me, old man?" he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You think you can lecture me about being a decent human? What do you know about my life? Stay out of my business, or do you want to force me into something I'm not?"

The vendor stood his ground, unafraid. "It's not about forcing you into anything. It's about understanding that no amount of wealth can excuse cruelty or arrogance. You're young, but if this is the kind of person you've become, then your wealth is worthless."

Others in the crowd began to murmur in agreement, their anger toward Zhan growing. One man, his face flushed with frustration, shouted, "If being rich means treating people like this, then I'd rather stay poor! What kind of upbringing have you had?"

The voices around Zhan grew louder, condemning his actions, their anger fueled by his arrogance. Yet, he remained defiant, his expression hardening as he yelled back, "I don't care what you think! You have no right to judge me! I can do whatever I want with my driver."

But the words felt hollow, even to Zhan himself.

The crowd's disapproval pressed in on him, suffocating his sense of superiority. His anger turned inward, and he realized with growing discomfort that his plan had backfired. Not only had he failed to assert his authority, but he had also become the villain in the eyes of these strangers.

He turned on his heel and stalked away, refusing to acknowledge the lingering stares or the disapproving murmurs that followed him.

His thoughts raced as he crossed the street, the sharp sting of humiliation mixing with his rage. How was he supposed to face He Peng now? He didn't want to take a taxi—doing so would only feel like another defeat.

As he walked, he noticed Lee trailing behind him, silent and watchful.

The driver's calm demeanor only fueled Zhan's frustration further. How could someone remain so composed after such humiliation? He clenched his fists, feeling a burning desire to lash out again but knowing it would be pointless.

Meanwhile, the fruit vendor, along with the other bystanders, turned their attention to Lee.

The older man approached him, his voice softer now, filled with pity. "I'm sorry, boy," he said, his eyes filled with concern. "Life can be harsh, but let me offer you some advice: This job won't bring you happiness. Don't be afraid to leave it behind. It's better to eat garbage on the street than to endure such humiliation."

The old man looked Lee up and down, noting the strength in his posture, the quiet resilience in his eyes. "You don't look like a man who belongs in a job like this. You're stronger than this. Find a place where you'll be respected. If all the wealth in the world requires you to suffer this kind of abuse, then it's not worth it."

Lee listened in silence, his face unreadable. He didn't respond immediately, but the old man's words lingered in his mind, resonating with a truth he had long buried.

As the crowd dispersed, Lee glanced in the direction Zhan had gone, his thoughts heavy.

"It was a young man whose shop was on the side of the road. He brought out a new t-shirt and simple pants. He looked at Lee and said, 'Look at this. Go into my shop and change.' Lee stood up, looked at the young man, and said, 'Thank you very much.' The shop owner showed him where to go; all the people there looked at him with pity.

Even till now, he didn't say anything; he entered the shop.

He took out his phone from his pocket and swirled it around before putting it on the bench and changing his clothes.

The shopkeeper gave him a Leon; Lee wrapped his wet clothes in the Leon. He came out of the shop after saying thank you again, with the Leon in hand.

The owner of the shop kept looking at the phone that Lee had left on the bench with wonder. Then, he glanced at Lee, who started to walk away.

The shop owner raised his voice and said, 'You forgot your phone!' Lee returned quickly, took the phone, and put it in his pocket. He smiled and said thank you, then turned and went.

The owner of the shop kept looking at him... If his eyes weren't imagining things, then he saw the most expensive phone, worth hundreds of dollars, with that driver."

Without another word, he turned back to the car, his steps measured and deliberate. The fruit vendor watched him go, a sigh escaping his lips. "Poor boy," he muttered, shaking his head, "May he find the strength to leave such a place behind."

As Lee reached the car, he paused for a moment, looking down at the keys in his hand. The weight of them seemed heavier than before, the reality of his situation pressing down on him like a suffocating fog. With a deep breath, he unlocked the car and slipped into the driver's seat, the leather cool against his damp clothes.

Zhan would return soon, and they'd both continue this uneasy dance of power and pride. But for now, Lee allowed himself a moment of quiet, his thoughts lingering on the advice of the old man, and the possibility of a different path—a path where respect and dignity weren't things to be begged for, but freely given.

Mrs. Xiao stood at the entrance of the small market, her keen eyes narrowing as she noticed the unusual commotion. People were gathered, murmuring among themselves, and she instinctively knew something was wrong.

Her gaze quickly found Zhan, standing apart from the crowd with his arms crossed over his chest, a pout on his lips.

"Zhan, are you alright?" Mrs. Xiao asked, concern lacing her voice as she approached him. "What's going on here?"

Zhan didn't hesitate to hug himself tighter, his expression sulky as he complained, "Mama, that driver… he's so daring and has no shame."

Mrs. Xiao's eyebrows arched. "What did he do to you?"

"He Peng said he's nearby," Zhan began, his voice dripping with indignation. "So I told the driver to take me to him because I wanted to collect some textbooks. But that driver had the nerve to refuse! Can you believe it, Mama? He wouldn't go where I told him to!"

Mrs. Xiao's lips tightened, and she asked, "Is that all that happened?"

Zhan made a face, trying to look both innocent and aggrieved. "That's it. And I don't even know why all these people gathered like that."

Mrs. Xiao's eyes narrowed as she looked at the crowd, then back at Zhan. "Where is the driver now?"

Zhan motioned towards the car and muttered, "Mama, just let him go. I didn't bother with him."

Ignoring her son's words, Mrs. Xiao walked past Zhan and made her way towards the car where Lee was seated. Zhan followed reluctantly, a knot of anxiety forming in his stomach.

As Mrs. Xiao approached, Lee immediately got out of the car and bowed slightly. "Ma'am, did you need something?"

Mrs. Xiao's voice was calm but firm. "No, I want to know what happened between you and Zhan. Tell me your side."

The attention of the shop owners and bystanders shifted back to the unfolding scene.

Zhan, now visibly uncomfortable, hesitated but quickly interjected, "Mama, let me explain everything! I just asked him to take me to the bus stop to collect the textbook..."

But before Zhan could finish, the fruit vendor, who had witnessed the earlier incident, spoke up. "Madam, that's not what happened," he said, his voice steady. "I was sitting right there. Your son poured a bucket of water over the driver's head without any provocation."

Mrs. Xiao didn't wait for the vendor to finish. Her hand moved swiftly, and the sound of her slap echoed in the stunned silence of the market. Zhan staggered, his hand instinctively going to his stinging cheek, but before he could recover, another slap landed, this one harder, sending a shockwave through the onlookers.

The crowd gasped. It was unheard of for the child of a wealthy family to be publicly disciplined in such a way. Mrs. Xiao's face was a mask of cold anger as she turned to her son. "Apologize to him now, Zhan."

Zhan stood frozen, the sharp pain in his cheeks making his vision blur with unshed tears. He had never been struck before, let alone in public, and now the world seemed to tilt around him, small stars dancing before his eyes. He tried to cover his cheeks, his mind reeling, but the stern look in his mother's eyes shook him back to reality.

"I said, apologize!" Mrs. Xiao's voice was dangerously low, leaving no room for disobedience. "Before I add another slap, Zhan."

His legs felt weak as he forced himself to move, stepping slowly towards Lee. His eyes were filled with tears, and his voice trembled as he mumbled, "I'm… I'm sorry."

Lee, who had been standing quietly with his head slightly bowed, looked up at Mrs. Xiao and shook his head. "Ma'am, it's not that big of a deal…"

But Mrs. Xiao wouldn't hear of it. "It is a big deal, and I won't tolerate such behavior," she said firmly. "Zhan, order a taxi and go home. I won't have you follow me just to display your bad attitude. We'll deal with this properly when I get back."

Zhan's heart sank further at his mother's words, and he fumbled for his phone, dialing his father's number with trembling fingers. The moment the call connected, and he heard his father's voice, Zhan broke down. "Paa…!" he sobbed, his voice cracking with the weight of his emotions.

On the other end of the line, Mr. Xiao's voice was filled with concern. "What happened, Zhan? Why are you crying?"

But Zhan couldn't form the words. He just continued to sob loudly, unable to articulate his distress. Frustrated and worried, Mr. Xiao ended the call and immediately called his wife. "Where is Zhan?" he demanded the moment she answered.

Mrs. Xiao's tone was calm but firm. "He's with me. Don't worry about it."

"He called me just now, and he's crying...he wouldn't tell me what happened," Mr. Xiao said, his voice filled with anxiety.

"Don't worry," Mrs. Xiao repeated. "We're together. I'll handle it." And with that, she hung up, not willing to discuss the matter further.

Lee had parked the car in the driveway by the time they returned to the mansion. Mrs. Xiao thanked him once more, her voice softening slightly as she said, "I'm sorry again for Zhan's behavior earlier."

Lee managed a small smile and shook his head. "It's okay, ma'am. I didn't take it to heart."

Satisfied with his response, Mrs. Xiao walked into the mansion, leaving Lee alone. He watched her go, feeling a mix of emotions he couldn't quite name.

When the door closed behind her, he let out a deep breath, his body finally relaxing after the tension of the day.

With a weary sigh, he turned and headed towards his chalet, eager to take a proper shower and wash away the events of the day.

Meanwhile, Zhan stood outside the mansion, clutching his phone, his world feeling like it had just crumbled around him. He couldn't shake the sting of his mother's slaps, the humiliation of apologizing to Lee, or the disbelief in the eyes of those who had witnessed it all.

As he dialed his father's number again, he felt like a child lost in a world that was suddenly much larger and more unforgiving than he had ever imagined.