The villa area wasn't actually that big. You could stretch a walk around it for a long time, but if you just wanted to reach the exit, it'd take about five minutes.
Since the whole zone was used for party villas, there weren't many cars around at this hour — most guests didn't actually stay overnight.
At the exit, there was only an old guy on guard duty, and he wasn't really working — just dozing with a TV on.
After all, this wasn't a real residential villa area; it was basically a commercial district with "villa" in the name, so they weren't going to install high-end facilities.
Zhao Xuan didn't bother the sleeping guard. He and Ye Peiqi ducked under the gate arm and out.
The guard booth was outside the gate, so as Zhao passed it, he overheard the TV — a local station's late-night news, one of the few channels you could get on analog.
Over the past month, three young women had gone missing in the city. The news kept looping their info.
Zhao glanced: two were students at Lianhai University of Political Science and Law, and one was a white-collar worker.
In a city of nearly six million, three disappearances in a month were low — and since it wasn't confirmed as criminal, people like Zhao, who didn't watch the news, were only hearing about it now.
Seeing Zhao stop by the booth, Ye Peiqi, who'd already walked ahead, came back and peeked at the screen.
"When I worked at a club in my first year of high school… selling pills… I often heard rumors about sisters disappearing. But most just went back home or skipped town."
Zhao didn't reply. He got her meaning — club girls often didn't leave ID info, so reporting a disappearance was pointless.
Families and friends were often elsewhere, so "missing" usually just meant they'd moved cities or clubs.
But these three were from good homes — they wouldn't just vanish. According to the news, it was likely an accident or a crime.
He shook his head. All that was still distant. In huge Lianhai, he was just a slightly unusual nobody.
Ye was about to pull out her phone to call a ride, but Zhao led her straight to the parking lot and his car, unlocking it with the key fob.
Ye stared at the black sedan. Outwardly calm, but inside she was reeling: three years as classmates, and she'd known Zhao's family situation. Otherwise, after Luo Changhao got control of her, she wouldn't have picked Zhao as the classmate to target and bully. When she saw his clothes earlier, she'd assumed they were high-quality fakes — but this Audi A8 was definitely real.
"What are you spacing out for? Get in." Zhao was already in the driver's seat, looking at her by the passenger door.
If Lin Jingjing liked money with limits, and Yan Qing was willing to do almost anything for it, Ye Peiqi — despite her perfect mask — was truly extremely materialistic underneath. Maybe on par with Bai Lvdi.
Zhao wanted to check her attribute panel to see if her favorability had changed, but it was locked.
[Usage count exhausted: 0/4]
Looks like the ability wasn't unlimited — he'd used it on Luo once, Ye three times; probably regenerated over time.
Zhao gave up for now. Ye opened the door and climbed in.
Without the panel, Zhao could still tell from her face and movements that her attitude toward him had shifted massively.
If she'd been a passive, obedient robot before, now she was at least a freshly brought-home pet — just needed to get used to the environment and more training.
Ye gave her address: Chuntian Fuyuan residential complex, not far, about 20 minutes if traffic was good.
Zhao was surprised the neighborhood was relatively upscale; he'd assumed she lived in an old, run-down place like his old place. But given the leverage Luo had on Ye's mom, it wasn't unexpected.
Midnight roads were perfect for a novice driver like Zhao. The two had been classmates for three years, but they weren't really close. Or rather, Zhao thought he knew Ye — but today he truly met her. Ye thought she could read Zhao, but today left her disoriented.
They were the most familiar strangers, the ride filled with awkward silence, only the FM news filling the air.
Zhao didn't like music while driving, so he kept it on the local news channel. He'd always liked news, and the anchor — Yu Liuying — had a nice voice. Tonight, it was her delivering the midnight update.
The content matched the TV news: asking for tips, urging women to stay alert.
"Master finds this interesting?" Ye asked.
Zhao had just set the dial automatically, not focusing on the story, but her question piqued his curiosity.
"Kinda." He didn't deny it, then asked, "When you went to Luo Changhao's before, did he take you home or did you go alone?"
"I lived at school then, he went home — a different direction." Ye was closer to a green tea type, but under Luo's or Zhao's blackmail, she didn't slip into calling herself a slave like the naturally submissive Lin Jingjing or the timid Yan Qing.
Seeming to realize that, Ye quickly lowered her head, clasped her hands, and apologized softly, "Sorry, Master… little bitch isn't used to it yet."
Zhao didn't really want to dive into total personality destruction right away — he had plenty of time to train her later.
"No punishment this time. Just be more aware." Maintaining master authority was important, especially right after claiming a new pet — true for dogs or bitches alike.
"Woof! Little bitch thanks Master for mercy," Ye immediately fawned. At this point, it wasn't just forced compliance — she didn't know the full situation with this familiar-yet-unfamiliar new Master, but he didn't seem worse than Luo.
Seeing that Zhao wasn't punishing her, Ye returned to the earlier topic. "Little bitch just remembered — back when I worked at the club, there were rumors about hostesses getting kidnapped and sold into underground prostitution or hardcore porn. But we always thought it was seniors scaring newcomers."
Zhao was curious. "What happened to those people if they never showed up again?"
"Most of us didn't even know each other's real names, so no news just meant no news. Lots of club girls had drug habits, so little bitch kept in touch longer. Most cleaned up and married, some switched clubs. Only a few really vanished."
"I'll call you Qipig from now on. Weren't you scared of something happening to you?" Zhao found it wild — Ye was 17 in her first year of high school, working a high-risk job like selling powder, yet she kept her virginity until today. Almost a miracle.
"At clubs, if you have money, there are dozens, even hundreds of women to play with. No one needed force — at most, drugging. Just be careful. Most victims of spiking or 'drunk pickup' were basically asking for it," Ye answered, shaking her head.
Her personality gave Zhao conflicting vibes — on one hand, she was clearly money-hungry with him and Luo, but her words also carried a trace of disdain for that world.
Just as he was thinking that, they arrived at Chuntian Fuyuan.
Security here was tighter than at Green Valley — even near midnight, two guards were on duty.
"Leaving so late, Leaf? Is this your boyfriend?" One guard, Uncle Song, seemed familiar with Ye. After checking her access card, he teased as he opened the gate.
"No, Uncle Song, he's a classmate. I stayed out late, and he drove me home 'cause I didn't feel safe," Ye denied.
Zhao parked downstairs from her place. Ye got out and tentatively invited, "Master, wanna come up to Qipig's place? Should be no one else here."
Zhao knew what she meant, but he'd just finished releasing tension. Looking at her tempting posture stirred him again, but starting a fire now would probably last till sunrise — he declined.
Ye didn't push, just bowed respectfully and hurried into the building.
Her place was on the 4th floor. No elevators in this low-rise complex. She unlocked the door, flipped on the lights, and sighed heavily. Throwing her bag on the sofa, she stripped naked.
Running her hands over her whip marks, she stared at her reflection, dazed. She didn't know her father — from what she remembered, it was just her and her mom.
Early on, Mom made good money selling alcohol, but Ye often heard insults about Mom being loose, sleeping with anyone.
As a kid, she didn't get it; later, she did, but she was sure Mom always came home, even if it was after midnight — not like the rumors.
In middle school, bullied as a "prostitute's daughter," she couldn't take it, fought with Mom, and transferred. The disruption cost her two years; by junior high, she was two years older than her classmates.
There, she learned Mom's reasoning: keeping a "slut" reputation made men think she was easy, so they'd spend. That's how they got the apartment. After Ye moved in for ninth grade, Mom quit selling alcohol — age made late nights hard, and men realized Mom wasn't easy, so she took ordinary jobs to scrape by.
Their relationship warmed until Ye's first year of high school.
Ye didn't inherit Mom's figure, but she did inherit Mom's talent for moving among men. In high school, she often worked weekends at clubs selling drinks. Years of dance gave her grace and a pure look that made men throw money.
She still turned down guys offering tens of thousands for her first time, yet still earned thousands each weekend.
Mom cursed her for being shameless; Ye fired back with the same words. After a day-long fight, Mom made her board at school for stricter management.
But leaving campus on weekends was easy for her.
"Maybe I should've just sold it back then…" Ye muttered, recalling the past two years.