Chapter 2

The cold wind outside the bar sobered me up a bit.

I walked over to Jeremy's car, opened the door of the Porsche – which he bought on installments – and rummaged through the glove compartment on the passenger side for my lighter.

I didn't find the lighter, but I accidentally lit up his phone, which he'd carelessly left on the seat without locking the screen.

It showed a WhatsApp chat interface.

The contact's name was "Tiger (Debt collector, do not answer)".

Normally, I shouldn't pry into other people's business, but I caught a glimpse of my name on the screen, so I instinctively stopped and looked.

Jeremy's voice message to the other party had been transcribed into text, several paragraphs long.

Each word sent chills down my spine.

"Tiger, give me two weeks, I'll definitely get the money! I have this idiot college friend called Alan. He's a total henpecked husband who runs his own company. He has at least a few million in cash flow. His pretentious happy face just makes me sick."

"Don't worry, I have a plan. In a couple of days, I'll set up a gathering and show him how "real men" have fun. I'll have a few girls with cleaner backgrounds drag him into trouble, then take some photos. His high-and-mighty career-woman wife will surely dump him after seeing those photos!"

"Once they divorce, Alan will lose half his assets. When he's a mental wreck, I'll go comfort him as a good friend, then borrow money in his name to pay my debt. This guy will be my ATM machine!"

I felt cold all over.

Standing outside the car, clutching Jeremy's limited-edition phone, I felt as if all the blood had been instantly drained from my body. Then, a wave of pure dread rushed to my head.

For four years in college, I'd covered for Jeremy countless times in roll calls and bought him countless meals.

When I first started my business after graduation, he was kicked out by his landlord and practically lived at my place for half a year, and I never charged him a single cent.

I always thought that no matter how different our values were, we shared a bond of brotherhood after living in the same dorm for four years.

But it turned out that in his eyes, I was nothing more than a goose that laid golden eggs, a fat sheep ready to be slaughtered.

He not only couldn't stand to see me do well but also wanted to destroy the family I was so proud of. He wanted to ruin my reputation and use my hard-earned money to fill his bottomless debt pit.

I felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over me from head to toe, yet I felt calmer than ever.

I didn't take his phone. I put it back on the seat exactly as it was, and casually retrieved my lighter from deep within the glove compartment.

The moment I closed the car door, I saw my stern reflection in the window, and I knew I had already given this "brotherhood" a death sentence.

Back at the bar, Jeremy was groping a girl who was promoting drinks.

Seeing me return, he burped and slurred, "Yo, took you long enough to get a lighter. Did you sneak off to report to your wife?"

I suppressed the churning in my stomach and forced a perfunctory smile. "Yeah. You know I'm scared of my wife. Something suddenly came up and I have to go. Don't worry, I've paid the bill. You guys carry on drinking."

The moment I walked out, I knew the war had already started.

Three days later, Jeremy's "poisonous scheme" arrived as expected.

It was a Friday afternoon. He blared in a voice message in our WhatsApp group called "Brothers Who Slept With Me In College":

"Guys! It's my birthday, and I've booked a big VIP room at Night Palace! All of you have to come! Special note: no family members. It's a guys' night out. We want absolute freedom for men tonight! Alan, I'm talking about you. If you don't come, I'll go to your place with a megaphone and call you out from downstairs!"