Deviant: No Longer Human

Wang Xiao, waved her closer, the corner of his mouth curling, "Come here."

Ruixin obeyed, her movements hesitant yet deliberate. And in front of Wang Jiarong, he leaned in and said, "Give me a kiss."

"!"

A blush crept up her neck, but she obliged, brushing her lips lightly against his. It wasn't just obedience—it was trust, almost worship. Jiarong let out an exaggerated groan, rolling her eyes so hard she nearly saw the back of her skull.

"What breed of obedience did you feed her, brother?" Jiarong asked dryly, her arms crossed as she observed the scene with a pointed glare.

Ruixin, her cheeks tinged with a light pink, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Though flustered, a flicker of satisfaction lingered in her expression. Meanwhile, Wang Xiao chuckled, his hand sliding to the small of Ruixin's back with casual ease, as if marking his territory without a word.

"Not everyone feels the need to rebel against me like you, Sister," he said with mock gravity, his tone carrying the faintest trace of amusement. "Some people know how to recognize value when they see it."

Jiarong's lips curved into a smile. "Value, is it? You mean the kind of 'value' that spends entire days lounging around, teasing women, and pretending to be useful? How impressive."

Ruixin glanced between the two siblings, unsure whether to laugh at their exchange or intervene.

Jiarong's gaze lingered on her brother, irritation flashing in her eyes. It wasn't just his smugness that annoyed her—it was how much he had changed. This wasn't the same Wang Xiao from seven years ago, the one who would follow her words without question. Now, he stood taller than her, exuding an effortless charm that seemed to bend others to his will. Worse, he no longer feared her authority, treating her remarks as little more than background noise.

The shift unsettled her. He was no longer a little brother who needed guidance—he was a man who had outgrown her control, and perhaps, that stung most of all.

"What are you up to now?" she asked, her voice calm but laced with suspicion as Wang Xiao approached.

"What?" he said lightly, raising an eyebrow. "She gave me a kiss, and now you're jealous? Relax, I'm just giving you a hug."

She blinked, caught off guard by his absurd reasoning. "You—"

Before she could finish, he pulled her into a sudden embrace. Her body tensed instinctively, her mind scrambling to process the unexpected gesture. Slowly, she relaxed, though the faint scent of jasmine surrounding her melted melted around him.

As she considered stepping away, Wang Xiao's hand darted to her side, delivering a quick, mischievous tickle.

"Xiao Wang!" she hissed, shoving him off with more force than necessary. Her tone was sharp, her cheeks faintly flushed.

"Soft," he mused with a sly grin. "Why can't I just sleep on this? And that jasmine scent... Was It—"

"Finish that sentence, and I'll make sure you regret it," she said coldly, though the slight crack in her composure betrayed her exasperation.

Standing a few feet away, Ruixin watched the exchange, her lips curving into a quiet smile. A thoughtful look crossed her face before she raised her phone, her fingers moving almost instinctively. The soft click of the shutter echoed through the room.

"???" Jiarong turned sharply, her expression caught between shock and embarrassment. "Rui!" she said, her voice low but firm. "Delete that."

Ruixin simply smiled, slipping her phone into her purse. "No chance."

Wang Xiao chuckled, "Don't worry, sister," he said, stepping back and gesturing nonchalantly. "One day, you'll thank her for capturing the moment. You were adorable, after all."

"..." Jiarong shot him a withering look, her tone cold as steel. "The only thing adorable here is your delusion.. And Ruixin, if you don't delete that picture—"

"It's just a keepsake," Ruixin said with an innocent shrug, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her playful intent. "What's the harm?"

Speechless, Jiarong sighed, "I regret bringing you both out with me. I should've left you two to torment each other at home."

Both Wang Xiao and Qian Ruixin looked at each other and smiling, somehow it became their mission today, to frustrate her.

Both Wang Xiao and Qian Ruixin exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. The faintest of smiles tugged at their lips—mischievous, conspiratorial. Somehow, it seemed as though they had made it their mission for the evening: to frustrate Wang Jiarong to her wit's end.

______

"For the Dragon Emperor of the Night!~~"

BOOM! BOOM!

The fire cannons roared like pissed-off thunder gods, flames licking the air as the dragon sculpture growled from its perch. The 'Dragon Gate Tower', squatting atop the 'Twin Phoenix Building', wasn't a nightclub—it was a shrine to sin, where wealth screamed louder than the music.

The VIP section? That was Mount Olympus of this neon jungle—slightly elevated, because of course it had to be higher than the plebs below. Black leather couches so soft they might as well have been skinned from baby unicorns surrounded glass tables stacked with golden bottles of champagne so expensive they probably cried real tears when opened. Velvet ropes marked this holy ground, guarded by human meat mountains whose job was to ensure the peasants stayed in their lane.

When the champagne arrived, it was a goddamn parade. Four waitresses strutted in like peacocks in heat, their crimson cheongsams slit so high they were practically in danger of turning into scarves.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Their heels clicked against the floor, each step screaming, "Look at me, you broke fools!" Faces like porcelain dolls, smoky eyes that whispered promises, and glossy red lips that could sell dreams—and probably did.

They didn't just deliver bottles; they presented them like golden idols of consumerism, the labels catching the light as if to say, "Worship your new god: shameless wealth!" And the crowd outside the velvet ropes? They craned their necks so hard you'd think they were trying to reincarnate as giraffes.

In the quietest corner of this debauchery, Wang Xiao reclined on a leather couch, exuding an effortless dominance that didn't need fire cannons or golden bottles. One arm draped lazily over the backrest, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a glimpse of a sculpted chest. His faint smile was infuriatingly confident, as if he'd already won a game no one else realized they were playing.

Beside him, Wang Jiarong oozed danger in her black gown—modest enough to feign class, tight enough to start fights. Her hair, black as midnight, framed a face both seductive and cold. To his other side, Qian Ruixin, dressed in lilac, radiated calm beauty, her serene movements a quiet rebellion against the club's vulgarity.

Across from them, Zhu Qing was all fire and flair. Her black mini-dress barely fit to her curves, and every flick of her hair was a calculated move to command attention. Her ruby lips curled into a mischievous grin as she leaned forward, pointing toward the VIP section.

"See that?" she said, nodding at the VIP table.

"What?" stammered, Tang Xinyi, another girl, seated beside her, she adjusted her round glasses, her shy demeanor amplified by her modest blue dress. Even here, in this temple of indulgence, she radiated an awkward charm that made her impossible to ignore.

Her round glasses and bangs made her look like a shy librarian who accidentally wandered into a rave.

"That bottle." Zhu Qing smirked. "Ace of Spades. Two hundred grand a pop."

"Two hundred thousand...? For a single bottle?" Wang Jiarong put her drink down as if it suddenly wasn't good enough for her.

Zhu Qing shrugged, her smirk growing wider. "It's not about drinking, babe. It's a giant middle finger to anyone who can't afford it. Like saying, 'Screw you, peasants! Look at all the money I can throw into a flaming pit!'"

Her gaze wandered back to the VIP section, on the men there. "Trust me, it's not about taste—it's a pissing contest, and these guys are spraying golden streams."

The group sat in stunned silence, the absurdity of it sinking in like a lead weight. Above them, the dragon sculpture belched another roar, as if mocking them all for taking this circus seriously.

Wang Xiao chuckled, a low, amused sound. "Two hundred thousand? That's chump change for some people."

Wang Jiarong shot him a look, her brows furrowed. "It's still ridiculous."

She couldn't wrap her head around it. How could anyone waste that much money on bubbles and bragging rights?

"That's the appeal." Wang Xiao swirled his drink lazily, the ice clinking. "People don't come here for value—they come to drown in excess. Makes the mundane feel like a bad dream."

Across the table, Tang Xinyi glanced at him. Or rather, her gaze on the open collar of his shirt, then trailed to his hands resting casually on his thigh. She thought she was subtle, but Wang Xiao caught her in the act.

Her eyes snapped away, but not before a traitorous blush crept up her neck. She fiddled with her glass like it held the secrets of the universe.

Leaning forward, Wang Xiao's smile widened, predatory. "What's wrong? Am I that terrifying?"