Lao Zi From An American School Was Raped By A Mixed-Race Daddy Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Eat Shit. He must get a sugar daddy tonight.

Josh tied his backpack to the bicycle seat and pushed the bike along the edge of the road.

The address sent by the girl named Jess was located in a bustling area of Boston, a private club not far from the prestigious MIT. This likely revealed the girl’s identity—a wealthy student entrepreneur.

Josh was all too familiar with this type of person. Back when he was still the young master of the Ruan family, he had his own days of glory. He had attended a top art academy in New York, right next to Boston. Upon enrollment, he held his own independent exhibition. His works were accepted by major exhibitions one after another, and countless people clamored to praise him.

Perhaps it was because the Ruan family was wealthy enough back then, or perhaps it was because his father’s ex-wife—the American woman rumored to have had her husband stolen by Josh’s mother—came from a prominent family.

Curiously, both that powerful American woman and her son and daughter had taken extraordinary care of Josh, the illegitimate son who shouldn’t have seen the light of day. One could even say they pampered him to excess.

Of course, all of this happened before his father died of illness. Since then, his mother had been detained by the domestic judicial authorities, and the young master’s funding was cut off. He lived worse than a dog hiding from the rain under a bridge. His soaring career collapsed overnight after several of his works were exposed as plagiarism. High society slammed its doors on him, former followers kicked him while he was down, and the young master…

Josh, after struggling to survive in a foreign land for six months, had become a completely homeless vagrant.

Sigh, heaven is truly jealous of genius.

Josh let out a sigh in the cold wind, feeling that his primary task as a genius was to fill his stomach with something. This wasn’t actually too difficult; there were many dollar stores on the edge of the city selling cheap, near-expired food full of sugar and calories, which Josh could afford.

He had the final payment for an essay ghostwriting job in his card, a few hundred dollars, but he didn’t touch it. He hadn’t touched most of the money he’d earned over the past six months, instead transferring it back to his mother’s account in China. That account was under the supervision of the judicial authorities; any fund movement would be immediately seized to repay his mother’s massive debts.

He transferred money every time he saved up five thousand dollars. All the luxury goods from his days as a young master, along with any works he could sell, had been converted into payments sent back home. Truth be told, he had done remarkably well; without the legal status to work, he had managed to transfer millions back to China within six months as an undocumented worker.

Unfortunately, that was a mere drop in the bucket compared to his mother’s debts. Josh had no more works or luxury items left to sell, leaving him with nothing but cheap labor and a brain exhausted from ghostwriting.

He still needed to find a sugar daddy. He thought calmly; this had nothing to do with dignity or dirty sex—it was simply about survival.

He hoped the bright-smiling Jess didn’t associate with too many awful men. With any luck, it would just be a programmer who got rich overnight by writing code. Those kinds of men were easy to fool and were the favorite type for gold diggers.

Of course, Josh had to learn to suppress his “young master” temper and refrain from mocking, provoking, insulting, or hitting anyone who behaved inappropriately toward him.

After walking for over two hours, Josh entered a shopping mall with the heating turned up high, finally regaining feeling in his hands and legs. He drank some water at the drinking station, put on a smile, and walked into a cosmetics store to greet the clerk.

Even without his former wealth, the young master still had a silver tongue. Before long, his fabricated story and witty expressions had the clerk happily giving him a “first date” makeover—not too heavy, just adding a bit of color to his bloodless face and a hydrated pink hue to his lips.

His features were naturally beautiful, with innocent and clear deer-like eyes. The clerk brushed his lashes and applied a thin layer of eyeliner.

My boyfriend doesn’t like flashy, over-the-top people. This is our first date, and I don’t want to mess it up.

He told the clerk, drawing a sympathetic barrage of curses from her. The kind girl wanted to stop him from seeing such a sexist scumbag with toxic masculinity, but he simply put on an act of being deeply in love:

But I really like him. I want to give him a chance. I’m sorry.

Under the clerk’s pitying yet understanding gaze, he left the mall with a conflicted expression. He hadn’t spent a penny and even had a sample of lip glaze the clerk had insisted on giving him. It’ll make your lips look glossy. Good luck, honey, the clerk had said.

Inside the mall, he reconfirmed the address Jess had sent, only to find her latest messages:

Hey, are you there? I’m so sorry for sending those messages. It was very disrespectful. I’m sorry, handsome.

You’re angry, right? (Crying Giant Panda.jpg) Tonight’s 8:00 PM event is a gathering for the company founders. It’s actually just a few of us friends because this is a company started by acquaintances, haha! It’s not a shady event, please don’t misunderstand. We didn’t mean to invite you in a way that was intentionally humiliating. If you don’t want to come, I understand. Please don’t take it to heart (Bowing Kitten.jpg).

But if… if you don’t mind, you’re welcome to join! There’s free-flowing champagne, we’ve hired two French chefs, and we flew in beef from Argentina on the company’s dime! Some friends brought dates—not that kind of date, but partners. Let me tell you a secret: the party also has five hundred thousand dollars prepared for people to play cards. You can take it as you please; our boss is very generous.

In any case, I’m sorry—and you really do look like Adonis. A real-life CGI face, so beautiful (no offense).

The messages ended there. The Chinese mixed with emojis caused Josh’s expression to soften involuntarily. His gaze lingered on the five hundred thousand dollars for a moment, unsure if it was a deliberately cast bait.

Once he bit the hook in desperation, it would be the moment of his total humiliation. That group of high-and-mighty people could then surround him like sharks for their amusement, tasting the bloody scent of shattered dignity.

Josh was very familiar with this routine. He had once been a wealthy young master himself, holding champagne and cigars. Personally, he didn’t enjoy the feeling of crushing others with thin stacks of bills, but he knew many people enjoyed that privilege.

Thank you, I’ll be there. 🙂

Knowing was one thing, but he didn’t care. He desperately needed a sugar daddy and the bed, heating, and feast that came with one. In his tight timeframe, Jess’s invitation was his best option—and almost his only one.

At the very least, even after being ordered to attend the gathering like a pretty doll, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the sunny and enthusiastic Jess.

*

Jess hadn’t lied; her boss and friend was excessively wealthy. Josh changed into the only suit he hadn’t managed to sell and walked into the club. He found that the entire club had been booked out. The usually crowded environment felt empty, with only the silent attendants standing straight in their formal suits.

A butler approached and bowed, asking if he needed help with valet parking. Josh imagined the comedic effect of having the man park his bicycle, but on the surface, he only smiled and shook his head with poise:

Thank you, but actually, I just remembered I have some urgent business. Could I go to a quiet room to make a phone call?

He asked, a diamond watch worth over nine hundred thousand dollars flashing on his wrist—it was the last luxury item he hadn’t had time to pawn, and it was currently serving its final purpose.

He was given an undisturbed lounge. After the attendant left, he sat on the long sofa and stared blankly for a while.

Jess messaged him asking where he was, but he didn’t reply. Low blood sugar made his hands shake uncontrollably.

He had forgotten to eat again.

In a while, a pair of strange hands would be wandering over his body. He couldn’t vomit, couldn’t tremble or go stiff, couldn’t throw a young master’s tantrum, and couldn’t smash a wine bottle over the other person’s head.

He had to keep smiling, chatting and laughing like a qualified gold digger who was used to this, playing both sides.

He was a product being put on the shelf, and he had better ensure he sold for the highest price.

A phone call came in. Josh answered instinctively, but the person on the other end wasn’t Jess. It was his half-sister, Jacqueline Ference:

Little Pumpkin, darling.

Jacqueline’s voice was sweet, full of affection and intimacy:

I’m flying back to New York from Paris tomorrow. Carol, Mother, and I will be spending Christmas in New York this year. We miss you very much. Mother asked if we should send a car to pick you up for the holidays?

Give my regards to Mother, sister.

Josh heard his own voice reply mechanically. The Mother he spoke of wasn’t his own mom, but his father’s original wife—the American woman rumored to have been betrayed by her husband and replaced by a mistress:

Don’t trouble Mother. I’ll be spending Christmas in Boston.

Little Pumpkin, Jacqueline’s voice was sickeningly sweet. Her tenderness was like a noose tightening around Josh’s neck, making it hard for him to breathe:

Your lease is up, isn’t it? You can’t even take care of yourself, so stop being a bad boy. Come back to the family’s embrace. What can the ice and snow of Boston give you? We’ll feed you, dress you up like a pretty doll, and teach you to do what you’re supposed to do. What’s so bad about that?

Josh took a deep breath and waited a moment before responding:

I’m not a child or a pet dog. I don’t need correction or feeding, sister.

Haha…

Jacqueline laughed. Her laughter completely tore away her gentle facade, revealing the shark-like cruelty beneath:

You’re a pretty doll who lacks discipline, just like your mother. You know, your independent declarations and rebellious spirit are starting to get boring and cliché. Come home before Christmas. I promise I’ll tell Carol not to be so rough with you—no electric shocks or waterboarding. You need to be re-educated, but you’ll be grateful to us afterward because we still treat you as family, Little Pumpkin. Father’s death didn’t change that.

The blood began to boil in Josh’s body. He stood up abruptly, his beautiful, lightly made-up face reflected in the antique mirror on the wall.

He had to get a sugar daddy tonight.

As many as it took.

Sister, he walked toward the door, his entire body filled with the strength to take on ten sugar daddies at once:

There’s something I’ve wanted to say to you for a long time: Jacqueline, eat shit. Oh, and pass the same message to Carol and Mother: eat shit.