Page 43 of Billionaire’s Ruin

She usually stayed at our house, unlike most of the other live-in staff who had their quarters in the back wing. Ayi’s room was right next door to mine—in case of emergencies, she always said. Though lately, I hadn’t needed her much. There was a time when she’d read to me every single night until I fell asleep, her voice soft like a lullaby, the faint scent of jasmine tea always clinging to her clothes. But as I got older, she stopped. Said I was too big for bedtime stories.

“So, does that mean…” Xiao Wu wiggled his eyebrows dramatically, his mouth curling into a mischievous grin as he wrinkled his nose like a rabbit.

I sighed. “No,” I said firmly, trying not to smile. “You must behave—even without her watching.”

He rolled his eyes, exaggerated way. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She never really liked Xiao Wu, and I never understood why. She thought he was a bad influence, that he’d fill my head with nonsense. But I liked him—he was the only person who treated me like a kid, not like the future heir of something I didn’t even want.

Sure, he had a bit of a reputation at school. They called him Little Bad Egg, always up to trouble, never sorry about it. But to me, he wasn’t bad. I knew that the day he punched that tall boy who called me a fatherless brat. The teachers were furious, of course. But I wasn’t.

Maybe that was why she wasn’t here today. Maybe she was angry that I’d chosen to spend time with him again.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the museum. A building of gray stone, towering columns, and polished floors that reflected the morning light like glass.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of aged paper and dust—the kind that settled deep into your nose and made you want to sneeze.

We were greeted by the museum’s director himself, a man in a black suit who dipped into a low, exaggerated greeting and smiled a little too wide. He personally gave us a private tour, his voice echoing slightly in the vast hallway as he showed us the “most valuable collections.”

There were old clothes sealed in glass boxes, cases painted with dragons, faded calligraphy scrolls so delicate they looked like they’d crumble if I breathed too hard. He said they were once used by important people in history—emperors, nobles, people whose names I’d already forgotten.

Apparently, without my family’s funding, the museum wouldn’t have been able to acquire such treasures. The way he said it made me uncomfortable, like I was supposed to feel proud. But all I felt was bored.

People stared at us sometimes—at me. Probably because it must have seemed strange: a gray-haired man bowing so deeply to a child. We weren’t living in the Qing dynasty anymore; there were no servants, no nu cai, not in modern China.

All I wanted was for the tour to end. Xiao Wu wanted the same thing—he made that clear by trying to step on my shoes every few minutes, giggling whenever I nearly tripped.

By the end, I thanked the director politely, just like Ayi had taught me to. Manners were important, especially when you didn’t mean them. “Always be gracious,” she used to say, “because words travel faster than truth.”

Except I couldn’t remember his name. I smiled and nodded anyway, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“What a waste of time,” Xiao Wu exhaled, loud and dramatic the second we slid back into the car. He leaned his head against the window, watching the city blur past.

He was right, of course, but I’d never say that aloud. My parents wanted me cultured, educated. That was why they hired her—British-born Chinese, Oxford something—I forgot. She wasn’t just any nanny; she was supposed to make me a gentleman, one who walked straight, spoke politely, and never forgot to thank the servants.

I glanced at Xiao Wu. Part of me wished I could be like him—loud, careless, unapologetically alive. He said what he wanted, did what he wanted, and didn’t care about consequences.

“It wasn’t,” I said softly, trying to sound optimistic like I always did when he complained.

He snorted. “Did you see how Mr. Xia kissed your ass?”

Ah, Mr. Xia. That was his name. I repeated it silently five times in my head so it would stick.

“How so?” I asked.

“He kept bending over like he was paying tribute. He might as well have kowtowed.”

“Did he?”

“Yes! So f⁠—”

“Ahem,” came the warning cough from the driver. He rarely spoke, but when he did, it felt like thunder.

Xiao Wu bit back a grin. “Anyway, dude, you know adults don’t do that, right?”

“They don’t greet like that?”

“Oh, they do. But only to elders, or like, someone really high-status…” He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as if studying me under a microscope. “Are you, like, super important?”