Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Dianxia.” 

The man in front of him stopped walking abruptly. He had been on his guard since the boy spotted him, hurriedly walking along the dirty walls of the neighborhood, steering clear of the buzzing light of the lampposts.

The boy hadn’t meant to follow him, not really. He had just been surprised. He hadn’t thought he would see him here, out of all places. He’d even thought he had finally lost it, that he was hallucinating him. But how could he hallucinate him looking like that?

With a grey sweater that must had been white at some point, a worn jacket full of dirty stains and holes, and his hood pulled over his head to conceal his face, a few dirty strands of hair sticking out.

He hadn’t known what to say. It had been so long. It had been so unexpected. He had been wholly unprepared.

But he knew that he couldn’t let him slip away, so he just… walked after him.

Maybe not the best decision since the man immediately tensed up when he noticed he was being trailed.

After ten minutes of walking in silence, internally panicking – Why are you so creepy? Just say something! Oh my god – the man slowed down.

Sensing that he was about to confront him, the boy spoke up first.

“Dianxia,” he called in the most unthreatening voice he could muster – not that he would ever dream of threatening Xie Lian his god. Idiot! Why the fuck wouId you call him that?!

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was certainly not for the man to freeze in shock for a second before swiftly turning around and pulling out a gun.

...

Fuck.

He had barely paid attention to his surroundings, his eyes and mind fixated only on Xie Lian… who had dragged him further away from the busy streets, leading him into a deserted alley before pulling out a gun and pointing it at his head.

Stupid. This was not how he had imagined this going.

Still, now that he could finally see the other's face properly, all the boy could think was “Beautiful.”

The man stared at him with cold golden eyes, a dark expression on his face.

Between the boy’s face mask and his bangs, the only thing the man could see of his face were his eyes. Black as obsidian, and full of awe, which only seemed to anger the man even more, his grip on the trigger tightening.

The boy’s hair was messy, pulled into a crooked ponytail. He was thin, too thin, his leanness only accentuated by his towering height. But despite being slightly taller than the man, he looked young.

“What. Do. You. Want?” the man spat, accentuating every word.

The boy blinked slowly, coming round, as if he was only realizing now the gravity of the situation. Still, he weirdly didn’t look scared by the gun.

“N-nothing,” the boy stuttered.

“You have been following me for the past fifteen minutes. Don’t lie to me.”

The boy could see that Xie Lian was losing his patience very, very fast.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit. What did he say?

“I… got kicked out. I didn’t know where to go and I saw you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to follow.”

It… wasn’t exactly a lie. He had been kicked out. A while ago.

The man in white didn’t say anything and simply kept staring at him.

The boy faltered under his icy gaze. “I can leave. Or you can shoot me,” he said very seriously. It wasn’t like he ever cared much for his life. “But…” he hesitated. “Are… are you okay?”

It was clearly the wrong thing to say.

Xie Lian’s eyes started to burn with anger. Walking closer, he demanded “Mask off.”

“I-” The last thing the boy wanted to do right now was show his face. But what could he do? Refuse? He wouldn’t dream of it under normal circumstances – and with the addition of a gun? Ah, it’s not like it would matter anyway. He had already blown everything up.

“Now!”

He carefully removed his face mask, shoving it in his hoodie’s front pocket, keeping his head down. He didn’t want to see Xie Lian’s reaction.

There was a painful silence for a few seconds before Xie Lian asked in an unreadable voice “How old even are you?”

“Twenty, Dianxia.” For fuck’s sake, stop with the Dianxia's!

“Do not call me that,” the man snapped.

“I-I’m sorry.”

After another awkward pause, Xie Lian sighed and put his gun away.

At the sound, the boy tentatively looked up. Xie Lian was still sizing him up.

He winced internally. He certainly wasn’t looking his best – not that his best was any good. His clothes were in the same dirty state as Xie Lian's, if not worse. And with his sunken cheeks and tangled hair he was sure that he must have looked particularly pathetic to him.

“What’s your name?”

The boy didn't have any legal existence. His father never bothered declaring him, and his mother was too sick to even leave the house back when she was still alive.

He didn't even have a name – only a somewhat cruel childhood nickname, reminding him too much of the part of himself he hated the most. He was always using a different name, never finding one suiting him. The only one that stuck, that he sometimes called himself in the confines of his own head, was San Lang, but he wasn’t about to tell that to Xie Lian.

“I don't have a name,” he decided to answer truthfully, not wanting to lie to him. 

“Being without a name makes you Wu Ming.” He said it with a mocking tone, but if it was the name Xie Lian wanted to give him, Wu Ming would gladly accept it.

Seeing that he didn’t respond, Xie Lian started walking away. Wu Ming didn’t know what to do, torn between leaving him alone as he clearly wanted, and following him to never lose sight of him again.

Just as Xie Lian was about to exit the alley, he addressed him without turning around. “Come if you want.”

Wu Ming’s head snapped up, and before he could lose sight of him, he scuttled to the man’s side with a smile.

Xie Lian was walking up the stairs of a dilapidated building two at a time, Wu Ming following him while carefully inspecting his surroundings.

The street was dirty, littered with trash, cans, cigarette butts and a few suspicious looking syringes. There was no denying that this neighborhood was shitty.

Thankfully no one was around, so they got to Xie Lian’s apartment without trouble.

Wu Ming frowned when he saw Xie Lian simply push the door open.

Does he never lock his door? In this neighborhood?

That certainly sounded… dangerous.

When he walked in after the man, the first thing Wu Ming noticed was that the keys were on a table missing a leg next to the entrance, on top of a pile of unread letters.

He doesn’t even take his keys with him?

Then he took a look at the apartment.

Well, apartment seemed like too nice a word to describe it.

The door opened directly to one small central room that appeared to serve as both a living room and a kitchen. There wasn’t much in it, but everything looked old and dusty. The walls looked suspiciously moldy too, and there was a nasty smell around. The only window in the room was condemned.

The room couldn’t be bigger than 10 m², with a lopsided beat-up couch on one side, and a small table next to a sink with a few cupboards and a stove that looked as if it would explode at any moment, on the other.

From where he was, he could see two other doors, guessing that they must lead to a bathroom and a bedroom.

The whole thing was littered with papers and notes of all sorts, but Wu Ming didn’t have the time to figure out what they were about before Xie Lian hurriedly started gathering them in his arms.

As he did, a paper full of handwritten notes fell under the couch without him noticing.

Wu Ming hesitated for a second. He didn’t want to be noisy. He really didn’t wish to break Xie Lian’s trust, but he wanted to understand what was going on with the man so he could help him with whatever it was.

Therefore, he decided to pretend he hadn’t seen the notes fall and read the paper later when Xie Lian would leave.

The man in question finished gathering the rest of the papers and dropped them all in the room on the right, which, from what Wu Ming glimpsed, was indeed a bedroom.

Surprisingly, Xie Lian locked that door when he came out before glaring at Wu Ming suspiciously.

“You can stay for tonight only, but you better stay out of the way,” Xie Lian threatened. “You can use the couch.” He pointed at the thing that looked even more dirty without the papers covering it.

It sure as hell didn’t look comfortable, but that was still an amelioration compared to the floor of the abandoned building he had slept on the previous nights. And anyway, if he could be with Xie Lian, he didn’t care how uncomfortable he would be. None of it mattered in sight of the man.

“The bathroom’s there,” Xie Lian kept taking, pointing to the door on the left. “You can use it, if there’s even water. But do not touch anything in the apartment,” he concluded with a harsh tone before turning around and locking himself in his bedroom.

When he was a kid, Wu Ming had already been struggling in life. He had been told that he wasn’t a lovable kid. Too angry, too aggressive, too unruly. Rowdy. Always picking up fights. No one had really cared about why he was that way.

The only person who had shown him love was his mother, but she was rarely awake long enough to hold full conversations with him these days, let alone take care of him.

He didn’t know what was wrong with her, just that she was sick. His father said that they didn’t have enough money to get her to see a doctor, and she said that she was fine, she didn’t need one.

He knew that wasn’t true. Of course it wasn’t. She had been sick since he was born, never leaving the house, and now he was ten. It was a long time! And she had only gotten worse with time.

He walked carefully into his mother’s room, balancing a chipped bowl and a glass in his hands, focused on not spilling the water from either of them.

He opened and closed the door slowly to not make it squeak. He had long learned to never make noises and live as a shadow in this house.

Wu Ming placed the bowl and the glass on the slightly rotten wooden bedside table and wet a cloth taken out of his pocket. He tried to clean the sweat of her face as much as he could, but what she really needed was a bath. Sadly, that was not something ten years old Wu Ming could help with, and his father couldn’t care less about his wife’s state of health.

“Mama,” the child called, “wake up. You need to drink water.”

But the covered figure remained motionless on the bed.

“Mama.”

The boy climbed on the bed to shake her a little more, grabbing her shoulders. Worried by the lack of response, he moved to clumsily check her pulse. It was slow. Too slow. But that in itself wasn’t unordinary these days.

“Mama,” he repeated louder.

Finally, the woman started to stir. “Hong-er…”

His mother was the only one who ever called him by anything else than brat, dirty brat, little shit, demon, trash, … It was the only name he ever knew. But Hong-er couldn’t help but hate this name. It reminded him of the one thing he hated the most in the world, even if his mother kept telling him that he shouldn’t hate it at all.

“I brought you some water.” He carefully helped her sit up before handing her the glass of water.

“Ah, you’re such a good child, Hong-er,” she said with a gentle smile. “But don’t worry about me, I’m just a little tired, that’s all. You should go play outside instead of taking care of me.”

She spoke slowly, in hushed tones, as if even using her voice demanded too much energy.

He missed hearing his mother sing songs to him in her language.

He looked at her drink before insisting, “You should eat something too, now that you’re awake.”

“Ah, Hong-er, there’s no need–”

But he didn’t listen to her, already making his way to the kitchen.

Going to the kitchen required more stealth than going to his mother’s bedroom. His father was in the next room, watching TV in their small living room, and Hong-er had to pass through the room to get to the kitchen.

Thankfully, his father was too absorbed by the TV – or too drunk – to notice Hong-er tiptoeing behind the couch, avoiding all creaky floorboards.

Once he finally reached the kitchen, he silently closed the door before letting out a sigh.

He winced when the cupboards squeaked, but after a few seconds without hearing any movement from his father, Hong-er kept going with his search for food.

In the end, the only things he found were alcohol, some old rice and an expired pack of instant noodles. He couldn’t remember the last time his father went to buy groceries other than cheap alcohol.

Ideally, the best thing for his mom would be to cook congee, but it was too long, and even if he made a simple bowl of rice, his father would hear the boiling water.

So, Hong-er decided that the best option was to go get some ready-to-eat food from a stall on a bigger street a few minutes from home.

He exited the house through the kitchen window to avoid having to go through the living room again. He didn’t want to try his luck again with his father.

Once he put his feet outside, the kid immediately ran away from the house, putting as much distance as possible between him and his father. It was extremely unlikely that the man would suddenly notice his absence, but still, Hong-er never wanted to linger in or around the house if he could help it.

He slowed down when he arrived at the intended street. It was around noon, so the avenue – filled with numerous different restaurants and food stands – was bustling with people. Hong-er smiled inwardly, it would work in his favor.

The only downside was that it was the beginning of winter and Hong-er was shivering from the cold. His clothes were nowhere near as warm as they should be and the soles of his shoes were thin and coming off, not offering much protection against the freezing sidewalk. He was used to it, but his body still quivered.

Hong-er weaved between the passersby, making his way through the street. He knew that there was an open food stall run by an old lady nearby. It was as good a target as it would get, he guessed.

Nobody paid attention to him as he went.

It was always like that: people either found him annoying or didn’t notice him at all.

As he finally caught sight of the stall, he stopped and discreetly looked around. There were a few people queuing up, waiting their turn to buy a few bao, but none of them seemed to pay attention to their surroundings, either on their phones or talking to their friends. And the woman owning the stand was busy with her cooking.

Perfect.

He calmly strolled toward the stand, his eyes set on a box of bao the old lady had just put on the counter, getting ready to dash after he grabbed it.

His small size helped him get closer without being noticed.

His reached for the box with his left hand and was about to break into a run when–

TAP!

He tried to withdraw his hand, but the woman blocked it with a spatula, her grip unrelenting.

Shit.

No no no no no–

Hong-er quickly regained his bearings and freed his hand in one swift forceful movement.

“What do you think you’re doing, you disgusting thief?” the woman yelled, grabbing his arm in a bruising grip.

Whispers erupted all around them.

Hong-er looked for a way out but the crowd had closed on them, completely blocking any escape route, encaging him with the woman.

“I know you!” she exclaimed. “You think you can just come and go? Take what you want?”

Seeing him still trying to run away, she lifted him up off the floor, letting him hang a meter from the ground, kicking the air around him.

“I’m not letting you go this time! Where are your parents? I’ll tell them what you did!”

“NO!” Hong-er finally spoke and redoubled his efforts to free himself, terror rising in him.

She couldn’t tell his father. She couldn’t!

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll drag you to the police station!” she threatened. “Is that what you want?! You wanna go to jail?!” she tried to scare him.

“No! No! Leave me alone!” He kicked her in the shin, making her drop him on the floor.

As soon as his body touched the floor, he got up and readied himself to run, but there was nowhere to go. The crowd was closing in on him.

“You little brat! I’ll–”

“What’s going on?” a soft voice interrupted. 

A teenager had just come out of the crowd.

He calmly strolled towards them. He looked no older than 15 but he was very posed, unlike most teens Hong-er knew. He was smiling but his amber eyes were serious. And he was… well, very pretty. His short hair was a bit unkept, with wild strands framing his pale, delicate, unblemished face.

His winter clothes looked fancy too. Hong-er didn’t know much about it, but it was certainly expensive.

Overall, he looked like a typical carefree youth, born in wealth and who would die in wealth with a perfect life. He was uncannily beautiful, sure, but he was also the embodiment of everything Hong-er hated.

The teenager frowned, looking between the woman and Hong-er. “Why are you going after a child?”

“The kid’s a thief!” she explained, taking advantage of Hong-er’s distraction to grab him by the collar of his sweater.

“Ah I see,” the stranger nodded.

Hong-er let out a growl. He knew it was too much to hope that someone would help him but if the stranger could keep talking to the old woman, then maybe he could use the redirection of her attention to–

“But I’ll still ask you to let him go.”

What?

Hong-er stopped moving for a moment to look at the stranger. He had come closer to them and was staring at the woman expectantly.

The stall owner bristled. “You! This is none of your business! This is between me, him and his parents!”

Hong-er started struggling once more at the mention of his parents.

“But, ah, I’m his brother, you see,” the stranger calmly stated.

That was quite unbelievable, Hong-er thought. Not only did they look nothing alike, but it was also clear as day that they came from different backgrounds.

But more importantly, what was he doing?

“I’m sorry that he caused you trouble. What did he take? I’ll pay for it.” He started looking for his wallet in his coat.

The old woman eyed him with disdain. She obviously didn’t buy it, but she was still considering her options. In the end, she decided that having someone pay for the buns without involving the police wasn’t that bad.

“Are you gonna pay me back for everything he stole before too?” she spat angrily at him.

“Of course.” He smiled placatingly.

She hmphed. “Alright, then. The brat owes me 800 yuan.” She dropped him on the ground unceremoniously.

“That’s not true!” Hong-er protested while getting up.

He was about to go kick her again when the teen grabbed his shoulder, careful not to hurt him but still with force, stopping him.

“Alright.” The teenager handed her a bundle of bills.

The woman looked surprised for a moment, not having expected that a teen would have 800 yuans on him, but quickly grabbed it and stashed it in a safe in her stall.

“Fine,” the woman grumped, as if she hadn’t just scammed her way to get 800 yuans. “Now go. If I ever see him again, I’ll call the police immediately.”

“Wait,” the teen stopped her, “I gave you an extra 60, so I’ll take your 10 box.”

The woman looked at him, smiling while holding by one hand an enraged looking kid, before deciding that it wasn’t worth the fight.

She gave him the buns before shooing the both of them away.

The two boys walked in silence for some time, getting away from the crowd. The stranger had started holding Hong-er’s hand at some point to not lose him in the sea of people. His hold was loose so Hong-er could have run away at any point but… well, it’s not like he had anywhere to go now that he failed his objective.

After a while, they stopped at some fancy park where Hong-er had never been before. The stranger sat them down on a bench.

“It’s calmer here, right?” he said, smiling kindly at Hong-er.

The kid just stared at him, not knowing what to answer, but the teen didn’t seem deterred by the lack of answer.

“I’m Xie Lian but you can call me gege now I guess,” he laughed. “What’s your name?”

“… Hong-er,” the kid let out after a few seconds. He wasn’t sure how to act with Xie Lian, what to make of him.

“Nice to meet you Hong-er.”

The kid nodded, his eyes wide open.

Xie Lian, while still smiling kindly, looked him over with worry in his gaze. He looked like he wanted to ask something but changed his mind at the last minute.

“Here.” He handed him the box of bao instead. “You wanted them, right?”

Hong-er carefully took it and cradled it to his chest.

Xie Lian looked at him curiously, noticing that he didn’t open the box to start eating like he expected him to.

After some time, Hong-er hesitantly asked, “Why would you let her scam you? I really didn’t take that much…”

But, ah, never mind, of course the teen wouldn’t believe him. Afterall, he was just a filthy thief in his eyes. A charity case at best.

“I know,” Xie Lian answered, seemingly unaware of Hong-er’s inner turmoil. “But it’s fine, it’s not a problem, I’m sure she needed that money more than me. And I really like her bao anyway. Well, maybe less now that I know her.” He pulled a face.

“But more seriously,” he continued, “are you alright? She didn’t hurt you?” he asked, staring at the dirty bandages covering his right eye.

Instinctively, Hong-er covered his eye with his hand, even though he knew that Xie Lian couldn’t see it.

“I’m fine,” he answered more aggressively than he wanted, cringing at his harsh tone against the boy that helped him. “…Sorry,” he whispered, looking away.

Xie Lian decided to drop it and asked a simpler question to try to ease the tension.

“How old are you?”

“… Ten.”

“Oh, you’re only 5 years younger than me!”

Truth be told, Hong-er was as surprised as him. He knew that he looked younger than 10, but he also thought that Xie Lian was older than 15. He certainly didn’t act 15.

For the next 30 minutes, Xie Lian kept making light conversation, never dropping his smile, asking him innocuous questions about himself and appearing really interested in the kid’s answers; and Hong-er felt himself relax and bask in the older boy’s presence.

Doesn’t he have somewhere to be? Hong-er wondered. But ultimately, he didn’t care. He didn’t want to think about the world outside of the bench they were sitting on.

But sadly, there is no banquet that doesn't come to an end, and their bubble was broken by a ringtone.

Xie Lian winced immediately and took his phone out of his pocket. With an apologetic smile to Hong-er, he answered.

“XIE LIAN WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” someone yelled so loud that the teen had to move the phone away from his ear.

“Ah, Feng Xin, sorry,” he answered in a much calmer voice. “I got caught up at the bao stand.”

“Caught up? Xie Lian, we texted you. You didn’t answer. You’re going to be late to practice!”

“Oh right,” Xie Lian looked at Hong-er thoughtfully. “Sorry, I’m coming. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“You–” Feng Xin wanted to argue but Xie Lian hung up on him.

“Ah. I’m sorry but I have to go,” he told Hong-er. He hesitated for a moment before adding, “Do you want to come with me?”

“…No, I have to go home too,” Hong-er answered regretfully. He really wished he didn’t, but he couldn’t leave his mother like this.

Xie Lian frowned. He didn’t like that answer one bit.

“Is it okay for you to go home? Will you be fine there?”

“… It’s nothing I’m not used to,” Hong-er said shamefully, looking away.

But Xie Lian insisted. “Do you have anyone to take care of you?”

Hong-er knew how he looked. Bruised and malnourished, with dirty clothes and overgrown hair. And that was without even mentioning the old bandages wrapped around his eye.

He knew everyone could see what was going on, but nobody cared. Nobody but his mom. And Xie Lian apparently.

Sometimes he wished his mom was dead. Life would be easier. He loved his mom deeply. She was the only person he loved really, but she was hurting. And not only physically. He knew she suffered from being a burden to her son.

If she died, then he would have no one left in this world. Then it would be okay for him to leave too. Whether that house or the world, he wasn’t sure. It didn’t really matter.

He wanted to say all of this to Xie Lian. He wanted it so much it ached. But he knew he had to go back, and he also didn’t want to burden the older boy. So, he lied between his teeth.

“Yeah.”

He could see on Xie Lian’s face that he didn’t believe him, but his phone started ringing again and Hong-er got up. Even if he didn’t like it, he didn’t have much choice but to give up.

“Alright.” He sighed. “Well, I hope I’ll see you around, then.”

It was only after he left that Hong-er realized that the teen hadn’t eaten the lunch he originally came to buy.

Now the man was beside him again.

Wu Ming stared at the door that had just closed for a moment before deciding to make a quick tour of the room he was in, trying to think of what he could do to make himself useful.

He was not sure when Xie Lian would come out, so he decided to start by checking the door. Better be caught inspecting the lock than reading papers Xie Lian clearly didn’t want him to read.

As he approached the door, he noticed two things. First, there was indeed a lock, but it was broken. Second, a replacement latch was poorly screwed into the wood of the door. Problem: it was only useful if you were inside the apartment, and even then, it would be awfully easy to open from the outside.

What the fuck?

He knew Xie Lian wouldn’t be careless, so when Wu Ming initially saw that the man didn’t lock his door, he wanted to believe he had a good reason. But he didn’t expect the reason to be that he literally couldn’t!

Seriously, the flat was just uninhabitable.

He turned his head to look at the table next to the door.

But if Xie Lian had the keys, then that must mean that he either owned or rented the place.

What kind of trash would dare sell, or worse, rent such a slum?

He knew what kind of people. And if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t even that bad of a place by his own standards. He’d seen much worse for the past five years of his life.

But this was not about him. This was about Xie Lian. He shouldn’t have to live like this. Ever.

And to not even be able to lock his door? Might as well live in the street.

Sure, he knew how to fight and now apparently owned a gun, but still. Anyone could get in when he wasn’t there and take what they wanted or stay there until he got home. Or even come in when he was here. They wouldn’t even need to make much noise to force the door. If he was asleep, he wouldn’t even notice that they got in –

He shuddered internally at the thought. No. Xie Lian was fine. He had been fine until now. He certainly knew how to deal with the situation.

But still, it was not safe, and he had to do something about it.

As he was staring at the keys, his eyes mechanically read what was written on the top letter sitting under them.

It was a bill. A bill for an unpaid rent from a few months ago.

So Xie Lian was renting this place.

He frowned. Wu Ming grabbed the letter and read it more carefully. And then the next one. And the next one. And the next.

The whole pile was just unpaid bills. For the rent, for water, for electricity, for gaz. The total was about 15,000 yuan.

Well, that explained what Xie Lian meant when he said “if there’s even water”.

He quickly checked that there indeed wasn’t any water by testing the sink.

He frowned. That and the awful state of the exposed pipes.

He sighed. At least he already found two things that he could do to help: fix the door and find 15,000 yuan to pay the bills, and fast. One of the letters was from the landlord saying that he would come…– Wu Ming checked – two days from now for the rent. And if Xie Lian still didn’t have it, he would evict him.

Which was bad.

The place may suck, but it was better than nothing for now.

Wu Ming didn’t know what Xie Lian’s plans were, but considering the state of things, he doubted the man could find 15,000 yuan in two days.

As he kept looking around, Wu Ming continued his mental list. Repair the sink. Clean. Patch up the holes in the condemned window. Find food.

The fridge was utterly empty, which made sense, considering that the electricity came and went. But there wasn’t anything in the cupboards either.

The only thing in the fridge was a few blocks of frozen… He wasn’t sure what it was actually, but it didn’t look like food and it was slowly melting anyway. He decided that he didn’t want to know and closed the freezer.

Maybe Xie Lian kept everything in his room since he could lock it?

But he couldn’t exactly go ask him.

Wu Ming didn’t know what he was doing, but there wasn’t any noise coming from behind the closed door.

That’s when he remembered the paper that had fallen under the couch.

He went to pick it up. But instead of helping him understand what was going on with Xie Lian, it only confused him even more.

It was intel about the White Calamity.

Why on earth would Xie Lian take notes about the head of the Wuyong syndicate?

Did he have ties with it?

But… why?

He carefully put the paper back in the exact same spot that it was before.

He would have to figure that out later.

For now, the most important thing was to get some food. It was almost time for dinner. He would check the bathroom and continue his investigation later.

Staring at the door to Xie Lian’s bedroom, Wu Ming hesitated to leave. But Xie Lian didn’t seem to plan on getting out of his room anytime soon.

Should he tell him that he was going to find something to eat?

No. The man said to not disturb him. With a bit of luck, Xie Lian would still be in his room when he’ll come back.

Ha. A bit of luck.

In the end, Wu Ming chose to leave the apartment.

He aimed for a store not too far because he didn’t want to leave for too long, but not too close to not risk running into anyone he or Xie Lian knew.

As he walked up the street, he wondered what Xie Lian did of his days. Did he even work at all? And what was going on with the papers?

Wu Ming partially knew what had happened to Xie Lian since they were kids, but as far as he was aware off, it didn’t have anything to do with the Wuyong syndicate. And how did he get a gun?

And Xie Lian… he had changed. But also not? Not that it would matter anyway.

He seemed to be hateful towards everyone and extremely defensive – which he had every right to be – but he also gave a stranger a place to stay without asking anything in return.

As he stopped in front of a convenience store, he wondered if Xie Lian would disapprove of him stealing. Probably not anymore. But, well, even if he did, Wu Ming didn’t have much choice at the moment. He’ll just get a job later. Somehow.

Right. Cause it was possible for him to get an honest job. Without an ID…

Anyway.

He walked in and grabbed a cart, nodding to the cashier. The poor girl looked exhausted, and it was not even that late. Still, the store was empty save for a woman in a fancy dress and pretty make-up. Probably coming back from a date. But who goes shopping after a date?

Wu Ming took as many groceries as he could get away with. He wasn’t sure how long he would be able to stay with Xie Lian before the man kicked him out, but if it wasn’t a long time, he would need to get him as much food as he could now.

The woman left while he was trying to figure out which meals he could make with only items that weren’t stored in a fridge. Damn, he’ll have to check if there wasn’t anything wrong with the flat’s electricity wires.

Walking out with the food wasn’t too difficult. Distract the cashier by asking her to check inventory – and it’s not like the girl was paying much attention to him to begin with – grab money from the register while angling his body to hide his arm from the cameras, wait for the cashier to come back, pay, keep the change.

The convenience store’s security clearly sucked but Wu Ming was good at stealing anyway – a much better thief than when he was 10. Had a lot of practice.

When Wu Ming came back, Xie Lian was in the living room, staring into nothingness.

Upon hearing the door open, he pulled his gun out and aimed it at Wu Ming.

Neither of them moved for a moment before Xie Lian lowered his gun.

“You’re back.”

His tone was harsh, but Wu Ming could hear a bit of surprise in it.

He raised his grocery bag. “I went to get some food.”

Xie Lian stared at him but didn’t say anything, giving no indication that he was either pleased or displeased.

Being met with only silence, Wu Ming decided to carry on with what he was intending to do.

He brought his bag to the kitchen side of the room and unloaded it. He then grabbed a camping stove that he had seen in one of the cupboards before leaving and started working on trying to cook something.

He wouldn’t call himself a good cook, but he had learned to make somewhat tasty meals with limited, shitty ingredients growing up.

All the while, Xie Lian didn’t say anything and just stared at him. Not wanting to annoy him, Wu Ming kept silent too.

When he was done, Wu Ming grabbed two plates. How Xie Lian had clean plates and cutlery, Wu Ming didn’t know. Either he had a way to wash his plates without running water, or he hadn’t used them recently.

He split the food in two, giving a bigger portion to Xie Lian. He was worried about the man. He was too thin. He himself was used to being hungry, but Xie Lian shouldn’t have to.

Xie Lian raised a brow at the distribution of the food but didn’t say anything.

Dinner was… awkward, to say the least. Xie Lian kept staring at him with an unreadable expression and Wu Ming kept his eyes glued to his plate, not feeling bold enough to cross his gaze.

When the man finished eating, he dropped his plate in the sink and went back to his room without a word, locking himself in.

Wu Ming looked at the door and let out a small sigh. He followed Xie Lian’s lead to put his plate in the sink and tried to figure out what to do with them.

In the end, he decided to let it like that for now. He’ll take care of it tomorrow.

He walked to the couch and fell heavily on it. He was exhausted. He was more or less constantly tired these days, but today had been taxing.

He hadn’t expected his evening to go like this, but internally Hong-er was rejoicing to see his dianxia again.

Chapter Text

Wu Ming woke up early. He was used to sleeping poorly and only a few hours at a time.

He could have gone back to sleep like his body was begging him to, but he had things to do. He didn’t want to wait before fixing the door.

He got up with a grunt. The couch definitely wasn’t comfortable.

He quickly checked the door to his right. Xie Lian wasn’t making any noise. Probably still sleeping. Good. That meant that Wu Ming could bring him breakfast when he woke up.

He tied his boots and pulled his sweater over his head before silently leaving the apartment. He would need materials to work with.

He walked with the light of dawn, basking in the early morning peace of the city.

A few blocks away were the ruins of a building that had recently been destroyed. It was too early for any workman to be here yet, so he should be clear to search for what he needed.

It took him the most part of an hour to get passable materials. He would have to make do with them.

When he was done, morning had fully broken out and the streets were filling up.

In a good mood, he decided to make a detour by a fancier neighborhood to grab some hot breakfast from a street vendor along with some tea and coffee – he wasn’t sure which Xie Lian would prefer.

Once the food was secured, he hurried back to the apartment to not let it cool too much.

Wu Ming had been successful in fixing the door as silently as he could to not disturb Xie Lian’s sleep before the man barged into the living room.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Wu Ming almost dropped the hammer he was holding on his foot when he heard Xie Lian’s hateful tone.

Shit. Did he mess up already?

“S-sorry. I was just…” He turned around, feeling very insignificant under Xie Lian’s gaze but quickly gathered his wits to not anger him more.

“I thought it would be safer for you if the lock was fixed but the whole door was rotten, so I…” He faltered, looking away before finishing his sentence in a small voice, “I thought replacing the whole door would be the better option.”

“Do you make a habit of changing the lock of other people’s house?” Xie Lian kept looking at him disdainfully.

“No!” Wu Ming exclaimed, horrified.

Why did he always have to destroy everything good? How was he supposed to explain that he really had the best intentions? Why was he so–

“I’m sorry,” he said, defeated. “I was just trying to help, I swear!”

Of course he had to blow everything up not even a day after meeting Xie Lian again.

Should he just… leave now?

There was a silence for a while before Xie Lian asked, “What is that?”

Not understanding what the man was referring to, Wu Ming raised his head to see that Xie Lian’s gaze was fixed on the breakfast sitting on the table.

Not sure of what Xie Lian was asking exactly, he answered hesitantly “Breakfast?”

Xie Lian immediately turned his head and glared at him.

Did he mess up even that? Was Xie Lian mad that he thought he couldn’t take care of himself? But Wu Ming didn’t think that at all! He would never think that Xie Lian wasn’t capable! Or did Xie Lian not like what he brought him? Of course Xie Lian didn’t–

“What are you trying to do here?” Xie Lian’s voice interrupted his internal panicking monologue.

“Nothing, I just–”

“You told me that you had nothing, but you keep bringing food here. And now all those things,” he made a hand gesture towards the mess on the floor in front of Wu Ming, his tone still hard.  “Did you lie to me?”

“No! I stole it!” Wu Ming hurried to justify himself before wincing at his admission. “I… I’m sorry. I know… it’s bad. But since you let me stay here, the least I could do was to help where I could.”

“Winning my favor won’t do you any good,” Xie Lian said harshly.

“I don’t care!” Wu Ming protested. “I don’t want anything. I’m just… I’m just trying to help,” he repeated, lowering his gaze. He didn’t want to see that look in Xie Lian’s eyes anymore.

He heard rustling as Xie Lian walked past him, stopping for a second at the table before going back to lock himself in his room.

When he heard the door close, Wu Ming looked at the table to see that Xie Lian had taken half of the food and the cup of tea with him.

He stared into space for a few minutes, not knowing what to do.

Was he supposed to go now?

He exceeded his welcome and he knew it but…

I’ll finish the door and then I’ll go, he thought.

But then he finished the door and once again found himself powerless in front of Xie Lian’s demand to leave. Even if he hadn’t angered him, Xie Lian had told him yesterday that he could only stay for one night.

The selfish part of him wanted to stay with his dianxia, to not be left alone again. The rest of him didn’t want to impose his pathetic and worthless self on Xie Lian but couldn’t leave him alone in those conditions.

So, he decided to step out of the apartment for now and think of a way to get the rent money. It was the most urgent task for now.

Wu Ming stopped in front of an old garage, looking disdainfully at the tacky green storefront reading “The Green Ghost’s Ring”.

How distasteful. They weren’t even trying to be discreet.

The Green Lantern was a low-level gang that, amongst other things, liked to organize underground fights, whether it was between humans or animals. Everything was very poorly supervised and managed, but it was a good compromise of size and influence. It wasn’t small enough that you couldn’t make a lot of money, but it wasn’t big enough that you would attract unwanted attention from the bigger and more dangerous gangs.

It was regarded as no more than an inconvenience by the influential syndicates like Wuyong or Nether Water, so they let it be and didn’t pay it a lot of attention for the most part.

Its leader, Qi Rong, called himself ‘The Green Ghost’. He was a crass man with who Wu Ming had some history.

He wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t urgent.

He pulled his hood over his head and put his face mask on before pushing the doors open.

No one was in the old garage lobby, so he freely walked to a set of stairs going down to the basement.

As soon as he opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, noises of all kinds assaulted his ears. He frowned, feeling a headache already coming from the mix of deafening bass and yells.

He weaved in and out between the people that had gathered to watch a brawl between two women.

Finding a ‘staff’ member wasn’t hard, their flashy green uniforms standing out horribly from the crowd.

From there, it was much easier than you’d think to sign up for a fight. The only problem was that since he wasn’t a well-known fighter, he would have to win multiple fights to get all the money he needed. Well, that wasn’t really a problem. His martial arts were good, and he was also used to fighting dirty. He would be fine.

As he walked back to Xie Lian’s apartment, Wu Ming remembered why he hated this kind of thing. It wasn’t only the bruises and the cuts. No, it was the people. Qi Rong had showed up at some point and God did Wu Ming not miss his voice. Thankfully, he hadn’t recognized him.

Wu Ming had decided a few years back that he didn’t want to have to deal with trash like that. That he’d rather sleep in abandoned buildings or in the streets than rent a flat to shady men – because no one good ever rent flats for cash to a suspicious teenager who doesn’t have any ID, any anything – with money won from garbage like Qi Rong.

He wiped his bloody nose and sighed.

He arrived in the middle of the afternoon.

Wu Ming hesitated before knocking. Should he just leave the money at the door? Well, he had to make sure that Xie Lian got it. He couldn’t exactly leave it unattended.

He was fidgeting with the envelope in his hoodie front pocket when the door opened abruptly, startling him.

Xie Lian threw him an angry stare and opened his mouth to say something before faltering. He took in the younger man’s appearance with an unreadable expression.

He let out an exasperated sigh before walking back inside his apartment, leaving the door wide open.

Wu Ming hesitated. Was he supposed to follow him? He peaked inside but couldn’t see Xie Lian. Sounds were coming from the bathroom. Is he looking for something?

Wu Ming carefully walked in, closing the door behind him. He was about to ask when Xie Lian came out, passing him and dropping gauze and disinfectant on the couch.

“Don’t bleed on my floor,” he said before going to his room to grab a coat.

After open the front door, he turned around and looked at him in the eyes threateningly before adding,

“Do not touch what’s in the freezer. Go get ice somewhere else yourself if you want some.”

He slammed the door closed.

Wu Ming gaze flickered between the door and the sofa.

He… didn’t gave him the money. Should he just put it on the table and leave? But Xie Lian left him alone in the apartment. That meant he could stay? At least until Xie Lian came back.

Might as well make the best of it, Wu Ming thought. He would try and see if he could fix the plumbery and when Xie Lian would come back, he would give him the money and leave.

With a glance to the fridge, he wondered ‘just what is in the freezer?’  He had thought it was weird before but now it was starting to really worry him.

The pipes in the kitchen were all clogged but thankfully Wu Ming was able to unblock them, taking notes of what pieces would need to be replaced soon.

As he wrapped up in the kitchen, he decided to go check the bathroom. He hadn’t seen it yet, but Xie Lian had told him yesterday than he could use it, so it should be fine for him to go inside.

The room was small, with a shower, a toilet and a sink cramped in the space. It all seemed functional enough, albeit dirty.

Once finishing his checkup, Wu Ming’s gaze fell on the only storage of the room: an old cupboard on top of the sink that also served as a mirror.

He didn’t want to invade Xie Lian’s privacy, but it wasn’t like he was rummaging through his bedroom, right?

While feeling bad, he still opened the cupboard. Inside laid very few essentials along a lot of medical supplies: needles, sutures, gauze, medical tape, medical scissors, bandages, antiseptic, medicines of all kinds, heavy painkillers that Wu Ming wasn’t even sure were legal, …

No matter how accident prone they were, a normal person wouldn’t need all of that.

Why did Xie Lian have those? He hadn’t seemed injured, but could he be concealing a wound?

No, it couldn’t be just that. It was worrying enough, but if it was a one-time injury, he wouldn’t have all these supplies. He was clearly expecting to have to patch himself up a lot. But why?

It couldn’t be just because he lived in a dangerous neighborhood. It must have had something to do with Wuyong.

He definitely couldn’t leave Xie Lian alone like that, he resolved himself. Even if the man asked him to leave, he would find a way to stick around.

He closed the cupboard and busied himself with cooking something for Xie Lian to eat for dinner in the meantime. He wasn’t sure when he would come back, so he sat the food on the table, ready to be reheated and busied himself with cleaning a bit around the place.

After two hours, he started pacing anxiously. It was well past 10pm. Xie Lian should have been back already. Maybe he was planning to spend the night somewhere else. Wu Ming didn’t like that idea, but Xie Lian could do what he wanted. He didn’t owe him anything.

Still, he decided to wait in case he was just running late. He sat on the couch and waited.

Wu Ming woke up with a start. He blinked his eyes open, taking stock of his surroundings.

He was still on the couch, but he now had an old blanket covering him that he was certain he didn’t have before. With a quick look at the table, he noticed that the plate he had left the day before was gone. Did Xie Lian come back?

And most importantly, someone was aggressively knocking at the door.

Wu Ming sat up straight, rubbing his neck. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep sitting.

He was wondering if he should go see who was at the door when Xie Lian barged out of his room, completely ignoring him.

Wu Ming moved to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water while listening to the conversation. The man at the door appeared to be the landlord. In Wu Ming’s opinion, he looked like a slimy fuck. Xie Lian was currently in a heated discussion with him. Bastard came a day earlier than he was supposed to. His voice was getting on Wu Ming’s last nerves.

Xie Lian had left his bedroom door open in his haste to go check who was knocking. Wu Ming glanced inside. It appeared to be messier than it was two days ago. He walked around the table and passed the door to join the two men. As he walked by, he noticed that the air coming from the bedroom was humid and hot, noticeably more so than the rest of the apartment. Just what was he doing in his room?

For now, Wu Ming refocused on the matter at hand. He sighed. He really didn’t want to give money to the asshole at the door, but Xie Lian needed it. So, he took the crumpled envelop from his hoodie and handed it to the guy.

“Here. Take your money and scram.”

“Who are you?” The man looked at him from head to toe with a disapproving look.

“Doesn’t matter. Leave.”

The landlord grabbed the envelop briskly and started counting the bills, looking between him and the money suspiciously.

Wu Ming could also feel Xie Lian’s eyes burning a hole into his head, but he pointedly ignored his gaze.

“Fine,” the landlord eventually said. “Whatever. What you guys are doing isn’t my problem.”

He started leaving before adding “Don’t be late next time!”

Wu Ming slammed the door in his face.

There was a charged silence for a few seconds.

“What was that?” Xie Lian’s voice was calm, but Wu Ming could hear that it was only a facade.

“I–”

“Is that why you came back injured yesterday?”

“Yes,” Wu Ming admitted in a small voice.

“I don’t want your pity!” Xie Lian started earnestly yelling. “I don’t need you!”

“It’s not pity! It’s not!” Wu Ming hastily corrected him. How could he ever pity Xie Lian? “I… Since you let me stay, it’s only fair that I help.”

“I never said that you could stay!”

“I’m sorry, I…”

But Xie Lian didn’t let him finish. He stormed back to his room, clearly done with his apologies.

Wu Ming was about to leave, at least for a few hours – time to think of what he could do to make Xie Lian even slightly less angry at him – when he heard a panicked “Shit!”

He turned around, wanting to ask if Xie Lian was okay, but the man started calling “Ruoye? Ruoye!”

“…”

What was going on?

“Hum… Who’s Ruoye?” Wu Ming asked tentatively.

But Xie Lian didn’t answer him, anxiously looking around. “Ruoye, where are you?!”

At that moment two things happened.

Wu Ming saw a white spot out of the corner of his eye. And said white spot jumped at him.

He panicked for a second before registering that the white spot was in fact an albino snake.

Oh, yeah that must be Ruoye, he thought before panicking even more.

Wu Ming had never been particularly scared of snakes, but he’d like to think that when a 1-meter-long python or-whatever-it-was jumped at you, anyone would panic.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Do I try to get it off? Do I not move?

The snake was coiling around him leisurely, as if gauging him.

“Um… Ruoye wouldn’t happen to be a white snake, right?” Wu Ming said in a tight voice.

Immediately, Xie Lian came back running into the living room and saw Ruoye climbing a motionless Wu Ming who looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Ah, Ruoye!” Xie Lian exclaimed, closing the distance between them. “What are you doing? Stop!”

He quickly tried to untangle Ruoye from Wu Ming’s body and place him around his neck instead.

And Wu Ming would have basked in the feeling of Xie Lian’s hands on him if it wasn’t for the fucking snake around him!

“You have… a pet snake,” he said hesitantly once Ruoye was secured back in his enclosure, away from him.

“Yes,” Xie Lian answered offhandedly while opening the fridge.

“Cool.” Until two minutes ago Wu Ming had thought that people with pet snake were psychos, but he was clearly wrong. “And it escapes frequently?” he asked, trying to sound unbothered.

“No, he must have been hungry.”

That’s… not reassuring at all.

That thought must have appeared on Wu Ming’s face because Xie Lian gave him an exasperated look before saying,

“He wasn’t going to eat you. God. He just wanted to see why there was an intruder in the house.”

Wu Ming winced at being called an intruder. He really had fucked up the past two days, uh.

“That is what he was looking for anyway,” Xie Lian continued, showing him what he had retrieved from the fridge.

It was… those weird things from the freezer!

“What is that?” Wu Ming asked tentatively.

Xie Lian looked at him like he was an idiot. “Mouses.”

Oh.

Oh.

Ah yeah, that made sense. He was an idiot.

“Right,” he said, lamely.

Xie Lian stared at him for a moment longer before turning around to go give his food to Ruoye.

Wu Ming watched him do so through the half open door, racking his brain for smart questions to ask about the snake. The conversation they just had was the longest and most peaceful they ever had. Wu Ming would gladly talk for hours about snakes if it meant talking with Xie Lian, but he didn’t know the first thing about snakes.

“How old is Ruoye?”

“Eleven,” Xie Lian answered as he made sure that the vivarium was really closed so Ruoye wouldn’t escape again. “My parents gave him to me when I graduated high school.”

Wu Ming smiled at the crumbs of personal information. That was progress!

“Oh really?” He had no idea if eleven was old or not for a snake. “And what species is he?”

Xie Lian exited the bedroom and sat heavily on the couch. “Mandarin rat snake.”

Wu Ming stored the information for later. He would look it up on the internet.

“Usually they are not very friendly, but Ruoye has always loved humans. I’m not sure why,” Xie Lian explained. “It used to scare my mom because he would climb all over me and playfully bite me.”

“He bit you?!” Wu Ming asked, immediately putting Ruoye back in the category ‘Dangerous predators’.

“He never bits me very hard,” Xie Lian defended Ruoye a bit harshly. “And he’s nonvenomous.”

Alright, so maybe not very dangerous. But still!

Wu Ming decided to go back to safer waters. Clearly Xie Lian cared about Ruoye very much and didn’t like Wu Ming badmouthing him. “Does it ask a lot of effort to care for a snake?”

“Well, setting up a good environment for them can be a hassle, but once it’s done, they pretty much live on their own. They only require feeding once a week or so.”

After overthinking it a bit, Wu Ming sat on the couch next to Xie Lian – not too close so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable, but not too far so it wouldn’t be weird.

For the next thirty minutes, Wu Ming listened to Xie Lian talking about Ruoye, their previous argument completely forgotten.

The man seemed extremely happy that someone listened to him. In fact, the more he talked, the happier he appeared. For a moment, it was the Xie Lian of ten years ago that Wu Ming had in front of him.

Wu Ming relished the moment. He had believed that Xie Lian hadn’t changed fully. But to witness it like that! He would do everything in his power to bring back that smile to Xie Lian’s face permanently.

The man even showed him the vivarium in his room, uncaring of the papers with sensitive (?) information that he had tried to hide before.

The room was messy and the atmosphere in it uncomfortable, but Xie Lian explained that the air was hot and humid for Ruoye. But not too hot, it was important to have a temperature gradient in his vivarium.

And what a vivarium! The thing took almost half the room. It had a pool, a lot of tree branches and climbing structures, places to burrow and hide, and UVB lamps.

The whole apartment was run down but the vivarium was in perfect condition. Xie Lian clearly took much better care of Ruoye than himself. It saddened Wu Ming that Xie Lian neglected himself so much, but at least he hadn’t been completely alone, and he still had one thing that made him happy.

Their bubble burst when Xie Lian’s phone vibrated. Immediately, the man tensed up. He looked at the notification with a frown on his face.

Wu Ming cursed whoever it was that sent him a message.

When he finished reading the text, Xie Lian got up from where he was sitting on the floor to observe Ruoye in his vivarium and began to rummage in a box under his bed.

Wu Ming tentatively asked “Is everything–”

“Get out of my room.” Xie Lian was back to his cold and aggressive personality.

Damn it. If Wu Ming ever found the person that put Xie Lian in such a mood, he would beat the shit out of them.

He went back to the living room, not wanting to test Xie Lian’s patience.

After a few more minutes, the man got out of his room, locked it, and left the apartment without saying anything.

Great.

For the next few days, Wu Ming kept fixing the apartment. Cleaning, repairing what he could, bringing new stuff that he found in the streets or stole from stores. For the most part, Xie Lian had stopped telling him to leave, which Wu Ming couldn’t be gladder for. He worked twice as hard to prove that he was worthy of staying with him. It was also much easier to work with electric lights rather than candles now that the electricity bill was paid.

But Xie Lian… Wu Ming rarely saw him. He left for days at a time, then stayed locked up in his room all day – not even eating if Wu Ming didn’t knock at his door to give him a plate.

Wu Ming also used his time to look up things about snakes, what they liked, how to take care of them, … He didn’t want to cross a line by taking care of Ruoye, but Xie Lian was more and more tired every day, and Wu Ming ached to relieve that pressure.

Days turned into a week, then two.

Soon it would be a month since the day Wu Ming had found Xie Lian again.

In that time Ruoye had escaped to the living room two more times. Once when Xie Lian was here and once when he wasn’t. Wu Ming had no idea how the snake kept doing that. He had read that snakes were master escapists but still! He was a big snake, and not only was he coming out of his vivarium but also of a room that was always locked.

The second time it happened, Wu Ming learned that Ruoye was indeed affectionate when you didn’t fear for your life.

When Xie Lian had come back, he had been pretty mad to see Wu Ming handling Ruoye, but when Wu Ming had explained that the snake had escaped and he hadn’t been able to bring him back to his enclosure because the door was still locked, the man had calmed down.

Xie Lian had stared at him for a few agonizing seconds with a judgmental gaze, inspecting the way he was holding Ruoye. Had Wu Ming blinked, he would have missed the tiny nod of approbation Xie Lian gave him before taking Ruoye back to his enclosure.

Chapter Text

Wu Ming was cooking when Xie Lian stumbled through the door, knocking down the table in the entrance.

“Are you alright–?” Wu Ming started asking, but when he looked in the man’s direction, he saw that Xie Lian was covered in blood, his face and hands littered with bruises.

He immediately rinsed his hands and rushed over to his side. “What happened?! Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine,” Xie Lian answered curtly.

Wu Ming tried to grab his hand to look at his bleeding knuckles. “You–”

“I said I’m fine!” Xie Lian pushed him away and walked to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Wu Ming was pacing in front of the door.

What could he do when Xie Lian so clearly didn’t want him to get involved in whatever it was that had him come home injured?

Worthless, powerless, useless trash! You can’t even protect him!

He wished he could make sure that Xie Lian at least wasn’t gravely wounded. Though he had been breathing hard, he hadn’t seemed like he was in huge pain, but he could have been hiding it. Maybe Wu Ming should still go in the bathroom and check on him, no matter what Xie Lian said.

As he resolved himself to barge in the room, the door opened on its own.

Xie Lian walked out, looking even more exhausted than 15 minutes ago. He had cleaned the blood on his face and hands but hadn’t bothered with bandaging them.

Thankfully, from what Wu Ming could see of his injuries, it seemed a big part of the blood Xie Lian had been covered with hadn’t been his.

Wu Ming let out the breath he was holding. He walked to Xie Lian, but the man ignored him and went to his room.

Before Xie Lian could close the door, Wu Ming blocked it with his foot.

“Wait! Please, tell me what happened!” Wu Ming tried to ask calmly but it came out more as begging.

Xie Lian sent him a death stare before turning around. He started looking for clean clothes in his wardrobe.

“It’s none of your business,” he answered harshly, taking off his torn and bloody shirt.

In normal circumstances, Wu Ming would have blushed furiously and looked away, but now his eyes were drawn to the large bandages that circled his lower belly.

“At least tell me what this is! Are you injured?” he insisted, his voice dripping with worry.

But Xie Lian pulled a new shirt over his head and started yelling at him. “Won’t you stop?! Quite it! I said-!”

A loud banging at the door interrupted him.

They both froze.

It was very clear by the violence of the knocks that whoever was here didn’t have any good intentions.

“Shit,” Xie Lian whispered.

“Who are they?” Wu Ming asked. He had a very, very bad feeling.

“Just… stay in my room,” Xie Lian ordered.

“Open the fucking door! We know you’re here!” someone shouted from outside.

“No! You’re injured. Let me deal with them,” Wu Ming insisted.

“No, you–”

Seeing that Xie Lian wasn’t going to relent, Wu Ming decided to take drastic measures and pushed Xie Lian on his bed. He swiftly grabbed the door key and walked out of the room, locking Xie Lian inside.

Immediately, the man started banging at the door too.

“What are you doing?! Open the door!”

But Wu Ming ignored him and redirected his attention to the front door. The people outside were now actively trying to break down the door.

Wu Ming had a quick thought at how good of a door maker he would make because his door was still holding up before grabbing a knife that laid abandoned next to the half-cooked food.

How dared they? They hurt Dianxia, ruined his food and were asking for more?

Oh, he would give them more.

He opened his dutifully made door before they destroyed it for good.

Behind it were four very angry looking men dressed in all-black. None of them appeared to have weapons but Wu Ming was sure that they had some hidden on them.

The man in front stumbled, not expecting the door to actually open on its own. Wu Ming sidestepped him and tripped him up. As he fell, Wu Ming elbowed him hard in the back, leaving the man grunting on the floor.

Immediately, the three remaining guys pounced on him.

Wu Ming backed away inside the appartement.

It wasn’t the ideal place to fight. There wasn’t enough space to move around unrestrained, and he didn’t want to damage the flat. He would be the one who would have to fix everything after all.

The second man – who appeared to already have a broken nose – threw a punch at him but Wu Ming dodged it by leaning over and stabbing his knife into his thigh. He fell on the first man who was trying to get up with a scream, gripping his leg as if he was about to lose it.

Pathetic, thought Wu Ming.

The remaining men pushed past the first two to grab him. The tall one with a buzzed head caught his arms while the one with bushy eyebrows went for his legs. But Wu Ming used the tall one’s grip as a support to kick the other in the crotch, hard. He joined the others on the floor.

With three men down, Wu Ming focused his energy to free himself from the tall man. But when he finally succeeded after some good struggle, the man pulled out a gun, having had enough.

A gunshot rang out in the apartment.

“Wu Ming!” Xie Lian called out, distressed, banging at the door of his room with renewed energy.

Wu Ming had no doubt that had he been at his full strength, he would have broken down the door a long time ago.

Thankfully the buzzed head guy was really bad at shooting and missed Wu Ming, even at such a short distance. But Xie Lian’s cry had seemed to finally make him realize that the man he was looking for was in the other room.

He walked to the bedroom to get to him, but Wu Ming stopped him.

“Don’t even think about it!” he yelled, grabbing him by the collar and landing a strong punch on his face.

He heard a satisfying crunch as his fist connected to the man’s nose.

The man let his gun fall to the floor in his surprise. Quickly, Wu Ming grabbed it and hit the man in the temple with the grip of the gun, effectively knocking him out.

He walked to where the other three men were getting back on their feet and knocked them hard on the head too.

He made sure that they were all really out before walking back to Xie Lian’s room and opening the door.

Immediately the man angrily jumped at him. “What is wrong with you?! Don’t ever do that again!”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized to placate the man but was not sorry at all.

Xie Lian deflated a little and looked at the mess in the living room.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding genuinely worried.

“I’m fine,” Wu Ming answered simply, not knowing what to make of the reversal of the situation. Clearly between the two of them, Xie Lian was the one who wasn’t ok!

Xie Lian studied his face for a few seconds, making Wu Ming squirm under his gaze, before fully walking into the living room. He observed the four unconscious men lying around.

“You’re not bad in a fight,” he told Wu Ming absentmindedly.

Wu Ming preened at the compliment, but as his gaze followed Xie Lian’s, he quickly refocused on the matter at hand.

“These men… They are from Wuyong, aren’t they?” he affirmed more than he asked.

Clearly, whatever was going on was beyond Xie Lian. ‘Respecting boundaries’ be damned. This was a big deal. They needed to talk about it!

Xie Lian was startled at the mention of the syndicate. “You… Never mind, it doesn’t matter anymore, forget it.” His face fell back to its usual cold neutrality and he started moving again, going back to his room.

“Wait, wait!” Wu Ming followed him. “Please tell me what is going on! Are you in danger?”

Xie Lian pulled a big bag from under his bed and started throwing clothes and papers in it.

“Just go away. It isn’t a game. It doesn’t concern you, so don’t get involved,” Xie Lian answered, not looking at him.

“I’m already involved,” Wu Ming stubbornly retorted.

Xie Lian stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at him. His face was pale and his bottom lip quivered for a second before he started getting angry.

“Don’t tell me it’s my fault! You did this to yourself! Not me!” He pointed an accusative finger at Wu Ming.

“I wasn’t reproaching it to you,” Wu Ming quickly corrected. “I want to be involved.” He didn’t say ‘in your life’. “I’m just… It’s too late to leave me behind.” He tried to be assertive instead of outright begging Xie Lian to please not leave him behind like he wanted to.

Xie Lian started at him with a hard gaze for a good minute and Wu Ming did his best to hold his ground and not deflate under his glare.

But Xie Lian was the first to look away shamefully, having come to the conclusion that he did already endanger the kid by letting him stay.

“You… Fine,” he relented. “But you stay with me at all times. Don’t even think about talking to anyone else when I’m not here,” he threatened harshly.

But Wu Ming could see that even if his threat was to have control over him, it was also out of concern about Wu Ming’s safety.

He wanted to smile. Staying at his dianxia’s side forever was all he could ask for.

But even if it made Wu Ming want to bask in the attention, Xie Lian shouldn’t have to worry for him, ever.

So, he kept his face serious and made an oath. “I swear I will never leave your side.” Never again.

Xie Lian looked at him with an unreadable expression for a second before turning around and continuing to pack his bag.

When he was 15, Xie Lian wanted to become a lawyer. He was an outstanding student, so much so that he had skipped multiple grades. And so, at 15 he was already in his last year of high school.

His parents, who were both wealthy businessmen, were very happy and proud of his career choice and pushed him to pursue his dream.

And his dream, as he put it, was to “help people”. He thought being a lawyer was the best way to do so.

That same year, he met a young child who was left to fend alone for himself. He showed clear signs of abuse, but no one appeared to care. When the kid left, he felt truly powerless for the first time.

Two months later, he graduated and started an internship in a renowned law firm. Normally, they wouldn’t have taken such a young teenager as an intern, but Jun Wu was acquainted with one of the lawyers.

Jun Wu was a close business partner that Xie Lian was used to seeing around. His parents and him had been working together for years, even though the man was only 15 years older than him. Xie Lian had never particularly cared for him. After all, he had nothing to do with him. So when Jun Wu offered him to follow a prominent lawyer at his job daily for two months during his summer break, he had been surprised, but he had welcomed any help that would lead him to achieving his dream.

Everything went well for a time. Until the second month.

The lawyer had been assigned a difficult case. He had to defend a man who had murdered a child.

Xie Lian was well aware that the job of lawyers was sometimes to defend the undefendable, but he also believed that everyone could learn to feel regret. Of course it was not about letting the man go unpunished, it was about making sure that he served a fair time but then got a second chance at life outside of prison to redeem himself. He believed in a restorative justice and not a punitive one.

Xie Lian had seen the man in person multiple times and had witnessed his real anguish over what he’d done. He kept repeating over and over again how sorry he was. The only thing he appeared to want was to apologize to the family of the victim.

And so, Xie Lian had thought that he deserved a chance at redemption and had even asked the lawyer if he could help with the plea.

The whole trial was a very taxing process. He attended all the sessions that were opened to the public, sitting on hard wood benches. He saw the family of the victim and heard extensively about their history. The father had been violent with his son and the mother had been constantly working. The child had been left alone most of time, wandered where he shouldn’t have and got murdered. He saw the parents blaming each other. But during all of that, there was a tiny voice in Xie Lian’s head that thought ‘That child could have been the boy you met three months ago. That child could be so many others. And how does this help them?’

In the end, the killer was sentenced to only five years. Xie Lian wasn’t sure what to make of that outcome.

The day the verdict was given, the mother came to see the lawyer when he was leaving the building, Xie Lian in tow. She blamed him for her child’s death. The man had to call the security when she became aggressive. Xie Lian looked at her while the security took her away.

At the end of the summer, Xie Lian started pursuing a bachelor’s in social work degree in an accelerate program. He had decided that he wanted to help children before it was too late, before they were dead, and to become a social worker.

He wanted to start working in the field as soon as possible and worked twice as hard as any other student to get his bachelor's degree in 2 years.

His parents were very unhappy about it. Not only because of his new choice of career, but also because they thought that he was too young to start working.

Nonetheless, Xie Lian got his degree at 17 and immediately went to work.

And for a while everything was perfect. He loved what he was doing, that he could make a difference for some kids, and the children loved him too. He even gained a nickname from the youngest children, who thought of him as ‘the pretty and nice man who helps us’, like a dianxia. He had thought that it was embarrassing but it was also adorably cute, so he let the kids call him that.

But three years later, everything went to hell. A kid that was under Xie Lian’s care, Lang Ying, killed himself. Somehow the incident got the medias’ attention – the same media that usually never cared for the kids in the system.

The affair got blown out of proportion and people also started blaming Xie Lian for things he had nothing to do with.

Soon after, he was fired.

He would have tried to pick himself up if it wasn’t for two things.

That very same year, the man that had been sentenced to jail five years ago was released. It only took him a week to kill another child.

Pictures and videos of the first trial started circulating again. Pictures and videos where Xie Lian sometimes appeared next to the killer’s lawyer. In less than two weeks, he had been associated with two children’s death.

Therefore, he went back to his parents’ house for support and to lay low for a while. But his misfortune plagued his family too. He had attracted attention to his parents’ company, and before he could understand it, it went under investigation for ties with the Wuyong syndicate. They were accused of laundering money.

His parents knew nothing of it but were ruined and forced to suffer people’s wrath nonetheless.

When he turned 21, after months of court sessions, his parents lost their trial. They were left with a debt they were incapable of paying.

The three of them spent the next years trying to scrap by, but his parents never stopped trying to prove their innocence and figure out what had really happened. But Xie Lian, thinking it was futile, distanced himself from what they were doing and focused on trying to earn money.

When he was 23, his mother came to see him one night.

“A-Lian, I know you said before that you didn’t want to hear about it but… you should be careful alright? Everything that happened, it was staged. Wuyong made that happen on purpose, and we’re about to prove it. We just don’t know why yet. But whatever their plan is, it can’t be anything good, so why don’t you stay home for the next few days–”

“Just leave it! It’s over!” he had yelled. “You should help me instead of going on a wild goose chase! Why am I the only one who tries to keep us afloat?! Why am I the one who’s paying your debts?!”

He hadn’t believed her then. But that was the last thing his mother told him.

The next day, he went to work early, refusing to tell her goodbye. When he came back, neither of his parents were there. A few days later, they were found dead, drowned at the bottom of a river. A skeletal fish was carved on the boulder they were tied up to.

Given the modus operandi, the crime was attributed to Nether Water.

The same day, he tied a rope around his neck. Jun Wu found him, and when Xie Lian woke up in a hospital, the man told him that he could help him get his revenge against Nether Water and offered him a gun.

To this day, Xie Lian wasn’t sure why he did so, but the man revealed himself as White No Face, the head of Wuyong. He said that his parents had always known as such and had been very good friends and partners, and that was why Nether Water killed them.

He asked him to join the syndicate so he could avenge his parents.

Xie Lian ran.

He didn’t know what Jun Wu’s goal was, but he didn’t buy any of it. He had failed to listen to his parents for the past two years. He would make amends now.

And for two years he disappeared from the surface of the Earth. He resumed his parents’ work from scratch.

He only had one goal: take down White No Face’s criminal empire. Then he could give a second try at killing himself.

As he gave him a rundown on what had happened these past 5 years, Xie Lian continued gathering his belongings in a bag.

Wu Ming listened in silence. He already knew most of the story from what Xie Lian had told him when they were younger and what he had seen in the media. Still, it hurt to hear about it all over again. He wished he could have been with him through it all. He wished he could have helped him. But realistically what could he have done? He had barely reached adulthood when Xie Lian disappeared. He had just been a weak, pathetic, powerless teenager.

For the past two years, Wu Ming had looked for Xie Lian as much as he could when he wasn’t busy surviving. Not knowing he if was still alive. Believing that he was, but filled with constant dread that one day the news would announce that he too had been killed by Nether Water.

Now he got a second chance. He wouldn’t mess it up this time.

But there was still something that he didn’t understand from Xie Lian’s story. Why would Jun Wu reveal his identity so carelessly to a boy he barely knew? It didn’t add up. Or was Xie Lian leaving things out?

“So, do you still think I’m worth following?” Xie Lian asked.

“Yes,” he simply responded.

As if his answer could be anything else. There was nothing that could make him change his mind. He wanted to reassure him more than that, to tell him that none of what happened could ever be his fault, but he knew that Xie Lian wouldn’t welcome a heart-to-heart discussion.

Xie Lian, who hadn’t expected this answer, paused. But he quickly regained his bearings and started explaining what he intended to do now.

“Something weird happened recently,” he said. “Green Lantern started making drug deals. They encroach on Wuyong's territory, but Wuyong isn’t doing anything to stop them. They could have annihilated them immediately, but they didn’t. Something is preventing them from doing so. At the same time, people from the poorest neighborhoods started disappearing. Something is going on, and I want to know what.”

“So you’ve been messing with Wuyong’s underlings to figure it out?” Wu Ming asked, realizing that the situation was so much worse than what he had imagined.

“And I intend to do more than mess with their underlings.”

That answer filled Wu Ming with dread.

“What do you mean?” he questioned with apprehension, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer one bit.

“I’m going to accept Jun Wu’s offer,” he said calmly, while taking Ruoye out of his vivarium.

“What?! You can’t do that! It’s too dangerous!” Wu Ming exclaimed, horrified.

He understood Xie Lian’s craving for revenge. He burned with it too. But it was simply too risky. Revenge wasn’t more important than Xie Lian’s safety!

“I don’t care that it’s dangerous. What I have been doing the past years led me nowhere. It’s useless. The only way to get what I want is from the inside.”

He wrapped Ruoye around his shoulders as he spoke, and then put a thick coat over him to hide him. The snake was slender enough that it couldn't be seen unless you were looking for it.

“You will get yourself killed,” Wu Ming protested.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. You can leave if you don’t like it, I don’t care.”

Xie Lian closed his bag, grabbed it, and started walking out of the apartment.

“No, I… If there’s no changing you mind, I’ll come with you.”

It was a suicide mission, but there was nothing Wu Ming could say that would make Xie Lian reconsider and he knew it. The only thing he could do was follow him and make sure he didn’t die.

“Then follow me.”

As they exited the building, going down the rusty iron stairs leading to the street, Wu Ming asked, “What if Jun Wu changed his mind and doesn’t want you to join his syndicate anymore?”

“We’ll see. But I think he didn’t,” Xie Lian said, as if it explained everything.

Wu Ming didn’t like that answer but decided to trust Xie Lian to not be completely reckless.

“And what about the men at the apartment?”

“They won’t be a problem,” Xie Lian gave him another evasive answer, so Wu Ming decided to drop the matter for now and just walk in silence.

They walked for some time through dim lighted streets. They made their first stop at a dirty shop that rented storage spaces. The woman with greasy hair at the front desk barely acknowledged them as they came in. She was too busy talking with someone on the phone in what Wu Ming thought was German.

Xie Lian dropped his bag in a locker and left without lingering.

They went back to the street, this time taking the direction of the better-off neighborhoods.

As they mingled with the crowd of businessmen and businesswomen starting to stream out of their offices in the business district, Wu Ming wondered if Xie Lian was just planning on going to the headquarters of Heavenly Corp, Jun Wu's main company, and walk into his office.

“So… where are we going?” he tentatively asked.

“I know where some of Wuyong’s bases are, but they would just shoot as us if we showed up there. We need to see Jun Wu directly. The safest option is his front company,” Xie Lian explained as expected.

“You think they will let us see him?”

“Unlikely. We’ll have to find our way to the top floor on our own.”

When they arrived in front of the building, Xie Lian studied the people going in and out for some time.

“Just follow me and don’t be a bother,” he told Wu Ming before walking in confidently.

Heavenly Corp. was a massive company with hundreds of employees from various different social classes, so, thankfully, they didn’t stand out too much.

Certainly, having access to running water had also helped with that. And the increased food stealing – Wu Ming had never bothered much when he was alone, but for Xie Lian it was important.

The main hall was gigantic, with way too much blinding whites and goldens in Wu Ming’s opinion. He had an inkling that the architecture was made so people would feel like ants. If Wu Ming hadn’t already hated Jun Wu, he would now.

A self-important old man walked pass them, followed by what seemed to be an overwhelmed young secretary. Wu Ming noticed that the young man wore something that looked like a magnetic badge with the Heavenly Corp. logo around his neck. That might be useful, he thought.

Xie Lian walked towards the elevators and Wu Ming followed him, trying to discreetly look around without appearing like he was lost.

Right in front of the elevators was a security gate. As they approached, a mass of people came out of the elevators. Wu Ming took advantage of the crowd to discreetly grab a badge sticking out of a woman's pocket.

They arrived at the security gate. They could either go through a metal detector – but Wu Ming suspected that Xie Lian had his gun on him, and they would need to talk to the employee overseeing it – or they could go through a turnstile a few meters away that the employees seemed to use with their badges.

“We need a badge,” Xie Lian said more to himself than Wu Ming.

Wu Ming immediately handed him the one he just stole.

Xie Lian looked at him with mild stupefaction before taking it and turning around.

“Well, we need a second one,” he said.

Before Wu Ming could propose to go get a second one, Xie Lian walked to a man sweeping the floor nearby.

“Excuse me, you wouldn’t have happened to have found a ring while cleaning the floor?” he asked. “It should have been over there,” he pointed at the front desk.

The employee looked at the indicated direction but shook his head. “No, sorry sir.”

“Ah, my wife is going to kill me,” Xie Lian said, dejected.

Wu Ming frowned. He knew Xie Lian was acting, but he still didn’t like it.

He mentally chastised himself. He was ridiculous.

“Sorry,” the employee said again.

When Xie Lian walked back to him, he was holding the man’s badge. He gave it to Wu Ming and they both took the turnstile.

It was easy to guess that Jun Wu’s office must have been on the top floor. The elevator ride was uneventful, and then they just had to avoid people in the corridors.

The last obstacle was Jun Wu’s PA whose office was on the way to Jun Wu’s with half windows instead of full walls. Thankfully, the poor girl seemed overworked and didn’t pay too much attention. They just had to bend to pass undetected.

Before opening the door of Jun Wu’s office, Xie Lian turned toward Wu Ming and told him very seriously to not say or do anything while they were with Jun Wu.

The man was sitting behind his desk, reading some reports with a frown.

“What–” he started asking in an annoyed and aggressive voice when he heard the door open. But when he looked up, he stopped mid-sentence. Surprise taking over his irritated expression.

“Xianle!” he exclaimed joyfully. “How did you get here?”

Every time they had met in person when he was a kid, Jun Wu had always called Xie Lian Xianle. Xie Lian had never known why exactly he did that, but it had always made him feel uneasy.

“Your building is lacking security,” Xie Lian answered, not matching his enthusiasm.

“Really? You sneaked into the building, all the way to my office, without anyone noticing you? That’s impressive.” Jun Wu paused then turned his head to look at Wu Ming. “And who is that?” he asked Xie Lian, not addressing Wu Ming directly while studying him.

“He’s with me,” Xie Lian answered defensively.

Wu Ming internally screamed at the processivity of it. He knew that it wasn’t what Xie Lian had meant but it still made him smirk at Jun Wu.

“Is that so? Um…” Jun Wu rose from his seat and walked closer to Xie Lian. Wu Ming could immediately see from Xie Lian’s body language that he was uncomfortable, and he ached to interfere, but Xie Lian had asked him to not do anything.

“And why are you here Xianle? Last time we talked, you disappeared on me,” Jun Wu asked, a pleasant smile on his face.

“I’m sorry for that. I was mourning my parents. I wasn’t exactly in the right headspace.”

Even if it was all an act, it really pissed off Wu Ming to hear Xie Lian apologizing to that man.

“And now you are?” Jun Wu inquired in a curious tone.

“Now I would like to get revenge. If your offer still stands.”

“Of course it does. What happened to your parents was tragic and despicable.” Jun Wu put his hand on Xie Lian’s shoulder. “Actually, your timing is quite perfect. You can let your little friend here and I’ll tell you everything as we go.”

“Wu Ming stays with me,” Xie Lian said firmly, his voice taking a deeper tone.

“Wu Ming, uh? That’s a curious name,” Jun Wu said to Xie Lian, still acting like Wu Ming couldn’t talk or hear him. “But of course,” he smiled sweetly at Xie Lian, “if you vouch for him, he can come too.”

He let go of Xie Lian’s shoulder and went to open the door. “You can both follow me then.”

Isn’t this too easy? thought Wu Ming.

Jun Wu seemed very eager to have Xie Lian work for him. He hardly asked him any questions, as if he was in a hurry to take him with him, where he could keep him in sight and under control. It didn't bode well.

Jun Wu immediately dropped his work and took a car with them to the Wuyong headquarters. It was only on the way there that he started asking more questions about what Xie Lian had been doing, where he was all this time. But Xie Lian only gave him vague answers.

The car ride was long and the air very thick with tension, even if Jun Wu pretended that there wasn’t any. The man had chosen to drive them himself, so they were alone in the car.

Xie Lian had refused to sit at the front next to Jun Wu and instead went in the back with Wu Ming. Wu Ming would have been delighted that Xie Lian chose him if the other option hadn’t been… well, Jun Wu. It wasn’t much of a competition. Still, he tried to enjoy sitting next to him despite the tense atmosphere.

When they arrived at the headquarters, the door to a garage opened automatically for them and Jun Wu pulled the car in.

From the outside, it looked like a normal, very modern resort composed of four huge main buildings with a big courtyard in the middle.

It all looked very neat. Very pristine. Even the garage was perfectly clean.

Wu Ming wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t that. Though he guessed it made sense.

There were just a little too many cameras, the walls around the compound were just a little too high, and the complex was just a little too isolated to pass for a simple hotel.

They got out of the car and took an elevator to the tenth floor. They walked in silence in a corridor for some time. Emotionless paintings were hung at regular intervals on the walls.

They arrived in front of an office and Jun Wu walked in without knocking. Inside were two people who stopped talking immediately when the door opened. They both looked in their direction.

“Xianle, meet Ling Wen, our Vanguard¹,” Jun Wu pointed at the woman sitting at the desk, looking completely exhausted and drowning in paperwork. She gave them a small nod.

He then turned to the man sitting across from her, “and Yin Yu, our Straw Sandal².”

The man in question had almost no presence at all and looked, ironically, extraordinary ordinary. It was definitely not the kind of man you would expect to see in a crime syndicate.

“Ling Wen, Yin Yu, this are Xie Lian… and Wu Ming.” He posed long enough to show his dislike toward the latter, but not long enough to be considered outright rude. “They are new members. Ling Wen, you can register them as 49ers³ directly, no need for an initiation.”

Jun Wu then turned to them to explain, “Normally I would leave you with Ling Wen, but she is quite busy at the moment. So, I’ll make the explanations short. For now, you will be under the orders of Ming Guang – he oversees all the Red Poles and is a Red Pole himself. I have no doubt that you too will become one in no time, Xianle. But I also want you to help us with a specific situation that concerns Nether Water, for now. So, you are required to come to a meeting tomorrow about it. Until then you are free. Yin Yu will give you the details and a tour of the complex.”

Yin Yu looked like he wanted to say ‘I’m busy too and this is not my job!’, but he only bowed his head and answered, “Yes, Shan Chu⁴.”

Jun Wu left shortly after.

Yin Yu looked very defeated and not too happy while showing them around the place, but it didn’t seem that he was angry at Xie Lian and Wu Ming but more at himself.

Wants recognition but let people walk all over him, Wu Ming analyzed. Most likely harmless.

The tour took quite some time as there was a lot to see.

The east and north wings were full of offices and meeting rooms.

The south wing was the most interesting. On the top floors were multiple libraries with all kinds of books and documents, going from taxes records to kids’ fiction. The floors below were filled with restaurants, private dining rooms, bars and lounges and even a small cinema. At street level were an enormous gym as well as a game room and an arcade with video games, pool tables and even a bowling alley. And finally, there was an underground swimming pool with spa.

It all would have looked like an extremely luxurious hotel complex if not for the immense shooting range as well as the training room filled with all kinds of weapons, that were situated at the same floor as the pool.

Their tour ended with the west wing, the housing wing. The quarters were mostly empty. Some rooms looked occupied, but they didn’t run into a single person on the way to their own.

Yin Yu left them at their doors – that were thankfully next to each other – after telling them that they could either go to the restaurants for diner or order food in their rooms and giving them the directions for tomorrow’s meeting without giving them much more information as to what it would be about.

As soon as Yin Yu was out of sight, Ruoye poked his head out from under Xie Lian's coat. Wu Ming jumped. He had completely forgotten that the snake was there all along.

“What do you think–” Wu Ming tried to start a conversation about everything that had happen,  but Xie Lian ignored him and went to his room, slamming the door in his face.

“…”

Wu Ming sighed and decided to do the same thing and stay in his room for the evening. It was beautiful and spacious, just as luxurious as the rest of the complex.

Still, he didn’t let himself be fooled and combed the entire room to make sure there were no bugs or cameras.

He did find three cameras and four bugs.

Really? Isn’t this a bit excessive? he thought.

He destroyed the cameras immediately. There was no way he would let them watch him while he slept. He hesitated to leave the bugs – they would be less suspicious of him if they could have access to what was said in his room, and he didn’t intend to make much noise anyway – but eventually he destroyed them too. It would have been suspicious of him to leave them too – like he was trying too hard to prove he didn’t do anything wrong in here.

Wu Ming then took a long shower. It had been an exhausting day. So many things had happened that he had completely forgotten about the fight this morning. As he looked over the bruises on his body, he thought about Xie Lian. He had been wounded and didn’t had time to rest properly. He wanted to walk to his room and check on him, but he knew he wouldn’t be welcome.

And what had happened to the men who attacked them?

He pressed his head against the tiled wall and let the hot water run down his body in streams. It didn’t soothe his mind, but it relaxed his muscles. He let out a content sigh when he undid his ponytail and let his hair fall freely and cover his back.

He came out of the shower half an hour later, a towel wrapped around his hips, his body still dripping. He was looking through the closet which was stocked with clothes – he didn’t particularly want to wear any of their clothes, but his own were starting to get dirty and didn’t have any change with him – when someone barged into his room.

He immediately tensed and turned toward the intruder, adopting a fighting stance, the towel sliding slightly downward.

“Wu Ming, there are–”

“…”

“…”

Xie Lian was staring at him, frozen, gaping like a fish out of water, his face completely red.

“Ah!” Wu Ming let out an undignified embarrassed noise.

That seemed to rewire Xie Lian’s brain as the man immediately turned around and ran out the door, yelping a “Sorry!”

Shit.

Wu Ming quickly grabbed the first black clothes he saw in the closet, dressed himself in record time and ran after Xie Lian.

Thankfully, he had already put his contact back in as soon as he got out of the shower.

The man wasn’t in the corridor, so he assumed he had returned to his room. Wu Ming hesitated before knocking at the door.

God, how could he forget to lock his door? Why did he have to embarrass himself like that?

Crying or dying sounded like much better options than having to ever look at Xie Lian again, but he still moved his fist to knock through sheer force of will.

There was no answer for a few minutes and Wu Ming considered actually going back to his room to kill himself.

He hadn’t dried himself and he could feel his hair soaking the back of his already damp shirt.

The door partially opened.

“…”

Xie Lian’s head appeared in the crack.

“I’m sorry–,” started Wu Ming.

“Sorry–,” said Xie Lian at the same time.

They looked awkwardly at each other in silence before Xie Lian spoke again. He cleared his throat. “Hum. I just wanted to tell you that there were bugs and cameras in the rooms.”

“I know,” Wu Ming answered dumbly.

Ah, should he have told Xie Lian as soon as he saw them? It had seemed obvious to him that there would be some.

“… Great,” Xie Lian said, looking everywhere but at his face. “Um, good night then.”

“Good night,” Wu Ming stiffly replied.

Xie Lian gave him a nod and closed the door, leaving a wet Wu Ming standing in the corridor like an idiot.

He slapped his forehead in frustration and went back to his room. Dumbass!

This time he took the time to thoroughly lock and block his door with a chair.

He let himself fall heavily on his plush bed and screamed in his pillow.

Chapter Text

The next day, Wu Ming woke up early. He slept very poorly. Even though the bed was the most comfortable he had ever lay on, he didn’t like to sleep in new places, especially not in the headquarters of a crime syndicate.

He got up with a groan, knowing he wouldn’t find sleep again and resolving himself to take a look around the place – this time, hopefully, without anyone around.

He couldn’t hear any noise coming from the next room, which made sense since it was only 6 am and the meeting they needed to attend wouldn’t start before 9.

The corridors were empty at that hour of the day. Still, he didn’t let his guard down. He had noticed yesterday that there were cameras everywhere in the compound.

He decided to go to the South wing to see if any restaurant was open and took the long way. It would give him an excuse to poke around a bit.

While roaming around, he noticed that the first floor of the South wing had an infirmary, which Yin Yu hadn’t shown them yesterday. Apart from that, he saw nothing out of the ordinary on his way to the 7^th floor.

He was beginning to despair of not finding any food, though. All the restaurants on floors 4 to 6 were closed. Luckily, at the very end of floor 7, one place had its lights on.

As he checked it out, he noticed that the place was empty. There wasn’t a single staff member. It was a buffet style restaurant but still, it was weird. The place looked a bit eerie with steaming food but no one in sight.

Well, no one but one person. A man dressed in blacks and browns, with long dark hair tied in a ponytail, was slumped in a plastic chair, ten plates spread out in front of him on the table.

The man stared at him for a moment before going back to his food.

Wu Ming watched him gulp down Peking duck for a minute before moving to take a closer look at the buffet.

Who the fuck eats Peking duck at 7 in the morning? Where the hell did he even find it? It’s not even in the food options!

Wu Ming settled for a much more normal congee and steamed buns breakfast. While munching on his own food, he glanced a few times at the other man. He didn’t know what to make of him. Why was he eating like hadn’t seen any food in a month?

When he stood up to leave half an hour later, the man was still eating. He even had seconds.

Before exiting the restaurant, Wu Ming grabbed some more steamed buns and congee for Xie Lian, and two fresh quail eggs. It had only been three days since Ruoye’s last meal, but Wu Ming thought that maybe food could help Ruoye feel a little less stressed about the new environment.

He walked carefully to not spill anything, but it still only took him 15 minutes to walk back. It wasn’t that long when didn’t wander around.

He had put everything into two bowls and covered them with plates, bundled in napkins. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too cold.

Noise was coming from Xie Lian’s room, so he didn’t hesitate to knock. The noises stopped immediately, but Xie Lian didn’t open the door.

“It’s me,” Wu Ming announced himself, hoping that he wasn’t actually disturbing the man.

Xie Lian opened the door a few seconds later. “What?”

He was already dressed in a white suit and his hair was up in a bun, but he looked tired and stressed.

“I went to look for food earlier and one restaurant was open. I thought that you might want some.” He handed him the two plates he was carrying.

Xie Lian didn’t say anything and rubbed his forehead. He definitely looked exhausted. Did he even sleep at all?

“Um… and I found some quail eggs for Ruoye too,” Wu Ming added, hoping to get a better reaction out of him.

Xie Lian let out a sigh and moved out of the way, holding the door for Wu Ming. “Right. Come in.”

The room was similar to his own. The curtains were drawn shut, but the heater was on, and on the radiator was a clear plastic box pierced on the top, probably with a knife, with towels inside.

Ruoye poked his head out when he heard Wu Ming coming into the room.

“Put the plates on the table,” Xie Lian said, closing the door behind him.

Wu Ming did as he was told before taking the eggs out of his pocket and placing them next to the rest.

He wanted to ask how Xie Lian was, but he knew the man would just brush him off, so instead he inquired about Ruoye.

“How is he doing?” he asked while looking at the snake who was now trying to escape the container.

“Not too bad so far, but he can’t stay like this for long,” Xie Lian sighed. He walked to the box, opened it, and took the snake in his arms. “Did you see anyone this morning?” he changed the subject.

Wu Ming winced. He didn’t sound accusative, but he knew Xie Lian didn’t want him to go anywhere without him. But getting food should be fine, no?

“Just one man at the restaurant. But he didn’t say anything though, he was too focused on his food.”

“Hm.”

Xie Lian petted Ruoye absentmindedly in silence for some time before sighing. “Go back to your room and be ready in half an hour.”

“Alright.”

Xie Lian was tense the whole way to the meeting room, and for good reason. They basically knew nothing about the meeting. Not how it was going to go, not who would be there, not even what it was about!

When they arrived, fifteen minutes early, three people were already in the room. Two were familiar: Ling Wen who was focused on her laptop, typing on the keyboard posthaste, and Yin Yu who was trapped in what seemed to be a one-way conversation with a young man in a teal suit that definitely looked out of place with his painted nails, eyeliner and bubbly attitude. He couldn’t have been older than 23.

He immediately turned his head to look at them when they walked into the room, his unrestrained wavy long hair smacking Yin Yu in the face.

“Oh! You must be the new guys! Hi, I’m Shi Qingxuan,” he said excitedly. “Yin Yu already told me your names. Xie Lian and Wu Ming, right? It’s good to see new people! I don’t get to–”

“Qingxuan.”

A new man walked into the room, a deep scowl on his face. He looked exactly how you’d imagine a businessman to look. “Behave yourself. This is not recess.”

Shi Qingxuan’s attitude immediately changed, his happy mood flying out the window.

“Sorry ge,” he said dejected. He looked down at his hands and didn’t say anything anymore.

The man, who appeared to be his older brother, took a sit next to Shi Qingxuan and stayed silent too.

Xie Lian and Wu Ming were still standing near the door, not really sure if there were designated seats or not, and if not next to who it would be better to sit: Ling Wen or Shi Qingxuan’s brother.

Thankfully, Yin Yu noticed their hesitancy and nodded toward the free seats next to Ling Wen.

A few minutes of awkward silence later, the two remaining men walked into the room. One of them was of course Jun Wu, but the other they had never seen before. He seemed to be in his early thirties. His face would have looked typically handsome if not for the scar on his left temple. He glared daggers at Xie Lian as he took his seat. Wu Ming immediately hated him.

On the other hand, it was Wu Ming to whom Jun Wu gave a dirty look when he walked in. But Wu Ming didn’t care. It was obvious from the start that Jun Wu didn’t want him here, but it would take him much more than passive aggressivity to make him leave.

Everyone already hates us… Well, that was to be expected.

Jun Wu refocused his gaze on the other people in the meeting. “Before we start, I would like to present you our new members who are going to work under Ming Guang’s orders for now: Dianxia and Wu Ming.”

Xie Lian’s face immediately darkened at the mention of the nickname, his eyes reflecting his dislike for the address and his confusion.

“Oh right, didn’t I tell you?” Jun Wu asked him with a smile. “All of our executives have titles that we use as their name,” he explained. “Well, you’re not an executive yet, but I’m sure you will be one in no time, so I thought we might as well give you a title now.”

He smiled kindly, as if he was doing a favor to Xie Lian. Which, based on the scowls on most people’s faces in the room, he was. But Wu Ming knew what he was doing. And he was doing it to hurt Xie Lian.

Wu Ming wanted to bash his head on the table.

The others, on top of being unhappy, also seemed very confused.

Just who is this guy for the Shan Chu to call him dianxia?! they all clearly wondered.

“Dianxia, this is Ming Guang,” he pointed at the man with the scar, “Shui Shi, our Deputy Mountain Master¹ and White Paper Fan²,” he indicated Shi Qingxuan’s presumed brother, “and his assistant Feng Shi,” he finished by pointing at Shi Qingxuan.

“Now that the presentations are done, we can start the meeting. Yin Yu, you can present the situation.” He leaned back in his seat and folded his hands.

Yin Yu awkwardly cleared his throat, before taking the floor.

“As most of you know, the Green Lantern gang has, for some reason, decided to take some of Wuyong’s shares of the drug market.” He glanced at Jun Wu before adding, “This is unacceptable, and normally, they would have been wiped off the map swiftly.”

He tapped his tablet and footage of altercations between Wuyong and Green Lantern members appeared on the conference room’s screen.

“However,” he continued, “in the past few weeks, the power ratio seems to have shifted. They have gained more and better weapons and men. Not enough for them to be a real threat – far from it – but it is not something they could have achieved on their own. Therefore, we suspect that a powerful syndicate is helping them. The only one who has enough means to sustain them like that is Nether Water.”

He finished his summary, and as soon as he stopped talking, he blended into the background again.

“That is why we must proceed with caution about this whole situation,” Jun Wu spoke again. “Before taking any direct actions against Nether Water, we need proof that they are indeed involved. And we need to figure out why they decided to make an alliance now when they have always hated each other.”

None of what had just been said was a surprise to any of the Wuyong’s executives, but while Ming Guang and Yin Yu seemed thoughtful, Shui Shi looked stressed.

Wu Ming didn’t really know what to make of the information, but Xie Lian didn’t seem particularly shocked, so he assumed it wasn’t a surprise to him either.

“Ming Guang, I need you to lead this operation on field. Shui Shi, Ling Wen and I will tell you what to do soon. In the meantime, focus on taking down Qi Rong’s bases. Dianxia will help you.”

Ming Guang had been nodding the whole time but frowned at the last sentence. Still, he didn’t dare question Jun Wu.

After that, the meeting wrapped up quickly, but Ming Guang lingered in the room with Xie Lian and Wu Ming.

He looked them up and down with a contemptuous air.

“I don’t know where you came from but don’t think that I will show you the same special treatment than the Shan Chu does.”

Xie Lian didn’t answer and simply stared back at him with a similarly scornful look.

Wu Ming was dying to make Ming Guang swallow his contempt but refrained from saying something.

Ming Guang let out an audible sigh. “Do you even know how to fight?” he asked derisively.

“Of course,” Xie Lian snickered.

Ming Guang turned his gaze to Wu Ming. “Both?”

“Yes,” Xie Lian answered for him more harshly.

Wu Ming smiled inwardly. Xie Lian hadn’t even seen him fight but he trusted his abilities.

“Fine, so you won’t mind a friendly spar?” Ming Guang asked with a smirk.

The training room wasn’t empty when they entered, but all the people inside scurried away when they saw that Ming Guang wasn’t in a good mood.

He walked towards the part of the room covered with tatami mats.

“Come on Dianxia, show me what you can do,” he said to Xie Lian, not even bothering to take a fighting stance.

Xie Lian took off his jacket and handed it to Wu Ming before joining Ming Guang.

“Rules?” he asked.

“None,” the Red Pole smirked before lunging at him, a heavy fist swinging toward Xie Lian’s face.

Xie Lian moved with grace, his body tilting just enough to let the punch sail past him. Ming Guang frowned and quickly followed up with another punch, then another, each strike faster and more forceful than the last. But Xie Lian was like a dancer, flowing around the blows, his movements effortless.

Wu Ming could only feel blessed to have the chance to witness it. Watching Xie Lian fight had always felt surreal. He looked too ethereal to be true. Wu Ming felt unworthy to lay his eyes on him, yet he was drinking his every movement.

Frustration etched itself on Ming Guang’s face as his punches continued to miss their mark, his anger growing with each failed attempt. He threw a wild haymaker, putting all his strength into it, but Xie Lian ducked under it smoothly, his eyes still calm, observing.

"Stop dancing around and fight me!" Ming Guang growled, his patience wearing thin. He charged again, this time feinting left before sending a vicious kick toward Xie Lian’s side. But Xie Lian stepped back, the kick slicing through empty air.

Ming Guang came at him again, but this time, Xie Lian didn’t evade. Instead, he met the oncoming punch with a precise parry, his hand moving like lightning to deflect the blow. Ming Guang’s eyes widened in surprise as Xie Lian stepped in, too close now for another strike. Xie Lian’s elbow shot forward, driving into Ming Guang’s ribs with pinpoint accuracy.

The impact forced the air from Ming Guang’s lungs in a harsh gasp. He staggered back, clutching his side, but Xie Lian didn’t give him a moment to recover. He was already moving, his fists a blur as he struck with surgical precision—one, two, three blows landing on Ming Guang’s chest, ribs, and finally, a sharp uppercut to his jaw.

Ming Guang reeled, his head snapping back. His confidence, so unshakeable before, was crumbling as he realized he was outmatched. Desperation took over, and he swung wildly, but his punches were sloppy. Xie Lian danced around them with ease, his movements a perfect balance of grace and power.

Then, with a fluid motion, Xie Lian sidestepped a clumsy punch and delivered a spinning kick to Ming Guang’s temple. The blow was like a sledgehammer, sending Ming Guang crashing to the ground. He hit the floor with a definite thud – a clear indicator of the end of the fight and its winner.

Ming Guang stood up, frustration written on his face, but made no excuses for his defeat.

“Fine. You win this one, I’ll admit it. I underestimated you.”

Xie Lian didn’t dignify him with a reply, appearing uninterested in what the man had to say.

“But fists aren’t what you’ll need if we face Green Lantern. You’ll have to use weapons.”

Ming Guang walked over to a wall which, after he pressed a button, opened in two, revealing a collection of weapons of all types – from blades to firearms, by the way of bats and tasers.

He grabbed two clip point knives and handed one by the blade to Xie Lian.

“Round two,” he said, readying his own blade.

Even though he knew Xie Lian could handle it, Wu Ming tensed at the sight of the weapon pointed at Xie Lian.

But Xie Lian was unfazed, and the fight went the same way as the previous one, ending with Xie Lian's blade under Ming Guang's neck.

Watching Xie Lian dominate so thoroughly Ming Guang in combat was exhilarating, and left Wu Ming feeling a bit hot.

This time Ming Guang didn’t say anything to Xie Lian and addressed Wu Ming instead.

“Your turn.”

This got a reaction out of Xie Lian who frowned at the knife in his hands. He was about to say something when Ming Guang threw his weapon to the side of the tatami mats.

“No weapon first. I have a feeling Dianxia wouldn’t be too happy if I cut you open,” he said derisively.

Do you really think so? Do you think that he cares about me? he didn’t say out loud because that would be pathetic.

“You wouldn’t,” he answered instead.

Their fight was messier. Of course, he knew he could never dream of being as good as Xie Lian, but he was on a par with Ming Guang.

His fighting style was a lot less graceful than Xie Lian’s. More aggressive. Angrier. Less controlled and more instinctual. He grew up fighting after all.

He hadn’t lost a fight since he was a kid, and he didn’t intend to lose this one. Moreover, Xie Lian was watching him. He could feel his eyes burning a hole in his head. He didn’t want to disappoint him. He didn’t want him to regret bringing him with him.

It was the first time that Xie Lian saw him fight, so he had to show him that he was worthy to stand at his side, that he was able to help him in his quest, that Xie Lian could rely on him.

With a final powerful kick, he sent Ming Guang to the ground.

The man was clearly feeling humiliated, visibly fuming as he picked up his knife.

Xie Lian walked over to Wu Ming and handed him his. Wu Ming met his gaze. Xie Lian didn’t say anything, but he was looking at him approvingly.

Wu Ming grabbed the knife, his heart fluttering. Please keep looking at me like that.

The second fight went even better than the first. He liked the feeling of the knife in his hand and the blade pointed at him didn’t scare him the way it had when it was directed to Xie Lian. He didn’t care about getting hit.

After a few minutes he had managed to disarm Ming Guang, his knife clattering as it fell on the floor.

“Who the fuck are you two?” Ming Guang asked – his voice a mix between anger and utter incredulity.

Xie Lian shrugged and asked, “Was that all?”

“No.” He was fulminating. “Shooting next.”

He put his knife away where he had found it and stormed into the next room.

“He is a sore loser,” Wu Ming said.

“Not necessarily. I think he just doesn’t like us in particular,” Xie Lian answered mockingly before following Ming Guang.

Wu Ming quickly put his blade away and went after the other two.

The shooting range was impressive. The air carried the scent of gun oil and burnt powder.

The room was divided into several lanes, each one bordered by thick concrete walls that absorbed the sound of shots. At the far end, rows of paper targets hung from motorized rails at different distances, waiting to be sent downrange at the flick of a switch. Beyond the targets, the walls were scarred with marks from missed shots, the ground littered with spent casings.

Ming Guang handed them each a gun and pressed a button, bringing down three targets at medium range.

Wu Ming studied his weapon. He had never used a gun before. He had seen some, of course – up close – but he had never been much of a firearms fan.

He knew how to use a gun but wasn’t very confident in his abilities to hit the target. He sighed internally and prayed he would make a fool of himself.

He glanced at Xie Lian who looked much more comfortable than him. Of course the man had used a gun before. He knew that. But he had never actually seen him shoot. Though he had no doubt that he could only be good at it.

He didn’t pay attention when Ming Guang started shooting at the target – his eyes were only on Xie Lian.

Ah, he certainly looked attractive with his confident pose and his stern expression, gun in hand, barely flinching from the recoil.

Wu Ming only came out of his trance when Ming Guang slapped his shoulder.

“Are you gonna stand here the whole time or do you plan on shooting?”

Xie Lian looked back at him at the sound of Ming Guang’s voice. Wu Ming flushed a little when Xie Lian caught him staring and quickly turned his head back to the lane in front of him.

Ming Guang's target was riddled with bullets in the heart and head with near-perfect accuracy. It was clear that he had been using a weapon frequently for years.

Xie Lian’s was a little more scattered, but all the bullets had still hit vital spots.

Wu Ming looked at his gun with apprehension. There was no way he could shoot even remotely as good as that.

He raised his weapon, closed his right eye, braced himself for the recoil, and pulled the trigger.

He held his breath for a moment before letting it out when he saw that he had hit the target in the chest. It wasn’t good but it wasn’t bad either! Definitely better than what he had been expecting.

He emptied his magazine with a little more confidence. All the bullets hit the target, some closer to vital spots, some less.

“You’ll need to work on that. You–,” Ming Guang said with a snicker but was interrupted by his phone vibrating in his pocket.

He let out a groan of annoyance as he checked the message.

“You’ll have to train without me,” he said as he put back his phone in his jeans’ pocket. “I have other things to attend to. Stay here. I’ll come get you later.”

They both watched him walk out the door in silence.

After a minute, Xie Lian refocused his gaze on Wu Ming and asked him, “You never used a gun before, didn’t you?”

“No,” he answered simply.

“Hum.” He looked at the target. “It’s not that bad. You just need a bit of practice.”

“R-right.”

“Here. I’ll show you.”

Xie Lian grabbed his hands and placed them on the butt of the gun, encasing them with his own.

Wu Ming felt his body press against his, his heat seeping through his clothes and burning him at every point of contact.

Xie Lian aimed with him, but Wu Ming couldn’t focus at all.

What is happening?

He hadn’t expected Xie Lian to touch him, especially so… much. He could feel his own body burning up and he hoped Xie Lian couldn’t see his red face.

His hands were slightly shaking in Xie Lian’s grip.

“Steady,” Xie Lian whispered in his ear. Wu Ming shuddered.

Was he doing it on purpose? There was no way he didn’t notice Wu Ming’s body reaction.

Panicked, Wu Ming pulled the trigger, the loud bang taking him by surprise.

It was a perfect hit, right in the heart.

“Good,” Xie Lian praised, letting go of his hands.

“T-thanks,” he stammered, his face flaming red.

“Again.”

“Wha–”

Xie Lian grabbed his waist and moved his body, repositioning his feet and raising his elbows with strong hands.

Wu Ming bit back a whimper. Xie Lian was going out of his way to teach him, the minimum he could do was to focus on the lesson. But his touch burned like hot coal and he couldn’t will his mind back to the shooting range. Everything was blurred outside of their two bodies pressed tight against each other. He thought he might as well dig a hole and die now of embarrassment.

He had no idea how he went through the following half an hour. It was hell and paradise at the same time. He was dying and ascending while Xie Lian acted like everything was perfectly fine.

When Ming Guang came back and Xie Lian let him go, Wu Ming didn’t know if he was relieved or upset.

“First mission,” Ming Guang announced, looking at his phone. “You will take down one of Green Lantern’s warehouses and steal the goods.”

“Unfortunately,” he looked up with a smirk, “I can’t come with you. But I’m sure you’ll do fine on your own.”

“What?! You don’t mean all alone, right?” Wu Ming exclaimed. “Just say you want to kill us!”

“Now, why would I want that?” Ming Guang feigned innocence.

“You–!”

“Wu Ming,” Xie Lian interrupted him, placing his hand heavily on his shoulder.

“You should keep him in a tighter leash, Dianxia,” Ming Guang sneered. “Disobeying orders won’t do him any good around here.”

How the fuck dared he?! Wu Ming wanted so bad to punch his smirk out of his face.

Xie Lian moved to step in front of him. “Stop messing around and get to the point, Ming Guang,” he said harshly. “What can you tell us about the mission?”

“Humph. Fine, follow me. I’ll brief you.”

They moved to a conference room where Ming Guang explained that their reconnaissance team had found a small warehouse on the eastern docks.

“According to our information, it should contain about a 100 kg of heroin.”

That’s a small warehouse?! What the fuck?! That would be – what? – at least ¥20,000,000³!

He had seen enough people pushing drugs in the streets to know how much they costed.

“The warehouse isn’t heavily guarded. That would be too conspicuous. They should have only a dozen guards patrolling around.”

But that was still a dozen against two. Wu Ming didn’t like those odds but bit back his commentary.

Ming Guang kept explaining what they had to do and how to do it for over an hour. He looked way too smug the whole time and it took Wu Ming everything he had to not punch him in the face.

Xie Lian’s expression was unreadable. He had his arms crossed and didn't say a word.

After that, Ming Guang gave them both an untraceable phone.

Wu Ming looked at it thoughtfully. As untraceable as it might be, it was certain that Wuyong could spy on it. Still, it a big upgrade from his previous burner that had been out of minutes for months.

“My number’s on it,” Ming Guang said. “Don’t call me unless you’re dying.”

He then took them to equip themselves. They grabbed guns, bullets, silencers and knives, then changed into tactical outfits – every piece of gear chosen for practicality and stealth. The fitted jacket, adorned with multiple pockets and reinforced padding, hinted at both protection and readiness. Sturdy black combat boots made no sound against the concrete floor, while tactical gloves gripped tools and weapons with ease.

Wu Ming tightened his high ponytail, enough for it to hurt.

Before he could put his face mask on, Ming Guang handed them two demon masks, one white and one black, made to cover only the bottom half of the wearer’s face.

“Shan Chu told me to give them to you.”

Wu Ming frowned. That was weird. Why would he do that? Was it a Wuyong thing? Somehow, he doubted it.

Still, they didn’t have much choice, so they both put them on, leaving only sharp, focused eyes visible.

Being all set, the only thing left to do was to get to the underground parking lot and take a car.

As Xie Lian drove them away from the compound and to the docks, Wu Ming wondered how he could ask for his number without being weird. But Xie Lian beat him to it.

“Put your number in my phone,” he told him, tossing said phone in his direction.

“Y-yes,” Wu Ming stumbled.

He tried not to smile. He knew it was for professional reasons only but still.

Oh god, he was ridiculous. They had lived together for a month and here was losing it because the man asked for his number.

He didn’t know if Xie Lian had a phone other than this one, but he had never talked about exchanging numbers previously.

Before he could ask about it, the car stopped. Xie Lian turned it off, leaving them in the dark.

Lights were coming from in front of them.

Xie Lian stayed silent for a minute before saying, “Stay back.”

“What?”

“I…” He faltered before harshening his tone. “I don’t want you to drag me down.”

“What?” Wu Ming repeated dumbfounded. “No! I’m not letting you go alone!”

“If you get hurt–”

“I won’t!” He felt bad interrupting Xie Lian but there was simply no way he would let Xie Lian face the Green Lanterns on his own.

Xie Lian gave him a death glare, but Wu Ming looked into his eyes defiantly.

“Fine,” the man ended up conceding with an exasperated sigh. “But if there is a fight, you stay behind me.”

Wu Ming didn’t reply. He sure as hell didn’t intend to.

As Ming Guang had said, there were only a few people outside the warehouse. Getting closer wasn't too difficult. They observed the movements of the four men outside and decided to take care of two each.

The important thing was to be as discreet as possible. As long as they didn't get spotted, they wouldn't have any problems.

They split up, each taking one side of the warehouse. Wu Ming didn’t have much qualm about killing them, but he knew that Xie Lian wouldn’t like it. Even if he pretended not to care, Wu Ming knew it was getting to him, or it would eventually at least.

So, he knocked the two guys out swiftly, one after the other. It was easy enough: distract them with a flash of light, walk behind them, hit them hard on the head.

He walked around the building and saw that Xie Lian had done the same thing.

Now that the outside was cleared, they walked wordlessly towards the door of the warehouse. It was the only entrance, and the building had no windows. They had no other choice.

Still, charging inside blindly would certainly end terribly for them.

Thus, they decided on opening slightly the door and immediately throwing a stun grenade inside. Hopefully, it wouldn’t land anywhere near where the drug was stored.

A loud bang echoed through the night and the remaining men inside groaned in pain.

Immediately Xie Lian and Wu Ming stormed the room. There were 8 men in the room, all armed with assault rifles. Soon they would start to regain their vision and hearing. There wasn’t any time to knock them all out.

Before Xie Lian could do it, Wu Ming took action and shot them. Three fell to the ground and stopped moving, two dropped their weapons at the unexpected pain, but the remaining three started shooting blindly in their direction.

They both ducked to dodge the bullets, taking cover behind a huge crate near the door.

Splinters of wood flew as bullets tore into the crate, the deafening noise of gunfire filling the air. Xie Lian and Wu Ming exchanged a quick glance, their expressions grim but resolute. The situation was rapidly spiraling out of control, and they needed to act fast.

Xie Lian shifted his position, peeking around the edge of the crate to assess their enemies. The two men who had dropped their weapons were fumbling in the dark, still disoriented from the grenade's impact. The other three, though blind, were spraying bullets wildly, their erratic fire keeping Xie Lian and Wu Ming pinned down.

Xie Lian reached into his belt, pulling out a smoke grenade.

“Hold your breath.”

With a quick motion, he pulled the pin and tossed it toward the center of the room. Thick, dark smoke began to fill the air, obscuring the lungs of their attackers and giving Xie Lian and Wu Ming the cover they needed.

Xie Lian didn’t hesitate and sprang from behind the crate, moving swiftly through the smoke, staying close to the ground. The two disoriented men looking for their weapons were easy targets, and he made quick work of them, delivering precise blows that left them unconscious.

Meanwhile, Wu Ming advanced on the shooters, who were now coughing and struggling to breathe in the smoke. He fired ruthlessly, neutralizing them one by one before one of their bullets could touch Xie Lian.

In the sudden, eerie quiet that followed, Xie Lian and Wu Ming escaped from the room to breathe the fresh air outside.

When the smoke began to clear a few minutes later, they both went back inside to survey the room. Bodies littered the floor, but the drug stash appeared untouched.

“We need to move fast,” Xie Lian said, his voice low but firm. “Others will have heard that.”

Wu Ming nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. “Let's start loading the drug into the car.”

Together, they moved deeper into the warehouse, the scent of gunpowder and smoke bomb still thick in the air, the weight of what they just did pressing heavily on their shoulders.

At least Xie Lian didn’t have to kill anyone, Wu Ming reasoned.

Moving the drug took them longer than they would have liked, but by the time they had finished people had yet to come.

They took off in the dark, heading back to the Wuyong headquarters.

Wu Ming slumped down in his seat and let the tension drain from his body. This had gone much better than he thought it would. They both got out unharmed.

He glanced at Xie Lian. The man seemed lost in thought, but he was more relaxed than before, so Wu Ming took it as a good sign.

The drive back was more peaceful than the way there, the humming of the car almost lulling Wu Ming to sleep.

Xie Lian parked the car in the compound’s parking lot and they both slowly got out, exhaustion weighing down their bones. They both took their masks off.

He turned on his phone and called Ming Guang. He only told him where they were before hanging up, not wanting to deal with his bullshit at the moment.

They rested side by side, their backs against the car, waiting for Ming Guang to come.

“You’re okay?” Xie Lian asked after ten minutes of silence.

“Yeah,” Wu Ming said, not really sure how to answer.

“Good.”

“…”

“…”

“… Are you?” he asked hesitantly after some time.

“Hm” was all Xie Lian answered.

They fell back into silence after that. Normally, Wu Ming would have tried to find an uncontentious topic of conversation, but he was too tired to think about it.

Fortunately, Ming Guang arrived soon after, a pissed off look on his face.

“You have it?” he asked with a raised brow.

Xie Lian didn’t dignify him with a reply and simply opened the truck.

“If everything is fine, we’ll take our leave,” he said at Ming Guang’s stunned expression.

“You…”

Xie Lian didn’t let him form an answer and started walking away, Wu Ming in tow, leaving a flabbergasted Ming Guang behind.

Wu Ming snickered as they walked back to their rooms.

However, before they could reach their bedrooms, Yin Yu found them.

“Ah, you’re back!” He stopped them on their way. “Have you seen Ming Guang?”

Xie Lian nodded, clearly irritated by the interruption so close to their rest.

“Did he tell you about the next mission?” Yin Yu asked, writhing under Xie Lian’s hateful gaze.

Wu Ming bit back a groan. Already?!

“No.”

“Ah, um…” He looked at Xie Lian before backing off. “Well, I guess it can wait for tomorrow. He’ll probably explain it better than me anyway. Um… goodnight.”

He quickly took his leave, which left them standing before their doors in silence.

Xie Lian let out an audible exhausted sigh. “Well, goodnight.” He started opening his door.

“Goodnight.” Wu Ming did the same.

But right as Wu Ming was about to close his door behind him, Xie Lian called him.

“Wu Ming.”

“Yes?”

“… You did good today.”

“T-thanks,” he answered, flustered.

“Right. Bye.” Xie Lian closed his door.

Wu Ming kept standing there for a moment before closing his door too and slumping on his bed.

Chapter Text

They went to find Ming Guang the next day.

“Dianxia finally graces us with his presence,” the red pole said, watching them enter the room with sharp eyes even though he was lounging on his office’s chair like he couldn’t care less about them.

“It’s a wonder Ming Guang can't seem to be able to go a day without me,” Xie Lian answered with as much sarcasm in his voice. “One would think you’d have other things to do, other members to oversee.”

“And I’d much rather do that. But Shan Chu demanded that you personally go on this mission with me, so we’re stuck with each other for now.”

Wu Ming internally groaned, a frown showing on his face. The day just kept getting worse. It already was maddening to have to deal with Ming Guang for operations meetings, but go on a mission with him?

Maybe other people would be there too, and he and Xie Lian would be able to stay away from the red pole.

“Anyway,” Ming Guang kept talking as Wu Ming and Xie Lian took the seats in front of his desk. “This will be your first real mission. So don’t fuck it up.”

Xie Lian sneered but Ming Guang ignored it.

“Black Water will be holding an art auction in three days. Nether Water is known for stealing and reselling antiquities or any kind of big shot piece that’s worth money. But what interests us is that the Green Ghost will be there. It’s obvious to everyone that he has no taste in art and couldn’t care less about the auction. Which means that he must have come to meet with someone. So, our job is to spy on him.”

That’s not good, Wu Ming thought. Qi Rong may be stupid, but he could recognize him if he saw him roam around him.

“So what, we just show up there?” Xie Lian asked distrustfully.

“Of course not. Only VIP can get in. But,” Ming Guang sat up straight, “we got intel about three guests. We will take their identities. They are perfect targets: they would be easy to dispose of before the auction, they are a couple and their friend so sticking together won’t be suspicious, and they are VIP enough to grant us access to most of the rooms of the hotel where the auction will be held, but not enough to attract too much attention. And they shouldn’t know anyone else at the auction personally.”

“So we disguise ourselves as them? Physically?” Wu Ming asked.

It will probably be ok then, he thought to himself.

“Exactly,” Ming Guang answered with a suspiciously happy smirk.

“How did you get that intel?” Xie Lian asked, skeptical, a serious look in his eyes.

“One of Green Lantern’s red poles,” the man simply said without elaborating.

But Xie Lian kept pressing. “You have a spy planted in Green Lantern?”

“Xuan Ji isn’t a spy per say, but she tells me what I want to know,” he shrugged.

“Can’t you ask her directly about the deal between the Green Ghost and Black Water?” Xie Lian questioned.

“She says she doesn’t know anything about it.”

Sounds like bullshit, Wu Ming thought. Even if she didn’t know exactly why Black Water was helping Qi Rong, she should still be able to provide them with proof that they had an arrangement. It’s her men that were getting reinforcements after all.

Xie Lian wasn’t buying it either. “And you believe her?”

“She wouldn’t lie to me,” Ming Guang said, a disgusting smirk on his face.

Wu Ming grimaced. Really? What an overconfident asshole.

Xie Lian didn’t look impressed either but gave up and dropped the matter. He had a feeling that if he kept talking about her, he would hear things he didn’t want to.

"Anyway," Ming Guang returned to the original topic. "As I was saying, our three targets are perfect in every aspect. Expect one,” he said with glee. “One of them is a woman. So, one of you will have to play dress up.”

He was way too happy about it. It made Wu Ming wonder if he didn’t choose the targets on purpose.

He wanted to ask why Ming Guang wouldn’t do it, but objectively it was obvious that between the three of them, the red pole was the one who would pass the less as a woman.

Wu Ming tentatively looked at Xie Lian. The man’s expression was stormy and he glared daggers at Ming Guang, while the red pole was holding his gaze with a smirk of his own.

Seeing that Xie Lian wasn’t happy with the ‘suggestion’, Wu Ming awkwardly cleared his throat.

The two men engaged in a staring contest turned to look at him in sync.

“I can do it.”

Xie Lian blinked at him.

There was a silence for a few seconds that made Wu Ming squirm under the two men’s gazes.

Is it that weird? I mean, it’s not that much of a big deal…

“Really?” Xie Lian finally said with incredulity.

Ming Guang laughed. “Not what I expected but fine. If it’s your thing.” He winked at him.

Wu Ming gave him a death stare.

“With that settled,” he continued, unphased, “I’ll send you files about our targets. Study them so you can impersonate them perfectly.”

After that, the meeting finished in a tense atmosphere. Xie Lian kept glaring daggers at Ming Guang until they left.

“Are you sure you’re ok with it?” Xie Lian asked as they sat in front of each other in one of the many restaurants – a Korean one.

“Yeah?” Wu Ming answered, feeling less confident in his decision by the minute. He hadn’t thought much of it, but they were all reacting like he had grown a second head. “It’s not a big deal.”

“… If you say so.”

After that, they both munched their pajeon in silence.

They went to a private lounging area to go over the files Ming Guang sent them together later in the afternoon. They had grabbed some laptops in another room and were now using them to browse through the documents.

They had agreed to focus only on the task at hand for now. Learning their roles and training in case something happened and they needed to fight or run. There was no doubt that they were being watched closely, so they had to behave perfectly – at least at first. They needed to gain Wuyong’s trust – especially Ming Guang’s and Jun Wu’s – before sniffing around, even if it was off to a bad start.

Which left them reading their files next to each other.

Name : Zhao Liwei

Born : September 16, 1996, in Chongqing

Married to: Zhao Huiyan

Occupation : Business Magnate, Founder and CEO of Bailong International Group

[…]

Name : Zhao Huiyan

Born : February 23, 1999, in Chengdu

Married to: Zhao Liwei

Occupation : Business Magnate, Chairwoman of Bailong International Group, Art Collector

[…]

Wu Ming glanced at the man next to him.

Married.

They were married.

Well, obviously it was just a role but still. Even if it was just for a few hours. Even if it was just pretending. They were married.

He wasn’t sure how that would work. Would they hold hands? Would he put his hand on his waist?

Wu Ming had been stealing glances at Xie Lian every two minutes for the past half an hour, but the man was pointedly avoiding his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in his reading.

Of course it would make him feel uncomfortable.

He deflated. He was not Zhao Huiyan. He was just himself. His worthless, pathetic, disgusting self.

Downcast, he refocused on the laptop in front of him. Most of the file’s content was very boring information about the couple’s business.

Bailong International Group

Founded : March 2018

Founder & CEO : Zhao Liwei

Chairmen : Chen Jian, Zhao Huiyan, […]

Headquarters : Hong Kong

Industries : Real Estate, Technology, Finance, Renewable Energy

Origins of Bailong International Group

Initially focused on real estate, Bailong International rapidly acquired distressed properties in mainland China, Hong Kong, and Southeast Asia, transforming them into high-end residential complexes and commercial centers. Its early success in property development earned Zhao Liwei the reputation of being a real estate visionary.

Zhao Huiyan, a brilliant businesswoman in her own right, became Chairwoman of the company in 2020. Her leadership skills, combined with her deep understanding of global markets, helped expand Bailong International’s reach into technology and renewable energy. Together, the couple created a conglomerate with a diverse portfolio, cementing Bailong International as a major player in the international business landscape. […]

Ugh. Wu Ming hoped that it would be as boring to anyone else as it was to him, and that he wouldn’t have to talk about it at the auction.

“If someone asks us a very technical question, what should we do?” he questioned Xie Lian.

He could learn the file by heart but that still wouldn’t help him gain in-depth knowledge about finance.

“I grew up surrounded by businessmen and businesswomen. I should be able to invent an answer plausible enough. But it’s better to avoid talking to others as much as possible anyway,” Xie Lian replied, still not looking in his direction.

“Alright.”

Wu Ming hadn’t realized that Xie Lian had paid much attention to his parents’ work, but that would definitely come in handy.

They spent the afternoon mostly in silence, sometimes asking each other questions, but the atmosphere was awkward.

 Wu Ming couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fault. Would Xie Lian have been more comfortable with someone else playing Zhao Huiyan’s role?

Of course he would have. Anyone was better than himself. But Wu Ming couldn’t exactly ditch the mission and ask for someone else to go in his stead. Not that he would let Xie Lian go without him anyway.

He silently sighed. He would have to make himself the least upsetting possible.

Saying he was confused was an understatement when the day of the mission, in the early afternoon, Shi Qingxuan showed up in his room with makeup bags and holding clothes on hangers, hidden by covers, in his arms.

“Hum… What are you–?”

“I’m here to help with your disguise!” Shi Qingxuan explained joyfully, setting his stuff on the table. “Pei Ming refused my help – of course he would, pff – so he went to see the ‘disguise technician’”, he said with scorn, “but I’m the best makeup artist here so you’ll be in better hands!”

“Who’s Pei Ming?” Wu Ming asked, even more confused.

“Oh, right, sorry. Forget I said that, hahaha,” Shi Qingxuan laughed awkwardly. “I meant Ming Guang.”

So Pei Ming is Ming Guang’s real name? Interesting.

“Anyway…” Shi Qingxuan came closer and examined his face with a serious look.

He tried to grab Wu Ming’s chin, but Wu Ming stepped backward.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” he protested.

“What?” Shi Qingxuan put his hands on his hips dramatically. “I need to see your face, you know.”

“Yeah? Well, don’t touch me,” Wu Ming retorted.

“Don’t be dramatic. I’ll need to touch you anyway to do your makeup.”

Wu Ming looked suspiciously at the other man. He was sporting a perfectly made full face with pale green lipstick that somehow looked good and impeccable eyeliner forming clouds patterns. It was actually really pretty.

There was no doubt Shi Qingxuan knew how to do makeup, but was it enough to make him appear as a woman?

“You can always decide to join Pei– Ming Guang and have to suffer his company for the next few hours,” Shi Qingxuan said to convince him.

Wu Ming grimaced. “Whatever.”

“Great!” Shi Qingxuan exclaimed. “You have a good base – smooth skin and delicate features – and your hair is really long, so that’s great. But your jaw is too sharp, so I’ll work on that – contour and highlighter do miracles you know. And, well, you’re tall, but I can’t do much about that. We’ll see with the clothes,” he babbled joyously.

He grabbed a strand of his hair and Wu Ming pulled a face.

“Do you never take care of your hair?” Shi Qingxuan asked disapprovingly.

“I wash it.” Wu Ming shrugged.

“Ugh, men,” Shi Qingxuan said with a dramatic sigh.

Wu Ming raised his brow at him. Aren’t you a man?

“Good thing I took my hair care products with me!” He went to rummage through one of his bags and pulled out several colorful bottles with a triumphant smile.

“First you put on the hair oil, then you shampoo,” Shi Qingxuan explained to him while passing him the bottles one by one. “Once you are done, you use the conditioner. And after your hair is dry the leave-in conditioner. Then you detangle and apply the heat protection spray.”

Wu Ming gave him a dead stare. “No way. Why would I even need a ‘heat protection spray’ for? I don’t plan on burning my hair.”

“Look. I’m in charge here,” Shi Qingxuan retorted. “And if you want your hair to be soft like silk, you’ll do what I say.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Then go say hi to Pei Ming for me.”

“…”

Shi Qingxuan pushed him into the bathroom with a victorious smirk.

“Do it properly or I’ll know it!” he said with fake threat. “I’ll be back in an hour.” He closed the door and left before Wu Ming could answer.

Wu Ming looked down at all the bottles in his hands and swore silently.

What did he get himself into?

By the time he was done, he was seriously considering just cutting his hair short. He had never really cared about the state of his hair – not that he was in a position to care – but he had always liked it long. Now he was reconsidering it. It was simply too much work! He swore to never do all that shit again.

He ran his hand through his hair. Was there really a difference? If he was honest with himself, yes. But he would never admit it.

Wu Ming put on a simple black t-shirt and sweats pants, slumping on his bed while waiting for Shi Qingxuan to come back. He grabbed his phone and stared at the screen. The urge to send a message to Xie Lian was strong, but he had no idea what to say and he didn’t want to be a bother. He didn’t even know where he was or what he was doing at the moment.

He sighed and let the screen fade to black.

A knock on the door brought him out of his musings.

“I hope you’re decent!” Shi Qingxuan’s voice rang out.

Wu Ming didn’t bother giving him an answer and Shi Qingxuan didn’t wait for one anyway, walking into the room immediately.

“Ha!” He grabbed a strand of Wu Ming’s hair and looked at it closely. “That’s already much better. But you need to keep up the hair care routine for it to fully work. You have to do the same thing every time you wash your hair,” he explained with enthusiasm. “You can keep the products. It’s a gift!”

“No. Way.” Wu Ming took back his hair from Shi Qingxuan’s hands with one quick, aggressive pull.

“Don’t you want to look pretty?” Shi Qingxuan asked with doe eyes.

“My hair is fine. Quit it.” Wu Ming unlocked his phone and pretended to do something in the hope Shi Qingxuan would stop talking.

“You know, having nice hair is always a positive point in dates.”

“I said QUIT IT!”

Seriously, could Shi Qingxuan not read the room? And the idea of him going on dates was ridiculous anyway. He only ever loved one person. And that person made it clear that even faking doing anything romantic with him disgusted him.

Some of his thoughts must have appeared on his face because Shi Qingxuan finally backed off.

“Okay, okay, no need to get so defensive. Sorry.”

There was a heavy silence for a few seconds before Shi Qingxuan moved again.

He took the clothes out of their hangers and covers, laying them out on the bed.

“Ok. So, my idea was to go for a knee length dress. We don’t want to go for something too long because it would elongate your figure, but something too short would show your legs too much and also make you appear taller.”

Wu Ming eyed the clothes critically. They were beautiful but he was pretty sure they all would look ridiculous on him.

Shi Qingxuan grabbed a black dress and held it in front of Wu Ming. “Hum… No. It’s the same color as your hair. We need more contrast.”

He then took a white dress with embroidered dark blue patterns mimicking porcelain. It looked like a modern qipao, but it widened at the bottom and the slits on the side revealed a blue inner layer.

“Try it on,” Shi Qingxuan said.

Wu Ming didn’t have much choice but to submit himself to Shi Qingxuan’s whims, so he went to the bathroom to put on the dress.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. The dress was gorgeous but…

“So, how is it?” Shi Qingxuan asked from the other room.

With a sigh Wu Ming opened the door to let Shi Qingxuan see him.

The man immediately let out a pleased squeal. “Ooh. Come closer.” He circled all around him. “What do you think?”

Wu Ming looked away. “I don’t think it suits me very well.”

“Nonsense. It really does,” disagreed Shi Qingxuan. “But makeup will help too.”

Wu Ming raised a brow but ultimately didn’t say anything. He may look ridiculous right now, but making him look good would be impossible anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“Now for the shoes. I think you would look great in heals but for today we’ll have to go with flats. You’re already too tall.”

Shi Qingxuan gave Wu Ming a pair of patterned black shoes and asked him to sit on a chair so he could do his makeup.

The whole process was very unpleasant, having someone so close to him and touching his face like that. It was also extremely long. He didn’t know what could take so much time but every time he tried to open his mouth to ask Shi Qingxuan what he was doing, the other shut him up and told him not to move.

After a frankly insane amount of time, Shi Qingxuan finally handed him a mirror and told him that he was done.

Wu Ming had very mixed feelings upon seeing his reflection. Well, first of all, it didn’t look like him, which was disturbing. He couldn’t deny that Shi Qingxuan had done a really good job in making him look more feminine. It was almost a bit uncanny.

His lips were painted red, which he wasn’t a big fan of, but he liked his eye makeup, with faded black and blue eyeshadow and blue eyeliner. He had a fleeting thought that the same in red would look better on him.

“So?” Even though Shi Qingxuan was smiling confidently, Wu Ming could detect a bit of insecurity in his voice.

“It’s fine,” he answered.

“Ha! Didn’t I tell you?” Shi Qingxuan immediately returned to his normal bubbly self. “Now the hair and then we accessorize!”

Having his hair fiddled with was also extremely displeasing. Shi Qingxuan was pulling it, curling it and putting more products on it.

Seriously how much more things could the man possibly put on his hair?

While working, Shi Qingxuan tried to make conversation.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said.

“Depends on the question,” Wu Ming retorted.

“Dianxia and Shan Chu, what’s their relationship exactly?”

Wu Ming didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He wanted to know too, actually.

Xie Lian had said that they never interacted much but that didn’t make sense. Why would Jun Wu favor him so much? And why did he even care about Xie Lian in the first place?

In the end, he only shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“How come you don’t know?” Shi Qingxuan exclaimed. “I thought you guys were close.”

“Wha-what?” Wu Ming stammered.

“Aren’t you and Dianxia always together?”

“I– We– I mean…” They were together most of the time but that didn’t mean they were close! As much as he wanted it to be true, it simply wasn’t.

“It’s complicated,” Wu Ming said.

Seeing that it made Wu Ming gloomy, Shi Qingxuan dropped the subject.

After another half an hour during which Wu Ming thought about killing himself at least 10 times – he was so regretting volunteering – Shi Qingxuan handed him once again the mirror.

“How come it took you so long to do that?” Wu Ming asked criticizingly.

His hair was down with stylish waves at the end, giving the impression that it was layered. It was pretty but it looked like a very simple hairstyle.

“I’d like to see you try do the same!” Shi Qingxuan retorted. “I had to make sure that every strand was perfect and wouldn’t move through the evening.”

“Right…” Wu Ming said, not convinced.

They then moved on to the accessories: purse – “I’m not wearing that. It’s so impractical!” – bracelets – “Those actually look nice.” – and earrings – Shi Qingxuan pierced his ears despite his protests.

Now he looked at himself in the bathroom full-length mirror once again. He was forced to admit that he did look very good, and that Shi Qingxuan did an incredible job.

He also noted to himself that the silver jewelry looked really pretty and that he should wear some more if he ever had the occasion – or if he ever could afford it.

“You look so pretty!” Shi Qingxuan exclaimed. “Everyone will fall head over heels for you.” He winked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Wu Ming shut him up.

Shi Qingxuan was about to argue when his phone buzzed. Wu Ming grabbed it from the nightstand. He had a message from Xie Lian.

Dianxia (19:30): Are you ready? Ming Guang is looking for you.

Would Xie Lian fall head over heels too?

He immediately chastised himself for the thought and answered the text.

Me (19:31): I’m done. Where should I meet you?

Shi Qingxuan checked his own phone. “It’s getting late. Before I forgot, take this.” He handed him a garter with a knife attached to it. “It can always be useful.”

Wu Ming took it with a raised brow and reluctantly said, “Thanks for the help.”

“My pleasure,” Shi Qingxuan laughed joyously as he walked out of the room. “Don’t hesitate to tell me if you need any more help, and good luck!”

Wu Ming nodded and closed the door behind the man. He quickly put the garter on and went to meet Xie Lian and Pei Ming.

The two other men were waiting for him next to a black limo in the parking lot.

They both wore classic black suits.

White suits Xie Lian better, Wu Ming told himself as he approached. But that didn’t matter because the man was breathtaking. Even though his face didn’t quite look like his own and his long hair had been hidden behind a short wig, he was beautiful. He always was beautiful, no matter what he looked like, even though nothing could beat his natural beauty and his true face.

He didn’t pay much attention to Pei Ming. The obnoxious man wasn’t worth a second of his time. Especially not when Xie Lian’s eyes were on him.

Wu Ming couldn’t tell what Xie Lian’s insistent stare meant, but he hadn’t stopped looking at him since he arrived. His gaze was intense, as if he was trying to burn a hole through him, and Wu Ming felt the need to squirm. Did he think he looked bad?

Wu Ming looked down at his clothes self-consciously.

Before either of them could say a word, Pei Ming whistled loudly.

They both turned their heads in his direction immediately, sending him twin death stares.

“Looking hot,” Pei Ming distastefully said.

“Shut the fuck up!” Xie Lian immediately uncharacteristically shouted, his voice dripping with venom.

“Jeez, calm down! I–” Pei Ming started to answer but was interrupted by the chauffeur who stuck his head out of the car window.

“Excuse me sirs, but we need to go. Qi Ying said that the targets were taken down.”

“Right,” Pei Ming nodded and got into the limo.

Wu Ming glanced at Xie Lian before following Pei Ming in the car. Xie Lian seemed to be fuming, but Wu Ming couldn’t really understand why. Sure, what Pei Ming said was crass but it’s not like it was targeted at him.

Xie Lian got into the limo too and Pei Ming started explaining the situation.

“Some of my men already ambushed the targets and knocked them out as they were on their way to the auction. So, all we have to do is take their place and pretend that nothing is amiss.”

What will happen to them? Wu Ming wondered. Not that he really cared, but well, they were innocent casualties.

The journey was not very long but took place in a tense atmosphere. The whole mission was not off to a good start.

They arrived in front of a huge, fancy, hotel with an old European architecture style. Cars were queueing near the entrance and dozens of people dressed in lavish dresses and suits were climbing the stairs to get inside while chatting which each other with obnoxious laughs.

Wu Ming looked at them with disdain. He despised this kind of people. He never understood why so many people looked up to the upper class. They were living their whole life in hypocrisy, and he had always thought that, even though not through their fists, they were the most heartless and violent part of society.

Xie Lian’s eyes were also fixed on the crowd, his expression full of loathing.

The limo stopped in front of the entrance and they all got out of the car.

Wu Ming walked up the few stairs with apprehension. He felt like everyone was staring at him. Why were they staring at him?

With each passing second, he was telling himself more and more that this whole mission was a bad idea. It could only go wrong.

When they finally passed through the doors and the noise from the street outside died down, a woman in a black three-piece suit came up to them and asked their names. Wu Ming let the other two men do the talking. If he spoke, he would have to make his voice as high as possible without sounding weird and he didn’t want to try his luck so soon.

After checking her list, the woman let them in. They followed the flood of people further into the hotel to the reception hall.

The room was gigantic and dripping in riches. Crystal chandeliers decorated the ceiling, magnificent carpets covered the floor. On the walls were hung multiple art pieces but Wu Ming had no doubt that they were nothing compared to what was hidden in the exhibition rooms.

Multiple tables were displaying all sorts of appetizers and alcoholic cocktails, and additional servers carrying trays roamed around the hall.

They scanned the room quickly but there were no traces of Qi Rong or anyone looking like they could be Black Water.

The three of them gravitated toward a less populated corner, grabbing glasses of champagne on the way to blend in.

Wu Ming took a mouthful. He knew drinking was a terrible idea. They couldn’t afford to get drunk, or even the slightest bit tipsy. But he was curious. He had never had champagne before.

Pei Ming didn’t seem to have the same reservations though. He gulped his whole drink in one go and grabbed a second.

They observed the crowd in silence for a few minutes, but their peace was soon interrupted by a man who came their way.

“Nice reception, right?” he accosted them.

“Indeed,” Pei Ming answered with a pleasant smile. “Have you been to one of those auctions before?”

“No, this is my first time. I can’t wait to see the pieces in person.”

“It sure looks like it will be something.”

“I’m Liu Meng,” the man introduced himself.

“Chen Jian,” Pei Ming replied.

“Zhao Liwei,” Xie Lian said.

“And how is the měi nǚ¹ called?” the man asked before Xie Lian could present him.

Wu Ming tensed. Who the fuck did that guy think he was?

He sensed Xie Lian’s mood shifting, his body language immediately becoming defensive.

“That’s my wife,” he said, his voice barely containing his aggression, “Zhao Huiyan.”

“Your wife? You sure are lucky, hahaha.” His laugh grated Wu Ming’s ears. If it hadn’t been for the mission, he would have punched his smile out of his face already.

Xie Lian put his hand on Wu Ming’s hip and pulled him closer, pressing him against his own body, glaring at the man in a display of possessiveness.

Wu Ming flushed red, his skin breaking in goosebumps. He willed himself to not react visibly.

“I am,” Xie Lian said, his voice dropping lower than usual and dripping with venom.

Liu Meng writhed under his hateful gaze.

“Right. Well, if you’ll excuse me,” he mumbled before fleeing with his tail between his legs.

“I’m gonna go get drinks,” Xie Lian said, leaving too, the glass in his hand still full.

Wu Ming looked at him walking away. He was confused. Xie Lian was clearly upset, but he wasn’t sure about what. Did he do something wrong?

Pei Ming moved closer to him and Wu Ming gave him a death stare. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with his bullshit.

“Don’t look at me like that when I haven’t done anything,” Pei Ming laughed.

What was up with him too? Why was he acting all nice now?

“He is pretty defensive of you.” Pei Ming nodded in Xie Lian’s direction who was now at the other side of the room. “How do you two know each other?”

“None of your business,” Wu Ming answered aggressively and stepped aside, trying to put more distance between them.

He took a sip from his drink while keeping his eyes fixed on Xie Lian, wanting to put an end to the conversation. Pei Ming did not take the hint.

“You’re not fucking, are you?”

Wu Ming choked on his drink.

“Wha-what?! No! He’s not-! We’re not-! I could never-!” he stammered while simultaneously trying to catch his breath and not spill the rest of his champagne on his dress.

He babbled for a minute, his face red like coral before regaining his bearings.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“Just asking,” Pei Ming shrugged. “I just wanted to know if you were taken, but apparently you are,” he added with a wink.

“Stop saying that! Dianxia would never lower himself to be with someone like me,” Wu Ming felt the need to clarify. He didn’t want Pei Ming to think less of Xie Lian because of him.

“But you would?” the red pole asked with a knowing smirk.

Fuck. Wu Ming didn’t think before speaking. He hadn’t meant to say that.

He desperately racked his brain for an answer. He knew he should just say no, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

Thankfully, Pei Ming started speaking again before he had to answer.

“Well, it’s his loss anyway. You know, I’m not into guys, but you’re hot looking like this.”

Or not so thankfully after all…

“You’re disgusting,” Wu Ming spat back at him with revulsion.

He was so done with this. He decided to go join Xie Lian at the bar, but he looked for him, he couldn’t see him in the crowd anymore. He frowned, wondering where the man went.

A pained groan next to him startled him out of his thoughts.

He turned his head to see that Xie Lian had creeped up on Pei Ming and kicked him in the shin.

“Ouch! The fuck?” Pei Ming exclaimed.

“What the hell don’t you understand? Leave. Wu Ming. Alone.” Xie Lian grunted.

Pei Ming looked at Xie Lian appraisingly. “Let’s not start a fight. We shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves, remember? It doesn’t matter if some guys flirt with your Wu Ming.”

“Don’t tell me what to do! The mission doesn’t justify Wu Ming getting harassed! Especially not by you!”

“‘Harassed’. Don’t jump to using big words,” Pei Ming laughed. “It’s just a bit of flirting. It doesn’t harm anyone.”

“Dianxia, thank you but it’s fine,” Wu Ming tried to calm the situation. If they kept arguing people would start noticing them and it would be bad.

“It’s not fine!” Xie Lian retorted.

Pei Ming’s demeanor changed suddenly.

“Dianxia.” He was looking at behind Xie Lian, his voice and face serious.

“What?” Xie Lian asked, confused.

“Qi Rong is here.”

Chapter Text

8 years ago

Hong-er flopped down on a bench. He didn’t know where to go. He was exhausted and people were looking at him weirdly. He knew he should go home, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He was scared of what he would find inside the house.

He closed his eyes. Just for a moment. When he was asleep, he could pretend that none of his problems existed.

Hong-er woke up to a pebble hitting his face. He opened his eyes to see a teen giggling a few feet away.

The other couldn’t have been more than two or three years older than him, but he already had two visible piercings that Hong-er suspected he must have done himself with how awful they were. Similarly, he had uneven and randomly hued green highlights in his hair. The overall look was quite pathetic in his opinion.

Hong-er jumped to his feet and grabbed the pebble that had fallen to the floor. He threw it back with all his strength, hitting the other teen right between his eyes with a satisfying bonk.

He started walking in his direction menacingly, but the teen bolted before he could get too close.

Looking at the pebble abandoned on the sidewalk, Hong-er sighed. This was his sign to get home, he guessed.

He kicked the stone one last time, sending it flying into the gutter and watching it disappear in the sewer before turning around and starting his walk back.

When he arrived later in the evening in front of the house, he faltered.

Hong-er put his ear to the door. Not a sound came from inside.

When his father had sent him away this morning, his mother had been weaker than ever. He hadn’t been able to get rid of the unsettling dread that had gnawed at his mind ever since.

He opened the door tentatively. The lights were all out on the first floor. Hong-er had no idea where his father was. He was never this silent. Even when he passed out on the couch after too many beers, the TV was usually still on. And him leaving the house outside of his few hours of work was never a good sign.

The stairs creaked ominously under his feet – the only sound echoing in the dark house.

His mother’s room was the first on the right. The door was ajar. Hong-er didn’t want to open it. He didn’t want to step into the room. He knew what he would find behind the door, but as long as he didn’t get in the room, it wasn’t real.

Moonbeams were coming from the room. The shutters had probably been left open since this morning.

Hong-er looked at them for a while, unmoving. He looked at the drawings they created on the wooden floor, disrupted every few minutes when a car went past the house.

Some time passed like this. Hong-er wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. That his mother stirred in her bed? That his father came back? That something – anything – happened? Or that he simply fell back asleep and never woke up? He didn’t know. But he didn’t move for what could have been minutes or hours all the same.

Nothing happened. He didn’t really expect anything. He knew no one ever came for him. He was always on his own. He had to do things on his own.

He stood up from where he had been sitting on the floor and finally, finally, pushed the door open.

His mother was, as always, laying unmoving on her bed. The moonlight was reflecting on her skin, defining lights and shadows and underlining her hollow face.

He felt like he should say that she was beautiful with the silver light giving her an otherworldly shine and her ink black hair scattered under her head, but she wasn’t. She looked like a corpse. Probably because she was one now.

Hong-er tiptoed to her bed, as if making too much noise would wake her up and disturb her peaceful sleep. He carefully climbed the bed and slipped under the covers.

He nestled in her arms in a caricature of a hug. She was cold. He huddled closer to her body and delicately grabbed her hand in his, blowing air on it. He knew his effortstwo to warm her were vain, but he tried nonetheless, closing his eyes.

Hong-er had been roaming the streets aimlessly when he met him again.

His feet carried him to the same park as two years ago instinctively. It had become sort of his safe place. He frequently came back when he felt too agitated, when he couldn’t calm himself down otherwise. In the first months he used to stop by every chance he got in hopes of seeing his gege again.

He had never had a gege before. He had had two older brothers, before they left the house and never came back, but neither of them was anywhere close to a gege to him.

Hong-er’s gaze was drawn to the bench they had sat on, and he wondered what he should do now. He just lost his only reason to stick around. His only reason to stay alive.

“Hong-er!” A voice called him.

He knew that voice.

He turned around and there he was.

“It really is you!” Xie Lian gave him a beaming smile.

“Gege…” Hong-er whispered in disbelief.

“I almost didn’t recognize you! You grew up so much. You’ll be taller than me in no time,” Xie Lian laughed.

Hong-er didn’t answer anything. He had a hard time focusing on what was happening. None of it seemed real. Things hadn’t felt real these past few days, feeling like he was swimming through a dream, and was struggling to anchor himself to the present moment.

Xie Lian’s smile dropped and his face grew more serious.

“Are you ok?” he asked carefully.

Hong-er eyes watered and he started shaking. It was as if a dam broke. All the emotions he had repressed since his mother passed hit him at once. He felt like a couldn’t say a word, so he just shook his head hysterically.

He looked down, trying to hide his face behind his bangs. He was ashamed of his tears. Ashamed of appearing like a little child in front of his gege. Nothing good ever came from crying.

Arms embraced him in a tight hug. His face was pressed into a white dress shirt and tears ran down his cheeks with redoubled force.

“It’s ok,” Xie Lian said – his voice the embodiment of kindness. “Cry as much as you like. I’m here now.”

Hong-er couldn’t tell how long they stayed like that. At some point Xie Lian sat them both carefully on the grass, draping Hong-er over his lap. All the while, he didn’t let go of the hug, petting Hong-er’s hair with care and whispering words of reassurance in his ear.

Hong-er felt so infinitely small in his gege’s arms, but he felt safe.

When his sobs subsided, he looked up from where he had drenched Xie Lian’s shirt in tears and snot, and met Xie Lian’s gaze. The older teen was looking at him with a smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked as he kept stroking his back soothingly.

Still not trusting his voice completely, Hong-er shook his head.

“That’s alright, we don’t have to. I’m glad I met you again anyway,” Xie Lian said.

Seeing that Hong-er still felt uncomfortable and didn’t talk, Xie Lian decided to change the subject and filled the silence with his chatter.

“You grew your hair! Do you like it? Do you know how long you want it to be?” Xie Lian asked without really waiting for an answer.

Hong-er touched his hair by reflex. He hadn’t put that much thought into it. The past year had been… difficult, and cutting his hair always slipped his mind. As a result, his hair was now reaching his shoulders. He didn’t have much of an opinion about it, except that it was easier to hide his face behind his bangs now.

“I think you would look really nice with waist length hair,” Xie Lian said with excitement before his expression turned sheepish. “Or maybe that’s too much, haha. I don’t know. I always thought that really long hair was pretty, but I guess it can be a hassle.”

“Doesn’t gege wants to grow his hair?” Hong-er asked tentatively with a small voice.

He was still sprawled on Xie Lian’s lap but selfishly made no effort to move away.

“Ah, I don’t know. My parents never wanted me to when I was younger. I guess I stopped considering it as an option. And I do a lot of martial arts, so I guess it wouldn’t be the most convenient.”

“Martial arts?”

“En. I’ve been practicing wushu since I was a little kid. Actually, I have a competition this evening. Do you want to come and see me?”

Hong-er’s eyes shined with excitement but he hesitated. As much as he wanted to witness his gege’s strength and grace – as he had no doubt that he was the best wushu athlete ever – he was also reticent. He didn’t want to let go of his gege and mix with a crowd of strangers to watch him.

Sensing his hesitation, Xie Lian backtracked. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I’ll stay with you here.”

Hong-er shook his head vehemently at the proposal.

“Gege shouldn’t miss important things because of me! He should do what he likes.”

“Ah, but I like being with Hong-er better,” Xie Lian answered playfully.

Hong-er blushed and looked away. Even if Xie Lian just said that to be nice, he was still the first person who ever told him that he liked his company.

“I like being with gege too,” Hong-er shyly answered. “I’ll come see your competition.”

“Really? I’ll make sure to win for you,” Xie Lian said with a laugh while poking his cheek.

Hong-er blushed even more and Xie Lian laughed harder.

Xie Lian brought him to a noodle restaurant after Hong-er’s stomach gurgled embarrassingly.

The place wasn’t particularly fancy. Still, Hong-er felt out of place. He could sense people’s gazes weighing down on him, staring at his dirty clothes and the bandages around his head.

He couldn’t remember the last time he sat at a restaurant to eat. It must have been before his mother was so ill. Before his mother was…

He shook his head firmly and redirected his thoughts to the teen in front of him.

Xie Lian was talking about his two friends, Feng Xin and Mu Qing, that he would see at the competition. Hong-er couldn’t care less about them, but Xie Lian was recounting some anecdotes involving the three of them with cheerful enthusiasm, so Hong-er was happy to listen.

Thanks to Xie Lian’s efforts, the conversation flowed easily between the two of them even though Hong-er only answered very evasively the questions he was asked.

Hong-er couldn’t believe that what was happening was real. He had always had rotten luck, but he still found Xie Lian again. And Xie Lian actually wanted to spend time with him! He didn’t know what he had done to deserve this when not even three hours ago his life had felt meaningless.

A woman passed by their table and stared at Hong-er’s face particularly insistently.

Self-consciously, he adjusted the bandages covering his right eye.

Xie Lian tracked his movement with his gaze, a complicated look on his face.

“Say Hong-er,” he started hesitantly, “if there’s something bad happening at home, there are people that can help you. If you tell me, I can help you.”

Hong-er froze.

“Do you know what foster care is?” Xie Lian asked.

“I won’t go!” Hong-er exclaimed, panicking.

“There are people who would be very happy to take you in and provide you with a better life,” Xie Lian tried to reason. “It would be better for you.”

“I don’t want to go with strangers. I want to stay with gege. Can’t I?” he asked with a small, wavering voice.

He didn’t trust anyone else than his gege. He didn’t want to lose control of his life again by handing it to people who would only hurt him.

But he also knew that he was a bother to Xie Lian.

“Of course you can,” Xie Lian soothed him. “I won’t force you to do anything. And if you want to stick with me, that’s fine. But I think it would be better if you agreed to come with me to the child protective services.”

“I won’t!” Hong-er repeated.

Xie Lian sighed, giving up for now. “Okay.”

The next minutes were spent in a tense and awkward atmosphere, but Xie Lian did his best to bring back the conversation to less heavy and contentious subjects. And it worked for the most part, but the previous discussion had brought Hong-er back to reality. Staying with Xie Lian would only mean being a burden to him.

When the evening approached, Xie Lian brought him back to his apartment. He needed to grab his stuff before going to the competition and took Hong-er with him.

“Make yourself at home,” he said while opening the door.

He lived alone in a decently sized flat – that Hong-er thought was gigantic – in one of the better-off districts.

Xie Lian went to his room to retrieve… Hong-er wasn’t sure what, actually. He busied himself by looking around respectfully in the meantime.

The place wasn’t as clean and neat as he’d expected it to be. But it wasn’t filthy like his old house had been, dirtied by his father’s beer and grease stains and utter lack of care. No, it was untied and slightly messy in a way that made the place feel lived in. Some clothes were thrown haphazardly on the couch. The sink was full of dishes waiting to be washed. Some papers were spread out on the table.

“Ah, sorry for the mess,” Xie Lian said as he came back to the living room, a bundle of clothes in his hands, and saw Hong-er looking around. “I’m not the best at housekeeping,” he laughed.

“Gege’s home is really good,” Hong-er disagreed.

“Well, thank you.” Xie Lian smiled before adding, “You can take a shower if you’d like.”

Was it a way to tell him that he smelled? Or that he would be embarrassed to be seen with a dirty kid?

Ah, no matter. Hong-er wasn’t going to refuse the opportunity anyway, regardless of how ashamed that made him.

Xie Lian showed him the bathroom and handed him the bundle of clothes. “Here, these are the best I had. I hope they’ll fit you.”

Hong-er looked down at the cream-colored sweater on top of the pile and immediately started shaking his head. “I can’t take gege’s clothes!” he said vehemently.

“It’s fine, I have no use for them. They’re too small for me anyway.”

Xie Lian didn’t wait for an answer. He shoved the clothes in his arms and walked away.

“Take your time!” he said from the living room. “And don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything!”

Hong-er tried to shower as fast as he could, not wanting to bother Xie Lian more than necessary.

Ah, who was he kidding? He already took so much of Xie Lian’s time, and he kept on taking. Food, clothes, shower. Of course he was nothing but a bother.

He came out of the shower with a sigh.

Glancing at himself in the mirror, he caught flash of red and quickly looked away. He couldn’t stand the sight of that monstruous eye.

Hong-er grabbed his bandages and ran them under some water in the sink. He did his best to wash them, but it was a waste of time. Without real detergent, it would only make them slightly less dirty.

Defeated, he abandoned and started drying his hair with a towel instead. When he was done, he put the clothes on. They were nice, comfortable, without any holes and clean. A part of himself felt undeserving of them, like he was dirtying them just by wearing them. But the selfish part of him basked in the fluffiness of the sweater and its light smell of flowers. Its XieLian-ness.

He quickly secured his bandages back around his head and walked out of the bathroom.

Xie Lian was scrolling on his phone when Hong-er joined him in the living room. When he heard him enter, he immediately looked up.

Xie Lian let out a delighted squeal. “Ah, Hong-er is so cute!”

Hong-er blushed and looked at his feet, embarrassed.

“Your hair is messy. Do you need help tying it up?” Xie Lian asked.

When he had put back his bandages, Hong-er hadn’t paid attention to the way it had made his hair tangle.

“I’ll be behind you, so you can take your bandages off, I won’t look. I promise.”

Hong-er hesitated. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of having his face uncovered anywhere near Xie Lian, but he trusted him.

In the end, he nodded warily.

Xie Lian went to grab a hairbrush, then directed him to sit sideway on the couch and positioned himself behind him.

Hong-er let his bandages come loose with shaking fingers. Xie Lian didn’t comment on it and immediately started brushing his hair soothingly.

He spent so long just passing the brush in his locks, that Hong-er suspected that he either really liked playing with hair or was only doing so to comfort him.

Eventually, Xie Lian gathered strands of hair in his hands and started working on a ponytail. Again, he took longer than necessary.

Hong-er’s whole body felt very warm, sitting this close to his gege, with his hands stroking his head without the excuse of soothing his tears.

He felt himself dozing off.

When Xie Lian finished, he helped Hong-er put back on his bandages from behind – still without looking at his face.

Hong-er got up and looked at reflection in the mirror. Xie Lian had tied his hair in a small ponytail while still leaving bangs on the right side of his face to cover his bandages.

Hong-er smiled. It was perfect.

“Ah, it’s crooked, I’m sorry!” Xie Lian exclaimed when he saw his work from the front. “I’ve never tied anyone’s hair before,” he admitted sheepishly before proposing “I can try again!”

“No!” Hong-er refused, shaking his head vehemently.

An ugly part of him felt very pleased to be the only one who ever had the privilege of having his hair styled by gege.

“I like it!” he said.

“Ah, if you’re sure…” Xie Lian hesitated.

“I am!”

“Well, if you’re ready, we should go.”

Hong-er suddenly remembered that they had to leave. He really didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay here with his gege alone forever.

Selfish!

He tried to not let his disappointment show on his face and simply nodded in agreement.

They took a taxi to the sports hall where the competition was held.

When they arrived, Xie Lian introduced him to his friends Feng Xin and Mu Qing. Feng Xin seemed surprised to see a random kid accompanying Xie Lian but was cordial – even though it was obvious he had no idea how to interact with a younger teen – while Mu Qing simply scowled at him and said nothing.

Too soon, Xie Lian had to leave to get ready. Mu Qing went with him – he was apparently also participating in the competition. And Feng Xin was tasked to stay with Hong-er and look after him.

The atmosphere was mostly awkward. Feng Xin directed him to their seats in the third row and they sat in silence waiting for the beginning of the event.

Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait too long for the opening ‘ceremony’ during which they presented all the athletes.

Twenty boys were introduced, but Hong-er couldn’t have cared less about their names. He only had eyes for Xie Lian. When it was his turn, Hong-er screamed for him at the top of his lungs, startling Feng Xin with his sudden change in behavior. Xie Lian laughed when he heard him and waved at him.

“What the fuck,” Feng Xin muttered next to him.

Xie Lian left again and soon the first matches began. Hong-er paid little attention to what was happening. He only halfheartedly watched when Mu Qing appeared.

Hong-er had to admit that he wasn’t too bad as he won all of his matches. But that thought was soon forgotten when Xie Lian walked in.

As the bell rang, the crowd fell silent, anticipation thick in the air. Xie Lian stood poised in the center of the mat, facing his opponent with confidence and concentration.

With a deep breath, he settled into his stance, his feet barely skimming the surface of the floor, as though gravity itself dared not bind him. His eyes, calm and unyielding, tracked every twitch of his opponent’s muscles. Then, with a flicker of motion that seemed to come from nowhere, he darted forward.

His fist shot out, a whip of controlled force, but it was the elegance in the motion that mesmerized the audience. His movements were a dance—each strike a brushstroke on an invisible canvas, painting a story of precision and grace. Hong-er was engrossed by it.

The opponent, startled, tried to react, but Xie Lian was already gone, pivoting gracefully to the side, his body rotating with the effortless precision of a dancer mid-turn. In one swift motion, his leg arced through the air, landing softly yet decisively against his opponent’s chest. The impact, though not heavy, carried the weight of his mastery. It sent his opponent stumbling backward, breathless, his feet barely finding purchase on the ground.

Time seemed to slow as Xie Lian completed his final flourish. Under a sequence of powerful hits, his opponent fell to the ground.

Xie Lian stepped back with the serene composure. His opponent, realizing the fight was lost, bowed his head, acknowledging the defeat.

The referee stepped forward, raising Xie Lian’s arm high. The crowd erupted in applause to the way Xie Lian won in less than a minute. Xie Lian’s eyes found Hong-er in the crowd, giving him a beaming smile.

Hong-er’s chest burned with warmth. Among all the crowd, he was the one Xie Lian sought.

Too quickly, his bubble was popped as Xie Lian left and another boy took his place.

The rest of the competition went mostly the same. Xie Lian didn’t lose a single match, and he outdid himself every time. The crowd was going wild and Hong-er could only share their enthusiasm.

Despite his previous doubts, he didn’t regret coming here in the slightest. On the contrary, he felt very blessed to be allowed to witness Xie Lian’s grace and strength.

During the demi finals, Xie Lian and Mu Qing found themselves facing each other.

Hong-er leaned over his chair, moving closer to get a better look.

Mu Qing was frowning and looked slightly pissed, but Xie Lian was smiling happily at him.

Hong-er hmphed internally. How ungrateful can he be? Facing Xie Lian is an honor! Everyone would love to be in his place!

They both settled into their stances and when the bell rang, the blows immediately started flying everywhere. Watching the two fight, everyone held their breath. This match was assuredly at a whole other level.

It lasted way longer than the previous ones, the opponents almost equally matched. Mu Qing excelled with his swift, lightning-fast strikes and impeccable defense. His movements were sharp, calculated, and dangerously precise. On the other side, Xie Lian embodied elegance and fluidity. His style was unpredictable—graceful yet powerful, each action having a meaning incomprehensible to the audience, but linked together they created a whole dance leading to a certain victory.

Mu Qing charged with a flurry of kicks and punches, each one faster than the last. But Xie Lian’s defense was unshakable. He moved like a leaf in the wind, never where Mu Qing expected him to be. It was as if he was reading Mu Qing’s every thought, countering each attack with perfect timing and precision.

As the match wore on, it became clear to the spectators: Mu Qing was fighting harder, but Xie Lian was fighting smarter. With each passing moment, Xie Lian's movements seemed to flow more naturally, his strikes becoming more decisive, more inevitable.

Then, Xie Lian saw his opening. As Mu Qing committed to a high kick, Xie Lian sidestepped and swept his leg low, catching Mu Qing off balance. The kick was clean, and Mu Qing’s footing faltered. In the blink of an eye, Xie Lian followed up with a graceful spin, his elbow striking Mu Qing’s shoulder with just enough force to send him tumbling to the mat.

The crowd erupted into cheers, but Xie Lian remained composed, stepping back and giving Mu Qing the space to rise. Breathing heavily, knew the match was over. He stood, a hint of frustration in his eyes.

As the referee raised Xie Lian’s hand in victory, Mu Qing gave him a stiff bow, acknowledging the result, though the bitterness of defeat lingered.

They both left the mat to the cheers of the crowd.

There was one match left before Xie Lian’s final. Mu Qing joined Hong-er and Feng Xin in the bleachers halfway through it. He plopped down on the available sit next to Hong-er.

Hong-er gave him a dirty look before refocusing on the match. It wasn’t as interesting without Xie Lian, but it was still more interesting than Mu Qing.

Feng Xin exchanged a few words with him, congratulating him for his ranking before silence fell on the group again.

When the match finally ended and it was at last time for the final, Hong-er stood up with the rest of the crowd and yelled Xie Lian’s name. Mu Qing gave him a weird look. It was the first time he had heard the kid’s voice.

“You’re distracting him, you know,” he told him.

Hong-er froze then slowly turned his head to look at him.

“You’re dragging him down,” Mu Qing added.

“That’s no true!” Hong-er protested. Even though, deep down, he knew it was true, he didn’t want to hear it from that guy.

“He can’t take care of a kid full time. You should just go to the social services already.”

“Hey Mu Qing, stop! What the fuck?” Feng Xin tried interfering.

But Mu Qing ignored him. “If you want what’s good for him, you’ll leave him alone,” he insisted.

“Shut up!” Hong-er yelled, raising his fists.

People around them had started staring at them.

Feng Xin physically placed himself between the two, swapping seats with Hong-er to separate them.

“What the hell Mu Qing? Don’t talk to a kid like that!” he said in a very loud whisper.

“Because you’re so good with talking to kids now?” Mu Qing retorted in an equally loud voice.

“You–!”

“Please tone it down!” A woman behind them said irritably. Multiple people in the audience around them nodded or hummed in agreement.

They both stopped talking, embarrassed.

Hong-er’s gaze was glued to Xie Lian on the mat but his excitement had died down. He knew Mu Qing was right. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was a reality that Xie Lian was better off without him.

The result of the match was a surprise to no one. Xie Lian gracefully won, and everyone cheered for him.

At the end of the closing ceremony, people started to get up and leave. Hong-er walked away from Feng Xin and Mu Qing and slipped into the crowd.

There was an alley near the entrance to the sports hall. Hong-er sat there, his back against the wall, holding his knees in his arms. He didn't know what to do. Where to go. He was alone once again.

Hong-er stayed there for a few minutes before he heard a bang. He jumped and looked at his right to see that the same teen with green hair than a few days ago had aggressively kicked a metallic trash can.

Hong-er tensed. He stood up, on his guard.

“It’s you again, bandage boy!” the green teen said with a mocking laugh. “I saw you in the audience. Why did they even let in an ugly freak like you?”

Hong-er balled his hands into fists and walked toward the guy, ready to punch him in the face. But as he got closer, a group of ten kids between 14 and 17 entered the alley. They all sported piercings and poorly died hair similar to Qi Rong's.

Shit.

Things didn’t look good, but it could have been worse. Hong-er was pretty sure none of them actually knew how to fight. He knew their type well. All talk, no–

One of them pulled out a knife.

Now he started to panic a little. If he had to fight alone against one teen with a knife, he would probably be able to get away without too many scratches. But ten?

He needed to leave, and fast. But the group of boys were blocking the only exit. He was desperately trying to find a way out, but he quickly had to recognize that there was no getting away.

As two other kids pulled blades out of their pockets too, Hong-er resolved himself to fight.

He easily got rid of the first three kids who jumped him. They were unarmed and their blows sloppy. But that angered the others who promptly started using their blades against him.

Hong-er dodged the first knife swipe, countering with a swift kick that caught one of the attackers in the gut. The boy stumbled back, winded, but there were too many. A second boy lunged from the side, and Hong-er barely blocked the blade, the metal grazing his forearm, a sharp sting igniting pain.

“Get him!” yelled the teen with green hair – who Hong-er assumed was their leader.

Hong-er retaliated with a flurry of punches, connecting with faces, but for every blow he landed, two more boys pushed in closer. He was strong, but the odds were stacked against him.

Hong-er felt a hard blow connecting to the back of his neck. With a gasp he fell to his knees.

The teens immediately closed in on him.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

He had to get up, but his leg was bleeding from where he had been lightly stabbed previously and with the impact of the fall, he felt a shooting pain propagate to his whole body. He tried to straighten up, without success.

Just as Hong-er was starting to lose hope, a voice boomed from the street. “Hey! What are you doing?”

It was Xie Lian.

Upon hearing him, all the kids dispersed and ran away. All but one.

Xie Lian passed the teen with green hair and stopped in front of Hong-er.

The alley was dimly light, so only as he got close did Xie Lian realize who was the boy bleeding on the floor.

He let out an alarmed cry. “Hong-er! What happened?! I couldn’t find you anywhere!”

“I’m sorry,” was all Hong-er said in a small voice.

Xie Lian turned back toward the teen with green hair and started yelling at him.

“Qi Rong! What did you do?!”

“Nothing!” the kid – Qi Rong. Did Xie Lian know him? – defended himself.

“You could have killed him! What is wrong with you?!”

Hong-er had never seen Xie Lian angry before, and it made him smile through the pain to have someone getting angry on his behalf.

“I was just teaching him a lesson. He’s fine.” Qi Rong at least had the decency to look chastised, but it was clear that he didn’t think he did anything wrong.

“FINE?! You call that FINE?!” Xie Lian grabbed Qi Rong by the wrist, restraining himself to hit him directly in the face.

“I–”

“No, you shut up!” Xie Lian interrupted him. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and started dialing a number.

He let Qi Rong go and crouched down next to Hong-er. “I’m gonna call an ambulance, okay? You’re gonna be alright, don’t worry,” he reassured him.

The call connected and Xie Lian started explaining the situation to the operator. Qi Rong tried to flee behind Xie Lian’s back, but Xie Lian ran after him, leaving Hong-er alone in the alley.

Hong-er painfully rose to his feet. He needed to leave. Now. Xie Lian would come back in a minute and then force him to go to the hospital. But Hong-er couldn’t. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that if he went, then the nurses would realize that he didn’t have a family – not even a name – and consequently call the authorities and land him in a foster home.

So, he had to run. And he did.

As he turned around the corner, he heard Xie Lian’s panicked voice calling him. “Hong-er!”

He felt horrible to leave Xie Lian worrying like this, and every fiber of his being screamed at him to go back, but he kept limping away.

Chapter Text

Now

They all followed Pei Ming’s gaze. One man was standing out from the crowd with his face full of piercings and his neon green hair. Qi Rong.

People around him gave him weird looks but he didn’t seem to notice or care, too busy stuffing his face with the appetizers from the buffet.

Upon seeing him, Xie Lian pulled a face. This was a normal enough reaction to Qi Rong, but Wu Ming could also detect a bit of… shock(?) in his eyes.

Wu Ming looked back at Qi Rong with a frown, trying to figure out what could have warranted that reaction, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary for the green haired man.

They all stared at him in tense silence for a few minutes before Qi Rong grabbed one last champagne glass and started walking away, seemingly having had enough of the food.

“Follow him,” Pei Ming ordered. “I’ll say here in case anything happens at the art show.”

Qi Rong walked through a door and temporarily disappeared from view.

Xie Lian nodded and quickly walked through the crowd, Wu Ming in his steps.

As they moved away from Pei Ming and closer to the door that Qi Rong had entered, Wu Ming looked at Xie Lian. He was sporting a troubled expression. Could it still be about what had happened earlier?

“Is everything alright?” he asked tentatively.

“Mn. I just didn’t realize I knew Qi Rong,” Xie Lian said in a low voice.

“What do you mean?” Wu Ming was confused.

He was of course aware that Xie Lian knew Qi Rong in some capacity since the only time he saw the two interact, Xie Lian had called him by his name, and that was way before that trash became famous. But how come Xie Lian hadn’t realized it before?

Xie Lian, thinking that Wu Ming had asked him about how he knew Qi Rong, answered, “… He’s my cousin.”

“What?!” Wu Ming exclaimed louder than he intended. To say he was surprised was an understatement. How could Xie Lian be related to someone like Qi Rong? The two couldn’t be more different.

Xie Lian gave him a sharp look and Wu Ming sheepishly looked around to make sure that he hadn’t attracted anyone’s attention with his cry.

“How come you didn’t know?” he asked at a lower volume.

“I never paid much attention to the Green Lanterns,” Xie Lian explained with a frown. “I saw Qi Rong a few times, but he always wore that ugly green mask.”

It was true that the green trash had taken to covering his face with an emerald green demon mask. He thought that it made him look scarier, but in truth he only looked like a kid on Halloween.

“I thought the name was a coincidence,” Xie Lian continued. “Who would be stupid enough to use their real name?”

As he said it, they both grimaced. Yeah, Qi Rong definitely was.

“Well, what about the mission then?” Wu Ming enquired. “Should we keep going? If he knows us both…”

Xie Lian raised a brow. “Both?”

Wu Ming cleared his throat. “Yeah, I… ran into him quite a few times before…”

Xie Lian raised his brow more but gave up when he realized that Wu Ming didn’t intend on developing.

“Well, we don’t have a choice. I don’t think Ming Guang – or Jun Wu – would take well to us leaving now,” he said with a wry smile.

Wu Ming grimaced. Counting on Qi Rong’s stupidity to not be recognized was definitely a better idea than angering Jun Wu.

“And we could get important information. I’m not gonna pass on it,” Xie Lian added.

They entered another room with less people when Wu Ming suddenly realized something.

“How come they never showed us any picture of Qi Rong beforehand? I’m sure they must have some. They really aren’t hard to get. I thought it was because they assumed we already knew his face, but still… it’s weird.”

Xie Lian hummed in agreement. “It is. And Jun Wu had to know Qi Rong was my cousin, so why would he send me to go? What is he trying to achieve?”

Qi Rong passed a second door, this one guarded by two women in black suits.

They stopped to assess the situation. There were only a dozen people in the room. Along the opposite wall from the door Qi Rong disappeared through, was set a long table with champagne glasses stacked in dubious balance.

They exchange a knowing look. They had the same idea.

A couple was in the middle of an animated discussion in front of the table. The woman was moving her arms in aggressive wide arcs.

Wu Ming took off one of his rings and expertly threw it in sync with the woman’s movements, right into a glass at the base of the pyramid. It exploded upon the impact, destroying the fragile balance. The woman flinched, looking between her hand and the glasses with confusion and fear.

Everybody in the room turned in the direction of the noise to see all the glasses slowly tumbling down and crashing to the floor in a mess of glass shards.

The two women guarding the door immediately moved in front of the guests to put them out of reach of the disaster.

People started yelling and running out of the room, while Xie Lian and Wu Ming silently slipped through the previously guarded door, following Qi Rong.

They arrived in an empty corridor. The door closed behind them, fully cutting off the panicked sounds coming from the other side.

Six new doors faced them, all closed. Xie Lian walked to the first one and put his ear to the door to see if anyone was inside, when an angry yell resounded from the third door.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? We told you to be discreet and wait for our signal, not run around!” an unknown masculine voice said.

“You think you can give me orders! You fuckers, do you know who I am?!” a shrill voice retorted. Definitely Qi Rong.

A young third voice, more subdued and more feminine, interrupted the two. “Hum, I think we lost them.”

Lost who? Wu Ming wondered. Was someone else here?

He exchanged a look with Xie Lian. They couldn’t be talking about them, right?

“What?!” the first man exclaimed. There was some moving around, then a silence. “Fuck,” he said.

After a pause, he ordered. “You, go back.”

“Ah! You dare talk to me like that, trash!” Qi Rong complained.

“Please Mister Green Ghost,” the girl said. “Black Water said that you should wait for her. She won’t be happy when she learns that you came here.”

She? There was no way the girl was talking about Black Water, right? Was Black Water a woman?!

Black Water was a very mysterious character. They had always been elusive. No one knew their name or even what they looked like. But it had been assumed by everyone that they were a man. Apparently, it wasn’t true.

“Tss. I’ll tell that fucker how much of disrespectful little shits you are!” Qi Rong spat.

Xie Lian and Wu Ming heard footsteps coming closer and ducked through the closest door just as Qi Rong was coming out of the room.

They could hear Qi Rong mumbling and swearing to himself from the other side as they took in their surroundings. They were in another corridor. The door they had just crossed had a digital lock on the handle. They couldn’t go back. They didn’t have a choice but to follow the corridor.

Thankfully, after a few twists and turns, they started hearing the brouhaha of the crowd of guests. They were getting closer to going back to the reception hall.

But just as they thought they were finally out, hurried steps resounded behind them.

Wu Ming and Xie Lian looked at each other in panic.

There was only one section of corridor left for them to run to go back to mix with the crowd, but it was a straight line. If they started running, Qi Rong would see them as soon as he turned around the last corner.

They silently started running anyway, but it quickly became apparent that it wouldn’t work. They were getting closer, but not close enough.

There was no other exit, nowhere to hide. They couldn’t get away.

They needed an excuse for when Qi Rong would see the two of them alone in a corridor reserved for the staff.

They needed an excuse so Qi Rong wouldn’t look too closely at their faces and wouldn’t recognize them.

They only had a few seconds! They needed–

Xie Lian grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him against a wall. Wu Ming opened his mouth to ask him what he was doing when two things happened at the same time.

Qi Rong turned around the corner, his eyes falling on them.

And Xie Lian’s lips pressed against his.

Wu Ming’s brain short-circuited. For a few endless seconds, he couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

Then, Xie Lian grabbed his face in his hands and pressed harder, hiding Qi Rong from view, and Wu Ming forgot all about their surroundings.

He let out a surprised “Mn!”, opening his mouth in the process. It was a bad idea. Immediately, Xie Lian’s tongue rushed inside, exploring, tasting, claiming, and Wu Ming panicked.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t understand what Xie Lian was doing. He didn’t know what Xie Lian was expecting of him. It felt like a sacrilege to feel those chapped lips pressing against his, that velvety tongue licking the inside of his mouth.

Xie Lian’s hands cupped his face, fingers tangling in his hair as he forced him to tilt his head, deepening the kiss with a fervor that sent a shiver down his spine. His legs buckled, making him slide against the wall a little.

Wu Ming melted into him, surrendering to the heat of the kiss as their mouths moved in an urgent dance of passion.

Their heights were now leveled, and Xie Lian took advantage it, pushing deeper into his mouth, his tongue twirling against his, possessive yet tender, rough yet perfect.

Hesitantly Wu Ming wrapped his arms around Xie Lian’s shoulders for support.

Their bodies pressed together, and he could feel the heat of him through the fabric that separated them. All reason thrown in the wind, Wu Ming pulled the other man closer, needing more, craving more.

He lost himself in the taste of him, the warmth of his body, the way he held him as if he were everything he’d ever wanted. It was a kiss that ignited his senses, a rush of passion that filled him with fire.

As their tongues intertwined, Xie Lian deepened the kiss, exploring with a boldness that took them both by surprise, tracing the contours of his mouth.

A moan escaped Wu Ming’s lips, muffled by the intensity of kiss. “Ah!”

Embarrassed, he immediately tried to close his mouth, but Xie Lian prevented him, sliding his tongue across his teeth, daring him to bite him.

Wu Ming tried to say something, but it was muffled beyond recognition. Xie Lian hungrily drank every sound he made.

So, Wu Ming finally gave in and started kissing back fervently, this kiss the only thing keeping him from falling apart. The world outside had long since ceased to exist; there was only him, only this.

Their bodies pressed together, each kiss growing more fervent, more demanding. Wu Ming could feel Xie Lian’s heartbeat against his chest, racing in tandem with his own. The rhythm was intoxicating, a wild pulse that drove him crazy.

Suddenly, they broke apart, breathless and gasping for air, their breaths mingling as they stared into each other’s eyes, the intensity between them palpable. Xie Lian’s lips were swollen, his breathing ragged, and Wu Ming knew he was no different.

Xie Lian stared at him for a few seconds before his gaze turned darker and he turned around, his body radiating tension. Bad tension. In less than a second the mood had shifted completely.

“We should go back now,” he said in a clipped voice.

“Wha–” Wu Ming tried to catch his breath.

“Qi Rong is gone.”

Qi Rong? Disoriented, Wu Ming looked around, suddenly remembering that they were running away from that green trash. The corridor was empty. Wu Ming hadn’t seen or heard him leave. They were too busy– 

Oh.

That’s what Xie Lian had been doing.

He made up an excuse for why they would have isolated themselves in an empty corridor, all the while hiding their faces from view.

Of course. Of course, he wouldn’t just kiss him because he wanted to. Of course, he only did so because he had no other choice.

Wu Ming felt like the ground had been pulled from underneath his feet. He shouldn’t have kissed him back. He shouldn’t have forced himself on Xie Lian.

Deep shamed pooling in his guts, Wu Ming looked down at his feet. He couldn’t bear to watch Xie Lian’s form anymore. He didn’t move, staying slumped against the wall. He could hear Xie Lian straightening his clothes, the ruffle of fabric echoing loudly between them in the empty corridor.

There was a pause and Wu Ming felt that Xie Lian wanted to say something, but in the end he kept silent.

Wu Ming wanted to apologize, desperately beg for Xie Lian’s forgiveness, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth either.

Xie Lian started walking away and Wu Ming considered just staying there. Maybe if he was immobile enough, he would merge with the wall and disappear forever into the stone.

But he knew he couldn’t do that. So, he gathered all his strength and picked himself up.

He silently followed the other man, trying to blend with the shadows, making himself as unnoticeable as possible. He couldn’t undo what happened, so the least he could do was to not impose on Xie Lian further.

Wu Ming cast a glance at Xie Lian. Half his face was hidden but Wu Ming could sense his anger, could see that his mouth was set in a grimace.

Wu Ming felt sick. He looked away again. He couldn’t bear to see the disgust written in Xie Lian’s face.

How did they arrive to this? It wasn’t particularly surprising to Wu Ming. He knew that he was repulsive. But still, he hadn’t been expecting it. And it hurt.

They passed through a door and a cacophony of noise suddenly assaulted his ears. They were back in the main reception room.

They walked back to where they had left Pei Ming in an excruciatingly uneasy atmosphere.

They found him in a secluded corner, standing in front of an ink wash painting¹ portraying a serene landscape with mountains rising in the background, their peaks shrouded in mist, and in the foreground, a tranquil river flowing gently, reflecting the soft hues of the sky at dawn.

But the sight that greeted Xie Lian and Wu Ming wasn’t the red pole keeping watch as he said he would, but Pei Ming in the middle of indecently groping a woman. She was gripping his tie, and her mouth was dangerously close to his.

Wu Ming grimaced in disgust. But then Pei Ming started kissing the woman and Wu Ming was reminded of what just happened. He could feel Xie Lian’s hands on his body all over again, Xie Lian’s lips on his–  He shook his head and looked away. He shouldn’t be thinking about it.

He glanced at the man next to him.

Xie Lian had paused upon seeing the scene, but as Pei Ming deepened the kiss, he started walking toward him in a fury.

“Chen Jian,” Xie Lian snapped in a thundering voice.

Immediately, Pei Ming looked up. He moved away a little from the woman but still kept a hand on her waist.

“Do you mind?” Xie Lian asked the woman with fake courtesy, aggressivity layered in his tone, while looking daggers at her.

Her gaze swayed between the obviously pissed man and Pei Ming for a minute, trying to gauge the situation. In the end, she decided that her fling with Pei Ming wasn’t worth the trouble, and she left without a word.

Pei Ming watched her walk away, a disappointed look on his face.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Xie Lian spat. “You’re supposed to be on the lookout, but instead you’re flirting with some women while we risk ourselves?!”

“I was on the lookout,” Pei Ming defended himself. “I was interrogating the guests,” he added with a grin.

Xie Lian's eyes blazed with a mix of anger and disbelief. “Interrogating? Is that what you call it?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “You need to take this seriously! You’re going to get us all killed! Or worse!”

Honestly, Wu Ming couldn’t figure out how Pei Ming had made it to be so high in the hierarchy when he was behaving like this. Or, as Xie Lian said, how he was even still alive.

Pei Ming shrugged, an infuriatingly casual smile still on his lips. “What can I say? Sometimes the best information comes from the right kind of... distraction.” He adjusted his collar nonchalantly, as if they weren’t in the middle of a heated argument.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Xie Lian's heart raced as he stared at Pei Ming, his fists clenched at his sides. Anger surged through him, but beneath that, a creeping discomfort twisted in his gut—an unease that had nothing to do with Pei Ming’s antics.

“Distraction?” Xie Lian shot back, his voice rising again. “You call this a distraction? You’re putting us all at risk with this kind of behavior!”

Pei Ming raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. “You’re too uptight, dianxia. It’s not like anyone got hurt.” His casual demeanor was infuriating.

Wu Ming took it like a blow. He stood beside Xie Lian, caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He could still feel the ghost of Xie Lian’s lips against his, the warmth of their moment together, but the memory was tainted with guilt. He glanced sideways at Xie Lian, who was trembling with a mix of rage and… something else.

“You’re so focused on... this,” Xie Lian gestured wildly at the empty space where the woman had been, “that you’ve completely lost sight of the real danger! You think this is a game?”

“But I wasn’t the only one who got distracted,” Pei Ming retorted with a smirk.

Wu Ming’s heart dropped. Xie Lian flinched and physically took a step back. The accusation hung in the air like a thunderstorm, electrifying the space between the three of them.

“What— I didn’t—” he tried to defend himself, but he had no idea what to say.

Wu Ming looked down at himself then at Xie Lian. Was it so obvious? Could everyone see what they had done?

A part of him felt excited at the idea. He wanted everyone to know that he was Xie Lian’s. But the rest of him was drowning in guilt. Xie Lian clearly hated it! How dared he have this kind of thoughts when it had made the man recoil in disgust!

Wu Ming opened his mouth to defend Xie Lian, say that he didn’t do anything wrong, that it was his own fault, when a woman with an earpiece walked up to them.

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

Xie Lian discreetly threw a death stare at Pei Ming before answering the woman. “Ah, yes, don’t worry. We were just having a little divergence of opinion…” He looked around before adding, “about the painting.”

The woman raised a brow, clearly not buying it. “That’s an interesting piece indeed. I’m curious to hear your thoughts on the artist's use of the boneless technique² in rendering the foliage. How do you think this approach impacts the overall texture and emotional expression of the work?”

Pei Ming and Xie Lian shared a panicked glance. The woman was clearly trying to expose them. They were supposed to be art collectors, but neither of them knew the first thing about paintings.

Before they could give a generic answer that would be an obvious attempt to dodge the question, Wu Ming spoke up.

“What’s there to think about? It’s quite typical for ink wash paintings of the Qing Dynasty to use that technique. But it’s popular for a reason.”

He tried to modulate his voice as best as he could to speak in higher tones without sounding too weird.

“It allows for layered washes without outlining, resulting in a softer, more spontaneous portrayal of foliage. It creates nuanced gradations of ink tones that mimic the natural irregularities of leaves and branches. For example, the willow tree on the left appears to sway gently, conveying movement and life. This fluidity contrasts with the more structured mountains in the background, directing the viewer's eye and enhancing the composition's balance.

Moreover, mastery of this technique requires precise brush control and a deep understanding of ink viscosity, enabling a range of textures—from delicate wisps to bolder strokes defining the riverbank. And the emotional resonance of this approach aligns with Daoist principles of spontaneity and naturalness, inviting viewers to engage on a sensory level and evoking serenity and harmony.

So overall it clearly enriches the painting's texture and deepens its philosophical undertones, reflecting the interconnectedness of nature.”

When Wu Ming finished his tirade, a silence fell on the group. Xie Lian and Pei Ming were looking at him with wide eyes, shock written all over their features. The only thing missing for it to be a picture book illustration of astonishment was their mouths hanging open.

Even the woman seemed stunned by his answer and took a few seconds to find a reply.

Wu Ming shifted on his feet self-consciously. What is really that surprising that he was knowledgeable in art?

“I can see you are quite the expert,” she finally said. “I’m sorry madam, but I don’t place you. You are?”

“Zhao Huiyan,” he answered in a neutral tone. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to act offended that she didn’t recognize him.

“Oh, right. I heard of your extensive art collection. I can see that it’s in good hands.”

“Of course,” Wu Ming replied with a fake haughty tone.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your viewing then. I hope you’ll find some pieces to your liking.”

The woman bowed slightly before walking away.

As he watched her leave, Wu Ming let out the breath he had been holding. This was too close.

He turned around toward Xie Lian and Pei Ming to see that they were still giving him weird looks.

Wu Ming refrained the urge to squirm. He didn’t care about what Pei Ming thought in the slightest, but he didn’t know what to make of the look on Xie Lian’s face.

“What was that?” Pei Ming finally spoke up after a few never-ending seconds.

“Hum… I just… like art?” Wu Ming said, not really sure how to answer.

When he was younger, he had found an old book about art history abandoned in a dumpster. It had been surprisingly clean and in good condition, so he had taken it with him, originally with the intent of re-selling it. But he had taken a look at it in his boredom and had found himself unexpectedly fascinated by its content.

Since then, he had acquired quite an interest in art.

He wasn’t feeling like relating that sob story though, so he changed the subject.

“Anyway, she clearly suspected us. Are we compromised?” he asked instead.

“I don’t know,” Pei Ming answered honestly. “It doesn’t make sense. Why would they just let us roam around if they knew?”

“We overheard some people saying that they were keeping their eyes on some people but “lost them” when we went after Qi Rong,” Xie Lian informed Pei Ming. “It seems likely that they were talking about us.”

Pei Ming frowned. “That’s a problem. It means they knew from the very beginning. But how?”

“Should we leave?” Wu Ming asked.

“No.” Pei Ming shook his head. “They wouldn’t let us anyway, so we might as well keep on with the mission.”

Xie Lian looked unhappy with his decision but didn’t say anything. Wu Ming didn’t like it either. It was reckless, but there wasn’t much they could do either way.

He discreetly looked around, and as expected he spotted multiple people with earpieces looking in their direction.

He sighed. Qi Rong had disappeared and now they had to start their mission all over again but with the increased difficulty of being closely observed. Great.

Chapter Text

There wasn’t much they could do while being monitored.

Wu Ming checked his watch. They had been there for two hours already and still Qi Rong hadn’t reappeared.

He could feel multiple pairs of eyes on him. But none of them belonged to Xie Lian. The man had been avoiding him like the plague.

He sighed as Pei Ming walked up to him, two drinks in hands.

Wu Ming had initially planned to just ignore the guy, but when he saw that he only wore a neutral expression - if a little troubled - instead of the flirty grin he had been sporting since the beginning of the evening, Wu Ming grabbed the drink and gulped it down. He needed it. The mission be damned.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“What?” Wu Ming asked, only half listening to Pei Ming, his gaze fixed on Xie Lian talking to some rich asshole at the other side of the room.

“Something happened, right? I thought it was a good thing, but clearly I was wrong. So, what's up?”

Wu Ming looked at him suspiciously. “Why are you being nice all of the sudden?”

Pei Ming ignored the comment and kept going. “If it's because the sex was bad, I can help. If you need some advice–”

Wu Ming gave him a death stare. “Of course that's all you can think about.”

“I'm kidding,” Pei Ming half-apologized with a laugh. “For real though, what's wrong? If you fucked up, you should apologize instead of sulking in a corner. And if he fucked up, you should still go talk to him. It’s always better to clarify those things instead of letting bad feelings fester.”

Wu Ming looked at him like he had grown a second head.

“What? It's true,” Pei Ming said. “Don't ruin your relationship because of... whatever happened.”

“Why do you care? You hate us.”

“I don't,” Pei Ming denied. “Or, okay, maybe I did. But not anymore.”

Wu Ming raised his brow. “Why?” he asked again cautiously. 

“You know, they call me the god of love,” Pei Ming said with a grin. 

“Ugh.” Wu Ming pulled a face. How pathetic could that man be? “I'm positive no one ever called you that.”

“Ah, now you’re the one being mean,” Pei Ming laughed. “You can ask Zang Yuxi. She–”

Wu Ming assumed Zang Yuxi was the woman from earlier and he was definitely not interested in hearing what she had to say about Pei Ming.

“This conversation is over,” he cut him off and started walking away.

With nothing else to do, he decided to take a look around and view the art that was exhibited. Multiple rooms had been opened to the public, sporting countless paintings, sculptures, porcelains, and all kinds of artifacts and antiquities.

While always keeping an eye out for Qi Rong or anyone suspicious, Wu Ming allowed himself to study the pieces around. It had been a while since he had last touched a sketch book – since he had drawn dozens of portraits of Xie Lian in a nigh of madness a few days after they were reunited – and he longed to grab a pencil now and capture some of the elegant forms and intricated designs he saw all around.

As he wandered through the gallery, the soft murmur of voices and the faint sound of footsteps on polished floors provided a soothing background, but his mind was far from at ease.

Each new room offered something different—majestic landscapes, delicate carvings, ancient relics that spoke of civilizations long past. He traced the lines of a bronze statue with his eyes, noting the graceful curve of its figure, the mastery in the craftsmanship.

Still, his vigilance never wavered. He glanced occasionally over his shoulder, scanning the crowd for any sign of trouble. A faint ripple of unease crawled up his spine. Without turning his head too much, he scanned the edges of the room, the corners where the light didn't fully reach. Someone was watching him. He could feel it. But it was different from all the other gazes that had been following him for a while, though he couldn’t tell why.

Wu Ming shifted his posture slightly, appearing casual as he moved to the next display – a porcelain vase with delicate blue brushstrokes.

But his senses were sharp. In the reflection of the glass case in front of him, he finally caught a glimpse of the figure lurking in the distance. A woman dressed in all black, looking a bit out of place with an almost goth aesthetic. But there was something about the person, a shadow of recognition that made Wu Ming’s eyes narrow slightly. Who was she? Did he ever see her before?

Not letting his suspicion show, Wu Ming moved toward the exit of the room, all the while maintaining his nonchalant demeanor. The auction should begin soon. He needed to join Xie Lian and Pei Ming.

Wu Ming found the other two when the staff started leading everyone to the auction room. They were standing next to each other in a tense silence. Wu Ming could only hope it was because they were nervous about the mission and not because Pei Ming said something he shouldn’t have.

God, Wu Ming hoped Pei Ming hadn’t say anything to Xie Lian at all.

Not wanting to make him any more uncomfortable, Wu Ming went to stand next to Pei Ming. Xie Lian glanced his way but quickly looked away, a frown on his face.

As they waited to enter the auction room, the crowd around them became denser. Dozens and dozens of people in black suits and with earpieces were entering the room alongside the guests.

Even to protect priceless antiquities, this level of security seemed excessive.

No—they weren’t here for that.

Pei Ming, Xie Lian and Wu Ming exchanged a look. They had to leave. Now. If they walked inside that room, they would never be able to get out.

Wu Ming took a steadying breath, keeping his face calm despite the alarm that was beginning to rise in his chest.

Xie Lian looked perfectly relaxed, but Wu Ming knew his telltales. While to the untrained eye, he was peacefully waiting for the people before them to enter the auction room so he could follow, Wu Ming could see that his posture was tense, as if waiting for something to go wrong.

“We need to leave discreetly,” Pei Ming whispered under his breath, careful to avoid drawing any attention. “Now.”

Xie Lian gave a small grunt of acknowledgment, his gaze flickering across the room to assess the situation. Wu Ming shifted his weight but didn’t speak, his eyes already darting toward the far end of the room where the exit sign was glowing faintly.

They started to move, slow and casual, blending with the throngs of people all around them. Wu Ming kept his pace steady, but his senses were on high alert, scanning for any unusual movements. The people in black suits and earpieces were now also positioning themselves more deliberately around the exits, tightening their hold on the place.

“Stay close,” Xie Lian murmured to Wu Ming gravely, with a hint of worry in his tone.

Wu Ming hoped that he wasn’t worrying about him weighing them down, but about his safety. Ah, but he knew it was just wishful thinking.

He fell into step beside him while Pei Ming took the lead, keeping just a little distance ahead, but still within sight.

As they neared the edge of the crowd, Wu Ming felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. There—two men had started trailing them. They were looking around as if supervising the guests, but their movements were too practiced, too deliberate.

“They’re onto us,” Wu Ming muttered. “We need to split up.”

Pei Ming slowed his steps, just enough to let them catch up to him. “I’ll lead them away. You two, keep moving.”

Before they could protest, Pei Ming had already turned down a side corridor, his tall stature vanishing through the sea of guests. The men trailing them hesitated for a second, then split up—one following Pei Ming, the other lingering too close for comfort.

“We’ll meet him later,” Xie Lian whispered, his voice low but steady. “Let’s go.”

Wu Ming gritted his teeth but nodded. Splitting up was a bad idea. It appeared clearer and clearer that they would need to fight, and they were already outnumbered as they were.

Xie Lian and Wu Ming slipped into the crowd, heading in the opposite direction from where Pei Ming had gone, winding their way through the flow of people. It was harder now. Eyes seemed to be on them at every turn, and the presence of security only intensified.

Every time Wu Ming dared a glance behind them, the man was still there, closing in slowly, but never quite catching up. He was good. Too good. They weren’t going to lose him like this.

Up ahead, Wu Ming spotted a cluster of staff members leading a group of guests toward a private hallway. Without thinking, he tugged Xie Lian in that direction, blending into the group just as they passed by. Xie Lian tensed, but kept his head low, playing along as if they were meant to be there.

For a few moments, it worked. They moved unnoticed through the hallway, the voices of staff droning on about the event, their pursuer temporarily blocked by the stream of bodies. But it wouldn’t last long.

“Stairs,” Xie Lian murmured, nodding toward a narrow stairwell just ahead.

Wu Ming didn’t hesitate. They slipped out of the group and into the stairwell, moving quickly but quietly down the steps, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting. It was darker here, quieter, the sounds of the auction above them growing distant.

For a brief moment, Wu Ming thought they might have lost their trail.

Then, a door creaked above them. Footsteps, measured and slow, echoed down the stairwell.

“He’s still on us,” Wu Ming whispered.

Xie Lian’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t answer anything but hurried Wu Ming down to the next landing, finding themselves in an empty service corridor, the lights flickering faintly overhead.

 Wu Ming looked around, scanning for any possible exit. The air was cold here, the sterile smell of cleaning supplies lingering in the air.

“There,” Xie Lian pointed to a side door labeled ‘Loading Dock’.

Without another word, they dashed toward it, but right as they were about to open it, voices resounded from the other side.

They promptly changed their trajectory, and opened the next closest door, leading to stairs once again.

This time, the stairs were only leading up, so they didn’t have a choice but to draw away from the exit. The man was still on their trail, they couldn’t turn back.

They decided against stopping at the second floor, thinking that it would be where their pursuer would look first, and so they kept climbing a few more floors.

When they finally stopped their ascension and pushed the door to the fifth-floor corridor, they found themselves surrounded by what seemed to be unguarded, empty offices.

“Should we try to look for intel?” Wu Ming asked.

They couldn’t hear anyone around. Maybe this time they had finally lost the man in black.

It seemed too good to be true.

Xie Lian hesitated, visibly torn between seizing the opportunity and securing their escape.

In the end, his desire for answers won, and he guiltily nodded. “Ten minutes and then we leave.”

They went further into the corridor. Most offices were empty, nothing indicating that they had ever been used.

The few that had traces of human activity were locked, but the doors were surprisingly easy to open, Wu Ming swiftly lock picking them with a pin. It had been a valuable skill to him when he was younger.

But as they went through the files, they couldn’t find anything of interest. There were only documents about the hotel, nothing mentioning Nether Water or Black Water. It wasn’t particularly surprising, but it was still disappointing.

After a few minutes, Xie Lian anxiously checked his watch and told Wu Ming, “It’s been too long already. Let’s go.”

Wu Ming nodded. As good as an opportunity as this was, Xie Lian’s safety was more important.

They hastily put the files back where they found them when suddenly, a door slammed a few meters away.

Both froze in their tracks.

Between one instant and the next, they moved. The office having a window overlooking the corridor, they had to crouch down to hide themselves from view. Xie Lian slowly closed the door without making any noise.

Heels clicked on the floor at a rapid pace, followed by disorganized muffled footsteps.

“I’m still failing to understand why your incompetence should be any of my business,” a voice said threateningly.

“Incompetence?” another shrill voice answered. Qi Rong. “It’s not my fault that little bitch couldn’t keep her legs cl–”

The clicking of heels suddenly stopped. They were right outside the door.

“I’d advise you to be more careful of the words you use,” the woman interrupted Qi Rong, her tone darkening even more.

Qi Rong stayed silent for a moment.

Xie Lian and Wu Ming couldn’t be sure what was happening outside, as there were no more noises, but one thing was certain: Qi Rong was afraid of that woman. Which meant she must be Black Water.

“Don’t misunderstand,” the woman finally started speaking again. “We aren’t allies and you are no one to make demands of me. The only reason you are here is because I can use you to achieve my goal.”

Wu Ming glanced at Xie Lian, only to see the man already looking at him. They nodded at each other. This was exactly what they were looking for.

They pressed their ears closer to the wall.

“Well–well, doesn’t it concern you?” Qi Rong insisted with bravado.

“It affects me,” Black Water corrected, “badly. Which is why you better fix it. And fast.”

“Pah, I wasn’t asking for help!” Qi Rong lied between his teeth. “I’m gonna make that whore regret to ever have had a pu–” He stopped before correcting himself, “–that traitor to ever be born.”

Wait. Are they talking about Pei Ming’s informant? Wu Ming thought. What was her name again? Quan Ji? Xuan Ji?

Black Water hummed noncommittally. She started moving again, walking away. Qi Rong stumbled after her.

“Go back to the eastern docks. Bai Wuxiang will soon send some of his men. I need you to meet them upfront,” her voice started fading as she drew away.

“Ah, that old geezer thinks he can compare to me! I–” Qi Rong’s voice was lost to the distance too.

Once making sure that they were really gone and that no one else was around, Xie Lian opened the office door and they sneaked out.

“That they’re working together isn’t a surprise at this point. But that she seems to know Jun Wu’s next moves?” Xie Lian thought out loud as they were walking back toward the stairs.

“She must have a spy in Wuyong,” Wu Ming said.

“Hmm, but it can’t only be that. I don’t believe someone as powerful as Black Water would be reckless enough to start off a possible war with Wuyong, when even with Qi Rong they would have normally been doomed to lose. No, she must have been sure that Jun Wu wouldn’t counterattack.”

Wu Ming took a second to understand what he meant. “Wait, you mean that Jun Wu could fight off the Green Lanterns and Nether Water if he wanted to? So that’s not the reason he didn’t do anything?”

“No. Something else is going on, something Jun Wu isn’t telling. And Black Water knows about it,” Xie Lian answered gravely.

“And if we discover what it is, maybe we’ll have a way to take him down,” Wu Ming concluded.

They were a few steps away from the stairs. Wu Ming could almost reach out and grab the handle.

“Well, isn’t that interesting?” Black Water’s voice suddenly came from behind them.

Before they could react, the door opened in front of them, five people in black suits coming out and blocking their way.

Wu Ming turned around to see the goth girl from before standing next to a confused Qi Rong.

Black Water looked at them appraisingly, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. “You can stop running around now. But tell me, where is the other one?”

With everything that had happened, Wu Ming had almost forgotten Pei Ming. If Black Water didn’t know where he was, did that mean that he had managed to escape?

Xie Lian didn’t grant Black Water with an answer but instead took a swing at her.

Black Water dodged effortlessly, her movements as smooth as silk. She barely flinched as she smiled coldly at him. Xie Lian, however, didn’t waste time exchanging words; he charged again, aiming to keep her occupied.

The guards immediately went to help Black Water and tried to grab Xie Lian.

“Go!” Xie Lian shouted, as he dodged, his voice tense. “Get out of here!” he told Wu Ming.

Wu Ming heart raced as he saw Xie Lian throwing himself into the fight. He knew the odds stacked against them. Five heavily armed guards surrounded them, and Black Water herself was powerful enough to give them trouble even if they went both against her.

“I’m not leaving you!” Wu Ming yelled back.

Xie Lian didn’t turn, but his voice was a sharp command, edged with desperation. “There’s no time! You have to—”

Wu Ming interrupted him by hurling himself into the fray, tackling one of the guards to the ground before they could close in on Xie Lian. The guard struggled beneath him, but Wu Ming fought with everything he had, throwing punch after punch.

He grabbed the knife that Shi Qingxuan had given him and swinged it at the closest man. For some reason, their opponents hadn’t drawn their weapons yet, but Wu Ming wasn’t going to do the same thing.

“You idiot!” Xie Lian cursed, blocking a kick from another guard and barely dodging a strike from Black Water, whose calm demeanor remained unshaken. “You’re going to get us both—”

Before he could finish, Black Water moved with sudden, blinding speed. She sidestepped his next attack and struck him hard across the chest. Xie Lian stumbled backward, his breath knocked out of him, but he stayed on his feet. Wu Ming, still wrestling with the guard, saw this and felt a cold pit forming in his stomach.

They were outmatched. Completely.

One of the other guards closed in on Wu Ming, grabbing him by the shoulder and throwing him off the man he’d pinned down. Wu Ming hit the ground hard, gasping as pain shot up his back. He tried to scramble up, his hand desperately trying to grab the knife that had fallen on the floor, but another guard had already pinned him, forcing his arms behind him.

The guard took out his own blade and pressed it threateningly against Wu Ming’s throat.

“WU MING!” Xie Lian shouted, but before he could rush to his side, Black Water raised her hand, and with a quick flick of her wrist, she sent a powerful strike toward Xie Lian. Having been distracted, he had no time to dodge. The impact hit him hard, knocking him off his feet and onto the cold ground.

Xie Lian coughed, trying to push himself up, but Black Water’s boot pressed down hard on his back, pinning him to the ground. Immediately, two guards came to help her, grabbing his arms and legs.

He strained against them, but it was useless. Wu Ming, powerless against the guard holding him down, could only watch helplessly.

“DIANXIA!”

He would have gladly let his throat be sliced open if it had meant helping Xie Lian, but given the situation, his death would only be useless.

Xie Lian gritted his teeth, trying to struggle again, but the weight of her boot and the force holding his limbs down were too much. He looked toward Wu Ming, catching his gaze, and for a brief moment, regret flashed between them.

“Have you had enough yet?” Black Water asked, tilting her head as she glanced between them.

She moved away from Xie Lian, letting another man take her place, and walked closer to Wu Ming.

“Don’t touch him!” Xie Lian yelled.

“Wait,” Qi Rong finally spoke up with an astonished look on his face. “Cousin?”

Black Water, who had initially looked annoyed at Qi Rong’s interruption, now turned to him with confusion. “What?”

“Cousin Xie Lian! You’re alive?!” Qi Rong exclaimed.

Xie Lian looked like he had bitten into a raw lemon, his face contorting in a grimace.

“It is you hahaha,” Qi Rong laughed hysterically, but it wasn’t a laugh of happiness from a heartfelt reunion. No—it was cruel and scornful. “It really is you! And you’re the Wuyong spy? Haha, look how far you fell!”

“Bai Wuxiang’s new toy is your cousin?” Black Water asked him, somewhat incredulous.

It appeared she hadn’t anticipated this turn of event.

“Yeah, but everyone thought that fucker died. That you killed him, actually,” Qi Rong explained. But it seemed to only confuse Black Water even more.

“Why would I have killed him?”

“Cause you killed his parents?” It was Qi Rong’s turn to be bewildered.

“His parents? Xie Lian…” She racked her brains. “Oh! The Xie family. Yes, I remember. Their murders were attributed to us a few years ago.”

“Attributed?” Qi Rong asked.

“It was Bai Wuxiang,” Xie Lian finally joined the conversation. He didn’t feel particularly inclined to chitchat with them while he was tackled to the ground and a guard was still holding a blade to Wu Ming’s throat, but if there was the slightest chance that explaining the situation would get them out of there alive, he would take it.

Black Water hummed. “I had suspected it.”

She made a hand movement in direction of the three men who were still holding Xie Lian down, ordering them to put him back on his feet.

Wu Ming tensed as she approached him, readying himself to move if she tried anything, his throat be damned.

“So what,” she asked, derision dripping from her voice, “you and your lap dog,” she glanced at Wu Ming, “thought that you could infiltrate Wuyong and take Bai Wuxiang down on your own?”

Xie Lian gritted his teeth but refused to answer her provocations. He knew it was reckless. He had known from the beginning.

Black Water looked between Xie Lian and Wu Ming, seemingly considering something.

“I’ll let you go at one condition,” she finally said.

Xie Lian’s head perked up, but Wu Ming got a sinking feeling.

“What?!” Qi Rong exclaimed, moving his gaze from Xie Lian to Black Water. “You’re just gonna let my damned cousin and his girlfriend go?!”

In addition to the feeling of wanting to shut Qi Rong up with an aimed punch to his face that had been growing the whole evening, Wu Ming now wanted to inch a little bit closer to the blade at his neck so that he would die and not have to see Xie Lian tense up with an expression of repulsion on his face.

Why did everyone have to rub salt into the wound?!

“We’re not–!” Xie Lian tried to explain despite the situation, but Qi Rong cut him off.

“Ha! Don’t lie! I saw you put your tongue down her throat, hahaha! And you seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit, you lech!”

His greasy laugh echoed in the corridor while Xie Lian seemed to be floundering for a reply, his face going from one expression to the next in too fast a succession for Wu Ming to hope to decipher any of them.

Black Water pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Qi Rong. Interrupt me one more time and it’s your tongue that I’ll cut off.”

Qi Rong’s laugh subsided as the man grimaced.

Black Water leveled him with her stare for a few more seconds before turning back to Xie Lian.

“If you get a document from Shui Shi for me, I’ll let you go. And I’ll tell you what Bai Wuxiang is doing in the dark.”

Upon hearing her words, Xie Lian immediately straightened up, his face growing serious. “You want us to work as spies for you?”

“Would you rather die at my hand?”

Xie Lian gritted his teeth. He knew that Black Water’s proposition was too good to be true, but it was the only option they had. “What document?”

“A report. Of all of Wuyong’s smuggling routes.”

“…”

“How are we even supposed to get it?” Wu Ming finally spoke up. “It sounds like suicide.”

Before Black Water could answer, Qi Rong exclaimed “What the fuck! What the fuck, you’re not a girl?!”

Wu Ming blinked. Oh, right. He had forgotten to modulate his voice.

Having had enough, Black Water punched Qi Rong in the face with strength matching her annoyance, sending him stumbling backward.

“Your choice,” she told Wu Ming. “You either die now or maybe die later.”

The man holding him drew the blade closer to his neck, pressing lightly into his throat. Wu Ming gritted his teeth as a line of red appeared on his skin, a single drop of blood slowly trickling down.

“Stop!” Xie Lian yelled. “We’ll do it!”

“Great.” Black Water made a hand movement, signaling the guards to let them go. “You have a week.” She handed Xie Lian a piece of paper. “If you don’t come at this address on Monday at 10pm, I’ll consider you came back on your word and I’ll kill you myself if you’re not already dead.”

“We will be here,” Xie Lian asserted.

They left the hotel soon after.

“So, are we working for Black Water now?” Wu Ming asked as soon as they stepped out of the building, breathing in the night’s fresh air.

“Mn.” Xie Lian was frowning, lost in thought.

“Isn’t it suspicious? If she already has spies that tell her every one of Jun Wu’s moves, why would she need us?” Wu Ming insisted. He didn’t like that one bit.

“I know,” Xie Lian sighed. “But there isn’t much to do except be careful and don’t let our guard down.”

He looked at Wu Ming with a complicated expression. Or, more precisely, at Wu Ming’s neck.

Instinctively, Wu Ming brought a hand to his throat, hiding the small cut from view. He felt the need to apologize, but before he could say anything, Xie Lian started ripping the bottom of his shirt.

“What–?”

Xie Lian handed him the fabric. “Bandage it.”

It really wasn’t necessary; the wound was barely bleeding. But Wu Ming still accepted the cloth with gratitude. He had a feeling that Xie Lian wouldn’t have let him refuse it anyway.

“Next time, when I tell you to leave, you follow my order,” Xie Lian said, his voice tight with anger and something else.

“I–”

A voice interrupted them. “Ha! You’re alive!”

They turned around in sync to see Pei Ming coming out from a back alley.

“I thought you were gone for good,” he said.

“Wouldn’t you have liked that?” Xie Lian mumbled.

“I didn’t hear that,” Pei Ming said with a smile. “Anyway, a car is waiting for us over there. Let’s go back.”

They both nodded and followed him.

He looked mostly unscathed, his muffled hair and missing tie the only indication that he had ran for his life. He glanced at them, his eyes falling on Wu Ming’s neck.

“Are you wounded?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Wu Ming answered curtly.

“Jeez, alright.”

They turned around a corner and arrived at another alley where a black car was parked, a bored looking man waiting in the driver’s seat.

They got in the car, and immediately, the conductor started driving away.

“You took your time to get out,” Pei Ming said, giving them a curious look. “Did something happen?”

Wu Ming started panicking a bit, not knowing how to answer that question without sounding suspicious. He opened and closed his mouth–

“We saw Black Water,” Xie Lian told the red pole.

Chapter Text

Wu Ming’s head snapped toward Xie Lian.

“Really?” Pei Ming perked up too.

“Black Water was talking to Qi Rong,” Xie Lian explained. “It appears your Xuan Ji isn’t as reliable as you thought.”

Pei Ming sighed but didn’t say anything.

“…”

It isn’t particularly surprising, but he could at least pretend to care! Wu Ming thought. He would never understand those casual hook-ups with people you couldn’t care less about.

“Did they talk about anything else?” Pei Ming finally asked.

“No. They left to look for us.”

“Mn. Well, that was a complete disaster.” Pei Ming shook his head in dismay.

Well, that’s on you for having shitty informants, Wu Ming thought bitterly. You could have gotten us all killed, but of course you won’t recognized that it’s your fault.

“Hopefully Shan Chu won’t be too mad about it.”

Pei Ming didn’t sound too bothered, but Wu Ming doubted it would go well.

“The Mountain Master wants to see you,” Ling Wen announced when they entered her office.

They just had time to change back into their normal clothes after arriving at the compound before going to see the Vanguard to report.

“Alright, we–” Pei Ming started but Ling Wen interrupted him.

“Not you. Only Dianxia.”

Wu Ming tensed up. This definitely wasn’t good. He glanced at Xie Lian to see that the man was sporting a scowl.

Clearing her throat, Ling Wen tried to cut through the tense atmosphere–even Pei Ming was frowning. “You can go report to him now.”

With a nod, Xie Lian swiftly started walking away, Wu Ming immediately falling into steps behind him.

Xie Lian looked over his shoulder and glared at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m not leaving you alone with Jun Wu,” he firmly responded.

“Don’t involve yourself more than you need to be.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with Jun Wu,” Wu Ming stubbornly reiterated.

Xie Lian let out an exasperated sigh. Yet, even though Wu Ming couldn’t see his face or what expression he was making, he swore he saw the tension easing a bit out of his shoulders.

They didn’t exchange any more words until they reached Jun Wu’s office. The door was closed and Xie Lian’s hand hovered above the handle.

Wu Ming found it unusual for him to be that hesitant. But before he could ask Xie Lian about it, the man took a deep breath and knocked at the door.

“Enter.”

Jun Wu’s voice was calm and didn’t let anything show through.

Xie Lian pushed the door open, revealing the shape of a man sitting on his leather office chair, his arms crossed, a serene smile on his face.

“Xianle. How are you? I’m sure you must be tired.”

His smile fell immediately when he saw Wu Ming walking in the room after Xie Lian, but he quickly put it back in place.

“He really likes to trail along, doesn’t he?” Jun Wu told Xie Lian humorously. “But I’m afraid I need to talk to you alone.”

Before Wu Ming could reiterate his resolve to not leave Xie Lian, the man spoke up himself.

“You can talk in front of Wu Ming,” he said decisively. “Even if he wasn’t here, I would repeat everything to him afterwards anyway.”

“Aren’t you two joined at the hip,” Jun Wu snickered.

“I would say it is important to have subordinates you can trust fully,” Xie Lian retorted.

Wu Ming internally preened. Dianxia trusted him! Dianxia trusted him! He smirked at Jun Wu.

“Fine,” the Mountain Master conceded.

He stood up and walked around his desk to get closer to Xie Lian, entering his personal space.

Wu Ming lost his smile immediately. What the fuck was he doing?

“So, I reiterate my question. How are you Xianle?” Jun Wu grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him closer, his other hand placing itself on his cheek. A sweet smile on his lips, he completely ignored Wu Ming’s presence in the room.

Wu Ming immediately bristled. How dared he put his disgusting hands on Xie Lian’s body!

“As you said, tired,” Xie Lian answered in a tight voice. His whole body language was screaming that he wanted to leave but he didn’t try to pull away.

“Mn. I’ve heard that the mission wasn’t much of a success. But you saw Black Water, right? Can you describe him to me?” Jun Wu moved his head closer, and Xie Lian turned his face slightly away while doing his best to ignore Wu Ming’s burning stare.

But Wu Ming wasn’t going to just stand here and do nothing! He quickly approached them, furious, with full intention to punch Jun Wu away from Xie Lian. He would break his fingers one by one for having the gall to crassly touch was didn’t belong to him. He would make him pay for his sin!

“D–!”

But when Xie Lian finally looked at him, it was to pin him in place with a menacing stare.

Wu Ming immediately stopped in his tracks, faltering under the threatening gaze. He didn’t understand. He knew that Jun Wu was powerful, that going directly against him was suicidal, but it didn’t matter. Not right now. Not when Xie Lian was distressed. Not when Xie Lian was in danger.

And yet, Xie Lian wasn’t doing anything and Wu Ming faltered. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. He needed to find a way to get Xie Lian away from Jun Wu that wasn’t starting a fist fight with the man. Wu Ming had no doubt that Jun Wu had at least one weapon on him, and getting shot would only worsen Xie Lian’s situation.

Faced with Wu Ming’s helplessness, it was Jun Wu’s turn to smirk at him – gloating over his own all-powerfulness – the only attention he gave Wu Ming before focusing back on Xie Lian.

Xie Lian swallowed his saliva and Jun Wu followed the movement of his throat with his eyes.

“She is a woman actually,” Xie Lian answered the previous question. “Tall – taller than me, long dark hair, blue eyes, dressed in full black clothes.”

Jun Wu raised his eyebrow.

“And you didn’t take a picture?”

“No. We didn’t have time. We were running.” Xie Lian shook his head a bit more aggressively than necessary – an effort to dislodge Jun Wu’s hand from his face.

“Tsk, tsk. It’s fine, you’re still new to this,” Jun Wu answered, moving his hand from Xie Lian’s cheek to his hair, playing idly with it. “I’ll forgive you this time.”

“Thank you,” Xie Lian gritted out between clenched teeth.

“Hm. I guess it’s also Ming Guang’s responsibility. Ah, but enough about that.” He let go of Xie Lian’s wrist and started walking in slow circles around him.

“You know, your little friend is quite the explorer.”

Wu Ming was confused for a second, thinking that Jun Wu was talking about him.

“He crawled out of your room when I was passing by today.”

Crawled? Wait…

“I didn’t know you had brought a snake here.”

Xie Lian froze completely at those words.

“Had I known I would have made accommodations sooner,” Jun Wu said lightly.

“Where is he now?” Xie Lian asked, a slight quaver to his voice.

“I had an enclosure brought to lock him in. He tried to bite me after all,” Jun Wu laughed.

Good snake! Wu Ming had the mind to think in the middle of his panic.

“He is agitated when I’m not around. I’ll keep him in my room and make sure he doesn’t escape again,” Xie Lian suggested, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“Of course,” Jun Wu easily agreed, grabbing lightly Xie Lian’s waist before letting him go all together. “You should go check on him now. I’ll leave you to rest.”

Xie Lian nodded and immediately started backing away. “Thank you. Good night.”

“Good night,” Jun Wu said with a kind, paternal, smile, as if nothing had happened. It unnerved Wu Ming, making his skin crawl.

They wasted no time leaving the office and closing the door behind them.

Xie Lian walked away as fast as he could – so fast that Wu Ming almost had to break into a run to keep up with him.

Once they were a few corridors away, Xie Lian finally slowed down, most of the tension leaving his body. But he still wouldn’t look at Wu Ming.

“Dianxia…” Wu Ming tentatively called.

Xie Lian looked so defeated, and Wu Ming couldn’t take it. He just couldn’t. He was well about to turn back on his feet and go peel Jun Wu’s skin inch by inch. Turn his body to bloody mush. Feel the satisfying crunch of his bones breaking under his fists–

“Don’t,” Xie Lian snapped.

“Dianxia, I…” he tried again, moving to stand in front of him while keeping his distances.

 Xie Lian looked at him reluctantly, holding his gaze defiantly for a few seconds before giving up.

“It’s fine,” he said with a sigh.

“Fine?! How is this fine?”

Wu Ming hadn’t meant to raise his voice. He didn’t want to yell at Xie Lian. He didn’t want to appear as if he was angry at Xie Lian. Of course he wasn’t! It obviously wasn’t any of his fault! He couldn’t even start to fathom Xie Lian’s anguish. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak calmly when his emotions were in such a turmoil.

He was mad at himself. For even letting him be around Jun Wu.

I knew I should have stopped him from joining Wuyong. I knew this was a terrible idea. What was I thinking?

For standing there without doing anything.

Coward Coward Coward Coward Coward Coward Coward Useless Pathetic Worthless Trash– 

“Jun Wu has always been like that since I was a kid. I’m used to it,” Xie Lian said.

Wu Ming’s heart broke and steeled itself back together through the flames of his burning rage. What had he done? What had he done?

“What?! What do you mean since you were a kid?! Tell me he never did anything!” He couldn’t help but start yelling again.

If that monster had hurt him–!

“Of course not!” Xie Lian defended himself.

“I don’t see how that’s obvious,” Wu Ming hissed, before – more calmy – asking, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Xie Lian sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d freak out.”

“Of course I would!”

Wu Ming took a deep breath, before speaking again, trying to calm himself. Here he was making Xie Lian feel uncomfortable, like he had to justify himself, instead of comforting him.

“Dianxia, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I just… You shouldn’t have to go through this. And I can help! I can–”

But what could he do?

“Forget about it,” Xie Lian said. He started walking again, going around and past Wu Ming. “Let’s just check on Ruoye. I’d rather care about whether or not Jun Wu hurt him.”

They arrived at Xie Lian’s room and Wu Ming hesitated to follow him inside.

He had failed him, hadn’t he? Terribly so. Why did he think getting shot was a bad idea? Rivers of his blood flowing down the drain would have been penance for letting him get in that situation to begin with. For not stopping it before it could start. For not being strong enough to kill Jun Wu right then and there.

His blood would have washed Jun Wu’s hands away. Ah, but his blood wasn’t any less filthy, was it? 

No. What he needed was to survive for now. To get dianxia out of here. To comfort him. To cradle him in his arms and tell him that everything would be okay, that he would be okay. But he wasn’t worthy of it either. Of tainting him with his presence, with his touch. He wasn’t any better than Jun Wu. Just another trash that was only around dianxia because he craved him, his words, his mind, his hands, his skin. No, no, no, what he needed was to make himself disappear. To only be a tool for Dianxia, a weapon, just an appendage to be used as he saw fit.

He wanted to breathe for him, to pump life into his body, to protect him, to cherish him, to make sure that never again would he be helpless in the face of danger, would he have to worry about anything. But none of his wants mattered.

Right now, he needed to be strong for him, and to be a safe haven for him.

Yet, what was he doing?

Xie Lian’s voice stopped him from spiraling down further.

“I should have never brought him here. I was selfish,” he half whispered to himself, cradling Ruoye in his arms with tears in eyes. “Selfish. All I do is put everyone I love in danger.”

“Dianxia, no!” Wu Ming interjected vehemently. In a few strides, he joined him in front of a brand-new vivarium. His hand hovered above Xie Lian’s shoulder for a second before he dropped it back at his side. “That’s not true! None of what happened was your fault! None of it! And you did so much good! You saved so many lives!”

Even Ruoye was now trying to comfort him. The snake had initially snuggled up close to reassure himself, but he was now rubbing his head against Xie Lian’s cheeks and licking away his tears with his small split tongue.

It was a sad scene, but it was also heartwarming in a way. To know that even when Wu Ming was failing miserably at being here for Xie Lian, he still wasn’t alone.

“And what would you know about that?” Xie Lian asked in a small, defeated voice.

“I…”

Wu Ming didn’t know what to answer. Say that he’d been watching him this whole time? That he’d been here when everything went down but still had been powerless to do anything? He was too ashamed to admit any of that, so he stayed silent. Searching for a better answer. One that wouldn’t make Xie Lian hate him.

“Right,” Xie Lian came to a conclusion by himself. “It’s because you met me back then.”

Wu Ming panicked for a second. How did he know? How much did he know?

But then he remembered that when he finally found Xie Lian again, he had thoughtlessly called him ‘Dianxia’ like an idiot, making a fool of himself. He winced.

Xie Lian shook his head slightly. His eyes still absently looking at Ruoye, refusing to meet Wu Ming’s gaze. “I haven’t been that person in a long time.”

“You are you,” Wu Ming simply answered. “What matters is you, not the state of you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Dianxia–”

“Stop calling me that,” Xie Lian said, utterly defeated. “And if that’s why you are following me, then you can leave.”

“I won’t!” Wu Ming wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him out of his apathic state, make him realize how important, how perfect, how beautiful, how magnificent he was. “You saved my life when I was a kid and–”

Xie Lian finally turned around to look at him. “Then consider your debt paid and leave,” he said coldly.

“–you gave me a reason to live,” Wu Ming continued. “Your kindness did. And I know that this part of you still exists. I see it every day. In the way you gave a stranger a place to stay when you yourself had nothing. In the way you care more about your snake than yourself. In the way–”

“Shut up!” Xie Lian snapped. “You’re wrong, you’re wrong, you’re wrong! That’s not me! You’re delusional!” He shoved Wu Ming’s chest. “Get out! I don’t want to hear any of this nonsense anymore! Get out!”

“D–Xie Lian–!”

“GET OUT!” Xie Lian pushed him out of the room and slammed the door in his face.

Five years ago

Hong-er’s only light these past three years had been watching his gege’s fencing and martial arts training sessions.

At first, he had slipped into the gymnasium nearly every day in secret. He had been desperate to see Xie Lian again. If not talk to him, at least just see him. He only had had two leads about Xie Lian’s whereabouts, and he wasn’t enough of a creep to go stalk him at his apartment.

He initially hadn’t known that Xie Lian was also a skilled fencer, but he was all the more delighted to find out about it.

Watching him move with that very specific kind of graceful strength on the mats always had an appeasing quality. It lulled Hong-er’s mind to silence, shutting up his harsh, destructive, thoughts.

Figuring out Xie Lian’s schedule wasn’t complicated, and soon Hong-er’s whole week whole life was revolving around those training sessions. It was the only thing Hong-er could look forward to.

After his mother’s death, things had only become worse. His father lost himself in alcohol even more, and he weaponized her death against Hong-er. Saying that it was only another proof of him being a cursed child, blaming him for it, and using it as a justification for his beatings.

These past three years Hong-er spent on and off his father’s house, until he couldn’t take it anymore and left for good, only half confident that he wouldn’t die in an alley. In a way it was as better as it was worse. He had the freedom to make his own choices, however poor they were. His father’s beatings were replaced by strangers’, but at least there were only physical, and he didn’t have to listen to his father’s vitriol and insults anymore.

But that was two months ago. In those two months, watching Xie Lian had become even more of a lifeline than ever. Yet, he had only seen him less and less, and every time he did, the older boy looked a bit more exhausted. From what Hong-er overheard of his conversations with his two stupid friends, his work had been taxing lately and he had almost no free time anymore.

Today marked two weeks since Hong-er had last seen him, and he felt like he was going a bit crazy. It was hard to focus on anything besides hunger. His stomach was digging a hole in his belly, and he was so, so, tired. But still, Hong-er’s mind was on Xie Lian. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t see him again.

He was so absorbed with that horrifying thought that he hadn’t paid any attention to where he was going.

Perhaps it was because of an automatism he had never lost, or perhaps it was the universe that was once again laughing at him, but he somehow ended up standing in front of his father’s house.

It felt weird, behind there. It really hadn’t been that long since he had last cast his gaze on it, but it felt like an eternity. An eternity that wasn’t long enough. He had promised himself that he would never go back, yet here he was only two months later.

With bitter feelings and a final hateful gaze, he turned around and started walking away. But he hadn’t even taken a few steps before he heard the all-too-familiar sound of the door creaking open.

“There you are,” a voice called him from behind.

Like a Pavlovian reflex, Hong-er’s whole body tensed up, preparing itself to fight or flight.

Even from where he was standing, Hong-er could have sworn that he smelled the odor of alcohol.

“Where were you, uh?” The man’s speech was slurred, and even though Hong-er still hadn’t turned around, he could hear his father’s heavy, stumbling footsteps edging closer.

“I’M TALKING TO YOU!”

Without warning, the man threw his bottle against the wall in front of Hong-er. Upon impact, it bounced off the wall in a thousand sharp pieces, one of which sliced Hong-er’s cheek open.

Hong-er finally turned around to see his father stagger towards him, his face red and blotchy from alcohol and anger alike.

He wasn’t sure what he was feeling upon seeing him again when he had thought he was finally free from his clutches.

“Tsk, you useless sack of shit. You didn’t have enough, uh? Trash like you, they just can’t go on without a beating. It’s in their genes.” He let out raucous laughter. “Well, I’ll give you one since you want it so much!”

“Shut up!” Hong-er yelled back.

“Ah, the little cocksucker can talk back!” The man swung his fist at Hong-er’s face with a crooked yellow smile.

Hong-er dodged and tried to leave, but his father grabbed him by the collar and pinned him to the ground. He was laughing like a maniac.

It had been too long since he had last unleashed his rage on someone, Hong-er thought, and he was fully ready to make up for lost time right now.

As they fought – literally tooth and nail –, Hong-er quickly realized that what had started as a brawl was turning into a fight for his life.

His father’s speech was incoherent, going from “You ugly freak, you shouldn’t have come back!” to “How dared you leave?!”, from “You’re a monster, you came back to kill me like you killed your mother!” to “You ungrateful bastard, I should have cut your legs off so that you couldn’t leave!” And Hong-er could see that he had an intent to kill.

Thankfully for him thought, his father was also extremely drunk, and Hong-er had had learnt how to defend himself over the years, so after a few minutes, he successfully took control of the fight and knocked his father out with another glass bottle that had been abandoned on the ground.

When he rose to his feet, it wasn’t without effort. His ribs hurt and his breathing was shallow.

But with a hand grabbing his belly, he walked away without looking back, leaving behind a motionless body slowly bleeding out.

Hong-er mindlessly walked away from the town. Away from the people and the noises. Away from life.

At the exit of the city stood a bridge. When Hong-er reached it, he stopped. He looked at the sky, the road and the river below.

Ah, he was thirsty. So thirsty. When was the last time that he had a drink?

Mn, yes, water sounded good right now. In his parched throat. On his taut skin. All around his body, engulfing him in a protective embrace.

His feet carried him to the railing. The water was very pretty too, shimmering like thousands of stars in the sun.

There was good weather today. What fifteen-year-old wouldn’t want to dive in the water to cool off from the blazing sun?

Yes, yes, that sounded like a good plan. The best plan.

He stepped over the railing and leaned forward.

Just a little bit more and he could finally touch the water.

Just a little bit more and he’d finally be rewarded for all his years of suffering.

He let one hand go.

Oh, wouldn’t it be nice to feel the inviting water soothe his wounds?

“HONG-ER!”

The scream startled him, and his hand slipped from the railing.

He was falling.

He was falling falling falling falling falling falling falling falling falling falling

A crack.

Pain.

He stopped moving.

“HONG-ER!”

The river suddenly seemed scary, like a typhoon sweeping away everything in its path.

“I got you! I got you!”

He looked away from the rushing waters below him, and instead stared at the man above him, holding his hand in a viciously tight grip.

“You’re alright, I got you! Hold on, I’m going to pull you up!”

Hong-er didn’t register the next minute. When Xie Lian pulled his arm to hoist him up, his vision blurred and his ears rang.

When he finally blinked the white spots away from his vision, the first thing he registered was the pain. The second was Xie Lian’s worried face talking to him.

“–hear me? Do you feel pain anywhere? God, you don’t look okay. I’ll call an ambulance.”

He grabbed his phone from his back pocket and started unlocking it with shaking hands.

That brought Hong-er back to reality. “NO!” he yelled instinctively.

The unexpected rise of his voice made him cough harshly, and he immediately beat himself up for screaming at Xie Lian.

“Hong-er, it’s–”

“No! No! No! No!” He shook his head frantically. No hospitals! No institutions!

“Alright, alright.” Xie Lian tried to appease him as one would a wounded animal. He put his phone back in his jeans and held his hands in front of him. Taking a shaky breath to calm himself, he asked, “Can you at least tell me where it hurts?”

Hong-er looked down at the concrete ground on which he was half lying, suddenly feeling very ashamed. He shook his head and answered the only words he could muster at the moment, “It hurts.”

“I know, Hong-er. But it’s going to be okay, I promised. I’m going to help you. Do you trust me?” Xie Lian asked with his ever kind and patient voice.

Hong-er nodded. Of course he trusted his gege!

Xie Lian smiled at that and started to look more closely at Hong-er’s wounds. He frowned at the multiple bruises blooming on Hong-er’s face and the cut on his cheek that had only just stopped bleeding.

“I should have a band-aid in my backpack, wait a second.”

With hurried steps, he walked to the other end of the bridge, where he had unceremoniously dropped his bag when he had started to run toward Hong-er. He trotted back, not wanting to be away from the boy for too long.

“There!” He proudly showed him a red band-aid with a small white flowers print. “Can I touch your face?”

“Mn.”

Hong-er tensed up when Xie Lian moved a little his bandages to properly apply the band-aid, but as soon as it was over, he missed Xie Lian’s touch.

“Alright, for the bruises I can’t do anything right now. You’ll have to come home with me. I’ll give you some ice packs.”

“…”

“Hong-er…”

He had told himself that he wouldn’t bother Xie Lian anymore and look at him now! He was really only a parasite, wasn’t he? Dragging others in the mud with him.

He looked up. Xie Lian was disheveled and still had remnants of panic in his eyes. He was breathing hard from the effort of running a dozen meters in a split second and pulling Hong-er back up. His bag and trousers were dirty from having touched the ground.

All Hong-er could do was let out a pained “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry!” Xie Lian reprimanded him. “Or at least, don’t be sorry for being a bother. I glad I found you today,” he said more calmly. “I thought about you a lot after you left. I was worried and I missed you. So, will you come home with me? Please?”

Hong-er gave in, to Xie Lian’s pleas – his gege should never have to beg him – and to his own desires, and nodded in acceptance.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Xie Lian said with a mix of relief and fondness in his voice.

As if it wasn’t the easiest thing in Hong-er’s cursed existence.

Wanting to help Hong-er to his feet, Xie Lian grabbed his arm and pulled him up. But immediately the boy groaned as pain overtook his mind. Xie Lian let go hurriedly.

“Ah! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I thought I felt it crack when I caught you. Your shoulder is probably dislocated. Can I touch it again? To see if I can put it back?”

Hong-er gritted his teeth. That was really the last thing he wanted, but he forced himself to nod anyway, trusting Xie Lian.

“Alright, let’s see…”

Thankfully, it took less of a minute of Xie Lian fumbling around before he put his shoulder back in place with a terrifying crack.

Still, it did draw another grunt of pain from Hong-er’s lips.

“Sorry! Sorry! I’m done.”

“Thanks…”

Xie Lian gave him a beaming smile and they both pulled themselves to their feet. When standing next to each other, they were almost the same height.

“Oh my, you just keep getting taller,” Xie Lian laughed, trying to relax the atmosphere.

“Mn, I’m not a kid anymore, gege.”

“Pff, whatever you say, haha.”

Xie Lian’s apartment was much the same as Hong-er remembered, and the tension immediately left his shoulders as soon as he stepped foot inside.

“I would cook for you, but I’m terrible at it. Everything I try to make turns out inedible,” Xie Lian said as he took off his shoes.

“I would eat it!” Hong-er protested, offended at the idea that anyone could refuse his gege’s food.

“Mn, I’m sure you would,” Xie Lian said fondly. “Still, I’ll order something. What do you want to eat?”

“Whatever gege wants to,” Hong-er immediately answered.

“How about sushi?”

Hong-er didn’t have a favorite food. As long as it was edible, it was good for him. Or maybe if he was asked, he would answer the noodles he ate with Xie Lian three years ago. Or the bao Xie Lian had bought for him even before that.

“It’s fine.”

“Great! Make yourself at home while I place the order then.”

Hong-er slowly sat on the couch, careful not to put too much strain on his ribs.

A frame nailed to the wall caught his attention. It wasn’t there last time. It was a kid’s drawing of a man in white with honey eyes. Was it… Xie Lian?

It’s ugly, Hong-er thought. Unbefitting of gege. I can make a better one! I’ll learn to draw to make a better one.

But what really caught his eye was the writing at the bottom. The kid’s hen scratch read “Dianxia”.

Xie Lian noticed his curious gaze and laughed awkwardly.

“Haha, that’s embarrassing.” He scratched his cheek. “The kids I work with gave me that nickname.”

“It’s fitting.”

“Hong-er!”

Seeing Xie Lian’s beet red face, Hong-er couldn’t help but laugh. The sound startled him. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed. He hadn’t even known he was capable of it.

Xie Lian smiled at him fondly and messed with his hair playfully.

“Your laugh is beautiful.”

Chapter Text

They didn’t talk about what happened. Or more like, every time Xie Lian tried to bring the matter to the table, Hong-er masterfully diverted his attention to something else.

Everything was going so well. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to remind himself of all the reasons he had to feel like trash.

Living with Xie Lian was like a dream come true. But he knew it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last.

Nothing good ever happened to him, and he knew he was bad luck. He would ruin it like he always did. He would ruin him. And he couldn’t do that to Xie Lian. He needed to leave before his bad luck started affecting him too. But he couldn’t resolve himself to.

 Just one more day, he kept telling himself. One more day and I’ll leave.

But he was a selfish and greedy creature, and he basked in Xie Lian’s care and affection.

He found himself in an impossible position. His guilt was eating him away from the inside. While staying, he was a burden and would only bring misfortune to the only person he cared about. But if he left, then he would let Xie Lian be consumed by his guilt.

He could see the look in Xie Lian’s eyes when he observed him sometimes. Worry.

He could see Xie Lian’s reluctance to go when he had to leave for work. Always afraid to leave him alone.

He could see his hesitation to open the front door when he came back. Waiting a few seconds outside as if bracing himself for what he could find in the apartment.

So, Hong-er stayed. And he hated himself for it. But he couldn’t bear to hurt Xie Lian more. The only thing he could do was try to prove to him that he was fine.

Was he fine? He wasn’t sure what ‘fine’ entailed exactly, but he was certainly better than he had been before. Though it felt quite a bit unnerving to not have to do anything. Just stay in one place and feel safe, without having to scavenge for food or always keep his wits about himself.

Safe. What a foreign concept.

He tried to busy himself. He didn’t like being alone with his thoughts.

So, Hong-er had decided to take it upon himself to try and cook for Xie Lian. It couldn’t be good for him to only eat takeout, and the man still refused to cook anything himself, still claiming that it would poison Hong-er. It was quite a ridiculous concern, Hong-er thought in an affectionate way. If only Xie Lian knew what Hong-er had eaten before…

That’s how Xie Lian found him when he came back from work that day.

“Hong-er?” Xie Lian called while taking his shoes off.

“In here, gege,” Hong-er answered from the kitchen.

Xie Lian stuck his head through the door and looked at him – and the mess he had made on the countertop – curiously. “What are you doing?”

“Baozi. I thought gege might like some after working so hard.”

While he meant it mostly as a joke because he knew that Xie Lian loved his job and blossomed there, it was also true that he had noticed that Xie Lian came home looking more and more exhausted every day.

Xie Lian fully entered the room and gave him one of his beaming smiles that made Hong-er’s heart skip a beat.

It had recently come to Hong-er’s attention that what he was feeling toward Xie Lian might be something else than pure admiration. He wasn’t sure when exactly along the way his adulation turned into more, but it wasn’t surprising. Loving Xie Lian just made sense. Really, how could he not?

Still, as much as he refused to feel ashamed of his feelings, he didn’t want Xie Lian to be uncomfortable because of him – especially since he was well aware that he was, well, a kid –, so he tried to not act too obviously like a teenager hopelessly in love.

In that effort, to hide his reddened cheeks, he focused back on his dough.

“And I owed gege some.”

Xie Lian was confused for a second before realizing that Hong-er was talking about the baozi he bought for him the first time they met 5 years ago.

He sat at the kitchen table and laughed. “Really, are you keeping tabs about that?”

“Gege shouldn’t let others take from him without ever repaying him.”

“I’m sure a few baozi are not that serious,” Xie Lian said humorously while rubbing his temple.

Hong-er didn’t want to dampen the mood, but he was still worried about Xie Lian’s worsening state. “You look tired. Are you alright?” he asked tentatively.

“I’m fine. It’s just… the new kid I told you about – Lang Ying – I’m having a hard time communicating with him. He is not reacting at all when I talk to him, no matter what I try.” He sighed. “But I’m sure that with time I’ll find a way to reach him eventually.”

“… You can’t mend everyone back together,” Hong-er answered honestly. “But I admire you for trying.”

Xie Lian sighed again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother you with that. You don’t have to worry about me.” He put on a fake smile and turned his attention to what Hong-er was doing. “These look good. Have you been working on them for long?”

“A bit. But it’s appeasing.”

“I’m glad then. Will you be done soon? Do you mind if I take a quick shower before we eat?”

“Ughh, yeah–no, I mean, I don’t mind,” Hong-er stammered while blushing madly.

That was one thing Hong-er didn’t like about being in love with Xie Lian. Cursed be his hormonal teenage body and cursed be his filthy mind that reacted to everything!

Pull yourself together Hong-er!

“I’ll be done in fifteen but take your time,” he eventually successfully said like a civilized person.

“Great. Thank you Hong-er.”

Hong-er had just finished setting up the table when Xie Lian came back, his hair still wet, dripping slightly on his forehead.

He tried very hard to not ogle him too visibly, but his eyes still followed the route of a water droplet slowly rolling down Xie Lian’s perfect face. He just looked so soft with his hair wet and in his pajamas. Soft and younger. Or maybe not younger but simply his real age. He actually looked older than he was most of the time.

Hong-er went to the kitchen to grab the baozi he had just finished steaming and brought them back to the table.

“Thanks Hong-er. That’s really kind of you. You didn’t have to, you know.” Xie Lian smiled.

“Mn. But gege is doing a lot for me so…” Hong-er looked away, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “It’s really the very least I can do. Gege deserves better.”

“I like taking care of you. And your company is enough, I don’t need more.”

Hong-er blushed and hastily sat down to cover his embarrassed state, handing a bun to Xie Lian. It was in those moments that he was grateful for the bandages that covered most of his face, hiding his blush away.

Xie Lian raised an eyebrow at his weird behavior but accepted the bao with a smile nonetheless. However, as soon as he bit into the bun, his smile fell and his face contorted in a grimace.

Hong-er’s high spirits were immediately crushed. He had hoped his cooking would be good but honestly… it was the first time he attempted to make baozi, and he never had the occasion to cook real food before. And his taste buds were a bit… Let’s just say that with some of the things he had to eat before, his standards for what counted as good food were very low. So of course, any attempt he made at cooking would never be good enough for Xie Lian.

Defeated, he asked, “It’s bad, isn’t it? I’m sorry gege. You don’t have to eat them.”

He moved to take back the offending buns and throw them away.

How could he have possibly thought that they could be worthy of his gege?

But Xie Lian grabbed the plate before he could, and brought it close to his chest, shielding it with his arms.

“No!” he protested with his mouth full. “It’s not bad, it has character.”

“Gege doesn’t have to lie to me…” Hong-er dejectedly said.

“I’m not! The taste surprised me because it’s very salty, but it’s not bad! It’s actually quite good for a first try! … It is your first try right?”

“Yes…”

“Well that’s leagues away from any attempt I could have made at cooking bao, so you’re certainly a pretty good chef compared to me.” Xie Lian gave him a toothy smile.

He put the rest of his bun in his mouth and made a show of eating it in one go.

“See? I like it.”

Hong-er couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous behavior.

Hong-er ran under the rain. He hadn’t meant to take that long.

He cupped his hands protectively around his load.

Xie Lian had asked him if he could go buy some soy sauce, but Hong-er had made a detour by the park. He had noticed some small white wildflowers that grew in a secluded corner of the public park a few days ago and had found them to be very pretty in their simplicity and authenticity. They reminded him of Xie Lian.

When Hong-er had left the appartement, Xie Lian had seemed agitated and sorrowful. Hong-er didn’t know what happened and Xie Lian had evaded his inquires, so he thought that at least a flower might cheer him up a bit. Therefore, he made a detour to pick one.

He hadn’t anticipated the sudden downpour.

He kept running. He didn’t stop to check the state of his flower. He could only pray that it wasn’t too crumpled.

Stormy water splashed his face and soaked his bandages through, making them stick to his face uncomfortably.

Thankfully, he wasn’t too far from Xie Lian’s appartement when it started raining. Still, when he finally arrived at the building and checked his reflection in the elevator’s mirror, it was only to see that he looked like a pitiful wet rat.

He sighed but didn’t let the bad weather drain his morale. At least, he thought as he stared at his precious cargo, the flower had miraculously been spared. It stood proud and straight in his hands, wholly unaffected by the world and the chaos around it.

The ‘ding’ of the elevator brought him out of his reverie.

He tried to shake off and wring as much water as he could from his clothes before entering the appartement when he noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. It could have been a simple oversight but Hong-er suddenly had a bad feeling.

“Gege?”

No answer.

Hong-er frowned. Xie Lian had no reason to have left the apartment and surely if he had, he would have left a note? He looked around for anything that could look like one but found nothing.

Then he saw that Xie Lian’s bedroom door was wide open and walked into the room. It looked like a hurricane had passed through it.

“Gege!”

His first thought was ‘Something happened to gege.’

The closet had been torn open, shirts and papers scattered on the floor, as if someone had grabbed a few clothes and folders in a hurry to pack a suitcase and leave.

Hong-er’s second thought was ‘No, no, no, no, no, don’t leave me here, don’t leave me alone, please! It has only been a few days, less than a week, it’s not enough time! Please no! I’ll be better, I promise! I’ll be less of a burden, I’ll be everything you want but don’t abandon me!’

He surged out of the bedroom. Surely, Xie Lian wouldn’t do that. Surely, he would have left a note. It was not possible otherwise. Hong-er must have missed it. Right. That was the explanation. If he just looked more carefully, he would find a neatly folded paper with perfect handwriting saying ‘Hong-er, I’m sorry I left. Something came up, don’t worry. I didn’t suddenly realize that you were a curse and that I had to get away from you before you ruined my life like you did everyone else’s–

“Coming back to the recent news of the foster youth Lang Ying who committed suicide this morning–” the television crackled.

Hong-er’s head snapped toward the TV upon hearing that name. He hadn’t even noticed that it was on.

“–We just got new information. Some members of the regional child protective services office spoke out to denounce the behavior of their colleague who had been assigned to the child’s case.”

What was going on?

They couldn’t be talking about Xie Lian. It was impossible.

“Allegedly, the 20 years old man would have mistreated and harassed the kid, going as far as repeatedly telling him to, I quote, ‘throw his pathetic self under a bus.’ The regional child protective services office said that the social worker is now under internal investigation. It is too early to draw any conclusions, but the case certainly has stirred the public’s indignation.”

Hong-er immediately went from dazed to outraged. How dared they slander his gege like that?! He would never! He must having been absolutely crushed by the news. He really cared about that child.

Why would they put the blame on Xie Lian? How could anyone believe it!? And why did the medias suddenly started to care about foster kids? They never gave two shits before!

He didn’t understand much about what was going on, but it didn’t matter. Even if the world was against Xie Lian, Hong-er would support him. He just needed to find him.

“Gege, where did you go?” he whispered. “Why did you leave?”

The white flower looked back at him from where it laid abandoned on the floor.

He hadn’t known it then, but it would take him a long time to find Xie Lian again.

Now

Wu Ming followed Xie Lian silently.

He hadn’t tried again talking about what happened. Xie Lian had just knocked at his door this evening telling him, “I’m going to Shui Shi’s office.” So of course, Wu Ming had tagged along. He didn’t know what the full plan was, but he trusted Xie Lian. Still, he had been quite surprised when Xie Lian went back to his own room, opened the window, hopped over the ledge, and started climbing the outside wall.

“Isn’t there security cameras all around the compound?” Wu Ming asked perplexedly.

“Not on the bedrooms’ side,” Xie Lian answered without stopping his ascension.

Not wanting to fall behind, Wu Ming passed through the window after him.

There weren't many holds to climb the facade and it made him go painfully slow, but it was doable. On the other hand, Xie Lian didn’t seem to struggle one bit. In fact, he made it appear effortless. Jumping from one window to the next, he looked like he was flying.

Eventually they made it to the last floor and Xie Lian pushed open a window. They landed in a deserted room, without any light and without any furniture. Exiting the room, they made it to an equally empty corridor. The whole floor seemed completely abandoned.

Looking around with furrowed brows Wu Ming asked, “Where are we?”

“The 11^th floor,” Xie Lian answered.

But it only confused Wu Ming even more. “There are only 10 floors.”

“Have you never counted the floors from the outside? You can see 11 from the outside, but all the stairs inside stop at 10.”

Wu Ming blinked. Now that Xie Lian was saying it, they had just climbed 6 floors even though they started from the 5^th floor.

Dianxia truly is amazing, he thought to himself.

They walked leisurely to the East wing. There wasn’t a single security camera in sight, nor was there any sign of human activity. It made their work easy, but Wu Ming couldn’t help but find the atmosphere eerie.

When they reached the right area, Xie Lian opened a window once again and jumped.

They were two floors above Shui Shi's office, but right below them was a security camera. Xie Lian carefully climbed down to approach it while staying outside of its field of vision. Then, he took a small tree branch out of his coat and masterfully placed it on top of the camera, securing it so it wouldn’t move, and positioning it so the leaves would block the view of the camera – all with the aim of suggesting that the wind had caused this branch to land there by chance.

Xie Lian looked up at Wu Ming who was still leaning out the window, watching him from above.

“Come,” Xie Lian ordered before climbing down one more floor.

Wu Ming felt warmth pooling in his guts. Xie Lian looked confident and collected. Entirely focused on what he was doing. Strong—he was currently holding himself up from one hand and didn’t look the slightest bit strained. And, well, there was something about watching him do something forbidden—and while he loved to witness Xie Lian wielding a gun and it always made his body feel too hot, Wu Ming still preferred to see him without one, not having to worry about him getting hurt.

Wu Ming shook his head and forced himself to refocus on the mission. He jumped through the window and hastily joined Xie Lian.

The man had settled next to a small vent in the wall. It seemed to be connected to the inside of the room right next to it. In one swift move, Xie Lian tore off the exterior fan, effectively opening the vent.

Wu Ming looked at it curiously.

“What–,” he started asking. But before he could finish, Ruoye appeared from under Xie Lian’s coat and promptly slid inside the hole, disappearing from view.

‘Isn’t dangerous to let Ruoye go god knows where?’, he wanted to ask, but Xie Lian would never purposely put Ruoye in danger, so Wu Ming assumed he knew what he was doing.

Silence wrapped around them. Moments stretched, tension coiling in Wu Ming’s chest as he glanced sideways at Xie Lian. His eyes were sharp, focused on a window to their left, waiting for a sign.

Suddenly, a soft click echoed in the darkness. Wu Ming's brows shot up in surprise as the window of Shui Shi's office creaked open from the inside. The unmistakable white triangular head of Ruoye peeked out, tongue flicking in satisfaction before it slithered back out of view, leaving the window ajar.

“Did…” Wu Ming muttered in awe, disbelief weighing down his voice, “Did a snake just opened the window?” He turned to Xie Lian, who was already grinning, pride glinting in his dark eyes.

“Yes,” Xie Lian said, with a small tilt of his chin. “Isn’t he brilliant?”

Wu Ming stared at him, then back at the now-accessible window.

“Come on,” Xie Lian whispered, already moving toward the edge of the ledge. Wu Ming nodded, still trying to process the scene as he followed.

The air grew colder as they approached the window, the faint glow of city lights casting fragmented patterns on their faces. With a graceful slide, Xie Lian slipped inside and landed silently on the polished floor of Shui Shi’s office. Wu Ming didn’t hesitate before following, his boots making a barely perceptible thud.

The room smelled of paper and old wood, with huge shelves neatly lining the walls. Hung on one of the walls, stood a gigantic painting of a ship sinking in the middle of a tempest. It was a space designed to impress and intimidate, with a heavy desk standing sentinel near the center. But now, with only the shadows and moonlight spilling across it, the room felt exposed, vulnerable.

Xie Lian’s sharp gaze scanned the room, taking in every detail. He gestured silently toward the desk, and Wu Ming nodded, moving to close the window they had just entered through. 

Xie Lian approached the desk with deliberate care. And Wu Ming looked at Xie Lian, watching his meticulous actions with tension.

The computer hummed to life, casting a faint bluish glow across the dark office. The login screen appeared, and Wu Ming’s brow furrowed in concern.

“Of course it’s password-protected,” Xie Lian murmured, unbothered. He crouched beside the chair, pulling out a small device from one of his pockets, attaching it to the computer’s USB port. After a moment, a string of numbers and letters began to scroll rapidly across the screen. 

Wu Ming leaned closer, his voice low but full of admiration. “Where did you get that?” 

Xie Lian glanced up, raising his brow, but didn’t answer.

The brute-force tool beeped softly as it completed its work. The computer unlocked, revealing a pristine desktop. Xie Lian’s fingers flew over the keyboard, opening folders and searching swiftly.

As Xie Lian began scanning through the files on the computer, Wu Ming moved carefully toward the shelves lining the walls of Shui Shi’s office. His eyes combed through the documents and binders, looking for anything that might give them interesting information. He scanned the spines of the folders, each marked with neutral, professional labels like Personnel Reports and Financial Summaries.

Meanwhile, Xie Lian found what he was looking for. 

“Got it,” he whispered, deftly plugging a flash drive in the tower of the computer. He began copying the files, his focus unshaken. 

A folder with a suspiciously plain black cover caught Wu Ming’s eye, and he pulled it down, flipping it open. Inside it were pages filled with coded entries, dates, and what looked like shipment logs. His brows furrowed as he skimmed the information.

“Dianxia,” he whispered, holding up the folder. “These look like shipment logs, but everything is coded. It must be about something illegal.”

Xie Lian glanced at the folder, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Bring it here,” he murmured.

Wu Ming moved silently across the room, placing the folder beside Xie Lian. The man flipped through the folder, his eyes scanning the pages with practiced efficiency.

“This cross-references with some of what’s on the computer,” he murmured, a hint of approval in his voice. “Here,” he handed him a phone, “take pictures of everything with this.”

Wu Ming nodded, grabbing the device and swiftly started working. Thankfully, the folder didn’t have a lot of pages, so he was progressing fast. But as he was halfway done with it, a faint metallic scrape echoed from the hallway.

Wu Ming’s gaze darted to the door.

“Keep going,” Xie Lian whispered.

He nodded and started flipping through the pages faster. Meanwhile, Xie Lian kept browsing through files on the computer, searching for anything else that might be useful.

When Wu Ming finished taking pictures, Xie Lian was still downloading things.

“How much longer?” he asked quietly. 

“Not long,” Xie Lian replied, his voice steady. 

Wu Ming went to stand near the door, his ears sharp for any sounds, his hand hovering near the weapon holstered at his side, tension building with every passing second. 

Thankfully, it truly didn’t take long, and Xie Lian swiftly removed the flash drive, powering down the computer with practiced efficiency. He secured everything back into his pockets, straightened, and gave Wu Ming a small nod. 

“Let’s go,” he said. 

As they moved back toward the window, stronger noises echoed from the corridor—a door opening, followed by muffled voices. Wu Ming tensed, shooting a glance at Xie Lian.

“Ruoye,” Xie Lian called softly. The white snake emerged from under a bookcase, coiling quickly around his wrist and disappearing back under his coat. 

He climbed through the window first with graceful ease. Wu Ming followed, closing the window behind him with a quiet click. 

The two began retracing their route, their movements just as calculated and silent as before. Scaling the wall back to their entry point, Wu Ming couldn’t help but glance at Xie Lian again, marveling at his composed demeanor. 

When they finally reached the safety of the 11^th floor, Wu Ming let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

They stay slumped against the wall for a few seconds, getting their breath back. Until they suddenly heard footsteps coming their way.

They looked at each other in panic. They barely had time to get back on their feet when a man dressed in black and with long hair tied in a ponytail turned around the corner, his eyes focused on his phone.

This man, Wu Ming realized, was the same that he saw at the empty restaurant weeks ago. He hadn’t seemed to be anyone important. How come he was here, in a locked down area?

The man frowned at his phone and before looking up.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian grabbed Wu Ming by the arm and swiftly dragged him through an open door to their right. But they couldn’t risk closing the door after them for the man would definitely see it. Wu Ming and Xie Lian exchanged a panicked glance before their eyes darted around the room, searching for somewhere to hide.

But there was nothing in the room except a few dusty carboard boxes and a narrow utility closet. So, Xie Lian grabbed Wu Ming once again, pushed him inside the closet, and entered after him without hesitation.

The cramped space barely had room for the both of them, forcing their bodies close. Xie Lian pulled the door shut gently, leaving only a thin sliver for air and the faintest view of the dim room beyond.

“Quiet,” Xie Lian whispered, his breath warm against Wu Ming’s ear.

Wu Ming nodded, but his heartbeat thundered in his chest. Every small noise felt amplified—the hum of the building’s HVAC, the soft shuffle of the man’s footsteps outside, and worst of all, the sound of his own quickened breathing. He closed his fists, willing himself to calm down.

Suddenly, Xie Lian’s hand moved to cover Wu Ming’s mouth as the footsteps outside the closet door grew louder. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through Wu Ming. Pressed so tightly against Xie Lian, his mind raced—not with fear of being caught, but with a mortifying awareness of their proximity. If they stayed like that longer, he might…

He clenched his fists tighter—his nails stabbing into his palms to the point of almost drawing blood—, restraining himself from putting his hands on Xie Lian’s waist. But. it. was. right. here!

Wu Ming tried to shift subtly, desperate to create some distance, but Xie Lian tightened his grip, pulling him closer, silently instructing him not to move.

But that only worsened Wu Ming’s predicament. He could feel the heat radiating of Xie Lian’s body, the shape of his defined muscles caging him against the wall. He was stuck. He couldn’t move a millimeter, fully at Xie Lian’s mercy.

Heat flushed his face as he felt his dick coming to life and twitching slightly. He froze in shame, praying that Xie Lian wouldn’t notice. But as the seconds dragged on, there was no hiding it.

Xie Lian’s sharp eyes caught the tension in Wu Ming’s body and the growing discomfort in his expression. His brow furrowed slightly before realization dawned. The air stilled around them, and Wu Ming held his breath. He couldn’t see Xie Lian’s face clearly in the dark, but he could feel his burning gaze on his half hard cock.

Then, after a second of excruciating silence, Xie Lian moved slightly, the action making his leg graze Wu Ming’s dick.

Taken by surprise, Wu Ming let out a whimper, “Aa-ah.”

Xie Lian immediately withdrew the hand that was still on Wu Ming’s mouth and took a half-step back, hurriedly putting distance between them despite the tight space.

Wu Ming exhaled shakily, his humiliation complete. Before he could stammer an apology, Xie Lian opened the closet door a crack and slipped out silently.

The space immediately felt colder without him, as if someone had dropped a bucket of iced water on Wu Ming. But he barely had time to dwell on it before he remembered where they were.

Cautiously, he followed after Xie Lian and exited the closet too, forcing his mind to focus back on their surroundings.

Xie Lian’s face was carefully neutral where he was standing, on his guard, carefully listening for any noise outside the room, pretending that nothing just happened.

Wu Ming stood awkwardly a few meters away, having half the mind to run outside the room and get shot by the Wuyong officer. At least it would put an end to his humiliation.

After another full minute of silence, they secured their masks around their faces and carefully exited the room. But as they stepped back into the corridor, they saw the man in black standing near the door, waiting for them with his gun drawn and aimed directly at them.

“Well, well,” the man said, his voice dripping with dry amusement. “What have we here?”

Wu Ming’s stomach dropped, immediately forgetting about his previous predicament.

Xie Lian’s eyes darted around, assessing their surroundings, but his expression betrayed nothing. His hand twitched, hovering near his side where a concealed blade was strapped.

“Step out. Slowly,” the man ordered, motioning with the gun.

They obeyed, moving into the faint light of the hallway. Wu Ming’s mind scrambled for a plan, but Xie Lian spoke first, his tone calm and steady.

“We’re just passing through,” Xie Lian said, his voice slightly muffled by his mask. “No need for violence.”

The man tilted his head, regarding them with suspicion. “Passing through a locked-down floor? Looking like that? Doesn’t sound convincing.” His grip on the gun tightened.

Xie Lian’s gaze flicked to Wu Ming, a subtle signal that he needed to stay quiet and let him handle this.

His calm expression didn’t waver as he took a slow step forward, his hands slightly raised, palms visible. Wu Ming could feel his heart pounding, but he stayed silent, trusting Xie Lian’s lead.

“We don’t have to do this,” Xie Lian said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge of authority. “Lower the gun. We’ll leave, and you won’t have to deal with us again.”

The man in black snorted, his finger twitching on the trigger. “Nice try. Hands where I can see them—both of you.”

Xie Lian’s hand moved in a fluid motion, almost imperceptible, reaching for the concealed blade strapped to his side. But the man in black was quick, his sharp eyes catching the movement. He lunged forward, his free hand snapping out to grab Xie Lian’s wrist, twisting it sharply. The blade clattered to the ground with a metallic echo.

“Not so fast,” the man growled, shoving Xie Lian back against the wall. The gun remained steady in his other hand, aimed now at Wu Ming. “Try anything else, and he’s next.”

Xie Lian gritted his teeth, his mind racing. He planted his foot against the wall behind him and pushed off, using the force to knock into the man’s side. The sudden impact threw him off balance, and his aim faltered. Xie Lian capitalized on the opening, grabbing the man’s gun arm with both hands and twisting it upward. The weapon discharged, the deafening crack of a gunshot echoing down the corridor, but the bullet embedded harmlessly in the ceiling.

The man snarled, wrenching his arm free with surprising strength. He spun, slamming an elbow into Xie Lian’s side, but Xie Lian rolled with the hit, absorbing the impact as he dropped low. In the same motion, he swept his leg out, catching the man’s knees and sending him stumbling backward.

Wu Ming darted forward, kicking the fallen blade across the floor to Xie Lian. The man in black recovered quickly, lunging to grab the weapon, but Xie Lian was faster. He slid forward, scooping up the blade and slashing upward in one fluid motion. The man jerked back, narrowly avoiding the knife, but the move gave Xie Lian the opening he needed.

With a sudden pivot, Xie Lian drove his shoulder into the man’s chest, slamming him against the opposite wall. The gun clattered to the ground this time, and Xie Lian kicked it away. But the man wasn’t done yet. He grappled with Xie Lian, their movements a blur of strikes and counters.

Wu Ming’s eyes darted to the discarded gun. He made a snap decision, diving for it. His fingers closed around the handle just as the man twisted free of Xie Lian’s hold, lunging toward him.

“Enough!” Wu Ming shouted, leveling the gun at the man, his aim steady.

The man froze, his chest heaving. Xie Lian stepped beside Wu Ming, his blade poised and ready. His calm voice cut through the tension.

“Step back,” Xie Lian ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Unless you’d prefer to test your luck.”

The man glared at them, his jaw clenched. Slowly, he raised his hands in surrender, his eyes flicking between the gun and Xie Lian’s blade.

Xie Lian’s gaze remained fixed on their opponent. “Now, you’re going to tell us why you were here. And you’d better hope we like your answer.”

The man frowned, not saying anything, and scrutinized them with an unreadable look on his face.

“Now!” Xie Lian lost patience.

But the man had realized something. “It’s you,” he finally said after a few tense seconds, not answering the question.

It was Xie Lian’s turn to frown, not liking the idea of the man recognizing them.

After seemingly thoroughly considering his options, the man sighed. “We’re here for the same thing, so lower your gun.”

“What?” That startled Xie Lian, but he refused to lower his guard. It could very much be a trap.

“I work for Black Water,” the man said plainly.

This time, it was Wu Ming who let out a surprised “What?”

Xie Lian’s eyes narrowed as he processed the man’s words. The tension in the corridor was palpable, the silence broken only by the sound of their labored breaths.

“You work for Black Water?” Xie Lian repeated, his blade steady. His expression betrayed nothing, but his mind raced to piece together the implications.

The man nodded, his hands still raised. “Right,” he said with a bored voice. “So if you’d be so kind as to stop pointing your weapons at me, I’m not the enemy here.”

Wu Ming stared at the man. He had a weird feeling. There was something familiar about him, and not only before he had seen him once before.

“You tried to shoot us first,” Xie Lian answered. “Forgive me if I don’t feel particularly friendly.”

The man’s lips twitched, almost into a smirk. “Can you blame me when I didn’t know who I was dealing with? But I can see now you’re not a threat to my mission.”

“Your mission,” Xie Lian said, his voice flat. “And what mission is that?”

The man lowered his hands slightly, his eyes calculating. “Same as yours, I imagine—retrieving some valuable intel.”

Xie Lian tilted his head, considering. He didn’t sense any obvious deception, but something about the man’s calm demeanor set him on edge. “If you work for Black Water, prove it,” he said, his voice firm.

Wu Ming glanced between them, uneasy.

Xie Lian’s blade stayed poised as the man considered his demand. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he pulled back his sleeve, revealing a patch of pale, unmarked skin. He made a show of wiping his thumb over the area, smudging what appeared to be concealer. Beneath it, the outline of a skeletal fish tattoo emerged, its thin, intricate lines stark against his skin.

Wu Ming’s breath caught. He’d heard rumors about this symbol: the mark of Black Water, used to identify its operatives. It was supposed to be near-impossible to forge, though Wu Ming couldn’t say for sure if that was true.

“That good enough for you?” the man asked, his tone faintly sarcastic.

Xie Lian’s eyes narrowed. “Fine for now.”

“Fair enough.” The man stepped back and straightened his coat. “If you don’t mind.” He took his gun back from Wu Ming’s hands.

“What’s your name?” Xie Lian asked.

“… Ming Yi.” With that, he turned around and began walking away, his steps unhurried despite the situation, disappearing around the corner.

As soon as they were alone, Xie Lian and Wu Ming exchanged tense looks. Xie Lian sheathed his blade with a practiced motion, his expression tight with controlled frustration.

“Do you think he’s dangerous?” Wu Ming asked.

“We certainly shouldn’t trust him blindly,” Xie Lian replied. He glanced down the corridor where Ming Yi had vanished. “It’s likely that he was sent to keep us under surveillance. It isn’t a surprise that Black Water has spies inside Wuyong, but I don’t believe it was a coincidence that we ran into each other and that he recognized us.”

“I’ve seen him before,” Wu Ming said.

“What?” Xie Lian looked at him with a frown. “When? What was he doing?”

“The day after we arrived. And nothing, he was just eating at a restaurant.”

“Mn… Well, regardless, we should hurry back.”

Going back to their rooms was easy enough. Exiting the compound without being seen was the next challenge. Though technically they hadn’t been told that they weren’t allowed to leave, it very much had felt like an implicit rule, and the constant presence of guards and security cameras made it clear: movement was monitored.

But they had spent enough time observing the routines of the guards to notice a blind spot at the rear of the compound—a small service exit where delivery vans came in during the late afternoon. It wasn’t strictly locked down, and the guards stationed there seemed more interested in their phones than their patrols.

They waited a few days and, timing it perfectly, slipped out during the guard changeover. Xie Lian had lifted a set of keys earlier that day from the valet’s office—a sleek black car parked near the employee entrance now served as their escape vehicle.

The car started with a quiet hum. Wu Ming navigated the narrow access roads leading away from the compound, keeping his movements smooth and unhurried, as though they had every right to be there. He resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief until they were well past the outer perimeter and the glow of the compound’s lights was just a faint glimmer in the rearview mirror.

As the city skyline came into view, Xie Lian glanced over at Wu Ming. “Be careful when we arrive. Black Water may very well not uphold her part of the deal. There’s no telling what she’ll do once we give her the files.”

“I know,” Wu Ming answered grimly.

They parked the car a few streets away from the address Black Water had given them.

The building was completely different from the hotel where they met her. It looked like a modern apartment block and blended in completely with the surroundings.

A woman was watching the main entrance. Her posture was nonchalant, but her eyes were sharp. As soon as she saw them approaching, she called someone through her earpiece and motioned them inside.

They walked into the hall where a man was waiting for them. He led them through a maze of corridors to a conference room. Immediately after Xie Lian opened the door, the man disappeared, leaving them alone with the two occupants of the office.

Black Water was sitting on a chair, boringly scrolling on her phone while a woman wearing a light pink dress was enthusiastically talking her ear off.

When Xie Lian and Wu Ming entered the room, they immediately both focus their whole attention on them.

“You made it!” exclaimed excitedly the woman in pink.

Xie Lian gave her a weird look and Wu Ming could only agree. She seemed very familiar. Why had he had that feeling with every person he met recently? It was driving him crazy.

Black Water raised an eyebrow and extended her hand. “You have it?”

Instead of answering, Xie Lian took the thumb drive out of one of his pockets and placed it in the woman’s expectant palm. Her black nails closed around it, and she swiftly plugged it into a computer on the table.

She browsed through a few files, skimming their contents with an appraising look before unplugging the thumb drive. “Looks legit.”

Wu Ming frowned. How could she tell so fast?

“Then–,” started Xie Lian.

Crack!

Black Water broke the thumb nail in two, making a show of picking up the two halves and throwing them in a trash bin in the corner of the room.

Wu Ming’s eyes opened wide, and he let out an indignant, “What!?”

“Hēi-jiě¹, don’t be rude!” the woman in pink scolded Black Water.

“I don’t need it,” she simply answered.

“It was just a test, wasn’t it?” Xie Lian asked. “You already had all these information.”

Wu Ming frowned. He didn’t like the idea that they risked their lives for nothing, but he guessed it made sense. Black Water didn’t have many reasons to trust them.

“Of course.” Black Water waved her hand dismissively.

“And you passed the test, so congrats!” the woman in pink said, trying to break the tense atmosphere.

Redirecting his attention to her, Wu Ming wondered what she was doing here. Who even was she?

He could think of another person who felt out of place surrounded by mobsters.

Actually, her whole demeanor was very similar to Shi Qingxuan.

And she…

looked like him…

…

Coming to a realization, Wu Ming stared at the woman (man? person?) with a new intent. It made sense. Afterall, Shi Qingxuan had been the one to do his makeup so that he’d look like Zhao Huiyan.

“It’s common sense not to trust strangers,” said Black Water.

…

You’re gotta be kidding me, Wu Ming thought. Now that he saw it, he couldn’t unsee it.

That’s why they felt familiar this whole time!

“Fuck,” he said out loud, refraining the urge to facepalm.

“What?” Xie Lian asked, surprised to hear Wu Ming curse out of nowhere.

“They’re Shi Qingxuan and Ming Yi,” he explained.

“What?” Xie Lian repeated, even more confused.

“Ha-haha, whaat? Noooo,” Shi Qingxuan tried to deny while laughing awkwardly, which only resulted in proving Wu Ming right.

Ming Yi frowned and threw a disapproving look at Shi Qingxuan.

“Sorry Hei-jie…” they said, sounding truly guilty.

Black Water rubbed their temple with a sigh. “It’s fine. I was going to tell them anyway.”

“Please explain,” Xie Lian asked with a frown.

Black Water gave him an appraising look before seemingly jumping to another subject. “Your parents were laundering money,” they stated. “Do you know what for?”

Xie Lian’s whole demeanor changed immediately. “They didn’t launder anything,” he bit back with venom, ready to draw his blade.

“They did. Whether they knew where the money came from or not, I can’t tell. But the facts don’t lie.”

“They were not guilty!” Xie Lian defended his parents. “Jun Wu gave them some money, but–”

“Discussing their responsibility is irrelevant,” Black Water cut him off. “Do you know where the money came from?” they reiterated.

“Drugs,” Xie Lian said, but it was clear that he didn’t know, and just answered the most likely option.

“Wrong,” Black Water calmly stated.

“Where are you getting at?!” Xie Lian lost patience.

After a pregnant pause, Black Water finally answered. “It was coming from organ trafficking.”

Xie Lian froze, shell-shocked. “What?”

“Let me tell you a story,” they said.

When He Xuan was 20, his mother fell sick. It started as a simple flu, but over the course of the next few weeks, her condition worsened considerably. So much so that he had to drive her to the hospital in the middle of the night.

He hadn’t understood what was going on when the doctors rushed her to the ER and told him to call her relatives. When his sister arrived, still in her pajamas, a nurse came to see them. He announced that their mother had had an undiagnosed kidney failure for some time.

“She’s stable now, but it’s severe. With her current state it’s risky, but she needs a transplant.”

At the time, He Xuan had thought that this night would be the worst of his life.

He was wrong.

His mother stayed in that first hospital for about a month before He Xuan and his sister decided to move her to another one that had recently opened and specialized in transplantations.

That decision would be one he would come to regret his whole life.

Still, no matter what the doctors tried, they weren’t able to help her. Her condition worsened too fast. The nurse had been right: she needed a transplant.

He Xuan and his sister immediately did some tests at that same hospital to see if their kidneys could be compatible. Even his girlfriend, who was a childhood friend and had always very been close with He Xuan’s family, volunteered to give one of her kidneys.

Lamentably, the results came back negative for all three of them. Even though both He Xuan’s sister and girlfriend had compatible blood types, their HLA didn’t match, and their crossmatch wasn’t good either.

“We could still try,” the doctor said. “But there’s an 80% chance that your mother would reject the transplant.” She looked at He Xuan with such pity in her eyes that he understood that none of the doctors thought his mother had a chance to survive.

Everything had happened so suddenly. Two months were not enough to accept the fact that he was going to lose her.

He didn’t remember much of the following week. He and his sister took turns at the hospital, even though their mother was sleeping most of the time. And his girlfriend – while she tried to be here for him as much as she could – had to go back to college. He Xuan should have too, if he didn’t want to fail his year, but he couldn’t have cared less at that moment.

It kept going like that for a week. Until his sister one day didn’t come to relieve him from his shift at their mother’s bedside. Too tired, he sent her a message and still went home, falling asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

When he woke up, he checked his phone, but his message was unread. Suddenly starting to worry, he tried calling his sister, to no avail. After a few hours and a dozen unanswered calls and messages, he decided to go check on her at her house directly. 

The drive felt unending, and he was scared of what he would find when he opened her door with his spare key.

But what was waiting for him was…

nothing.

Absolutely nothing was out of place. It looked as if she had just left to go to work.

So, he jumped back in his car and drove to the bakery she worked part time at.

She wasn’t at the bakery. In fact, according to her coworkers, she hadn’t come to work the previous day either.

More and more panicked every minute, He Xuan kept searching everywhere.

Eventually, he went to the police, and at 6pm his sister was officially declared missing.

Only four days later, his girlfriend disappeared. Between one class and the next, she was gone.

It took another two days for the police to find the bodies. The autopsies revealed that one body was missing its heart entirely, while the other’s heart had been removed and clumsily replaced after being damaged. The grisly evidence pointed to organ trafficking, a dark and elusive world, but leads were scarce.

All signs seemed to point toward Wuyong, a notorious mafia syndicate with a long history of involvement in illegal trades. However, the police could find no concrete proof to tie them to the crime. Their search for the missing heart on the black market turned up nothing, and the trail went cold. Frustrated and demoralized, the investigation was labeled "unsolved," and the case was closed.

The hospital where He Xuan’s mother had been transferred shut its doors shortly after, amid rumors of malpractice and financial instability. A month later, He Xuan’s mother passed away, her frail body finally succumbing to the illness that had ravaged her.

For He Xuan, the losses were too much to bear. Guilt, anger, and despair consumed him. The once-hopeful young man now stood at the edge of a dark abyss. He considered ending his life, but a burning need for revenge anchored him. If no one else would uncover the truth, he would.

He reinvented himself, taking the name Ming Yi, and infiltrated Wuyong with a single goal: expose what the syndicate did to the world. He kept his identity and motives concealed, hiding his rage behind a cold, stoic mask.

Months turned into a year. Ming Yi gained the trust of the syndicate, rising through the ranks methodically. Along the way, he crossed paths with Shi Qingxuan, a lively and kind-hearted member who seemed almost out of place in the ruthless organization. Shi Qingxuan had a certain naivety, a quality that intrigued Ming Yi. Over time, they developed a bond, a fragile friendship built on moments of shared laughter and mutual respect.

It was a casual conversation with Shi Qingxuan that shattered the facade Ming Yi had constructed around himself. Shi Qingxuan mentioned their heart transplant with a tone of gratitude and wistful relief.

“I’ve been sick since I was a kid,” they said, their eyes soft. “The doctors didn’t think I’d live to see adulthood. But last year... a miracle happened. They found a perfect match for me.”

Ming Yi froze. His chest tightened as a horrifying realization clawed at his mind. The timing, the miracle, the perfect match—everything pointed to one truth. Shi Qingxuan’s life had been saved by the heart of the woman he had loved.

The knowledge consumed him. He wrestled with conflicting emotions: a thirst for vengeance, a pang of grief, and the unbearable weight of guilt. The thought of harming Shi Qingxuan crossed his mind—revenge for a stolen life—but he found he couldn’t do it. Despite everything, Shi Qingxuan had become a genuine friend.

One night, unable to bear the burden alone, Ming Yi revealed the truth. He told Shi Qingxuan everything: his real identity, the deaths of his sister and girlfriend, and the missing heart that now beat in Shi Qingxuan’s chest.

Shi Qingxuan’s face turned pale as they listened, horror dawning in their eyes. They had been sheltered their whole life, kept away from Wuyong’s darkest dealings by their older brother. But now, they couldn’t deny the terrible reality.

“I didn’t know,” they whispered, their voice trembling. “I swear I didn’t know.”

Determined to make amends, Shi Qingxuan vowed to help He Xuan uncover the truth, even if it meant turning against their own family. Together, they began to dig deeper into Wuyong’s operations.

But the web of deceit was vast, and evidence eluded them. Wuyong’s power and influence left no loose ends. Every lead seemed to vanish into shadows.

Frustrated by their lack of progress, He Xuan decided on a new strategy. If Wuyong could bury the truth, then he would create his own force to unearth it. That was how he became Black Water, the leader of a new syndicate, Nether Water.

Nether Water would be different—a calculated, precise machine built on the principles of exposing corruption and delivering retribution. It became a refuge for those disillusioned with Wuyong, and a weapon for He Xuan’s vendetta.

Shi Qingxuan stood at his side, their friendship now tempered by shared pain and a united purpose.

The stage was set. The hunt for justice had only just begun.

Chapter Text

“People started disappearing once again. We kept a close watch on the black market, and it matches. Recently there has been an influx of organs being sold. Different kinds, but mainly hearts,” Black Water grimly declared.

Shi Qingxuan had sat down sometimes during He Xuan’s account of their past. She was now staring at her hands folded in her lap with a faraway look.

“Hearts are tricky.” Black Water lightly tapped their fingers against the table. “Most of the organ trade is organized like this: attract poor and vulnerable people with the promise of more money than they could possibly imagine, make them sign waivers to sell their organs, and lie to the authorities—have them say that they’re related to the recipient. And once the surgery is done, dump them back in their misery without any money or medical care. And when the victims will eventually desperately go find the police, the traffickers will be long gone.”

Wu Ming couldn’t imagine how dreadful someone’s life could get for them to consider selling their organs. And he himself hadn’t exactly lived a sheltered life. Maybe some people cared more than him about the promise that it would also save someone else’s life.

But all of this was way darker than he had anticipated. He had known that going after a mafia as powerful as Wuyong would get ugly, but how could he have imagined it would go this far? Organ trafficking was a thing that happened in movies, not in real life!

Oh, what did they get themselves into?

“But for a heart,” Black Water continued, “you need to kill the donor while assuring that they’re only brain-dead. Which makes it harder to be sure that it’ll go to the right patient. Once the donor is dead, there is no next of kin priority. So, it is more complicated than buying a few doctors.”

“The optimal scenario would be to have their own facility and surgeons to perform the transplant completely under the radar,” Xie Lian concluded.  

“Yes,” He Xuan agreed, “but it costs a lot, and surgeons able to successfully perform heart transplants are rare.”

“That’s why you think it must be Wuyong,” Wu Ming deduced. “Because who else would have the means for it?”

“Exactly. But we couldn’t find any substantial information about their doings.” Black Water slumped down on their chair and massaged their temple.

“It’s a very covert operation,” Shi Qingxuan suddenly added in a subdued voice, very uncharacteristic of herself. “Only my brother—Shi Wudu, Ling Wen and Jun Wu seem to know about it, but I already went through all of my brother’s and Ling Wen’s stuff, and I couldn’t find anything.”

So, ‘Shi Wudu’ was Shui Shi’s real name. Why choose a code name so similar? Because he couldn’t bear to be called anything else than ‘master’? How arrogant.

“If we want definite proof, we will need to find the facility Jun Wu is using as a hospital,” Black Water said.

That made sense. But if they couldn’t find any information about it through Ling Wen or Shi Wudu, it only left them with one option. Jun Wu.

It seemed Wu Ming had come to the right conclusion, as what Shi Qingxuan said next was: “We should search Jun Wu’s office. But even I can’t get in there. The security is too tight.”

“He seems to favor you more than anyone else,” Black Water addressed Xie Lian. “So, you might have a chance to get in.”

Xie Lian frowned, folding his arms. He took a minute to think before answering. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Wu Ming wanted to yell. It was too dangerous! They were biting off more than they could chew! But at this point, he knew that there was nothing he could say to change Xie Lian’s mind. Wu Ming could only do everything in his power to protect Xie Lian.

“Good,” Black Water said. “Find the hospital’s address, and we’ll take it from there. And don’t die in the process.”

“Of course I won’t. I’ll see Jun Wu’s downfall, no matter what.”

It had been their goal since the beginning, but at this very moment, Wu Ming couldn’t help but feel that it sounded too ominous. They finally had a clear direction in which to go, but at what price?

Eventually, they had to get back to Wuyong’s base. They couldn’t afford to leave for too long.

“I’ll see you out,” Shi Qingxuan said, back to her bubbly self.

Black Water, who had initially planned to go back to their work and had started to type on their computer, immediately closed their laptop and followed the group as they left.

Do they… not want to leave Shi Qingxuan alone with us? Wu Ming thought.

The person in question made small talk with them while Black Water stayed a few steps behind the group and kept silent.

Looking behind his shoulder, Xie Lian asked Shi Qingxuan in a low voice, “So, they’re a… man?”

“Who, He-xiong?” Xie Lian nodded. “A man that is sometimes a woman. A woman that is sometimes a man. Does it matter?” Shi Qingxuan shrugged. “It’s all very fun. You should try,” she added with a smile.

“No thanks,” he declined, trying not to make a weird face. “… But, so, a woman now?”

That actually does sound kind of fun, Wu Ming thought to himself in a distant way.

“Don’t care,” He Xuan suddenly said, joining the conversation.

Xie Lian glanced at them to gauge their reaction, but they truly didn’t seem to care about the subject.

“You can take that as a yes,” Shi Qingxuan explained.

“And you?” Xie Lian asked—out loud this time.

“Don’t you think I make a pretty girl?” Shi Qingxuan looked at him with doe eyes.

He Xuan tsked loudly from behind them, clearly irritated by the question, but didn’t say anything.

“That’s not the question,” Xie Lian refused to answer.

Does he though? wondered Wu Ming. She is objectively pretty, but she doesn’t seem like his type. Too loud. Too much.

“Of course it is!” she exclaimed with glee.

Xie Lian frowned. “That’s just confusing.”

“Fine, fine. It’s like this,” Shi Qingxuan explained, “you can call He-xiong whatever since she claims she doesn’t care. And you can call me ‘she’ when I look like this, and ‘he’ when I don’t. Or ‘they’ if you fancy it.”

“I see…”

“We’re here,” Black Water interrupted the discussion.

Wu Ming looked away from Xie Lian and Shi Qingxuan, and saw that they had effectively reached the front door.

He tuned out the rest of the conversation—more of Shi Qingxuan pleasantries—as background noise, waiting for her to finally have enough and let them go. Though he supposed it only made sense that she would latch on to the first person that passed by to talk to, with how taciturn both Black Water and her brother seemed to be.

As he himself was watching Xie Lian, Wu Ming could feel Black Water’s eyes on him. He certainly didn’t like being scrutinized that way, but he couldn’t sense any ill intention from her, so he refrained from snapping at her.

Eventually, Black Water seemed to have had enough, switching back her focus on Shi Qingxuan and telling her to shut up before swiftly and unceremoniously kicking Xie Lian and Wu Ming out.

It was well into the night when they slipped back into Wuyong’s headquarters. Most people were asleep by then, but a few rooms still had their lights turned on, noise coming from them. Nevertheless, they both were able to return to their floor without hassle.

They arrived in front of their rooms, and as Wu Ming was about to open his door, Xie Lian grabbed his arm and dragged him inside his own bedroom. Wu Ming closed bit his tongue to prevent himself from letting out an embarrassing squeak at being suddenly manhandled.

Once Xie Lian freed his arm to go close the door being them, Wu Ming cleared his throat hopping his cheeks hadn’t visibly reddened.

Before he could ask what this was about, Xie Lian said: “I’ll go see Jun Wu tomorrow.”

Wu Ming froze. He knew that they didn’t have much of a choice at that point, but he still didn’t like that idea one bit. He folded his arms, asking with a frown, “What’s the plan?”

Xie Lian sighed, massaging his temple as if to soothe away an upcoming headache. “I’ll distract him while you slip inside his office and search for the info we need.”

That did absolutely nothing to ease Wu Ming’s worry. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

Xie Lian looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. “…”

“Dianxia–”

“Don’t!” he interrupted him. “I’m not asking for your opinion. If you don’t want to help me, then fine, don’t! I don’t need you!” Xie Lian started to get angry, but Wu Ming could see that it was an attempt to cover his hurt.

He felt his heart twist at his words. Please don’t say that!

“I don’t want him to hurt you,” Wu Ming pleaded.

Ruoye’s small head peaked out from under a shirt lying on the ground, as if wanting to see what all the noise was about.

“It doesn’t matter!” Xie Lian retorted.

“Of course it does!” Wu Ming could hear his voice break. He didn’t know how to make Xie Lian see how much he mattered to him. How much he desperately wished to shield him from harm. How important and perfect he was. How he deserved everything good in this world.

“Why are you like this! If you won’t help me then leave!” Xie Lian aggressively waved his hand, motioning him away. “You’re useless!”

Wu Ming physically flinched at his words. Not being able to bear seeing Xie Lian’s disappointed face, he looked away and curled his hands into fists, sharp nails biting into his skin and drawing blood. If he could, he would have hit himself for his worthiness, but there was no need to look even more pathetic in Xie Lian’s eyes.

Taking Wu Ming’s silence as a confirmation of his words, Xie Lian opened the door once again and shoved him out of the room.

This time, it was to avoid shedding a tear that Wu Ming bit his lips. He knew that if he refused to help, then Xie Lian would really go alone. He couldn’t let that happen. Not only would it be impossible for him to complete the mission, but if anything went wrong – and it would – he would be trapped alone with Jun Wu.

No, he panicked, he couldn’t let that happen.

“Wait!” he yelled. “I’ll do it.” Xie Lian stopped his movements. “But you’re more important than the mission. If he tries anything, we leave,” Wu Ming set his conditions.

Xie Lian stayed silent for a few seconds before answering in a quiet voice, “…Whatever.”

The last thing Wu Ming saw was Ruoye crawling toward him before Xie Lian closed the door, leaving him alone in the corridor.

The next morning, he woke up early. Groggily checking his phone, he saw that it was only 5:03. With a grunt, he tried closing his eyes again, but his mind couldn’t stop thinking about Jun Wu.

In the end, at 5:28, he gave up on sleep and got up in a fool mood to get dressed. They hadn’t had time to discuss much of anything about the plan yesterday, but Wu Ming thought it was safe enough to assume that Xie Lian wouldn’t need him before at least 8.

“I don’t need you! You’re useless!”

He closed his eyes and breathed out. Since he didn’t have anything to do, he might as well go to the gym in the South wing. Maybe that would help him release some steam. So, he grabbed a large black tank top and some random joggers, and left, forgetting his phone on the nightstand.

When he arrived, the gym was thankfully empty. He felt like hitting something. Whether it was Jun Wu or himself, he wasn’t sure. Most likely both. But he settled for a punching bag that was hanging in a corner of the room.

Throwing punch after punch, he lost track of time, slowly losing awareness of his surroundings.

Punch. Kick. Punch. Punch. Kick. Punch–

Jab. Cross. Hook. Uppercut–

Punch–

It took some raucous laughter ringing out right next to him to realize that he wasn’t alone anymore. And it took him a few blinks for the room to come back into focus. From what he could see, the gym was now hosting about two dozen men, scattered in every corner, talking and laughing with each other.

How did I not hear them? he asked himself with bewilderment before coming to another realization. Shit. If that many people were here, that meant that some time must have passed.

He immediately reached for his phone to check the hour, but after searching his two pockets and coming back empty-handed, he realized that he must had left it in his room. He let out an audible grunt before turning around, ready to jog back to his bedroom, hopping that Xie Lian hadn’t tried to contact him, when he collided with the exact same man that he was worrying about.

“Ouch.”

He blinked once more. This time he was sure that he hadn’t heard any noise coming from behind him. Had Xie Lian just been standing there–?

The man in question loudly cleared his throat, his face slightly red. He wasn’t looking at him in the eyes. In fact, his gaze was travelling around his body.

Wu Ming looked down at himself and only now realized that he was drenched in sweat, his clothes and the few hair strands that had escaped from his ponytail clinging to his body.

He took a step back, discreetly trying to sniff himself. Oh no, please don’t tell me that I smell. I already look gross enough! he whined in his head.

Xie Lian folded his arms. “What were you doing? I’ve been trying to call you!” he berated him, his voice cracking a little.

Wu Ming didn’t know how to interpret his expression, but he sounded upset enough. “I’m sorry. I– I forgot my phone and I lost track of time.”

“Tsk, whatever. Just go take a shower.” Xie Lian finally tore his eyes away from his body, hiding the lower part of his face behind his hand.

Ah. So he did stink.

“Right. Sorry.” Wu Ming quickly redid his ponytail, trying to look slightly more put together. “Hum, what time is it?” He hoped he hadn’t made Xie Lian wait for too long.

“7:40,” he answered before adding, “You’re fine. I mean the time is– You’re not late.” He coughed. “You don’t have to hurry. I was just wondering where you were and since you weren’t answering I got a bit… Anyway. Just come see me when you’re done.” And with that, he turned around and walked away.

Wu Ming stood rooted to the spot. With a sigh he thought, Good job. You pissed him off. Again.

At 8:09, Wu Ming knocked at Xie Lian’s door.

“Come in.”

Xie Lian was sitting cross-legged on his bed, holding Ruoye in his arms with a tense expression. The snake was calmly crawling around his hands and biceps, as if trying to appease him. He raised his little white head when Wu Ming entered the room, flickering his pink forked tongue at him.

Xie Lian glanced at Wu Ming before focusing back on Ruoye.

Sensing that he didn’t want to start the conversation, Wu Ming tried to ask, “Are you o–”

“I’ve already done some recon around Jun Wu’s office,” Xie Lian interrupted him, his voice too monotonous to be anything else than faked calmness. “The door is always locked, and there’s a security camera monitoring the entrance when he isn’t there. But when he is, the camera gets turned off. Instead, two guards are stationed outside the door.”

Indeed, Wu Ming had noticed the guards the one time they went to the office, though admittedly, he hadn’t paid as much attention as he should have to his surroundings at that time.

Wu Ming frowned, leaning against the table next to the bed. “So you’re saying the only way in is when he’s in there?”

“Yes,” Xie Lian replied. “The door will be unlocked. The guards won’t leave their post unless Jun Wu orders them to. That’s where I come in.”

Wu Ming’s frown deepened. “What’s your plan?”

Xie Lian paused for a few seconds too long before answering in the same voice, “I’ll distract him. Enough to get him out of the office and have him dismiss the guards. Once he’s out, you’ll slip inside. The office is enormous. You should have enough room to maneuver without being noticed.”

Wu Ming’s arms were crossed, he tried to keep his expression blank, but his face still showed a blend of skepticism and frustration.

“And when he goes back inside?” Wu Ming pressed instead of yelling at Xie Lian to not endanger himself. “What if I’m still in there?”

Xie Lian’s expression hardened slightly. “That’s my responsibility. I’ll make sure to keep him occupied long enough for you to finish and get out. And when he’ll return inside, I’ll make sure he doesn’t see you.”

Wu Ming let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “This plan relies on too many things going right,” he muttered. “You’re putting yourself too close to him. Jun Wu…”

With a sharp look, Xie Lian shut him up. “We don’t have a better option. The information we need is in that office.”

“Hopefully. We’re not even sure it is.”

Xie Lian didn’t answer. They both knew that it was a possibility. But they had to believe that they would find the information they needed. They had to.

Wu Ming’s fists clenched. He hated this plan, hated the thought of Xie Lian being alone with Jun Wu, hated the risk. “Fine,” he conceded.

Xie Lian’s lips quirked into a small, barely there, smile for a few seconds before it disappeared again. “Jun Wu should be in his office this afternoon. Are you ready?”

Wu Ming took a deep breath, forcing his unease down. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s get this over with.”

Xie Lian nodded, his expression steady but resolute.

Wu Ming pressed himself against the wall of the dimly lit corridor. There wasn’t a single window at that side of the building. The plan gnawed at him. Distract Jun Wu? He’d rather storm the office guns blazing than let Xie Lian face the man’s sleazy gaze.

Silently, he slipped through the shadows, careful not to enter the field of vision of the various cameras along the way. Two guards stood at the office door, their postures rigid. From his vantage point, Wu Ming saw Xie Lian approach them with calm confidence, his every movement precise and deliberate.

As they exchanged a few words, Xie Lian’s manner was disarming. One guard knocked on the office door, then stepped aside as Jun Wu emerged, his sharp suit pristine under the dim hallway lights. Wu Ming’s fists clenched at the sight of him, but he stayed hidden, waiting.

Xie Lian inclined his head, his voice light but pointed. “I have a matter that requires your immediate attention. Perhaps we could speak somewhere more... private?”

Jun Wu assessed him carefully with a smile.  “How intriguing. Please come inside, Xianle.”

But Xie Lian didn’t move. Instead, he pointedly looked at Jun Wu then at the guards, silently asking him to dismiss them.

Jun Wu’s predatory smile widened. He turned to his guards, waving them off with casual authority. “Leave us alone.”

They hesitated but ultimately nodded, walking away to give their boss and Xie Lian privacy. As they passed by him, Xie Lian stepped backward, moving further away from the door under the guise of letting the guards past.

When they disappeared around the corner, Jun Wu slowly approached Xie Lian, getting so close that he was almost pining him against the wall.

As the sleazy man drew away from the door with his back turned to him, Wu Ming saw his opening. The door to the office was left ajar, just as Xie Lian had predicted. Still, he didn’t immediately rush inside. His hand instinctively found his gun, his finger placing itself on the trigger. He could just shoot him here and now…

Xie Lian looked his way, his eyes immediately finding his own, his gaze hard and rebuking.

The eye contact only lasted a second to not attract Jun Wu’s attention, but Wu Ming got the message loud and clear nonetheless: Stick to the plan and hurry!

With a silent curse, he put his gun back at his belt. Xie Lian was right. As soon as Wu Ming found the info they needed, they would be able to leave and put some distance between Xie Lian and Jun Wu.

Wu Ming moved swiftly and silently, slipping into the office without a sound. Inside, the room was as vast as he remembered, almost excessive in its luxury. White marble gleamed under harsh lights, a desk covered in neatly arranged folders and a sleek monitor dominating the space. On the right, there was another door, ajar, leading to a secondary room. He scanned the place quickly but didn’t immediately spot what he was looking for.

Fighting the urge to panic, he began methodically opening drawers. The top drawers were mostly empty, save for stationary and a few innocuous files. He frowned. It wouldn’t be this easy. Moving to the lower cabinets, he found binders labeled with cryptic codes. He flipped one open, only to find what looked like financial records—important, but not the intel they were after.

Wu Ming could still hear Xie Lian’s and Jun Wu’s conversation. He was wearing an earpiece connected to a microphone hidden under Xie Lian’s shirt.

“Isn’t the boy with you? Ah, what was his name again?” Jun Wu asked, pretending to think about it.

Xie Lian didn’t grant him an answer.

“Mn. I thought he trailed you everywhere you went like a dog.” He kept his tone light, but didn’t hold back his words.

“He would have been a hinder to the discussion,” Xie Lian answered evasively.

“Would he have now?”

Wu Ming had insisted upon being able to hear Xie Lian at any moment, so that if anything went wrong, he would know it immediately. Xie Lian had initially been against it, but had finally relented since it would also help Wu Ming know where Jun Wu was.

Suddenly, his gaze darted to the bookshelf on the far wall. It was filled with heavy, leather-bound volumes. A false front? He moved to inspect, tapping lightly against the spines. One sounded hollow. Bingo. He tugged at it, revealing a hidden compartment behind. Inside were folders stamped with the same codes he’d seen in the cabinets, along with a tablet. He powered it on and found it locked behind multiple layers of security.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. He pulled out his flash drive, plugging it into the tablet’s port. A decryption program began working, but it was agonizingly slow. Wu Ming’s ears stayed tuned to the faint echoes of conversation outside the door, his fingers drumming impatiently against the desk.

Finally, the program pinged. He opened the decrypted files and scanned through them. Jackpot. A detailed list of locations and aliases, all tied to Jun Wu’s operations. He transferred everything onto the flash drive, the minutes ticking by like hours. As he worked, he kept glancing toward the door, his nerves on edge.

Just as the transfer neared completion, some rustling sound came from his earpiece, followed by Jun Wu’s voice. It sounded closer to the microphone. “You’re being unusually cryptic, Xianle. I can’t help but wonder what you’re really after.”

Wu Ming’s pulse quickened. Xie Lian’s measured response followed, calm but firm. “I thought it best to discuss sensitive matters away from prying ears. Surely you understand.”

“Come in then. We’ll assuredly be more comfortable in my office than in the corridor.”

The transfer completed with a soft beep. Wu Ming yanked the flash drive free and pocketed it, his eyes scanning the room for a hiding spot. The office’s size worked to his advantage; a tall cabinet in the corner provided just enough cover. He slipped behind it, pressing himself against the wall as the office door swung open.

Jun Wu entered, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. Xie Lian stepped into the room behind him.

The door closed behind them with a threatening click. “So tell me, Xianle, why are you really here? Was it truly to talk?”

Xie Lian’s stance remained relaxed as Jun Wu approached once again, but Wu Ming could see the tension in his movements from his concealed position. He held his breath, every muscle taut, waiting for the right moment. Before the conversation could escalate, a sharp knock interrupted them.

“Shan Chu, it’s Ming Guang,” came a voice from the corridor. “I need a moment.”

Jun Wu’s irritation was palpable, though he masked it quickly. “Enter,” he called.

The door opened, and Pei Ming’s brisk, authoritative tone filled the room. “Sorry to interrupt, Shan Chu, but this can’t wait.”

“Can’t it?” Jun Wu’s voice was edged with annoyance.

“No,” Pei Ming said firmly. “I really need a file for Shui Shi.”

His eyes scanned the room, pausing briefly on Xie Lian. Wu Ming watched as Pei Ming’s gaze lingered just long enough to register the tension in Xie Lian’s posture, his proximity with Jun Wu and the way his body was slightly angled away from him.

“Actually,” Pei Ming added after a pause. “He also wants to see you. Immediately. There seems to be a problem with the crops.”

The crops? Must be a code name for something.

Another beat of silence, heavy with unspoken resistance. Then Jun Wu relented, though his displeasure was evident. “Very well. Xianle, we’ll continue our conversation later.”

Wu Ming could almost feel Xie Lian’s relief as he inclined his head. “Of course.”

As Jun Wu turned to address Pei Ming, Xie Lian pretended to inadvertently knock into a bookcase, causing multiple files to scatter on the floor. The two men immediately fixed their gaze on him, and Wu Ming used the distraction and Xie Lian’s loud apologies to slip out of the office and into the safety of the shadows.

He counted the seconds before Xie Lian finally exited the room too and joined him a few corridors away.

They didn’t say anything until they were back in Xie Lian’s room, but Wu Ming could see the tension ease from Xie Lian’s shoulders the further they moved away from the office.

When they finally found themselves alone under Ruoye’s scrutiny, Wu Ming handed Xie Lian the flash drive.

Xie Lian’s lips curved into a small, weary smile. “Good work, Wu Ming.”

Wu Ming’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary before letting out a breath and looking away. “… I can’t believe I’m saying that, but we should thank Pei Ming for giving us an opportunity to leave. Clearly, even him thought that Jun Wu’s behavior towards you was–”

“We have what we need.,” Xie Lian interrupted him. “Let’s focus on that.”

Reluctantly, Wu Ming nodded, though his jaw remained tight. The plan had worked, but how many times could Xie Lian expose himself to danger before something happened?

Next time, he told himself, there’d be no compromise.

Chapter Text

Black Water hummed thoughtfully, her fingers tapping an irregular rhythm against the keyboard. The sound filled the heavy silence in the room, echoing off the cold concrete walls. No one dared interrupt her as the screen in front of her cast an eerie bluish glow over her face.

Wu Ming shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his boots scuffing faintly against the floor. His stomach churned with unease. What if she told them that the information they gathered was useless? What if she told them that he failed? That he endangered Xie Lian for nothing? What if–

Black Water's voice cut short his derailing thoughts. “Seems legit.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted in an instant. The air, thick with tension moments ago, now felt lighter as an audible wave of relief washed over the group.

“How did you get that file?” Shi Qingxuan asked, her voice laced with awe as she leaned forward, curiosity practically radiating from her.

“It doesn't matter,” Xie Lian answered curly. His voice was calm, but the sharpness in his tone silenced any further probing. Shi Qingxuan tilted her head, clearly curious, but even she could sense that pushing him for answers wouldn't end well. Instead, she turned to Wu Ming with a questioning gaze.

He just shrugged, feigning nonchalance though his hands were tightly clasped behind his back. Black Water caught the subtle exchange and arched a brow, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. Still, she let it slide, returning her attention to the monitor.

“I'll send some people on recon.”

“I want to come,” Xie Lian said, his voice firm and resolute.

“No,” Black Water immediately refused as she turned to face him fully. “This is too important to fuck up. I can’t have you ruin this so close to the goal.”

“You’re only so close to the goal thanks to us,” Xie Lian retorted sharply, his calm veneer cracking and his expression hardening.

Black Water’s lips curled into a humorless smile. “Look, it was already a bad idea for the two of you to come here. I don’t know what you did exactly, but there’s no way it didn’t arise Jun Wu’s suspicions,” she explained. “You should keep a low profile for now.”

Shi Qingxuan stepped in, her diplomatic tone trying to smooth over the growing tension. “You can come to the strategic meeting if it’ll reassure you.”

“No,” Black Water interjected, shutting the idea down immediately, “if you don’t trust Nether Water to handle this, that’s your problem not mine.”

“Maybe if you were more competent, we would trust you more,” Wu Ming mumbled.

Everyone in the room turned to look at him.

“What did you say?” Black Water asked, her voice low and dangerous.

He… hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He knew Xie Lian didn't want him to draw attention to himself when dealing with people as dangerous as Black Water, but he wasn’t going to take it back.

He straightened his posture, meeting her glare head-on. “We did in a day what you couldn’t in years,” Wu Ming said coldly. “What does that say about you?”

A chair screeched against the floor as Black Water rose abruptly. The air around her seemed to crackle with menace as she stalked toward him. She kicked the chair out of her way, the loud clatter making everyone flinch.

“Who do you shit you are, you little shit!” she hissed, her voice venomous.

Before Wu Ming could respond, Xie Lian stepped in, putting himself squarely between the two of them. “Don’t talk to him like that!” he spat at Black Water.

Her glare flickered to Xie Lian, her rage momentarily redirected. For a moment, it seemed as if the situation might escalate further.

“Okayy!” Shi Qingxuan said loudly, clapping her hands together in a desperate attempt to break the tension. “Let’s all take a deep breath, huh?” She rummaged in her pocket and pulled out a small paper bag. “I have some watermelon seeds. Who want some?”

At first, it seemed like Black Water might lash out again, her gaze still locked on Xie Lian with a silent promise of retribution. But then her eyes flicked to the bag of seeds.

Without a word, she snatched it out of Shi Qingxuan’s hand and began eating, popping seeds into her mouth with a speed that bordered on aggressive.

Shi Qingxuan sighed in relief, though her expression still held a trace of exasperation.

“As I was saying,” she began again, her voice lighter now, “you can come to the meeting.”

The meeting itself turned out to be painfully boring. A nameless woman in a black suit stood at the front of the room, flipping through an uninspired PowerPoint presentation. The slides consisted mostly of grainy exterior shots of the hospital, which could have been pulled straight from Google Earth for all anyone knew.

She listed off a few dry statistics—square footage, the year it was built, an approximate headcount of staff—but offered little else. No stories, no context. Just numbers and photos that seemed deliberately mundane. Nothing worth listening to.

No, the interesting part of the meeting was the other participants. They had been quickly introduced before the presentation began, and it seemed Black Water had quite the habit of taking in strays.

The most surprising must have been the woman casually wearing a red and gold qipao and that was currently playing with the metal band on her ring finger—if Wu Ming was honest, it didn’t look like a wedding ring at all, but it seemed like she wanted people to believe it was.

That woman turned out to be Xuan Ji, the ex-Green Lantern red pole that apparently now held a grudge against Pei Ming. Wu Ming had no idea why Black Water thought it was a good idea to keep her around. Especially considering that so far, her only contribution to the meeting had been to call Pei Ming a “treacherous pig”.

What Shi Qingxuan said about her had been: “She used Pei Ming as much as he used her. She might have important information!”

There had been no proof of that yet.

But what was all the more surprising was that she apparently wasn’t the only one who had some sort of history with Pei Ming. The two teenagers on the other side of the table also had some connection with him. The girl—introduced earlier as Banyue— was furiously typing on her laptop with a very serious face. She was dressed in a purple hoodie, baggy pants, and was wearing a few moon-themed silver jewelry. With that style, she didn’t look like she could be older than 16.

Wu Ming couldn’t tell what she was doing on her computer, but given the persistent frown on her face and the utter lack of interesting information from the presentation, it certainly wasn’t taking notes.

Next to her sat a boy who looked only a year or two older than her. Pei Xiu. He seemed boring enough to Wu Ming. And definitely more focused on Banyue than on the presentation.

“They grew up together,” Shi Qingxuan whispered, leaning forward with barely contained excitement, as if she were about to unveil the juiciest gossip in the room. “Banyue was the daughter of a low-ranking Wuyong officer. Nothing fancy, but her dad was loyal—one of those who do all the dirty work no one else wants to touch. And Pei Xiu—well, you can guess who he was, right? Pei Ming’s nephew. You’d think they’d have nothing in common, but…”

Shi Qingxuan trailed off, her eyes sparkling with the kind of delight reserved for storytellers who know they’ve hooked their audience.

“They were inseparable,” she continued, her tone softening. “Banyue thought of him as her best friend, maybe even her brother. But Pei Xiu? He loved her. Not in the friendly way. The real way, you know?”

Wu Ming raised an eyebrow. “The real way?”

Shi Qingxuan waved him off impatiently. “Don’t interrupt!” she said a bit too loudly. Xuan Ji gave them a nasty look, but Shi Qingxuan ignored her and lowered her voice once more.

“Anyway, Pei Xiu never said anything, of course. Banyue never noticed. She had other things on her mind. Her dad was everything to her, and Wuyong wasn’t exactly the kind of place where you could let your guard down. But then…” Shi Qingxuan’s voice dropped further, her expression growing somber.

“Her dad died on a mission. No glory, no honor—just one of those things that happen when you work for people like Jun Wu. And then, out of nowhere, her mom showed up! Turns out, Banyue’s mom wasn’t dead like her dad told her. She was living a whole different life, far away from Wuyong. She’d been looking for Banyue for years, but her dad wouldn’t let her go. And now that he was gone, she came to take her back. Said she wanted Banyue to have a better life, away from all the violence and blood.”

Wu Ming frowned slightly. “I guess that didn’t end well.”

Shi Qingxuan scoffed. “Of course not. Do you think anyone leaves Wuyong without consequences? Pei Ming was sent after them. Caught up to them not long after they left. He killed the mom.”

She stopped talking for a few seconds momentarily weighed down by the memory of it.

“Pei Ming would’ve killed Banyue too. But Pei Xiu got in the way. Saved her life, and they ran.” She paused, shaking her head as if the thought still amazed her. “Can you imagine? They were just kids, you know? No money, no plan, nothing but each other. And then…” She glanced toward Black Water before finishing. “He-xiong found them. Took them in. They’ve been here ever since. It’s so sad to see kids this young around. They’ll never get their childhood back.”

For a moment, no one spoke. The room felt heavy with the weight of Shi Qingxuan’s story. Even she seemed subdued now, her usual energy dimmed.

Wu Ming shifted in his seat. He didn’t consider himself a kid. Far from it. Life had stripped that from him long ago. But as he stared at the floor, the truth pressed on his mind: he wasn’t much older than Pei Xiu or Banyue. Not really.

His thoughts wandered, unbidden, toward Xie Lian. When all of this was over—if it ever ended—what would be left for them? Would he even be allowed to dream of a simple life? A life free from the endless violence and suffering that had followed him for as long as he could remember?

He could picture it, faintly, like a blurry painting just out of reach. No riches. No grandeur. Nothing fancy. Just the two of them, tucked away in some forgotten corner of the world. They could live in poverty, and Wu Ming wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t need anything, not as long as Xie Lian was there.

But the image faltered. The more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. Would Xie Lian even want that?

No. Of course not.

Why would he want someone like Wu Ming to stick around? Someone weighed down by too much blood, reminding him of his past wounds. Xie Lian deserved better—better than a nobody with nothing to offer but scarred hands and a troubled past.

The thought stung more than he cared to admit. He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms, trying to chase away the ache blooming in his chest. There was no use thinking about a life he could never have.

Still, as Shi Qingxuan’s voice faded, the image lingered in the back of his mind. A stubborn, fragile hope he couldn’t quite let go of.

The rest of the meeting passed in a blur, voices droning on in the background like static. Nothing interesting was said, and Wu Ming found himself tuning it all out, his mind wandering.

For a moment, he thought about how grateful he was to have never gone to school. He imagined this was what lectures were like: dull, tedious affairs where someone talked endlessly at you, expecting you to care. He stifled a yawn and glanced at the notebook in front of him. A thin, blank thing with crisp white pages, identical to the ones placed in front of everyone else. Beside it, a cheap pen that no one had touched.

Without thinking, he picked up the pen and began to doodle. His hand moved almost on its own, lines and curves taking shape until a flower appeared on the page, just a simple sketch of a camellia, its petals rounded and soft. Then another. And another. Soon, the page began to fill with them, a quiet little garden growing in the midst of the meeting's monotony.

He didn’t notice Xie Lian watching until he felt a presence beside him. Wu Ming glanced up and froze. Xie Lian’s gaze was fixed on the notebook, his expression unreadable, though there was a faint flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

Heat rushed to Wu Ming’s face, and he immediately dropped the pen, snapping the notebook shut as if it might somehow erase what Xie Lian had seen.

Xie Lian didn’t say anything. He just tilted his head slightly, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips before he turned his attention back to the discussion.

Wu Ming stared at the closed notebook, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt foolish, like a child caught doing something he shouldn’t. The meeting’s dull hum continued around him, but he couldn’t bring himself to pick up the pen again.

Instead, he clasped his hands in his lap, his fingers twitching slightly as if they missed the motion.

The woman droned on, her voice blending into a monotonous hum that seemed to press down on the room like a heavy somniferous fog. Wu Ming’s gaze drifted back to the closed notebook, the edges of its white pages mocking him. His fingers itched to pick up the pen again. But Xie Lian had seen, and now a strange self-consciousness had rooted itself firmly in his chest.

In moments of quiet or tension, his hands sought movement, and sketching had become a habit. Still, having Xie Lian witness it felt oddly intimate, as though he had unintentionally revealed something fragile and unguarded.

A faint pulse of warmth lingered from the brief smile Xie Lian had offered. It was nothing, really—just a fleeting expression—but Wu Ming’s mind clung to it. How could a mere glance unravel him so thoroughly?

Sighing softly, Wu Ming pushed the notebook further away, as though distance could erase his embarrassment.

He forced himself to focus on the meeting.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity the woman giving the presentation stopped talking. How she talked for so long while giving so little information was a mystery.

There was a collective exhale in the room, the tension shifting as Black Water stood up and took over without preamble. She had a commanding presence, which was a relief after the monotone droning of the previous speaker.

“All right,” Black Water began, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “We’re sending in a recon team first. We can’t act until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. We’ll cover the perimeter, identify points of entry, and confirm any security measures—physical or otherwise. I don’t care if it takes a day or a week. We’re getting intel before anyone moves further.”

Shi Qingxuan raised a hand like a student in class. “Are we expecting heavy resistance?”

“Of course. The hospital appeared to be open to the public, but this is Wuyong we are talking about,” Black Water answered. “Still, we won’t engage unless absolutely necessary.”

There were murmurs of agreement around the room.

Black Water continued, “We’ll send two teams. One to map the inside if they can get in, the other to watch from the outside. Banyue, you’ll coordinate the perimeter surveillance.”

The girl nodded seriously. “Yes, boss.”

Black Water’s gaze swept across the room, landing briefly on Xie Lian and Wu Ming. Her eyes narrowed.

“And you two, as I said before, stay out of this for now. We can’t afford unnecessary risks.”

Xie Lian opened his mouth to argue, but Black Water cut him off with a sharp glare.

“I mean it,” she said. “You’ve already drawn enough attention. I don’t care how skilled you are—we can’t have Jun Wu sniffing around any more than he already is.”

Wu Ming clenched his fists under the table, biting back the urge to protest. He didn’t like being sidelined like this, but Black Water had a point. And if it took Xie Lian away from the front lines, all the better.

The room fell into silence again as the weight of the mission settled over them. Black Water’s voice was cold but resolute as she delivered the final words.

“We’re doing this smart, or we’re not doing it at all.”

And with that, the meeting was over.

Back at the Wuyong headquarters, Xie Lian and Wu Ming stopped by one of the canteens to have a late lunch. The place was modest but bustling, filled with the clatter of plates and the hum of conversation despite it being almost 3pm.

Xie Lian still appeared bitter from having been left out, and Wu Ming wasn’t sure what to tell him to make him feel better, leaving the two in a heavy silence.

As they looked for somewhere to sit, weaving through the crowded space, they passed by a man slumped over a table near the back corner. The sight was enough to make Wu Ming pause. The man made quite a pathetic figure—head resting on his folded arms, shoulders hunched in complete defeat. His face wasn’t visible, buried beneath messy black hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in days, but it looked like he was sleeping. Yet, surrounding him were three empty cups of coffee, their rims stained dark, forming a sad halo around his head. A few scattered papers littered the table, some crumpled as though they’d been gripped in frustration.

“Leave him be,” Xie Lian said, nudging Wu Ming toward an empty table nearby.

They sat down and settled their plates in front of them. The aroma of fried rice and grilled vegetables wafting from the food made Wu Ming’s stomach silently gurgle, so he eagerly dug in, savoring the first few bites. The warm, savory flavors were a welcome distraction from the tension of the day. But by the time he was halfway through his plate, a panicked “Ah!” came from behind him.

Turning around, he saw that the man from before had woke up and was frantically staring at his watch. That’s when Wu Ming finally recognized him. It was the Straw Sandal, Yin Yu.

Panicking, the man looked around himself in a frenzy until his eyes settled on Wu Ming and Xie Lian, his expression immediately changing to one of relief.

“Ah, thanks god you’re here!” he exclaimed as he swiftly got up and walked up to them. “I was looking for you,” he said, running his hand through his hair, trying as best he could to fix it. “Shan Chu assigned you some missions. If you could finish to eat quickly so we can discuss them somewhere else, it would be appreciated.”

Wu Ming let out a silent sigh, casting a longing look at his plate. With a resigned gulp, he shoveled the remaining vegetables into his mouth in one go. Beside him, Xie Lian’s expression tightened, but he obediently picked up his chopsticks and hurried through the rest of his meal as well.

Yin Yu almost ran back to his table, shoving papers into a battered briefcase with barely contained frenzy.

When the straw sandal was finished, they all promptly left the canteen and headed towards one of the offices in the east wing. The hallways were quieter here, the noise from the open area fading into a muffled hum.

Once inside a small, sparsely decorated office in mainly white tones, Yin Yu set his briefcase on the table and opened it with a determined click. He pulled out two sets of documents and handed one to Xie Lian, the other to Wu Ming.

“Dianxia, you’ve been assigned to a mission with Ming Guang,” Yin Yu began, his voice steadier now that he was back in familiar territory. The awkwardness from before had dissipated, replaced by the crisp professionalism of someone delivering bad news. “There’s been increased activity from Green Lantern, and we need to neutralize the threat before it escalates.”

Wu Ming’s stomach tightened. He had a sinking feeling about this. As much as Qi Rong was an incompetent idiot, he had penchant for ambushes and collateral damage. If a full fight broke out, it could be dangerous.

“I’m going too,” he said sharply before Xie Lian could respond.

“That’s not possible,” Yin Yu replied with a grimace. “Your mission is separate. And Dianxia won’t be alone anyway, he’ll have a whole team with him. So there’s no need to worry.”

Xie Lian’s eyes darkened. “What mission?”

Yin Yu turned to Wu Ming. “Debt collection. It shouldn’t be dangerous—it’s more about negotiation and presence than actual combat. I’ll be going with you.”

Debt collection? Wu Ming frowned. It sounded insultingly mundane compared to Xie Lian’s mission, but that wasn’t the problem. It was the separation that gnawed at him, sharp and unyielding. Jun Wu was doing this on purpose. But then why give the dangerous mission to Xie Lian? If he wanted to get rid of Wu Ming, he should have assigned them the opposite missions.

Xie Lian’s jaw clenched. “Wu Ming is not going on a mission without me.”

Wu Ming couldn’t help the little flip his stomach did at Xie Lian’s dark, possessive voice, the raw finality in his tone. Warmth crept up his face despite the tension, and it took effort to keep his expression neutral. But guilt quickly followed. Xie Lian shouldn’t feel like Wu Ming needed his constant protection.

Yin Yu blinked, looking genuinely baffled. “Well... I... this really is a low-risk mission, I swear. Just some talks.”

Xie Lian’s expression didn’t soften.

“You don’t have a choice,” Yin Yu added more seriously. His voice took on a steelier tone, reminding them both that his hands were tied. “These are Shan Chu’s orders. I’m afraid I can’t just give the assignment to someone else.”

Wu Ming’s frustration simmered just beneath the surface. The idea of Xie Lian heading into a dangerous mission without him gnawed at his insides. He wanted to fight it, to demand a different arrangement, but there was no room to argue. Realistically, he knew that Xie Lian could handle himself, but still, it didn’t sit well with him.

Xie Lian’s thoughts seemed to mirror his own. His lips thinned, tension radiating from every part of his body. “I don’t like this,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do about it, Dianxia.” Yin Yu looked genuinely apologetic.

Xie Lian's gaze sharpened into something deadly serious. He took a step closer to Yin Yu, his voice low and unwavering. Looking at him straight in the eyes, he told him, “I’ll take you on your word. You better keep him safe.”

Wu Ming’s breath caught. He wasn’t used to anyone speaking about his safety with that kind of unwavering conviction.

“I promise,” Yin Yu said, but with Xie Lian’s dark gaze still fixed on him, he started to shift awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the tension. “Look, I know neither of you is happy about this, but it’s not forever. Just handle your assignments, and we’ll regroup afterwards.”

The two reluctantly nodded, though the uneasy weight of the conversation lingered between them.

Little more was said before they parted ways in heavy silence, Wu Ming’s steps slower than usual. As they walked toward opposite exits, he glanced back at Xie Lian one last time, worry gnawing at him. The image of Xie Lian heading off with Pei Ming into a fight that could spiral out of control settled in his chest like a stone.

Chapter Text

Yin Yu wasn’t particularly talkative, and it suited Wu Ming just fine. He certainly wasn’t in the mood to exchange pleasantries with a Wuyong officer. He did observe him closely though.

They got into a car, a driver taking them wherever they needed to go, and the straw sandal didn't look up from his phone once, his fingers flying over the screen, completely absorbed by what Wu Ming supposed was more work. Ah, he was glad he himself hadn’t been given any paperwork to do so far.

He looked out the window, trying to figure out where they were going, when his phone buzzed. Immediately he scrambled – in a very dignified way – to take it out from his pocket. He had, after all, basically only one number saved on his phone.

Dianxia (15:47):   Keep me updated.

Wu Ming smiled at his phone. Realistically, he knew that what Xie Lian cared about was the mission and what Yin Yu and he were going to do. But a selfish and greedy part of him wanted to pretend that Xie Lian wished to know how he was doing because he cared about him.

Feeling eyes on him, Wu Ming looked up from his phone and turned to Yin Yu who was staring at him strangely. “What?”

“Nothing. I’ve never seen you smile before.”

Wu Ming raised a brow. It’s not like he’d seen him a lot, so why was he acting so surprised? But before the conversation could continue, Yin Yu’s own phone pinged, and he immediately threw himself back into his work.

Humph.

Wu Ming also went back to his phone. He took more time to type his answer that he would have wanted, slowly enunciating the words in his head as he was writing them, his lips soundlessly forming the words, as he tried to take his time to not mix his letters. It was endlessly frustrating, and he would have much rather used the speech-to-text function, but with Yin Yu right next to him, it wasn’t really an option. Still, he was grateful to whoever invented pinyin keyboards. Having to draw the hanzi himself would have been hell.

Me (15:52):   Alright. We’re in a car right now. I don’t know where we are going. I’ll send a message when we arrive.

He hesitated to add something more. He desperately wanted to ask Xie Lian to keep him updated too on his own mission with Pei Ming – not that it’d make him worry any less – but he didn’t dare. He didn’t want to come off as needy or to distract Xie Lian while he was working on a dangerous mission.

Read. (15:52)

Three little dots appeared in the chat before disappearing just as fast. Then reappearing. Then disappearing again. Wu Ming waited for a few minutes with a batted breath for Xie Lian to say something else, but after the third time his phone’s screen had turned black and the dots still hadn’t come back, Wu Ming let out a silent disappointed sigh and put his phone away.

Looking out of the window, watching the city buildings blur together, he noticed that they were now driving through a notorious neighborhood. He had spent some time around this part of the town before, working a few under-the-counter jobs.

Who were they going to see? What kind of debt could they be collecting? Protection money? Maybe Wuyong owned an illegal gambling ring like Qi Rong? Or was it some loan sharking?

“We’re almost here,” Yin Yu interrupted his thoughts, clearing his throat. Wu Ming turned to look at him. “You won’t have to do much once we arrive. Hopefully nothing at all. I will talk to the owner alone and I will call you if I need you.” He sighed. “My usual partner has a tendency to pick up fights whenever he can. Please don’t be like him and just stay put.”

“Why isn’t he here?” Wu Ming questioned. Did something happen to him?

“Qi Ying has been sent to help Ming Guang with his mission,” Yin Yu answered with an undecipherable expression.

So some random guy had been dismissed from his glorified bodyguard duty to help but Wu Ming was cast aside? If they really had needed to rally everyone to fight, that meant that the mission was even more dangerous than he thought. His phone burnt a hole in his pocket. He should check on Xie Lian.

Trying to not let his worry appear on his face, he spat bitterly, “I could have helped too.”

“I know. It really wasn’t my decision to have you here. I’m sorry,” Yin Yu calmly answered, trying to appease him. “But I’m sure your boyfriend will be fine.”

Wu Ming choked on air. He was the second person to clock him. Was he being that obvious?

“He isn’t my boyfriend!” he bristled. “Don’t insult him!” Xie Lian’s name should not be slandered like that. How could Yin Yu think that Xie Lian would stoop to, what?, date him? He would never sink that low. It hurt to think about it. He deserved so much better than a deformed, homeless ragamuffin, weighed down by blood and violence, who only knew how to fight.

Yin Yu watched him with a confused look, at a loss. “I wasn’t–Never mind, I apologize. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Wu Ming grunted. He resorted to watching the shabby shops pass by the car to clear his mind.

Not another word was exchanged between the two for the remaining 15mn of the ride, the atmosphere awkward.

It was a relief to step out of the car and he took a deep breath of fresh air. Or, well, not that fresh, as he found out. There was a strong, acidic, sent of smoke, perfume and…something else lingering in the air, immediately giving him a headache.

With a frown, he took a good look at his surroundings. They had stopped in front of a building in surprisingly good condition. Not that it was particularly good, but at least its brick walls were mostly clean, and the whole structure didn’t look like it would collapse at any time, unlike the rest of the neighborhood.

However, with the red and pink hues, the neon, the lustful music leaking from the edifice and into the street, the crowd of exclusively lecherous-looking men coming in and out of the building, and the two scantily clothed women at the entrance trying to lure people inside, it was painfully obvious what kind of establishment this was.

That did nothing to ease Wu Ming’s frown. He had no desire to go inside that building.

It’s the middle of the afternoon. How come there’s that many people? he distantly wondered.

Yin Yu walked up next to him. He was now wearing some sort of black-and-white crying demon mask covering his whole face. It made him look extremely out of place, but it certainly gave him more of a presence than he had before.

“Let’s go,” he said, climbing up the few stairs leading to the entrance. Wu Ming adjusted his own smiling demon mask–covering only the bottom half of his face–before following him.

The crowd parted ways to let them pass, staring at them warily while giving them a wide berth.

Wu Ming held back a cough as they crossed the threshold and walked inside. The air was stifling, thick with smoke, and the colored lights did nothing to appease his headache.

On each side of the hall were a reception desk, and right in front of them another door guarded by two bouncers. Yin Yu nodded to one of the receptionists and headed toward the two burly men. As soon as they saw him approaching, they opened the door for him.

Loud music assaulted Wu Ming’s senses as they entered what appeared to be some kind of bar. Sleazy men of all ages lounged on sofas or sipped on their drinks at the bar while owling the waitresses that were only wearing strips of fabric. Some even had women on their laps, shamelessly groping them with disgusting predatory smiles on their faces. It made it fairly obvious that the reason the music was so loud was to cover grunts and moans.

Fucking pigs.

Wu Ming glared at the whole scene so hard that Yin Yu had to drag him along to a hidden door in an alcove. The door opened onto dimly lit stairs. They swiftly climbed them to the second floor, took a few turns in the corridors, and finally arrived in a lounge, this time empty.

They had thankfully gotten away from the music and the lights were normal there. The room must have been airier than the others because the smell of smoke was also much less powerful. The corridor crossed the lounge area and kept going beyond, opening onto several doors.

Yin Yu made a vague hand gesture toward the banquettes lining the walls. “Wait for me here.”

Wu Ming nodded, carefully observing the straw sandal as he walked to the second door on the left and knocked sharply.

“Come in,” said a smoky voice. Yin Yu promptly disappeared inside.

Isn’t it weird though? Wu Ming thought. If his role was to protect the straw sandal, why was he left behind? Anything could happen while Yin Yu was alone, and there wasn’t much Wu Ming would be able to do.

Suspicious.

He decided to send a quick text to Xie Lian to let him know that they had arrived, though he didn’t know how much he could tell him in texts – after all, it was an absolute certainty that Wuyong was monitoring their messages – And neither did he know what he wanted to tell Xie Lian. He didn’t want to lie to him, but he couldn’t tell him that he was in a brothel!

He shook his head. No way, no! What if he thought– no!

He'll just… keep it vague. Yes, good plan.

‘We arrived. Yin Yu is talking to the owner. No problem so far.’ He hesitated before adding the last sentence. ‘Is everything going ok on Dianxia’s side too?’

His finger hovered above the ‘Send’ button. He didn’t want to seem needy or overbearing — Xie Lian had enough on his plate without Wu Ming pestering him. Yet, the gnawing worry pressed against his ribs like a blade. But if he didn't check in, wouldn’t that be worse? Wouldn’t it send the message that he didn’t care?

Wu Ming's breath caught in his throat. No. Xie Lian should never feel alone. Never. Even if there was only one person in this world who would remind him that he mattered, Wu Ming wouldn’t let that number drop to zero. Not as long as he was alive.

Resolve settled in his chest. He pressed ‘Send’.

Me (16:17):   We arrived. Yin Yu is talking to the owner. No problem so far. Is everything going ok on Dianxia’s side too?

And he immediately regretted it. Was it really alright? No. He sounded weird, didn’t he? Ah, it was stupid, he should just delete the message–

Read (16:17)

…

…Was Xie Lian on his phone? But even then, shouldn’t he have been busy doing, well, something on his phone? Had he been writing him a message? Did he take too much time to update Xie Lian? No. Xie Lian hadn’t been online a minute ago when he hit ‘Send’, he was certain of it.

Maybe he really was doing something else on his phone, and he clicked on the notification when it appeared on his screen by accident. Yes, that must have been it.

Wu Ming watched his phone carefully. Once again three dots appeared in the chat before disappearing. Again and again.

Eventually, he received one message.

Dianxia (16:17):   Yes.

And he went offline.

Was he mad? Did he make him uncomfortable? Wu Ming knew he shouldn’t have sent that text. He sighed, berating himself internally. He was being too clingy. And Xie Lian could take care of himself. Of course he could.

He debated apologizing but decided against it. No, that would only make things worse. Xie Lian clearly didn’t want to talk to him.

Forlornly, he put his phone in his pocket and refocused on his mission. Yin Yu was still in the other room. He looked around a little bit. There didn't seem to be any security cameras, which made sense for a brothel he supposed.

He quietly approached the door through which Yin Yu had disappeared. He could faintly hear two voices coming from the other side.

“So where’s the fluffy boy today?” an older feminine voice asked in a friendly tone. “I’m surprised he didn’t trail after you. I don’t think I ever saw you without him.”

Yin Yu let out a tired sigh. “Shan Chu sent him on a mission. It was quite a hassle to convince Qi Ying to go.”

Wu Ming frowned. They both sounded cordial and friendly. Not how you’d expect a creditor and a debtor to talk to each other.

“The boy’s a menace without you. Won’t it just make things harder for everyone? Why would Shan Chu want that?” It was very clear by the way she said his title that she didn’t hold Jun Wu dear in her heart.

“I’m not sure,” Yin Yu answered honestly. “I think he is expecting something to happen. But whatever it is, I don’t think it has anything to do with me or Qi Ying.”

And by that he means that it has everything to do with Xie Lian and me, Wu Ming thought.

“Hmm, I can only hope it doesn’t mean bad news for me and the girls. They already went through so much.” There was a heavy silence for a few seconds before she started talking again. “And who is the new guy? You don’t trust him? Is that why he didn’t come in with you?”

So Yin Yu was purposefully keeping him away.

“Not necessarily, no. I don’t think he likes Shan Chu very much”, he laughed a little. “I just don’t want to drag any outsider into this.”

‘This’?

“I see,” the other voice said, “well, that’s fine by me. But about the debt,” her tone turned serious, “I don’t have the money.”

“How much do you have?” Yin Yu calmly asked.

“I… barely half. 180. I tried.” Her voice now carried a more pleading note. “I really tried, but the girls are exhausted and they’re already working so hard, I don’t want to ask them to take more clients.”

180? 180 what? 180 000¥¹?

“It’s fine,” Yin Yu tried to reassure her.

“It’s not! I feel so bad for putting you in that position every month. But I… I don’t know what to do…”

Every month?! Wu Ming internally exclaimed. How did she come to owe Wuyong that much money?

“You don’t have to do anything. As I said it’s fine,” Yin Yu reiterated. “I’ll take care of it.”

Take care of it? There was no way Wuyong would just forget that she owed them another 180 000¥. What could Yin Yu mean?

“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” the woman said.

“Don’t worry about that.”

Get in trouble… Wu Ming thought. Does Yin Yu… – there’s no way – Does Yin Yu falsify Wuyong finances? To help a… friend? Desperate business owner? Woman in destress?

Could he really be going against Wuyong?

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, coming from the stairs leading to the first floor. Wu Ming instantly stepped away from the door and returned to the lounge area. He barely had time to sit down casually when a woman entered his field of vision.

She frowned when she saw him sitting there but didn’t say anything, instead she went to remove the top of one of the benches, revealing several bottles of alcohol of all kinds hidden inside the banquette, along with some glasses. She poured herself a drink and sat at the opposite side of the room.

Her hair was down and slightly ruffled, and she wore an excessive amount of makeup. She seemed exhausted, and though Wu Ming guessed she was still pretty young, she looked to be in her mid-thirties. Based on her revealing clothing, she was a worker here.

But as he observed her, Wu Ming realized something. He knew her face. He knew her! He had seen her multiple times before, years ago. He couldn’t remember her name, but she had dated one of Xie Lian’s childhood friends! Feng Xin, if he recalled correctly.

He used to see her at some of Xie Lian’s martial art competitions. Then one day she just stopped coming. He hadn’t known what happened and hadn’t cared at the time.

But to see her here, after all this time — what were the odds?

He must have stared at her for too long – with his mask still on hiding his astonished expression – because her lips suddenly curved into a sweet, knowing smile.

“Like what you see, handsome?” she teased, voice honeyed and playful.

Great. He must have looked like a creep.

He winced, shaking his head.  “I didn’t mean to stare. Don’t misunderstand me. And don’t call me that.”

She laughed, light and carefree. “Don’t worry, it’s alright, you can admit it.” She leaned forward, placing her glass on the coffee table in front of her, leaning over exaggeratedly with a deliberate slowness, showing her cleavage off.

Wu Ming felt his patience fraying. “There’s really no point in doing that.” He tried not to sigh too audibly, but the weariness crept into his tone.

She straightened up but seemed only more amused. Her smile widened. “Aren’t you shy.” With deliberate care, she folded her arms, squishing her breasts together provocatively. When she didn’t get any reaction, she crossed her legs, making her mini skirt ride up.

Wu Ming pinched the bridge of his nose under his mask. She wasn’t going to drop it, was she?

“I’m not into women,” he told her coldly.

The playful gleam in her eyes vanished. She froze, caught off guard.

A beat of silence passed.

“You could have said that earlier,” she muttered grumpily, letting her arms fall back at her sides.

“It’s not really any of your business,” he retorted, frowning at her.

“Pff.” She shook her head before relaxing in her seat, giving him a curious look. “I’ve never seen you before. It’s usually the same two Wuyong officers that come. Are you a new recruit?”

Wu Ming tried to resist the urge to groan. What in his body language gave her the impression that he wanted to have a chat?

“Something like that,” he answered in the most evasive way possible, hoping it would discourage further questions. And if that wasn’t enough of a hint, he also grabbed his phone, pretending to be deeply invested in his wallpaper. He actually liked his wallpaper. It was a picture of Xie Lian playing with Ruoye he had been able to snap one evening months ago at the flat. It was absolutely adorable–

“Mysterious, are we?” the woman laughed.

He didn’t grant her a response.

“I’m Lan Chang,” she said, undeterred. After another beat of silence, she added “Won’t didi give me his name?”

“Don’t call me that,” he bit back.

“I won’t have to if you give me your name,” Lan Chang shrugged with a smile.

He sighed. She never knew how to stop, did she? Still, he didn’t answer.

“Mn, alright, let me guess… Xiǎo Màn²?”

He gave her a nasty look before stating his actual name. If she wouldn’t shut up either way, he might as well avoid the insults.

“Wu Ming? That’s not a name!” she scoffed. “I’m not an idiot, there’s no way that’s what you go by.”

“It is,” he responded, defensive. Xie Lian gave him this name. Who did she think she was to criticize it?

Lan Chang blinked, not having expected an aggressive reaction. Then recognition filled her eyes. “You… You’re the Wu Ming that’s always with Dianxia.”

That made him look up from his phone. How did she know that? Was she…still in contact with Xie Lian? No, why would she.

“How do you know him?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

“I don’t, but the two of you made quite a name for yourselves. Banyue told me that you helped a lot,” she casually said.

Banyue?

Taking in his astonished silence, she explained with a wink, “This isn’t my only job.”

Just how many spies did Black Water have?

Lan Chang tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Why are you replacing Qi Ying by the way?”

Wu Ming’s expression darkened thinking about whatever Jun Wu’s ploy was.

“What does the owner have to do with Wuyong?” he asked instead of answering.

Lan Chang rolled her eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

She took a gulp from her drink before she started explaining. “Years ago, Wuyong loaned the owner some money to buy the building. She bought it for cheap, sure, but that was just bait. The real trap? The renovation costs.”

Wu Ming blinked. “Renovation costs?”

“One hundred million yuan³.”

His lips parted in disbelief. “What?”

“The place was falling apart. And that's not even the worst part,” Lan Chang continued with a bitter laugh. “They stuck the owner with a vicious interest rate—fifteen percent over thirty years. Do the math, and you'll see they might as well have handed her a shovel and told her to dig her own grave.”

Wu Ming absorbed the information in silence. He found himself glancing toward the room Yin Yu was in, still discussing with the owner.

“Anyway, you should be careful. Wuyong may own this building, but that doesn’t mean everyone here plays nice with them,” she warned.

“They seemed nice enough to Yin Yu.”

“Well, sure. But Yin Yu's not like the rest of Wuyong. I’ve met him a few times," she said casually. "He’s one of the few officers who doesn't throw his weight around. Actually, if you ask me, I think he hates working for them."

Wu Ming thought about it. There had been a quiet kindness in the way he spoke to the owner, and with what he said about not worrying if she could pay off…

“Yin Yu goes against his orders as much as he can,” Lan Chang continued. “He helps people when Wuyong would rather crush them. It’s why a lot of folks here tolerate his visits.”

Wu Ming digested that information, feeling a flicker of something akin to respect. He hadn't known Yin Yu for long, but he had sensed a quiet rebellion beneath the man’s stoic exterior.

Still, “He doesn't seem the type to break rules,” Wu Ming said skeptically.

“You’d be surprised,” Lan Chang retorted with a knowing smile. “He’s good at keeping up appearances, but I've seen it. He fights back in his own way.”

Wu Ming narrowed his eyes. “Why would he risk it? If Wuyong found out—”

“They haven’t, which says a lot about how smart he is,” Lan Chang interrupted with a shrug. “He knows which rules to bend and which to break outright. Plus, he’s careful about who he trusts.” She took another sip of her drink. “That probably explains why you’re waiting out here instead of in there.”

Yeah, he figured.

Before Wu Ming could respond, the door Yin Yu had disappeared through creaked open. The straw sandal emerged, his mask firmly in place, expression unreadable.

Lan Chang quickly stood up, smoothing her clothes. “I should get back to work,” she said, flashing Wu Ming a final grin. “See you, handsome.”

As she walked away, Wu Ming muttered under his breath, “I told you not to call me that.”

Yin Yu looked at him for a few seconds without saying anything. Wu Ming stared back. He wished the other man wasn’t wearing a mask. He couldn’t tell what kind of expression he had or what he was thinking.

Lan Chang’s heels clicked rhythmically on the wooden stairs as she descended, each step echoing sharply in the quiet space. As Yin Yu kept staring at him in silence, Wu Ming felt the need to justify himself and say that it was Lan Chang who started talking to him and wouldn’t shut up.

“You don’t need to explain,” Yin Yu said calmly, cutting him off before he could speak. “Lan Chang likes to talk. That’s just how she is.”

Wu Ming blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Still, she talks too much,” he muttered.

“And you’re not exactly the friendliest person, yet here we are,” Yin Yu retorted, a touch of mirth in his tone.

Wu Ming’s raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t come here for social hour.”

A small huff escaped Yin Yu — not quite a laugh, but close enough. “Fair enough.” He motioned toward the corridor. “Let’s get out of here.”

They walked in silence down the hallway and descended the dimly lit stairs. The oppressive atmosphere of the first floor hit them like a wall as they reached the bottom, thick with smoke and the overwhelming mix of sweat, alcohol, and cheap perfume.

Wu Ming grimaced. “This place is disgusting.”

“It’s not a palace, that’s for sure,” Yin Yu agreed as they maneuvered through the crowd. “But it’s a refuge for some.”

Wu Ming glanced sideways at him, surprised by the comment. There was a weight to Yin Yu's words, something he couldn’t quite place. “You seem to care a lot about this place,” Wu Ming said, his voice lower. A part of him had written the straw sandal off as just another pawn in Jun Wu’s grand scheme, but maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

Yin Yu's stride didn’t falter. “Do I?”

As they stepped out into the night, the cold air hit them like a blessing. The stench of smoke and perfume still clung to their clothes, but at least the street offered some reprieve.

They walked the few paces to the car waiting for them. Wu Ming’s steps were heavy, weighed down by frustration. Once he stepped in the car, slamming the door close, he tugged his mask off and rubbed his face as if trying to wipe away the entire experience.

“That was pointless,” he muttered under his breath, his voice raw with bitterness.

The car was divided into two distinct sections, completely cutting off the driver from his passengers.

Yin Yu glanced at him, his own mask still in place.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Wu Ming continued through gritted teeth. “What’s the point of dragging me along if I’m just going to be a bystander?”

Yin Yu took off his mask too. “You’re right,” he said, his voice calm and measured.

Wu Ming blinked, caught off guard by the blunt agreement.

“You didn’t need to be there. I didn’t want you to come,” Yin Yu continued. “I said so to Shan Chu, but he didn’t listen.” His tone softened, tinged with something that almost resembled regret. “I’m sorry.”

Wu Ming’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He didn’t know what to make of that answer. Was Yin Yu being genuinely nice, or did it just not want to have Wu Ming on his back?

And the way he said sorry… Wu Ming didn’t like it. It was the third time he apologized already. It didn’t sound good.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Wu Ming pulled out his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before slowly typing out a message to Xie Lian.

Me (17:04): We’re done. Heading back to Wuyong headquarters.

He hesitated before adding,

Me (17:06): Everything okay on your side?

He hit send and stared at the screen, waiting for the ‘Read’ status to appear. Seconds passed. Then minutes. Nothing.

Wu Ming frowned. It wasn’t unusual per say, but it didn’t help the uneasy feeling coiling in his chest, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. He told himself not to overthink it—Xie Lian was busy. He was in the middle of a dangerous mission, he had other things to focus on than his phone. Still, the rationalizations did little to ease his growing worry.

The city lights blurred past the window, casting fleeting shadows across Wu Ming’s face. He clenched his phone in his hand, silently willing Xie Lian to answer.

But as they sped through the streets toward Wuyong headquarters, that gnawing feeling only sank deeper into his bones. Something was wrong. He just knew it.

Chapter Text

The drive back to Wuyong’s headquarters passed in oppressive silence. Wu Ming alternated between compulsively checking his phone and looking at Yin Yu. If something had happened, the straw sandal would know it, right? He seemed tense. But was he really, or was Wu Ming imagining it? No, no, no, he was just projecting, everything was fine, there was no need to worry.

Still, “Yin Yu?”

“Mn.”

“… Is everything going okay?”

Yin Yu gave him an undecipherable look but didn’t ask him to clarify what he was asking about. With a sigh, he answered, “Communications with Ming Guang seem to have been cut.” Before Wu Ming could start panicking—no, who was he kidding? He’d already been panicking for the past 30mn—Yin Yu added, “Qi Rong was apparently more prepared than we thought, but it’s not particularly alarming. Ming Guang knows what to do. He’s a clever strategist, his team outnumbers Qi Rong’s goons, and all of his men are very skilled fighters. They’ll be fine. There’s no need to worry.”

Wu Ming nodded stiffly, trying to absorb Yin Yu’s words, but his hands were clenched so tight around his phone that his knuckles turned white. He’ll be fine, he repeated to himself like a mantra. There’s no need to worry.

When they finally arrived at Wuyong’s headquarters, Wu Ming practically leaped out of the car before it had fully stopped, his pulse thundering in his ears. Ling Wen was waiting for them, a phone at her ear. This could not be a good sign.

Her face didn’t betray anything, and she kept her expression neutral as Wu Ming stomped toward her, hiding his worry behind his anger.

“What. Happened.” He demanded, his voice dark with threat.

She pointedly ignored him and turned to Yin Yu. “Green Lantern jammed the communications, but Ming Guang managed to reach me briefly. There was an ambush, Qi Rong knew we were coming. But the situation is mostly under control. I expect them to be back in a couple hours at most.”

“Ah.” Yin Yu nervously cast a glance at Wu Ming. “Is it the work of one of Black Water’s spies then?”

“Most likely.”

Black Water? If Xie Lian was injured because of them, Wu Ming would sever their head from their body personally.

He checked his phone for the hundredth time. Still no answer.

Me (18:01): Dianxia?

Me (18:02): Ling Wen said that there was an ambush. Are you alright?

He stopped listening to Ling Wen and Yin Yu’s conversation, tuning them out. They didn’t have anything useful to say.

Worthless. All of them.

Wu Ming barely registered the shift in conversation as Ling Wen and Yin Yu moved toward one of the offices. His eyes remained locked on his phone screen, as if it would will a ‘Read’ status into existence. He heard footsteps retreating, the quiet murmur of conversation between the two Wuyong officers, but it all felt distant—like he was underwater, the world around him muted and sluggish.

A hand closed around his wrist, firm but not forceful. “Come,” Yin Yu said, tugging him along.

Wu Ming followed without protest, though his steps felt heavy, his limbs leaden with something close to dread. It wasn’t logical—Xie Lian was capable, far more than most. And yet, Wu Ming couldn’t shake the sick feeling curling in his stomach.

By the time they reached the office, Ling Wen had already settled into a chair, retrieving a fresh set of documents from the desk. She gave Wu Ming a cursory glance but said nothing, her focus shifting back to Yin Yu as they resumed their discussion.

Wu Ming’s fingers twitched. He wanted to grab the stack of papers out of her hands and throw them across the room. Instead, he sank into a chair, staring blankly ahead. His phone remained clutched in his hand.

A soft clink broke through the fog in his mind. He blinked and looked down—Yin Yu had placed a cup of tea in front of him, the steam curling slowly into the air. He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t offered any reassurances. Just tea. A quiet, wordless gesture.

But Wu Ming didn’t pick it up. Didn’t acknowledge it at all. He was too lost in the storm of his thoughts, his mind replaying every worst-case scenario in vivid detail.

Silence stretched between them. Yin Yu and Ling Wen continued talking in the background, but their words blurred together into meaningless noise. Wu Ming barely heard them, too preoccupied with the static in his own head.

The minutes blurred together. An eternity, or maybe just an hour. Wu Ming had no sense of time anymore. Only the cold pit in his stomach and the weight of his own thoughts.

Then—

Ling Wen’s phone rang. The ringtone sharply slicing the air around them, almost startling everyone. Swiftly, she picked up. “Report,” she ordered, her voice as neutral as ever.

They couldn’t make out what the person on the other end of the line was saying, but the two men were staring at Ling Wen, hung to her every micro-expressions.

Was it good news? Or bad news?

“Alright. Tell Ming Guang I’m coming to see him and I want a full report.”

She barely had time to hang up before Wu Ming jumped to his feet and slammed his hands on her desk. “Where are they?”

“First floor, third hall,” she calmly answered.

Immediately, he bolted down the corridor, uncaring of the weird looks people gave him as he rushed past them.

The moment he entered the hall, he scanned the room for any sign of Xie Lian.

The group that had gone after Green Lantern had indeed returned, but their faces were tight, and their uniforms bore fresh bloodstains. Some were bandaged up, their postures heavy with exhaustion. Wu Ming’s stomach lurched. Pei Ming was there, talking with a tall man with untamed curly hair. He could also recognize a few faces that he had seen around the compound. But none of them mattered.

Where was Xie Lian?

He barely registered Yin Yu jogging behind him and entering the room after him.

Wu Ming pushed people aside to make way, not caring how much strength he had to exert to get. Them. Out. Of. His. Way.

When he arrived in front of Pei Ming, the man stopped his discussion. His gaze flickered to Wu Ming, and there was a hesitation that made his heart sink further. “I suppose you’re here about Dianxia—”

Wu Ming grabbed him by his collar. “Where is he?” He wanted to sound threatening, but his voice was hoarse, too broken for that.

Pei Ming grimaced. “Medical aisle. He was injured.” The world tilted. “But–”

Before he could finish his sentence, Wu Ming turned on his heel and ran.

Down the halls, past startled officers, ignoring the sound of Pei Ming calling after him. His feet carried him on instinct, heart hammering painfully against his ribs.

He burst into the medical wing, breathless, scanning the rows of beds. And then he saw him.

Xie Lian lay on one of the cots, pale as the sheets beneath him, his clothes stained dark with blood. His left arm was bandaged, a slow IV drip feeding clear liquid into his veins. There were bandages around his ribs.

Wu Ming’s chest constricted. He swallowed against the lump in his throat and stepped forward.

“… gege.” His voice came out barely above a whisper. For an instant he felt like he was Hong-er again. Small and scared, faced with the violence of the world. Helpless and weak.

With all the care in the world, he slowly took his hand in his.

Xie Lian’s lashes fluttered. Then, sluggishly, he opened his eyes.

“Dianxia!” Wu Ming immediately let go of his hand, relief and anxiety warring in his chest.

Xie Lian blinked slowly, his gaze hazy, unfocused. His eyes drifted around the room before settling on Wu Ming. “Wu Ming?” he asked, his mouth furry.

“I’m here.” Wu Ming forced his voice to be steady, but the weight pressing against his ribs refused to lift. “How do you feel?”

Xie Lian frowned faintly.

“I’m fine,” he muttered stubbornly. “It’s just a scrape.”

A scrape wouldn’t have landed you in the medical wing, Wu Ming thought bitterly.

Xie Lian tried to push himself up, bracing on his forearms. But the moment he did, pain ripped through him, and he crumpled back onto the bed with a sharp, involuntary gasp.

“Dianxia, don’t move! You’re going to hurt yourself!” Wu Ming immediately caught his arm. He adjusted the pillows behind Xie Lian and eased him back down with careful hands. Only when Xie Lian finally stopped struggling did Wu Ming allow himself to ask, “What happened?”

Xie Lian exhaled, tilting his head slightly. “A bullet grazed me,” he said, as if he were discussing the weather. “It’s not a big deal.”

Wu Ming’s patience snapped.

“Of course it’s a big deal!” His voice rose, sharper than he intended. You were hurt badly enough to need all of this—” He gestured toward the IV line, the monitors, the unmistakable scent of antiseptic that clung to everything in the room. “Because I wasn’t there. And it could have been worse, you could have been—”

He couldn’t say it. The word strangled him, lodging itself deep in his throat.

Xie Lian frowned. “Wha– This has nothing to do with you.”

“But I should have been there,” Wu Ming retorted, self-blame obvious in his voice.

That only seemed to anger Xie Lian. “I can handle myself,” he answered curtly.

Can you really say that when you’re like this? Wu Ming bit back.

Xie Lian must have realized it, too, because something in his expression shifted. He winced and turned his head away.

The silence between them stretched, before Xie Lian tentatively spoke, “Wu Ming, I–”

But before he could finish, the door creaked open. A man in a white coat stepped inside. His presence was impersonal, clinical, as if he had already decided this was a waste of his time. His sharp gaze flickered over Xie Lian, assessing him with clinical detachment.

“You need to remain on strict bed rest for at least a week,” he stated bluntly. “No strenuous activity for a month. That includes running, fighting, or anything sexual.” He gave him a sharp look. “For now there isn’t much to be done about your wound. It wasn’t deep enough to need suture, so you’ll only need your bandages changed and your wound cleaned frequently. Of course, you have to take antibiotics until we’re sure that no infection will develop.”

Wu Ming let out the breath he had been holding. He would be ok.

The doctor continued, crossing his arms. “If you really want to, you may return to your own quarters, though I strongly recommend against it. It would be best for you to remain here where I can monitor you.”

Wu Ming saw it then—the way Xie Lian’s fingers twitched, his jaw tightening just slightly. A subtle shift, but enough for Wu Ming to know: Xie Lian wanted out of here.

The doctor’s gaze lingered a fraction too long, as if daring Xie Lian to make a foolish choice.

“I’ll come back in the morning to check on you,” he added. Then, without waiting for an answer, he turned and strode out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Silence settled in his absence.

Then—

“I’m leaving,” Xie Lian said flatly, already moving to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

“Dianxia!” Wu Ming’s voice was sharp with alarm as he surged forward, catching his arm before he could push himself up. “You can barely sit up. Please, at least stay the night. You need rest.”

“I’m leaving,” Xie Lian repeated, sharper this time. Stubborn. Unyielding.

But the moment he tried to push himself further upright, pain flared through his abdomen like fire. His arms shook, his vision blurred at the edges, and he swayed dangerously. Wu Ming caught him before he could collapse, gently guiding him back down onto the mattress.

Xie Lian let out a quiet, frustrated breath, his fingers curling into the sheets.

Wu Ming stayed close, waiting, watching. He knew Xie Lian well enough to understand what was happening.

This wasn’t just about discomfort. This was something deeper, something clawing at him from the inside.

Xie Lian hated this—hospitals, beds like these, the sterile smell of antiseptic that clung to everything. It felt suffocating, like hands pressing against his throat.

The last time he had woken up in a bed like this, his parents had been murdered and he had just tried to take his own life.

He could still remember the moment he had opened his eyes to Jun Wu looming over him, his voice a quiet, careful thing, dripping with pity and poisoned promises.

You poor child.

The memory clawed at his ribs. His chest tightened. His breath came faster. The walls of the room felt like they were pressing inward.

He had to get out.

But he couldn’t.

His hands trembled against the sheets, his nails digging into the fabric. He swallowed once, twice, and turned his head slightly toward Wu Ming to anchor himself. Right. He wasn’t alone this time.

“Stay,” he asked, his voice coming out more broken than he would have wanted.

Wu Ming’s stomach twisted, and he straightened at once. “Of course.” He didn’t hesitate, didn’t question it. He simply reached for a chair and dragged it closer, next to the bed, settling into it without a word.

Xie Lian watched him for a long moment. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but in the end, he only turned onto his side, facing away.

Wu Ming leaned back in the chair, exhaling softly. The room was quiet except for the steady beep-beep-beep of the monitors. The dim light above cast faint shadows across the walls.

He thought Xie Lian might be able to sleep.

But then—

Xie Lian shifted slightly, his shoulders tight with tension. He was awake. Still awake.

And then, barely noticeable—he shook.

Wu Ming hesitated. He didn’t want to push too much, didn’t want to trespass where he wasn’t welcome.

But then Xie Lian turned his head slightly, his gaze flickering toward him.

Something about that look made Wu Ming’s chest ache.

“Dianxia…?” Wu Ming asked, quiet, careful.

Xie Lian’s fingers twitched in the sheets, and then, finally, he spoke.

“You can’t sleep in that chair.” His voice was steady, but something about the way he said it felt like an excuse. “You should lie down.”

Wu Ming hesitated—but only for a moment.

Then he nodded. “Alright.”

He shifted carefully onto the bed beside him, moving slowly, mindful of the limited space. He kept his distance, making sure to leave a respectful gap between them. He didn’t want to make Xie Lian uncomfortable, didn’t want to overstep.

But still—Xie Lian shook.

Every few minutes, he would glance back at Wu Ming, his eyes flickering with something hesitant, something vulnerable.

And then Wu Ming understood.

He hesitated for only a second before he spoke, his voice softer than before.

“Do you want me to hold you?” A selfish part of him also asked for his own sake, so he could be sure that Xie Lian was here. Feel his chest rising and falling in his arms. Alive.

Though he tried to hide it, the relief in Xie Lian’s eyes was immediate. He swallowed once, then nodded.

Wu Ming shifted closer, wrapping an arm around him with careful, measured gentleness. He kept his touch light, reassuring but never restrictive.

Xie Lian tensed for just a moment—then, slowly, he exhaled and leaned into the warmth.

Wu Ming felt the tension in his body ease, just slightly.

Neither of them spoke.

For a long while, they simply stayed like that, Xie Lian pressed against him, his breathing slowing, his tremors fading.

And then, finally—finally—Xie Lian slept.

Wu Ming stayed awake a little longer, just listening to the sound of his breathing, steady and even. Trying to reassure himself too. He was safe now. He was safe.

Wu Ming woke to the sound of the door creaking open. His instincts flared before his mind fully caught up, and his body tensed in readiness. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, adjusting to the dim morning light filtering through the medical wing’s curtains.

Then, he saw the doctor standing in the doorway.

The man’s face twisted into an unmistakable scowl as his sharp gaze landed on them. “Really.”

Wu Ming realized, belatedly, that Xie Lian was still curled against him, warm and steady in his arms.

The doctor made a noise of disapproval deep in his throat, striding toward the bedside with clipped, efficient steps.

Wu Ming carefully sat up, extricating himself from Xie Lian without waking him.

“Awake,” the doctor ordered dryly. He made a move to sharply tap on Xie Lian’s shoulder, but before he could reach him, Wu Ming grabbed his wrist, his grip tight.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice dark.

The doctor tsked, but didn’t answer anything, drawing back his hand.

Wu Ming carefully took Xie Lian’s hand in his, shaking it a little with all the gentleness in the world. “Dianxia,” he called, his voice soft. “It’s morning. The doctor is here.”

Xie Lian stirred with a quiet hum, his eyes flickering open sluggishly. Wu Ming once again immediately let go of his hand.

“How are you feeling?” the doctor asked, but his tone suggested that he barely cared about the answer.

Xie Lian blinked slowly, adjusting to wakefulness. His voice was hoarse when he finally murmured, “Fine.”

The doctor scoffed. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He checked the IV, then pressed against Xie Lian’s ribs, his fingers prodding the bandages with a clinical efficiency that made Wu Ming’s fists clench.

Xie Lian barely flinched.

“Any dizziness?” the doctor asked.

“No,” he answered, seeming just as bored as the white clad man.

“Pain?”

“No.”

The doctor gave him an unimpressed look. “Pain?” he repeated, firmer this time.

Xie Lian hesitated for half a second too long.

The doctor sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Then, before Xie Lian could protest, he continued, “Since you seem incapable of admitting when you’re in pain, I’ll be giving you painkillers along with the antibiotics. Take them when needed, but don’t overdo it.” He paused before asking, “Are you going to stay here or not?”

“No,” Xie Lian answered faster than Wu Ming could have imagined possible.

The doctor sighed, shaking his head in clear disapproval. He glanced at Wu Ming, arching a brow. “I suppose you’ll be looking after him?”

“Yes.” This time it was Wu Ming who answered before Xie Lian could say anything.

“Then listen closely.” The doctor placed two pill bottles on the bedside table and began explaining the dosages, how often they should be taken, and the importance of finishing the antibiotics even if the pain subsided. He also told them when Xie Lian should come back to the medical ward to get his wound cleaned and his bandages changed.

Wu Ming didn’t miss a single word, listening religiously. He nodded at each instruction, committing every detail to memory.

The doctor, at least, seemed satisfied that someone was being responsible.

He turned back to Xie Lian. “As I said yesterday, no unnecessary movement. No sexual activity,” he stressed, glancing between them meaningfully. “And if you make your injury worse, don’t come crying back to me.” Before he turned to leave, he told Wu Ming, “Make sure he rests,” as if that wasn’t already his plan. Then, he was gone.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then—

“I’m leaving,” Xie Lian reiterated, voice quiet but firm.

Without a word, Wu Ming stood and went to find a wheelchair. It took some searching, but soon he returned, rolling it to the side of the bed.

With great care, Wu Ming helped him up, steadying him as he maneuvered him into the chair. Xie Lian hissed softly as the movement jostled his ribs, but he said nothing.

Wu Ming didn’t say anything either, but he tightened his grip just slightly, making sure Xie Lian was secure before pushing him out of the medical wing and toward his room.

The moment they crossed the threshold, the tension in Xie Lian’s shoulders eased.

His room was quieter, calmer. The air was softer here, untainted by the sterile scent of the medical wing.

Wu Ming helped him settle onto the bed, arranging the pillows to prop him up comfortably.

“Rest,” he instructed. “I’ll be back.”

Xie Lian blinked at him. “Where are you going?”

“To get some food. You need to eat.”

Something flickered across Xie Lian’s expression, and he didn’t argue. Wu Ming took that as permission and slipped out.

The open bar restaurant was quiet at this hour—too late for breakfast but too early for lunch—with only a few people lingering at the tables, eating in hushed conversation or staring blankly at their food. Wu Ming barely spared them a glance as he stepped inside.

Steam rose from the large pots lined up at the counter, the scent of warm broth, herbs, and sizzling oil thick in the air. He scanned the selection quickly, eyes landing on a pot of congee tucked near the end of the line. That would do.

Grabbing a bowl, he ladled a generous portion. He guessed Xie Lian wouldn’t be hungry—he rarely was, even on good days—but he had skipped a meal.

Wu Ming stared at the plain congee. Too bland, too empty.

He moved to the side dishes, bypassing the heavier meats, ignoring anything fried or overly seasoned. Instead, he selected a plate of vegetables, all lightly cooked. Nothing overwhelming.

Bringing them to the counter, he set the bowl down and took out a knife. He methodically diced finely each piece, small enough that Xie Lian wouldn’t have to chew much, small enough that they would mix seamlessly into the porridge. The repetitive movement was soothing.

He then stirred them in carefully, watching as the vegetables disappeared into the rice. The color was barely noticeable, but it was enough. Enough to add texture, to give some extra nourishment without making the dish feel heavy.

Wu Ming hesitated, then scooped a little more congee into the bowl. He knew Xie Lian wouldn’t eat much, but… just in case. Just in case he was hungrier than he realized.

Satisfied, he picked up the bowl and turned to leave.

Wu Ming stepped back into the room quietly, careful not to spill the bowl of congee. The scent of warm rice and vegetables filled the space.

Xie Lian hadn’t moved, propped against the pillows. His expression was unreadable, distant. The fatigue in his posture was evident, but he was more composed now, the tension from earlier settling into something quieter.

Wu Ming walked up to him and placed the bowl on the bedside table. “You should eat,” he said simply.

Xie Lian glanced at the food, then at Wu Ming. His brows furrowed slightly. “Where’s yours?”

Wu Ming blinked. He hadn’t expected the question. He had been focused solely on Xie Lian. It hadn’t crossed his mind at all to grab something for himself.

He didn’t answer.

Xie Lian watched him for a long moment, then let out a quiet sigh. “Then share with me.”

Wu Ming stiffened. “Dianxia, you need—”

“I’m not hungry.” Xie Lian’s voice was firm, steady. “I wouldn’t eat much anyway. Just share it with me.”

Wu Ming hesitated. He didn’t want to deprive Xie Lian of the food he needed to recover. But at the same time, he could see it—Xie Lian meant it. He wasn’t just saying it out of politeness.

Still, something about the idea made him uncertain. Sharing a bowl, sharing a spoon—it felt…

Too familiar? Too intimate?

He wasn’t sure.

He could go back and get another spoon, but the congee would turn cold in the meantime. In fact, he could go back and get a second serving of congee altogether. He didn’t know why Xie Lian hadn’t suggested it.

Wu Ming let out a quiet breath. “Eat first,” he said instead of voice his thoughts, trying to keep his voice even. “I’ll have what’s left. But don’t hold back because of me.” He was giving in too easily, but at least if he ate first, Xie Lian wouldn’t have to use a tainted spoon. Or that’s what he told himself at least.

Xie Lian studied him, then gave a small nod. “Alright.” He picked up the spoon and stirred the congee absentmindedly before bringing a small bite to his lips.

Wu Ming watched him, making sure he actually ate.

The room was quiet except for the faint clink of the spoon against the bowl. They didn’t talk, but Wu Ming was fine with that.

When Xie Lian finished, he lowered the spoon and nudged the bowl slightly in Wu Ming’s direction. He didn’t say anything, but the look he gave him was expectant.

Wu Ming hesitated.

The spoon was still in Xie Lian’s hand, the rim of the bowl still faintly warm from where he had held it. The congee left was barely touched—Xie Lian had eaten little, just as he said he would. But the moment still felt… odd.

His fingers curled slightly against his knee. He could say no. He could get up, go back to the canteen, grab his own bowl.

Without a word, Wu Ming reached forward, fingers brushing against Xie Lian’s for the briefest moment as he took the spoon from him.

Xie Lian said nothing, but his gaze remained steady, watching.

Wu Ming exhaled quietly, then dipped the spoon into what remained of the congee and took a bite.

It was still warm, lightly seasoned, the small bits of vegetables adding just enough flavor without being overwhelming. It tasted fine. It tasted like something he had made sure would be easy for Xie Lian to eat.

He tried not to think about anything else. Xie Lian was kind enough to share his food with Wu Ming. He shouldn’t make it into something it wasn’t.

He ate as fast as possible, ignoring Xie Lian’s piercing stare.

Once the bowl was empty, Wu Ming cleared his throat and placed the bowl back on the nightstand with a bit too much strength, making the ceramic clink.

He busied himself by giving Xie Lian his medication. As he went to the bathroom to grab a glass of water, he glanced at his face in the mirror. Were his cheeks a bit red or was he just imagining it? He promptly splashed some water on his face, taking a deep breath. Pull yourself together. He’s hurt, for fuck’s sake.

He came back with a glass of fresh water and two pills. “Please, take these.”

Xie Lian rolled his eyes but obediently swallowed the pills with a sip of water.

“Good,” Wu Ming said, satisfied. Then, softer, “Rest more.”

Xie Lian let out a quiet breath and settled back against the pillows. His body finally relaxed. His eyes drifted closed, and this time, there was no tension in his brow, no tremors in his hands.

Wu Ming stayed at his side, silent, steady, waiting until his breathing evened out.

Only when he was certain that Xie Lian was truly asleep did he finally move.

His gaze flickered toward the far end of the room, where a small vivarium stood against the wall.

Ruoye.

Silently, Wu Ming approached, peering inside.

The snake lay coiled within the enclosure, its sleek white scales gleaming faintly in the dim light. It lifted its head as Wu Ming neared, tongue flicking out in quiet recognition.

Wu Ming exhaled. “You’re fine, too,” he murmured.

Ruoye blinked at him lazily.

Satisfied, Wu Ming adjusted the temperature controls, ensuring everything was as it should be. Then, with one last glance at the peacefully sleeping Xie Lian, he pulled up a chair by the bedside and sat down again.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

When Xie Lian woke up again, Wu Ming asked carefully, “Do you want to wash up?” He could see the way Xie Lian’s clothes clung to his skin, stained with dried blood and sweat.

Xie Lian hesitated. He glanced down at himself, taking in the mess of his clothes, the grime caked into the fabric. The doctor hadn’t bothered changing him into a hospital gown.

Finally, he let out a quiet sigh. “Yes. I should.”

Wu Ming nodded. “I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

Xie Lian frowned slightly but didn’t argue. He tried to push himself up, but his arms shook, his ribs protesting the movement. Before he could struggle further, Wu Ming stepped forward and carefully hooked an arm around his back, supporting him as he eased him upright. Xie Lian stiffened, unused to being handled so directly, but he allowed it.

“Lean on me,” Wu Ming instructed, his voice even.

Slowly, they made their way to the bathroom. Each step was careful, deliberate. Wu Ming felt the subtle tremors in Xie Lian’s frame, the way his fingers tightened against his sleeve for balance.

When they reached the bathroom, Wu Ming helped him sit on the closed toilet lid, steadying him before stepping back. “I’ll get some fresh clothes for you,” he said. “Do you need—” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you need more help?”

Xie Lian immediately shook his head, firm. “No. I can manage.”

Wu Ming studied him for a long moment. He didn’t want to push, but…

“I’m not crippled,” Xie Lian added bitterly.

“Alright,” Wu Ming said at last. “I’ll be right outside. If you need anything, call me.”

Xie Lian gave a small nod.

Wu Ming left for a few seconds and came back with the softest and most comfortable clothes he had found in Xie Lian’s closet.

He lingered for a moment longer, then stepped out, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wall, exhaling quietly.

Inside the bathroom, he could hear the faint rustle of fabric, the soft hiss of water as the shower started. He closed his eyes briefly and kept listening. He didn’t mean to spy on Xie Lian, but he needed to make sure that he was alright and didn’t hurt himself.

It took a while, the minutes stretching in quiet patience. Then, at last, Xie Lian emerged, dressed in fresh clothes, his damp hair clinging to his skin. Wu Ming stepped forward without a word, guiding him gently back to the bed, ensuring he was settled before retreating to his chair to give him space.

Wu Ming hesitated for a moment, then spoke, "Your hair is still damp. You shouldn’t move your arms too much, and you’ll be cold like this. Can I… dry and brush it for you?"

Xie Lian blinked at him, surprised. For a moment, he looked like he might refuse, but then, with a quiet sigh, he nodded reluctantly. Wu Ming took up a clean towel, moving with careful precision as he began drying Xie Lian’s hair, the motions gentle, almost reverent. He patted away the excess moisture first, making sure not to tug at the strands. When the worst of the dampness was gone, he reached for a comb and carefully started working through the tangles. His movements were slow and deliberate, ensuring he didn’t pull or cause any pain. Each knot was eased apart with patient fingers, smoothing through the strands until they lay silken and untangled. Throughout it all, Wu Ming remained quiet, his touch as light as possible, his focus entirely on tending to Xie Lian with the utmost care.

As much as he enjoyed doing this, Wu Ming was well aware he wasn’t doing it for himself, and that he shouldn’t keep Xie Lian up for too long, so he tried not to take too much time.

When he was finished, he tied Xie Lian’s hair in a loose braid that would keep his hair out of his face and untangled, while still allowing him to comfortably lay his head down on his pillow.

Throughout the whole process, Xie Lian didn’t say a word, but the silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable.

Wu Ming set the comb down and carefully adjusted Xie Lian’s braid one last time.

“You can sleep now, if you want. I’ll stay here.”

Xie Lian’s eyes flickered briefly toward him. “Thank you,” he whispered, weary.

Wu Ming’s heart gave a quiet, unexpected lurch, and there was a brief pause before he could gather himself. The simple thank you caught him off guard, and for a moment, he stood there, feeling a warmth he hadn't expected.

He watched as Xie Lian closed his eyes, the soft rise and fall of his chest becoming steadier with each breath. He whispered, “Rest well.”

Xie Lian didn’t answer, but the faint shift in the blanket, the way he seemed to relax just a little deeper, was enough.

The routine settled in quickly.

Every morning, Wu Ming brought Xie Lian food, always careful to choose something mild, something easy on the stomach. Then he would give Xie Lian his medicine, making sure he never missed a dose. If Wu Ming didn’t remind him, Xie Lian would forget. So, Wu Ming handed him the pills himself, stood there and waited until Xie Lian swallowed them, then passed him a cup of water to wash it down.

Then he stayed with Xie Lian, looking after him, even if most of the time he would just sleep until Wu Ming woke him up for lunch. The same thing repeated at dinner.

When it was time for checkups, Wu Ming was the one who wheeled him back to the medical wing. Xie Lian had protested at first, but Wu Ming ignored him, gripping the handles of the wheelchair with quiet stubbornness. If it had been up to Xie Lian, he probably wouldn’t have gone at all. The doctor was always the same—curt, indifferent, barely sparing them a glance as he checked over Xie Lian’s wound, changed the bandages, and handed Wu Ming new sets of antibiotics with clipped instructions. Wu Ming always listened religiously, committing every word to memory.

When they returned to the room, Wu Ming turned his attention to Ruoye. The snake wasn’t particularly difficult to take care of, but he still tried to escape whenever Wu Ming wasn’t looking. Several times, he caught it slipping through a barely cracked-open window, curling up somewhere out of sight, hiding away, or trying to climb the bed to reach Xie Lian. Wu Ming always coaxed him back, telling him not to disturb Xie Lian’s rest, but he still checked the temperature of the vivarium, still made sure he had enough food and water. He knew Xie Lian didn’t like asking for help, so he never waited to be asked. He simply did what needed to be done.

And he stayed.

Even when there wasn’t anything to do, Wu Ming stayed. He didn’t let himself wander, didn’t allow himself to stray too far from Xie Lian’s side. The only time he left was to get food, and even then, he made it quick. When exhaustion finally caught up to him, he sat in the chair beside Xie Lian’s bed and let himself doze off, light and restless.

They didn’t talk much. Wu Ming didn’t push, and Xie Lian didn’t offer.

They didn’t bring up that first night again.

Maybe it was better that way.

Days passed in quiet monotony. The world outside the room still moved, but inside, it was just the two of them.

Until a knock came.

A sharp, clipped sound echoed against the wooden door.

Wu Ming straightened immediately, body tensing on instinct. His eyes flickered to Xie Lian, who had also turned toward the door, his face unreadable.

Then, a voice followed.

“Open up.”

It wasn’t particularly threatening, but it wasn’t a request.

Wu Ming’s fingers curled at his sides.

For the past few days, it had just been them. No one had disturbed them, no one had come looking for either of them. But now, someone was here.

And something in Wu Ming’s gut told him that the quiet days weren’t going to last much longer.

He exhaled slowly, then stood. He cast one last glance at Xie Lian before moving to answer.

When he opened the door, he was greeted with an unfamiliar face.

“What?” He didn’t greet the man, not feeling very amiable toward whoever disturbed Xie Lian’s rest.

The man didn’t seem to mind too much and simply handed him a thick stack of papers. “Paperwork. Been told that you didn’t answer your emails, so they asked me to bring it to you in person,” he said in a bored voice.

Annoyed, Wu Ming grabbed the papers. It was true that he hadn’t checked his phone nor opened his laptop those past few days, but there was a reason!

He quickly looked through the documents. It was…customer feedback from Jun Wu’s front company, Heavenly Corp. Hundreds, no, thousands of them!

With a frown, he asked, “What the fuck am I supposed to do with those?”

“Read them all and then report on what needs to be improved to increase customer satisfaction,” the man explained. “Someone else will review what you did after.”

Wu Ming felt his patience dissipate. “And why the fuck would I do that?”

The man shrugged. “Orders from Shan Chu.” He paused for a second before seemingly remembering something. “Ah, also, you have a few errands to run around the base, but I don’t remember what they were, so check your emails, yeah.”

This had to be one of Jun Wu’s ploys to get him away from Xie Lian.

“Right, so, I’ve said what I had to, so, see you.” The man quickly left, as if sensing that Wu Ming was about to throw the papers at his face.

Wu Ming closed the door with an angry sigh.

“Let me see them,” Xie Lian spoke up.

“Don’t concern yourself with it, Dianxia. It’s nothing interesting, I’ll take care of it. Go back to sleep.” Wu Ming placed the papers on the little desk on the other side of the room.

“I haven’t done anything else but sleep,” Xie Lian protested.

“You’re still wounded.”

“I’m bored.”

“Then I’ll get you a book. Do you want me to read to you? Or do you want to watch TV?”

“If I can read a book, then I can read those papers,” Xie Lian retorted, annoyed.

“No, you’re not working,” Wu Ming answered, his voice final, just as stubborn.

They would have kept going back and forth for a while, but Xie Lian’s eyelids started to drop. It had only been a few days after all, and he was under the influence of strong painkillers. He was still exhausted most of the time.

Giving up, Xie Lian lay back down with a huff.

When he was sure that he was asleep and wouldn’t need anything else, Wu Ming walked to his room to get the laptop that he had been given upon entering Wuyong. Then, he immediately went back to Xie Lian’s room, opening it there. As soon as the laptop turned on, he was flooded with notifications. Dozens of emails.

He silently groaned.

Reading all the documents was easy enough, but writing a report was another story. Especially since…

‘Submit a handwritten report summarizing…’

He looked down at the sheet of paper on the desk. A mess of ink stared back. It was completely illegible.

With silent anger, he tore up the sheet, crumpled it into a ball and threw it in the trash, joining the previous 17 attempts.

He took a new sheet and grabbed his pen, but after only a few barely legible characters, his hand started jerking and all the strokes got muddled up in an irredeemable sludge.

The pen clattered on the table as he dropped it.

Why did he have to be so fucking useless in everything he did!

“What are you doing?”

Wu Ming jumped. He hadn’t noticed that Xie Lian had woken up.

He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the rising frustration in his chest. He hated admitting weakness, but under Xie Lian’s unwavering gaze, lying felt impossible.

“I…” His fingers curled against the desk. “I struggle with handwriting.”

Xie Lian tilted his head. “Struggle how?”

Wu Ming inhaled sharply, his shoulders tense. “I didn’t go to school,” he said, voice clipped. “And at home…”

He stopped himself before he could say more. There was no point bringing up the past. It wasn’t like it would change anything. He could still remember the sharp sting of his father’s strikes, the way his knuckles ached for weeks, the ink-smeared pages torn apart in frustration. His father’s patience had been thin, his anger quick. Every mistake was met with punishment, until Wu Ming’s hands could barely hold a brush, let alone form proper characters.

He had tried to teach him how to write once, when he was 5 or 6. It had been surprising that his father had wanted to help him or that he had even acknowledged him, but the charade hadn’t lasted long. His father had quickly gotten angry and had started yelling profanities, hitting his hands with a thick book every time he got a character wrong. And it had been a lot, because Hong-er had just been learning.

In the end, Hong-er hadn't learned how to write, but he had struggled to move his hands for weeks.

Even now, his body remembered. His hands trembled, fingers seizing up the moment he tried to write, his mind clouded by memories of failure and pain.

Xie Lian’s voice was soft. “Let me see.”

Wu Ming frowned. “See what?”

“Your handwriting.”

“It’s bad.”

Xie Lian huffed a quiet laugh. It was a small thing, but it was a laugh nonetheless. “It can’t be that bad.”

Wu Ming exhaled, grabbed a fresh sheet of paper, and forced himself to write. The moment his pen touched the surface, his hand tensed. The strokes wobbled, lines overlapping, a tangled mess of ink and ruined characters.

He shoved the paper toward Xie Lian without a word.

Xie Lian studied it for a long moment. His expression didn’t shift, but Wu Ming knew. It was bad. Worse than bad.

“...I see,” Xie Lian said carefully.

“Now you understand,” Wu Ming muttered. He reached for another sheet, knowing the outcome would be the same. His body refused to cooperate, his own mind working against him. The frustration burned deep. He could draw anything he saw with ease, but words? Writing? His hand refused to obey.

Xie Lian hummed in thought, then pushed himself upright. Wu Ming immediately moved to stop him. “You should be resting.”

“I’m fine,” Xie Lian said dismissively. “I’ll write it for you.”

Wu Ming stiffened. “That’s not—”

“It’s already typed up, isn’t it?” Xie Lian cut in, pointing to the laptop that Wu Ming had been staring at before Xie Lian spoke up. “You just need someone to copy it. That’s easy.”

Wu Ming hesitated. The last thing he wanted to do was to bother Xie Lian, but logic told him he had no choice. If he kept struggling like this, he’d never finish the report, and he didn’t know what Jun Wu would do about it.

After a long moment, he exhaled. “...Fine. But you stop as soon as you feel tired.”

Xie Lian smiled, reaching for the pen.

Wu Ming watched as Xie Lian’s hand moved smoothly across the paper, each character neat and elegant. There was no hesitation, no tremor, no struggle. Something tight in his chest loosened, just a little.

For now, this was enough.

With Xie Lian’s help, the mountain of paperwork was taken care of soon enough. But one problem remained. Wu Ming still had a list of errands as long as his arms. With Xie Lian still sleeping most of the time, he had ample occasions to take care of it, but he was reluctant to leave him alone. Even more now than before. Now that Jun Wu made it clear that he wanted Wu Ming away from Xie Lian, there was no way that Wu Ming would leave him alone when he was so vulnerable, when he couldn’t even walk on his own.

A knock at the door broke the tense silence. Who the fuck was it now?

The knock came again, firmer this time. Wu Ming exhaled sharply and got up to open it.

Pei Ming stood there, arms crossed, his usual smug expression in place, though his brows were furrowed in concealed worry.

“How’s he doing?” he asked, nodding toward the bed where Xie Lian lay, asleep.

Wu Ming narrowed his eyes. “Still recovering.”

Pei Ming hummed thoughtfully before stepping inside. “You know, when you came looking for him the other day, you looked like a wife whose husband just came back from war.” He let out a short laugh.

Wu Ming shot him a sharp glare, his entire body tensing like a drawn bowstring. “Is this funny to you?” His voice was low, dangerous.

Pei Ming held up his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. Just an observation.”

Wu Ming clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. “You think this is a joke?” His voice was cold, seething with unspoken rage. “He's in this state because of you. If you had known how to carry a fucking mission, he wouldn't be like this.”

Pei Ming’s smirk faded slightly, but he didn’t look away. “Look, I get it. You’re pissed. You have every right to be. But arguing will only wake him up. So let’s not, alright?”

Wu Ming exhaled sharply, still glaring. “It suits you.”

Pei Ming sighed and tried to change the subject. “You look tired. Have you slept at all?”

Wu Ming sized him up, considering what he should tell him. “Jun–Shan Chu loaded me with work on purpose, to keep me away from him.”

The red pole nodded thoughtfully. “What did he asked you to do?”

“A shit tone of paperwork. Which I did. But now he wants me to run some errands all around the place.” He hesitated before adding, “But I can’t leave him alone.”

Pei Ming leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “I can watch over him.”

Wu Ming’s gut twisted. Could he trust him? Pei Ming had helped Xie Lian get away from Jun Wu once before, but that didn’t erase the fact that Xie Lian had nearly died under his watch, or that he was one of the highest ranked Wuyong officer. Still, the list of tasks waiting for Wu Ming wasn’t getting any shorter, and he couldn’t be in two places at once.

Pei Ming continued, “Besides, I’ll let Yin Yu know about all the paperwork. See if we can get some extra hands on it discreetly, if Shan Chu gives you any more, which he probably will. That should lighten your load a bit.”

“And why would you do that?” Wu Ming asked.

“I told you before. I just want you two to be able to fu–”

Wu Ming swiftly covered his mouth with his hand, silencing him before he could finish his sentence. He glanced at Xie Lian who was thankfully still deeply asleep.

“Don’t you fucking dare say that,” Wu Ming threatened.

When Pei Ming raised his hands in surrender, Wu Ming let him go, still eyeing him suspiciously.

“My offer still stands though,” Pei Ming said as Wu Ming wiped his hand on his pants.

He hesitated for a long moment. Finally, he gave a short nod. “Fine. But if anything happens to him—”

Pei Ming waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll guard him with my life.”

Wu Ming didn’t dignify that with a response, but the tension in his shoulders remained. Just a little. He was pretty sure Xie Lian wouldn’t be happy about it, but he would understand.

In the end, Wu Ming managed to complete every task without ever leaving Xie Lian alone. He worked tirelessly, pushing himself past exhaustion, ensuring that Jun Wu’s attempts to separate them were in vain. He barely slept, running errands in the brief moments Xie Lian dozed off, always returning before he could wake. If Jun Wu expected him to falter, he would be sorely disappointed.

And slowly, Xie Lian recovered. His strength returned in small increments, his wounds closing until only faint scars remained. He could sit up without strain, his voice no longer weak when he spoke. The dark circles under Wu Ming’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed, but Wu Ming merely brushed it off, and Xie Lian understood as well as him what Jun Wu was trying to do.

Eventually, Xie Lian could stand again, albeit with some effort. And though Wu Ming still kept a watchful eye on him, the worst had passed.

What Jun Wu had planned for them exactly, they never found out. And perhaps, that was for the best.

Chapter Text

When Xie Lian felt well enough to move without wincing at every step, they joined one of the Nether Water recon missions at the hospital. It was a terrible idea—Wu Ming had made that very clear—but Xie Lian had insisted. And when Xie Lian insisted, there was really no stopping him.

Still, it was too soon, too soon, too soon. Wu Ming couldn’t stop worrying.

But Black Water hadn’t wanted to keep delaying the operations, and Xie Lian hadn’t wanted to keep being left out. There was nothing to be done when it came to those two.

The hospital was still open to the public, operating as a pristine, high-end medical facility. Officially, it had no connection to Jun Wu whatsoever.

They weren’t wearing their usual demon masks. They weren’t Wuyong’s demonic underlings tonight. They were here as Nether Water’s ghosts.

Their faces were fully covered by simple blank white masks. The only adornments were exaggerated expressions inked in black—one frozen in a smile, the other contorted in a half-crying, half-laughing expression.

As ghosts, they had slipped in under cover of darkness, blending into the late-night staff changes, crossing the dimly lit corridors where security cameras turned in slow, predictable sweeps.

So far, everything had gone according to plan.

Only four people had entered the hospital, separated into two teams—Black Water and Pei Xiu on one side, and Xie Lian and Wu Ming on the other. The keyword of this operation was absolute discretion. They couldn’t afford for Wuyong to notice anything even remotely strange.

Banyue had hacked into the camera system and kept an eye on the patrol routes, whispering quiet directions into their earpieces. Wu Ming stayed close to Xie Lian, not that he needed to. Xie Lian was perfectly capable. But Wu Ming had been a permanent shadow since his injury, and this was no exception.

They made their way down a restricted hallway, passing doors labeled with vague, medical-sounding names. Storage, archives, research. The usual things found in a hospital.

The hospital was far from abandoned, filled with patients and doctors on duty, making it harder to navigate it. But it also meant that Wuyong had to walk on eggshells too.

Banyue’s voice crackled through the earpieces, soft but certain. “Clear for thirty seconds. Move now.”

Wu Ming exhaled and darted forward, staying close to Xie Lian. Their feet made no sound on the polished tile floor.

The deeper they went, the colder the air became. Hospitals were often sterile and impersonal, but this place was unnerving in a way Wu Ming couldn’t quite name. Something about the stillness in the restricted corridors felt unnatural. As if the air itself resisted their presence.

A door marked Research loomed ahead. Banyue spoke again. “That room. Go inside. I’ve disabled the lock.”

Wu Ming reached it first, gloved fingers pressing against the handle. It gave under his touch with a quiet click, and he slipped inside, Xie Lian following close behind.

The room was dark, but Wu Ming could make out the shapes of metal shelves lining the walls, stacked with meticulously labeled boxes. Cabinets with glass doors displayed preserved specimens in jars, their forms distorted by the amber liquid encasing them. A single desk sat in the middle of the room, papers strewn across its surface in controlled chaos.

Wu Ming shut the door softly, his head tilting toward Xie Lian as if asking where do we start?

Xie Lian hesitated. They had been looking for concrete proof of Wuyong’s operations, but so far, everything in the hospital had been maddeningly normal. But normal didn’t mean innocent.

Wu Ming turned to the cabinets, eyes narrowing as he took in the contents of the jars. At first glance, they looked unsettling. Rows upon rows of biological specimens. But as he examined them closer, he realized there was nothing unnatural here. Tumors removed and kept for study. Bone fragments from surgical procedures.

It was all standard, at least for a facility that conducted advanced research. And yet, something about it felt off. Not the contents themselves, but the sheer scale. There were far more samples than a single hospital should need, some labeled with vague or inconsistent details. It wasn’t proof, not yet, but it was something.

Then Banyue’s voice turned sharp. “Two guards incoming. You have ten seconds.”

No hesitation. Wu Ming grabbed Xie Lian’s wrist and pulled him toward the farthest cabinet. It was large enough for two if they pressed close. Wu Ming positioned himself slightly in front, shielding Xie Lian from view. His priority was of course to protect Xie Lian. Still, a part of his brain reminded him of what happened the last time they were in a similar position and pushed him to angle his body as far away as possible—which was really not that much—from Xie Lian’s.

Footsteps approached. The rhythmic click of polished shoes against tile. The door creaked open, light spilling in as two men dressed in white blouses stepped inside.

Wu Ming held his breath.

One of the guards exhaled heavily. “I hate this section. Gives me the creeps.”

“Same,” the other muttered. “Let’s finish the round and get out of here.”

A pause. The sound of papers rustling. Wu Ming forced himself to remain still, barely allowing himself to blink.

Then—

A metallic clang. A sharp breath sucked in.

Wu Ming tensed. His fingers hovered over his blade, just in case. It had been Xie Lian’s idea to take swords with them. Black Water had had looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Of course, they also had guns, but even with silencers on they weren’t exactly quiet, and in a deathly silent hospital, it would give them away immediately.

“Relax,” one guard said. “It was just a clipboard. Probably left too close to the edge.”

The other guard let out a breathless chuckle. “We’re on edge for nothing.”

A moment of silence passed. Then, at last, the sound of retreating steps, the door shutting behind them.

A beat. Then another.

Banyue’s voice returned, quieter this time. “They’re gone.”

Xie Lian immediately emerged from the cabinet, his face unreadable, his gaze lingering on the jars.

Wu Ming clenched his jaw. They had found something strange, but not the proof they needed. They had to go deeper.

Xie Lian asked Banyue, “What’s the most heavily restricted area here?”

There was a long silence. Then, finally, Banyue said, “There’s a lower level. But it’s not on any official blueprint. I can unlock the doors, but once you go down there, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to get you out quickly.”

Xie Lian didn’t hesitate. “Then that’s where we’re going.”

Wu Ming exhaled, quiet but resigned. Without another word, they slipped back into the shadows, moving toward the hidden lower levels of the hospital.

The stairs leading down were unmarked, the walls closing in as they descended. The air grew colder with each step. At the bottom, a reinforced metal door awaited them, thick enough that it could have been part of a bank vault. Banyue worked quickly, and after a tense moment, the lock clicked open.

Beyond the door was a cold storage facility. The moment they stepped inside, Wu Ming felt the chill sink into his bones.

The room was vast, lined wall-to-wall with industrial refrigeration units, their digital displays glowing dimly in the dark. Stainless steel carts stood by the walls, some covered with blue surgical drapes, others holding sealed containers marked with biohazard symbols. The hum of cooling systems filled the silence, steady and artificial, masking the sound of their breathing.

Slowly they approached the nearest refrigeration unit. Xie Lian reached for the handle and Wu Ming braced himself for what he would see.

He knew what was inside, but that still wasn’t enough to prepare him for what he saw.

With a quiet hiss of released pressure, the door unsealed.

Inside, the shelves were filled with vacuum-sealed medical-grade storage bags—each containing a human organ—or at least what Wu Ming assumed to be human organs. Of course, he had never actually seen any real human heart, lung, liver or kidney until now.

Some were stored in preservation fluid, others encased in sterile plastic pouches labeled with identification codes, blood types, and dates. The sheer quantity was staggering.

Xie Lian’s breath was barely audible beside him.

Wu Ming forced himself to look closer. Some of the organs were fresh, the fluid around them still clear. Others, though—some looked wrong. Not rotting, not yet, but older than they should be. A few showed signs of incomplete preservation, as if they had been taken but never used, left in storage beyond their viable window. Wasteful. Careless.

Illegal.

His fingers curled into a fist.

This was it.

This was the proof they needed.

Xie Lian turned to him, their eyes meeting in silent understanding.

Wu Ming looked back at the refrigerator, swallowing hard against the bile rising in his throat. He had known what they would find here. But knowing hadn’t prepared him for seeing.

For how many.

For how many people had been reduced to nothing more than numbers on a bag.

He felt faint.

Xie Lian retrieved the phone Black Water gave them from his pocket and started to take some pictures.

“Maybe they just have a lot of pet snakes,” Wu Ming thought out loud, trying to lighten up the atmosphere.

Xie Lian looked at him like he had lost his mind. “What?”

He blinked. Why the fuck did he say that? “Ugh, sorry, it just reminded me…” He hesitated. How was he supposed to explain that? “When I first saw your freezer back at the apartment, it… kinda freaked me out for a second? Before I realized it was Ruoye’s food.” He coughed awkwardly.

Xie Lian looked at him even weirder, but Wu Ming couldn’t decipher his expression.

Great, so now he’s gonna think I see him as some kind of psycho who keep organs in his fridge. Wu Ming winced. Why didn’t he think before speaking?

He was about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when his earpiece buzzed to life.

Banyue’s voice turned urgent. “Four doctors are coming your way.”

Wu Ming and Xie Lian exchanged a glance. There was no time to hide, and the refrigeration units offered no cover.

“We need to move,” Wu Ming whispered.

Xie Lian nodded, already stepping toward the exit. Wu Ming followed close behind, his pulse quickening as he calculated their escape route. The only way out was back the way they had come.

They slipped through the door just as footsteps echoed down the hall. Keeping close to the shadows, they made their way back up the stairs, their movements swift but controlled.

They nearly made it.

Then, a voice called out behind them. “Hey! Stop right there!”

Immediately, they broke into a sprint.

Behind them, more voices shouted, the sounds of pursuit growing louder. They tore through the empty corridors, twisting through the hospital’s labyrinthine halls, the cold air still clinging to their clothes.

As they ran, Wu Ming kept expecting to hear gunshots and feel bullets fly around them. But none came. Was it because they didn’t want to alarm the residents of the hospital?

“This way!” Xie Lian hissed, tugging Wu Ming toward an unmarked side door. Banyue’s voice crackled in their earpieces, “Turn left—exit ahead!”

They burst into a dimly lit back corridor, the faint hum of city noise beyond the hospital walls a stark contrast to the sterile silence they left behind.

Wu Ming skidded to a stop just outside the exit. He looked over his shoulder—figures in white coats were closing in. Fast.

“Split up,” Banyue said. “Black Water and Pei Xiu are already out. Split up and meet them at the extraction point.”

More men were coming out of the hospital. Wu Ming’s mind skimmed through every escape route possible, but they had too many pursuers. And the only way to reduce their number was to split up. Or engage fire. But if they did then Wuyong would too.

“She’s right,” Wu Ming said between breaths. “Let’s split up.” The decision weighed heavily on his mind.

Xie Lian hesitated, but only for a second, having reached the same conclusion. He nodded. “Be careful.”

Then, he turned and disappeared into the night.

Wu Ming exhaled sharply, turning to follow—but he didn’t. Instead, he slowed his pace, then stopped altogether.

Footsteps thundered behind him.

He knew Xie Lian was fast. Fast enough to get away. That was all that mattered. He would not let him be hurt again.

So, he turned to face them.

Wu Ming stood his ground as the footsteps grew louder. The figures in white coats rounded the corner, their faces hidden behind surgical masks, but their postures sharp and alert.

He felt the weight of the moment pressing on him. Xie Lian was already gone, disappearing into the night, but Wu Ming still had a job to do. His instincts screamed at him to run, to find Xie Lian, but he couldn't afford that.

Stall them. Hold them off. Just a little longer.

Wu Ming drew his blade with a swift, practiced motion, the cold steel gleaming in the dim light of the lampposts. His knuckles tightened around the hilt as he faced the approaching threat, the blade held steady in his hand.

Without hesitation, Wu Ming surged forward, his movements a blur of deadly precision. His blade slashed through the air, meeting its mark with a sickening thud. A man crumpled to the floor, clutching at his side where the sword had cut deep. But there was no time to savor the strike. Another attacker lunged at him, and Wu Ming twisted, spinning to bring the blade down in a wide arc, catching his opponent across the chest. Blood splattered, but Wu Ming didn’t pause.

He was a whirlwind of motion, slicing through the men who came at him one after another. A strike to the arm, another to the thigh, each blow calculated, swift, and vicious. He could hear the grunts of pain, the sound of boots hitting the floor, and the shuffle of feet as the men hesitated, regrouping, trying to figure out how to deal with him. But Wu Ming wasn’t giving them a chance to think.

The air was thick with tension, the sounds of battle ringing in his ears, Wu Ming’s adrenaline was rushing, his senses heightened, but just as he delivered a sharp kick to the chest of one man, something sharp pricked the side of his neck.

He barely had time to register the sensation before his vision blurred, his movements slowing. His hand faltered, and the blade slipped from his grip, clattering to the floor with a loud clang. The world spun around him, his strength draining away in an instant. He tried to stay on his feet, to fight, to move, but it was as if his body was no longer listening to him.

Wu Ming’s legs gave out beneath him. His vision darkened at the edges as he collapsed to the cold, hard floor. Whatever it was that they injected him, it coursed through him, heavier than the blood in his veins, as his world slipped away into oblivion. The last thing he heard before everything went black was the sound of footsteps, growing distant, and the faintest whisper of a cold, calculated voice: “Take him.”

Then nothing.

When Wu Ming woke, he was cold.

Not just cold. Freezing.

His head throbbed. His limbs felt heavy. He blinked, trying to focus, but the room was dimly lit, the walls too bright, too sterile. The faint hum of cooling systems vibrated through the floor beneath him.

He was back in the hospital.

The first thing he registered was that he was tied on some sort of operation table.

Wu Ming’s breath came in short, uneven gasps as he strained against the restraints. Cold leather dug into his wrists, his arms bound to the surgical table at his sides. His legs were strapped down as well, the thick leather restraints cinched too tightly, pressing into his skin. He flexed his fingers, still numb, still slow. The drug hadn’t fully worn off.

The acrid scent of disinfectant burned his nose, and the surgical lights felt like needles stabbing through his eyes.

That’s when he registered the second thing. His face was uncovered.

A man stood at the foot of the table, dressed in a neatly pressed white coat. His surgical mask hid most of his face, but his eyes, cold and calculating, were flickering with something between amusement and intrigue as they roamed over Wu Ming’s face—no, not his face. His right eye.

Wu Ming knew that look.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Did they take his contact too? How would they have even known that he was wearing one?

He blinked with frenzy, trying to feel if his contact was still there.

With a growing sense of panic, Wu Ming looked around the room. There were two more people, both busy with preparing instruments on a metal tray.

The doctor finally spoke, his voice mild, clinical. “I didn't know there was someone like you in Nether Water. Such an unusual trait... Rare enough to be worth collecting.”

Nether Water… So they hadn’t recognized him yet. Still, Wu Ming swallowed hard, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs.

His mind raced. He had seconds before they sedated him again, seconds before he lost any chance of escape.

One of the assistants turned, holding a syringe. Wu Ming’s breath hitched.

No. No way in hell.

He tensed his muscles, preparing for the only chance he had. As the assistant stepped closer, Wu Ming yanked against the restraints with everything he had. Pain flared through his arms, but he didn’t stop. Leather bit into his skin, the metal of the table groaning under the force—

And then, with a sharp snap, one of the restraints gave way.

Wu Ming moved instantly, ripping his arm free and slamming his elbow into the assistant’s face. The syringe flew from her grasp, clattering across the floor. He lunged for the other restraint, tearing himself loose just as the doctor shouted for the others to hold him down.

Too late.

Wu Ming swung a fist into the second assistant’s throat, cutting off their yell. He kicked off the table, sending it crashing into the doctor, then pivoted on unsteady legs—

Pain flared white-hot as something sharp plunged into his thigh.

Wu Ming hissed, his body twisting as he grabbed the wrist of the assistant who had stabbed him.

He looked down at his thigh. A scalpel. His pants were already darkening around it, blood seeping into the fabric.

The assistant tried to pull her hand free, jostling the blade deeper in the process. A strangled scream left her throat at the same time as Wu Ming groaned in pain, before he wrenched the scalpel away, slashing it across her jugular.

Blood sprayed and she collapsed.

The doctor scrambled for a weapon, but Wu Ming was already moving. He grabbed a surgical tray and hurled it with all his strength, sending tools scattering and knocking the doctor back. In two strides, he was on him. He didn’t hesitate. He drove the scalpel into the doctor’s neck, twisted, and yanked it free.

The remaining assistant barely had time to beg before Wu Ming silenced them for good too.

The room was quiet. Wu Ming swayed on his feet, chest heaving, and vision swimming. His leg throbbed with every beat of his heart, but he couldn’t stop now.

He snatched a surgical mask from the table and tied a bandage over his right eye. He hated the feeling—it brought back too many memories, and his childhood was certainly not the last thing he wanted to think about before he died—but his eye was too distinct, too dangerous to leave exposed.

He also botchily wrapped bandages around his leg, which immediately turned deep red.

Shit. He was losing a lot of blood. Did they hit an artery? Was there even an artery there? Fuck if he knew.

Moving was agony, but he forced himself forward. Of course, they took his earpiece. He had no idea what had happened to Xie Lian, Banyue, Black Water, or Pei Xiu—not that he cared much about the later three. He could only hope that Xie Lian had made it unscathed to the extraction point.

Banyue’s directions would have helped in his state, but he could do without. He had memorized the layout of the hospital. The only problem was that he had no idea how much time had passed.

Stumbling forward, Wu Ming pressed onward. Every step sent fire through his leg, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through it. He moved through the dim corridors, ducking into shadows when necessary, keeping his movements controlled despite the haze of pain threatening to drag him under. He tried not to leave a trail of blood behind him.

Nobody seemed to have noticed his escape yet. It was perfect.

But eventually, his body failed him.

He barely managed to stumble into a corner before his legs gave out entirely. He slumped against the cold tile, his breath shallow, his limbs trembling. His fingers slipped uselessly against the bloodstained bandages on his leg.

He wasn’t going to make it.

He had failed. He had failed Xie Lian.

Darkness started creeping at the edges of his vision.

Then—

A voice. Sharp. Furious.

“Wu Ming!”

His sluggish mind barely processed the warmth of hands on his shoulders, the frantic press of fingers checking for injuries. He forced his eyes open, blinking blearily up at the person kneeling before him.

Xie Lian. His face was drawn tight with barely contained anger, but there was something else there too—relief.

Wu Ming blinked sluggishly, his mind clouded by pain and exhaustion. Xie Lian's hands gripped his shoulders tightly, fingers pressing just hard enough to ground him, to keep him from slipping away completely.

Then Xie Lian shook him.

“You absolute–” His voice was sharp, clipped, nearly trembling. “Why did you stay behind?!”

Wu Ming's head lolled slightly, but he forced himself to meet Xie Lian’s glare. It wasn’t just anger in his expression—it was raw, burning frustration, barely masking something deeper.

Wu Ming exhaled weakly. “Sorry,” he muttered. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Xie Lian froze. His lips parted as if he had more to say, but no words came. His fingers twitched against Wu Ming’s bloodied sleeve.

Silence stretched between them for a moment—thick, suffocating.

Then, Xie Lian exhaled sharply through his nose, and the anger drained from his expression, leaving only something raw and unreadable in its place. He shook his head.

“Let’s go,” he said finally, shifting his grip. “Can you stand?”

Wu Ming tensed as Xie Lian pulled him up, a fresh wave of pain searing through his leg. He hissed through his teeth, biting down on a groan. His vision swam, but Xie Lian was already adjusting, hoisting Wu Ming’s arm over his shoulder and taking most of his weight.

“Come on,” Xie Lian said. “Just a little further.”

The halls were eerily quiet, but that wouldn't last. They advanced too painstakingly slowly.

And then, footsteps.

The first guard rounded the corner, barely getting out a word before Xie Lian moved.

There was no hesitation, no pause—just a swift, brutal efficiency. A flicker of silver, a wet gurgle, and the guard crumpled, blood pooling beneath him. Xie Lian didn’t spare him a second glance.

Another came running. Xie Lian shifted Wu Ming’s weight against him and lifted his arm. One shot. A knife clean in the jugular. The guard dropped instantly.

Cold fury radiated off Xie Lian in waves, the same barely leashed anger still burning in his eyes. Wu Ming recognized this side of him—ruthless, lethal, efficient.

He'd seen it before. And he would have appreciated it more now if his head hadn’t been hurting, and if he hadn’t been feeling like he was about to drop dead at any minute.

More guards appeared, their shouts echoing through the halls. Xie Lian didn’t slow. His movements were quick, calculated, leaving no room for mistakes, cutting them down like it was nothing.

“Stay awake,” Xie Lian muttered, adjusting his grip as they exited the building for the second time that night.

Wu Ming’s vision wavered again. His fingers twitched against Xie Lian’s jacket. The blood loss was getting to him. He felt like he was blinking in and out of consciousness. He had a hard time following what was happening, but Xie Lian half carried him through dark, narrow streets.

By the time they reached the extraction point, he was barely holding on.

Black Water and Pei Xiu were already there, waiting by a car. Black Water's usual bored expression was replaced by anger, and Pei Xiu’s brows were knit together in something like concern.

“What the hell happened?” Black Water demanded. His gaze flickered to Wu Ming’s leg. “That’s one monumental fucked up.”

Xie Lian ignored him, pulling the car door open and helping Wu Ming inside. “We can discuss that later,” he said curtly. “For now, you need to take us to Green Lantern’s territory. We’re not going back to Nether Water. It's too far.”

Black Water's eyebrows rose in anger. “After the shit you pulled, you think you can order me around?”

“It wasn’t our fault,” Xie Lian bit back. “And I got you your proof.” He slammed the door shut. “So drive before they catch up with us.”

“I’ll drive,” Pei Xiu intervened, trying to defuse the situation.

Black Water let out a derisive laugh but didn't argue further. “Fine, but don’t count on me to convince Qi Rong to help you. That’s your problem, not mine.”

Xie Lian didn’t waste any more time on this conversation and entered the car, sitting next to Wu Ming while Pei Xiu hurried to start the engine.

Wu Ming barely registered the movement of the car. His body slumped against the seat, his consciousness slipping further.

The last thing he heard before darkness swallowed him completely was Xie Lian’s voice—soft this time, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t you dare die on me.”

Chapter Text

When Wu Ming came to, the first thing he noticed was that his leg hurt even more than before.

The drug has probably worn off, he thought, wincing.

Somehow, he had ended up lying down. His head was cushioned on something soft and firm at the same time. Blinking his eyes open, he saw Xie Lian’s face looking down at him.

Looking down?

His sluggish mind took a moment to register it, but when it did, his entire body tensed.

His head was on Xie Lian’s lap.

Heat surged to his face instantly, embarrassment cutting through the haze of pain. He shifted, attempting to sit up, but the sharp, searing protest from his leg stopped him short. He bit down a groan, forcing himself to blink through the haze clouding his mind.

“Don’t move,” Xie Lian said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Wu Ming swallowed, dragging his gaze away from the infuriatingly close proximity of Xie Lian’s face and instead glancing out of the window. They were now driving through a dilapidated neighborhood, buildings with way too many green neon lights going by.

“We just entered Green Lantern’s territory,” Pei Xiu informed, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“How much longer?” Xie Lian asked, his voice tight.

“Five minutes,” Black Water replied curtly.

Xie Lian exhaled sharply. “Hurry up.”

Wu Ming forced himself to straighten slightly. “I’m fine,” he muttered. His throat was dry, and his voice felt like sandpaper against his own ears. “The wound isn’t that serious. I can–”

“Don’t.”

Wu Ming flinched at Xie Lian’s sharp tone, meeting his glare. The intensity in his expression sent a shiver down his spine. “You lost a lot of blood, you have at least two traumatic injuries, and we need to make sure that the drug they gave you didn’t do any lasting damage.”

Two traumatic injuries? Wu Ming thought before realizing that he still had bandages wrapped around his head. But before he could say something to reassure Xie Lian, the car slowed to a stop. Following Black Water’s directions, they had arrived at Qi Rong’s headquarters.

Xie Lian wasted no time in helping Wu Ming out of the car, throwing his arm over his shoulder and supporting most of his weight. Wu Ming gritted his teeth, trying to at least appear like he could walk on his own. His leg, however, had other plans. The moment he took a step forward, his knee buckled, and he stumbled.

Xie Lian caught him instantly.

Without hesitation, he swept Wu Ming up into his arms.

Wu Ming's brain short-circuited.

“Dianxia!” he yelped, utterly flustered. His hands scrambled for purchase against Xie Lian’s chest, his face burning.

“Shut up,” Xie Lian said, adjusting his hold as if Wu Ming weighed nothing. “You’re in no condition to walk.”

Wu Ming opened his mouth to argue, but one look at Xie Lian’s determined expression made him think better of it. Instead, he pressed his lips together, willing the ground to swallow him whole.

At the entrance, the guards looked up, confusion evident on their faces. Their hands hovered near their weapons until they caught sight of Black Water and Pei Xiu.

They hesitated, but noticing Black Water’s foul mood, they decided that they weren’t paid enough to deal with this and let them in.

“We need the infirmary,” Xie Lian said, his voice dropping into something colder, something that carried weight and warning.

The guards exchanged glances. “That’s–”

“Now.”

A single word was laced with quiet menace, and in an instant, the guards stiffened and nodded hastily, stepping aside. One of them gestured toward the hall ahead, mumbling, “Down that way.”

Xie Lian didn’t thank them. He simply strode forward, radiating murderous energy.

When they reached the infirmary, Xie Lian carefully lowered Wu Ming onto a bed. The moment his back hit the mattress, Wu Ming let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

The infirmary was dimly lit, the gray walls and harsh fluorescent lights giving it a cold, sterile feel. The sharp scent of antiseptic and blood hung in the air. Metal-framed beds lined one side, most empty except for one, where a gang member lay passed out, bandages wrapped haphazardly around his torso.

Near a cluttered workstation, a doctor stood, her sleeves rolled up, in the middle of…something. She looked up, unsurprised to see a group of four people barging into the room.

Wu Ming had barely adjusted to the feeling of lying down again when the door swung open with enough force to rattle the walls.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING IN MY TURF!?” Qi Rong’s furious voice rang through the room.

Black Water didn’t say a word. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, face impassive as if Qi Rong’s outburst wasn’t worth his attention.

Xie Lian, however, wasn’t in the mood for theatrics. “Wu Ming needs medical attention.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the tense air like a blade.

Qi Rong turned to him with a sneer, about to throw out another insult, until his eyes landed on Xie Lian. “Cousin?!”

Xie Lian met his glare, unfazed. “Qi Rong.”

Then, Qi Rong turned to Wu Ming, eyes narrowing. He scoffed, lips curling into a sneer. “Wait a damn second, I know you!” His voice dripped with disdain. “You’re that bastard who kept starting shit with my men! And you have the balls to come into my territory and ask for help!” He barked a laugh, shaking his head. “Ah! Like hell I’ll help you, dog fucker!”

Wu Ming mentally sighed. Qi Rong hadn’t recognized him the last time he’d seen him, so he had hoped he wouldn’t today either. Guess he wasn’t that lucky.

Before Xie Lian could retort, a small voice cut through the tension.

“Baba, you can’t let the black mister die!”

Silence fell over the room.

Then,

“Baba?!” everyone echoed in unison.

Qi Rong visibly stiffened. He turned to see a young boy—probably around eight or ten—in spiderman pajamas standing in the doorway, clutching a crumpled piece of paper.

Every single person in the room, except for the kid, stared at Qi Rong like he had grown a second head. “What the hell are you all looking at?” he barked.

The kid looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

Qi Rong groaned, rubbing his temples. “Tch. Fine, whatever! Just stop looking at me like that.” He turned to the doctor. “Fix him up.”

She nodded and immediately started to gather her medical instruments.

The boy beamed. “Thanks, Baba!”

“You know you shouldn’t be in the infirmary,” Qi Rong grumbled. “And why are you even up at this hour?”

“I know, but I was looking for you! I wanted to show you my drawing!” The kid held up the paper eagerly.

Qi Rong sighed, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I’ll see it later, I’m busy. Go back to your room.” He fished a piece of candy from his pocket and handed it to the boy.

The kid grinned. “Okay! Don’t be mean to the black mister!”

“You should side with your father, not some dog fucker like him,” Qi Rong told him as he scurried away.

“Night, baba!” the kid said as he closed the door behind him.

Wu Ming stared at the door in shock for a few seconds before the doctor stepped forward and tried to reach for the bandages around his face. It immediately snapped him out of his daze, and he grabbed her hand, with a bit too much strength, to stop her.

“I can’t help you if you don’t let me see your wounds,” she said with a disapproving frown.

He forced himself to loosen his grip but didn’t let go. His pulse pounded in his ears. “There’s no wound. My eye is fine.”

Xie Lian frowned. “Wu Ming, you should let her check.”

“There’s nothing to check,” Wu Ming said firmly, meeting Xie Lian’s gaze with as much steadiness as he could manage. “I’m not hurt.”

But Xie Lian didn’t look convinced.

Wu Ming gritted his teeth. “Really,” he pressed, voice low. “It’s not an injury. I swear.”

Xie Lian studied him for a long moment before exhaling. “…Fine.”

The doctor, still unimpressed, narrowed her eyes but didn’t push further. Instead, she moved on to his leg, muttering under her breath about difficult patients.

Wu Ming forced himself to relax, though tension still coiled tight in his gut. He could feel Xie Lian’s gaze lingering on him, but he kept his eyes fixed elsewhere, waiting for the moment to pass.

The doctor stitched Wu Ming up with quick, practiced movements, the tug of the needle barely registering past the dull throb of his leg. Once finished, she stepped back and inspected her work with a small nod.

“He’s mostly fine, but his blood loss is serious. He needs a transfusion,” she told the other persons in the room. “Do you know your blood type?” she asked Wu Ming, “I’ll do a blood test anyway, so it’s not a problem if you don’t know, but it’ll save time.”

“O positive,” he answered.

The doctor exhaled. “Hm, we don’t have any fresh O blood, but if you give me an hour, I could find some.”

“No.” Xie Lian’s response was instant, his voice like steel. “He’s not waiting an hour.”

The doctor hesitated. “He’ll be fine. His life isn’t in danger at the moment.”

At the moment?

Xie Lian shot her a sharp look. Then, without another word, he rolled up his sleeve. “I’m O negative. Use mine.”

Qi Rong let out a barking laugh. “You’re seriously giving your own blood for this idiot?”

Xie Lian ignored him.

The doctor glanced between them before sighing. “Fine.” She gestured to a chair. “Sit.”

Xie Lian obeyed, extending his arm without hesitation as she prepped the transfusion. A few minutes later, the blood was flowing from him into a collection bag. Wu Ming stared at the crimson liquid, something strange coiling in his chest.

By the time the doctor transferred the blood to him, after a quick verification that they were truly compatible, the sensation only intensified.

Xie Lian’s blood was in his veins.

His face burned at the thought, but he clenched his jaw and forced himself to stay silent.

Wu Ming must have made a weird face though because Qi Rong exclaimed, “What the fuck am I seeing?!” Eyes darting between Wu Ming and Xie Lian, his face twisted with exaggerated disbelief, like he had just witnessed a crime against nature. Then, with a dramatic scoff, he waved a hand in the air. “Cousin, what about your girlfriend, huh?”

Wu Ming’s thoughts screeched to a halt.

Girlfriend?

A sudden, involuntary wave of panic surged through him, swiftly followed by something sharper, something ugly. What do you mean, girlfriend?! His heart clenched, and before he could stop himself, his eyes darted to Xie Lian, searching for a reaction.

But Xie Lian only sighed, rubbing his temple with his free hand. He was too tired for this. “What are you talking about?”

Qi Rong rolled his eyes. “You know, the girl from the other time. Oh—” A smirk curled his lips. “Right. That wasn’t a girl.”

A loud, barking laugh burst from his lips as he slapped his knee. Wu Ming felt his stomach plummet, realization creeping up his spine.

Qi Rong wheezed. “So what about your boyfriend, then?”

Silence.

Qi Rong’s eyes flicked to Wu Ming.

Wu Ming froze.

The room felt too quiet.

Qi Rong blinked. The smirk slipped from his face as understanding slowly dawned. His eyes widened.

Then, Qi Rong grinned. A slow, delighted, utterly smug grin.

“HA!” he crowed, jabbing a finger at him. “IT WAS YOU!”

“Stop being so loud and let the doctor work.”

Black Water’s sharp voice cut through Qi Rong’s laughter like a blade. His tone was flat, unimpressed, carrying just enough weight to make Qi Rong bristle but not argue.

“Tch. Whatever,” Qi Rong muttered, rolling his eyes. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms, but the smug grin on his face remained.

The doctor, unfazed by the commotion, continued working with steady hands. Wu Ming barely felt the last tug of bandages being secured over his wound. His head was still swimming, his body sluggish, but the worst of the dizziness had passed.

“You’ll be alright, but you need to rest.” The doctor stepped back to survey her work. “I’d say don’t push yourself, but you thugs never listen.”

Wu Ming didn’t bother replying.

As the woman retreated, silence fell over the room.

Xie Lian was the first to break it. He had been watching Wu Ming silently, but now finally looked away and turned his attention to Qi Rong. His expression was unreadable. “Since when do you have a kid?”

Qi Rong huffed. “None of your damn business.”

Xie Lian frowned. “He’s yours?”

Qi Rong made an offended noise. “What kind of dumbass question is that? Of course he’s mine!”

Wu Ming blinked. The thought was disturbing.

Qi Rong. With a kid.

The same Qi Rong who was infamous for his short temper, his violent outbursts, and his complete disregard for most human decency.

And yet, the boy had seemed… happy.

Xie Lian narrowed his eyes slightly. “You’re raising him?”

Qi Rong rolled his eyes. “No, I keep him in a fucking cage and throw scraps at him,” he snapped. “Yes, I’m raising him! What do you think?”

Pei Xiu raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Qi Rong’s expression twisted. “What do you mean ‘why?’ What kind of stupid question is that?” He scoffed. “The brat showed up, I took him in. That’s it.”

“Showed up?” Xie Lian asked.

Qi Rong scowled. “I got him after his scumbag father tried to sell him off to some bottom-feeding gang.”

Xie Lian’s expression darkened. “What?”

Qi Rong crossed his arms. “Yeah. Bastard tried to traffic his own kid. Thought he could make a quick buck selling him to some lowlifes. Too bad for him, those lowlifes were also trying to move in on my turf.” He scoffed. “Green Lantern doesn’t take kindly to rats chewing at our business.”

Wu Ming blinked, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “So, what? You fought them?”

Qi Rong sneered. “Obviously. Those pieces of shit thought they could take from me? Hell no.” His grin sharpened. “We crushed them. The father got caught in the crossfire—bad luck for him.”

Xie Lian frowned, but before he could say anything, Qi Rong waved a hand dismissively. “Not like anyone’s mourning him,” he said with a disturbing smile. “After the dust settled, the brat was just standing there. Thought he’d be crying or something, but no—just staring at me with those big, creepy eyes.” His lip curled. “Then, the little gremlin latched onto me like some kind of parasite and refused to leave. Kept saying I saved him. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Xie Lian’s gaze flicked toward the door Guzi had disappeared through. “He seems… attached to you.”

Qi Rong shifted, his expression flickering for a fraction of a second before he scowled. “Yeah, well, kids are dumb like that. I feed him, so he follows me around like a damn puppy.”

“You gave him candy,” Wu Ming pointed.

Qi Rong turned to him sharply. “And? You want some too, dog fucker? I’m not giving you shit.”

Wu Ming didn’t respond, mostly because he was still trying to comprehend what he was seeing.

Qi Rong, of all people, raising a child.

And, more than that… treating him well.

Xie Lian’s gaze softened, just slightly. “You’re protecting him.”

Qi Rong’s scowl deepened. “Tch. He’s mine.”

For a long moment, no one said anything.

Then, Black Water sighed, rubbing his temples. “Can we go now? We need to get back to HQ.”

Pei Xiu nodded. “Agreed.”

Xie Lian hesitated, but after a moment, he let out a quiet breath. “Alright. We’re done here.” Before Wu Ming could move, he told him sharply, “You’re not putting pressure on your leg. I’m carrying you.”

Wu Ming didn’t have a choice but to agree.

When Xie Lian reached out, he tried to control his blush and very much ignore the noises Qi Rong made at the sight.

The ride back to Nether Water headquarters was less chaotic, but the atmosphere wasn’t less tense.

Wu Ming leaned against the window, exhaustion weighing down on him. His leg still throbbed, though dulled by the painkillers the doctor had given him. Xie Lian sat beside him, his expression unreadable as he stared ahead. Black Water remained as impassive as ever, while Pei Xiu drove in silence.

Finally, Xie Lian spoke. “What now?”

“You go back to Wuyong and pretend you don’t know anything about what happened,” Black Water answered.

Xie Lian frowned.

“Banyue made sure all the video surveillance in which you appeared was erased,” Black Water explained, “and everyone who saw Wu Ming’s face is already dead.” His eyes shifted meaningfully to Xie Lian. “The best thing to do is to keep a low profile until our final move. It would only complicate things if Jun Wu realized you were gone and tried to get you back.”

Xie Lian’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue.

“Shi Qingxuan is still there too,” Black Water added after a pause. “No one seems to be looking for you two, for now.”

Xie Lian exhaled, rubbing his temple. “…For now.”

A heavy silence settled over them once more.

By the time they reached Wuyong, the city had settled into the quiet lull of early morning. The streets were mostly empty, save for a few late-night stragglers and the occasional patrol. The towering buildings cast long, distorted shadows under the artificial glow of streetlights, and the air carried the faint scent of rain from a passing drizzle.

Wu Ming gritted his teeth as he stepped out of the car, doing his best to keep his movements steady. His leg still ached, but he forced himself to walk normally, ignoring the dull, persistent pain with practiced ease. Xie Lian, beside him, shot him a look but said nothing.

They had almost made it to their rooms when a familiar voice cut through the quiet.

“You’re limping.”

Wu Ming stiffened.

Pei Ming leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His sharp gaze flickered over Wu Ming, taking in the minute stiffness in his gait, the tension in his posture.

Wu Ming forced a smirk. “Am I?” He took another step forward, schooling his expression into something cocky. “Must’ve just slept on it wrong.”

Pei Ming’s eyes darted between the two, his eyebrows rising. “What happened to the ‘don’t insult him’?”

“Wha– that’s not what I meant!” Wu Ming snapped, his smirk slipping for half a second before he forced it back.

Pei Ming chuckled, slow and amused. “Relax, relax, loverboy.” His eyes, however, remained sharp, lingering just a little too long on the way Wu Ming shifted his weight.

Xie Lian took a step forward, subtly shifting the attention away from Wu Ming. “It’s late, Pei Ming. Did you need something?”

“Not particularly,” Pei Ming said, rocking back on his heels. “I was just out for some air when I saw you two sneaking back in. Looking a little worse for wear, I might add.” His tone was light, teasing—but there was an edge beneath it.

Wu Ming scoffed. “You’re imagining things.”

Pei Ming raised an eyebrow. “Am I? Because it’s funny… I happened to overhear a very interesting conversation earlier.” His eyes flicked between the two of them, gauging their reactions. “Shan Chu and Shui Shi were talking about an attack on a hospital. Apparently, Nether Water made a mess of the place. But I don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

Silence.

Wu Ming clenched his jaw. Xie Lian, standing beside him, remained perfectly still.

Pei Ming sighed. “Really? You’re both going to stand there and pretend you have no idea?”

Wu Ming crossed his arms. “Why would we?”

“Because,” Pei Ming said, voice still light but gaze growing colder, “from what I heard, quite a few of our people died. I don’t know what kind of place it was, but it must’ve been important if it had to be kept secret. And you two just so happened to be gone the same night.” He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Quite the coincidence, don’t you think?”

Neither Wu Ming nor Xie Lian knew what to say.

“I talked to Shui Shi afterward,” Pei Ming continued, “and he wouldn’t tell me exactly what happened, but he said that among the attackers at least three had long hair. Now, obviously, you’re not the only ones with that characteristic, but it’s still quite rare—especially in our trade.”

Wu Ming racked his brain for an excuse, anything that would justify their absence and get them out of this, but his mind was blank. Beside him, Xie Lian remained still, unreadable as ever.

Pei Ming exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Nothing? You two really aren’t going to make this easy, huh?”

Xie Lian finally spoke, his voice calm. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

Pei Ming hummed. “That’s funny, because Shan Chu seemed real interested in that hospital. You wouldn’t know why, would you?”

Wu Ming clenched his jaw. Pei Ming caught it.

He let the silence stretch before sighing dramatically. “Well, whatever. Not my problem, really. Though, I suppose if I went back and told Shan Chu I had a strong suspicion about who the attackers were, he’d probably reward me for the information. Maybe even send someone to dig deeper.”

Wu Ming exhaled sharply, shifting uncomfortably. Pei Ming had them. There was no way out of this. Not without making things worse.

“The hospital wasn’t for treating people,” Xie Lian finally said, his voice calm. “It was for harvesting them.”

Pei Ming frowned. “What?”

“They weren’t healing patients. They were cutting them open, taking their organs, and selling them.” Xie Lian met his gaze, unwavering. “That’s what the hospital was for.”

Pei Ming stared at him with an indecipherable expression. “…That’s a hell of a thing to accuse Wuyong of,” he said after a moment.

Wu Ming shrugged. “We’re not accusing. We’re telling you.”

Pei Ming let out a short laugh, but it lacked any real amusement. “You expect me to believe that Shan Chu is running an organ trafficking ring under my nose?”

“Yes,” Xie Lian said simply.

Pei Ming gave him a long look. Then he turned on his heel.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Without another word, he strode past them, heading deeper into the building.

Wu Ming exhaled sharply. “That’s it? He’s just gonna go check for himself?”

Xie Lian nodded. “It’s better than him reporting us immediately.”

Wu Ming shifted, uneasy. “Should we run? Leave before he comes back, hide?”

“It’s pointless,” Xie Lian shook his head. “And he seemed to believe us. Or at least take the accusation seriously. I want to believe that he’ll make the right choice.”

He glanced at Wu Ming, taking in the exhaustion written all over his face. “Let’s just try and get some sleep. You still need to rest.”

Silence lingered for a moment, before Xie Lian and Wu Ming quietly made their way back to their rooms. The tension still lingered, but exhaustion weighed heavier.

Neither of them spoke when they arrived in front of their doors.

Xie Lian was the first to open his door, but instead of walking inside, he hesitated. His fingers lingered on the handle as he glanced at Wu Ming, taking in the tension still coiled in his posture despite the exhaustion dulling his expression.

Then, without a word, he pushed the door open a bit wider—just enough to make the invitation clear—, something vulnerable in his eyes.

Wu Ming hesitated for only a second before stepping inside, his own room forgotten. It’s better if we don’t split up now, he told himself. Just in case.

The door shut softly behind them. Inside the quiet room, Xie Lian moved toward his wardrobe, pulling it open without hesitation. He rifled through the neatly folded clothes before tossing a pair of pajamas toward Wu Ming.

“Here.”

Wu Ming caught them, blinking. He restrained himself from saying that he had his own clothes in the next room. He didn’t want to disrupt the weirdly comfortable atmosphere that had settled.

Xie Lian turned around to change, and Wu Ming followed suit without another word. He sat on the edge of the bed—thankfully queen sized—, rubbing a hand over his face. His leg still throbbed, but the ache was distant now, dulled by sheer fatigue.

When Xie Lian came back from the bathroom, he watched Wu Ming for a moment before sighing. “Get some sleep.”

“Mn. You too.”

Then they both quietly settled in the bed. The silence wasn’t heavy, wasn’t suffocating. Just… there.

Eventually, Xie Lian shifted, rolling onto his side to face away. Wu Ming did the same, lying still, eyes open, listening to the faint hum of the city outside.

It wasn’t long before sleep pulled them both under.

The next day—or rather, later in the day, well past noon—there was a sharp knock at the door.

Wu Ming was the first to stir. He blinked blearily at the ceiling, disoriented for a moment before he remembered where he was. Beside him, Xie Lian shifted but didn’t get up immediately.

The knock came again, more insistent.

This time, Xie Lian pushed back the blankets and walked toward the door, rubbing at his eyes before pulling it open.

Pei Ming stood on the other side.

His usual easygoing demeanor was nowhere to be found. Instead, his expression was grim, his posture stiff. His eyes flicked past Xie Lian to Wu Ming, who was now sitting up in bed, watching him carefully.

“Well?” Xie Lian asked, his voice quiet but steady.

Pei Ming let out a breath. “You were right.”

Neither Wu Ming nor Xie Lian reacted outwardly, but the tension in the air shifted.

Pei Ming stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. “I had a talk with Shi Wudu,” he continued, running a hand through his hair. “Around a few too many drinks. And… well.” He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “Turns out, I didn’t know half the shit going on under my own nose.”

His voice was tight, laced with something like fury—not at them, but at himself. At Wuyong.

Did Shi Wudu really talk that easily? Wu Ming wondered.

He watched Pei Ming carefully. “So?”

Pei Ming’s gaze snapped to him, sharp and unwavering. “So,” he said, his voice firm, “I don’t know what your plan is with Nether Water, but if I can help, I will.”

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, quieter this time.

“I may not be a good guy, but I’m not a monster.”

Chapter Text

They waited anxiously to hear any news from Black Water or Jun Wu, until a few hours later, when Ling Wen summoned them in her office.

When they walked in, Pei Ming was already there, his usual relaxed demeanor intact, but Wu Ming could see the tension in his shoulders.

Ling Wen sat behind her desk, her eyes scanning a document before setting it down with a thud. “Where were you last night?” she asked, her voice even but laced with suspicion.

Wu Ming kept his expression neutral, already coming up with an excuse when Pei Ming butted in.

“Is that what this is about? They were with me,” he said smoothly, leaning against the doorframe. “I had some matters to discuss, and we ended up drinking until late. I figured it wasn’t worth reporting.”

Ling Wen’s sharp gaze flickered to him. “Drinking?”

Pei Ming shrugged. “You know how it is. Time got away from us.”

Wu Ming carefully kept his posture loose, casual. Xie Lian didn’t react at all.

Ling Wen studied them for a moment before exhaling through her nose, seemingly satisfied. “Fine,” she said, dismissing the matter. “There’s a job for you.”

Wu Ming arched a brow. “A job?”

“Collecting debts,” Ling Wen replied. “Simple enough.”

Wu Ming frowned. “Isn’t that usually Yin Yu’s mission? Shouldn’t he be the one to go?”

For the first time, something shifted in Ling Wen’s expression. It was subtle—just the slightest flicker of hesitation, the barest pause before she responded.

“He’s not here anymore.”

A cold feeling crept into Wu Ming’s stomach. “What do you mean?”

“He was banished,” she simply answered.

Wu Ming’s heart pounded. Banished? What the fuck did that mean? Was he–?

Frowning but keeping his voice calm, he asked, “Why?”

Ling Wen leaned back in her chair. “It came to light that he had been working to undermine the triad’s influence for some time now.”

“What happened to him?”

There was a beat of silence before Ling Wen answered, her tone matter-of-factly, “Shan Chu ordered to kill him, but due to some… interference, he was able to escape. Though I doubt he’ll be able to run for long.”

Xie Lian’s gaze sharpened. “Interference?”

Ling Wen sighed, sounding tired. “Another member, Qi Ying, chose to take his side. They’re both currently wanted. But like I said, you don’t have to worry, we’ll find them soon enough.”

The words settled heavily in the room.

Wu Ming forced himself to nod, to keep his expression impassive, but his mind was already racing.

Yin Yu was gone.

And if Jun Wu wanted him dead, then he wouldn’t stop hunting him. Not until he was sure the job was finished.

He hadn’t known the man for long, but he knew that he didn’t deserve it.

A sour taste lingered in Wu Ming’s mouth.

Xie Lian shot him a subtle look, as if sensing his thoughts. Wu Ming exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. Now wasn’t the time.

Ling Wen’s voice pulled them back to the present. “In any case, this is an easy assignment. Wu Ming, you already know the place. I believe it was you who went with Yin Yu last month.”

She gave them the details quickly, waving them off with a flick of her hand. “Just collect what’s owed. Same place, same people.  Here,” she handed him a letter, “this is the exact amount. Be sure that they give it in full. We’ll be counting.”

Wu Ming tried not to flinch at that. He nodded, keeping his mouth shut.

Outside, he walked beside Xie Lian in silence. He didn’t say where they were going, and Xie Lian didn’t ask.

The further they got from the office, the heavier his chest felt. What was he supposed to do?

The last time he’d gone, Yin Yu had taken the lead. Told him to wait by the door while he handled things. Wu Ming had stood awkwardly in the corridor, half-listening, half-pretending not to listen as Yin Yu talked softly with the owner, his voice low and patient. The exchange had gone well because Yin Yu had done everything he could to help the owner. They had seemed to have known each other for a long time, but now he was gone. And Wu Ming didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do. He couldn’t help her like Yin Yu did and use his own money. Now that Wuyong had caught on to that, they would notice it immediately.

By the time they arrived, it was already midafternoon. The building hadn’t changed much from the outside. Still, something about it felt off.

Red and pink hues still bled from the flickering neon signs above the entrance, but the music, once lewd and pounding, now trickled faintly through the cracked windows like a ghost of itself.

Most of the crowd was gone.

No line of men loitering by the stairs. No boisterous laughter, no drunken shouts. Even the women who stood by the door last time were nowhere to be seen.

Xie Lian looked at the building with an unreadable expression and didn’t say anything.

They climbed the stairs.

Wu Ming had been dreading this walk ever since Ling Wen gave the order. Going back there felt wrong enough. Going there with Xie Lian felt like some kind of punishment from the heavens.

As they walked inside, a couple of women glanced up from a couch, their posture tensing when they noticed the two Wuyong officers in the room. They swiftly stood up and left the hall, disappearing behind a hidden door.

Great.

Unsure of what else to do, Wu Ming headed toward the reception desk. He could feel Xie Lian’s presence beside him, quiet but impossible to ignore. Every step made his neck hotter. He’d never felt this aware of his own limbs before — or how very not-casual this place was.

For fuck’s sake, they were here for business! Why was he freaking out like that?

Behind the counter sat a woman with sharp white eyeliner and bleached hair tied into a high ponytail. Her nails clicked against the keyboard as she typed, not sparing them a glance.

Before Wu Ming could say anything, she spoke in a monotone voice. “Bar or room? Please go to the other receptions desk if you want to get access to the bar.”

“No, we don’t–” Wu Ming tried to explain, mortified.

But the woman interrupted him without missing a beat. “Room then. Woman or man? Or both?”

Before Wu Ming could claw his way further into the grave of awkwardness, Xie Lian cleared his throat. Loudly. That finally made the woman look up with a frown, eyes flicking between them. Then she blinked, recognition dawning.

“Oh,” she exhaled nervously, sitting up straighter. “Sorry about that.”

Wu Ming gave a weak, awkward nod, unable to meet Xie Lian’s gaze. “We’re here to see the owner,” he said, his voice weirdly high and strained like it was escaping from someone else’s mouth.

The woman tilted her head toward the hallway. “Right. Of course. Second door on the left. The madam will come meet you there.”

“Right,” Wu Ming echoed again, wooden.

The moment her attention flicked back to her screen, he turned on his heel and fled toward the hall with the determined stiffness of someone trying not to run from a crime scene. He didn’t need a mirror to know his face was red.

Gods. What a disaster.

Don’t look at him, don’t look at him, don’t look at him, he repeated in his head like a mantra, resisting every urge to sneak a glance at Xie Lian. He hated himself. He was clearly overreacting. It wasn’t even that bad, really. It was just… that Xie Lian was there.

That made it so much worse.

This day could not end fast enough.

They walked in awkward silence down the dim corridor to the indicated door. The carpets were a little more worn than before, the walls quieter. It felt like a walk of shame until they arrived and he suddenly remembered why they were actually there. Then, another kind of shame took over.

They didn’t have to wait long before a woman with perfect makeup – probably in her late 50s, though it was hard to estimate her age – entered the room.

She stopped when she saw them. Her expression flattened.

“Oh,” she said. “So he’s really not coming back.”

Wu Ming swallowed. “No.”

A pause. “What happened to him?”

Wu Ming hesitated. She deserved to know, but he wasn’t sure what to say. And she was a total stranger.

“He…” He cleared his throat. “He’s not with Wuyong anymore.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, though her voice remained steady. “Is he dead?”

Wu Ming didn’t answer right away. “…No.”

Beside him, Xie Lian stepped forward slightly, taking over. “He was accused of betraying the triad. They sent people to kill him, but they didn’t find him yet.”

“Yet. So he will die.” Her voice didn’t tremble. She just said it like it was a fact, inevitable. She stared at the wall for a long moment before adding with a softer voice, “He was a good man.”

Wu Ming nodded, his throat tight. “I know.”

Silence stretched. Then, more quietly, she asked, “Was it because of me?”

Wu Ming blinked. “What?”

“He never took full payments. He always said it was fine, that he’d handle it. I told him I’d catch up, but…” she shook her head, jaw tightening. “Was it because he helped me?”

“No,” Wu Ming said quickly.

Xie Lian echoed, gently, “It wasn’t your fault.”

But the woman didn’t look convinced. Her arms crossed slowly over her chest, her eyes still fixed somewhere beyond them. “Then why did they come after him?”

Neither of them had an answer.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then she sighed again, softer this time. “You here to collect?”

Wu Ming flinched, just barely. “...Yes.”

She leaned back, looking at them both with a weary kind of resignation. “Well. Let’s get it over with.”

Wu Ming reached into his coat and pulled out the bill Ling Wen had handed him earlier, unfolding it and setting it carefully on the table in front of her. The woman glanced at it. Her eyes scanned the numbers, and her lips drew into a thin line.

She sighed, long and slow. “I guess there’s no getting out of it this time.”

Without another word, she got up and stepped into the back room.

The silence stretched.

Wu Ming stood stiffly, his hands clenched at his sides. He could feel Xie Lian watching him, but he didn’t look over.

When the woman returned, she was carrying a steel lockbox, heavy in her arms. She set it on the table with a thud and opened it. Inside was a meticulously organized stack of bills—tens, fifties, hundreds—bundled with elastic, some newer than others, some worn soft at the edges.

She began to count.

It took time.

The soft rhythm of bills slapping against wood filled the room. Her fingers were steady, but Wu Ming could see how carefully she moved—like she was holding something fragile, or final.

When she reached the total, she slid the stacks toward him.

“All of it,” she said simply. “I was saving some for repairs. Some for the girls. But this place’ll last a little longer. We always do.”

Wu Ming stared at the pile.

His fingers moved automatically, recounting the total, because he had to. Because Ling Wen would know if he didn’t. He felt like a terrible person. Each bill he counted pressed heavier on his chest. But it wouldn’t be for long, he told himself. This was the last payment they would ever have to make.

The amount was exact.

Every single yuan.

He slipped the money into a bag, careful not to look at her again. He hated himself for it.

They left through a back entrance. The alley behind the brothel was narrow and quiet, lined with cracked pavement and the soft hum of an old AC unit rattling above. Wu Ming exhaled, thinking they’d made it out without any more humiliation.

“Back already, handsome? Didn’t have enough?”

Wu Ming flinched so hard he nearly tripped.

Standing by a side door with a cigarette in hand was Lan Chang. She gave him a lazy grin, eyes flicking him up and down.

He could feel Xie Lian turning to look at him.

Wu Ming panicked. “Uuh–no! I’m, that’s not–” He waved his hands in front of him, horrified. “We just crossed paths! On the last mission! With Yin Yu!” he tried to explain.

Xie Lian raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to make sense of the scene.

Lan Chang’s grin widened when she noticed him. “Ooh? This one’s cute too.”

She turned her attention to Xie Lian, stepping forward just a little too close. “Are you busy, sweetheart? I’d love to have a chat.”

Xie Lian tried to give her a polite smile, but Wu Ming could see how tense it was. “I’m not into women, I’m afraid.”

What?

…

What?!

Wait, wait, what did that mean? Did that mean that he was into men? Did it?! Wait, no, not necessarily. But did it?!

What do I do with that information? What am I supposed to do with that information?!

Wu Ming ears were ringing. His mouth had gone dry. His heart did something extremely unhelpful like skip five beats and then punch him in the chest from the inside.

He tried not to stare at Xie Lian—tried being the keyword here—as if it would give him the answers to all his questions. Don’t react. Stay calm. Be normal. Gods. I’m so not being normal right now.

Even if Xie Lian was into men, there was absolutely no way that he would ever consider him as an option, so that information changed absolutely nothing. Right? Right?

Lan Chang laughed, throwing her head back. “Ha! Funny. Your friend said the exact same thing.”

Wu Ming froze. What. The. Fuck.

Xie Lian blinked slowly. “...He did?”

It was Xie Lian’s turn to stare at him. Wu Ming could feel his eyes burn a hole through his head, but he refused to look back at him. Maybe if he stared at the wall hard enough it would make him disappear.

Lan Chang paused, cigarette halfway to her mouth. Her gaze flicked between them.

Then, suddenly, she straightened, snapped her fingers, and let out an exaggerated, clearly fake laugh.

“Ahaha! Haha. Wait, wait–are you…?” She pointed vaguely between the two of them. “Oh no, I was joking. I’ve never met this man in my life.”

She gestured dismissively at Wu Ming like he was a stranger passing on the street. “Nope. Never seen him before. Couldn’t even tell you his name. Maybe it was… Lu Bing? Zu Ming? Anyway, who’s to say!”

Wu Ming stared at her in a mix of disbelief and mortification, his face burning. If there was a hole to crawl into right now, he would’ve leapt straight into it. Was she trying to dig his grave? What the fuck?

“We should go,” he said quickly, voice strained, praying for this interaction to just stop. “Dianxia, let’s just–”

“Dianxia?” Lan Chang repeated. “Oh, you’re the Dianxia! You’re…” A sudden realization seemed to dawn on her, and her eyes widened as she took in the nickname.

Her hand froze in midair, the cigarette now dangling from her fingers. She stared at Xie Lian for a long moment, as if she was piecing something together, and then her face went pale.

“Oh,” she whispered under her breath. “Wait. No, no– shit. You’re… Fuck. How are you here? What the hell?”

Xie Lian’s brows furrowed, confused. But before he could say anything, Lan Chang's expression shifted again. She quickly turned on her heel, taking a few frantic steps back, and then broke into a wild, nervous laugh.

“Ah, never mind! Haha! I’ve gotta go! Sorry for the mix-up!” She shot them both one last look, eyes wide, clearly rattled. “I… uh, I’ll just go. Take care of yourselves boys!”

She turned, disappearing down the alley before either of them could ask her anything. The sound of her footsteps echoed for a moment before she vanished into the distance.

Xie Lian stood still, his gaze fixed on the spot where Lan Chang had been standing a mere seconds ago. His face was slowly shifting, his eyes narrowing, his expression deepening as recognition clicked into place.

A shadow passed over his features, and his voice was quiet but certain when he finally spoke.

“…I know her.”

Wu Ming opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. Obviously, he couldn’t just say, “Yeah, I know”.

Instead, he said, “You do?”

Xie Lian nodded slowly, his eyes distant now, like he was seeing something far beyond the alleyway. “She used to go by Jian Lan. She dated one of my childhood friends. They were together for years before she suddenly disappeared. We never knew what happened to her…” Xie Lian’s voice trailed off as the words hung in the air, unfinished. “It’s been so many years. But I still should…” He stopped himself before he could finish his sentence.

Should what? Tell Feng Xin? Wu Ming could guess that it was what Xie Lian had meant to say, but even though he had never asked, it was obvious that the two had lost contact a long time ago.

Xie Lian shook his head. “Never mind. Let’s just go back. We still need to finish the job.”

Wu Ming nodded, though he could feel the weight of the unsaid words still hanging in the air. He didn’t push, and gave Xie Lian the space he needed to think.

The next day, the weather had turned colder. Gray clouds hung low over the city, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement as Wu Ming and Xie Lian made their way through Nether Water’s sprawling territory as they were supposed to meet Black Water for a debrief about the hospital raid.

They turned a corner when the sound of shouting caught their attention.

Wu Ming instinctively stepped in front of Xie Lian, his hand twitching toward the hidden blade beneath his coat, but Xie Lian pulled him back. “Wait.”

A cluster of Nether Water agents – recognizable by the skeletal fish tattoos on their necks – had surrounded two figures. They were dragging them toward an unmarked van parked by the curb.

Wu Ming blinked. His stomach dropped.

“That’s…” he muttered. He didn’t need to finish.

Even through the grime and blood and resistance, Wu Ming could recognize Yin Yu. His coat was torn and his face bruised. Next to him, a tall man with curly hair – that Wu Ming assumed to be Qi Ying – looked furious, practically vibrating with rage, teeth bared, restrained by four agents who looked like they were regretting their life choices.

Yin Yu’s gaze lifted, sharp and wary, and the moment their eyes met, Wu Ming saw something flicker behind it. Surprise, and a flicker of hope.

“Move,” one of the agents barked at him and Xie Lian, waving them aside like they were in the way. “You have nothing to do here.”

“We’re here to see Black Water,” Xie Lian said coolly, stepping forward and showing him a token Black Water had given them.

The agent hesitated. “We’ve been ordered to bring them in. If you’ve got business, I don’t think the boss will have time for you.”

“We’ll come with you then,” Xie Lian said.

The man hesitated again, but eventually nodded.

The back doors of the van slammed shut behind them with a dull metallic thud as the agents finally succeeded dragging Qi Ying inside.

Wu Ming ended up seated directly across from Yin Yu, their knees nearly touching in the cramped space. Yin Yu didn’t say anything, only shifted slightly to sit upright, his movements careful. A cut on his temple was still bleeding.

Beside him, Qi Ying struggled against his restraints with unrelenting force. His teeth were clenched, arms braced as if he could snap the cuffs through sheer will. One of the agents barked at him to sit still.

“Qi Ying,” Yin Yu said quietly.

He didn’t stop.

“Qi Ying,” Yin Yu repeated, firmer now. “Enough.”

That got through. Qi Ying froze like a startled animal, breathing hard. He didn’t look at Yin Yu, but he stopped fighting.

A beat passed. Then another.

Silence settled in the van, so thick it rang in Wu Ming’s ears.

Yin Yu’s head leaned back against the metal wall with a soft thump, his eyes closing briefly.

Wu Ming kept glancing at him, wanting to ask what they were doing in Nether Water territory, but bit back the question.

Xie Lian didn’t speak either. He sat beside Wu Ming, his hands folded neatly, calm and unreadable.

No one said anything for the rest of the ride.

The van rattled down uneven streets, every bump jostling them closer.

They came to a stop in front of a nondescript building. The doors clanged open, and the agents herded everyone out into the open only for a brief moment before leading them inside and through a maze of corridors.

They descended a long staircase, then entered a narrow hallway that led to a heavy, reinforced door. One of the guards unlocked it, and the group was ushered into a room that was…

Gloomy didn’t quite cover it.

The walls were thick concrete, windowless, stained in places with watermarks or worse. A single metal table sat in the center with mismatched chairs on either side. Chains were bolted to the floor—uncomfortably close to one of the chairs. A drain in the corner was slick and dark. The lights above were too dim to fully see the ceiling, which made the shadows feel heavier.

Wu Ming didn’t want to think about what the room was used for.

Waiting inside were two familiar figures.

Shi Qingxuan stood with her arms crossed in a pastel green dress, long hair tied back in a ponytail by a flower clip matching the daisies painted around her eyes. She offered a small, unsure smile as the group approached.

Next to her, Black Water did not smile. His expression was as flat and cold as the room itself, arms behind his back. His gaze flicked briefly to Xie Lian and Wu Ming, his brows furrowed.

The guards forced Yin Yu and Qi Ying to seat on the rusted chairs.

“What’s going on?” Xie Lian asked.

Black Water gave him a withering look. “What it looks like. Two Wuyong officers were found snooping around in my territory. I want to know what they were trying to achieve.”

Yin Yu, still flanked by two agents, straightened slightly. “Former Wuyong officers,” he corrected.

Black Water’s eyes narrowed. “Oh really? And what were you doing in my territory?”

Yin Yu turned slightly, addressing Shi Qingxuan instead of him – clearly having recognized her, though no surprise showed on his face. “You know Jun Wu sent people after us. To ‘dispose of us’. I thought… Nether Water territory might be the one place they wouldn’t follow us to.”

Black Water gave a snort, a single sharp exhale of disbelief. “And you thought you’d be safe here?”

Yin Yu met his gaze without flinching. “Well, no. But I’d rather be caught by you than by Wuyong. No offense.”

Black Water crossed the room slowly, boots echoing dully against the floor. He didn’t sit. He didn’t blink either. “You expect me to believe that? That two officers—two high-ranking officers—suddenly turned their backs on Wuyong and wandered into my territory hoping I wouldn’t torture them for information out of the kindness of my heart?”

Yin Yu didn’t speak again.

Shi Qingxuan tilted her head. “I don’t know. I always had the impression that Yin Yu was a nice guy.” She lowered her voice, though it didn’t stop anyone from hearing her. “And Quan Yizhen isn’t really smart enough to plot anything on his own.”

Quan Yizhen – which Wu Ming assumed was Qi Ying’s real name – spoke from where he sat handcuffed to the table. “Yin Yu is the nicest guy!”

Said Yin Yu immediately winced at that.

Wu Ming stepped forward. “I believe he’s telling the truth too.” Black Water looked pissed by his intervention but let him continue. “When I was on a mission with him, collecting debts from a place that owed Wuyong…” Wu Ming hesitated. He wasn’t sure how much Black Water knew about it. Lan Chang had more or less said that she worked as a spy for Nether Water, but Wu Ming wasn’t sure how to bring it up in front of Xie Lian. That hadn’t talked about her again at all and Xie Lian clearly didn’t like speaking about his past.

In the end, he decided to hold up that conversation for a while longer and not mention her at all. “Yin Yu used his own salary to cover part of what they couldn’t pay, so they wouldn’t get punished, putting himself at risk. I don’t think that he’s the kind of person who would sneak into your territory to cause problems.”

Black Water didn’t look impressed. “I’ve been told about that,” he said flatly. “But with people who’ve worked so closely with Jun Wu, we can never be sure.”

Shi Qingxuan leaned forward, hands clasped behind her back. “Don’t you trust me, Hei-jie?” she asked sweetly.

Black Water shot her a look so dry it could’ve started a fire. He didn’t answer.

Shi Qingxuan just smiled wider. “Well, I think we should hear them out.”

There was a long pause.

Then, quietly, Yin Yu spoke. “We don’t want anything to do with triads. We never did.”

Black Water wasn’t moved. “How did you become the straw sandal of the most powerful triad around, then?”

Yin Yu glanced at Quan Yizhen, who seemed too busy trying to chew through his handcuffs to notice. His voice was low when he spoke. “We grew up together. In a part of town that people don’t even bother pretending to fix. Yizhen was always… getting into fights. Picking them with the worst kind of people.”

Quan Yizhen, helpfully, muttered, “They were insulting you.”

Yin Yu ignored him. “He was strong. Too strong. It drew attention. One day, some men came. Said they’d been watching. Said they could make something out of us. They first only wanted to recruit him. Yizhen didn’t understand who they were, just thought it sounded cool to fight and make money out of it. But he still refused to go without me.”

He looked down at his hands, fingers curling. “So they offered to take me too. I said no at first. But my father– he left me with all his gambling debts. I was seventeen. No family. No way out.”

His voice went flat. “Eventually, I said yes.”

He looked up, eyes steady. “It opened doors. I was stupid and ambitious and thought that maybe I could build a future. So I worked. I climbed. I told myself I’d fix everything once I had enough power. But by the time I realized what I’d become, it was too late. You don’t just leave Wuyong, not without dying.” Yin Yu gave a brittle, self-mocking smile. “I was too much of a coward to die. Even if it meant people suffered because of me.”

For a long moment, Black Water said nothing. Then, finally, with a sigh that sounded like it had been dragged out of him by force, he said, “Fine.”

Everyone in the room looked up.

“I’ll give you a chance,” Black Water said, his voice low and clipped. “You’re not walking free, but I’ll shelter you. For now. As long as you cooperate and tell us everything you know. Everything. About Jun Wu. About Wuyong. About whatever the hell you were doing there.”

Yin Yu didn’t hesitate. “Deal.”

Black Water raised an eyebrow at how quickly he answered, but said nothing.

Quan Yizhen looked at Yin Yu and then said, “Wait, are we staying here now?”

Shi Qingxuan clapped her hands together. “Great! I’ll have someone clean a room!”

Black Water shot her a look. “No.”

Shi Qingxuan gave him a thumbs-up. “Got it. I’ll do it myself.”

Black Water groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Wu Ming exhaled, relief soft and cautious. Xie Lian didn’t smile, but something in his shoulders eased. And Yin Yu, for the first time since they had seen him, looked a little less like he was waiting to be killed.

Chapter Text

Wu Ming couldn’t sleep. His leg ached. Not sharp, not unbearable, just a steady, dull throb. The wound was healing clean, but the ache refused to leave him alone. Not bad enough to justify stronger painkillers but just annoying enough to keep sleep out of reach.

He lay on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, willing his body to relax. Beside him, Xie Lian slept soundly, his breathing slow and even. Wu Ming could feel the warmth of him under the covers, the faint brush of his sleeve against Wu Ming’s arm.

He resisted the urge to shift again, teeth gritted against the pulse in his thigh. Every twitch risked waking Xie Lian, and the last thing he wanted was to disturb him. He’d barely been sleeping at all lately, and Wu Ming didn’t want to be the reason that changed.

They had naturally found themselves going to sleep in the same bed again that night. Neither of them had questioned it. But now, lying there wide awake and buzzing with tension while Xie Lian slept inches away, Wu Ming felt like a live wire in a quiet room.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. The ache didn’t fade.

Eventually, he gave up. Carefully, Wu Ming eased out from under the blanket, moving slow to keep the mattress from dipping too much. His feet touched the floor without a sound. He sat for a moment, rubbing at his leg, then reached for his jacket slung over the chair. The hallway outside was dark and still as he slipped out.

A walk certainly wouldn’t help with the pain. If anything, it would make it worse. But it might help him escape that infuriating state between rest and unrest where nothing felt quite real except the dull, gnawing pulse in his leg. And more importantly, it would get him out of the room before he risked waking Xie Lian.

The compound was quiet in a suffocating kind of way. Too quiet. No laughter, no late-night guards playing cards, no shuffle of boots outside the armory door. Just shadows and the distant hum of electricity bleeding through the walls.

As he went down the stairs, he let his mind drift to what would happen next. The inevitable storm ahead. He didn’t like thinking too far forward, but tonight he couldn’t stop himself.

Black Water’s voice echoed in his head, calm and calculated as ever: “The police will act within the week. They’ve started their own investigation thanks to what we gave them. In the meantime, Wuyong can’t be allowed to move anything – or anyone.”

Black Water had contacts. Deep ones. And Wu Ming didn’t doubt him. What he did doubt was the plan’s waiting game. Sit still. Watch. Don’t tip the scales until the exact moment. It left too much time for shit to go wrong.

And even if everything went exactly according to plan… then what? Where would they go? What would Xie Lian want to do? Probably leave all this behind, this life, this violence, this darkness. Probably run as far from it as he could. And that would mean running from him, too. The thought stabbed his heart like a knife. He could fight a hundred enemies in a burning room and keep his head. But this, this quiet kind of hurt, he didn’t know how to brace for.

He walked until the stone under his feet gave way to cracked garden tiles. Moonlight spilled across the courtyard, carving sharp lines between branches. He veered into the northwest corner, where he knew the camera coverage had a dead zone.

He sat on the edge of the low wall, eyes naturally drifting up toward Xie Lian’s window. A faint light inside.

Shit. He must have sensed him leave. Must have woken up. Guilt prickled low in Wu Ming’s chest. He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over Xie Lian’s contact, about to text, to say something dumb like “Just taking a walk”–

Then the light shifted.

He froze. A sharp flash. A shadow – no, two. Movement. Something fast. Violent.

His heart snapped into gear before his brain could catch up.

He was already running.

The compound blurred around him. He ignored the way his lungs burned, the ache in his leg forgotten. Turned the corner too fast. Skidded down the hallway and slammed the door open–

Too late. There was no sign of Xie Lian. No blood, no body, but the room was a mess. The chair by the window knocked over. A lamp on the floor, its bulb flickering weakly. The bedsheets half-pulled off, like someone had struggled.

His breath caught sharp in his throat.

Something moved behind him. Voices, footsteps, coming fast.

He didn’t think. Just reached for the tank in the corner and yanked it open, but it was empty. His breath caught sharp in his throat. Panic surged, as he scanned the room again.

A flash of white, low to the ground. Something shifting, barely visible, half-tucked beneath the bed. He dropped to his knees and reached for it without thinking.

Ruoye.

The snake coiled around his wrist instantly, recognizing him. Wu Ming tucked the animal into his jacket, hand tightening protectively over the soft coils, then he ran.

Down the hall, sharp turn at the stairwell. He vaulted the railing halfway down to avoid the footsteps closing in behind him, landed hard on his bad leg, pain spiking white-hot, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

They were already calling out. “There! That way!”

He ducked into the lower corridor toward the emergency exit.

Locked.

He cursed low under his breath and turned back, nearly collided with two more Wuyong men cutting off the hall behind him. He ducked into the laundry room, shoved a rack into their path, and dove out through the loading bay door just before they reached it.

The cold night air slammed into him like a wall. The outer courtyard. He sprinted toward the fence, every step a jolt of agony through his leg.

Gunshots cracked behind him.

Stone shattered at his side. He didn’t stop. Couldn’t. He jumped the first wall, rolled hard onto the other side, dragging himself up on adrenaline alone. Vaulted the second – barely. His bad leg caught on the top edge and he hit the ground harder than he meant to, teeth clacking. Ruoye tightened against his chest but didn’t move otherwise.

He lay there for a second, flat on his back, vision swimming. His breath burned in his throat.

Move.

He forced himself up. He didn’t stop. But the shadows didn’t stop chasing him either.

A van screeched around the corner ahead of him. Another set of footsteps echoed behind.

Shit.

He turned sharply, cut through a narrow alley. By the time he reached the end of the alley, they were already there. Seven, maybe eight of them. Spaced out, methodical. Guns drawn.

And then – gunfire.

One of the men dropped. Then another.

The rest scattered for cover, shouting, but the gunfire didn’t stop. It came from the rooftops, precise, practiced. Someone vaulted down into the street from a fire escape. A blur of motion. Pei Ming.

He fired without hesitation. No warning. No mercy. Shot two of his own men in the back as they tried to regroup.

“General Ming Guang?” one of them choked before collapsing.

And from the other end of the alley, another figure emerged – dark hoodie, steady aim, eyes like cut obsidian. Black Water.

He didn’t pause either. Fired twice, then three more times. Clean. Efficient.

When the last body hit the pavement, silence dropped like a curtain.

Wu Ming pushed off the wall, panting, still holding Ruoye against his chest.

Pei Ming turned his gun on Black Water. Black Water didn’t flinch. He leveled his own weapon in response, calm and cold.

“Ming Yi, wasn’t it?” Pei Ming asked. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

“You shot your own people,” Black Water replied. “So you tell me.”

The air stretched tight between them, until Wu Ming rasped, “Stop.”

“Everyone who needed to be shot is dead,” Wu Ming said, chest heaving. “You’re both on the same fucking side.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Black Water retorted, not lowering his weapon.

“We already told you,” Wu Ming snapped. He had no patience to spare at the moment. He didn’t even have time to be grateful that they saved his life. The only thought in his mind was Xie Lian.

Black Water’s jaw tensed. “Well, sorry to emit reservations. I’ve known him longer than you,” he said, nodding at Pei Ming, “and he has nothing to win by going against Jun Wu.”

Pei Ming scoffed. “Wu Ming, mind telling me what the fuck is going on?”

Black Water cut in before Wu Ming could answer. “All you need to know is that I work for Nether Water,” he said flatly. Then, to Wu Ming: “We shouldn’t stay here. Let’s move.” He turned back to Pei Ming. “You’re coming. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Pei Ming opened his mouth, a sharp retort already loading on the tip of his tongue–

But Wu Ming cut across both of them, voice raw and cracking at the edges. “What happened to Xie Lian?” he choked out. “Where is he?”

When neither of them answered, he asked again, this time more threatening, “Where. Is. He?!”

Xie Lian rocked his weight forward, trying again to tilt the chair. It didn’t budge.

A sharp clang of metal confirmed what he’d already started to suspect: the legs were bolted to the ground.

Of course.

He slumped back, jaw tight. No give. No momentum. No chance of using his own body weight to force a fall.

He flexed his wrists again, slow and deliberate. The zip ties bit in with every movement. No slippage, no weakness in the plastic. His fingers were already going numb.

He let his head drop forward for a moment. Then lifted it again and scanned the room for what had to be the hundredth time. Walls bare. No sharp edges. No shelves. No tools. No mirror, no camera he could see – though that didn’t mean they weren’t watching. Just a door, shut tight behind him.

He exhaled through his nose, slow and shaky.

What had happened to Wu Ming?

He hadn’t been here when they took him. Had Wu Ming gotten away? Or had they taken him, too? But if he had been taken, he would’ve been here. Beside him. They’d want leverage.

Unless–

Xie Lian’s hands curled instinctively into fists, plastic cutting deeper into skin.

He knew Jun Wu wouldn’t kill him. He’d rather keep him alive. Twist him. Use him.

But Wu Ming? Jun Wu wouldn’t even hesitate.

“Fuck,” Xie Lian whispered, low and sharp.

His pulse pounded loud in his ears. He tried to quiet his thoughts, to push the panic down. Wu Ming was smart and strong. He could’ve gotten out. He had to have gotten out.

But Xie Lian couldn’t shake the sick feeling growing in his gut.

He forced another breath in. Held it. Let it go slow.

One thing at a time. Right now, he needed to find a way to get out.

The lock clicked.

A shift in the air. Then the door creaked open on silent hinges.

Xie Lian’s head snapped up.

Jun Wu stepped inside. Calm. Composed. Like this was nothing out of the ordinary.

He closed the door behind him with quiet finality.

“Xianle,” he said, voice smooth, sinking his familiar chilling tooths into Xie Lian. He took a few steps forward, unhurried, hands clasped loosely behind his back. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper conversation,” he said mildly. “I thought we were overdue.”

Xie Lian stayed silent. His eyes tracked Jun Wu’s movements, but his face gave nothing away.

Jun Wu stopped a few feet in front of him, tilting his head slightly as if studying him. “You’re not hurt, are you? They were told to be careful. I hope they followed instructions.”

Xie Lian let the quiet stretch. Then, evenly, “Let me go.”

Jun Wu smiled, faint and unbothered. “We both know I can’t do that.”

He said it like he was declining a dinner invitation.

“You shouldn’t have gone looking, Xianle. You were doing so well.” He turned slightly, glancing at the corner of the room like he could see memories there. “You had your place here. I gave you everything. And you chose to betray it.”

Xie Lian’s voice cut in, sharp and steady. “What do you want from me?”

Jun Wu didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took another step forward, smile faint. “How long have we known each other?” he asked, almost thoughtfully. “Almost fifteen years now, right? You were such an adorable child. You liked me much more back then. I wonder what happened.”

“STOP IT!” Xie Lian snapped. “Quit pretending! You know perfectly well what happened! YOU KILLED MY PARENTS!”

Jun Wu only tilted his head, completely unbothered. “Ah,” he said mildly. “Did I?”

Xie Lian had thought for a long time that saying the words out loud would relieve him somehow. That after years of silence, confronting Jun Wu would feel like taking back power. But the man didn’t flinch. He didn’t deny it, didn’t even try to justify it. And that, somehow, was worse. He wouldn’t even give Xie Lian that.

Jun Wu took another step closer, gaze steady. “I would have provided for you. Helped you through that great loss, if you hadn’t fled back then. We could have stayed together.”

Xie Lian stared at him, something cold unfurling in his chest. For a second, he didn’t even have words – just the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

“You’re insane,” he said finally, voice low. “I’ve never wanted anything to do with you.”

Jun Wu didn’t answer. Just kept watching him, like he was the one being betrayed.

Xie Lian laughed once, bitter. “It’s always the same thing with you. Now you’re going to blame me because I ‘abandoned’ you.”

“You did.” Jun Wu’s voice stayed calm. “I was trying to help you. Your family. I gave you everything I had.”

“No, you took everything I had!” Xie Lian spat, but Jun Wu ignored him.

“I wish someone would have cared for me the same way I did for you when I was younger,” he said, his eyes unfocused as he lost himself in a memory. “You know Xianle, the first time I saw you, I was startled. There was something familiar in yourself that I couldn’t quite place. But then I recognized you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jun Wu shook his head slowly. “No one cared when I was a child. Not once. Not when I starved. Not when I bled.” Jun Wu’s gaze flickered with something too quick to name.  “Not when Mei Nianqing died.”

The name meant nothing to Xie Lian. “Who?”

Jun Wu watched him like it was a test. “He was the only person who didn’t look at me like I was a problem that needed fixing. The only person who ever loved me. We grew up together. Same shit neighborhood. Same hell.”

Xie Lian didn’t want to have this conversation. Every word out of Jun Wu’s mouth made his skin crawl. It felt like being dissected – peeled open and inspected under a light he never asked for. He didn’t care about Jun Wu’s sob story, didn’t want to hear about the boy he’d loved or the reasons he thought that made any of this okay. But he forced himself to stay still. If Jun Wu was talking, it meant he wasn’t doing anything worse. If he could just keep him talking long enough – provoke him, distract him, something – maybe he could find a way out of this room. Out of this chair. He just had to be careful. Had to buy time.

“What happened to him?” Xie Lian asked.

Jun Wu’s voice was calm now. Chillingly so. “He was fifteen. We got jumped by some rich kids looking for someone to kick around. The cops came. They didn’t ask who started it. They only saw ragged clothes. One of them pulled a gun. Said it was a mistake. An accident.” He didn’t blink. “He died in my arms.”

Xie Lian didn’t speak. He felt like something had cracked open in the room, and the air was colder for it.

Jun Wu continued, quietly. “When I met you, you were ten. Same hair. Same way of talking. You even smiled like him, sometimes.”

Xie Lian’s stomach turned. “You–”

“For a while, I let myself believe maybe it could be different,” Jun Wu said.  “Maybe I could protect you the way I couldn’t protect him.”

Xie Lian’s pulse thundered in his ears. “You wanted me because I looked like your dead boyfriend?”

“Not just looked like,” Jun Wu murmured. “You acted like him too. You had hope. You believed people could be saved. That made me hate you. And love you.”

Xie Lian recoiled. “That’s not love.”

Jun Wu didn’t respond. Just tilted his head. “But you needed someone too. You trusted me.”

“I was a kid,” Xie Lian snapped. “I didn’t know what you were.”

Jun Wu’s eyes narrowed. “You were old enough to want something back.”

Xie Lian stared at him in disbelief. “Is that what you told yourself?”

“You needed help,” Jun Wu said, voice rising. “I offered. You took it.”

“I took an internship,” Xie Lian hissed. “Through someone you knew. I didn’t owe you anything else.”

“And yet,” Jun Wu said, stepping closer, “you came to see me. You smiled at me. You stayed.”

“Because you made me feel like I had to!” Xie Lian shouted. “Because every time I tried to pull away, you twisted it into something ugly.”

“You were the one who ruined everything. You took a job helping children,” Jun Wu said, voice full of venom. “You made yourself into a savior. It was disgusting.”

Xie Lian’s voice rose, “I did it because I wanted to help! And it had absolutely nothing to do with you!”

“You thought you were better than me,” Jun Wu snarled. “Pretending to care, pretending to be good. But you were just like everyone else. You let people suffer. And when one of your precious cases jumped off a roof, you let the world think it wasn’t your fault.”

Xie Lian’s mouth went dry, realization hitting.

“You–” His voice cracked, horrified. “You did that.”

“I exposed you,” Jun Wu corrected, almost gentle now. “I showed the world what you really were.”

Xie Lian’s hands clenched in the bindings. “He was a child. You killed a child to get back at me.”

Jun Wu’s voice stayed calm. “He wasn’t going to be saved. Just like Mei Nianqing. Just like me.”

Xie Lian stared at him, stunned into silence.

“You were supposed to understand,” Jun Wu said, stepping closer. “But you never did. I gave you so many chances. I even forgave you for what you did.”

Xie Lian interrupted him, flabbergasted, “Forgave me for what?”

Jun Wu’s smile was almost wistful. “That night. When you kissed me.”

Xie Lian’s heart dropped into his stomach. “You kissed me. I pushed you away.”

“You were drunk and you wanted a hook-up,” Jun Wu said.

“I wasn’t,” Xie Lian said through his teeth. “You know I wasn’t. You made me think I did something wrong. You told me it was my fault.”

Jun Wu’s eyes flickered. “You wanted it.”

“I didn’t.” His voice shook now. “I was a kid. And you were supposed to be someone I could trust. You twisted everything.”

Jun Wu looked at him for a long moment, then said, “Maybe. But I would have kept you safe.”

“I don’t want your safety,” Xie Lian said, every word sharp. “I want the truth. I want justice. For me. For my parents. For Lang Ying.”

Jun Wu tilted his head. “Still pretending to be the saint, I see.”

“I know I’m not a saint,” Xie Lian said quietly.

Jun Wu’s expression shifted, no longer wistful, but cold. “Then why lie to Wu Ming about who I am to you? You told him nothing, didn’t you? You let him believe you were untouched, unblemished. That you were someone else.”

Xie Lian’s breath caught.

“You think he’d look at you the same way if he knew?” Jun Wu asked softly. “If he knew you kissed me back? That you came to me for help even after?”

“I didn’t–” Xie Lian’s voice cracked. “That’s not what happened.”

“But it’s what you made it look like,” Jun Wu said. “You hid it all. And now you stand there and talk about justice?”

Xie Lian’s jaw clenched, his pulse hammering in his ears. “I don’t owe you anything.” He didn’t give Jun Wu a chance to answer before throwing out, sharp and trembling, “Where is Wu Ming?”

Jun Wu blinked, almost surprised by the shift. Then he smiled, slow and cruel.

“Where is he?” Xie Lian repeated, louder this time, the bindings on his wrists biting into his skin as he strained forward.

“You want the truth?” Jun Wu asked lightly, circling the chair. “He gave you up. That’s why you are here. He thought maybe, if he handed you over, I’d spare him.”

Xie Lian froze.

Jun Wu’s voice dropped, like he was telling a secret. “Didn’t work. Poor thing.”

For a second, just one, Xie Lian couldn’t breathe.

Then, all at once, the words crashed into him like a wave of ice, and he gasped, “You’re lying!”

Jun Wu’s smile didn’t falter.

“Wu Ming would never!” Xie Lian said, voice breaking with fury. “He would never sell me out! He’s not like you! He’s not like me! He– he’s good.”

His throat tightened. “What did you do to him?!”

Jun Wu only looked at him with mild amusement, but Xie Lian couldn’t see it anymore. His vision blurred with heat and something close to grief.

He didn’t know if it was the terror or the rage or the pure, unbearable dread crawling under his skin, but he couldn’t stop shaking.

No.

No.

No.

No. No. No. No. No.

No. Jun Wu lied about everything. Everything. He knew he lied about Wu Ming betraying him. Then, then – maybe, surely, he was lying about the rest too.

Xie Lian clung to that. Desperately. Because if he let go, if he even considered that Jun Wu might be telling the truth this time–

He would never forgive himself.

He would never survive it.

He would never forgive himself if something happened to Wu Ming, to the only good thing left in his life. And it would be his fault. He knew he shouldn’t have involved him, he knew–

Jun Wu’s voice came slow and deliberate, “You keep making the same mistakes. Trusting the wrong people. Tell me, how much do you know about ‘Wu Ming’? You don’t even know his name.”

“I don’t care,” Xie Lian said after taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It came out firm, without hesitation. And that was the truth. He didn’t need to know Wu Ming’s past to know him. He was aware that Wu Ming was hiding things from him – that they most certainly had met before – but Xie Lian trusted that he had a good reason to do so. He trusted Wu Ming completely, more than anyone else. In truth, he was the only person Xie Lian trusted at all.

Jun Wu studied him for a moment, as if looking for a crack in the armor. Then he smiled – thin and dead.

He pulled a knife from his belt and finished crossing the distance between them.

Xie Lian stiffened. His wrists burned where the bindings bit into his skin.

Jun Wu grabbed Xie Lian’s chin in one hand – tight and possessive – and forced his face upward.

Xie Lian’s stomach turned. His skin crawled at the contact. Don’t show fear. Don’t give him what he wants.

He locked his eyes on Jun Wu’s – then spat at his face. It hit his cheek.

Jun Wu laughed. Actually laughed. Not with humor – more like satisfaction.

“Still got spirit,” he murmured, his grip tightening until Xie Lian’s jaw ached. “You’re pretty like this.”

“Get your hands off me!”

Jun Wu didn’t. He reached up and ran his fingers through Xie Lian’s hair instead.

“But I preferred you with short hair,” he said almost thoughtfully. And before Xie Lian could move, he yanked his head back and slashed through his hair with his knife.

Hair fell in uneven chunks to the floor.

Jun Wu looked at what he’d done and nodded, satisfied. “Mm. Yes. Much better.”

Xie Lian’s breath shook. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jun Wu didn’t answer. He was already somewhere else, his eyes distant, almost dazed.

“He had a scar,” he said, more to himself than to Xie Lian. His thumb traced the skin below Xie Lian’s jaw, cold and reverent. “Right there.”

Xie Lian didn’t have time to react. The knife slashed across his neck.

A red line bloomed on his throat. Blood gathered fast, warm against his skin as Jun Wu stared at it, entranced.

Wu Ming paced the length of the room like a caged animal, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides. The hum of the lights above grated on his nerves, but not as much as the silence.

“We have to take the place by storm,” Wu Ming said, his voice sharp with urgency.

The words had barely left his mouth before the room reacted – Shi Qingxuan startled, Pei Ming’s jaw tensed, and Black Water slowly turned to face him, unreadable.

But he didn’t care. He couldn’t care. Pei Ming had confirmed it just minutes ago: Jun Wu’s people took him to the hospital.

“I swear to god, if we wait too long–”

“You already ruined my plan,” Black Water cut in, their voice like a blade. “So forgive me if I’m not thrilled to clean up your mess.”

Wu Ming rounded on them, eyes flashing. “Your plan was to wait and observe. He’s not a test subject. He’s not bait.”

He wanted to scream. Wanted to tear the whole damn room apart. But he bit down on the impulse, breathing hard through his nose.

Shi Qingxuan hovered near the wall, clearly rattled. “We should help him,” she said quietly. “We can’t just sit here.”

“She’s right,” Wu Ming snapped, shooting a glare at Black Water. “I’m going. Now.”

“You’re not,” Black Water said flatly. They stood with arms folded, every inch composed, calculating. “You’ll get yourself killed. And him too.”

Wu Ming’s voice rose. “Then what do you suggest? We sit on our hands while Jun Wu does god knows what to him?”

Black Water didn’t flinch. “We take time to plan. Strategize. I’ll call in the others. We move smart.”

“We don’t have time!” Wu Ming shouted. “He’s in their hands. Do you know what that means?”

“Yes,” they said, sharp, “I do.”

The room bristled with tension. Pei Ming stayed silent, eyes closed like he was tuning them all out. Shi Qingxuan looked between them, visibly anxious.

“If you don’t back me up, I’ll go alone,” Wu Ming said, deadly quiet. “I don’t need any of you.”

Black Water stepped into his path. “You’ll die,” they said. “You’ll die, and then we’ll have lost two people. You want that?”

He met their gaze, wild and raw. “I need to know he’s alive.”

A beat passed. Then another.

Black Water sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose. “Fine. I’ll call for a meeting. Give me three hours. That’s the fastest I can rally everyone worth a damn.”

“Three hours is too long.”

“You’ll wait,” they said. “Or you’ll go alone and ruin the only chance we have. Your choice.”

Wu Ming didn’t respond. His fists unclenched slowly. But he didn’t sit down.

Shi Qingxuan looked over at him, her voice soft but steady. “We will get him back,” she tried to reassure him.

Around the table, the room was packed with tense bodies and heavier silence. Wu Ming stood with his arms crossed, glaring at Black Water as if it would speed the whole thing up.

Yin Yu spoke, voice grim. “They’ll be using civilians as shields. That’s standard for them. Especially if they know we’re coming.”

Black Water leaned back in their chair, fingers tapping against their knee. “I have contacts in the police, but even with that, the building is in the middle of a high-end residential district. If we start shooting, it’ll bring them down on us fast. We won’t have long once we make a move.”

Shi Qingxuan glanced around anxiously, then stood. “I’ll go get us something to eat. It’s getting late and it’s never a good idea to fight with an empty stomach, haha.” With a nervous laugh, she slipped out of the room.

Wu Ming didn’t look up.

Pei Xiu leaned forward. “What we’re walking into is a slaughter if we don’t move fast.”

Pei Ming turned his head slightly, giving Pei Xiu a quiet look – the kind of look one gives when their world has shifted sideways and they’re still figuring out which way is up. It had barely been half an hour since he found out his nephew was alive. That he’d joined the enemy triad.

Black Water ignored him. “Our priority is to find Jun Wu and Shi Wudu and kill them. Cut off the head, the body crumbles.”

Yin Yu raised a brow. “Are we sure they’re there?”

Banyue nodded. “Yeah. I tracked their comms myself, with Pei Ming’s help. They haven’t left the sector. If Dianxia is in the hospital, they’re there too.”

Wu Ming’s jaw tightened. He hated sitting here talking about plans like this, hated pretending they had time.

Then he turned to Black Water. “Does Shi Qingxuan know you plan to kill her brother?”

Black Water didn’t blink but took a few seconds too long to answer. “…It should be obvious.”

The silence that followed was thick.

Pei Ming shifted slightly but said nothing. Yin Yu glanced at the door Shi Qingxuan had exited through, lips pressed tight.

Wu Ming’s voice was low. “I hope you’re prepared for what that’ll do to her.”

“She’ll survive,” Black Water said coldly. “We may not, if we don’t focus.”

The tension held for a beat too long before Black Water moved on. “The Green Lanterns won’t be going in with us. Their job is to secure the perimeter. No one gets out but patients. Not staff, not guards, not Jun Wu.”

They looked around the table. “They’ll deploy along the outer blocks, disguised as emergency response. They'll intercept anyone who tries to flee and keep the press or civilians from getting too close. They’ve already locked down three neighboring intersections. They’ll stage a gas leak to evacuate the area quietly. Buy us a little more room.”

Yin Yu added, “Wuyong won’t fall for it long. But it might stall their reinforcements. Every minute helps.”

“Once the perimeter’s in place, we’ll breach,” Black Water explained. “Wu Ming, Pei Ming and Quan Yizhen will head for the lower floors. Me, Pei Xiu and Xuan Ji will move to intercept Shi Wudu. Xie Lian’s room is likely locked down and guarded. If he’s still alive–”

“He is,” Wu Ming snapped.

A quiet passed through the room. No one challenged him.

Black Water softened their tone slightly. “Then we’ll get him out.”

They looked at the clock on the wall. “We’ve got less than two hours. Arm up and be ready. Once the Green Lanterns confirm, we move.”

The street was quiet – too quiet for a city that never slept. Emergency barriers blinked red at the ends of the block, and smoke from a staged gas leak coiled low across the pavement. Civilians had been cleared. No press. No bystanders. The perimeter was locked.

And the clock was ticking.

Wu Ming stood in the shadow of a side alley across from the hospital’s south entrance, flanked by Pei Ming and Quan Yizhen, each dressed in black and armed. Their earpieces buzzed once – the Green Lanterns’ signal. The outer cordon was in place.

Black Water’s voice came through next, calm and deadly. “All teams, move.”

Wu Ming was already gone.

He bolted from the alley, heart hammering like a war drum, barely waiting for the others to follow. Pei Ming swore behind him, but didn’t hesitate, and Quan Yizhen was already ahead, vaulting over a side fence like a bullet in motion.

The hospital loomed above them, its glass facade glowing sterile white. Too clean. Too calm. Too much of a trap.

The front doors burst open with a scream of shattering glass as Banyue’s team detonated the first charge – a controlled blast to break the locks and scramble internal comms. Immediately, floodlights snapped on, alarms blared, and the sound of gunfire cracked the air like lightning.

Wu Ming didn’t flinch. He was already inside.

The lobby was chaos – guards scrambling, smoke filling the entrance, patients screaming. Banyue’s voice shouted orders through the comms, directing Green Lanterns to intercept escapees slipping through the emergency stairwells. Black Water’s unit split to the right, toward administration. Wu Ming’s took left.

He moved in sync with Pei Ming and Quan Yizhen, clearing the halls and taking down anyone with a gun. But even as they advanced, the resistance thickened. More guards. Heavier fire. And no traces of Xie Lian.

In the distance, Black Water’s voice snapped through comms. “They’re redirecting personnel to bottleneck the east wing. We’re boxed in.”

“I’ll break them,” Wu Ming growled, already turning. Xie Lian wasn’t on this side, he was certain, and Pei Ming would be able to handle things without him just fine.

“Wait!” Pei Ming shouted. “That’s not our–”

But Wu Ming had already taken a side route.

The hallway narrowed, lights flickering above. Screams echoed from rooms behind closed doors. Gunshots again, this time too close.

He rounded the corner, and nearly collided with Black Water, pinned against a wall, blade locked with one of Jun Wu’s elite bodyguards. Two more closed in behind him, weapons raised.

Without thinking, Wu Ming moved.

He slid low, took out one at the knees, slammed a knife into the soft space between jaw and ear. The second turned his weapon toward him. Wu Ming rolled, grabbed a fallen pistol, and fired twice. Both bodies hit the ground.

Black Water exhaled hard, blood running down one arm. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re welcome,” Wu Ming muttered before pressing, “Have you seen him? Any traces of him?”

“No,” Black Water sighed, pushing off the wall, “but take the West Wing – check the private suites.”

Wu Ming didn’t wait for confirmation. He ran.

Twisting corridors blurred past him. Fires burned in the distance; smoke crept low across the floors. He heard Pei Ming’s voice once, cursing through the comms – something about losing signal – and then nothing.

He was alone now.

The halls changed. Cleaner. Quieter. A different kind of terrifying. Too sterile, too neat – like the chaos hadn’t reached this far yet.

A blast rocked the floor beneath him. A second later, he heard footsteps. Two Wuyong guards turned the corner ahead, raising rifles. Wu Ming didn’t slow. He threw a knife into the first man’s shoulder, crashed into the second and snapped his neck before the body hit the ground. He grabbed one of their badges, scanned it against the security pad on the far door.

Access granted.

He slipped through just before more footsteps thundered down the hall.

Now he was in a different wing. Quieter still. The walls were lined with white paneling, doors fading into the walls, almost invisible.

He passed one door. Then another. Kicking them open. Then stopped. One door didn’t give out. He tried kicking it again – nothing. He raised his weapon and shot clean into the lock. Then finally with a nudge of his foot, the door opened.

The room inside was plunged into darkness, all the lights out. Then, as his eyes adjusted–

–he saw him.

Slumped in a chair, a shallow line of blood running down his throat, pale and still.

The room was otherwise empty. Silent. Too quiet.

Wu Ming’s heart nearly stopped. His feet moved before his brain could catch up.

“Dianxia!”

Xie Lian stirred, sluggish, eyes fluttering open. “Wu Ming?”

“I’ve got you,” Wu Ming said quickly, hurrying across the room. His hands flew to the restraints, knife already out and sawing at the thick zip ties that held Xie Lian’s wrists down. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“Wu Ming–!”

The air shifted.

A shadow lunged from the adjoining room, and Jun Wu stepped into view.

His expression twisted the moment he saw Wu Ming – not calm and composed as he usually was, but furious.

“You,” Jun Wu snarled. “You never know when to give up, do you?”

Wu Ming was already on his feet, blocking Xie Lian from view. He reached for his gun–

Jun Wu moved faster. A sudden strike, brutal and practiced, knocked the weapon from Wu Ming’s grip. It hit the floor with a sharp clatter and was kicked aside.

Jun Wu didn’t stop. In one fluid motion, he pulled his own gun and leveled it at Wu Ming.

Wu Ming dove for him.

The first gunshot cracked through the room.

“Wu Ming!” Xie Lian shouted, the chair beneath him rattling with the force of his sudden movement.

Pain tore through Wu Ming’s side – but he didn’t stop moving. His hand slammed into Jun Wu’s wrist, forcing the weapon upward. Another shot went wild into the ceiling. Then another. And another. The bullets hit the ceiling before falling all over the room.

Wu Ming knew what Jun Wu was doing – threatening him with the possibility that a stray bullet would hit Xie Lian. But Wu Ming would never let him.

Jun Wu twisted the gun to the side, and another shot tore through the air, whizzing dangerously close to Xie Lian, who ducked instinctively.

“Stop. Shooting.” Wu Ming growled, struggling to wrench the weapon away, gritting his teeth against the pain.

Jun Wu readied himself to fire again, this time precisely in Xie Lian’s direction.

Wu Ming didn’t hesitate.

He surged forward, trying to move the gun and put himself in front of it at the same time. Pain exploded in his leg, at the exact same place he’d been hit only a few days before, as the round tore through him – but it didn’t matter. It didn’t touch Xie Lian.

He gritted his teeth, lunged again, and slammed into Jun Wu with everything he had. The gun fired wildly – once, twice, again – grazing past him and ricocheting into the walls and the ceiling.

He didn’t succeed in taking the gun, but his efforts weren’t wasted. The chamber clicked – empty.

Jun Wu let the spent weapon fall.

They both drew their knives.

Steel flashed.

Jun Wu struck first, and Wu Ming barely parried. Blood bloomed across his shirt – the wound from earlier deepening – but he stayed upright, forcing Jun Wu back.

His next strike was merciless, aimed to finish him.

Wu Ming stumbled, dropping to a knee, blade slipping from blood-slick fingers.

Then–

A click echoed across the room.

Jun Wu froze.

Xie Lian stood behind him, wrists raw but free, Wu Ming’s gun in his hands.

“Step away from him,” Xie Lian said, voice low and steady.

Jun Wu turned slowly, calculating.

Xie Lian’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Don’t test me.”

Jun Wu’s eyes narrowed. But he stepped back.

Xie Lian rushed to Wu Ming’s side, helping him up. Wu Ming hissed but said nothing, concealing the pain in his side.

“Are you okay?” Xie Lian asked, his voice deep with worry.

“I’m fine,” Wu Ming lied.

Xie Lian didn’t believe him – it was hard to when he was covered in blood – but he didn’t argue.

Before Wu Ming could ask in return how Xie Lian was, Xie Lian had already turned to Jun Wu. His voice, hoarse but clear, rang through the smoke-laced room.

“On your knees.”

Jun Wu didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. He stood tall, bloodied and winded, but eerily calm. He tilted his head slightly, like a disappointed father addressing his stubborn child.

“Xianle,” he said, voice low and graveled. “You disappoint me.”

Wu Ming, still gripping his side, tensed, ready to move if Jun Wu tried anything.

Outside, police sirens suddenly blasted, echoing down the street. The first responders had arrived. The sound changed something in the room. The ticking of a clock they had all forgotten was running.

Jun Wu took a step forward.

“But I’ll give you one last chance. If you shoot him,” he nodded to Wu Ming, “I can forgive you. Everything. Everything you’ve done. We can start over.”

Xie Lian’s eyes flashed. “I’ll shoot you now.”

Jun Wu laughed. It wasn’t mocking – it was almost gentle, like he pitied them both. “Ah, Xianle. Still too narrow-sighted. Always aiming at the obvious enemy.”

Jun Wu reached slowly into his coat pocket. Wu Ming’s grip on his knife tightened. But instead of a weapon, Jun Wu pulled out a small black remote and clicked it once.

A subtle green light blinked to life.

Xie Lian took a step forward. “What the fuck did you do?!”

Jun Wu raised his hands slowly. Not in surrender, but like he was offering something to the air. “You think it ends with me? That killing me is justice?” His smile widened, sharp and unkind. “It can’t be that easy.”

Wu Ming narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Jun Wu’s gaze slid to him, then back to Xie Lian. “You should know me better than that.”

He tapped his chest lightly. “If I die, the whole place goes with me. Explosives. Wired to my vitals. One dead heart – one command trigger – and this building turns to ash. Staff, patients, all of it.”

The words dropped into the room like a hammer. Xie Lian stiffened, fingers twitching where he held the gun.

Wu Ming felt it like a punch to the ribs. For a second, all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears. He looked at Xie Lian and saw him freeze, saw that split-second fracture in his resolve. The weight of the decision pressed down on all of them, but it was different for Xie Lian. It was always different for him. He’d carry every death. Even the ones he didn’t cause.

No, Wu Ming thought, heart lurching. He can’t go through that again. Not this.

Jun Wu’s voice dipped lower, almost tender. “You wanted to be a hero, didn’t you? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger. Watch them burn for it.” He tilted his head. “You have five minutes to decide. After that, they will die either way.”

Five minutes.

Wu Ming immediately limped toward the door, pain flaring in his leg. “We need to tell Black Water right now. He must have some people who know how to defuse a bomb.”

“No,” Xie Lian said, voice like iron. “This ends here.”

Wu Ming turned sharply. “What?”

Xie Lian didn’t even flinch. “Leave. And tell everyone to evacuate.”

Wu Ming stepped forward, voice rising. “Most of the patients here are bedridden. It’s impossible to evacuate them all in time.”

Xie Lian’s grip on the gun didn’t loosen. “We don’t even know where the bomb is. We won’t have time anyway.”

Jun Wu, calm as ever, said, “It’s in the east wing, beneath the generator room. Third basement level. The blast will destroy the entire hospital except the West Wing – right where we are.” He smiled at Xie Lian. “If you go now and run as fast you can, you’ll probably make it. But you’ll have to leave me here.”

“I’m not letting you go that easily,” Xie Lian growled.

“I’ll go,” Wu Ming said, pushing past the pain.

He tried to run – and his leg buckled beneath him immediately. He crashed to the ground with a choked gasp. Blood soaked through the fabric of his pants.

Jun Wu looked down at him with a thin smirk. “All communications are cut. Signal blockers in the west wing. No calls. No comms. No one else is coming. You can’t escape it, Xianle.”

Xie Lian raised the gun again, aiming directly at Jun Wu’s head.

“That won’t prevent me from shooting you,” he said coldly.

Wu Ming pushed himself to his feet with a groan. “What are you doing? You can’t kill him!”

Jun Wu smiled. “You want to know how to disarm the bomb? It’s actually quite easy. You just have to pull the detonator from the explosive.” He leaned forward. “But I know you, Xianle. You want to kill me more than anything. I killed them. Your parents drowned screaming your name. Water filling their lungs, clawing at the dark – waiting for you to save them. But you never came.” He smiled. “So do it. End me. Let your rage finally mean something.”

Something twisted in Xie Lian’s face. His hands trembled around the grip of the gun. Rage flared, sudden and hot, but beneath it – guilt, sharp and splintered.

Profound fear struck Wu Ming.

“Dianxia, don’t,” Wu Ming said, voice low, pleading.

Xie Lian turned on him, eyes sharp. “Why are you defending him?”

“I’m defending you,” Wu Ming corrected. “If you kill him, everyone else dies. You’ll never forgive yourself.”

Xie Lian’s jaw clenched. “You think I care?”

“Yes,” Wu Ming said simply. “Because you’re not like him.”

Xie Lian’s lip curled. “And you’re just like everyone else. Pretending to be on my side, but turning on me when it matters.”

Wu Ming flinched like he’d been slapped. The words hit harder than the gunshot ever had.  For a second, he couldn’t speak. His mouth opened, then closed again. What could he say? That he hadn’t turned on him? That he would never? That he would take a dozen more bullets for him and still feel like it wasn’t enough? But none of that mattered if Xie Lian pulled the trigger.

“I’d never turned on you.”

“Then let me shoot him!”

“I won’t,” Wu Ming said, but the words barely came out. His throat was dry, his heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. “Because I know you. And I know if everyone in this building dies, it’ll kill something in you too. Something you won’t get back.”

He was panicking. He could feel it in the way his breath came short, the way his hands curled tighter around his wound without him realizing. He wasn’t afraid of Jun Wu. He wasn’t afraid of dying.

He was afraid of Xie Lian doing something he couldn’t take back.

He was afraid of what would be left of him if he did.

Outside, the sirens grew louder. Doors slammed. Voices shouted commands. The police were getting closer, any minute now they’d break in.

Xie Lian’s eyes darted toward the door, panicked and burning. “If I don’t do it now, I won’t have another chance.”

Silence fell between them, sharp and strained. Xie Lian’s arms trembled.

Wu Ming’s mind raced. Say something. Say anything. Make him stop.

But nothing came. He could only look at him, at the tremble in his arms, the fury and grief warring on his face, the gun still raised, and pray Xie Lian wouldn’t destroy himself trying to destroy the man who ruined him.

Jun Wu just watched, smiling faintly, waiting.

Wu Ming stood where he was, blood pooling around his foot, chest rising fast with each breath. He looked at Xie Lian like he was begging him to remember something, anything, about who he was before the blood, before the betrayal.

And Xie Lian stood frozen.

His hand trembled around the grip of the gun. His eyes were locked on Jun Wu, filled with a hatred so deep it looked like it could burn the world down. But beneath it, just barely, was something else. Guilt. Grief. Doubt.

He swallowed hard. His finger twitched on the trigger. And still, Jun Wu smiled.

“You want to,” Jun Wu said softly. “You want to so badly, don’t you? You think it’ll fix it. You think it’ll bring them back.”

Xie Lian’s arm jerked, almost raised higher – then stopped.

His lips parted like he wanted to scream, but no sound came out. His whole body shook, fighting some invisible war behind his ribs. He took a step forward, then back again. Anger warred with restraint, fury with memory.

Wu Ming opened his mouth. He didn’t want to tell him, but he couldn’t let him kill Jun Wu. Not now. Fuck. He would deal with the consequences later. “Dianxia, there’s a–”

But before he could finish his sentence, Xie Lian lowered the gun.

His shoulders dropped like the fight had drained out of him all at once. His face crumpled –not with weakness, but exhaustion. Pain.

Xie Lian stood there, the weight of the gun still heavy in his hands, the air thick with the choking tension of the decision he had to make. His finger was still on the trigger, every part of him screaming to just end it. To pull the damn trigger and stop Jun Wu once and for all.

But something in him shifted. A strange, painful clarity tore through the anger and grief. No.

He couldn’t do this. Not like this. He couldn’t let this man – this twisted, cruel thing – destroy everything in his path. He couldn’t let it end with more bloodshed, more lives lost because of his own rage.

Xie Lian’s hand shook violently, the gun slipping in his grip. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The fight between them, between who he was and what he had to do, roared inside him like a storm. But then, something else rose up. The people.

His eyes darted to Wu Ming, the fresh blood on his clothes, the struggle between life and death on his face. He looked broken – but still, he was here. Xie Lian’s chest tightened.

He couldn’t let everyone else die because of him. Not for his anger. Not for revenge.

With one last look at Wu Ming, who gave him a silent, pleading nod, Xie Lian set the gun down. Slowly, he turned back to Jun Wu. There was no more hesitation.

With swift, precise movements, Xie Lian lunged forward, knocking Jun Wu off his feet in a brutal blow. Jun Wu didn’t even have time to react as the grip of the gun hit his temple and he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Xie Lian stood over him for a moment, breathing hard, his chest heaving, as if the entire weight of the world had just crashed down on him. His heart beat in his throat.

“You stay here.” His voice was strained, his words for Wu Ming, though his eyes never left Jun Wu’s limp form. “Stay safe. I’ll come back for you. Just– just stay here.”

Wu Ming tried to push himself up, but Xie Lian didn’t give him the chance. “Stay down,” he commanded, his voice soft but firm. There was no room for debate.

Xie Lian took one last, lingering glance at him, then ran. His feet pounded against the floor, the echo of his steps following him as he raced toward the bomb.

His heart thundered in his chest, a deafening rhythm that pounded in his ears louder than the echo of his footsteps. He knew where the bomb was. Jun Wu had told them. He could picture the hallway, the turn, the storage room two floors down tucked behind the radiology wing –but now, with every breath burning in his lungs and every step jarring through his bones, it felt impossibly far away.

The building was fracturing into chaos.

A nurse sprinted past him in the opposite direction, eyes wide, face smeared with blood – not her own. Down the hall, a wounded man was shouting, cradling another who wasn’t moving. The alarms hadn’t stopped since the lockdown initiated, a sharp wail that split the air like a blade.

Xie Lian swerved to avoid a stretcher that had been overturned in the middle of the corridor. Someone had slipped on the spilled IV fluid beside it and wasn’t getting back up.

He nearly ran into a brawl at the end of the hallway – two figures locked in a brutal fight, one in Nether Water colors, the other in Wuyong’s. There was no time to separate them, no time to care. He shoved past, catching an elbow to the ribs for it, but didn’t stop.

Keep moving.

The elevator was down, locked in place, dead in its shaft. Jun Wu must have triggered it. So he threw himself into the stairwell instead. A doctor was dragging two patients down the steps, one conscious, one limp. Xie Lian vaulted over the railing to the floor below.

Faster.

Every corner he turned brought more chaos. A child sobbing in a nurse’s arms. Someone yelling for help down a side corridor. The bark of a gunshot far too close.

He didn’t stop.

The hospital had become a battleground, half the staff trying to evacuate patients, the other half caught between Wuyong and Nether Water’s men still exchanging blows in the smoke and shadow of the hallways. The clash of fists, the crash of glass, the scream of a wounded man echoed behind him.

His foot slipped in a puddle of blood. He didn’t register the pain when he fell, only scrambled back up and kept running.

The world blurred. His lungs burned. The lights overhead flickered like they were counting down with him.

He shoved through the door to the final wing, where the storage room was. Almost there. Almost.

He had to shoulder past a guard stationed outside, one of Jun Wu’s, who was too slow to stop him. Another figure lunged at him from behind a curtain of smoke, and Xie Lian ducked, rolled, and kept going.

00:06

There. The room. The pulse of red through the doorway.

He nearly slammed into the wall making the last turn, hands burning where they caught the corner for leverage.

00:05

A woman in scrubs screamed behind him. Someone must’ve seen the device.

00:04

He crashed to his knees beside it. The bomb looked too calm. Too quiet.

00:03

His hands hovered, shaking. The wires all led to one place. Every part of it said: too late.

00:02

He swallowed hard, chest heaving, breath coming in broken gasps.

00:01

He closed his eyes.

His heart dropped into his stomach.

It was too late.

He couldn’t do it. He had failed. He had done nothing but run, and now everything was about to burn because of him.

00:00

Silence.

No explosion. No fire. No heat or force tearing his body apart.

Just… silence.

Then the distant sound of shouting. A sob. Somewhere, someone was laughing in disbelief.

Xie Lian opened his eyes slowly. The timer was dead. The bomb… was inert.

He was still alive.

They were still alive.

People behind him were starting to react – nurses falling to their knees, patients crying out. A man yelled, “It didn’t go off! It didn’t go off!”

Xie Lian didn’t move.

His hands were still frozen above the device, too afraid to touch it, too afraid to believe it.

And beneath the shock, a single thought bloomed cold and sudden.

Wu Ming.

Xie Lian’s heart was still racing, and now it turned in a different direction.

He pushed himself to his feet and ran.

His legs were already shaking, the air thick with the scent of blood and smoke. He retraced his steps through the ruined halls of the hospital, dodging fallen bodies and wreckage, but the chaos was only growing.

The police had made it inside.

Their shouts echoed from the stairwells and corridors, calling out commands, forcing people to the ground. The air was filled with confusion, weapons raised, orders barked, alarms still shrieking in the background.

“Stop! Hands where I can see them!”

Xie Lian ducked behind a fallen cabinet and kept running. He couldn’t stop now, not when Wu Ming was still back there, possibly hurt, alone, and–

A familiar figure stepped out of the smoke ahead.

“Black Water!” Xie Lian skidded to a halt, breath heaving.

He looked grim, a cut across his brow and a dark streak down one arm. Behind him, more Nether Water agents moved, trying to leave before the police caught up with them.

Black Water looked Xie Lian over, his eyes fixing on his throat. “You’re alive.”

He looked up and his brows furrowed in confusion. “What happened to your hair? And where's Wu Ming?”

Xie Lian’s stomach twisted at the question. He took a shaky breath, his voice strained as he answered, ignoring the first question. “Jun Wu... he had a bomb rigged to him. I knocked him out then left to defuse it. Wu Ming stayed behind, where the explosion wouldn’t reach.”

Black Water’s expression hardened. “So did you defuse it? And where’s Jun Wu now?”

“Jun Wu is still with Wu Ming, and… no. It didn’t go off. I’m… not sure why.”

His heart pounded as the memories of the bomb and the frantic rush to stop it still clung to him. He couldn’t quite believe it hadn’t exploded. But then, his mind turned back to Wu Ming. “I have to go back for him,” Xie Lian said, his voice unsteady. “I left him behind. I need to go get him.”

“You’re not going back that way,” Black Water said. “The police’s already controlling that wing.”

“I have to,” Xie Lian snapped. “Wu Ming–”

Black Water interrupted, gaze sharp. “He’s the reason the bomb didn’t go off. He knew what he was doing.”

Xie Lian’s breath caught. “What?”

“Shi Qingxuan talked to us about those types of bombs before coming here. Wuyong tech –Jun Wu's. Wu Ming knew how they worked. He knew the failsafe was in Jun Wu’s chest.”

Xie Lian’s mind reeled, piecing it together. “The biometric panel…”

Black Water nodded once. “The panel’s rigged. It’s how Jun Wu kept control. The only way to shut the bomb down manually was to activate the failsafe on his body. But it’s not just a switch. It detects if it’s not him using it. Anyone else gets hit with an electric discharge, non-lethal, but enough to knock you out. Paralyze you. And hurt.”

Xie Lian’s stomach twisted. “So Wu Ming knew. This whole time, he knew there was a way to stop it, but he also knew it would take him out.”

“He couldn’t let you stop him I assume,” Black Water said. “He must have thought that you would’ve tried. You would’ve taken his place.”

Xie Lian clenched his fists. “He knew. He knew and he– dammit– he let me go–”

He turned to run again, but Black Water stepped in front of him. “Don’t.”

“I have to–”

“You can’t.” Black Water’s tone sharpened. “The police are flooding the building. If you’re caught, it’s over.”

“I’m not leaving him!” Xie Lian shouted, shoving at him. “He’s hurt! He can’t move on his own!”

“He’s in the West Wing,” Black Water said. “It’s the safest part of the building. If we’re lucky, the police will find him and treat him as a victim, not one of us. But if you go back now, you’ll drag him down with you.”

“I don’t care!” Xie Lian surged forward, only to be caught by someone else – Quan Yizhen, one arm slinging around his chest like iron.

“Let go of me!” Xie Lian snarled, thrashing against him.

Pei Xiu moved in too, catching his flailing arm. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Don’t make us knock you out,” Pei Ming added, voice almost apologetic but firm.

“I won’t leave him!” Xie Lian screamed, raw and ragged, but the others were already dragging him back, step by step, toward the emergency exit.

He fought like an animal, kicking, twisting, desperate.

“He’s alone!” he cried. “He stayed for me! I can’t leave him like that! I won’t–!”

But it was no use.

The world blurred around him as they forced him out of the building, the night cold and too bright with flashing red and blue. Behind him, the hospital loomed like a dying god, wounded and smoking, swallowed up by sirens and lights.

And somewhere inside it–

Wu Ming lay unconscious on the floor.

Alone.

Chapter Text

The door creaked open.

A woman in a dark uniform stepped inside, a tablet in one hand, a badge glinting at her belt. Her expression was unreadable, but the tension in her jaw betrayed her impatience.

Her eyes flicked immediately to him, not with concern, but calculation. She didn’t approach the bed yet. Instead, she paused to drag a plastic chair across the floor, the legs screeching loud enough to make Wu Ming wince.

“You’re under arrest,” she said, voice clipped. “Suspected of murder, and association with an organized criminal group.”

She set the tablet down on a small rolling table, next to a tray cluttered with unopened gauze packets and a half-drained saline bag, still swinging slightly from where someone had adjusted it hastily.

“I need you to state your full name, date of birth, place of birth, and current address.”

Wu Ming ignored the sting of the IV in his arm. His throat was dry, but not enough to stop him. “What happened to the hospital?”

The policewoman narrowed her eyes slightly, then gave a repeated answer. “Secured by law enforcement. Arrests are ongoing for human trafficking, multiple homicides, obstruction of emergency services, aggravated assault of medical personnel, and other organized crime-related charges. It’s under full investigation.”

Her gaze darted to the monitor beside his bed, noting his rising heart rate, before returning to him.

Wu Ming wanted – needed – to ask about Xie Lian. But he couldn't. Wouldn’t.

“And Jun Wu?” he asked instead.

She didn’t even blink. “His body has been transferred to the morgue for autopsy.”

Something inside Wu Ming loosened. Some tension he hadn't realized he'd been clenching in his gut.

Dead, dead, dead. He knew it already of course, having dealt the final blow, but it felt good – like someone had taken a weight off his shoulders, like he could finally breathe again – to hear someone confirm it. Though he wasn’t so thrilled about the autopsy part. That would fuck him over. Not that he wasn’t in deep shit already.

The policewoman glanced at her tablet again. “Wuyong is being dismantled. We'll be bringing down the entire network soon.”

At first, a grim satisfaction flared in Wu Ming’s chest. Good. Let it all burn.
But almost immediately, it twisted into worry. A spike of panic shot through him. If the police stormed the hospital, if they rounded up everyone inside, then Xie Lian–

He forced his face blank, biting back the flood of fear.

The policewoman took a step closer, the corner of her mouth tightening, and repeated her demand. “Name. Date of birth. Place of birth. Address. Now.”

Wu Ming let out a slow breath, the movement tugging painfully at the stitches in his side. Her voice was grating on his ears, too sharp, too loud. He just wanted her to shut up. Wanted her gone. Wanted silence to stretch around him again

“Wu Ming,” he said through his teeth. “Tenth of June. I don't know. I don't have one.”

She stared at him, expression hardening. “No name, no place of birth, no home?” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “How convenient.”

Wu Ming managed a small shrug. “My father never registered me. Didn’t care enough to.”

The policewoman gave a short, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “We'll find out your real name,” she said, “sooner or later.”

Without waiting for a response, she picked up the tablet again and left, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving only the slow drip of the IV and the relentless beep of the monitors to fill the silence.

Wu Ming lay back against the pillows, staring at the cracked ceiling.

Were they holding Xie Lian right now, in some other room, asking the same questions? Had they found his DNA in that room, or some strands of hair left on the floor? Had they traced anything back to him?

He didn’t know. That was the worst part.

He had done the only thing he could. Gathered as much of Xie Lian’s hair as he had been able to and burned it before defusing the bomb. Hoping it would erase traces of Xie Lian presence, leaving only ashes. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had time for.

The memory of that hair, soft and long before, made his jaw clench. It had already been on the floor when he arrived, slashed through, messily, violently. Wu Ming didn’t even have the chance to ask what had happened, to check if Xie Lian was really okay.

He should have burned Jun Wu along with the hair.

Please, he thought. Let Xie Lian be far from here.

They kept him in the hospital.

At first, it was quiet. The kind of quiet that made it easy to pretend he was just another patient recovering from a bad night, not a man in custody. But the moment he could sit up without blacking out, they cuffed his wrist to the bedrail. Cold metal biting into bruised skin, as if he needed the reminder.

He was on remand, they told him. Awaiting trial.

What trial? he thought. What defense could he give?

They’d found him in a puddle of blood next to a corpse, tactical gear soaked through, his DNA all over the knife that killed Jun Wu. And he didn’t even have a lawyer, not a real one. No access to any money. No contact with the outside world.

He was back to being no one. Broke, nameless, alone.

Eventually, that became a problem in itself.

A man with no birth certificate, no identification, no traceable record, not even a fake one. At first, they thought he was lying. Then they checked. And checked again. And someone higher up must’ve decided that if the system didn’t know what to do with him, it would force him into a shape it could process.

The judge – or maybe it was the prosecutor, or some grim-faced officer with too much paperwork and too little time – told him to pick a name.

He said “Wu Ming.”

They rejected it.

“No name doesn’t cut it,” they snapped. “Come up with something before we do it for you!”

He could’ve refused, but in the end, he didn’t.

He thought about the last time he saw Xie Lian before all of this, years ago, – when they were happy and everything was easy – and the white flower he never got to give him. The white flower he had left behind on the floor of that flat.

He said, “Hua Cheng.”

The words sounded strange in his mouth. It was like trying on someone else’s coat, unfamiliar but warm. Yet despite that, he knew that it felt right.

And so, they stopped calling him Wu Ming. Officially, he was Hua Cheng now.

Nurses came and went. Officers watched him in shifts. The television in the ward played too loud. Sometimes he caught snippets of news, courtroom speculation, talking heads debating organized crime infiltration in public institutions.

But no one mentioned Xie Lian.

He didn’t ask.

He couldn’t.

Every day that passed without hearing his name was a kind of mercy. Maybe they didn’t catch him. Maybe he slipped out, light as air, unseen. Maybe he was far away now, safe. Free.

Wu Ming – no, Hua Cheng – held onto that thought like a rope in a flood.

In the end, after months spent in isolation – a locked room, a locked body – they released him.

No trial. No sentencing. No explanations.

Just a stack of discharge papers handed to him like he was any other patient finally well enough to walk out on his own.

Hua Cheng didn’t understand.

He asked. No one answered. One officer shrugged, muttered something about “lack of admissible evidence” and “procedural issues,” and told him to go before someone changed their mind.

And so, just like that, he was outside.

The sky looked wrong. The air tasted strange. People passed him without stopping, without staring, without caring about who he was or what he’d done.

He stood on the sidewalk for a long time, staring at the empty stretch of road ahead.

He had no money. No ID. No contacts. No place to sleep. But none of it mattered. He lived through it already.

No. What worried him, plagued his mind, was that still – still – he didn’t know what had happened to Xie Lian.

Was he safe? Was he still in the city? Had he ever looked for him?

He could try to find him. Track him down, ask just once if he was alright. Or he could walk away. Disappear. Leave Xie Lian with whatever peace he had managed to salvage from the wreckage.

Hua Cheng stood there, the papers crumpling in his hands, and didn’t move.

He didn't know what to do. Where to go. He wanted to find Xie Lian. Of course he did. But he, out of all people, also knew how good he was at covering his tracks. If Xie Lian truly didn't want to be found, then Hua Cheng could never find him. But god be damn, he wanted to try anyway, even if he spent the rest of his life looking for him. But would Xie Lian even want him back? If he didn't want anything to do with his old life anymore, would he want to see him? What use could he even find in him if not his blade?

He gripped the papers tighter, heart pounding like something desperate in his chest.

Then–

A quiet voice, just behind him. “Hua Cheng.”

He turned.

Xie Lian stood a few feet away, hands folded in front of him, head slightly bowed. The wind tugged at the hem of his coat. He looked thinner, paler than before, but real.

He opened his mouth, closed it. Took a breath. His lips moved like he was rehearsing something he’d practiced and torn apart a dozen times on the way here.

“I’m sorry,” Xie Lian finally said, and bowed. “For making you wait. And for calling you Wu Ming, when it wasn’t yours to carry.”

Hua Cheng’s breath caught. He couldn’t speak. No, this wasn’t right. Xie Lian should never have to apologize. Especially not to him.

“I pulled some strings,” Xie Lian went on softly. “Black Water helped. So did Pei Ming – he’s running his own crew now, trying to play hero.” A faint smile flickered across his face, quickly gone. “They helped push the release. It took time. I'm sorry for that too.”

He stepped closer, reaching into his coat. His hand hovered there for a second too long, like he wasn’t sure if it would be welcome.

“I also found you a flat. It’s nothing extravagant, but it’s yours. And…” He handed over a small envelope, heavier than it looked. “A legal bank account. I used what I could salvage. From Wuyong. It's all in there now. Clean.” Xie Lian tried smiling, but his expression was strained. “Everything’s under Hua Cheng. I… heard it was the name you chose for yourself. It’s beautiful.”

Hua Cheng stared at the envelope.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Xie Lian said. “I just wanted you to have a chance. A real one.”

He didn’t quite meet Hua Cheng’s eyes. He turned slightly, shoulders drawing in, like he’d said what he came to say and couldn’t bear to wait for the response. The goodbye was already in his posture – easier to disappear than to risk being unwanted.

But Hua Cheng reached out and caught his sleeve.

“Wait,” he said. His voice came out hoarse. Raw. “I know you wanted better from me, but–”

Xie Lian looked back, startled.

“I don’t want better from you,” he said in a small voice. “I want better for you.”

Silence bloomed between them. The kind that said too much and not enough.

Hua Cheng didn’t let go of his sleeve.

Xie Lian didn’t pull his sleeve away either. His eyes flicked to Hua Cheng’s hand, then to his face, and something in him faltered.

“I should go,” he said quietly. “You’ve been through enough. You don’t need me making it worse.”

The words landed like a blow. Hua Cheng’s grip tightened.

“I didn’t want to burden you,” Xie Lian added, avoiding his gaze.

“That’s not your choice to make.”

Xie Lian flinched at the sharpness in his voice. His shoulders curled inward slightly, as if trying to make himself smaller.

“I didn’t know if you wanted to see me,” he admitted, the words thin and hesitant. “After everything I did. How I treated you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Hua Cheng said.

“You know that’s not true.”

Silence again. This one jagged, brittle.

“I’ve already done enough damage.” Xie Lian's voice barely rose above a whisper. “You got hurt because of me. Over and over again.”

Hua Cheng let out a bitter breath. “You think I care about damage? I would’ve taken ten more bullets if it meant you were safe. But I couldn’t even–”

Xie Lian’s hands clenched at his sides. He was shaking his head before Hua Cheng even finished speaking. “Don’t say that. Don’t–”

Xie Lian looked at him then. Really looked. His eyes were red around the edges, but his expression was unreadable – shame, grief, tenderness all buried under a mask of restraint.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he said, voice breaking. “I don’t know how to face you. All I did was drag you into something you should’ve walked away from. And now–”

“I never wanted to walk away from you,” Hua Cheng said. “I wanted to walk with you.”

The air between them went still.

Xie Lian’s breath caught. His throat bobbed in a swallow. But he still didn’t step forward.

And Hua Cheng didn’t know if he could close the distance.

Xie Lian’s voice was soft. “Why?”

The question hung in the air like smoke. Hua Cheng froze.

He panicked. What could he possibly say? Because I love you? Because you’re the only reason I’m still alive? Because without you I don’t know who I am?

His thoughts churned, violent and directionless. If he said the wrong thing now, would Xie Lian leave for good?

His mouth opened – nothing came out.

The silence thickened.

Then, Xie Lian shook his head, gaze dropping.

“Ah, never mind,” he murmured. “If anything, I’m the one who owes you explanations. Hong-er.”

The name cut through the air, sharp as glass. Hua Cheng flinched as if struck.

His heart lurched sideways in his chest, breath catching sharp in his throat.

How much did Xie Lian know? How long had he known?

Did he feel betrayed? Lied to? Was that why he looked so pained. Because he’d finally connected the dots and realized the pathetic kid who used to trail behind him was still here, clinging on like a fool?

His fingers twitched at his sides. He hated this. Hated the thought of being seen like that. He wasn’t that pitiful kid anymore. He had sworn to himself that he would never be a burden to Xie Lian again.

“Though maybe you don’t care about them,” Xie Lian said quietly. His voice wasn’t accusatory. Not quite. It was softer than that. But it still landed like a hook in Hua Cheng’s chest.

“I do,” Hua Cheng said quickly, too quickly. Then, more softly, “How did you know?”

Xie Lian hesitated. Then he raised his hand and gestured vaguely toward Hua Cheng’s face. “The bandages,” he said.

Hua Cheng’s hand lifted instinctively, brushing the worn gauze wrapped around the right side of his face. He’d started wearing it again in the hospital, where contacts hadn’t been an option.

“You wore them like that before. And when we were in Qi Rong’s HQ, you told me it wasn’t because of an injury. Just as you did years ago.” He paused. His gaze flickered, uncertain. “At the time I didn’t… I didn’t think much of it. I was distracted. I was always–” He stopped himself. “But later, I remembered. You grew up but...”

Hua Cheng didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He felt like he was ten again, bruises all over his body, too proud to cry and too desperate to look strong.

“I failed you. I abandoned you,” Xie Lian said. Not like a confession, more like a fact. “And when you came back, I didn’t realize who you were.”

“That’s not your fault,” Hua Cheng said quickly. “It was me who hide it from you. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to deceive you. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Xie Lian looked at him, eyes tired and unreadable.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said after a beat. “I never gave you the chance to tell me.” His voice was gentler now, but it still carried something heavy. Shame, maybe. Regret.

“But I still owe you an apology,” he continued, gaze lowering. “For leaving back then, without a word. But–” He glanced around, at the now empty street and its flickering lights, the sound of traffic a distant hum. “This isn’t the best place for that conversation.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Hua Cheng’s hands were clenched tight at his sides. The apology hovered between them like fog. He wanted to get it over with. And at the same time, he didn’t. What if that apology was a farewell? What if after this, Xie Lian disappeared again?

“Where will you go?” Hua Cheng asked suddenly, his voice thin.

Xie Lian blinked at him, then shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t really have a place. I’ll find something.”

A familiar pang of guilt flared hot in Hua Cheng’s chest. He looked down at the crumpled discharge papers in his hand. “I can’t accept a flat from you when you don’t even have one yourself.”

“You can,” Xie Lian said, a bit more firmly. “Because I owe it to you.”

“You don’t,” Hua Cheng retorted firmly. Then, before he could overthink it: “We could share it.”

Xie Lian tensed. Just for a second, but Hua Cheng saw it.

“I mean – only if you want to,” he added quickly, flinching at his own stupidity. “Sorry, that was… presumptuous. I just thought, if you don’t have a place, and we need to talk, and– of course, I understand if you don’t want to–”

“Hua Cheng.”

Xie Lian’s voice cut through his spiraling panic.

Hua Cheng looked up.

“I’ll stay,” Xie Lian said, quiet but steady. “For now. But…” He fixed him with a serious look, “you have to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“If at any point, you want me to leave, you tell me. No hiding it. No pretending. No letting it build until you resent me.”

Hua Cheng shook his head immediately. “That’ll never happen.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise,” he said. “But it won’t. I swear.”

Xie Lian held his gaze for a long moment. Then finally, slowly, he nodded.

Chapter Text

The metro car rocked gently as it sped down the tunnel, fluorescent lights passing in a blur. Hua Cheng stood with one hand braced on the rail, the other buried deep in his coat pocket, where the edge of the envelope still pressed against his palm like a reminder. He should probably have sat down – he was fresh out of the hospital, and his legs still ached in a way that told him they hadn’t fully forgiven him yet – but it had been so long since he’d been able to stand for more than a handful of minutes that he couldn’t bear to give it up now.

Xie Lian didn’t comment. He must have understood, because he simply stood next to him, shifting his weight slightly, fingers loosely curled around the pole beside him. His reflection ghosted in the window behind him, pale, distant, unreadable.

They hadn’t spoken much since leaving the hospital.

“How are you feeling?” Xie Lian asked finally, quiet enough that only Hua Cheng could hear it.

Hua Cheng glanced up. The question was gentle, but his gaze wasn’t – sharp and searching, trying to read more than words could give.

“I’m fine,” Hua Cheng said automatically. Then, after a pause, “I mean… it doesn’t hurt too bad, so I’ll be fine.” He tried for a smile, but it barely reached his eyes.

Xie Lian nodded once, like he didn’t quite believe it but wouldn’t press here. Not yet.

A beat passed. The train clattered around a bend.

Hua Cheng’s gaze flicked downward, to the scarf wrapped snug around Xie Lian’s neck. Wool. Slightly frayed. Not quite warm enough for the weather. It looked out of place.

“How about you?” Hua Cheng asked, his voice quieter now. “Your neck…”

Xie Lian’s hand came up reflexively, brushing the scarf as if only now remembering it was there. He didn’t answer right away.

“It’s healing,” he said eventually. “Nothing serious.”

But Hua Cheng remembered the blood. Still, he didn’t push. Didn’t ask what had happened after that night. Not here. Too many ears. Too little courage.

Another few moments passed in silence, full of unspoken things.

When the announcement for their stop crackled overhead, neither of them moved at first.

Then Xie Lian exhaled, almost a sigh. “Come on. Let’s go.”

They walked the last stretch in silence, the late evening casting soft orange shadows over the buildings around them. The sidewalks were quiet, only the distant hum of traffic and the wind threading through street signs.

When they finally turned the corner, Hua Cheng slowed to a stop.

It was just an ordinary building. A little weathered around the edges, paint flaking off the front steps, one shutter hanging slightly crooked on the third floor. A tree leaned over the street out front, its branches brittle with the end of autumn. There was an old-style intercom by the door and a rust-red paint job trying its best to hold on against time.

Nothing about it looked extraordinary. But Hua Cheng couldn’t take his eyes off it.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Sudden, breath-stealing, and impossibly real.

Xie Lian bought a flat. For him.

A roof not borrowed from a gang safehouse or stolen from someone who wouldn’t notice. A space not full of weapons or bugged walls or escape plans. Something someone had chosen. Something Xie Lian had chosen.

And they were going to live together in it. This time with no threat hanging over their heads.

He felt something in his chest twist. The feeling was almost unbearable. He was anxious and elated in equal parts.

Xie Lian glanced at him, as if sensing it. He didn’t say anything, didn’t rush him. Just stood off to the side, hands in his coat pockets, waiting.

They climbed the stairs slowly. The stairwell smelled faintly of cleaning solution and dust. At the top of the stairs, Xie Lian unlocked the door and stepped aside to let him in.

Hua Cheng stepped through the threshold.

The flat was small, modest. But the moment he entered, he could feel it, it was warm.

To the left, a bedroom with mismatched curtains and an old lamp perched at a slant on a nightstand that had clearly seen better days. To the right, a narrow bathroom with soft, clean towels folded on the rack and a toothbrush already placed beside the sink.

Further in, the kitchen was bright and clean. The cabinets had been freshly painted a pale blue, though some edges still bore the uneven strokes of someone who didn’t usually paint. The smell of wood polish and citrus hung faintly in the air.

The living room had an overstuffed couch with a threadbare blanket folded neatly over the armrest. A short bookshelf sat against one wall, already holding a few books. One of the shelves had clearly been glued back together. A low coffee table, uneven-legged, stood in the middle of the room like it was doing its best.

Everything was mismatched. Worn in places. But there was care in it. Someone had tried. Someone had fixed what they could. Someone had thought about how this space would feel to the person who stepped into it.

It felt like a home.

Hua Cheng took a slow step forward, then another, turning in the middle of the living room. “You did all this?”

“I… wanted it to feel comfortable,” Xie Lian said, from behind him. “It’s not the best but I… I did what I could.”

The air in Hua Cheng’s chest felt too big. He looked around – the mismatched cushions, the faint scent of fresh paint, the careful way things had been arranged to make the space feel like somewhere someone might want to stay. It wasn’t just a place to stash him, not some obligation or temporary fix. No, this was something Xie Lian had chosen to give him. He had picked this place. Cleaned it. Repaired what was broken. Put care into the things no one else would’ve noticed.

And he didn’t do that for just anyone. He did that for him.

A strange ache bloomed behind Hua Cheng’s ribs, something raw and tender and almost unbearable. It was too much. He didn’t know how to hold all of it: the flat, the fact that they were here together, the quiet between them that felt fragile and full of meaning. This was more than he ever expected. More than he ever thought he could want.

His throat was tight as he turned back to Xie Lian.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. His voice shook despite himself. “Really. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

Xie Lian rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking away. “I just…” He exhaled, a little laugh slipping out – brittle and self-conscious. “I wasn’t sure you’d like it. I didn’t know what kind of place would feel right. I just tried to make it… warm. Safe.”

Hua Cheng didn’t know what to do with his feelings. He wanted to cry. He wanted to fall to his knees and swear loyalty all over again. He wanted to reach out and hold Xie Lian in his arms to never let go.

But instead he just stepped a little closer, fingers twitching at his sides, and said softly, “It is. It’s warm. And more than I ever expected. You did more than I deserved.”

Xie Lian’s gaze snapped back to his. “Don’t say that.”

The look in his eyes – tired and gentle, full of guilt but so painfully kind – made Hua Cheng’s breath catch. He didn’t know how to bear that gaze. Didn’t know how to look back without breaking open.

I love you, he thought, so loudly it nearly rose to his mouth. I love you more than this body can hold. I’d give you anything, everything, but you’re the one who gave me something that matters.

Before the silence could stretch between them again, Xie Lian cleared his throat and moved toward the kitchen. “You must be thirsty after everything. Let me get you something.”

Hua Cheng blinked, pulled from the swell of his own thoughts. “Oh. Sure. Thanks.”

Xie Lian disappeared into the kitchen. Hua Cheng stood where he was, not quite sure what to do with himself. He looked down at his hands. They were shaking.

He returned a few seconds later, holding a chipped glass carefully, filled nearly to the brim. He passed it to Hua Cheng gently, their fingers brushing.

Hua Cheng took it with both hands, like it might slip through his grasp otherwise. “Thank you.”

The water was nothing special. Tap water. A little metallic. But he couldn’t remember the last time something had felt so grounding. He drank slowly.

Xie Lian sat down at the edge of the couch, not quite leaning back. His posture was too upright, like he wasn’t sure if he was staying long. His coat was still on.

Hua Cheng stood for a moment longer, unsure where to place himself. Then he sat down on the opposite end of the couch, leaving more space between them than he wanted to. His hand tightened around the glass. He didn’t want to rush this. Didn’t want to break the fragile quiet that had settled between them.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence, along with the occasional groan of pipes in the walls. Outside the window, the city kept breathing: cars passing, footsteps echoing, someone yelling far away. But in here, the world had shrunk to the stretch of space between them. Not far. But not close, either.

Xie Lian sat with his hands folded in his lap. His eyes were fixed on the floor.

“I feel like I should say something,” he said finally, voice low. “But everything I think of sounds too small.”

Hua Cheng glanced over. “You don’t have to–”

“I do,” Xie Lian cut in gently. “I’ve thought about it for years. About you. About Hong-er.” His hands curled slightly, fingers tightening. “I still think about the day I first met you.” A breath. “I thought… I thought I could help. Just a little. Just enough to keep you safe.”

Hua Cheng didn’t move. His heartbeat louder in his chest.

“But instead,” Xie Lian continued, “I left. I abandoned you. And I never got to say I was sorry.”

“You didn’t abandon me,” Hua Cheng said, the words coming fast. His grip on the water glass tightened. “You saved me.”

Xie Lian turned toward him.

“I was twelve when my mother died. I didn’t think I’d make it past fifteen.” Hua Cheng’s voice cracked slightly, but he didn’t look away. “I’d already stopped thinking there was anything else out there. And then you–” His chest tightened. “You were kind to me. No one else had been kind to me in a long time.”

Xie Lian looked like he wanted to speak, but didn’t.

“You didn’t fix everything,” Hua Cheng went on, “but you gave me a roof. A little peace. You made me feel like,” his voice broke, “someone cared about me. You gave me enough to believe that I might have a future. And I’m here now, aren’t I? Because of you.”

Xie Lian exhaled slowly, the sound raw. “I didn’t leave because I stopped caring,” he said. “I left because Jun Wu found out about you. He didn’t know who you were exactly, but he knew there was someone staying with me.” His voice wavered. “He made it clear that wasn’t going to be allowed. So I disappeared. I thought, maybe if I vanished, he’d lose interest. That you’d be safe from him.” He broke off. “Even that I failed to do.”

“You’re the only one that ever tried to protect me from anything,” Hua Cheng said. “And that matters.”

Xie Lian gave a bitter little smile. “I thought you’d be better off away from me. Away from all my mess. So I left the flat to you. I thought… if nothing else, you’d have a place to stay.”

Hua Cheng’s breath caught.

“I came back once,” Xie Lian added, quieter now. “When the government decided to seize the property. Things were bad. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay. But you weren’t there. It didn’t even look like you had been in a while.”

Hua Cheng stared at him. “I stayed for a long time. I waited.” His voice was small. “But then I realized you weren’t coming back. So I left.”

Xie Lian’s head bowed.

“I left to look for you,” Hua Cheng said.

That made Xie Lian freeze.

“I didn’t know where to go,” he added. “Or what I was doing. But I thought, if I could find you, maybe things would make sense again.”

There was a long silence.

“You were never supposed to carry that,” Xie Lian said at last. His voice shook. “You weren’t even– You were just a child.”

“I chose it,” Hua Cheng replied. “None of it was your fault.”

“But I was the adult.”

“I wasn’t your responsibility.” He shook his head.

Xie Lian looked up. There was something wounded in his eyes. “I’m not your responsibility either,” he said softly. “Yet you…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Hua Cheng looked down, fingers tightening around the empty glass. His voice came out softer than he meant it to. “You helped me when I was at my lowest,” he said. “I just… wanted to do the same.”

There was a long pause.

Then, without looking at each other, they both sat back slightly on the couch. Not quite close, not quite far. The space between them had changed again – not gone, but gentler.

But eventually, reality pulled at the edges. The weight of everything that had come before, and everything that would come after.

Xie Lian shifted slightly, his gaze turned distant. “You’ve probably heard by now. About Wuyong.”

Hua Cheng nodded. “Some of it.”

Xie Lian exhaled. “It’s done. The whole thing’s unraveling. Without Jun Wu, it couldn’t hold.” He sounded tired, but relieved. “The police are finally dismantling it for good,” he went on. “Wuyong won’t hurt anyone else.”

Hua Cheng leaned back slightly, letting the words sink in. It was the end.

“Some of the old men followed Pei Ming and Ling Wen,” Xie Lian added. “They started something new. I can only hope it will be better.”

Hua Cheng tilted his head, thoughtful. “Pei Ming’s an arrogant bastard, but… he means well. Mostly.” That earned a faint smile from Xie Lian.

“And Black Water?” Hua Cheng asked, quieter now. “I haven’t heard anything since…”

“He’s still standing,” Xie Lian said. “Took losses. A few arrests. But the core of the triad’s intact. He got what he wanted. Shi Wudu’s gone, and Jun Wu too.”

“And he’s not disbanding?”

“No.” Xie Lian shook his head. “He said something like, ‘I built this for a reason. I’ll keep it going for one.’”

Silence again, but this time heavier. They both stared out toward the dark window, where streetlights bled their soft glow against the glass.

After a moment, Xie Lian asked, “And you? What do you want to do now?”

Hua Cheng blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I don’t really have a plan.”

Xie Lian smiled faintly. “Me neither.”

“I don’t know how to do normal,” Hua Cheng admitted, with a dry laugh. “But I want to try.”

Xie Lian nodded. “Then we’ll try.”

We.

Finally, Xie Lian looked over at him. His voice was soft, but certain.

“For now,” he said, “the only thing you should do is rest.” He stood, gently took the now-empty glass from Hua Cheng’s hands. “We’ll… figure the rest later.”

Hua Cheng watched him, heart full to the brim with everything unspoken. They would. Together.

Finally remembering something, Hua Cheng shifted, stretching his fingers along the fabric of his pants. “Hey,” he said after a moment. “Ruoye… Is he…?”

Xie Lian looked up, startled for a second, then smiled softly. “He’s okay. He’s with Shi Qingxuan for now.”

Hua Cheng blinked. “Really?”

“They were thrilled to have a pet snake. I think they’ve renamed him five times already.”

A breath of laughter slipped out of Hua Cheng before he could help it. “He’s probably already wrapped around their neck like a scarf.”

“He is,” Xie Lian said, almost fondly. “Apparently they take him everywhere. He gets a lot of attention.”

“That’s… good,” Hua Cheng murmured, and for a second something eased in his chest. A thread of tension he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying unspooled.

Xie Lian’s gaze turned toward him again, a little more serious. “Thank you. For saving him. For bringing him with you when you ran.”

Hua Cheng looked away, suddenly self-conscious. “I couldn’t just leave him there.”

“I know,” Xie Lian said. “But you were injured. And you still thought to keep him safe and leave him somewhere he’d be protected.” His voice was quiet. Earnest. “It means a lot. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to him.”

Hua Cheng didn’t know what to say to that. His throat felt too tight to answer properly. So he just nodded, eyes lowering.

By the time evening settled in, the apartment had grown quieter. Outside, the sun had dipped below the buildings, casting the room in a dim gold before the lights came on.

Xie Lian stood awkwardly near the kitchen, hands fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.

“Ah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck – he had taken off his coat and scarf, but his turtleneck still covered his wound – “There should be… some stuff to eat in the fridge.”

Hua Cheng glanced at him, then padded over and pulled the fridge open.

Inside, there were a few modest groceries. But more interestingly, on the second shelf was a plastic container. Hua Cheng took it out and cracked the lid open.

He peered inside. The contents were… purple. And gloopy.

He stared for a beat too long. “…What’s this?”

Xie Lian’s expression crumpled instantly into bashful panic. “Ah! Haha, well… I thought you’d probably be tired and hungry, so I… cooked something?” His voice wavered between uncertainty and embarrassment. “But you really don’t have to eat it! Actually, forget it! I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea–”

He reached forward to take the container from Hua Cheng, clearly intending to throw it out and erase all evidence, but Hua Cheng stepped back, clutching it protectively to his chest like it was made of gold.

“No!”

Xie Lian blinked. “Hua Cheng…”

“I’ll eat it,” he said, serious as ever.

“You really don’t have to force yourself–”

“I’m not.” He turned, already heading toward the microwave. Xie Lian opened his mouth like he wanted to object again, but hesitated.

“Should I reheat it?” Hua Cheng asked, halfway through the motions already. The thing in the container looked like it should be reheated, but it was hard to tell for sure.

Xie Lian gave a resigned nod. “Ah… yes, but–”

Too late. The microwave whirred to life. A strange, burnt scent began to fill the small kitchen. The purple goo looked somehow more alarming once it was steaming.

Xie Lian winced. “Forget it. I’ll just… I’ll order something. I’m sorry.” His voice dropped. “I thought… I could try to do something nice, but…” He bit his lower lip, eyes darting away, shoulders drawn in. “Sorry,” he said again, smaller this time.

Hua Cheng didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he walked over to the drawer to look for a spoon and scooped up a bite of food. The texture was definitely… questionable. But he ate it anyway.

“It tastes good, gege.” He wasn’t even lying. It was good. In fact, it was the best thing he ever tasted.

Xie Lian’s eyes flicked to him, startled. “You…” A smile almost touched his lips, but then he looked down. “You don’t have to lie to please me.”

“I’m not,” Hua Cheng said quickly, earnest. He met Xie Lian’s eyes. “I promise I like it.” He hesitated, then added softly, “It’s the first time anyone’s ever cooked for me. At least… that I can remember.” He smiled. “So thank you. You did do something nice.”

Xie Lian blinked, something flickering in his expression. Surprise, then guilt, then warmth, like a candle lit gently from within.

“Oh,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

They stood there for a moment before Xie Lian changed the subject.

“You called me gege again,” he said, his voice soft.

Hua Cheng froze mid-motion, the spoon still in his hand. His eyes widened a little, as if the word had slipped out without his permission.

“Ah, sorry,” he said quickly, pulling back like he’d overstepped.

But Xie Lian shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “No,” he said. “I like it.”

The simplicity of the words knocked the breath out of Hua Cheng a little.

They didn’t say anything more for a while.

Hua Cheng busied himself with setting the table. He opened the cabinet in search of plates. He found two mismatched ones – one plain white, the other with faded cartoon vegetables along the rim – and set them carefully on the table. He ladled the purple goo into each dish like it was a delicacy.

When Hua Cheng placed one of the plates in front of him, Xie Lian said, “Thank you, Hua Cheng.”

Hua Cheng paused, the second plate still in his hands. He hesitated.

Then, a little too quiet, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask, “Actually… I would prefer if gege called me San Lang.”

There was a beat of silence.

Hua Cheng kept his gaze down, bracing for rejection, for awkwardness, for something that would tell him he’d gone too far, too fast. That he was asking for something he hadn’t earned yet – if he ever would.

But when he looked up, Xie Lian was smiling. Not the soft, embarrassed smile from before. This one was warmer. A little sad, maybe. A little stunned. But genuine.

“Of course, San Lang,” he said.

The warmth that bloomed in Hua Cheng’s chest was nearly unbearable. He quickly turned back toward the table, ears pink, trying to hide the way his fingers shook just slightly as he set down the last plate.

They sat together, awkward but settled, over a dinner that was halfway between soup and science experiment.

It was late by the time the dishes had been cleared and they'd both retreated back to the couch. The atmosphere had shifted, lighter now. They were sitting closer than they had before, knees nearly touching. Conversation meandered gently from city noise to strange dreams, to the ridiculous things people said on the bus.

Xie Lian laughed quietly at something Hua Cheng said when he yawned.

Hua Cheng noticed immediately. “We should go to sleep,” he said.

Xie Lian stretched lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You should shower first,” he responded. “You’ve had a long day, and you’ll feel better after.”

Hua Cheng opened his mouth to protest, but Xie Lian was already turning toward the hallway. “There’s a pair of pajamas in the bedroom,” he added. “I wasn’t sure about the size, but… they should do for now.”

That caught Hua Cheng off guard.

“You bought those… for me?” he asked softly.

Xie Lian didn’t turn around. “Just in case,” he murmured.

A strange warmth bloomed in Hua Cheng’s chest, but he only nodded and quietly made his way to the bedroom. The pajamas were neatly folded in the wardrobe – a soft cotton set, simple and a little oversized. He carried them to the bathroom with care, still not quite believing any of this was real.

The shower was hot and quiet. Steam filled the small space as Hua Cheng carefully peeled off the bandages over his eye and set them aside. In the mirror, his reflection looked older than he remembered. Tired, thinner than he’d like, but… alive.

He touched his bare cheek, and then the area around his eye.

He needed to get new contacts. Soon. The bandages served their purpose in the hospital, but… he didn’t like the memories that they brought with them.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in the slightly baggy pajamas and towel-drying his hair, he went to look for Xie Lian to tell him that the bathroom was free. But as he entered the living room, he stopped.

Xie Lian had turned the couch into a makeshift bed while he was gone. A blanket was draped carefully over a stack of pillows at one end, and a spare sheet had been tucked in around the sides. He must’ve done it quickly, quietly. Like he didn’t want to make a fuss.

Hua Cheng blinked. “Gege…”

Xie Lian looked up from where he was adjusting the blanket. “Ah, I figured I’d let you take the bed,” he said, voice light.

“What? No.” Hua Cheng frowned. “You don’t have to. I’ll–”

“No,” Xie Lian interrupted, gently but firmly. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the one who needs rest. You just got out of the hospital.” His voice dipped slightly, colored by guilt he hadn’t voiced earlier.

Hua Cheng opened his mouth, then closed it. His heart thudded too loud in his chest.

“…Let’s just share,” he blurted out. “We slept together before, right?”

The silence that followed was instant and absolute.

Then Hua Cheng’s ears turned pink. “I mean– We shared a bed before. Not–”

Xie Lian coughed into his hand, face crimson. “Right. Yeah. I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile creeping in. “We can share. That’s fine.”

They stood there for a moment longer, looking everywhere but at each other.

Then Xie Lian cleared his throat and walked toward the bathroom. “Let me just go shower. You can go ahead and get settled.”

Hua Cheng nodded, feeling something in his chest loosen slightly. “You should take some pajamas too.” He’d seen a second pair next to the first in the bedroom.

Xie Lian paused mid-step with a sheepish smile. “Ah. Right.”

He disappeared down the hallway, grabbing the folded pajamas before heading into the bathroom.

The door clicked shut. The soft hum of running water started soon after.

Left alone in the quiet, Hua Cheng sat on the edge of the bed and slowly started brushing his hair. He felt steadier now. Still nervous, still a little unsure, but the kind of unsure that felt like standing at the edge of something good, not terrible.

He had just finished braiding his hair and putting back his bandages when Xie Lian returned.

The bathroom door opened with a soft creak, steam curling out behind him in a warm puff of mist. Xie Lian stepped out slowly, hair still damp and clinging to his temples. The pajamas were slightly too loose in his shoulders, the sleeves a little long.

Hua Cheng sat up slightly, blinking against the soft lamplight. The moment he saw him, something in his chest tightened.

Xie Lian’s hair was shorter than before. Even shorter than the last time they’d seen each other. It looked like he had to cut it again, trying to repair the damage where the ends had been chopped unevenly. And just below the curve of his jaw, where his collar dipped, a faint mark caught the light. Thin. Pale. A clean line drawn where Jun Wu’s blade had met flesh.

Xie Lian reached up as if he’d felt the weight of Hua Cheng’s gaze. His fingers pushed a few strands of hair behind his ear. “I haven’t figured out how to style it yet,” he said lightly, trying for nonchalance. But there was something in the way he looked down, something brittle in the twist of his mouth. “It’ll be some time before I can do a ponytail again.”

Hua Cheng’s breath caught. His eye flicked, just for a second, from Xie Lian’s hair to the edge of that scar. But he said nothing about it.

Instead, he offered a soft, careful smile. “It suits you.”

Xie Lian blinked, visibly surprised.

“I mean it,” Hua Cheng added, a little more firmly. Then, softer again, “It’s still you.”

Xie Lian’s expression faltered for a second. Then, slowly, he gave a tiny nod and crossed the room.

They settled into the bed with an awkward shuffle of limbs and blankets. It was a small bed, meant for one not two, but neither of them mentioned it. The silence was comfortable, or at least striving to be.

Xie Lian lay on his side, his back to Hua Cheng. His breathing was slow and steady, but Hua Cheng could see from the faint tension in his shoulders that he wasn’t asleep yet. His hair, still slightly damp, left small marks on the pillowcase.

He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The faint hum of the refrigerator drifted in from the kitchen. Somewhere outside, a car passed by, headlights briefly cutting across the curtains. But inside the apartment, it was still and dim, the hush of nighttime settling over everything like a blanket.

The space between them was only a few inches.

Hua Cheng could feel the warmth of Xie Lian’s body near his own, a quiet presence that made his chest ache, not with pain, but with something gentler. He didn’t reach out. He didn’t dare. His hand lay between them on the mattress, half-curled into the sheets. Close, but not quite touching.

He didn’t need to.

Just being here – breathing the same air, wrapped in the same silence – was enough. It was more than he ever thought he’d have again.

Beside him, Xie Lian shifted slightly. Not away. Closer.

Hua Cheng held his breath.

“Are you awake?” Xie Lian’s voice was quiet. Almost a whisper.

“Yeah,” Hua Cheng whispered back.

A pause.

Then Xie Lian said, still facing away, “Thank you. For… not giving up on me.”

Hua Cheng turned his head to look at the back of Xie Lian’s neck. His voice was low and certain. “I never could.”

Another silence. Softer now. Not awkward. Just full of things unspoken, things understood.

Then Xie Lian murmured, “Goodnight, San Lang.”

Hua Cheng closed his eyes.

“…Goodnight, gege.”

Chapter Text

The shrill blare of the fire alarm jolted Hua Cheng from sleep.

He shot upright, heart thundering, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a groan. The bed beside him was empty. Cold. Blankets shoved aside. Light was filtering in through the curtains now – early morning gray, bright enough to sting his eyes.

“Gege?” he called, voice hoarse with sleep.

No answer. Another loud beep from the alarm. A crash coming from the kitchen.

He stumbled out of bed, tugging his pajama top straight as he padded barefoot into the hallway. His hair was an unruly mess, his braid half undone. The bandages still wrapped across his eye, but even without them, he wouldn’t have needed to see clearly to smell it: something was burning.

He rushed to the kitchen.

The scene that greeted him was… chaos, contained in the shape of Xie Lian.

Standing in front of the stove, wearing a fresh set of clothes, Xie Lian was frantically waving a dish towel under the smoke detector. A frying pan on the stove was billowing smoke, the edges of whatever had been cooking now blackened and curling. Something that might’ve once been youtiao sizzled stubbornly.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry– I thought I had time–!” Xie Lian said, panicking as the alarm screamed overhead. His face was flushed. “I didn’t mean to– I just wanted to surprise you with–!”

Hua Cheng, blinking past the smoke, moved forward without thinking. “It’s okay, I’ve got it. Here.”

He reached for the stove and turned off the burner, then carefully slid the smoking pan off the heat. The oil inside was still popping faintly. He grabbed the lid and covered the pan to smother the smoke. The scorched smell lingered, thick and bitter. The fire alarm still beeped madly.

“Stand on the chair,” Hua Cheng said over the noise, already reaching for the window latch with his free hand. Xie Lian obeyed, climbing up and waving the towel at the alarm until, mercifully, it fell silent.

They stood in the sudden quiet, the kitchen hazy with the last wisps of smoke. Both of them breathing hard. Both of them blinking.

Then Xie Lian looked at him sheepishly from the chair. “…Good morning?”

Hua Cheng stared at him for a second, then snorted – he couldn’t help it. “Is this how you usually cook breakfast?”

“I was trying not to wake you,” Xie Lian muttered, embarrassed. “I just… haven’t cooked in a while. I’m still trying to get the hang of it.”

Xie Lian stepped down carefully from the chair, still looking a little dazed. His shirt hung slightly askew from his frantic movements, sleeves rolled up halfway. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped short.

He was staring at Hua Cheng.

Hua Cheng blinked, suddenly aware of the state he was in: pajama top wrinkled, one side slipping off his shoulder, his hair a complete mess. His braid had nearly unraveled completely in the scramble out of the room, now draped unevenly over his shoulder. Stray strands clung to his cheeks and temple, and the bandages over his eye felt even more conspicuous in the morning light.

Self-conscious, he reached up and tugged the braid the rest of the way loose, fingers combing through the long strands clumsily.

Xie Lian turned abruptly to the stove, ears burning red. “The youtiao are probably beyond saving, but maybe… maybe the congee didn’t catch fire?”

Hua Cheng stepped beside Xie Lian and together, they surveyed the damage. Most of the youtiao were charred beyond recognition, more ash than dough, curled up like overcooked reeds.

“I guess I overestimated myself,” Xie Lian said after a moment, not quite meeting Hua Cheng’s eyes.

Hua Cheng watched him, and quietly said, “It’s okay. Even if it didn’t turn out the way you wanted… thank you for trying.” He then looked at the pot simmering on the back burner. “And the congee seems perfectly fine. I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”

The congee did seem relatively untouched, quietly bubbling away as if it had slept through the entire disaster. Its color was slightly off, but it didn’t look burnt.

Xie Lian didn’t look convinced, but the tension eased from his shoulders. Together, they salvaged what they could. Scraping out the worst of the mess, opening a window to let the smoke escape, and plating the lone surviving youtiao (or what could be generously described as the “least burnt” one) beside the congee.

They carried the bowls of congee and the single charred youtiao to the low table in the living room, the air still faintly tinged with smoke but no longer suffocating. As Hua Cheng set the bowls down, his gaze caught on a sports bag resting beside the couch. It hadn’t been there the night before.

He tilted his head toward it. “Gege…?”

Xie Lian followed his glance and gave a small, sheepish smile. “Ah. I went to get my things earlier.”

“You went out already?” Hua Cheng looked at him, a frown flickering across his brow. “You should’ve woken me. I would’ve gone with you.”

“It wasn’t far,” Xie Lian said quickly, waving a hand. “And I didn’t want to disturb you. You needed to rest.”

Hua Cheng’s chest tightened, something warm curling just under his ribs. He didn’t answer right away, but the way he looked at Xie Lian said enough.

“I also need to go pick up Ruoye at some point,” Xie Lian added, softer now. “I’ll go get him later. Probably not this morning.” Xie Lian took a sip of congee. “Shi Qingxuan isn’t exactly a morning person.”

Hua Cheng huffed a quiet laugh. “I can imagine.”

As Xie Lian turned his attention to the food, Hua Cheng let his fingers drift to the bandages still wrapped around his eye. They weren’t exactly the most comfortable. Physically and mentally. They felt like a weight, visible and heavy. A reminder of too many things he was trying to let go of. Plus, they caught too many stares, too much attention.

He’d head out after breakfast, he decided. Just a short trip. Get new black contacts. Familiar. Invisible.

He glanced at Xie Lian, who was poking at the youtiao with a pair of chopsticks, trying to find a piece edible enough to break apart.

“I’ll step out for a bit after we eat,” Hua Cheng said casually, reaching for his own bowl. “Just to run a quick errand.”

Xie Lian looked up. “Do you need anything? I can come with you.”

Hua Cheng shook his head, offering a small smile. “It’s nothing serious. Just something I’ve been meaning to take care of.”

Xie Lian didn’t press. He simply nodded and returned his attention to the congee. “Alright.” After a few quiet bites, he glanced at Hua Cheng again. “You should probably go buy some clothes for yourself too,” he said, gently. “There’s a few in the bedroom, but…”

“I don’t need anything else,” Hua Cheng shook his head. “Gege’s clothes are fine.”

Xie Lian gave a soft laugh, though his expression remained earnest. “No, no. You should have things you like. Things you chose for yourself.”

Hua Cheng hesitated, chopsticks paused midair. There was something in Xie Lian’s voice – not insistence, exactly, but care, quiet and sincere. The kind that left little room for protest.

“…Alright,” Hua Cheng said after a beat, voice low. “Maybe I’ll look around a bit.”

Xie Lian smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “Good.”

They returned to their meal, the congee warm and comforting despite the lingering scent of burnt oil in the air.

The morning air was crisp and a little damp when Hua Cheng stepped outside. The streets were only just beginning to stir, thin clouds of steam curling from vents and gutters, city sounds still muted under the hush of early hours. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat, just slightly too short in the sleeves, and walked with purpose, though not particularly fast.

He resisted the urge to tug at his bandages and kept walking.

The pharmacy he found was quiet, a bell jingling softly as he stepped in. The fluorescent lights made everything feel a little too clean, a little too sterile. He blinked under their glare and moved toward the counter where a bored-looking clerk greeted him with a nod.

He asked for black contact lenses. Daily wear, no prescription.

The clerk stared at his face a little too long before heading to the back.

He stood in silence, watching his faint reflection in the plexiglass divider. A vague outline of his face, half-obscured by the bandages, blurry and distant.

The clerk returned with a small box and rang it up.

“That all?” she asked.

Hua Cheng nodded.

Outside again, he stood on the sidewalk for a moment, the box of contacts in one hand. He could already feel the faint pull in his chest start to ease.

Hua Cheng ducked into a quiet alley a few blocks from the store, one of those narrow, half-forgotten slivers between buildings where morning light barely reached the ground. He crouched beside a rusted fire escape, opened the box, and peeled back the seal of a lens case.

He knew it was bad hygiene, putting in a contact like this with no clean water and hands still city-dirty from doorknobs and handrails. He knew he should wait until he was back at the appartement, but he took the contact out of its box anyway.

With practiced precision, he unwind the bandages, lifted the lens and pressed it to his right eye. A soft blink. A shift. The world sharpened.

He blinked a few more times, adjusting to the new clarity. There was no mirror to check if the lens sat straight, no clean surface to be sure it was right, but it felt good enough. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging it just enough to fall over the right side of his face, concealing his eye just in case.

It would do.

After a beat, he stood, slipped the box into his pocket, and stepped back into the street.

The streets had grown busier by the time Hua Cheng reached the next row of shops. A clothing store caught his eye. He hesitated for a moment outside, then stepped in.

He moved through the racks quickly, picking out black shirts, a jacket, a few pairs of pants. Simple, clean lines. Familiar cuts. The kind of clothing he’d always gravitated toward, where color and detail bowed quietly to utility. It didn’t feel like choosing so much as remembering.

Then, almost by accident, his hand brushed something else. Fabric the color of fresh blood, deep and vivid beneath the store lights. A red shirt.

He froze, fingers tightening slightly around the hanger.

It was… bold. Too bright. The kind of color that drew attention without asking. For a long moment, he just stood there, the weight of memory pressing against instinct. Then he took a breath and slid it from the rack.

He added a second red shirt. Then a hoodie. He stared at them in his basket longer than necessary, as if expecting them to disappear if he blinked too hard.

At checkout, while the cashier rang up his things, his eyes drifted toward a small display near the register. Makeup. Drugstore-tier, mostly. Cheap gloss, plastic compacts, a row of pencil eyeliners in black, brown, and… red.

He picked it up before he could think too hard. Then held it in his hand, still deciding.

It’s stupid, he thought. It’s unnecessary. He didn’t need it. It was just–

He placed it on the counter with the rest of his things.

The cashier didn’t even blink.

As Hua Cheng stepped out of the store with the bag in hand, he felt something quiet settle over him. Not comfort, exactly. But not discomfort, either. The weight of the bandages was gone. His hair hung loose over one eye. His reflection in the window glass was his own.

The apartment door clicked softly as Hua Cheng let himself back in. The air inside was warmer than the chill street outside, still carrying the faint scent of scorched oil and rice. His footsteps were quiet against the floorboards, but Xie Lian still looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged on the couch, a book open in his lap.

His gaze landed on Hua Cheng’s face – uncovered now, save for the curtain of hair falling neatly over his eye. His expression didn’t change, but he held Hua Cheng’s gaze for a beat longer than usual.

He didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he smiled slightly and asked, “Did you find what you needed?”

Hua Cheng gave a small nod. “Yeah. I did.”

Xie Lian set the book aside and shifted to sit properly, feet on the floor. “I sent a message to Shi Qingxuan while you were out,” he said lightly. “He replied, eventually. I’ll go pick up Ruoye at three, if you want to come.”

“Sure,” Hua Cheng said. He moved to set the shopping bag down quietly near the coat rack, then turned back toward the living room.

Xie Lian’s smile softened, eyes following him with a quiet kind of fondness. 

Everything felt unreal. He shouldn’t be allowed to have this.

The streets had thickened since the morning – more cars, more people, more noise. By the time they were halfway to Shi Qingxuan’s place, the crowd had shifted from ordinary bustle to something denser, more purposeful. Voices carried. Signs bobbed above heads. Someone shouted through a megaphone a few blocks down, the words indistinct but the anger unmistakable.

Xie Lian slowed as they reached the edge of the gathering. “Looks like a protest,” he said, scanning the crowd. “I didn’t realize there’d be one today.”

Hua Cheng, at his side, didn’t respond right away. His gaze swept the street, noting the signs and chants: corruption, reform, accountability. The aftershocks of Wuyong’s downfall still rippled through the city, surfacing here in slogans and raised fists.

Xie Lian hesitated at the edge of the crowd, brow furrowed.

“Do you want to turn back?” Hua Cheng asked, though his voice was already tense, protective.

Xie Lian shook his head. “No. It’s just a few blocks. If we go carefully…”

They stepped into the crowd. Almost immediately, they were pulled apart by the tide of bodies. Then, a hand found Hua Cheng’s. Fingers slipped into his palm and gripped, firm and steady.

Hua Cheng’s thoughts emptied in an instant.

He glanced down. Xie Lian wasn’t even looking at him, just scanning the crowd ahead like it was the most normal thing in the world. As if his hand wasn’t wrapped around Hua Cheng’s like it had always belonged there. He gripped Hua Cheng’s hand like it was natural, like it meant nothing at all.

To Hua Cheng, it meant everything.

Xie Lian’s fingers were warm and steady, calloused in places, strong in that quiet, unshowy way he did everything.

The moment the contact registered, his entire body seemed to tighten and unfurl all at once. Like something he’d been bracing against forever had suddenly loosened, only to leave every nerve raw and alert.

He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Just curled his fingers back, holding on like his life depended on it. He held on as though he’d been handed the most fragile, sacred thing in the world.

They moved together through the crush of people, half-shoved, half-guided by the crowd’s momentum. At some point they had to press closer, shoulders brushing. A protester bumped against Hua Cheng’s side, and Xie Lian instinctively tugged him back into step without missing a beat.

Every heartbeat felt too loud in Hua Cheng’s ears. Every breath too shallow. He kept sneaking glances down at their joined hands, trying to memorize the exact shape of this moment. His thumb against Xie Lian’s, the angle of his wrist, the subtle pressure of each step forward.

The city roared around them, but all he could feel was the soft, steady anchor of Xie Lian’s touch. He didn’t want it to end.

And it didn’t. By the time they reached Shi Qingxuan’s apartment building and stepped into the quiet of the stairwell, the street noise muffled behind the thick door, they were still holding hands.

Shi Qingxuan opened the door before Xie Lian could knock properly.

“Hi,” he said brightly before looking down. “Why are you holding hands?”

Both of them froze.

Xie Lian blinked and glanced down, then quickly let go. “Ah – sorry.”

Hua Cheng said nothing. Just gave Shi Qingxuan the flattest look he could manage while internally combusting.

Shi Qingxuan, utterly unfazed, stepped aside to let them in.

Hua Cheng followed, schooling his face into something close to neutral.

Mentally, he cursed Shi Qingxuan six ways to hell.

Inside, the air was faintly sweet with the smell of dried herbs and something citrusy, candied orange peel, maybe. The apartment was a little cluttered, lived-in in a way that felt comfortable rather than messy: books stacked under tables, paper fans leaned in the corners, half a string of fairy lights drooping from one wall like it had given up halfway through a job.

Hua Cheng looked around, taking in the sunlit cushions on the window seat, the gently humming humidifier in the corner.

“You finally decorated,” Xie Lian said with a smile.

“Excuse you,” Shi Qingxuan replied, shutting the door behind them. “This has always had a theme, ‘bohemian academic hermit’, thank you very much.”

Hua Cheng stepped just inside the threshold, unsure for a beat. It had been months since he’d last seen Shi Qingxuan.

“It’s Hua Cheng now, right? Xie Lian told me,” Shi Qingxuan said, turning to him. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Hua Cheng answered, unsure what to say.

Shi Qingxuan didn’t push.

Hua Cheng then hesitated, glancing once at Xie Lian. He should have asked him before coming here what had happened to Shi Qingxuan after Shi Wudu’s death, but he had been too distracted to think about it.

There was a pause. Hua Cheng stood with his hands tucked in his coat pockets. “And you?” he finally asked.

Shi Qingxuan’s expression faltered for just a moment. “It could be worse.” He gave a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I mean… it’s not like my brother was a good person,” he added. “He… did a lot of damage. To other people. To me. I know that.” Another pause. “But he was still my brother. So. Yeah.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It hurts.”

Hua Cheng said nothing. He couldn’t quite understand how Shi Qingxuan was feeling. He’d known his fair share of shitty family members. Most of them, he didn’t know if they died, but he hoped they had. He’d only feel happy if he were to learn they died.

“And with He-xiong…” Qingxuan trailed off, then sighed, waving a hand. “It’s complicated.”

He turned away before either of them could ask more, his tone lifting as he changed the subject – too deliberately. “Anyway, Ruoye’s been sulking. I think he misses you. Come on, he’s in the study.”

He led them down the short hall, speaking over his shoulder. “I fed him this morning, so he’s not in murder mode, but he’s been really dramatic lately.”

They arrived in the study, where the tank sat against the far wall, half-shaded by an overgrown spider plant on the windowsill. The enclosure was well-kept, with branches, smooth stones, and a shallow water dish tucked neatly into one corner. A warming lamp glowed softly overhead, casting long golden streaks over the glass.

“There he is,” Shi Qingxuan said, crouching in front of the tank.

At the sound of familiar voices, Ruoye stirred. A ripple of motion under the substrate, then a graceful length of white scales emerged – his head lifting, tongue flicking once, then again. The moment his eyes landed on Hua Cheng, he slithered forward with purpose.

Hua Cheng blinked.

Ruoye pressed himself against the glass, coiling and uncoiling like he was trying to find a way through. He flicked his tongue rapidly, his whole body a shivering line of excitement.

Xie Lian stepped forward and unlatched the top of the tank. The moment the lid lifted, Ruoye rose up eagerly and, before anyone could react, climbed right over Xie Lian’s arm and made a beeline for Hua Cheng.

With surprising speed, Ruoye coiled around Hua Cheng’s wrist, then up along his arm, winding himself comfortably around his shoulders. His scales were cool to the touch, a soft brush of weight that settled against Hua Cheng’s collar like a scarf with a mind of its own.

Hua Cheng froze. Then, slowly, he reached up with one hand, cupping the back of Ruoye’s head. The snake nuzzled into his fingers contentedly, his eyes half-lidded.

“…He missed you,” Xie Lian said, fond and a little amused.

Ruoye flicked his tongue and settled deeper into the curve of Hua Cheng’s neck.

Hua Cheng let out a soft breath, his hand lingering against Ruoye’s smooth head. He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected to be remembered so clearly, so eagerly. The curl of scales around his neck was firm but comforting, anchoring him in a way that surprised him.

He adjusted his stance and lifted Ruoye gently, letting the snake wind through his fingers and over his palm. Ruoye twisted obligingly, curling in lazy loops between Hua Cheng’s hands like he was playing along. His tongue flicked against Hua Cheng’s knuckles, curious and calm.

“He’s gotten bigger,” Hua Cheng murmured, brushing a thumb along the underside of Ruoye’s jaw.

Ruoye shifted his weight suddenly, the smooth muscle of his body rippling as he uncoiled from Hua Cheng’s shoulders. With deliberate slowness, he slithered down Hua Cheng’s arm and looped once around his forearm before dipping lower, curling around his wrist like a thick, living bracelet. Then, with what could only be described as intent, Ruoye angled his head downward and began weaving himself through the crook of Hua Cheng’s elbow and around his waist, like he was trying to claim every inch of available surface.

Hua Cheng let out a breathless laugh, caught off guard by the sheer commitment.

“Alright, alright,” he murmured, shifting his arms to keep Ruoye’s body supported. “You win.”

Ruoye flicked his tongue and draped himself around Hua Cheng’s midsection, his tail coiling lazily over Hua Cheng’s hip. He was warm now, warmed by touch and contentment, his long body hugging close with slow, sleepy confidence.

“You’re really not letting go, are you,” Hua Cheng said, voice low.

Ruoye nudged under his elbow as if in reply, then stilled. Settled like he’d just come home.

By the time they got back, the sun was just beginning to slip toward the horizon, casting a golden haze through the apartment windows. They carefully lowered Ruoye’s tank onto the table by the window, where the late light filtered in just right. Xie Lian adjusted the lid, checked the heat lamp, then stepped back to admire their work. Ruoye, freshly settled, was already comfortably coiled on his basking rock.

Hua Cheng reached out to give the snake a brief stroke along the back. Ruoye flicked his tongue and stayed where he was, perfectly content.

Then Xie Lian turned suddenly, as if remembering something. “Ah, right. San Lang–” He paused, then smiled gently. “You still don’t have a phone.”

Hua Cheng blinked. “I don’t really need one.”

“You do,” Xie Lian said with zero hesitation. “What if I’m out and I need to text you? Or call you to pick up congee on your way home?” he added jokingly.

Hua Cheng hesitated, his brow drawing together. That was definitely the right thing to say to convince him. “But… that’s more money, isn’t it?” His voice lowered. “Gege, you’ve already spent so much. On the apartment, the groceries, now this… it’s too much, just for me.”

Xie Lian tilted his head and looked at him, expression soft but firm. “Of course it’s not too much. And we still have some money left. Besides,” he added, “I was planning on looking for a job soon anyway.”

Hua Cheng’s chest twisted. The thought of Xie Lian working because of him – even though he knew Xie Lian didn’t mind it – still made something in him rebel. It should be him working. It should be him taking care of things. If it was up to him, Xie Lian would never have to lift a finger ever again in his life.

But he didn’t say any of that. He just looked at Xie Lian’s steady face, the quiet conviction in his eyes, and nodded slowly.

“Alright,” Hua Cheng said at last, voice low. He would find a job soon too.

Xie Lian beamed. “Good. I know a store not far from here.”

They didn’t need to hold hands this time, but as they stepped out into the cooling evening light, Hua Cheng’s fingers brushed close to Xie Lian’s, just once. On purpose.

The electronics store was bright and humming with quiet music, rows of glass displays lit from beneath like treasure cases. Phones gleamed under fluorescent lights. Hua Cheng lingered by the door for a moment, taking it all in. He didn’t like places like this. Too sterile, too many people, too many eyes. But Xie Lian walked in without hesitation, scanning the options with casual ease.

A sales clerk spotted them and started to approach, but Xie Lian shook his head gently. “Just looking for now,” he said with a polite smile, taking Hua Cheng by the elbow and steering them toward the display cases near the back.

“See anything you like?” Xie Lian asked.

Hua Cheng glanced at the options. “Something simple,” he murmured. “I don’t need much.”

Xie Lian hummed thoughtfully, crouching to inspect a modest model with a sturdy case and decent battery life. “This one’s good,” he said. “Not too expensive, easy to use, still does everything you’d need it to. What do you think?”

Hua Cheng looked at it, then at him. “If you picked it, I trust it.”

Xie Lian rolled his eyes a little, smiling as he flagged down the clerk. “We’ll take this one,” he said.

It was quick after that. The box handed over, the SIM card installed. Hua Cheng stood quietly beside Xie Lian the whole time, gaze flicking between the phone and Xie Lian’s profile.

When it came time to pick out a case, Hua Cheng reached automatically for a simple matte black one.

“You sure you don’t want to get a red case?” Xie Lian asked, glancing at his hoodie with a teasing smile. “To match?”

Hua Cheng paused, his fingers still hovering over the black. He hesitated just long enough for the question not to be rhetorical.

“Red suits you,” Xie Lian added, quieter now. More sincere.

The compliment caught Hua Cheng off guard. His breath hitched for a second, the words lingering in the air. His heart skipped, fluttering in a way he wasn't prepared for. He blinked, his hand still hovering midair over the cases, as a sudden thought crept into his mind. Would Xie Lian think the same thing about his eye?

The thought was absurd. Ridiculous. Hua Cheng shook his head, mentally cursing himself.

Still, after a beat, he switched to the red case.

Once the setup was done, Hua Cheng turned the phone over in his hand, fidgeting. He was still poking through the home screen when Xie Lian leaned in and said, “Give it here. I’ll put my number in.”

Hua Cheng handed it over without hesitation. Their fingers brushed, and Xie Lian didn’t seem to notice, but Hua Cheng felt it like static under his skin.

Xie Lian tapped quickly, entering his number, then handed the phone back. Hua Cheng glanced at the contact, seeing that it was listed under Xie Lian. With a few quick taps, he changed the name to Gege.

He hovered a moment longer, thumb above the emoji keyboard, considering adding a heart. In the end, he didn’t dare. Not with Xie Lian standing so close.

Instead, he lifted the phone, turned it slightly, and snapped a quick picture of Xie Lian while he wasn’t quite paying attention.

Xie Lian blinked. “What…was that?”

Hua Cheng angled the screen toward him. Xie Lian’s face filled the display: slightly startled, caught mid-turn, the light behind him soft.

“To remind me who the phone’s for,” Hua Cheng said smoothly, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

Xie Lian flushed, caught between amusement and embarrassment. “I’m not the only reason you need a phone.”

Hua Cheng didn’t answer, setting the picture as his wallpaper.

Chapter Text

Xie Lian had started looking for work a few weeks ago.

Hua Cheng could tell the moment it began. Not because Xie Lian said anything directly, but because his days took on a different rhythm. In the morning, he’d rise earlier and spend hours in front of his computer. In the early afternoon, he would pull on the neatest of his shirts and leave with a practiced smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

At first, he came back late in the afternoon, shoulders loose but tired. Then, he started evading Hua Cheng’s eyes. Today, he dropped onto the couch in silence, fingers pressing faint half-moons into his temples.

He never said the words “I didn’t get it” but he didn’t have to.

Hua Cheng hated it. The defeated slump in his spine each evening, the quiet way he avoided looking too long at his phone, as if to will away unread messages or unanswered applications. It chipped away at Hua Cheng like slow water through stone.

He wanted to help. But Xie Lian wouldn’t let him. So, he did what he could to cheer him up.

The first note he left was on the fridge, stuck with a magnet shaped like a cartoon radish. He spent way too long writing it. Started over three times. His pen stuttered on the angles, the lines slipped into diagonals. The final version was barely legible, but he stuck it up anyway.

He didn’t say anything about it.

The next morning, there was a tiny smile on Xie Lian’s face when he saw it, like a cloud parting for a second. He didn’t say anything either, but he didn’t throw the note out. That was enough.

So Hua Cheng started writing more.

Little things. Slipped into Xie Lian’s coat pocket. Folded into the space between the kettle and the tea tin. Tucked under his congee bowl, weighted down with a chopstick.

None of them said anything dramatic.

Just:

You’re not alone.

You’re doing your best, and that’s already enough.

Don’t let them make you feel small.

And sometimes, when the apartment was quiet and the city noise bled in faint and far, he let himself write what he really meant. Words he couldn’t imagine saying aloud, let alone to Xie Lian’s face.

You are the best part of my day.

When I hear the door, my heart always speeds up.

He knew Xie Lian couldn’t read them.

Hua Cheng had seen the way Xie Lian squinted at the first note, then tilted his head like he was deciphering ancient script. Once, he caught him turning a folded one over three times before just sighing and tucking it in his pocket, smiling anyway.

He knew that he couldn’t read them, but he also knew that Xie Lian tried to read them, kept them and carried them with him. It lit something up in Hua Cheng’s chest he didn’t know what to do with.

Late one evening, Xie Lian returned looking more tired than usual. He kicked his shoes off slowly, coat slung over one arm. Ruoye lifted his head from where he had escaped his terrarium and hissed softly, a greeting. Hua Cheng watched from the kitchen, the scent of ginger and rice lingering in the air.

Xie Lian looked around, eyes scanning quietly. When he saw the small folded square resting beside his bowl, he smiled.

That smile, quiet, private, like something shared between only them, made Hua Cheng’s heart trip over itself.

“You left another one,” Xie Lian said, voice warm with amusement. “I still can’t read them.”

“I know,” Hua Cheng said. “Doesn’t matter.”

Xie Lian picked up the note like it was something delicate and precious. He didn’t open it right away. Just held it in his palm.

“…Thank you,” he said, eyes soft.

They ate quietly after that, the hush between them easy, gentle. Hua Cheng didn’t ask how the job search went. Xie Lian didn’t offer.

It had been going on for a month when Hua Cheng started drawing.

He hadn’t planned it. It just… happened.

He was crouched at the table with a half-folded slip of paper in front of him, pen tapping lightly against the wood. The message had taken a ridiculous number of tries already – his handwriting always blurred toward the end, strokes crowding into each other like they were nervous. A constant war between what his hand wanted to write and what his mind saw so clearly.

He was about to crumple it when he paused.

At the bottom of the paper, in the narrow blank space, he added a tiny drawing. A chibi snake with round, bright eyes, coiled in a lazy spiral.

He stared at it for a moment, then folded the note and slipped it into Xie Lian’s coat pocket.

That evening, when Xie Lian returned and reached in, pulling the paper free, Hua Cheng watched from the kitchen doorway.

There was the usual squint. The familiar soft sigh. But then, Xie Lian tilted the note toward the window light, and his face lit up.

He laughed. “What is this?” he asked, turning toward the kitchen with a grin. “Did you draw Ruoye?”

Hua Cheng played it off, shrugging with studied casualness. “Thought you deserved some company while you were out.”

Xie Lian held the note like it was something rare and warm. “He looks very smug.”

“He is,” Hua Cheng muttered.

And the next day, he drew more.

A loosely sketched vending machine, one crooked button taped over, a little cartoon figure sitting cross-legged in front of it with their hands full of snacks – “Even the machine doesn’t get it right every time”.

A sketchy cat curled into a teacup – “Rest is allowed”.

It was cheesy. It was stupid. But Xie Lian liked them anyway.

When Xie Lian started to catch on that the doodles meant something – more than just idle sketches, more than just distractions – he began to treat each note like a little puzzle. He’d frown in concentration as he examined them, sometimes out loud, sometimes just to himself, piecing together guesses that rarely came close.

“This one’s a bunny wearing a hat. So that means… I should take a break and go outside?”
Hua Cheng, from the other room, bit back a smile.

Another day:

“It’s a cup of tea with a smiling face and… are those stars? Hmm… Something about sleeping well? Or maybe hydration?”

“Mm,” Hua Cheng replied, noncommittal. He didn’t correct him.

Sometimes, Hua Cheng would linger in the hallway or lean quietly against the kitchen doorframe, Ruoye loosely draped around his shoulders, just to see Xie Lian find the notes.

He never said anything. Just watched.

Watched as Xie Lian unfolded the crinkled paper like it was something fragile, something worth keeping. Watched the little furrow of his brow as he tried, with all the patience in the world, to make sense of Hua Cheng’s impossible handwriting, only to end up focusing on the doodle instead.

There’d always be that moment, that tiny flicker: his mouth twitching into a smile, eyes warming, body untensing in the soft way it did when something reached him on a level too quiet to name.

Maybe the notes didn’t say what Hua Cheng really wanted them to. Not in a way anyone else would understand. And maybe that was the point. No one else needed to.

It wasn’t about being understood.

It was about being there.

And Xie Lian always read them like they mattered, like they meant something, even if he couldn’t decipher a single word.

Eventually, he slipped.

Not in the physical sense, but in the way thoughts sometimes leaked out when you weren’t careful. Too tired, too full, too heartsick to notice the line between what you meant and what you actually put on the page.

It had been a long night. He couldn’t sleep. The apartment was quiet, except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional shifting of Ruoye in his tank. Hua Cheng sat hunched at the table, a blank note in front of him, pen tapping absently against the paper. He told himself he was just leaving something encouraging again – something small, something Xie Lian could find in the morning and smile at. Like always.

But when he looked down, he realized what he’d written.

Not encouragement. Not comfort.

Just: “I love you”.

The words stared back at him, raw and unhidden, like something torn from the center of his chest and laid flat on the table. He sat there for a long moment, hand frozen over the page, half a mind to rip it up and start again.

Instead, he reached for the corner of the paper and drew the first thing that came to mind – a frog, for some reason, awkwardly crouched over a steaming bowl of congee.

It would turn the message into nonsense. Something light, harmless.

The next day, he watched Xie Lian pull the note out from inside a cupboard. As expected, Xie Lian squinted at the handwriting, lips moving silently as he tried to make out the words. Then his eyes dropped to the frog.

“…Is it… eating congee?” he said aloud, brow furrowing. “What does this have to do with anything?”

He turned the note sideways, then upside down, trying to make sense of it. “Is it about breakfast? Did you want to go out today?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.

Hua Cheng, sitting cross-legged on the couch, shrugged as casually as he could. “Up to you.”

Xie Lian shook his head in quiet amusement. “Your drawings keep getting weirder.”

Hua Cheng said nothing. Just watched him fold the note with care and tuck it into the pocket of his coat.

And when Xie Lian wasn’t looking, Hua Cheng smiled. The words were still there. Just unread. Safe, for now.

But spoken all the same.

After that, it became a habit. A quiet indulgence. A secret kind of cruelty he couldn’t help but return to.

In between the usual notes – the ones with crooked encouragements or shaky reminders to drink water – Hua Cheng began slipping in more of them. The other kind. The ones he didn’t dare speak aloud. Notes that said things like “I don’t know how to be happy without you” or “I miss you even when you’re gone for a little while”, or simply: “I love you. Still. Always”.

But each time, he hid them under a layer of nonsense. A goose wearing a crown. A dumpling with tiny feet. A rabbit reclining on a fainting couch. A turtle with a sword strapped to its back.

He never explained.

Xie Lian, for his part, seemed to take the whole thing as some kind of ongoing puzzle. Each time he found one, he’d pause and stare at it with that furrow between his brows, lips pressing together in deep concentration as though the drawing held the key to deciphering the impossible handwriting beside it.

“…Okay,” he muttered once, examining a cartoon onion sobbing into a handkerchief next to a note that read ‘I wish I could find words to tell you everything you are to me’ in characters that bent like wilted grass. “This one is… dramatic. Are you saying dinner was too spicy?”

Hua Cheng bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He nodded gravely. “Exactly.”

Another time, it was a pigeon balancing a flowerpot on its head, drawn beside a particularly raw note that simply read: “You don’t know how much I love you and I don’t know how to survive that”.

Xie Lian held it up to the light, then brought it close to his face. “This one’s about… gardening?”

He kept writing. Slipping little pieces of himself into jacket pockets and book spines and the folds of Xie Lian’s scarf.

Even if the words were never understood, he told himself that it was enough. For now. Even if it was killing him a little. Even if it made him love harder still.

It was a quiet, nondescript afternoon, sunlight thick and golden through the windows, the air warm enough that Xie Lian had cracked one open. He had just returned from another round of job hunting, shoes barely off, when he paused in the doorway.

Hua Cheng was curled on the couch, phone in hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. The screen glowed faintly in his lap. His thumbs hovered, hesitated, moved, then backspaced everything he’d just typed.

Xie Lian blinked, recognizing the message bar. ‘Gege’ at the top of the screen. He’d sent a simple text while he was out, just checking in, and Hua Cheng had taken so long to respond that Xie Lian had assumed he’d gotten busy or missed it.

But now he saw the truth: Hua Cheng had been trying to answer. Was still trying.

His heart ached.

He crossed the room slowly, shedding his coat as he went, and knelt beside the couch. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said, voice soft.

Hua Cheng startled slightly. “Do what?”

“Push yourself like this. The typing. The notes.” Xie Lian leaned back on his hands, looking at him with quiet certainty. “You can just send voice messages. Or call. I’ll always answer.”

Hua Cheng looked down at the phone again, thumb hovering over the message bar. The text was half-written, a fragment of a thought, backspaced into near nothing. He let out a slow breath.

“…I won’t stop writing the notes,” he said after a beat. “I like them.”

Xie Lian’s mouth curved. “I like them too. Even if I can’t read them.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Hua Cheng muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I stopped trying to make them legible a long time ago.”

Xie Lian chuckled. “I figured.”

A pause.

“But okay,” Hua Cheng added. “If you’re sure it’s not a bother… I can do voice notes. Instead of texting.”

“I’m sure,” Xie Lian said, without hesitation. “It’s your voice. It could never be a bother.”

Hua Cheng blinked at him, a little thrown. Then he looked away, flustered, the corners of his mouth twitching upward despite himself.

“Okay,” he said again, quieter this time. “Then I will.”

And later that night, when Xie Lian went to bed, there was still a folded note on his pillow. This one had a doodle of a bunny wrapped in a blanket and nothing legible next to it – just a tangle of ink and half-formed characters, and one small heart hidden in the margin.

Xie Lian smiled anyway.

The days started to feel too quiet.

It wasn’t that Xie Lian didn’t talk – he did, still kind and gentle as ever – but the weight of things settled in the air like dust. It lingered in the silences between footsteps, in the way he paused before answering, in the way his shoulders curled inward a little more each time he came home empty-handed.

Hua Cheng saw it. Felt it like an ache behind his ribs.

The notes helped, sure. As did the drawings. They’d both fallen into the habit now: Hua Cheng slipping little scraps of affection into coat pockets and beneath tea mugs, and Xie Lian collecting them with quiet warmth. But it wasn’t enough. Not really.

Hua Cheng wanted to do something. Something real. But what could he offer?

He had no education, not even a middle school diploma, no work experience anyone would look at twice, and a criminal record that read like a warning label. He could lie, sure. Fake papers, fake name, run the usual schemes and slide into jobs that didn’t ask questions, or find easier ways to make some quick money. But every time he imagined that, all he could see was Xie Lian, carefully folding a job listing into his pocket and hoping for a future with both feet on solid ground.

It felt wrong. All of it. He didn’t want to drag back mud into the life Xie Lian was trying to build.

One afternoon, with the apartment empty and his thoughts refusing to quiet, Hua Cheng dug around the drawers and found a pen. Just a cheap ballpoint. He sat at the table with an old flyer and started sketching.

It had been a while since he drew anything – really drew, not just chibis or doodles. The lines came out shaky at first, too cautious, too tight. But then he stopped thinking about it and just… let it happen. The curve of a jaw, the fall of hair over a shoulder, a familiar shape he could draw from memory with his eyes closed.

Xie Lian. It was always him.

He sketched without looking up, page after page. Sometimes just a profile, sometimes a whole scene – Xie Lian holding Ruoye, or bent over the kitchen sink with a towel slung over one shoulder, or caught mid-laugh, head tilted back like sunlight.

It was stupid, probably. But it made something inside him go quiet for a little while.

It had maybe been a week since he’d started sketching again. Just in private. Just for himself. Hua Cheng didn’t think of it as anything more than a way to get his thoughts to shut up.

He was at the table again that afternoon, hunched over a flyer turned blank-side-up, the tip of his pen dragging lines across the cheap paper in slow, deliberate strokes. Xie Lian’s likeness was forming under his hand again – he couldn’t help it. No matter what he tried to sketch, it always circled back to him.

There was something about the way Xie Lian held himself even in stillness, something graceful and soft and strong all at once. Hua Cheng could draw every line of his face from memory. The way his eyes tilted at the corners, gentle even when he frowned. The slant of his shoulder when he was tired. The quiet curve of his mouth when he smiled, like he didn’t quite believe he was allowed to.

He didn’t hear the door open. Not until it was too late.

“…Is that me?”

Hua Cheng’s heart nearly stopped.

He whipped around so fast the pen dropped from his hand. His first instinct was to shield the drawing with his arm, but the damage was already done. Xie Lian was standing in the doorway, grocery bag hanging from one wrist, eyes wide and fixed on the paper in front of him.

Hua Cheng wanted the floor to open and swallow him whole.

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly, voice tight. “Just– just messing around.”

He felt like a wire pulled too taut. The drawing was too much. He knew it was too much. He hadn’t been thinking when he made it, and now it was sitting out in the open like a confession. Not just the face, no, that would’ve been fine. But the way he had drawn Xie Lian looking at something unseen, with that expression, like he was lit from within. Like he was precious.

Because that’s how Hua Cheng saw him. Always had.

And now Xie Lian was looking.

Hua Cheng tried again to cover it, but Xie Lian had already crossed the room and gently moved his hand aside. His touch was warm, light. Unafraid. And then he was staring down at the drawing with something unreadable in his eyes.

“San Lang,” he said, soft as breath. “This is incredible.”

Hua Cheng looked away. His chest was tight, his ears burning. “It’s really not,” he muttered. “I wasn’t even trying. It’s just practice.”

“It is.” There was something in Xie Lian’s voice that made Hua Cheng’s stomach twist. Not teasing. Not pity. Just… quiet certainty.

Why did he have to sound like that?

“Why didn’t you tell me you could draw like this?” Xie Lian asked.

Hua Cheng looked down, face hot. “It’s just for fun. It doesn’t matter.”

Xie Lian’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, grounding him. “Don’t say that. It does matter. You’re talented, San Lang. You should take this seriously.”

His breath caught. It wasn’t the compliment – Hua Cheng had survived people trying to flatter him for worse reasons. It was who said it, and how.

“I’m serious,” Xie Lian continued, warm and insistent. “Let’s go get you real materials. Pencils that don’t skip. Sketchbooks that aren’t takeout flyers. Canvases. Paints. You deserve better than this.”

“You don’t have to–” Hua Cheng tried to protest.

“I want to,” Xie Lian said, eyes bright. Then, almost teasing, “And it’s a good excuse to make you draw me more often.”

Hua Cheng made a strangled noise and dropped his face into his hands, mortified. “Gege…”

“You’re not going to stop now, are you?” Xie Lian asked, laughter in his voice.

“I should,” Hua Cheng muttered. “This is humiliating.”

“It’s flattering,” Xie Lian corrected gently. “No one’s ever drawn me like that.”

Hua Cheng’s heart skipped. Like that?

Hua Cheng peeked between his fingers, heart thudding against his ribs like it wanted out. Xie Lian was still looking at the sketch, gaze unreadable.

For a moment, Hua Cheng couldn’t breathe.

The drawing was too raw, too honest. He’d traced every shadow on that page with care, shaded the lines of Xie Lian’s face with a reverence he didn’t dare speak aloud. And now it was exposed. Right there between them.

He waited, for a breath, a word, anything. Some shift in Xie Lian’s voice or gaze that would mean he’d seen it. That he understood.

But after a beat too long, Xie Lian only said, with that same quiet warmth he always used, “We’ll go tomorrow. To buy you proper materials.”

That was all.

Hua Cheng blinked. “…Okay,” he said. His voice came out thinner than he meant it to.

He dropped his gaze to the table, fingers curling lightly around the edge of the paper. The sketch still sat there between them, obvious and glowing like a flare. Xie Lian had looked at it and not flinched. It had to be enough.

Of course Xie Lian hadn’t said anything. What could he have said?

He’d seen it, seen him, and chosen not to speak. Chosen kindness over confrontation.

He waited until Xie Lian turned away to hang up his coat before he moved again, slowly folding the paper over the sketch, pressing the edges down like he could hide the truth that had already been seen.

He was stupid. So stupid. He shouldn't have drawn him like that, shouldn't have let it bleed out so clearly.

He’d drawn love. And Xie Lian had seen it.

And said nothing.

Later that night, after the apartment had gone quiet, Hua Cheng lay on his back in the dark and stared at the ceiling. He pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes and breathed deep, slow.

It didn’t hurt like a cut. It hurt like waiting, like silence. Like something precious that had bloomed too early and died before the frost passed.

The sky had cracked open sometime in the late afternoon, and now the streets ran slick with rain. Not a heavy downpour, just a steady, miserable drizzle that made everything seem dimmer, greyer, worn down. Hua Cheng kept his hood up and head down, one hand clutching the bag of groceries pressed tight to his chest to keep the contents from getting wet. The other hand stayed in his pocket, balled in a fist.

Xie Lian had been smiling that morning when Hua Cheng had left, sleep-creased and blinking blearily from the couch where he’d fallen asleep in front of his computer. “We need more ginger,” he’d said. “And maybe eggs, if they’re on sale.”

So Hua Cheng had gone. Because he wanted to do something, anything, that made him feel even a little bit useful.

Walking back through the tight alleyway that cut between buildings like a scar, a sound pulled him up short.

It was barely louder than the rain. The tiniest rasp, half a breath, half a cry. He turned automatically toward the noise, eyes narrowing, scanning the mess of refuse piled near the back of a shuttered shop. For a moment, he saw nothing. Then a flicker of movement caught his eye.

A shape, small and dark, hunched in the corner.

A cat. Or something that had once been a cat.

It lay crumpled behind a broken plastic crate. Its fur, soaked with a mix of water and blood, clung to a body too thin to support itself. Its limbs were pulled in close, spine curled against the wall like it was trying to disappear. His right eye – gold, sharp, watching wearily – was open. The other socket was sunken, the skin around it black and crusted with dried blood. A faint wheeze escaped its mouth, like it had stopped crying some time ago and was now just remembering how.

Hua Cheng froze.

His grip on the grocery bag tightened, the plastic crinkling in his hand.

It was stupid to stop. The cat was obviously dying. Maybe already halfway there. This was a waste of time.

Still, his feet carried him closer. Slow, cautious, every instinct screaming that this was pointless.

The cat didn’t move. Not even when he crouched in front of it. It just blinked once, then seemed to give up again, laying its head back down on the cold, wet cement.

Hua Cheng stared at it. At the way it shook with every shallow breath. At the matted black fur. At the hollow where one eye should have been.

For a second, just one blink of time, it wasn’t a cat he was looking at. It was a child. Thin, wounded. Wild. Eyes burning with the kind of pain that made you dangerous just by surviving.

Someone had picked the child up, reaching out with warm, steady hands. Someone who now was probably waiting for Hua Cheng at home, sipping tea.

The cat let out a breathy sound, barely a mewl.

And Hua Cheng broke.

Carefully, like he might shatter something beyond repair, he set the groceries down beside him. The bag tipped over and rolled, but he didn’t care. He reached forward.

The cat let out a sound, not a mewl, not a cry, but a rasping warning. Its body tensed the moment Hua Cheng reached for it, fur bristling despite how soaked it was, and then it lashed out. Claws caught the back of his hand. Sharp, fast, deeper than expected.

Hua Cheng hissed in pain but didn’t pull away. Instead, he lowered himself more, one knee pressing into the wet pavement. The cat snapped its teeth, yowling now, one paw swiping again. It missed his wrist by a hair. Blood trickled down Hua Cheng’s knuckles, mixing with the rain.

“I’m trying to help you,” he said with a hiss, even though he knew the cat couldn’t understand.

The creature snarled, the pitiful sound cracking midway through.

It was fighting like it wanted to die angry. Like it’d been cornered too many times, kicked too many times, left behind too many times. Hua Cheng knew that kind of fury. Knew how it covered the fear underneath. He’d worn it once like a second skin.

Another swipe.

This time Hua Cheng caught the cat’s forelegs in his palms and wrapped his fingers around the fragile chest, firm but careful. It writhed violently, hissing through bared fangs, back legs kicking, claws snagging in his jacket. One sharp nail raked across his collarbone.

He flinched but didn’t let go.

“Stop,” he muttered, his voice harsher than he would have wanted.

The cat writhed a moment longer, exhausting what little strength it had left, before going suddenly limp. It wasn’t surrender, more like a collapse. The tension didn’t leave its body, not fully. One eye, gold and wide, stared up at him like it still didn’t trust him to hold it gently.

Hua Cheng gathered the cat close to his chest, cradling it like something fragile even as pain burned across his skin. His fingers, now slick with blood and rain, gripped tight, but not too tight.

“You’re a little bastard,” he murmured.

The creature didn’t argue, but it pressed its face against his jacket faintly, shivering, its breaths weak but still there.

Hua Cheng gathered it tighter against his chest and stood. He only vaguely remembered where the nearest vet was, but he ran anyway. The rain came down harder, soaking through his hood, dripping into his collar. His breath fogged in the cool air.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t look at the cat. Didn’t speak. Only ran.

When he finally pushed open the clinic door, the receptionist looked up in surprise. He must have looked like hell. Drenched through, carrying a near-dead animal in his arms, both of them bleeding.

“Emergency?” she asked, already standing.

He nodded.

A vet appeared from the back. She saw the cat and her mouth twisted in sympathy.

“Oh, poor guy,” she murmured, stepping forward. “You want him to get treated?”

When Hua Cheng nodded, she reached for the animal. He tightened his hold for just a moment, then slowly handed the cat over. The absence left a strange echo in his arms. Cold, wrong.

“You sure?” the vet said, one eyebrow raised. “Could be expensive. He might not even make it through the night.”

Hua Cheng looked her in the eyes. “Yes.” There was no hesitation in his voice.

The clinic was clean, quiet, and far too bright. The white walls made everything feel sterile, like it didn’t want to remember anything that happened inside.

Hua Cheng sat stiffly in a molded plastic chair by the reception desk, one wrist freshly bandaged, thin streaks of iodine still visible on his fingers. A nurse had insisted on cleaning his wounds before anything else. He hadn’t argued.

The cat had been rushed to the back almost immediately. They hadn’t asked many questions. Just a glance at the mangled leg, the raw wound where the eye should’ve been, and the tremble in its ribs – and they were gone, leaving Hua Cheng with an information sheet, a probable surgery estimate, and the buzzing in his ears.

He hadn’t let go of the pen long enough to sign the consent form properly. The nurse took it gently from his hand, filled it in for him, and just asked for his name. He gave it quietly.

Time passed, slow and uncertain. He sat curled slightly forward in the waiting room, arms folded, fingers picking at the loose edge of the wrap on his hand. There were old magazines, a plant wilting in the corner, the murmur of voices behind closed doors.

Then his phone buzzed. Xie Lian.

Hua Cheng stared at the screen for a second too long before answering.

“Gege?”

“San Lang? Where are you? Did something happen? You said you were on your way back, but it’s been an hour already…” His voice was laced with concern.

“I… Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m at the vet.”

A pause. “The vet?”

“I found a cat,” Hua Cheng said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He was injured. Badly. He lost an eye. I just… I don’t know.” He shrugged even if he knew that Xie Lian couldn’t see him.

Another pause.

Xie Lian’s voice softened. “So you brought him in?”

“…Yeah.”

“And stayed?”

“…Yeah.” Hua Cheng looked down at the clean bandage on his hand, then at the empty doorway where the cat had disappeared earlier. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think,” he admitted. “It’s going to be expensive. I shouldn’t have– I mean, with the bills, and the– I’ll find a job I promise–”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian interrupted gently. “You did the right thing.”

Hua Cheng didn’t answer.

A moment later, Xie Lian added, “Do you want me to come? I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“No!” Hua Cheng said too quickly, then winced. “I mean– no. It’s okay. I just… I’ll stay until they tell me how he is.”

“Alright,” Xie Lian said. “But send me a voice note when you’re heading back. Please.”

“Yeah, of course.”

They hung up.

Not long after, the vet stepped into the hallway, pulling down her mask. Her expression was steady but edged with fatigue.

“He made it through the first part,” she said. “But this won’t be easy.”

Hua Cheng stood, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. His fingers were trembling again, but not from pain.

“The leg’s salvageable. A lot of his ribs are broken,” she continued. “We cleaned the eye wound, stabilized his vitals. But infection is still a risk, and the pain will be significant. He’ll need antibiotics, monitoring. The recovery’s going to take time. And money.” She paused, then looked him straight in the eye. “We can continue with treatment, but you should know your options. If you’d prefer… we can put him down. Painlessly. It might be kinder.”

Hua Cheng’s jaw tensed. When he closed his eyes, he saw the cat’s remaining eye – wide and gold and furious, refusing to die quietly. The way it had trembled in his arms, even as it fought. The way it hadn’t given up.

“No,” he said. “Keep treating him. I’ll pay.”

The vet tilted her head slightly, assessing him. “Is he yours?”

“No,” Hua Cheng said after a beat. “I found him. In the street.”

“Not chipped, no collar. And in that state… he was likely abandoned,” she said. “Do you plan on adopting him?”

“No,” Hua Cheng said again, quieter this time. He rubbed a thumb along the hem of his sleeve. “I can’t. I just– I couldn’t leave him like that.”

The vet gave a small sigh, not unkind. “Our secretary can give you the names of some shelters, but I won’t lie to you. In his condition, feral and recovering from surgery? His chances aren’t great. Most shelters are overrun, and they’ll prioritize easier cases.”

The guilt hit like a stone in the chest. Hua Cheng didn’t answer.

“We can handle the placement,” she offered gently. “Once he’s healed. We’d make sure he goes to someone who knows how to care for a case like this. Or, if you want to take on finding a place yourself…”

“I’ll do it,” Hua Cheng said. The words were immediate, even as his stomach turned. “I’ll find a place.”

The vet studied him again, then nodded. “Alright. He’ll need at least two weeks here. You can come back then. Or call us anytime if you want an update.”

She gave him a receipt and a business card and turned back down the hall.

He stepped outside a little while later into the chill of late afternoon, his jacket tugged over his shoulders, the estimate for the surgery fee burning a hole in his pocket.

He felt dazed, so he focused on what he had to do. He needed a job. Urgently. Before the cat was discharged.

It would be easy to go back to the old ways. But if Xie Lian could work toward something better, so could he. He just had to find out how.

Hua Cheng stepped into the apartment quietly, his hoodie still dusted with the cold of late afternoon. The grocery bags rustled as he set them down – he had gone back to the store after he’d abandoned the first ones.

Before he could turn toward the kitchen, Xie Lian appeared from the hallway. “You’re back,” he said gently. “How is he?”

Hua Cheng hesitated, pulling off his hood. “Alive. Sleeping, I think. The vet said it’ll take a while, but he should recover.”

Xie Lian’s expression softened with relief. “That’s good. Really good.”

He walked over, reaching to help unpack the bags, fingers brushing against Hua Cheng’s for the briefest moment. “And… after that? What’s the plan?”

Hua Cheng didn’t meet his gaze. “Shelter. Once he’s healed.”

Xie Lian froze with a can of beans in his hand. “Oh.” There was a pause. “…You know, we could keep him,” he said, voice light but hopeful. “He might do well here. Quiet place. Familiar face. You’ve already done so much for him.”

“No,” Hua Cheng said too fast. “He’s… he’s feral. Aggressive. Bit me the moment I touched him. Scratched straight through my coat. He’s dangerous.”

Xie Lian looked at him, unconvinced. “He’s not dangerous,” he said. “Just scared.”

Hua Cheng's jaw flexed. “He’s missing an eye. Covered in scars. He looks–”

“He looks like someone who survived something awful,” Xie Lian interrupted softly. “That doesn’t make him ugly.”

That stopped Hua Cheng cold.

He turned away slightly, pretending to rearrange a sack of rice. “We can’t afford it anyway,” he muttered. “He’ll need more food than Ruoye, and we don’t have anything for him – no litter, no toys, no space. And the vet bill’s already…” His voice trailed off.

Xie Lian said nothing for a moment. Then he gave a small nod, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re right. It’s true.” He turned back to the groceries, quieter now. Slower.

Hua Cheng felt the guilt twist in his chest like a blade.

He hadn’t meant to disappoint him. But seeing that quiet pull in Xie Lian’s expression – the softness dimmed, the hope folded away – it felt like he’d failed him anyway.

He stood still for a long moment, watching Xie Lian put away a bag of noodles in silence.

“…He would be happy in a shelter,” Hua Cheng said, not believing the words himself. “I’ll find a good one.”

Xie Lian didn’t look up, but he nodded again.

That night, Hua Cheng couldn’t sleep. Not because of the money, or the stress.

But because when he closed his eyes, he saw a cat with one eye and a stitched-up leg, and Xie Lian standing beside him, quietly trying not to hope.

The next morning, the apartment was quiet. Xie Lian had already gone out – another job lead, another long-shot interview. The kettle whistled on the stove, steam curling in the cold air like breath. Hua Cheng poured a cup of tea and sat down at the table, staring at the blank canvas propped against the wall.

He’d woken early, unable to sleep. There was a dull ache in his arms from the night before. The smell of antiseptic still clung faintly to his sleeves. He sat alone at the table, cold mug in hand, staring at the beat-up sketchbook in front of him. Pages of soft graphite smudges, all of Xie Lian. In the kitchen, curled on the couch, brushing Ruoye’s tank clean with half-lidded eyes.

It felt indulgent to look at them now. Pointless, too.

Still, he flipped to a fresh page. And then he hesitated.

They didn’t have the money for sentiment. The vet bills were already going to eat through the emergency savings they didn’t really have. What was he doing drawing?

He should be looking for a job, not that he had any luck with that. But what else did he have?

He glanced over at the tablet, still tucked away in the drawer Xie Lian had carefully designated for “art stuff”.

He hadn’t touched it much. Xie Lian had bought it for him a few weeks back, smiling so brightly as he handed it over like it wasn’t too expensive, like it wasn’t a ridiculous luxury they couldn’t afford. Hua Cheng had protested. Loudly. But Xie Lian had waved him off with that maddening, steady warmth – “You don’t need a reason to deserve nice things.” Hua Cheng hadn’t dared believe it then, and that drawer had remained mostly closed since.

His tea had gone cold.

On impulse, he pulled the tablet from its drawer.

A few hours later, he was hunched over it, not quite sure when he’d started. First, a quick digital sketch – a bird in flight, then a hand reaching out of water, then a faceless figure curled on a rooftop. He wasn’t even trying to make them perfect. Just trying to make. After that, he went around the apartment collecting every drawing he’d hidden, flipping through his sketchbook, lifting canvas stacked in the corner. That’s when he realized just how much he had drawn in these past few weeks. He had told himself he would stop portraying Xie Lian. He hadn’t.

He photographed what he could – anything that didn’t show too much. Anything where he could crop out Xie Lian’s face.

He opened a simple page. Then, after several failed attempts at writing a decent caption and agonizing over whether to click “Post,” Hua Cheng finally uploaded his work on a newly made commission page. He offered two types: digital work, or traditional paintings on canvas, and said that he’d draw anything. He priced them low. Too low, probably. But it’s not like anyone would pay for it anyway.

He shut the tablet after that and walked away immediately, telling himself it was a waste of time.

What kind of idiot tried to be an artist when they had debts looming over their heads? It was pathetic. He should’ve been out pounding pavement, not clinging to a half-dead skill and pretending it mattered.

But he left the post up. Even if no one saw it. Even if it failed. There was nothing left to lose.

He didn’t talk to Xie Lian about it. Couldn’t. The idea of saying “I opened commissions” out loud made his stomach twist. If it went nowhere, Xie Lian would pretend to be proud anyway. Would say kind things he didn’t mean. And that would be worse.

So Hua Cheng kept it to himself.

He didn’t check it for the next few days.

It was only after half a week had passed that he cracked the tablet open again, telling himself he was just going to delete the post. End the experiment before it embarrassed him further.

But there it was. A notification. Then another.

Three messages. All real. All from strangers. One asked for a pet portrait. One wanted a realistic painting of a D&D character. The third a drawing of his fursona.

Hua Cheng stared at the screen in disbelief.

He stayed up late that night sketching thumbnails for the first order, tablet balanced on one knee, brush strokes loose and certain.

He didn’t move at first.

The messages sat there, glowing softly in the dim light of the apartment, too normal-looking to feel real. His first instinct was that it had to be spam. Or a joke. Or some mistake. But no, he clicked through, breath shallow, fingers clumsy, and they were real.

Hello! Your art is gorgeous. Do you do cats? Mine just passed, and I’d love something to remember her by.

Would you be open to doing a portrait of my D&D character? I can send references!

Hi, I love your linework. Would you be ok drawing a fursona? I can pay upfront.

All polite. All sincere. All written like it was obvious, like he deserved this. Like it was nothing strange at all to want to give him money for something he made with his hands.

Hua Cheng sat back on the couch, stunned.

He didn’t respond right away. Just held the tablet like it might vanish if he blinked too hard. Something in his chest twisted, sharp and aching. Not joy. Not exactly. But something close. A tentative uncoiling. The smallest loosening of that knot that had lived in his stomach for months.

He should tell Xie Lian. He didn’t.

Instead, he responded to the messages one by one, trying not to sound too eager. He kept it simple. Direct. Agreed to the work. Sent over the payment information. Then, only then, let himself breathe.

The pet portrait came first. A soft orange tabby with frayed ears and a look of regal exhaustion in its posture. He spent longer on it than he should’ve, obsessing over the curve of its back, the dapple of light on the fur. When he sent it off, the response came quickly:

This is perfect. She always sat like that. Thank you so much.

The D&D character came next. Then the fursona, a bright-eyed red fox in a bomber jacket.

And with each one, a few more messages trickled in. It wasn’t a windfall. But the money was real. Small deposits pinging into his account. Enough to matter. He couldn’t believe it.

He still didn’t tell Xie Lian right away. Didn’t know how. The words were hard to hold in his mouth. ‘I did something. I tried.’ What if it still fell apart? What if this little miracle just… stopped?

But in the quiet moments, when Xie Lian was reading, or humming as he dried his hair after a shower, or gently refilling Ruoye’s water bowl, Hua Cheng watched him and thought:

Maybe this is how it starts again. Not with something huge. But with this.

Two weeks later, the sun hung low in the sky, soft and gold, as they walked side by side toward the clinic. Xie Lian was quiet, with his hands in his pockets, casting the occasional glance Hua Cheng’s way.

Hua Cheng had tried not to make a big deal out of it. Tried.

But his chest had felt tight all morning, like something was wound up inside him with nowhere to go. He hadn’t told Xie Lian what he was planning. Not until last night, when he’d said, too casually, that he’d be picking up the cat from the clinic tomorrow. That they were taking him to a shelter.

Xie Lian had paused, then simply said: “I’d like to come.”

And now they were here.

The clinic’s sign creaked softly in the breeze. Inside, the same clean antiseptic smell hit him immediately. Hua Cheng stepped up to the counter and gave his name. The receptionist smiled in recognition.

“Oh, yes, the black cat. One eye, huge attitude?” She chuckled, pulling up the files. “He’s ready to go. We’ve got a carrier you can borrow if you didn’t bring one.”

“We didn’t,” Hua Cheng said.

“I’ll go get him,” she said, rising. “Wait here. And watch your fingers when I bring him out.”

As she disappeared down the hallway, Xie Lian looked around, taking in the soft chairs, the posters, the rack of animal magazines.

The receptionist came back with a sturdy plastic carrier cradled in her arms, wrapped with a towel at the bottom. Inside, the cat glared out with his one eye, ears flattened, tail flicking in warning. He was still skinny, still rough, still half-bandaged.

Xie Lian crouched to get a closer look. “Oh,” he breathed.

The cat growled faintly.

“He’s…” Xie Lian tilted his head, “beautiful.”

Hua Cheng blinked. “What?”

Xie Lian looked up at him. “He is. Just look at him. He looks like he fought off ten other lives to keep this one.”

The cat hissed, as if to confirm it.

The receptionist gently slid the carrier onto the counter. “Before you go, we just need to double-check some things. You're still planning to bring him to a shelter?”

Hua Cheng opened his mouth. Stopped. He glanced down at the carrier, then at Xie Lian who was still crouched beside the cat, eyes soft, smile barely there.

“No,” Hua Cheng said quietly. “We’re keeping him.”

Xie Lian looked up sharply. “We are?”

“If… if you’re okay with that.”

Xie Lian lit up, warmth pouring into his face like morning sunlight. “Yes! Yes, of course I am!”

The receptionist blinked, surprised but smiling. “Alright, then. Let’s get the paperwork started. You’ll need to sign some adoption forms.”

As she fetched the necessary papers, Hua Cheng turned slightly toward Xie Lian. “I’ve been making a little money. With art commissions. I wasn’t sure it would last, but… it’s been going okay.”

Xie Lian stared at him with wide eyes and a beaming smile. “What? San Lang, that’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to jinx it.”

Xie Lian’s expression shifted slightly. Less overjoyed and more pride in it. “Your art is beautiful. I’m so glad people are recognizing it.”

Hua Cheng ducked his head, ears burning, the tips going hot as he looked anywhere but at Xie Lian’s face. “It’s not… it’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me,” Xie Lian said simply. His voice was warm, sincere. “And clearly to other people, too. I'm proud of you.”

Before Hua Cheng could come up with a response that wasn’t embarrassing, the receptionist returned, a clipboard in hand and a thick packet of forms clipped to it. “Here we go. If you’re sure, we’ll need you to fill these out. You’re officially adopting him, so some of it is legal stuff. Vaccinations, proof of ownership, post-op care. And of course,” she smiled, flipping to the second page, “his name.”

Hua Cheng hesitantly reached out for the clipboard, but Xie Lian was already taking it from her, eyes scanning the pages quickly. “I’ll fill it out,” he said gently. “But you’re picking the name.”

Hua Cheng’s mouth opened and closed once. Then, softly, he said: “E-Ming. Like in adversity and life.”

Xie Lian looked up, the pen poised over the line. “That’s what you want?”

Hua Cheng nodded.

Xie Lian smiled, then wrote it down in neat, careful handwriting. When he was done, he turned the clipboard and held the pen out toward Hua Cheng. “You just have to sign.”

Hua Cheng took the pen with a quiet breath. His grip was tight, fingers stiff. He kept his eyes on the space where his name was supposed to go, like if he looked up, it would all disappear. He wrote slowly. Carefully. The strokes weren’t clean, and they wobbled where his hand jerked slightly at the end, but it was legible. Somewhat.

The receptionist took the papers and checked them over with a smile. “Alright. Congratulations, E-Ming’s officially yours. We’ll get you a loaner carrier and a post-op care sheet.”

By the time they left the clinic, E-Ming was growling in the back of the box, huddled into a towel and clearly plotting the death of everyone present. But Xie Lian was beaming, his steps lighter than they’d been in weeks. Hua Cheng kept glancing at the carrier like it might vanish if he looked away.

“Do you want to go straight home?” Xie Lian asked as they reached the sidewalk.

Hua Cheng looked down at the thin handles of the plastic box in his grip, then at the long, bony cat inside who looked like he could shatter a world with a sneeze. “…We should get him stuff.”

They took the long way to the nearest pet store. Inside, they stocked up on basics: food, litter, bowls, the cheapest scratching post they could find. Xie Lian picked out a few toys, including a small stuffed bat with crinkly wings that made Hua Cheng stare in silent horror.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” Xie Lian asked innocently.

Hua Cheng stared some more before saying, “Don’t cats always prefer to play with trash?”

“But it’s cute!” Xie Lian retorted.

Not it’s not. “He’ll survive without it.”

Xie Lian shook his head. “He deserves some nice toys.”

“He tried to bite my face,” Hua Cheng argued.

“I think that means he likes you.”

Hua Cheng sighed and reluctantly held the cart to Xie Lian. “…Fine.”

The cashier raised an eyebrow as they carried the mountain of supplies to the register with a hissing box between them, but neither of them said anything.

The walk back was quiet, except for E-Ming’s occasional snarls.

Once they made it home, Hua Cheng set the carrier down gently by the low table and knelt. Xie Lian crouched beside him, expression soft as he opened the door.

E-Ming didn’t come out right away. He sat in the back, eye narrowed, tail curled tightly around him like a shield.

Xie Lian leaned forward slightly, voice low. “Welcome home, E-Ming.”

And for a moment, the cat simply looked at them both, wary and tired and silent.

Then, slowly, he stepped out onto the floor.

Chapter Text

The adjustment was slow at first.

E-Ming spent the first two days hiding under the couch. He only came out at night, when the apartment was quiet and dark, slinking from room to room like a shadow with teeth. Hua Cheng would sometimes wake in the early hours to the sound of dry food crunching, or the soft scrape of claws against cardboard. But whenever either of them tried to approach, E-Ming disappeared back under the furniture like a ghost.

By day four, he began to emerge in short, grumpy intervals. Only for food, only when it was Xie Lian who filled the bowl.

He’d made his choice, apparently.

“Traitor,” Hua Cheng muttered one morning as E-Ming brushed right past his leg without even a glance, just to wind around Xie Lian’s ankles and meow like he hadn’t eaten in months.

Xie Lian, who was crouching with the food dish, just smiled. “He’s still getting used to you.”

“He bit me yesterday.”

“It was a warning bite.”

“There was blood.”

Xie Lian cooed at E-Ming like he hadn’t heard a word. “Such a brave boy. You’re doing so well.”

Hua Cheng stood in the kitchen, watching as E-Ming allowed himself to be picked up – still stiff, still bristly, but not biting – and cradled against Xie Lian’s chest.

The unfair part, Hua Cheng thought, wasn’t that E-Ming had picked favorites. It was that he had picked so obviously.

Xie Lian did the soothing. Hua Cheng did the stabbing. Or that’s what it looked like from the cat’s perspective anyway. The antibiotics, the daily wound cleaning, the occasional vet follow-ups – all necessary, all hated.

“I’m the one keeping you alive,” Hua Cheng pointed out one evening as he carefully pulled E-Ming out of his little hiding nook for his meds. The cat spat and growled but didn’t scratch. Maybe because he finally understood Hua Cheng was trying to help. Probably because he was saving it for later.

Xie Lian, sitting nearby with a towel and treats, laughed under his breath.

Still, the bruises on Hua Cheng’s hands healed. The growls turned to grumbles. By the second week, E-Ming had started sleeping in the living room instead of under things, curled into a lumpy loaf on the corner of the couch. Xie Lian’s side of the couch. If Hua Cheng sat too close, the cat would glare until he moved. Sometimes he even sighed.

Once, just once, Hua Cheng woke up in the middle of the night to find E-Ming asleep on his chest. He didn’t dare move. The cat was gone the moment he twitched, leaping off like it hadn’t happened at all.

He still smugly told Xie Lian about it the next morning.

The apartment shifted around the new presence: bowls on the floor, a mat under the litter box, a few loose tufts of black fur that floated along the baseboards. E-Ming patrolled the windowsills with one good eye and took afternoon naps in sunbeams like he was recovering from war.

One quiet afternoon, Xie Lian found Hua Cheng sketching in the corner with E-Ming curled on the floor nearby, just within reach of his outstretched foot. Not touching. But close.

“He likes you,” Xie Lian said softly. “He knows who brought him home.”

Ruoye and E-Ming’s relationship began with violence. Or at least, the intent of violence.

The first few days after E-Ming’s arrival, Ruoye had stayed tucked safely inside his enclosure, his movements minimal – a single flicker of tongue now and then, eyes half-lidded, patient. Watching. Waiting.

E-Ming noticed.

At first, it was just glances. A twitch of the tail every time he passed the tank. Then, one morning, he crept up onto the low shelf, peered through the glass, and flattened his ears. His tail began to lash.

When Xie Lian opened the tank to feed Ruoye, E-Ming tried to lunge for him.

It wasn’t a subtle attempt. It was a full, furious swipe, claws out, teeth bared, his entire body coiled like a spring as if he could take the damn snake down in one go.

Xie Lian yelped. “E-Ming, no!”

He lunged forward instinctively, hand halfway to intercepting the cat even as he knew he was too slow, that he couldn't reach in time, that there were claws and scales and sharp things involved and this could go very badly–

But E-Ming didn’t get close.

Ruoye moved like smoke. One second, he was lazily draped along a branch. The next, he struck. Not at E-Ming, but beside him, fast enough to cut air. The sound alone made E-Ming recoil. Then, Ruoye rose, uncoiling with impossible grace, his body unfurling up and up until his head was level with E-Ming’s and then higher.

His tongue flicked. His eyes didn’t blink. And most importantly, he didn’t move back.

E-Ming’s fur puffed out like a terrified squirrel. He stared up at the snake, growled once, then jumped off the shelf and fled under the table.

Xie Lian was still frozen, arms out. He slowly lowered them, heart pounding. “...Okay,” he said aloud, mostly to himself. “Maybe we’ll take it slower.”

From that point on, things shifted.

E-Ming still stared at Ruoye sometimes – narrowed eyes, low rumbling in his throat – but he never tried to get close again. In fact, he gave the enclosure a full berth when walking past, his tail high and defiant as if to say I’m not scared, I just don’t care.

Ruoye didn’t gloat. He didn’t even seem interested. He resumed his usual routine of sleeping, basking, and occasionally dragging a sock out of the laundry basket when bored.

But every so often, when E-Ming was distracted or yawning, Ruoye would watch him. Unblinking. Silent.

It was hard to say what passed between them. Maybe E-Ming came to respect him. Or maybe he just learned, very quickly, that Ruoye was not food, and absolutely not prey.

Still, the tension never quite vanished. If Ruoye slithered onto the coffee table, E-Ming would leap onto the bookshelf in protest. If E-Ming claimed the couch first, Ruoye would curl neatly around the base and flick his tongue pointedly whenever a tail dangled too low.

It seemed that since E-Ming started to mark the appartement as his territory, Ruoye would escape from his tank even more frequently than before, trying to win the place back.

Hua Cheng called it a cold war. Xie Lian called it a “bond.”

E-Ming avoided the couch when Ruoye was on it. Ruoye, being part noodle and part troll, did not return the courtesy. Several times Hua Cheng walked in to find E-Ming perched high on the bookshelf, glaring down at the snake who had somehow looped himself into the cat bed.

“Should we buy a second bed?” Hua Cheng asked, deadpan.

“He’s being friendly,” Xie Lian insisted, gently relocating Ruoye with two fingers. “He just wants to be close.”

“To the cat who wants to murder him?”

“I think they’re working through it.”

But by the end of the week, a shift happened.

It wasn’t peace. Not exactly. But one afternoon, Hua Cheng glanced up from his sketchpad and caught the cat and the snake sharing a sunspot. Not touching. Not even looking at each other. But there they were, E-Ming curled like a burnt croissant and Ruoye lying in a half-circle beside him, head resting on the curve of his own body.

Neither of them moved when Hua Cheng walked past. Not even when he took a photo.

The rain started mid-afternoon. A light pattering that quickly escalated into a full storm, thunder rolling in slow, bone-deep waves that made the windows rattle.

Hua Cheng told himself he wasn’t worried. He was just… done with errands. And the rain sucked. And he didn’t feel like lingering outside when it felt like the whole sky was about to drop on his head. That was all.

It had nothing to do with the cat. That absolutely wasn’t why he was running back to the appartement.

E-Ming hated storms. Hua Cheng had found out the hard way the week before, when a surprise thunderclap had sent the cat bolting across the room like a demon was chasing him. He’d yowled, knocked over a lamp, and then crammed himself under the couch, where he’d remained – growling and wide-eyed – for the next two hours.

So when the first thunderclap hit, loud and low, Hua Cheng’s stomach dropped. He picked up his pace.

By the time he reached the apartment, his shoulders were soaked through and his shoes squelched. He wrestled with the key for half a second longer than usual, then shoved the door open, bracing for chaos.

But the flat was quiet.

Not silent – the rain still tapped hard against the windows, and thunder groaned somewhere in the distance – but nothing was broken. Nothing knocked over. No yowling or streaks of black fur fleeing for cover.

Hua Cheng toed off his wet shoes carefully, heart still tight in his chest. He padded further in.

It wasn’t until he reached the living room that he heard the faint, soft sound. Not crying exactly, but a low, rhythmic huff. Like small, uneven breaths trying not to be heard.

He turned the corner and stopped.

E-Ming was curled up tightly in his bed, pressed into the farthest corner, ears flat and body tense. His one eye was open, staring blankly ahead. But what made Hua Cheng blink wasn’t the cat. It was the yellowish white coil wrapped gently around him. Ruoye.

The snake had somehow escaped his tank again. But this time, instead of going for socks or snacks or his usual weird hobbies, he’d slithered into E-Ming’s bed and coiled around him like a blanket. His long body looped once around the cat’s middle, his head resting on E-Ming’s back. Every so often, he reached out with the tip of his tail to nudge the top of E-Ming’s head, slow and soothing. Like a pat. Or a rub.

E-Ming didn’t flinch. He didn’t growl or hiss or run. He just stayed curled, eyes slowly blinking, his claws kneading slightly into the soft blanket under him. His breathing was still too fast, but steadier now. Quieter.

And somehow, Ruoye was helping.

Hua Cheng stood in the doorway, dripping onto the hardwood, and didn’t move.

“…Okay,” he muttered eventually, under his breath. “Sure. Why not.”

He stepped back slowly, careful not to startle them, and went to get a towel. He didn’t bother trying to put Ruoye back in the tank.

Apparently, he was busy.

The apartment had been silent for too long to be normal.

Hua Cheng was coming out of the bathroom when he noticed it: the kind of quiet that made your ears itch. No claws scrabbling on tile, no faint grumble from under the couch, no rustle of movement from the living-room where E-Ming usually stalked Ruoye’s tank with all the subtlety of a thunder god.

He stood still for a beat.

Then, casually at first, he walked through the apartment. Called once. No answer. Looked under the table. Behind the bookshelf. Under the bed.

Still nothing.

The casualness left his step.

He opened every door, checked every blanket pile and tucked-away corner. Ruoye blinked at him from inside his tank, coiled tight but calm.

“Where the fuck are you,” Hua Cheng muttered under his breath, lifting a laundry basket. He was already grabbing for his phone when he heard the front door open.

Xie Lian walked in with a paper bag in one hand, blinking. “San Lang?”

“He’s gone,” Hua Cheng said without preamble.

Xie Lian blinked again. “Who’s– wait. E-Ming?”

“I’ve checked everywhere. He’s not here.”

Xie Lian set the bag down slowly, brows furrowing. “Maybe he squeezed behind the fridge again?”

“I looked. He’s not in the apartment.” Hua Cheng’s voice was flat, too steady. Like it was trying very hard not to shake.

He pointed toward the cracked hallway window. “It wasn’t latched.”

That was all it took. They left the apartment in less than a minute.

They split up, scouring the neighborhood like bloodhounds. Xie Lian took the side streets and park paths; Hua Cheng stalked down the main roads, checking under benches and peeking into alleys, crouching to shine his phone light beneath cars. He asked strangers. Described E-Ming over and over like it might help anchor the panic clawing at his throat.

“One eye. Black fur. He’s skinny. Sort of… angry looking. Have you seen him?”

Most people shook their heads. A few tried to help. A man pointed vaguely down an alley, but there was nothing there but a trash can and a wet cardboard box.

Time kept stretching. Hua Cheng kept running.

With each block, the fear sharpened into something solid and cold. He tried not to imagine it: E-Ming hit by a car, cornered by a dog, trapped somewhere bleeding and alone. But the images came anyway. Unstoppable.

He didn’t even know what had happened to E-Ming before he found him that first time. Just that whatever it was, it had been bad enough to leave him torn and half-feral, too tired to run but too angry to be touched.

And now he was alone, left to fend for himself again.

A familiar, breathless weight pressed against Hua Cheng’s ribs. The guilt came fast and mean. You should’ve locked the window. You should’ve checked earlier. You let him out. You let him out.

His phone buzzed. Unknown Number.

He nearly didn’t pick up – almost fumbled it in his hand – but something in his gut told him to answer.

“Hello?”

“Uh… Hi, sorry. I think we found your cat?”

Hua Cheng nearly choked. “Where?!”

“A small boutique on Yanxing Street. He walked in, curled up in a pile of scarves, and scared the hell out of my daughter. She thought he was a demon.”

“Close enough,” Hua Cheng muttered, already turning on his heel. “I’m on my way.”

By the time he got to the store – a narrow, softly lit place tucked between a bubble tea stand and a nail salon – his hair was damp from sweat and mist, his boots scuffed from running. He shoved open the door hard enough to jingle every bell on the rack.

A woman behind the counter startled. “You must be the cat guy.”

“Where is he?”

She pointed toward the back.

Hua Cheng moved fast.

Past the racks of embroidered jackets and folded sweaters. Past a mannequin in a ridiculous floppy hat. Near the fitting rooms, tucked in a wide wicker basket lined with scarves and a pink cardigan, lay E-Ming.

Dusty, glaring, and somehow regal despite the fact that he was sitting on knitwear like a tiny villainous emperor.

He turned his head lazily as Hua Cheng approached, blinking his one eye with the particular judgment of someone who’d just been disturbed from a nap.

“Unbelievable,” Hua Cheng whispered. His knees hit the floor beside the basket. “Do you have any idea–” But his voice cracked, just barely.

He reached out, and E-Ming – miracle of miracles – didn’t pull away. Instead, he stretched his neck forward and bumped his head gently into Hua Cheng’s hand, letting out a faint, grumbly purr. Like Yeah, alright. I got bored. You’re late.

“You little shit,” Hua Cheng said, voice thick, and pressed his face briefly into the cat’s neck. “I thought you were dead.”

E-Ming yawned.

Now that Hua Cheng had E-Ming safely in his arms, the tension in his chest vanished. The panic dissolved into something slower. He stepped outside the boutique with the cat curled tightly against his jacket and called Xie Lian.

The moment his voice came through, breathless and worried, Hua Cheng said, “I found him.”

There was a pause. Then: “Thank the heavens. Where?”

“Clothing shop. Yanxing Street. Near that cursed bubble tea stand.”

“Wait for me. I’m coming now,” Xie Lian said.

Hua Cheng looked down at E-Ming, who was grooming his paw like he hadn’t just put five years on his lifespan. “Okay.”

After hanging up, he glanced back at the boutique behind him. The owner, still near the front, waved him in with a knowing smile. “You can stay as long as you want. Poor guy looked like he needed a nap.”

Hua Cheng hesitated, then nodded and stepped back inside. The quiet of the shop wrapped around him like something padded. E-Ming blinked once and settled deeper in his arms.

With nothing else to do while waiting, Hua Cheng wandered slowly between the racks.

The shop was small, clearly personal. Not the glossy, high-end kind but warm, lived-in. A little chaotic. Handmade signs, mismatched hangers, fabric tags scribbled in neat marker. Someone’s pride lived here.

He wanted to thank them somehow. For not just calling, but for treating E-Ming like more than a stray. For being kind. So, he started to look at the shelves like a customer.

Then he realized the shop mostly sold feminine clothes. Flowy skirts. Cropped cardigans. Bright nail polish lined in a rainbow on the checkout counter, earrings hooked on a little corkboard shaped like a sun.

Hua Cheng stood there for a minute too long, unsure what he was even looking at. Then, determined not to make it weird, he picked up the nearest ring. Silver with a red stone in the center. It wasn’t expensive, but something about it caught his eye. He grabbed it. Easy.

Then his gaze caught on a display rack near the fitting room. Long skirts, hung by color. Deep earth tones, soft washed pastels, some with embroidery around the hem. One of them was black with faint red thread stitched in spirals near the edge, like falling petals. It was quiet, but striking. It looked… cool. Not that he’d wear it. Obviously.

Still, he reached out and ran his fingers along the fabric.

Soft. A little heavy. The kind of thing that would sway when you walked. Slowly, he pulled it off the hanger and held it up. Just to look. Just curiosity.

It didn’t feel wrong in his hands. If anything, it felt–

He stopped that thought in its tracks. Shook his head, folded the skirt awkwardly over his arm like it was something fragile, and moved toward the counter.

By the time he made it there, he had an armful: two rings, some black and red nail polish and eyeshadow, a silver necklace with a small butterfly pendant, and the soft black skirt.

He told himself it was just to thank them. Something useful. Something generous.

The woman behind the counter smiled, ringing it all up. “Shopping for someone?”

“Sort of,” he said. He didn’t meet her eyes. “Just… thanks. For earlier.”

“Well,” she said gently, bagging the items, “you’ve got a good eye.”

He ducked his head, cheeks prickling.

As he waited, he caught his reflection in the mirror behind the jewelry rack. His wind-damp hair stuck up in odd angles. E-Ming was still nestled against his chest, tail twitching in disapproval of the paper bag crinkling beside him.

The necklace sat on top, gleaming faintly. Hua Cheng didn’t quite know what he felt, looking at it. He told himself again that he wouldn’t wear it. That it wasn’t for him. That none of it was. But still. He bought it.

Xie Lian came through the front door a moment later. When he saw them, his whole body relaxed. “San Lang?”

“In here,” Hua Cheng called, raising E-Ming from where he was still nestled on his chest so Xie Lian could see him. “He was trying to redecorate.”

Xie Lian reached them and let out a quiet, unsteady laugh. “He scared the life out of me.”

Hua Cheng tucked back E-Ming against his chest. “Next time he pulls this, I’m bolting the windows and putting a motion detector on his ass.”

“Can’t wait to see how long that lasts.”

They both looked down at E-Ming, who blinked slowly, smug and entirely unrepentant.

Hua Cheng sighed. “Home?”

“Home,” Xie Lian said.

As they stepped outside, Xie Lian glanced at the red paper bag crinkling under Hua Cheng’s arm. “What’s that?”

Hua Cheng paused. “Just… something I picked up. To thank the owners for keeping an eye on him.”

“Oh.” Xie Lian smiled. “That’s sweet.”

He didn’t ask further. Hua Cheng was grateful for that.

They walked home in a hush of post-storm dampness.

At the apartment, Hua Cheng kicked off his boots by the door and carried E-Ming straight to the bedroom. The cat had grown heavier somehow, or maybe it was the weight of fear dissolving, finally. The kind that made his limbs ache now that it was over.

He set E-Ming gently on the bed. The cat stretched, rolled once, and promptly claimed Hua Cheng’s pillow like nothing had happened.

Xie Lian ducked into the kitchen to heat up leftovers.

Hua Cheng stood for a moment, the bag still in his hand. He looked down at it – the soft fold of the skirt tucked neatly beside the nail polish, the necklace’s pendant catching the bedroom light – and then crossed to the wardrobe.

He opened his side, pushed a few hangers out of the way, and slid the bag to the back corner beneath a folded hoodie. Out of sight. Out of mind.

He shut the door.

Didn’t think about it. Didn’t think about how the skirt had felt in his hands. Didn’t think about how it would move if he spun in it.

He focused on E-Ming instead.

The cat was curled tight, purring quietly in sleep. As Hua Cheng watched, a soft hiss whispered from the open door.

Ruoye.

It slithered silently across the floor, scaled body gleaming faintly in the bedroom light. When it reached the bed, it lifted its head and gave E-Ming a cautious nudge.

E-Ming twitched, opened his eye. Gave a grunt.

Ruoye coiled a little closer. Just watching.

Checking on him.

Hua Cheng sat down at the edge of the bed and let out a breath that finally came from somewhere deep.

He didn’t know what had happened the last time E-Ming had gotten hurt on the streets. Didn’t want to know. But tonight, they were both safe.

That night, E-Ming slept on Hua Cheng’s pillow like nothing had happened.

And Hua Cheng let him.

He didn’t even mind when the bastard kicked him in the face mid-dream.

He had lost one sock.

He was digging through the bottom of the wardrobe, muttering to himself about how one sock always vanished no matter how careful he was, when his hand brushed something crinkly.

The red paper bag.

Hua Cheng stilled.

He hadn’t seen it in weeks. Had forgotten it was even there – or maybe just chosen not to think about it. He sat back on his heels, staring. For a moment, he considered pushing it back under the clothes. But instead, without really deciding to, he pulled it out.

The bag rustled softly as he reached in. The skirt was still folded neatly on top, dark fabric stitched with delicate red spirals near the hem. He smoothed a hand over it. Soft. A little heavier than it looked.

He glanced toward the bedroom door. It was closed. Xie Lian was in the kitchen, humming faintly. E-Ming was probably asleep under the couch.

No one would see.

He stood. Stepped out of his pants. Slipped the skirt on.

It fit better than he expected. Sat comfortably on his hips, falling below his knees. He looked at himself in the mirror. Not critically, just curiously. The person looking back at him didn’t feel like a stranger.

He shifted his weight, watching the hem sway slightly.

It looked… nice. That was all. Not dramatic. Not life-changing. Just nice.

He didn’t really know what he’d expected. Embarrassment? A laugh at his own expense? He felt neither. Instead, a quiet calm settled over him. Like exhaling after holding your breath too long.

From the bottom of the bag, the little box of makeup caught his eye. He hesitated.

Shi Qingxuan had done his makeup once. Perfectly, of course, bold eyeliner and quick hands, a knowing grin. But that had been a role to play. This was different. This wasn’t for anyone else. Not even really for a reason.

He picked up the palette and opened it.

The eyeshadow shimmered softly in the light – blacks and reds, warm-toned. He took the brush, dabbed carefully, and dragged it over his eyelid. The first pass was uneven, but he adjusted. Tried again. And again.

It wasn’t perfect. His hands weren’t as steady as Shi Qingxuan’s, and he didn’t know all the tricks. But the red shimmer caught the light in a way that made his eyes look deeper, sharper.

He didn’t look silly. He didn’t look ridiculous. He looked… like himself, in a way he hadn’t seen before. In a way that he never had the chance to explore before. Just a version of himself with a softer edge.

He sat on his side of the bed for a while, the skirt pooling around his legs, the makeup uneven but no less satisfying. Not really thinking. Just letting it be.

A quiet sound came from the door. E-Ming. The cat pushed it open with practiced ease, hopped onto the bed, and stared at him.

“What?” Hua Cheng asked, rubbing a smudge of red from his cheekbone.

E-Ming purred and promptly laid across his lap, completely unfazed. The cat had just settled when the door opened again, slower this time.

Hua Cheng looked up, startled. Xie Lian stood in the doorway, holding a laundry basket. He blinked once.

Then his gaze swept over Hua Cheng – the skirt, the faint shimmer of eyeshadow, the open palette on the bed. The quiet stillness of it all.

Hua Cheng’s shoulders tensed.

But Xie Lian didn’t freeze. Didn’t fumble or overcorrect. His face remained calm, the same way it looked when he walked into a sunlit room or a quiet garden. Just open.

“I was looking for you,” he said after a moment, lifting the laundry slightly. “I found your sock, by the way.” He held it up like a peace offering.

Hua Cheng stared. Then let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Thanks.”

Xie Lian crossed the room and set the sock on the dresser. “That skirt suits you.”

That made Hua Cheng blink. “You think so?”

Xie Lian nodded. “The embroidery’s lovely. And you look… comfortable.”

That last word hit something small and real in Hua Cheng’s chest. “I wasn’t really planning to–” He paused. “I just found the bag again. Thought I’d try it on. That’s all.”

“You don’t need a reason,” Xie Lian said gently. He offered a soft smile and sat down on the bed beside him, careful not to disturb E-Ming.

They sat in silence for a moment.

Hua Cheng looked down at the skirt pooled around his legs again. Then at the little smudge of eyeshadow still visible on his fingers. Then at Xie Lian, who was just watching him with that unshakable calm.

Hua Cheng glanced down, suddenly aware of how quiet the room had gotten. His fingers toyed with the edge of the skirt, smoothing it unnecessarily.

He opened his mouth. Closed it again.

He didn’t know what to say, or if saying anything at all would make it worse. The air felt too delicate, like touching it wrong might tip the whole thing over.

Xie Lian seemed to sense it. He didn’t push. Instead, he let the silence rest for a beat longer, then smiled lightly and said, “Dinner’s ready, by the way.”

Hua Cheng blinked. “Oh.”

“I tried that new tofu marinade,” Xie Lian added, already standing up and brushing off his sleeves like nothing unusual had happened. “You can tell me if it’s terrible.”

Relief hit Hua Cheng like cool water. “Impossible,” he said. Then, standing too, he added, “Just give me a second.”

Xie Lian gave him a glance that was warm and entirely unintrusive. “Take your time.” He paused at the door for a second before adding, “You know, Shi Qingxuan would be delighted to teach you how to do your makeup.”

Despite himself, Hua Cheng huffed a soft laugh. “I think they would be a little bit too delighted for me to handle.”

Xie Lian laughed too, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He lingered just a moment longer, then slipped out, leaving Hua Cheng alone with the faint scent of dinner in the air and the soft weight of his thoughts.

E-Ming stayed behind for once, curling up lazily in the corner like a quiet sentinel.

Hua Cheng looked down at himself one last time: the uneven eyeliner, the little smudge of shadow he hadn’t blended right, the way the skirt brushed against his legs. Still strange. Still uncertain. But not wrong.

He stood, carefully folded the skirt, and walked over to the wardrobe.

This time, he didn’t shove it under anything. He laid it on the shelf beside his jackets. Not hidden. Just… there.

Life moved forward in small, quiet ways after that. Days passed, the routine settled, and the apartment grew warmer with shared moments.

Then one afternoon, without warning, the front door burst open with a clatter that made E-Ming lift his head from his perch on the windowsill.

“I got the job!” Xie Lian’s voice rang through the flat, breathless with excitement. “San Lang, they said yes!”

Hua Cheng was standing at the kitchen counter, half-drying a bowl with a dish towel, but his hands froze mid-motion. He turned, the towel dangling forgotten in one hand.

“What?”

“At the thrift shop down on Baizhou Street,” Xie Lian said, already halfway out of his shoes, his face flushed with the cold and joy. “The one with the weird little mannequin in the window that always looks like it’s judging you? They actually hired me!”

He said it like he couldn’t believe the words himself, like speaking them aloud might make them vanish.

Hua Cheng blinked. Then the meaning hit him. He got the job.

Xie Lian, who’d been turned down so many times he’d stopped counting. Who smiled every time, even when it must’ve hurt. Who’d handed out resumes like flyers and come home with aching feet and that quiet look in his eyes that made Hua Cheng want to burn down every company that said no to him.

Now he was smiling, eyes bright, voice nearly cracking with emotion.

“Gege, that’s amazing!” Hua Cheng said. The words were simple, but the warmth behind them was not.

“I know, right?” Xie Lian laughed, short and startled, like it had bubbled up before he could stop it. “After everything, after all the rejections, I thought they were just being polite when they said they’d call. But they did. And the manager was so kind. She said my organizational skills were ‘a blessing from heaven.’” His voice wobbled on the last word, and that was it.

Hua Cheng didn’t even think, he just opened his arms.

Xie Lian didn’t hesitate for a second. He walked straight into the space between them and wrapped his arms around Hua Cheng like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And Hua Cheng–

Hua Cheng held him.

The hug was warm and firm, the kind that said I’m so proud of you and I love you so much all at once. Xie Lian fit against him like he always had, like some part of Hua Cheng’s body remembered this shape. They had hugged before, a few times, when they were younger. But somewhere in the quiet press of Xie Lian’s arms, in the way his breath hitched a little against Hua Cheng’s collarbone, there was something different now. Something new. Something fragile and beautiful and dangerous in its softness.

Hua Cheng closed his eyes.

He didn’t think about how good it felt to hold Xie Lian. He didn’t think about the heat blooming in his chest or the fact that he didn’t want to let go. He didn’t think about the way Xie Lian’s hand had curled into the back of his shirt or the fact that they were standing so close he could feel the steady thump of Xie Lian’s heartbeat.

He just held him, tighter.

After a long moment, Xie Lian mumbled into his shirt, “When did you grow up so much?”

Hua Cheng opened his eyes.

Then Xie Lian leaned back slightly – just enough to look up – and smiled, fond and teasing and soft in a way that made Hua Cheng’s heart ache.

“You’re taller than me now,” he said, like it was a revelation.

Hua Cheng managed a quiet laugh, one that tried to be casual. “Been taller for a while.”

“I know,” Xie Lian said, smile widening. “But now I can’t pretend otherwise.”

They stood like that for another few moments. Not pulling away. Not needing to.

The dish towel was still on the floor somewhere. E-Ming had jumped onto the table and was pretending not to watch, tail flicking. Outside, the sky was beginning to darken, but in here, everything felt bright.

Eventually, Xie Lian said, “I start tomorrow. I’ll get to sort donations, organize displays– Oh, and there’s a whole back room of books. You’ll come visit me, right?”

Hua Cheng looked at him, really looked – the light in his face, the quiet determination behind the joy. The way he glowed, just a little, like something inside him had finally been given room to breathe.

“Of course, gege,” he said, softly. “Just try to stop me.”

He still hadn’t let go.

And neither had Xie Lian.

Even as the seconds passed, even as the space between words stretched into silence, neither of them stepped back. Hua Cheng was acutely aware of every point of contact – the press of Xie Lian’s chest against his, the warmth of his hands resting lightly on Hua Cheng’s back, the faint rise and fall of his breath.

And then Xie Lian looked up.

His smile had faded into something quieter. Not gone, just… gentler. His eyes searched Hua Cheng’s, still full of light, but the mood had shifted. The joy of a new job was still there, but underneath it, something unspoken curled into the silence.

The air felt heavier.

Hua Cheng’s heart started to beat a little too loudly in his chest.

They were still holding each other. He could feel the weight of Xie Lian’s gaze, could sense the moment something unspoken flickered between them like a match being struck in the dark. His breath caught.

And then, slowly – so slowly Hua Cheng could have stepped away if he wanted – Xie Lian leaned forward.

His eyes never left Hua Cheng’s. His hand slid up slightly, to rest just over Hua Cheng’s shoulder, steady and sure.

Their foreheads nearly touched. Xie Lian tilted his head.

Hua Cheng’s entire body froze from the kind of shock that came when a dream you’d held for so long suddenly stepped into reality.

Xie Lian saw it. Saw the wide-eyed surprise, the tiny intake of breath. And he pulled back instantly, hands loosening as though he’d touched fire.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, voice shaking. “I thought– I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! Oh my god, I really misunderstood everything, didn’t I–”

But Hua Cheng moved before he could finish the sentence. He grabbed Xie Lian by the waist, fast and firm, and pulled him back in.

Their mouths met in a rush, all the heat and tension of the past few minutes crashing into a single moment. It wasn’t gentle. It was full of urgency and something deeper, older, something that had waited years for permission.

Hua Cheng kissed him like he couldn’t believe it was real. Like he was afraid that if he hesitated for even a second, the world might end before he got to taste this.

And Xie Lian kissed him back, startled too at first, but then melting into it, arms winding tight around Hua Cheng’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Like maybe he had been waiting just as long.

Their breaths mingled, uneven and warm against each other’s lips. Hua Cheng’s hands tightened, fingers digging lightly into the fabric of Xie Lian’s shirt, anchoring him there. Every second felt both endless and fleeting, like time had paused just for this.

Xie Lian’s hands slid from Hua Cheng’s shoulders to cradle his face, thumbs brushing gently over his cheekbones. The kiss deepened, slower now, more deliberate, learning the shape of each other’s mouths for the first time – because it was nothing like the first time they kissed, all those months ago.

That one had been rushed, a necessity. A distraction, part of a cover. They hadn’t spoken about it afterward. Hadn’t needed to. It hadn’t meant anything. At least, that’s what they told themselves.

But this, this wasn’t for a mission. This wasn’t pretend. This was real.

Neither pulled away, their bodies pressed close, hearts hammering in sync.

Hua Cheng could feel the slight tremble in Xie Lian’s hands, the breath hitching just beneath the surface. He kissed him harder, as if to reassure them both that this was real, that this was now.

They pulled back just enough to breathe, eyes searching each other’s faces, both caught in a quiet storm of emotions. Hua Cheng’s mouth opened, then closed, the words tangled in nerves and uncertainty. Xie Lian gave a small, awkward smile, clearing his throat as if that might start the conversation.

“Gege–” Hua Cheng started.

“San Lang–” Xie Lian said at the same time.

They looked at each other for a second, before laughing together.

The tension between them softened, replaced by a warmth that felt like a fragile, precious thread. Without overthinking it, Hua Cheng leaned forward, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to Xie Lian’s lips. It was tender and slow, like an unspoken promise to take their time, to savor this new, uncertain moment.

They didn’t say anything more at first. The world outside the quiet room seemed to fade away as they slowly settled onto the couch, still wrapped up in each other’s arms. Their kisses deepened, but their pace slowed, careful, unhurried.

Eventually, Xie Lian rested his head against Hua Cheng’s chest, his breath steady, his body relaxed in a way Hua Cheng hadn’t seen before. Hua Cheng tightened his arms around him, holding on like he was afraid to let this moment slip through his fingers.

After a while, Hua Cheng’s voice broke the silence, soft and almost shy. “How long did you suspect?”

Xie Lian smiled, eyes closed. “Since we were younger. Though I thought you’d grow out of it.”

Hua Cheng’s reply was steady and sure. “Never.”

The silence between them deepened, comfortable now. Then, hesitantly, Xie Lian spoke again, his voice tentative. “Just to clarify… this is– I mean, are we– what are we?”

Hua Cheng held him tighter, meeting those eyes full of questions with quiet certainty. “Whatever you want us to be.”

Inside, Hua Cheng’s heart was pounding, loud and desperate, like it was shouting ‘Please say partners. Please want this too.’

Xie Lian’s voice came next, softer, almost a whisper. “Dating?”

Hua Cheng kept his cool, though inside he was shouting with joy and relief.

“I’d be honored.”

Chapter Text

Dating didn’t really change much.

They were already living together, already fell asleep to the sound of each other breathing – though now they held each other through it. They already shared groceries and chores, argued lightly over folding methods and tea steeping times. Ruoye still coiled gently around Xie Lian’s neck when he was tired, and E-Ming still swatted at Hua Cheng’s paintbrush whenever it got too close to the edge of the table. Their life had always been quiet in its shape, but full.

And yet, to Hua Cheng, everything had changed.

It was in the way Xie Lian kissed him now, just because. The way he tugged lightly on Hua Cheng’s sleeve while brushing his teeth and leaned into him without hesitation when they passed each other in the kitchen. The way their bodies curled into one another on the couch like they were made to fit.

They’d always been close. But now, they were allowed to be. There was no pretending anymore, no excuses, no needing to justify why Hua Cheng watched him for so long or why Xie Lian’s smile made his knees go weak. They didn’t need to disguise it. It could just be affection.

And Hua Cheng adored it.

He adored the way Xie Lian hummed as he hung up his jacket, the sound quiet and tuneless and entirely content. He adored the way Xie Lian fell asleep halfway through books and woke up hours later with a confused blink and his hair mussed sideways. He adored the mornings most of all: the low hush of them brushing past each other in the soft glow of the apartment, still sleep-warm and messy-eyed, sharing a pot of tea before the world caught up.

It still felt impossible.

Even now, even with Xie Lian curled up next to him in the evenings and dropping sleepy kisses against his collarbone in the morning, some part of Hua Cheng waited for it all to vanish. A quiet voice in the back of his mind whispered: You don’t get this. This isn’t yours to keep.

But his selfish heart didn’t care. It had waited too long, loved too deeply, to turn this down. So Hua Cheng let himself have it, a little more each day. He made breakfast and let Xie Lian rest his head in his lap while they watched old movies.

He let himself wear his favorite silver earrings that Xie Lian had bought for him with his first salary. He started using the red eyeliner that he had grabbed from the shop without a thought months ago. And sometimes – not always, but more often now – he wore the skirt. He didn’t hide it anymore. He had put it away carefully that night, folded neatly on the shelf, and since then, it had come out like a quiet truth he was learning to live with. Some days it was just the skirt. Other days, he added jewelry, layered chains and rings, a bit of sparkle around his eyes. Xie Lian never made a big deal of it. Just smiled softly and complimented his looks.

“That color looks good on you,” he said once, when Hua Cheng came out of the bedroom with red eyeshadow and his soft black skirt. He was curled on the couch, book in hand, Ruoye snoozing in a coil on his lap.

They sat together, knees brushing, shoulders aligned. Xie Lian took his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world and rubbed gentle circles into the back of his palm. Hua Cheng closed his eyes and let it happen, let the warmth of it sink into his bones.

And even after Xie Lian started his job at the thrift shop, busy and glowing with new purpose, nothing changed between them. If anything, Hua Cheng only fell harder.

He kept packing notes into Xie Lian’s coat pockets and lunchbox. Scribbled thoughts, small affirmations, jokes, or sometimes just a line that said: I missed you before you even left.

He assumed Xie Lian still couldn’t read them. It was part of the charm, a private ritual, for himself more than anyone.

Until one day, Xie Lian came home from the shop a little later than usual, cheeks pink from the wind and a paper bag swinging from one hand. He kicked off his shoes with a tired sigh.

“I found another scarf in the donation bin,” he said, holding up the bag like a prize. “It’s hideous. I love it.”

Hua Cheng shook his head, still smiling, and went back to rinsing vegetables. The radio murmured softly in the background, the kind of mellow, forgettable music that only ever played in mid-afternoon. E-Ming snoozed by the windowsill. The apartment smelled faintly of ginger and soy.

It was quiet. Peaceful.

Then, Xie Lian’s voice, gentle but very clear: “San Lang?”

Hua Cheng glanced up. “Yeah?”

“Does this…” Xie Lian reappeared in the doorway, holding a small folded square of paper – the one Hua Cheng had slipped into his jacket pocket that morning. His expression was unreadable. “Does this say ‘I love you’?”

Time stopped. Hua Cheng froze, dish still in hand, heart slamming against his ribs. “What?”

Xie Lian tilted his head, expression softer now. “Here– See? I can’t read all of it yet, but this character, this one means love, doesn’t it?”

Hua Cheng couldn’t speak. His hand slowly lowered to the counter. His face felt hot. His pulse roared in his ears.

Xie Lian took a few steps closer, voice even gentler now. “Since when have you been writing these?”

“I… I didn’t think you could read them,” Hua Cheng said hoarsely.

“I couldn’t,” Xie Lian admitted. “But I’ve been learning. I wanted to know what you were saying. I thought, maybe they were even more important than I thought.”

Hua Cheng looked at him, unsure how to answer. He couldn’t read his expression. Was Xie Lian mad? “I–”

Xie Lian held the note in both hands, crumpled slightly now at the edges. “Is it true?” he asked, so softly it was barely a breath. “Do you mean it?”

Hua Cheng couldn’t bring himself to deny it. He crossed the space between them in three steps and stopped just short of touching. His hands hovered, unsure, until Xie Lian took one and pressed it to his chest.

Hua Cheng’s voice came out raw. “How could I not mean it? I’ve meant it since I first met you.”

For a beat, neither of them moved. The quiet stretched between them.

Then Xie Lian’s gaze dropped to their joined hands. His fingers twitched faintly, like he was about to pull away, but didn’t. His voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. “I don’t deserve it,” he said. “Not after everything. After how much I–” He faltered. “I hurt you, San Lang.”

Hua Cheng’s grip tightened in protest. “You could never hurt me,” he said, firm and certain.

Xie Lian opened his mouth to argue, but Hua Cheng was already shaking his head, gentle and unwavering. “You were scared,” he said. “You were trying to carry everything alone, because that’s what you’ve always done. That’s not hurting me. That’s you trying your best. And if you think for one second that makes you less worthy, you’re wrong.”

Xie Lian’s eyes shimmered, but he didn’t speak.

“You are the kindest, most selfless person I have ever known. No one in this world,” Hua Cheng continued, “could ever be more worthy of being loved than you.”

Something in Xie Lian broke open at that. Not in a painful way, more like the unbinding of something too tightly wound. His shoulders loosened and his breath hitched once. “I love you too,” he said. “In case that wasn’t obvious.”

Hua Cheng made a sound in response – maybe a laugh, maybe a breathless sob – and then he was pulling him in, arms wrapping tight around Xie Lian’s back. They kissed – not rushed, not frantic, but sure, certain. Xie Lian melted into it instantly, hands curling around Hua Cheng’s neck, lips parting with quiet ease. Their noses bumped. Hua Cheng grinned into his mouth. And Xie Lian laughed wetly against him, breath warm and happy.

They stayed like that for a while, tangled up in the middle of their kitchen, warm and unhurried. The soup boiled quietly on the stove, completely forgotten. Somewhere behind them, E-Ming meowed for attention.

Eventually, Xie Lian whispered, “I hope you know I’m keeping that note.”

Hua Cheng immediately buried his face in Xie Lian’s shoulder. “No, gege, don’t do that!” He whined. Xie Lian chuckled, still holding him close. “I’ll make you a better one! It was a bad pen! And my handwriting’s awful, I didn’t even try to make it look good–”

Xie Lian leaned back just enough to look at him, still smiling. “San Lang.” He blinked. “I love this one. I think it’s perfect.”

That shut Hua Cheng up. His throat worked around something wordless. Then, softly, he nodded. “Fine. You can keep it. But I’ll still make you a better one later.”

They leaned into each other again, warm and quiet and full.

Life carried on uninterrupted and blissful until the beginning of May. The city was warm with early summer with skies wide and blue. Hua Cheng walked beside Xie Lian through the open-air market, their bags bumping gently against each other as they moved from stall to stall.

It wasn’t anything special. Groceries, a replacement for the teacup Xie Lian had chipped last week, a stop at the tiny bookstore where Hua Cheng liked to linger by the poetry section even though he pretended he didn’t. But Hua Cheng couldn't stop smiling.

He loved this. Walking beside Xie Lian like this, arms brushing, arguing quietly over what kind of rice to get. He loved how Xie Lian automatically reached for his hand when they crossed a busy street. He loved watching him haggle with the fruit seller, polite but firm, and then overpay anyway because the plums looked bruised.

It was so normal. And it made Hua Cheng dizzy with affection.

They were halfway down the block from the hardware store – they needed new curtains after E-Ming had shredded the last set in an ill-advised attempt to scale them like a jungle gym – when Xie Lian suddenly slowed his steps. His head tilted slightly, his expression sharpening with sudden deliberation.

“San Lang,” he said. “Could you run ahead to the shop and ask about the curtain rods? I think they had two different lengths last time.”

Hua Cheng blinked. “Now?”

“Yes,” Xie Lian said, entirely too quickly. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

“…You don’t want to pick them out together?”

“I trust your judgment!” Xie Lian said brightly. “Besides, you have the better eye for measurements.”

That was technically true, but Hua Cheng narrowed his gaze slightly. “Are you trying to ditch me?”

“What? No. Of course not.” He smiled, sweet, innocent, suspicious as hell. “I’ll be right there.”

Hua Cheng squinted at him. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m being efficient,” Xie Lian said, already backing away. “Go! I promise I’ll only be a few minutes.” Then he turned and disappeared into the flow of people on the sidewalk before Hua Cheng could argue.

Hua Cheng stood there for a second, frowning.

That had been very suspicious.

And while Xie Lian wasn’t a particularly skilled liar, he was capable of just enough mischief to keep Hua Cheng guessing.

Still…

Hua Cheng sighed, shouldered the bags, and turned toward the hardware store. “This better not be about another haunted plant pot,” he muttered, but he was smiling despite himself.

As he walked, a little part of him wondered – not worried, exactly, just curious. Wondering where Xie Lian had gone. Wondering why he’d sent him away. Wondering what he could possibly be up to with that slightly flushed face and secretive smile.

Ten minutes passed.

Then fifteen.

By the twentieth, Hua Cheng’s unease had begun to take shape. The curtains had been chosen. The cashier had tried to make small talk about monsoon season. Still, Xie Lian hadn’t shown up.

He checked the time again. Then, frowning, stepped out of the shop and retraced his steps back toward the direction Xie Lian had vanished.

The market was still bustling – stalls full of dried flowers and hand-carved fans, the scent of roasted chestnuts mixing with summer heat – but Hua Cheng’s eyes moved quickly, scanning for the telltale white of Xie Lian’s t-shirt, the tied-back hair – longer now, the unmistakable curve of his posture.

When he finally spotted him, it wasn’t at all what he expected.

Xie Lian was standing a little ways off the main path, half-shielded by a rack of sun-faded postcards. He was speaking with two men – one tall and broad-shouldered, the other lean and sharp around the eyes – and all three of them looked like they’d seen a ghost.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing.

Hua Cheng’s steps slowed. He hadn’t seen them in years, yet he still recognized them easily. They hadn’t changed.

Xie Lian stood awkwardly between them now, one hand nervously clasping the other. His face wasn’t hostile exactly, just… wary. Tight around the eyes. As if trying to smile politely while also calculating an escape route.

Hua Cheng hesitated.

He could walk away. Give them space. These were Xie Lian’s childhood friends, after all. People who had known him long before Hua Cheng ever had the chance. He didn’t know how they parted exactly, just that at some point, when Xie Lian had needed support the most, they had stopped seeing each other.

And now, here they were. Years later. Acting surprised he’d ever disappeared.

Hua Cheng stepped closer. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help catching the sharp edge of Mu Qing’s voice: “…and you just vanished? After everything, you didn’t even try to reach out.”

“Yeah,” Feng Xin added, more hurt than angry. “We looked for you, you know. For months. You didn’t even leave a letter.”

Xie Lian’s voice was quiet, but steady. “I didn’t think you’d want one.”

Before either of them could respond, Hua Cheng stepped into view.

“I’m sorry,” he said flatly, eyes sharp. “But maybe the better question is: where were you when he needed you?”

All three of them turned at once.

Mu Qing’s eyes narrowed. Feng Xin stepped forward slightly, instinctively protective. “Who the hell are you?”

Xie Lian blinked. “San Lang,” he said, with clear relief, his shoulders easing.

“You were gone a while,” Hua Cheng said gently, his eyes searching Xie Lian’s face. “Everything alright, gege?”

“Yes,” Xie Lian said, then paused, and amended, “Mostly. I wasn’t expecting to run into…um. These two.”

“Who is he?” Feng Xin asked again, more firmly.

“He’s my boyfriend, Hua Cheng,” Xie Lian answered, with a steadiness that surprised even himself.

Hua Cheng felt it like a jolt straight to the ribs, not because the words were unexpected but because they were real. Spoken aloud. Out in the world. Not whispered in the dark or left unsaid between looks and touches. He’d heard Xie Lian say it before, once or twice, just to him, soft and private, like a promise. But this was different. He said it in front of other people. In front of people who mattered – or, at least, had mattered at some point. In front of people who knew him.

Boyfriend. He was Xie Lian’s boyfriend. Not a burden he was lucky to carry. Not a secret kept safe in the quiet corners of their shared home. But someone who belonged beside him.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to keep his expression neutral. Cool. Unbothered. But inside, he was glowing. And maybe just a little bit smug. Okay, a lot smug.

Xie Lian paused, wondering if he should present the other two since Hong-er had met them before. In the end, he still did. “San Lang, these are Feng Xin and Mu Qing, some old friends.”

A beat of silence.

“…San Lang?” Feng Xin choked.

“Boyfriend?” Mu Qing echoed, stunned. His gaze swept over Hua Cheng, narrowing further. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Xie Lian said, firm now. “Very.”

Feng Xin and Mu Qing exchanged a look, a mix of disbelief and something else Hua Cheng couldn’t quite name. Suspicion? Worry? Jealousy? It didn’t matter.

“How long have you known this guy?” Mu Qing questioned. “He looks like trouble.”

“He’s not–” Xie Lian tried to defend him, but Mu Qing crossed his arms, eyeing Hua Cheng like he was sizing him up for a police lineup.

“He looks like he’s in the mafia or something.”

That earned a tiny hitch in Xie Lian’s breath. Hua Cheng caught it immediately, the way his gege’s expression flickered, halfway between a wince and laughter, and it only made Hua Cheng’s smile sharpen at the edges.

If only you knew, he thought with a laugh.

“Seriously,” Feng Xin said, frowning at Hua Cheng’s today’s all-black outfit, the faint glint of the silver rings, the crimson beads at his ears. “Where’d you even find this guy?”

Hua Cheng raised an eyebrow, unbothered. He didn’t flinch or snap. No need. Every insult just made Xie Lian inch a little closer to him, and that was more satisfying than any retort.

Xie Lian opened his mouth to respond, probably with something measured and diplomatic, but Hua Cheng gently touched his arm. He leaned in slightly and murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, “You don’t have to explain anything to them, gege.”

“Right,” Mu Qing muttered. “Let me guess. He showed up out of nowhere, said a bunch of mysterious crap, and now you’re living together? I mean, it’s not like you’ve never taken strays in before.”

That made Xie Lian straighten. “I didn’t ask for your approval,” he said, tone still polite, but cooling. “San Lang has never made me feel unsafe. I can’t say the same for how this conversation’s going.”

Feng Xin looked taken aback. “What? We’re just worried about you.”

“You’re judging someone you don’t know based on how they look,” Xie Lian said flatly. “That’s not worry. That’s just being rude.” His hands had curled slightly at his sides, and there was a tension in his shoulders that Hua Cheng didn’t like.

Enough was enough. “We have some ice cream,” Hua Cheng said suddenly, stepping in smoothly. His voice was even, cool, pleasant. But there was steel beneath it. “So we have to go.”

Xie Lian blinked, then caught on immediately. “Ah– Yes. We do.” He seized the lifeline like a man escaping a sinking boat. “It’ll melt if we stay too long.”

But Feng Xin stepped in front of them. “Wait, wait, hold on. Just…give us your number or something. We should all catch up properly. Maybe coffee? Next week?”

Xie Lian hesitated. Hua Cheng could see the war in his eyes, the pull of old history, old friendship, guilt, duty, and beside it, the growing ache of discomfort. But he didn’t interfere. This was not his decision to make.

“…Sure,” Xie Lian said after a moment. “Coffee sometime sounds nice.”

Feng Xin smiled, visibly relieved. “Great. I’ll text you,” he said, giving his phone to Xie Lian so that he could save his number.

Mu Qing kept eyeing Hua Cheng with lingering doubt. He didn’t say anything, but his silence was its own kind of judgment.

Xie Lian turned to Hua Cheng as soon as they were a safe distance away, tension still thrumming in his limbs like an echo.

Hua Cheng’s eyes searched his face, soft but steady. “Gege, are you okay?”

Xie Lian exhaled slowly. “Yes. I just… wasn’t expecting to see them.”

Hua Cheng nodded, fingers brushing against the back of Xie Lian’s hand again – not gripping, not pulling, just there.

“You don’t have to see them ever again,” he said, gentle but firm. “You don’t owe them anything.”

“I know…” Xie Lian murmured. His gaze dropped for a beat, caught in thought. Then, after a moment: “I think… I think I do need to talk to them, though. For my sake.”

Hua Cheng didn’t respond right away. Just watched him with eyes that saw more than anyone else ever did – not just the smile, not just the calm, but the fracture lines underneath.

Xie Lian gave a small, wry smile. “Not today. Not like this. But eventually.”

Hua Cheng tilted his head, voice quiet. “You’re sure?”

“I’m not sure about much,” Xie Lian admitted. “But… it’s been so long. And I think part of me never stopped wondering what I would say if I saw them again. Maybe now I can find out.”

Hua Cheng gave a soft hum of acknowledgment. “Then I’ll be there. However you need.”

Xie Lian glanced at him, warmth flickering behind his tired expression. “I know.”

A week later.

The café was small and sun-drenched, its windows open to let in the soft spring breeze. It was quaint, all wood-paneled charm and trailing vines over mismatched furniture, the kind of place with handwritten chalkboard menus. It was neutral ground. Public enough to keep anyone from raising their voice, cozy enough to pretend everything was fine.

It should’ve felt peaceful.

Xie Lian stood just outside the entrance, eyes on the door but not moving.

“You can still turn around,” Hua Cheng said quietly beside him. “I’ll make up a very polite excuse involving a ghost riot and a municipal emergency.”

Xie Lian huffed a small breath, almost a laugh. “I know I asked you to come, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” Hua Cheng said. “I’m just giving you an out.”

Xie Lian turned slightly to face him. “It’s just…” A pause. “I’m sorry about what they said last time.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Hua Cheng answers. “I couldn’t care less about what they think.” And he didn’t. What he cared about was how it affected Xie Lian. The way words stuck to him like barbs, even when he smiled through them.

Xie Lian looked at him for a few seconds, searching his eyes. Then he gave him a nervous nod.

That settled it. Hua Cheng opened the door for him without another word.

Inside, Feng Xin and Mu Qing were already seated in a booth near the back. They both looked up at the sound of the bell, and their expressions soured almost instantly when they saw Hua Cheng at Xie Lian’s side.

“You brought him?” Mu Qing said sharply, even before they were fully in earshot.

Hua Cheng could’ve rolled his eyes. He didn’t. He just smiled a bit too wide.

Xie Lian blinked, then inclined his head in greeting. “Hello to you, too.”

Feng Xin stood up, awkward and visibly uncomfortable. “We thought this was just going to be us three. Like old times.”

“I told you,” Xie Lian said calmly, “he’s part of my life now.”

A flicker of pride swelled in Hua Cheng’s chest, so sharp it hurt. He chose me. I’m standing right here. Beside him. With him.

Mu Qing crossed his arms, voice clipped. “This isn’t about your dating life. We just wanted to talk.”

“Then talk,” Xie Lian said, settling into the booth beside Hua Cheng without waiting for an invitation. “We’re here.”

Feng Xin opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly unsure how to proceed with Hua Cheng present. After a long pause, he sat back down. Mu Qing followed a moment later, still bristling.

“Fine,” Feng Xin muttered. “Fine. Whatever.”

The silence stretched, heavy as stone. Eventually, Feng Xin rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “I didn’t mean to start like that. It’s just… a surprise.”

“Is it?” Hua Cheng said mildly. “I was standing right next to gege last time.”

Mu Qing shot him a look. “Yeah, and we were trying not to escalate things in public.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Hua Cheng replied, deadpan.

“Alright,” Xie Lian cut in, gentle but firm. “We’re not doing this. I didn’t come here to referee.”

Feng Xin deflated a little. “Right. Sorry. Really.”

The server arrived. Xie Lian ordered jasmine tea. Hua Cheng, calm to the point of defiant, asked for black coffee. Mu Qing’s mouth twitched like he wanted to comment. He didn’t.

Hua Cheng sat with one arm draped over the booth’s backrest, thumb idly tracing a pattern into the fabric beside Xie Lian’s shoulder. He didn’t look at Feng Xin or Mu Qing. Not directly. He didn’t need to.

Let them squirm under the weight of their own discomfort.

Feng Xin eventually looked at Xie Lian, something more honest behind his expression. “Okay. So… how have you been?” he asked, fingers drumming on his cup.

“Alive,” Xie Lian said dryly, and surprisingly, that made Feng Xin laugh.

“Seriously,” Feng Xin said. “Where’ve you been all this time? We looked for you for months. It was like you vanished. And after we heard about what happened to your parents…”

Xie Lian’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve been here and there.”

“That’s not an answer,” Mu Qing said.

“No,” Xie Lian agreed lightly. “It’s not.”

“Where do you live now?” Feng Xin tried. “What do you do?”

“I’m working at a thrift shop,” Xie Lian said, more easily. “It’s small, but nice. Quiet. And I live nearby.”

Mu Qing frowned. “So you’re not going to tell us where you’ve been these past four years?”

Xie Lian took a sip of his tea. “Not today.”

That shut the line of questioning down, but tension rippled across the table. Mu Qing wasn’t one to let things go easily, and sure enough, his next words were edged. “You heard about Jun Wu, right?” he said. “It was all over the news.”

Xie Lian’s hands stilled. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I heard.”

Hua Cheng kept his expression smooth, the perfect mask, but his fingers curled slightly against the edge of the table.

Feng Xin’s brows drew together. “Mu Qing and I, we only met him a few times in passing, but you used to be close, right? So you must know something about what happened, no?”

Used to be close. The words made Hua Cheng’s jaw tighten. He bit them back. How could they claim to have been friends with Xie Lian when they had been so fucking blind. When they had never gave a shit about what Xie Lian had been going through.

“We were never close,” Xie Lian said firmly. “We crossed paths. A long time ago.”

Mu Qing narrowed his eyes. “You sure you don’t know more than you’re saying?”

And there it was. The carelessness. The knife.

Hua Cheng’s hand twitched beneath the table. It took effort not to slam it down. You don’t know what you’re asking about, he wanted to say. You don’t know what he survived.

But Mu Qing didn’t care. He asked like it was a puzzle to be solved, a piece of gossip. Like Xie Lian’s history was just another item on the table to poke at, examine, pick apart.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Xie Lian replied, tone even. “I didn’t then. I don’t now.”

Hua Cheng exhaled slowly through his nose. That was gege: always composed, always gentle, even when they didn’t deserve it. Even when the name alone made him go still and quiet like this.

He wanted to tear through the silence that followed. He wanted to say, You didn’t see what I saw. He wanted to make Mu Qing regret every word.

But this wasn’t his fight, not unless Xie Lian needed him to step in. And Xie Lian hadn’t looked at him yet. Hadn’t reached for his hand or given any signal.

So Hua Cheng stayed still, silent as a blade tucked beneath silk. But inside, he was burning.

Xie Lian shifted, then offered a softer tone. “What about you two? What have you been doing all this time?”

Of course he did. Of course he turned the conversation away, made space for them even after that. They didn’t deserve him. Not then. Not now.

“Well,” Feng Xin said, scratching the back of his head, “I’ve been working at a gym. Personal training, mostly. Got certified a while back.”

“That’s great! And you, Mu Qing?” Xie Lian prompted.

“IT,” Mu Qing muttered. “Security systems.”

“I wasn’t expecting you two to still be… close,” Xie Lian admitted.

Feng Xin went pink around the ears. “Yeah, well… uh. We’re… kind of dating.”

Hua Cheng arched a brow. Well, that explains the bickering. He’d thought they were either about to kiss or kill each other half the time. Apparently, it was both.

Xie Lian blinked. “Oh.”

“‘Oh’?” Mu Qing echoed, defensive.

“No! I just–” Xie Lian shook his head, then smiled. “I’m surprised. Happy for you. Truly.”

“Well,” Feng Xin said, looking a little sheepish. “It’s recent. A year-ish.”

“Talking about dating…” Mu Qing’s eyes slid to Hua Cheng. “How’d you two meet?”

“More than ten years ago but we lost contact,” Xie Lian said carefully. “We reconnected two years ago.”

“And started dating?” Feng Xin asked.

“Two months ago,” Xie Lian admitted.

Hua Cheng didn’t miss the skeptical looks being exchanged across the table. He let his fingers tap once against the side of his cup, slow and deliberate.

Mu Qing’s eyes narrowed. “So you’ve known each other since before you disappeared?”

“Yes.”

“Funny,” Feng Xin said slowly. “If he knew you ten years ago, why have we never met him?”

Hua Cheng tilted his head, a faintly amused glint in his eye. “Maybe you did.”

They both stared at him.

Mu Qing snorted. “I think I’d remember.” But even as he said it, his eyes lingered on Hua Cheng’s face.

Hua Cheng leaned back, one arm draped along the back of the booth, and said, dryly, “You haven’t changed much. Still suspicious of anyone who gets too close to gege.”

Mu Qing blinked. A beat. Then his expression shifted. “…Wait.”

Feng Xin glanced between them. “What?”

Mu Qing stared harder now, suspicion sharpening. “You– you’re that kid. That street kid that used to follow Xie Lian like mangy stray. You had some kind of… injury? On your eye.”

A flicker passed through Hua Cheng’s expression, gone almost as soon as it appeared.

Xie Lian set his tea down with a quiet clink. “Mu Qing–”

“You’re him.” Mu Qing sat back, stunned. “Hong-er.”

 “What?” Feng Xin gaped. “No, that doesn’t make sense. That kid was, what, fifteen? You’re–”

“Twenty-one,” Hua Cheng supplied smoothly. “Time tends to pass.”

“You disappeared too,” Mu Qing said slowly.

“I had my own things to deal with,” Hua Cheng said. “Same as everyone else.”

“This is insane.” Mu Qing shook his head, still trying to reconcile the memory of that battered, sharp-eyed teenager with the man in front of him now. “How did you even reconnect?” he asked suddenly, turning to Xie Lian, voice tight. “You expect me to believe you just bumped into each other after all that time?”

Xie Lian didn’t flinch. “Actually, yes. We crossed paths on the street. It was… unexpected.”

“Right,” Mu Qing said flatly. “That’s not weird at all. Just some guy who used to stalk you like a feral dog conveniently shows back up years later.”

Hua Cheng’s expression didn’t change, but the air around him did, like it got quieter.

“Mu Qing,” Xie Lian said, voice low and warning. “Stop.”

“What?” Mu Qing gestured at Hua Cheng. “It’s weird. He’s weird. Don’t tell me you don’t see that.”

Hua Cheng leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the table and his chin on one hand, entirely too casual. “It’s not because you’re incapable of making connections if not for your own profit,” he said, voice soft as silk, “that it’s the case for everyone.”

Mu Qing’s jaw tightened. Feng Xin shifted, clearly uncomfortable, but not saying anything yet. Coward.

“If you two keep insulting him,” Xie Lian said, voice deceptively calm, “we’re leaving.”

Mu Qing exhaled through his nose but didn’t speak again.

There was a tense beat of silence, then he muttered, “Fine. But do you even know what he does? For a living? Where he lives?”

Xie Lian didn’t hesitate. “He’s an artist.”

Mu Qing raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Artist.” He said it like a slur.

“And he lives with me,” Xie Lian added, tone even.

Feng Xin choked on his drink. “Wait– with you? When you’ve only been dating for two months?”

Xie Lian sipped his tea calmly. “As I said, we’ve known each for much longer. It’s not sudden.”

Hua Cheng smiled, teeth slightly bared. “You want sudden? I could ask how long it took you two to stop trying to kill each other and start fucking.”

Feng Xin sputtered. Mu Qing’s face went rigid.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian said, exasperated but not really angry.

“What?” Hua Cheng said mildly. “Just trying to make sure we’re all playing by the same rules.”

“Okay,” Feng Xin said quickly, hands raised. “Look. I get it. We’re being assholes.”

“You are,” Hua Cheng agreed.

Feng Xin gave him a strained smile. “Fair.”

The table fell quiet for a beat.

Xie Lian set down his cup with a soft clink and said, “We didn’t come here to fight.”

“We didn’t mean to fight,” Feng Xin muttered. “Let’s just… not bring any more ghosts from the past.”

Xie Lian paused, as if suddenly remembering something.

Hua Cheng turned toward him slightly, the unease sharp under his skin. He could tell something had been pulled loose. Xie Lian fidgeted, barely, just a shift in his hands, a drag of breath, and Hua Cheng knew what was coming wasn’t simple.

“Ah,” Xie Lian said, voice thinner now. “About that…” He hesitated. Struggled for the words. “I… A year ago,” he began, “I saw Jian Lan.”

The silence that followed felt like ice cracking.

Feng Xin stared at him. “What?”

“We didn’t talk,” Xie Lian said quickly. “Not really. I just… crossed paths with her.” He hesitated for just a second before adding, “On the street.”

He made the choice of a protective lie. A kind lie.

“She ran when she recognized me,” Xie Lian went on, his eyes downcast. “Didn’t say a word. I was too surprised to chase after her.” He let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t think she wants to reconnect.”

Feng Xin’s jaw was slack. “She… she’s alive?”

Xie Lian nodded. “At least we know that much.”

Feng Xin sat back like someone had punched the air out of him. For a long time, he said nothing, just stared down into his cup like it might offer him more answers.

Mu Qing didn’t speak either. But his expression softened, barely, like the edges of something brittle were folding inward.

Hua Cheng studied Xie Lian’s face. His calm was a veil, but he saw the tension behind it, the quiet ache. Always carrying other people’s grief like it’s his own.

“…Thank you,” Feng Xin finally said, voice low. “For telling me.”

Xie Lian gave him a small, tired smile. “I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“I’m glad you did,” Feng Xin said. Then, after a beat, “Even if it hurts.”

They all sat with that for a moment. Not broken. Just quiet. The kind of silence that came after an old wound re-opened. But at least now it had air.

Eventually, Feng Xin cleared his throat. “So. Um. If we wanted to… do this again sometime. Not the fighting part. The…” He gestured vaguely around the table. “The seeing each other part.”

Xie Lian blinked. “You’d want that?”

“I think we should,” Mu Qing said, surprising them all. “Next time, maybe dinner. Somewhere neutral.”

Hua Cheng grinned, showing his teeth. “Only if gege’s cooking.”

“NO!” Feng Xin and Mu Qing both yelled.

Xie Lian looked between them, warmth slowly returning to his expression. “I’d like that,” he said softly. “Really.”

Chapter Text

May ended with exaltation. The morning of the Dragon Boat Festival broke with a steady breeze and the smell of rain on old stone. Though it hadn’t rained yet, the air was damp with promise, the sky a soft slate gray above the city.

Xie Lian had been up early.

By the time Hua Cheng wandered into the kitchen, hair still mussed from sleep, Xie Lian had already filled the apartment with the faint, savory scent of boiling leaves and rice.

“You’re making zongzi?” Hua Cheng asked, surprised.

Xie Lian looked up from the pot, his hair tied back and sleeves rolled. “Mn. I haven’t done it in years,” he said. “I had to watch a video to remember how to tie the string.”

Hua Cheng stepped closer and peered into the pot. Leaf-wrapped pyramids bobbed gently beneath the lid. A smile curved at his mouth. “You’re full of secrets.”

“You say that like you’re only now realizing,” Xie Lian teased, but his eyes were soft.

The day moved in slow and unhurried. They ate sticky rice dumplings together at the table: some sweet, filled with red bean paste, others savory with fried veggies. Xie Lian insisted on hanging small bundles of mugwort and calamus by the window for luck and helped Hua Cheng twist strings of five-colored silk into bracelets they knotted onto each other’s wrists.

“I never used to like this holiday,” Hua Cheng admitted as he adjusted the charm around his wrist. “It always felt like something for other people. Families. Friends. But this…”

He looked around their quiet apartment. The table with tea still steaming. The television turned low, playing some old historical drama. The half-folded laundry on the couch. Xie Lian humming tunelessly to himself.

“…this is good,” Hua Cheng finished softly.

Xie Lian glanced over and smiled. “I’m glad we’re here together.”

They spent the afternoon walking through the nearby riverside park, where families had gathered for races and food stalls. Children ran underfoot with paper flags, and the air was filled with the scent of sesame, soy, grilled meat. A traditional boat race had just ended, and applause still lingered in the air like smoke. The two of them bought sugar hawthorns on skewers, and Hua Cheng let Xie Lian pick every dumpling flavor from the food stalls even when he couldn’t possibly eat them all.

Evening came with a tangerine sky, streaked with dusky clouds and the last shimmer of sunlight on the river. The scent of grilled food and spiced sweets still hung thick in the air, carried on the breeze with the laughter of children and the murmur of families settling in to watch the night celebrations.

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng stood near a small clearing in the riverside park, beside a paper lantern stall, arms brushing as they watched more lanterns being lit and released into the sky. The golden lights floated upward, silent and slow, like weightless prayers.

The moment felt still. Hua Cheng handed Xie Lian a small paper fan from a nearby vendor, its handle shaped like a dragon. Xie Lian smiled, a little bashful, and accepted it, brushing his fingers along the painted edge.

And then–

BANG

A crack. Not a soft pop, not the bloom of a firework from above, but a sharp, dry sound from the pavement only a few meters away. Like the snap of a gunshot. Too close. Too loud.

Xie Lian recoiled before he could think. He dropped the fan.

Hua Cheng reacted just as fast, body coiled and turned, one arm instinctively in front of Xie Lian, the other hand reaching for something that wasn’t there, a weapon he didn’t carry.

They spun toward the sound, hearts hammering.

It was a group of kids. Maybe ten, maybe younger. One of them had just lit a pack of ground firecrackers that was now fizzling harmlessly on the pavement. The others were shouting, laughing, clapping.

Hua Cheng exhaled sharply through his nose. His hand didn’t lower right away.

Xie Lian stood behind him, still stiff, still locked in that half-second of fight-or-flight. His eyes had gone distant, as if looking somewhere far past the children, the lanterns, the park. Somewhere not safe.

Neither of them spoke.

After a long pause, Xie Lian stooped and picked up the fallen fan, dusted it off with care.

“We should go home,” he said quietly.

Hua Cheng nodded and took his hand. They didn’t talk on the way back.

Fireworks were lit in the distance, but neither of them looked up. The festival noise faded the farther they walked, replaced by the hush of evening traffic and the soft rhythm of their shoes on pavement.

Back at the apartment, Xie Lian toed off his shoes and headed for the kitchen without a word.

“I’ll make tea,” he offered.

Hua Cheng didn’t stop him. But he lingered in the entryway, watching his retreating back. The shadows had returned to Xie Lian’s shoulders, the ones that hadn’t been there this morning when they’d tied bracelets around each other’s wrists.

Something about the quiet clung too tightly now. As Xie Lian disappeared into the kitchen, the door swinging softly closed behind him, Hua Cheng stood for a long moment in the stillness. The ghost of the firecracker still rang in his ears.

In the kitchen, the clink of porcelain echoed too sharply in the silence.

Hua Cheng sat on the edge of the couch, a painting left half-finished on the nearby table. His fingers curled over his knee, restless.

Eventually, Xie Lian emerged holding two cups of tea. He offered one out silently, and Hua Cheng took it with a grateful nod.

They sat together on the couch, their shoulders brushing. Steam rose gently between them. Neither drank right away.

A few long minutes passed, the only sounds those of their quiet breathing and the city murmuring far below. From this high up, even the occasional fireworks felt like someone else’s memory.

Xie Lian’s fingers curled lightly around Hua Cheng’s wrist, right over the thread bracelet still tied there from earlier that morning. He didn’t say anything about it. Just… held on.

When they went to bed later, the silence hadn’t lifted completely. But it had settled. Like dust, like snow.

Hua Cheng pulled the covers up and turned to find Xie Lian already facing him, eyes soft in the dark.

He didn’t ask to talk about what happened. He didn’t need to.

Xie Lian reached for him without hesitation, arms looping around Hua Cheng’s waist as if to anchor him to the moment, to the present. Hua Cheng responded in kind, pulling him in, holding him close. Like he never wanted to let go.

They didn’t say anything.

The city outside still popped and shimmered with distant celebration. But here, in the hush between heartbeats, they found something steadier. Breath syncing with breath. Arms around ribs, fingers brushing the nape of a neck, the soft weight of another body held against yours like a promise.

Eventually, Xie Lian exhaled, a long breath that trembled faintly near the end.

Hua Cheng didn’t point it out. He only pressed his lips against Xie Lian’s forehead and whispered, “I’ve got you.”

Xie Lian’s fingers tightened at his back.

And they stayed that way – wound tightly around each other – until sleep finally came, quiet and slow, like a tide coming in.

The days that followed passed gently. Nothing was said about the firecrackers, the split-second panic, or the too-quick glance they’d shared. There was no need. The silence between them was not avoidance, but understanding. They just stayed close. Present.

They cooked together more often. Took longer walks in the evening. Held hands under the table when neither of them were talking.

And eventually the memory faded.

A week later, the city had taken on the heavy warmth of early summer.

The light in the living-room had shifted.

Hua Cheng sat hunched over his canvas, brush poised mid-air, eyes narrowed in concentration. The background wash of the painting had begun to dry unevenly – he’d been working too slowly. It wasn’t like him to stall, but something about the way the father’s hand hovered near his child’s shoulder, too stiff, too posed, was bothering him.

He muttered under his breath and reached for the palette.

Then came the sound of a key in the lock. The door opened.

Hua Cheng turned his head toward the entrance of the apartment. His hand stilled.

“Gege?” he called, unsure.

“In here,” came the unmistakable voice of Xie Lian, soft and unhurried.

He checked the time without meaning to. Barely past two. Xie Lian wasn’t due back until evening.

“You’re home early,” Hua Cheng said, stepping out of the studio alcove and padding towards the entrance. His shirt was stained with thin streaks of oil paint, his dark hair tied back low and loose.

Xie Lian had just taken off his shoes, his expression casual. “I took the afternoon off,” he said.

Hua Cheng blinked. “Why?”

Xie Lian didn’t answer. Instead, he smiled vaguely, placed his bag down, and walked toward the kitchen. “I’m going to make something. Don’t come in, alright?”

That was not an answer. “…What?”

“I said,” Xie Lian repeated with forced cheer, “don’t come in.” The kitchen door swung shut behind him.

Hua Cheng stood there, squinting. This was suspicious. The last time he’d stepped into the kitchen with that exact tone of voice, he’d nearly set the rice cooker on fire trying to steam buns as a surprise.

Hua Cheng hovered outside the door for a few seconds.

“Gege?”

No response.

He opened the door a crack.

“Don’t you dare!” Xie Lian’s voice rang out, sharp as a knife.

Hua Cheng closed the door slowly, blinking. “…Okay then,” he muttered.

Back in the living-room, he tried to focus. He cleaned his brush. Stirred his paint. Tapped the jar of linseed oil. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. He painted three careful strokes and ruined one.

He couldn’t stop thinking.

Did something happen?

He tried to remember if he’d forgotten anything important. Their anniversary was months off. Not the day they met. Not Xie Lian’s birthday. No known date in particular except…

…except his birthday.

But no one should have known. He never talked about it. Never celebrated it. Most years, it slipped by unnoticed, just another day in the beginning of June. Growing up, it hadn’t meant much. In the years after, it had meant even less.

He hadn’t spoken of it in over a decade, and certainly not to Xie Lian.

But… the look on Xie Lian’s face when he’d come home, the deliberate tone, the way he’d herded Hua Cheng away from the kitchen like he was guarding state secrets.

Hua Cheng sank slowly onto his stool, a flush creeping over his ears. It didn’t make sense.

Until it did.

The police record.

Hua Cheng sighed and buried his face in his hands, half-exasperated, half-affectionate. Of course he had searched for his birthday date. Of course he had remembered it.