Chapter Text
The air in the cavernous court building was thick enough to taste—a humid cocktail of sweat, expensive perfume, and the electric tang of anticipation. Every inch was packed; seasoned crime reporters elbowed vapid fashion bloggers draped in garish colors, all united by the gravitational pull of the trial of the decade. The police had prepared for a circus, but this was a full-blown siege. The Minister of Defense himself had been forced to deploy additional units, their stern faces forming a grim, blue barrier against the seething tide of humanity.
The façade, usually austere, was adorned by the frenzied energy of a dozen news crews, eager to capture each moment of the high-profile trial about to unfold within its walls.
Through the choked, heavily-secured arteries of the city, one vessel moved with impossible grace. A Rolls-Royce Phantom, black and silent as a shark, glided past checkpoints. Not a single hand was raised to stop it; not a second of inspection was wasted. It was as if the gentleman in the rear seat held the keys to every gate, including the ones leading to heaven itself.
The car halted at the epicenter of the chaos, purring to a stop directly before the entrance's staircase. Two mountain-like bodyguards emerged first, their eyes scanning the crowd with cold, professional disinterest. Then he appeared.
Gao Tu was vividly thinner than the paparazzi photos suggested, a blade of a man sheathed in a suit that cost more than the car that brought him. He couldn't have been more than thirty-five, but an aura of absolute ownership settled around him.
Observers gasped as an elusive shimmer danced on his wrist, a diamond-laden watch that some estimated could save entire villages from starvation.
The head of the police unit gave a sharp, almost imperceptible nod. The human barricade parted for him without a word. The lawyer’s sharp, calculating gaze swept over the crowd as he ascended the stairs, flanked by police escorting him in rather than keeping him out.
"Hey! Why is he allowed in, but not us?" a young journalist shouted, his voice cracking with entitlement. "My father is one of the wealthiest men in this country!" He tried to surge forward, to follow the path of privilege, but a policeman's firm shove sent him stumbling back.
An older, wearier hand caught him. "Stop it, you fool," the veteran reporter hissed, pulling him away.
"That's Gao Tu. Guowang Gang's lawyer." The name alone drained the color from the younger man's face. The older man leaned closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper.
"And rumors are he's dating Shen Wen Lang, one of the two heads of the gang. They didn't just bribe the architects; Guowang Gang basically built this courthouse with their money."
The journalist didn't need further explanation. Everyone knew. This trial was for Xu Song, the fallen dragon. For twenty years, he had been the shadow president of P'nation, the head of the Dragon Gang that held the country in its talons. Then, four years ago, he fell, replaced and demolished by the fiercer, more ruthless Guowang Gang…. Fifty guilty verdicts. A legacy erased. And every few months, like clockwork, a new hearing, a sliver of "new evidence" that promised freedom. And every time, Gao Tu ensured it amounted to nothing.
They both watched in silence as the lawyer glided through the doors, an honor guard of policemen now flanking his personal bodyguards, a perfect metaphor for the state's capitulation.
"Is Xu Song here yet?" Gao Tu asked, not bothering to look at the chief of court security walking beside him.
"Yes, sir. Transferred early this morning, before the crowds," the man replied, his voice tight with a mix of respect and fear.
Gao Tu gave a curt nod and proceeded into the courtroom. This was a private hearing, but every eye in the room, judges, clerks, the nine strong defense team tracked his movement to the front row. The defendant's side had lawyers but no family. Xu Song's son had vanished into the wind the day his father was arrested, knowing his name was a death warrant.
Gao Tu sat, impervious to the stares. The ritual was tedious. They would dance their legal dance, poke at procedural holes, present their pathetic pawn for Xu Song’s freedom. It never mattered… The outcome was engraved in stone, courtesy of Judge Ju, the head of the supreme court, a loyal, well-paid employee of the Guowang Gang. Gao Tu was here for one reason only: to watch the hope drain from Xu Song's face one more time…
The lawyer’s phone buzzed. A single text from Shen Wen Lang.
(Let’s meet today after the ruling... Just you and me).
A gentle, private smile touched Gao Tu's lips, a stark contrast to the cold marble of his expression. It was a glimpse of the man behind the monster he displayed to the world… Among everyone in the gang Gao Tu was the most tender.
(I look forward to it. You have been making me nervous for some days now...)
He sent the message just as the heavy oak doors at the side of the chamber creaked open. The room fell utterly silent.
Then, Xu Song was brought in.
He was a husk of the man who had once held P’nation in a chokehold. The legendary Dragon, now shackled and gaunt, his prison uniform hanging loosely on his skeletal frame. Yet, as he shuffled to the defendant's table, his eyes, sunken and shadowed, scanned the room. They still held a flicker of the old fire, a burning ember of defiance in the ash heap of his life. His gaze swept past his nine lawyers a desperate, expensive assembly of the country's finest legal minds and landed squarely on Gao Tu.
There was no surprise in his eyes, only a deep, simmering hatred that had been stewing for four long years. Gao Tu met his stare, his expression unreadable, offering a slow, almost imperceptible nod. It was not a greeting, but an acknowledgement of a long-finished war. I am here. I am watching you fail again.
"All rise," The bailiff's voice boomed.
The murmur in the room swelled. The judge was entering. With a practiced, respectful air, Gao Tu rose to his feet. The performance required his participation.
But his rehearsed deference faltered. The man ascending the podium was not the familiar, corpulent figure of Judge Ju. He was younger, with a sharp, severe face and eyes that scanned the room without a trace of subservience.
A cold wire of alarm tightened in Gao Tu’s chest. He turned to the court clerk beside him, his voice a low, razor-sharp command that brooked no evasion.
“Where’s Judge Ju?” Gao Tu turned to the clerk beside him, the worry coiling within him like a serpent.
“He was found dead in his house this morning,” the clerk replied, a pallor of disbelief using curse upon his face.
For a fraction of a second, the universe seemed to stutter for Gao Tu. The gentle warmth from Shen Wen Lang’s text message evaporated, replaced by an arctic chill that crawled up his spine. His mask of languid indifference, so carefully crafted over years, remained perfectly in place. His posture didn't shift, his hand holding the phone didn't tremble, but inside, a symphony of alarm bells began to shriek. Their guaranteed checkmate was gone.
….Something was wrong.
Xu Song, sensing the shift, chuckled darkly from his seat.
~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~
The violin rhythm echoed through the halls of the school's walls, a hauntingly beautiful melody that seemed to seep into the very marble and glass of the ostentatious building…. Mendelssohn op 64, played as if Ferdinand David was the one holding the violin himself, a performance of such technical brilliance and raw soul that it silenced the world outside the practice room.
Behind the soundproofed glass door, a girl named Mei watched, captivated. The musician was a living portrait, a masterpiece sketched by a French impressionist. His long, slim frame was draped in the school's tailored uniform, his posture perfect. Eyelashes, impossibly long, cast faint shadows on his high cheekbones as he focused on his craft. His fingers, slender and pale, moved with a fluid grace over the fingerboard of the most extraordinary instrument Mei had ever seen. It was a violin seemingly spun from golden-framed glass, and where the maker’s name would be, his own was inlaid in glittering diamonds… Hua Yong. An extravagant gift from his parents, she assumed, but in a place like their International Academy, it was merely a Tuesday. Here, wealth wasn’t just spoken; it was worn, driven, and played. Gold and diamonds were a normality rather than a luxury. And Hua Yong was the undisputed apex of this gilded pyramid.
"That's enough, A-Yong," the teacher’s voice, soft with reverence, broke the spell. Hua Yong’s bow stilled, and he gently placed the glass instrument upon its velvet rest. "I was leaning towards Vivaldi's The Four Seasons, but I feel your soul in this one more. So, it's finalized. You can play it for your college tryouts next month."
"Mmm.." the younger male replied, the sound a low hum of assent. He offered a small, perfect bow, a ghost of a satisfied smile touching his lips. Just then, the final bell of the day chimed "Have a great weekend," Hua Yong said, his voice as smooth and cool as polished stone. He gave a deeper bow this time before packing his priceless violin into a carbon-fiber case, the latches clicking shut with quiet finality.
Mei’s heart hammered against her ribs. It was now or never. As he stepped into the corridor, she darted after him. "Aaa... Hua Yong!"
He paused, turning his head just enough to acknowledge her. His eyes, dark and unreadable, held a detached curiosity. Mei’s hands, trembling slightly, extended a small, hand-woven bracelet of blue and silver thread. "I made you this. I hope it brings you luck on your..."
"Not interested."
The words were blades of ice, delivered without malice but with absolute disinterest. He didn't even attempt to sound apologetic. He simply turned and continued down the long, sun-drenched hallway, his shadow stretching long behind him. He hadn't given the bracelet, or her, a second glance.
"Wait..." Mei took a hopeful step forward, only to be stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder.
"That's enough, Mei." It was a girl from her literature class. She offered a sympathetic grimace. "He is already taken. You are just new here, so you wouldn't know. Why do you think no one dares to approach the ice prince of the school?"
Mei’s gaze followed Hua Yong's retreating form. "But I haven't seen him with anyone here. Is she from another school?"
The girl let out a short, sarcastic laugh. "She's not in any school. Or even a she. He's dating the Sheng Shao-you."
The name hung in the air, heavy and dangerous. Mei had heard it whispered in news reports and hushed conversations among the city's powerful families. "The head of the Guowang Gang?" Her eyes widened. It sounded like a plot from a trashy web novel, too dramatic to be real. A delicate artist and a ruthless crime lord.
"The one and only," She confirmed, steering her towards the school's grand exit.
"How can his parents ever agree to this?" Mei snarled, the entire situation seeming absurd. Hua Yong exuded old money, the picture of refined breeding, a delicate prodigy nurtured in wealth and high society, his every mannerism screamed a life born with a platinum spoon.. What twisted fate could possibly entangle him with a ruthless gangster?
"A-Yong is an orphan" the girl explained, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "And the duckling didn't really fall far from its nest. His half-brother is Shen Wenlang, Guowang Gang's second head. It's only natural for them to be together... Anyone else is an outsider."
Mei leaned closer. "But Sheng Shao-you must be so much older than him! Hua Yong is a minor, that’s illegal!"
The female student shrugged, a gesture of weary acceptance. "Nothing about their business is legal, why would this small detail bother them?" She smirked. "But don't worry your pretty little head. Hua Yong only officially started dating him after he turned eighteen some months ago. Sheng Shao-you might have a reputation that could curdle milk, but he's ridiculously considerate with our school's prince. Besides, illegal business aside, both of them come from a decently wealthy background".
They watched from the top of the marble steps as Hua Yong stood by the curb. His usual ride was always waiting half an hour before the bell, a silent, loyal sentinel. But today, the space was empty. A flicker of something annoyance, perhaps crossed Hua Yong’s perfect features. He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen.
Just then, the squeal of performance tires cut through the quiet afternoon. A silver Bugatti La Voiture Noire, swept into the driveway and purred to a stop directly in front of him. The glacial facade on Hua Yong's face didn't just crack; it melted entirely, replaced by a smile so radiant and genuine it was breathtaking.
The driver's door opened, and Sheng Shao-you stepped out. He was dressed in a simple, perfectly tailored black shirt and black trousers, a stark and intimidating silhouette against the car's liquid-silver body. He was older, his presence radiating an aura of absolute power and contained danger.
"You're late," Hua Yong teased, his voice losing its cool edge and gaining a warm, playful lilt. "Chang Yu is always on time." He closed the distance between them in three steps, burying his face in the older man's chest and wrapping his arms around his waist, violin case and all.
They didn’t care about the eyes watching from the steps. They didn't care about the dozens of students watching, mouths agape. They never did. The supreme court of the country wasn’t the only thing the Guowang Gang had built after all. Both Shao-you and Wenlang had funded this building, accommodating the best architects and tutors, even importing fortunes worth of exotic flora to create the most perfect educational environment for the young male… No one would dare to react.
Shao-you's hand came up to stroke Hua Yong’s silky black hair, his expression, so often a mask of cold authority, softening into one of deep affection. "I'll make sure to make it up to you," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Now, get in."
He opened the passenger door, guiding Hua Yong inside as if he were handling the most fragile piece of art in the world. As the silver Bugatti pulled away, leaving a trail of awed silence, Mei finally lowered her hand. The small, handmade bracelet felt foolish and childish. She now understood. Hua Yong wasn’t an ice prince waiting for a princess to melt his heart. He was a rare, priceless Stradivarius himself that had already found its case.
Inside the cocoon of leather and carbon fiber, Hua Yong rested his head on Shao-you’s shoulder. “So,” he began, a playful lilt in his voice, “Why did my incredibly busy boyfriend break protocol and pick me up from school today?” He knew something was up. For days, Shao-you and his brother had been moving with a quiet, intense purpose, and he had been deliberately excluded.
Shao-you chuckled, a sound like shifting gravel. He could read the boy as easily as a sheet of music. For all his delicate looks, Hua Yong possessed a terrifyingly sharp intellect; he wasn't a damsel to be sheltered from everything.
“I would tell you,” Shao-you admitted, surrendering instantly. The same man who had once endured days of torture at the hands of a rival gang without giving up a single name couldn't withstand a moment of playful curiosity from the boy beside him. “But you will have to act surprised when you’re told. Your brother wants to propose to Gao Tu after the trial today.”
A flutter of pure joy stirred in Hua Yong’s chest, and his smile widened. After his parents’ murder when he was thirteen, Wenlang, ten years older, had instantly become both brother and father. He’d shouldered immense responsibility far too young. The thought of his stoic, serious brother finally finding a slice of personal happiness felt like a victory. “That’s good,” he murmured, rubbing his cheek against Shao-you’s shoulder. Shao-you responded by leaning his own head against Hua Yong’s.
They drove in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the city blurring past them. Then, the atmosphere in the car shifted, becoming sharp and cold.
“Hua Yong,” Shao-you said, his voice stripped of all warmth.
“Hmm?” Hua Yong sat up, instantly on alert.
“Hold steady. I think we’re being followed.”
Hua Yong’s hand instinctively tightened on his seatbelt. His eyes darted to the side mirror. A sleek, black muscle car, low and menacing, was mirroring their every move, keeping a steady distance. This wasn’t the first time, but it had been years since anyone had been so bold to attack them.
Shao-you yanked the wheel, executing a sharp, unsignaled turn down a side street. The black car followed without hesitation. He took another, then another, weaving through traffic with a brutal efficiency that sent other cars scattering. The pursuer stuck to them like a shadow. Shao-you glanced at Hua Yong. The boy’s face was pale, his knuckles white, but his expression was resolute. Still, Shao-you’s own heart was pounding, a cold dread coiling in his gut. It was one thing to face danger alone; it was another entirely with Hua Yong beside him.
“Call Shen Wenlang,” He commanded the car’s integrated system. A second later, the call was connected, Wenlang’s voice filling the cabin.
“Shao-you, I was just about to call you…”
“Wenlang! We’re being followed,” Shao-you cut him off, his voice tight. “Southern part of the city, near Sycamore Road. Send the nearest unit.” He floored the accelerator, the Bugatti’s engine screaming in protest as it launched forward. “I’m heading for the mountain road. Tell them to hurry. Hua Yong is with me.” He added the last part unnecessarily but instinctively. Wenlang would move heaven and earth for him, but the mention of his brother’s name would add wings of fire to his dispatch.
A beat of static-filled silence, then Wenlang’s voice, raw with panic. “Shao-you… Xu Song was released from prison five minutes ago!”
The name struck them both like a physical blow. The air in the car turned to ice.
“I will send the unit,” Wenlang’s voice was frantic. “Hell, I will send five. Get back to the safe house. I’m picking up Gao Tu and heading there now.” He hung up.
Shao-you’s lips pressed into a thin, hard line. His hand shot to the dashboard, pressing a hidden button. A compartment slid open, revealing a pair of matte-black pistols.
“Shao-you…” Hua Yong’s voice was barely a whisper. For the first time in years, he was truly, deeply worried, they hadn’t needed to use their guns in forever that it felt alien now.
The gangster sensed it immediately. His gaze softened for a fraction of a second. “It’s okay, A-Yong,” he said, his voice a low promise. “I’ve got you.” All he had to do was buy time, and if they’re lucky enough, they wouldn’t need to use it”.
He swerved onto the winding access road that led up the mountain. It was a calculated risk, fewer witnesses, but also fewer escape routes. As they rounded the first hairpin turn, the situation became terrifyingly clear. It wasn't one car anymore. One had become two, then three, appearing from hidden turn-offs as if summoned from the earth itself. They were being herded.
Thankfully, no one was shooting, though it hardly mattered. The La Voiture Noire was fully armored. The psychological game, however, was escalating. The cars flanked them, boxing them in on the narrow two-lane road. The attackers were savoring this, trying to instill terror. Despite his iron composure, Shao-you was fighting a rising tide of panic, not for his life, but for the precious cargo beside him.
Minutes stretched into an eternity. Then, the car to their left deliberately swerved, slamming into their side with a deafening screech of protesting metal. It was Hua Yong’s side. Shao-you instinctively jerked the wheel, mitigating the impact, but the jolt still threw them violently.
Hua Yong bit back a scream, his knuckles white as he gripped the seat. He refused to distract Shao-you, refused to be a liability. The impacts came again, harder this time, from the left, then again… a brutal, rhythmic assault. He took the gun from the older male’s hand, attempting to aim for the wheel of the car next to him.
“No! Come here,” Shao-you ordered, his eyes never leaving the road. He unbuckled Hua Yong’s seatbelt with one hand and pulled the boy across the center console and onto his lap. Hua Yong tried to protest at first, but Sheng’s hand buried his face into his chest, Hua clutched his shirt as the car behind them slammed into their rear bumper, the heavy shunt from behind that wasn’t quite strong enough to deploy the airbags. The attacks were relentless, designed to disorient and terrify.
Shao-you drove with a desperate, controlled fury, finally finding a gap, a momentary reprieve. He spun the car into a gravel turnout, the vehicle screeching to a halt in a cloud of dust. He was out in a second, pulling Hua Yong out of the passenger side and shoving him behind his own body, a pistol in each hand. Hua Yong was good at using guns, but Shao-you was still better, both guns in his hands was the better plan.
A moment later, the three black cars screeched to a halt, forming a semi-circle around them. Six men climbed out, armed and grim-faced. From the lead car, another figure emerged, stepping forward with a wide, chilling smile. It was Xu Song’s son.
"Sheng Shao-you," Xu Kai's voice was a low, guttural growl, carrying easily in the stillness. He savored the name, letting it roll off his tongue like a curse. "It's been too long, hasn't it? My father sends his regards."
~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~
The courthouse was a roiling sea of chaos, worse than even that morning’s circus. Shen Wenlang’s sharp eyes scanned the scene, missing nothing. The fleet of black SUVs protecting the Dragon Gang’s head was expected, but the men flanking them were not. They were strangers to P’nation, foreign muscle with cold, professional eyes. Their own gang, his gang, was a swarm of hornets, navigating, searching, and investigating. The air was thick with betrayal. If Xu Song was out, it meant a legion of handshakes had been false. They needed to find the traitors, administer punishment, and fortify their own walls—all at once.
The plan had been a masterstroke, and that terrified him. They’d been outmaneuvered, taken completely by surprise. His orders crackled over the comms: “Protect our store rooms, our assets, our territories. Hold the line until Shao-you arrives.” His voice was a blade, cold and sharp.
The lawyer had begged him to go directly to their home, but Shen had insisted on picking him up himself. It was the only way. The Dragon Gang might have painted targets on his own back and Sheng’s, but Gao Tu was at the very top of their hit list. He was the one who had put Xu Song away.
“Where are you?” Shen hissed into his phone, the car inching forward despite the vehicles clearing a path through the throng.
“I have just left the courtroom,” Gao Tu’s voice was tense, barely audible over the cacophony behind him. “One of the policemen said some reporters managed to get in from the backdoor. It’s very chaotic here.”
Shen bit his lip, the coppery taste of fear sharp on his tongue. Reporters from the back? With this level of security? The coincidence was a lie. It was a setup. “Gao Tu, give the phone to your bodyguard.”
A pause, then a new, deeper voice. “Mr. Shen?”
"Protect him with your lives! Make sure no one gets close to him!" Shen roared, overriding any semblance of calm. He heard his vehicle screech to a halt outside the courthouse. He didn't wait for his escorts, throwing himself out of the car and charging towards the building, his bodyguards scrambling to keep pace.
The plaza was a swirling vortex of humanity. Everyone was walking with a desperate urgency, yet seemed to be going nowhere at all, shoving, pushing, each individual a threat in the unfolding chaos. Shen’s height afforded him a slight advantage; he scanned the churning mass for a glimpse of the lawyer. After what felt like an eternity, he spotted Gao Tu.
He plowed through the crowd, heedless of his own safety, driven by a primal need to reach the lawyer. He finally broke through, planting himself firmly in front of Gao Tu. "You're safe!" He pulled him into a fierce embrace, finally able to draw a shaky breath. "You shouldn't have come!"
Gao Tu, letting himself be enveloped, managed a weak smile, planting a fleeting kiss on Shen's lips. "Let's get out of here," Shen instructed, his arm a protective shield around the lawyer.
He never saw it coming.
He felt a sudden, sharp shove from the side, unexpected and deliberate. He turned, his hand instinctively reaching for his weapon.
The face was unfamiliar, young, and radiating a disturbingly triumphant glee. "Xu Song says hi!" The man waved, and Shen's gaze dropped to the glinting object in the stranger’s hand…a bloodied knife.
For a heartbeat, Shen's mind refused to process what he was seeing. He felt a hot, sticky wetness spreading across his hand, soaking into his suit. He whirled around, his heart seizing in his chest, to find Gao Tu struggling to stay upright, his eyes wide with shock and dawning horror.
"No..." The word escaped Shen's lips, a choked whisper lost in the roar of the crowd. He felt Gao Tu's weight collapsing against him, his body going limp. The world tilted, the screams faded, and all Shen could see was the crimson stain blooming on Gao Tu's chest….