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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….

Chapter Text

"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."

Shao-you didn't flinch, but the air around him changed, tightening like a coil. He could feel the reactive tremor that ran through the younger male behind him, a live wire of panic and rage. In one fluid, desperate motion, Hua Yong snatched the pistol from Shao-you's hand. The click of the safety being disengaged was obscenely loud.

All at once, the day erupted with the sound of multiple hammers being cocked. Kai’s bodyguards, the semicircle of sharp suits and sharper eyes raised their weapons, a constellation of deadly black barrels all centered on the boy.

"Hua Yong!"

Shao-you’s voice was a whip-crack of command, but his actions were pure protection. He pivoted, his larger frame enveloping Hua Yong’s slimmer one in a fierce embrace, shielding him from the dozen potential points of impact. He could feel the frantic beat of Hua Yong’s heart against his own chest. He tried to pry the gun from his boyfriend’s hand, but the younger man’s grip was iron, fueled by a white-hot fury Shao-you could scarcely comprehend.

Kai merely smiled, a predator amused by the scrabble of its prey. He took a deliberate step forward, closing the distance until the barrel of the gun was almost touching his own impeccably tailored suit.

"My oh my," Kai crooned, his eyes glinting with malicious delight. "You're Hua Yong. You have grown up so much." He tilted his head, a mockery of nostalgia. "Last time I saw you, you were just a little thing, crying next to your mom's corpse."

Hua Yong’s breath hitched; a ragged, broken sound against Shao-you’s shoulder.

Kai licked his lips, the gesture slow and obscene. "Such a shame I had to kill her. She tasted so good."

A choked sound, half-sob, half-growl, escaped Hua Yong's throat. His finger tightened on the trigger, his entire body shaking violently. The world narrowed to the leering face before him, the face that haunted his nightmares once.

Kai’s smile widened, feeding on the boy’s agony. "But it seems like you will taste even better…"

A sickening crack echoed in the enclosed street. Kai stumbled back several steps, a spray of blood and saliva erupting from his mouth. He spat a tooth onto the asphalt, a grim little pearl under the halogen lights. Shao-you stood where Kai had been moments before, his fist still clenched. The protective calm was gone, replaced by a glacial fury that made the air itself seem to crackle. He now held both his own gun and the one he'd finally wrested from the student, his eyes carrying daggers. He pushed Yong further behind him. "Back off."

Kai laughed, a wet, bloody sound. "Bold of you to order me, Mr. Sheng." He raised his arms in a gesture of mock surrender, gesturing to his men. "You're a little outnumbered."

As if on cue, the night roared to life. The screech of tires tore through the silence as a dozen black sedans converged on the street from both ends, their headlights pinning Kai and his men in an inescapable web of cars. Doors flew open and men in sharp suits poured out, led by Shao-you’s right-hand, Pinming. They moved with silent, deadly efficiency, forming a perimeter. "Mr. Sheng!" Pinming’s voice was a firm assurance. The cavalry had arrived.

The power dynamic had reversed in an instant.

Kai wiped his bloody mouth with the back of his hand, his smirk never wavering. "Relax, Shao-you. If I wanted you or little Yong dead, I would have done it on the open road. It's too early to get rid of the king in our chessboard game." He met Shao-you's gaze, a flicker of something that might have been sincerity in his dark eyes. "I was just saying hi to my old friend. Making sure he knows I'm back." With a final, lingering look at Hua Yong, Kai turned and walked casually back to his car, his men parting for him like water around a stone.

Shao-you’s men kept their guns trained on him, but their leader gave a curt, almost imperceptible signal. They lowered their weapons. The game had rules, and tonight’s move was over.

As Kai’s car disappeared into the night, the adrenaline faded, leaving a hollow, ringing silence. Shao-you turned to Hua Yong. The boy’s head was bowed, his shoulders slumped, the fight drained out of him, leaving only the raw, gaping wound of his past. The gangaster reached out, grabbing the back of his head gently and pulling him forward until Yong’s face was buried in his chest. He pressed a kiss to his hair, feeling the tremors that still wracked the teenager’s frame. The stench of Kai's cruelty hung in the air, and for a moment, Shao-you, a male of a thousand words, could find none to aid the teenager.

"Pinming" He said, his voice flat and cold, his arms still a protective circle around the student. "Ask someone to drive my car back." He lowered his head, his lips brushing against the younger male's ear. "A'Yong, let's go home."

The teenager only offered a slight nod against his chest. The gangster kept a firm arm around him, leading him to the backseat of the lead car.

Shao-you didn’t try to speak. He simply took Yong’s hand, his thumb stroking gentle circles over his knuckles.

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

The smell of iron and antiseptic clung to the air, a nauseating cocktail that did little to cut through the fog of dread in Shen Wenlang’s mind. He sat silently on the plush leather couch in the waiting area of their private clinic, a ghost in his own fortress. His hands, resting limply on his knees, were still painted with the drying, cracking crimson of Gao Tu’s blood. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even blinked away the horrifying image seared onto the back of his eyelids: Gao Tu’s surprised gasp, the blossom of red on his crisp white shirt, the way he’d collapsed into Wenlang’s arms like a marionette with its strings cut.

His eyes, cold and dark as a winter lake, remained fixed on the frosted glass doors of the operating room. He watched the frantic ballet of silhouettes, doctors and nurses running for almost thirty minutes, their movements sharp and urgent. He saw them searching for matching blood bags, for specific surgical tools. A primal fear, an emotion he hadn't truly felt for years, coiled in his gut. Yet, a sliver of his rational mind, the part that had built this empire, acknowledged the preparedness. He and Sheng Shao-you, had ensured their mansion, the main bastion of the Guowang Gang, was an impenetrable, self-sufficient world.

A total of four buildings in the vast garden, surrounded by highly secured fences.

The main house for their own dwelling uses. A monument to their power and taste, with opulent living quarters, a commercial-grade kitchen, a gym, a private cinema, and their respective offices. It even housed Hua Yong's personal, soundproof practice room for his music, and a grand hall capable of hosting five hundred guests for events that were more about projecting strength than celebration.

A more modest building housed their sixty servants, butlers, maids, gardeners, and chefs, the silent cogs that kept the machine of their lives running smoothly.

A dwelling place for a total of seventy men. Led by the right hand man of Wenlang and Shaoyou. Forty designed to protect the vast manor while twenty were serving as shadow guards and backup, and finally the ten heads of their ten territories in the country.

And then there was this building, the small hospital. It was staffed with twenty of the best medical personnel money could poach, eight doctors specializing in everything from surgery to toxicology, six nurses, and six administrative staff. Every soul living on the compound had their medical history contained within these walls, a secret kept as fiercely as any other. No one was a ghost in the national system; they simply didn't exist in it.

Wenlang’s train of thought was shattered as he watched a nurse hurry past with another blood bag. The third one. His throat tightened. The third bag was a bad sign. He desperately wanted to stand up, to grab one of the doctors by their scrubs and demand answers, but he was paralyzed. The fear that his interruption, even for a second, could cost Gao Tu his life was a physical weight pressing him into the couch. He tried to read the faces of the medical team through the glass, but their professional masks were unreadable. They seemed focused, not panicked, but he couldn't be sure if that was the truth or just his own desperate hope painting a prettier picture.

“Ge!”

The soft voice cut through his trance. His head snapped to the side. Hua Yong stood there, his young face etched with worry. In his agitation, Wenlang hadn't even thought to notify him. Worse, he'd completely forgotten to check on him and Shao-you. Hua Yong’s eyes widened at the sight of Wenlang’s hands.

“What happened?” Hua Yong rushed forward, taking one of Wenlang’s blood-caked hands into his own warm, clean ones. He didn’t seem to care about the blood, his immediate concern was for his brother. He began examining Wenlang thoroughly, searching for a wound, his touch gentle but frantic. “Are you hurt?”

Wenlang just shook his head, the motion stiff and mechanical.

From a distance, Shao-you watched, his sharp gaze piecing together the narrative. For now, he was pragmatic where Wenlang was emotional. While his heart clenched at the sight of his partner, he didn't wait for emotion to dictate his actions. He strode towards the operating room doors, his presence radiating an authority that parted the staff like the sea.

“I need a report on the case in thirty seconds,” He commanded, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable edge of steel.

And thirty seconds it was. The surgeon himself emerged, pulling off his mask, his face tired but composed. He could have sent a nurse, but he knew who he was dealing with. He knew it was better to deliver the news himself.

“The stab wasn’t fatal,” the surgeon began, getting straight to the point. “And I don’t believe it was luck. The blade entered the rare side of the chest, missing the lung and heart. It wasn't driven deep. The damage was calculated, not lethal. The primary problem was the blood loss. He lost about thirty percent of his total volume, which is what caused him to lose consciousness. We’ve administered two units of blood and are stabilizing him. His wound required seven stitches, but the procedure was a success. He is stable.”

The air rushed back into Wenlang’s lungs, a ragged, painful gasp. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly. “Is he in pain now?” His voice was a raw, broken thing, and both Shao-you and Hua Yong could hear the universe of agony contained within that simple question.

The doctor, well aware of the lawyer’s importance to the gang’s boss, answered with reassuring professionalism. “We’ve administered a strong dose of painkillers intravenously. The pain will be managed and should decrease rapidly over the next few days. It will likely be gone entirely within three weeks.” He paused, then added, seeing the look on Wenlang’s face, “He’s resting. He won’t feel a thing for hours.”

Shao-you gave a sharp nod. “Move him to the main mansion. To Mr. Shen’s room.”

The surgeon nodded in understanding. "Of course."

Shao-you placed a firm hand on Wenlang’s shoulder. “He’s fine now, Wenlang. He’s going to be fine.”

The relief was a tidal wave, but right behind it, crashing with devastating force, was the rage. Wenlang's gaze, which had been fixed on the operating room, now turned inward, replaying the moment of the attack. His eyes began to flicker, the deep black igniting with a dangerous, cold light.

“He was stabbed between my arms, Shao-you,” he whispered, the words trembling with a fury so profound it was almost silent. “He was in my arms.” He lifted his head, his expression now a mask of chilling resolve. “I want the man who did this dead. Today.”

Hua Yong, sensing the storm, moved forward and wrapped his arms around his older brother. For a moment, Shen Wenlang, the feared leader of the Guowang Gang, melted into the embrace, letting his younger brother anchor him. When Hua Yong pulled back, Shao-you stepped in, his mind already calculating, planning.

“A’Yong, let’s go back to our room,” Shao-you said softly, guiding the teenager away gently. His eyes met Wenlang’s over Hua Yong’s shoulder. The message was clear: I’ll handle the teenager, you handle yourself. He then addressed Wenlang directly. “Stay with Gao Tu. Let him see you the moment he wakes. We’ll meet in my office in two hours.”

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

Hua Yong walked out of the shower, only a towel flanking his thin waist and his boxers clinging lightly to his hips. Steam still clung to the air, softening the harsh edges of their opulent room. His eyes found Shao-you on the couch, the glow of a laptop screen illuminating his sharp, handsome features. He was a whirlwind of controlled energy, fingers flying across the tablet connected to the computer.

The teenager pressed his lips into a thin line. The lines etched around Shao-you's eyes were deeper than usual, a clear sign of the stress eating him from the inside out. "How can a good day end up so terribly?" He muttered, throwing his body dramatically onto the plush king-sized bed. His gaze drifted upwards, catching the intricate web of the crystal chandelier on the ceiling. It was a beautiful, pointless extravagance... The kind you can always explore like the first time no matter how many times you have glanced it.

His reverie was soon interrupted. Shao-you’s face, sharp and serious, invaded his field of vision. He felt himself being gently tugged into a sitting position. "It will be fine," Shao-you said, his voice a low rumble. "You don't need to get sick as a plus." He added sarcastically, his fingers already working, meticulously buttoning the satin shirt of Hua Yong's pajama set.

Shao-you stepped back, taking a long, assessing look at the younger man. He was breathtaking, even rumpled and damp. Hua Yong, however, was focused on something else entirely. His heart twisted with a familiar blend of fear and tenderness. Shao-you was dressed in one of his newly acquired tuxedos, a custom-made piece from a renowned designer. One of the ones he would wear to flex absolute dominance…

"You're going out again?" The question was simple, but it thrummed with unspoken anxieties. He was asking if Shao-you was going to wade back into the viper's nest of gang warfare, to handle the dangerous situation that had suddenly erupted. His eyes, usually bright and mischievous, were pleading with Shao-you to stay.

Shao-you sighed, his gaze softening. He understood the silent plea. "Wenlang is in no place to attend to these affairs, not after… this." He trailed off, avoiding a direct mention of the recent incident with Gao Tu. "And we can't let this pass smoothly. In this world, if people know someone slapped you and you let them be, then everyone would line up to slap you too." He leaned down, gently cupping Hua Yong's face and kissing his lips, a brief, reassuring touch. "And I can't let that happen, not when you're around."

Hua Yong nodded slowly, understanding but not entirely reassured. He knew the brutal realities of their world, the ruthless power struggles that governed their lives. He knew that weakness was an invitation for exploitation.

"I think it's better if you skip school for the next couple of days until we understand more of the situation," Shao-you continued, his gaze unwavering. "I will ask Wenlang to call your school tomorrow."

"I figured..." Hua Yong confessed quietly. He was no stranger to danger, no naive bystander caught in the crossfire of gang warfare. He had been living in this dark and treacherous world for years, even before he had started dating Shao-you, before his brother had teamed up with him to build the country's most powerful and ruthless gang. His own family had been a part of this world, until they were mercilessly eliminated by the Dragon Gang five years ago. He had learned to adapt, to survive, to anticipate the next threat. He was well-versed in the necessary precautions.

Hua Yong slowly climbed back into bed, careful not to add any more pressure to the already heavy burden Shao-you carried. It was another lesson he had learned from experience, the importance of not being a liability, of not adding to the weight. He buried his head in the soft pillows, the scent of Shao-you lingering on the fabric.

"Don't break my heart, Shao-you," he added casually, burying his head in the soft pillow, his voice muffled.

Shao-you gave a small, weary laugh. He knelt beside the bed and reached out, pushing a stray strand of hair away from Hua Yong's forehead. "When you wake up tomorrow morning," he murmured, his breath warm against his skin, "I will be next to you, arms wrapped around that little, tiny waist of yours."

The gangster stayed with Hua Yong until his eyes were shut, gentle breaths evening out his chest.

He stood, the movement fluid and silent, and shrugged on the blazer of his bespoke tuxedo. The fine wool settled over his shoulders like a shroud, transforming him. The man who had been murmuring reassurances into Hua Yong’s hair was gone. In his place stood The Sheng Shao-you, head of the Guowang gang.

The walk to his office was a solid five minutes through the labyrinthine corridors of the vats house. Wenlang was already there, a silhouette against the panoramic window overlooking the city's glittering sprawl. He didn't turn as Shao-you entered. The soft clink of porcelain was the only greeting as Wenlang poured the steaming herbal tea.

"Is Gao Tu awake?" Shao-you's tone was sharper now, honed to a razor's edge. The sweet, hushed voice spared just for Hua Yong was locked away, replaced by the cold and dangerous aura.

Wenlang’s hand stilled on the teapot. “He woke for a couple of minutes. Clearly still in pain. I asked him to get back to rest and left.” He bit his lip, a rare, unguarded flicker of anguish crossing his features. “I couldn’t stay.”

Sheng gave a single, slow nod. Of course, he couldn’t. He understood that particular agony too well, the desperate need to protect warring with the helplessness of seeing your most cherished person in pain. God forbid if anything like this ever happened to Hua Yong, Shao-you knew the city would burn, but Shen Wenlang was far more rational with his methods.

"I asked Pinming to find the attacker like you wanted," The younger male said, his voice regaining its steel. "We obtained the footage from the supreme court, every face... he told me it took them a while, but they managed to get it." He extended a tablet, the screen glowing in the dim office. A face stared back at him, smirking, arrogant, nondescript. A face Wenlang would never forget. His hand tightened on the device, the memory of that sickly smile flashing in his mind as the blade slid into Gao Tu's side. His blood boiled. "And who the fuck is he?"

Shao-you moved to the small table before his desk, pulling out a black Treasure London cigarette from a polished golden case. "Underground gang," He said, the flick of his lighter cutting a small, fierce flame in the darkness. He lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply. "One of ours, actually. But lower than the lower bottom of our pyramid." A dry, mirthless laugh escaped his lips, a wisp of smoke curling with it. "The type that would lick the streets after we walk on them with our shoes."

Wenlang’s eyes narrowed, the pieces clicking into place. "And of course, the rats thought they had nothing to lose when they were offered a larger piece of the cheese."

"Precisely," Shao-you confirmed, tapping ash into a crystal tray. "The man is already dead. About twenty minutes ago. The head of his gang should be here soon. He's all yours, Wenlang. Just make sure it's bad enough to make those who hear the story terrified. Make them wet their beds at night."

The older male understood the assignment perfectly; their partnership was a symphony of silent understanding forged over years of blood and ambition. The attacker's swift death was a balm, meant to quell the storm in Shen Wenlang's heart. The suffering of his boss, however, was a message a brutal, screaming warning carved into the memory of the underworld, to anyone who dared to harm the top circle of their gang.

"I asked to increase the security in all of our storerooms and our hideouts before Gao Tu was stabbed," Wenlang reported, shifting to business, "but they already managed to take over two of them. All the weapons and money. Fifty million, dozens of guns and grenades. Nothing major. Our diamonds and golden bars were moved to the new hideout, and some were brought here."

Shao-you nodded again. In the frantic haze of the chase with Hua Yong, his focus had been singular, absolute. He was lucky Wenlang’s mind was always turning, always calculating when his wasn’t. The stolen goods were a pinprick; the integrity of their core assets was everything.

"Song Kai is back, too," Shao-you added, his voice dropping an octave, heavy with implication. "He was the one chasing us this morning."

Shen’s eyes widened, not in shock, but in cold recognition. After the day’s events, little could surprise him, but the return of this particular ghost was its own special category of threat. “He was the one chasing us this morning.”

A fresh wave of protective fury surged within him. “Is Hua Yong okay?” The question was laced with a sudden, personal guilt. He cursed himself internally. How could he have been so consumed by Gao Tu's injury that he hadn't considered the danger his partner and brother had faced?

“He won't dare to touch him," Shao-you said with chilling certainty. "Not seriously. It’s for the same reason why Gao Tu's wound wasn't fatal. He won't dare to eliminate the only thing keeping our sanity in check."

It was the oldest, most sacred rule in their bloody world. Every king had an anchor, a person who tethered them to their humanity. You could threaten the anchor, you could rattle their cage, but you can never, ever remove them from the board. To do so was to unleash a monster, a being with nothing left to lose, no leash to tame him. And nothing was more dangerous than an unhinged gangster with the resources of an empire at his back.

Wenlang nodded, the logic cold and clear. "He was just saying the game is on. Reminding us of what's on the line."

Shao-you released a deep breath, the smoke and tension leaving his body in a single, controlled cloud. He stubbed out his cigarette and stood up, the authority settling on his shoulders like a mantle. "That's my cue then."

A smirk touched both their lips simultaneously. It was a grim, predatory expression, a sign of perfect, lethal understanding. They were on the same side.

Wenlang remained as Shao-you left, his gaze falling to the tablet. He memorized the face of the dead man, then swiped to a new file: a live feed from the basement. A portly man in a cheap suit was being dragged into a sterile, soundproofed room, his eyes wide with terror. Wenlang picked up his teacup, took a slow, deliberate sip, and began his descent into the depths of the vats house. He had a story to write, and its ink would be fear.

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

The air in the 'Black Heaven' was thick with the perfume of expensive liquor, cheap glitter, and sweat. A bass beat, so loud it vibrated in the teeth, thrummed through the room. Under a canopy of swirling colored lights, a dozen strippers moved in a hypnotic, wild symphony around the central pole, their performance for an audience of one. Around him, twelve of his most loyal lieutenants laughed and drank, each with their own entourage of women and pretty boys vying for attention.

But the epicenter of it all was Song Xu.

He was a king holding court on a velvet throne. Women draped themselves over his shoulders, their laughter a sharp counterpoint to the music. One, a stunning redhead with lips like a wound, was locked in a deep, possessive kiss with him, her fingers tangled in his silver-streaked hair. He was the sun, and they were all planets caught in his gilded orbit.

"The scene has missed you, boss! We haven't had a party like this in years!" one of his men, a hulking brute with a snake tattoo coiling up his neck, shouted over the din, raising a glass of amber whiskey.

Song Xu broke the kiss, a slow, confident smile spreading across his face. He patted the redhead’s thigh, his eyes scanning the debauchery he commanded. "I can imagine," he said, his voice a low rumble that cut through the noise. "It's good to be back." He breathed deeply, savoring the familiar, corrupt scent of his kingdom.

Then, the symphony was shattered.

The sharp, percussive sound of gunfire ripped through the air, instantly silencing the music. The shots were aimed high, punching holes in the ornate ceiling, sending plaster dust raining down like profane snow. Screams replaced the joyful shouts. The kaleidoscope of writhing bodies broke apart, its pieces scrambling for cover in a panic.

But the old gangster didn’t quiver. He didn't even flinch. As the chaos erupted around him, he calmly tilted the head of the terrified, naked woman beside him and continued his kiss, a silent, defiant act of supreme confidence. He reached into his breast pocket with his free hand and pulled out a long, elegant Cuban cigar.

In a second, the vast room was empty, a ghost of the party it had been moments before. Only Song Xu remained on his throne, with the trembling woman still clutched in his grasp. Standing at the entrance, flanked by a dozen men holding sleek, modern assault rifles, was Shao-you. A smirk played on his lips, a look of arrogant amusement that didn't quite reach his cold, dark eyes.

"You're late!" Xu said, his voice echoing in the sudden quiet. "I was expecting you sooner." He placed the cigar between his lips.

Shao-you smirked, a thin, dangerous curve of his lips. He holstered his weapon and stepped forward, the click of his polished shoes on the tile floor the only sound. He struck a match, the flare momentarily illuminating Xu’s impassive face, and leaned in to light the older male's cigar. The tip glowed a fierce orange.

"I wanted you to enjoy your party for a while," Shao-you said softly, the words laced with a quiet venom, "Before I ruin it."

He didn't wait for an invitation. He sat directly across from Xu, his movement sharp and efficient. He violently kicked Xu's feet off the low table between them, not to clean the surface, but to claim the space. He then tilted his head, a minuscule gesture, at the shivering woman. The message was absolute. She scrambled off Xu’s lap, clutching her discarded robe, and fled into the darkness without a backward glance. A flick of Shao-you’s wrist dismissed his own men, who melted back into the shadows, leaving the two men alone in the vast, ruined club.

The silence was now complete, broken only by the faint hum of the disabled sound system and the slow, deliberate exhalation of cigar smoke from Song Xu’s lips.

Shao-you leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his cool composure a stark contrast to the aftermath of violence he had wrought. "Shall we talk now, Song Xu?"

Chapter Text

"Shall we talk now, Song Xu?" Shao-you ordered rather than asked, and his tone couldn't be mistaken for that. It was the sound of a judge passing sentence.

The older gangster analyzed the male before him, a slow, appraising look that had once made lesser men confess sins they hadn't committed. He saw the shadow of Sheng Feng, in the sharp line of his jaw, but the cold calculation in his eyes was something new, something more dangerous. Finally, Song Xu raised his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. "You came here, to my home," He said, a dry rasp in his voice. "Let me hear your offer."

A smirk played on Shao-you’s lips, followed by a small, genuine laugh that was more chilling than any threat. "The weaker side of the table should be the one stating their demands," He corrected, his voice smooth as silk concealing steel. "I am not making you any offers here." He lit a cigarette, the brief flare of the lighter illuminating the predatory focus in his eyes. He temporarily took his sight away from the head of the Dragon gang, a calculated dismissal of the man’s supposed power. Then he flicked his gaze back. The intensity was startling. Anyone else would have withered, would have found themselves stammering, begging. But Song Xu was seasoned enough; he was once in the place Shao-you was in, hence, no one can play along like him.

"Quarter of the city," Song Xu stated, his voice flat and devoid of weakness. The head of the Guowang gang raised a single, perfect eyebrow. "You will be fully responsible for the weapons trading, the loans, the clubs business. And in return, you will let me run my human trafficking and drugs business smoothly. I heard you didn't set foot into this business within the past three years. A sound arrangement. No one bothers the other."

Shao-you laughed again, louder this time. He wasn't even faking it; he was genuinely amused at the sheer audacity, the monumental arrogance of the man who sat before him. "Five years ago," Shao-you began, his voice dropping to a low, venomous whisper, "You sat at a table with your partners. Your friends. The Hua family's head, the Sheng Family's head, and the Sun family's head. And by morning, you had eliminated the head of the Sheng family, then the head of the Hua family, and almost killed the third." He leaned forward, the smoke from his cigarette a hazy veil between them. "You think I would allow you to live in the same city as us, and allow you to grow when we're openly enemies? You're a man with no conscience, no morals. You’re a rabid dog, Song Xu, and one doesn’t share a kennel with a rabid dog."

The older man remained impassive, merely taking a long, slow sip from his own glass of wine, as if tasting a fine cigar. The insult slid off him like water off oiled leather. "So," he drawled, setting the cup down with a soft click. "What does the great head of the Guowang Gang have in mind?"


Shao-you leaned back, tapping a rhythmic beat on his knee, a second to consider. "You took weapons from our storehouses today, a bold move orchestrated from your cell. And a total of fifty million dollars along. Here's my generosity." He held up two fingers. "We will double the money. One hundred million. And we’ll buy the weapons from you, market price. A signing bonus for your retirement." He paused, letting the numbers sink in. "And then you leave. You and that filthy sperm you call a son. You go to any city in the world and live like a king away from all of this, and you never return to P'nation. Of course, you know that if we do have an agreement, I would know if you ever break your promise."

Only silence followed. Song Xu didn't seem to be considering the offer. His gaze was distant, lost in a past only he could see. Shao-you kept his composure flawlessly; he owned his seat, he owned the room, he owned the man opposite him.

Finally, Song Xu’s eyes refocused, a flicker of dark amusement within them. "You know, you are so much like your father. Sheng Feng was the fiercest out of all of us, the four heads of P'nation. The most righteous. And that's why he was the easiest to kill." A cruel smile twisted his lips. "He was too direct, and he thought everyone was as honorable as he was." He gestured with his hands, grabbing one of the wine glasses. He began to rise, and started walking the small perimeter around the table, circling the younger male. "His acts never belonged in the gangster world. He was a warrior trying to play a politician’s game."


He breathed out, a dry, rattling sound. "The Hua head… now he was dangerous. He never said what he had in mind, but he was always two steps ahead of everyone. Cunning as a fox. He was harder to kill." He smiled at the memory, a chilling, triumphant expression. "If I hadn't killed that man that night, I would have been dead in the morning. And Shen Wenlang, despite being his step-son, is cut from the same cloth. You two together… the warrior’s son and the fox’s heir. You should make anyone in my place quiver. The perfect duet." He came to a halt and placed a heavy, hand on Shao-you's shoulder. The touch was possessive, almost paternal in its condescension. "But, I love a good challenge. And accordingly, I think I will decline your offer."

The younger male smiled, a slow, predatory unveiling of teeth. He didn't flinch from the touch. "I know my own tools, Song Xu. Money, media, power, relations, weapons." He stood up abruptly, forcing Song Xu to step back. Now it was his time to walk, his expensive leather shoes silent on the linoleum as he circled the older male like a shark scenting blood. "But what could you have that makes you stand so boldly? Just a day ago you were a ghost in a cage."

He paced. "You now have the judicial system, after Judge Ju's death, and I would suspect key members of the police force will be tagged along that path. But that's not enough to challenge us." He took his chin in hand, a caricature of deep thought. "To order a hit on a federal judge and hire your own pawn, that's a lot of money and work for someone in prison, and even more for your son who had no resources. Far too clean, far too expensive." He paused directly in front of the older male, their faces inches apart. "Foreign help?"

He smirked, hitting the target. He saw it in the fractional widening of Song Xu’s eyes, the sudden angry tic in his jaw that he tried so desperately to contain. Shao-you’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let's look at the businesses you so graciously offered to run. Drugs and Human trafficking… the two ventures my organization and the Hua's have steadfastly refused to touch. It brings too much heat, too much filth. But it’s incredibly lucrative for those with no scruples." He tilted his head. "I would say that it’s that a specific Taipan gang in Jihun city that has been making us enormous, almost desperate, offers for a foothold in P'nation?" He looked at the man's stony face, then nodded to himself.

Shao-you reached out and gently fixed the loose collar of the older man's robe. "I will make sure you and that little psycho head of the Taipan gang learn who is the king of this country. And you should make sure to tell him that when you speak to him next time."

Without another word, Shao-you turned and walked steadily out of the building. The door opened for him, by Chen Pinming who was standing with the rest of the men like statues in the corridor. He didn't look back.

Song Xu watched him all the way, his face a mask of controlled fury. The moment the door clanged shut, the mask shattered. With a guttural roar of pure, unadulterated rage, he hurled the wine glass against the wall. It exploded into a thousand glittering shards, just like his composure.

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

The morning light, filtered through the mansion’s floor-to-ceiling windows, cast a deceptively serene glow on the marble floors.

The porcelain cup met its saucer with a gentle clink, a sound of pure civility that belied the storm brewing on the television screen. Shao-you, sat his hand-painted cup down, the steam from his herbal tea curling into the tense air like a question mark. His eyes, however, remained fixed on the tablet before him, its glow illuminating the sharp planes of his face.

On the screen before him, a new hashtag was devouring Weapp. #XuSongGuilty. It was a torrent of outrage, a digital mob armed with grainy videos and time-stamped photos that painted a damning portrait of the man who had, just days ago, walked out of court a free man. The videos showed protests swelling outside his gated villa, a sea of angry faces and raised banners, their chants a silent, simmering threat.

Shao-you glanced at the TV screen before him, the news reporter earnest face framed by the chyron: #WhatHappenedToJudgeJu? He momentarily put down the newspaper in his hand, which bore a similar headline. The digital storm they had unleashed was growing into a hurricane… It made him smirk.

Shen Wenlang walked in, his polished leather shoes making no sound on the thick Persian rug. He intercepted Shao-you’s gaze at the screen, a flicker of cold satisfaction in his eyes. "Good! Try to get something out of them before you eliminate them," He placed the device aside and took the opposite seat at the grand dining table. "Another one of the Dragon hideouts was found. This one in the old warehouse district. With this, we have retrieved almost half our weapons." He reached for the hand-painted porcelain cup settling on his side of the table, his favorite herbal tea’s steam still a visible wisp in the air.

Shao-you nodded, a smile touching his lips. He picked up a silver fork and speared a small piece of Beaufort D'Ete. For the past five days, they had been relentless. Every source from their tame media outlets to their armies of online trolls was mobilized to attack Xu Song from left and right. The public, already suspicious, was now a ravenous beast, baying for the blood of a corrupt judicial system and an inept police force. Simultaneously, their own men, moving like ghosts in the night, had raided every suspected hideout and storeroom belonging to Xu Song’s Dragon Gang.

"I have asked Chen Pinming to gather all the information he can get his hands on regarding the Taipan Gang," Shao-you said, his voice a low, calculated hum. "We need to know who we’re dealing with before they hit us."

He only received a nod, then, silence settled over the table, broken only by the clinking of silverware and the muted hum of their tablets. Both men were constantly monitoring the situation, even issuing orders through encrypted messages.

The dining room door opened softly some time later, a servant held it for Hua Yong. Dressed in the crisp uniform of his prestigious high school. He walked straight to Shao-you and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. The older male’s entire demeanor shifted, the hard edges of the gangster kingpin melting into a softer domain. His eyes, which moments ago held the cold glint of a predator, warmed with affection as they traced his boyfriend’s footsteps until he settled in the chair beside him.

"Morning, Ge," Hua Yong gave a small, respectful nod to Shen Wenlang, who placed his phone down and returned the greeting with a genuine smile. "Is Tu not joining us today as well?" Hua Yong asked, sipping on the fresh orange juice a servant had promptly poured for him.

"He really wanted to," The oldest male replied, his tone imbued with a visible parental note. With a ten-year age difference and no chance of a son of his own, he treasured Hua Yong with a fierce, protective love that blurred the lines between brothers. "But I thought it's better if he stays in today as well. He should join us for dinner, though, so try to be on time and not get too caught up in your violin practice."

The student nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you to school today?" Shao-you whispered, his hand finding Hua Yong’s under the table.

Hua Yong shook his head, giving the older man’s hand an assertive squeeze. "It's really needless, Chang Yu was more than perfect yesterday."

"I have asked them to add another car for your security," Shen interjected, his tone practical but not unkind. "A shadow car. They won't leave the school's entrance until you're done for the day. And they will report any potential danger if they detect it, so check their texts." On the past couple of days they were the ones on the offense with the Dragon gang, but a wounded dragon was still a dragon. There was no telling when or where Xu Song would snap.

"Mr. Sheng," a voice called urgently from the doorway. The three men’s heads snapped towards it. It was Chen Pinming. With a swift nod from his boss, Pinming walked in, closing the distance. "I have received a call from one of our debt collectors, his head Jie Binq has been missing since yesterday evening."

Shen and Shao-you exchanged a knowing, grim look. Neither of them knew the man personally; in an empire of thousands, it was impossible to recall every soldier. But the name wasn't what mattered. The number was. This was their eighth man to go missing in five days. The first three had been found, their bodies discarded in alleyways with clear marks of extensive, brutal torture.

"That man is looking for something," Shen verbalized their shared thought, his voice laced with venom. "He's not just killing them. He's trying to extract information."

Shao-you’s gaze flew to Hua Yong, a pang of regret in his chest. He hated having these conversations in front of him. He turned back to Chen Pinming, his voice once again the cold instrument of command. "Send Jie Binq’s family his full monthly salary, doubled. Make a file, ensure everything they need is met, for life. And pass down a new order. Everyone installs a tracking device in their phone and reports their status to their assigned head every two hours. No exceptions. And tell them to always travel in groups. Never less than three men."

Pinming bowed. "Yes, Mr. Sheng."

Hua Yong’s hand holding his glass of orange juice, faltered for a fraction of a second. He was no stranger to the nature of this business, but hearing the cold calculus of death and disappearance over Beaufort and herbal tea was always jarring. He quickly composed himself, taking a deliberate sip, the sweet citrus a stark contrast to the bitter taste of the conversation.

Shao-you’s gaze softened as it landed back on him, a silent apology in his eyes. He reached over, his hand covering Hua Yong’s on the table. "Finish your juice. Chang Yu is waiting. I will still try to at least pick you up today" His voice was a low murmur.

Hua Yong nodded, giving the older man’s hand a reassuring squeeze before finishing his breakfast with practiced haste. He stood, smoothing down his uniform. "I'll see you at dinner, Ge,"He kissed Shao-you’s cheek again. Then, gave Shen Wenlang another polite nod and turned, disappearing through the door with the quiet grace of someone who knew when they were no longer part of the conversation.

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

The air in Xu’s villa's office was a sterile cocktail of expensive leather, aged single malt, and the coppery tang of fresh blood. From his throne-like chair. The head of the Dragon gang swirled the deep red liquid in his crystal glass, the ruby reflections dancing on his impassive face. He watched his son, not as a father, but as a general observing a subordinate’s tactics.

Kai’s knuckles were white around the grip of the 7-iron. The golf ball, perched precariously on a tee wedged between Jie Binq's swollen lips, seemed to mock him. The man who just yesterday commanded respect within the Guowang Gang, was now a broken mess of bruises and terror, his suit ruined and his dignity was shattered.

"So, how come a respectful person, such as yourself, one of the key factors of the Guowang Gang doesn't know anything useful?" Kai’s voice was a low growl, a stark contrast to his father’s unnerving silence. He swung the club, a vicious arc that ended with a sickening thwack. The ball shot across the room, ricocheting off a marble statue. Jie Binq screamed, a wet, gurgling sound as his teeth loosened in their sockets, blood and saliva painting his chin crimson.

"Please... I know nothing," he sobbed, the words slurring through his ruined mouth. He was a child again, helpless and terrified.

Kai pressed his lips into a thin, hard line. He was young, but he had spent enough time in this world to recognize the hollow ring of genuine ignorance. This man was a dead end. A frustrated sigh escaped him, a plume of hot air in the chilled room. He patted the man’s shoulder almost gently, a disarming gesture before his hand shot up, grabbing a fistful of hair and snapping Jie Binq’s neck with a sharp, brutal twist. The body went limp, slumping to the expensive rug like a discarded puppet.

"This is not working," Xu’s voice finally cut through the silence. It was calm, measured, holding more weight than his son’s explosive violence. He gestured with his glass towards the corpse. "Another broken tool." He looked from Kai to Sunny, his right-hand, who stood near the window, her silhouette sharp against the city lights.

"Shao-you and Wenlang won't give important secrets to lower ranks," Sunny stated, her mandarin carrying the clean, clipped accent of her foreign upbringing. It was a detail that always set her apart, making her observations sound like clinical facts. "And their close entourage are highly protected, not to mention well trained and loyal to their heads. They really spoil them."

Frustration boiled over in Kai. He hurled the golf club. It spun through the air and crashed into a glass display case, shattering a priceless jade dragon. The sound echoed like a gunshot. "So, we let them hunt us down like this? They hit our most secured points, we can’t easily get of their house because of their organized media attacks. We need anything to criminalize them, anything to get them off our tails until we establish our part of the deal with the Taipan Gang in a month. Otherwise, we will lose their support, and Shao-you and Wenlang will swallow us whole."

Xu set his wine glass down, the click of crystal on polished mahogany the only sound. He steepled his fingers, resting his chin upon them. The cogs of a lifetime of strategy were turning behind his dark, unreadable eyes. "There's one," he said softly, almost to himself. "Close enough to know secrets, and not too trained or protected." His eyes flickered, the predatory glint finally showing itself.

"Who?" Kai stepped closer, trying to decipher his father’s expression.

Xu ignored him, his gaze settling on Sunny. He had considered the angles, the risks, and the potential reward. The brute force approach had failed. It was time for surgical precision. "Sunny, call the Police Commissioner. It's time to use the only card we have."

Sunny nodded once, her expression unchanging. She pulled out a sleek, encrypted phone and stepped onto the balcony, her voice a low murmur against the wind. Kai watched her, then looked back at his father. "The Commissioner? What good is a paid cop against the Guowang, Gao Tu won’t let any of their men experience this?"

"The Commissioner cannot arrest them” Xu explained, picking up his wine again. "But, he can arrest someone for some hours”.

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across the vast room, illuminating the scene Wenlang had been observing. The gangster paused at the door, his broad frame filling the doorway, to simply watch the lawyer in the center of it all, propped against a mountain of pillows.

Gao Tu was frowning at his laptop screen, the soft glow etching lines of concentration on his handsome face. A sling cradled his side, a stark white reminder of the kinfe that had grazed him some days ago.

A soft, almost imperceptible smile touched Wenlang’s lips before he moved, his steps silent on the plush carpet. He settled the colorful tray next to Gao Tu on the expansive bed, the vibrant dishes complementing the white soft linen.

The lawyer looked up, his frown dissolving into a warm, tired smile. “You’re going to turn me into a complete layabout,” he murmured, placing the laptop aside on the empty space. As he shifted, a sharp, inadvertent gasp escaped him, a quick hitch of breath as pain lanced through his injured side. In an instant, Wenlang was there, his large, calloused hands gently moving the laptop to the nightstand. His movement was swift, practiced, a protector’s reflex honed by a lifetime of violence.

“You’re spoiling me too much, Shen Wenlang,” Gao Tu sighed, leaning his head against his boyfriend’s solid shoulder. He inhaled the familiar scent of him.

Wenlang slipped a powerful arm around Gao Tu’s shoulders, pulling him closer, careful of his injury. He pressed his lips to the soft dark hair. The words came out unbidden, raw and quiet, a confession torn from a place he usually kept locked down deep. “I can’t believe I almost lost you.”

Gao Tu turned his head, his good hand coming up to rest on Wenlang’s chest, feeling the frantic, steady beat of his heart. “I am not going anywhere,” He assured, his voice firm, as a lawyer’s promise. He understood the labyrinth of fear within this formidable man. He knew the ghost of the nine-year-old boy who had lost his father. He knew the memory of how, years later, he had witnessed the murder of his step-father, Hua Yong’s father, and how he lost his mother the same night. It was in these rare, unguarded moments that Gao Tu could be the shield, his quiet strength shown to guard the other male.

Wenlang’s embrace tightened for a second, a silent acknowledgment of the comfort, before he gently pulled back. His eyes fell on the laptop. The moment of vulnerability was over, replaced by a gentle, chiding authority.

“So, what are you doing, when I clearly asked you to rest?” He asked, voice not louder than a  low rumble. He reached over and grabbed the device, opening the lid. The screen glowed to life, displaying a dossier: a severe-looking man in judicial robes, alongside a list of names and photographs.

Gao Tu pressed his lips together, somehow frustrated. “I am checking the background of the current judge. We can’t trust him.” Wenlang raised a single, sharp eyebrow, awaiting for a briefing.

“His parents,” Gao Tu elaborated, pointing to a grainy, decades-old photo of a couple, from another file he pulled up the screen. “They were one of the Dragon Gang’s key allies. They were eliminated by our gang during the takeover three years ago.” He looked at Wenlang, his eyes sharp and analytical. “He was a small local judge then, but that kind of loss… it doesn’t fade. It festers. I am afraid he’s a dead end. So, I am looking for other alternatives. A replacement after Judge Ju’s… sudden death.” He mocked

Wenlang nodded slowly, a new understanding dawning. "Well, you can still rest today," he assured, his hand returning to rub Gao Tu's shoulder. "I talked to Shao-you, and we both agree that we should let things be for now."

Gao Tu's eyes widened slightly, the laptop screen still open between them. "Why? I mean..."

A slow, dangerous smile touched Wenlang’s lips. He began to gently rub Gao Tu’s shoulder. “We think it’s a good trap,” Wenlang said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let this judge with his old grudges sit on the bench and asset the Dragon gang for a day or two.... It will make Song Xu bold. He will act recklessly with so little cards in hand.” His eyes, dark and unwavering, held Gao Tu’s. “And we shouldn’t waste this opportunity. We will be watching. We will see which of our so-called allies scrambles to help him, which ones stay silent, and which ones…” he paused, the unspoken threat hanging in the air, “…simply wear a polished mask.”.

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the classroom, turning dust motes into dancing gold. The air was still fresh, not yet heavy with the lassitude of a full school day. At the front, a female student’s voice, clear and resonant filled the space with the weight of centuries. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate... “Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date… " The female student,  lowered the book. The class was rapt in her delivery. It was rather sweet and funny at the same time.

The literature teacher, surveyed his students. Their faces were a mixed bag of genuine appreciation, polite attention, and, in some cases, outright boredom. But they were all listening. After all, they were the best and brightest of the country, fluent not just in the vocabulary of English, but in its cultural rhythm. Even their weakest student, usually slumped in the corner, was better than most students in other schools "Anyone care to offer their interpretation?" he asked, his gaze sweeping across the room.

A flurry of hands shot up, eager to impress. In the back row, Hua Yong remained motionless. He was accustomed to this role, the observer. His marks were effortlessly the highest, rendering him the need to seek validation through participation, it never mattered to him. He simply internalized the lesson.

The teacher bypassed the eager hands. “You,” he pointed to a broad-shouldered male, making the student grin, seizing the opportunity to tease. “Shakespeare was a fraud who wrote about hate and plots in his tragedies, but he was secretly a cupid in real life? He just wanted better weather.”

A ripple of laughter went through the room, including a small, indulgent chuckle from the teacher.

Hua Yong offered a brief, internal smile, but his hand moved silently beneath the desk. He wrote in the margin of his notebook, his script precise and neat: (Compared his love to summer as it's immortal but changes just like the seasons. Love endures the rough winds.)

The intellectual calm shattered the instant the door swung inward. It didn't open; it exploded, slamming against the plaster with violent finality. Four men stood hulking in the doorway, their presence filling the space. They were large, dressed in ill-fitting suits that suggested authority but lacked the polish of the academy’s patrons. Behind them, several yards back, stood the school’s Principal, he looked small, his posture defeated, his face a mask of oppressed fear…Hua Yong instantly recognized the dynamic. These were not routine visitors.

The man in the front, clean-shaven and radiating a cold, surgical authority, pulled a folded paper from his jacket pocket.“I am sorry,” the man announced, his voice flat, devoid of real apology. “But we have a police warrant for one of the students.”

The principal’s voice, though strained, attempted to assert authority. “Sir, I have been trying to tell you! These are all students, and most of them are minors. We need to contact their parents first.” The teacher, with a protective instinct, tried to step forward, to shield his students, but one of the men roughly pulled him aside, a sharp, dismissive gesture that silenced him instantly.

Hua Yong watched, his face a mask of impassivity. He had learned to control his reactions, to become a ghost in plain sight. But then, one of the four men, a burly figure with eyes that seemed to be monitoring everything, met his gaze. It was a look that confirmed Hua Yong’s unspoken dread. These men weren’t here for a random search. They were here for him. The teenager’s fingers moved with practiced speed, his phone already in his hand. He navigated through his contacts, his thumb hovering over Shao-you’s name. But before he could even press it, the phone was ripped from his grasp.

“Hello!” the officer in front barked, his voice a whip crack. He looked down at Hua Yong, his gaze predatory. With a deliberate, almost theatrical gesture, he hurled the phone against the wall behind them. It shattered into a thousand piece. The raw, unnecessary violence of the act sent a ripple of unease through the room, a collective intake of breath. Even the adults in the room exchanged bewildered glances. Yet, this was only the prelude.

Hua Yong’s arms were seized from behind, his wrists yanked backward with brutal force. He offered no resistance, his body stiffening only slightly under the sudden, painful pressure. “Hua Yong, you are under arrest for the murder of Jie Binq,” the officer announced, his voice chillingly calm. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” The younger male winced. The shock of the charge was momentary, overshadowed by the intense physical pain. He could feel the steel of the handcuffs smothering his wrists, tightened until the metal edge pierced into the delicate skin and bone. It was excruciatingly tight, and the young officer who applied them made sure of it.

Everyone was watching in horror. It was standard procedure for a cooperative suspect not yet convicted to be cuffed in the front. But Hua Yong was not only cuffed behind his back, but the officer, instead of guiding him by the shoulder, grabbed him by the back of his neck, his thick nails piercing the skin just below the hairline.

“Move!” the officer warned, before shoving Hua Yong roughly towards the door.

The procession moved through the academic halls. Students spilled out of doors, lining the corridor walls, watching the unprecedented humiliation of the academy’s most inscrutable student. Hua Yong kept his head up, but he registered the looks: the sheer terror from the younger students, the wide, disbelieving eyes of his classmates, and the flicker of malicious satisfaction on the faces of a few rivals who had always resented his cold brilliance.

But even as the shame washed over him, a sliver of hope remained. The moment he stepped outside the school’s imposing gates, Chang Yu would see him and report it back.

To his surprise, he was not led towards the main entrance. Instead, he was pulled towards a seldom-used back exit, its door rarely opened. “Why aren’t we using the main gate?” The question was the first thing he had dared to utter since his arrest. He was terrified of saying anything that could be twisted, anything that might endanger his brother, his boyfriend.

“Security purposes,” the officer grabbing him smirked. The lie was so blatant it was almost an insult. They weren’t avoiding a security risk; they were avoiding Chang Yu. Hua Yong knew, with absolute certainty, that Chang Yu was parked in his usual spot by the main gate. “I hope you don’t mind, princess.” He then turned to one of the other officers. “Hey, you!” he called out, his voice deliberately loud enough for Hua Yong to hear. “Tell the principal not to report this to his family. And tell him it’s a secret investigation. If he tries anything, it’ll be counted as obstruction of justice.”

The student was shoved towards the police sedan parked next to the school’s backdoor. The engine rumbled, a low growl that vibrated through the soles of Hua Yong’s school-issued shoes.

"Get in," the lead officer grunted, yanking the back door open. He didn't release his grip on Hua Yong's neck but used it to force his head down, pushing him unceremoniously onto the leather seat. The door slammed again, plunging the car into a dim, tinted world. The lead officer slid in beside him, his bulk crowding Hua Yong against the far door. The air instantly thickened with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap, cloying cologne.

The car pulled away smoothly, merging into traffic. Hua Yong kept his gaze fixed on the window, watching the familiar streets blur into an alien landscape. He catalogued the turns. Left, then a right, then another left. They were heading away from the city center, away from any official precinct he knew of.

Chapter Text

“Is your residence house full of guns?” The officer’s voice was a gravelly shout, echoing off the bare concrete walls. He was a bull of a man, with a thick neck and a face ruddy with impatience. He had interrogated seasoned killers, hardened triad enforcers, men who wore their sins like a second skin. He had made them all spill. But this boy, this slip of a teenager with ink-black hair falling into his intelligent, defiant eyes, was an unbreakable wall.

Hua Yong stared at the coffee-colored stain, its irregular shape blurring into an abstract map of a world he no longer recognized. His mouth felt like sandpaper, his tongue a foreign object. The metallic tang of blood was a constant companion, an unwelcome guest. He focused on the creeping cold, letting it numb him, turning his body into stone.

Frustration radiated from the officer like heat. He gave a small, almost imperceptible signal toward the one-way mirror. Hua Yong watched the tiny red light on the ceiling-mounted camera blink off. The performance was over; the real interrogation was about to begin… again

The slap came fast and hard this time, snapping Hua Yong’s delicate head to the side. The metallic taste of blood bloomed on his tongue… This was the fifth one. Each was harder than the last. “Speak, you little piece of shit,” the officer growled, his face inches away.

Hua Yong breathed in slowly through his nose, mastering the tremor that wanted to wrack his body. Don’t give them anything. Not a word, not a whimper. It wasn’t even about physical pain, the cold was the worst part, the AC in the room was treating him like frozen meat. It was a deliberate tactic, they knew how to make him feel small, exposed, and vulnerable. To make him crave the warmth of cooperation. He’d been pulled from his classroom so quickly he hadn’t managed to grab his jacket. Another calculated move.

He didn’t even gasp the time, one of the officers snatched his father’s diamond watch from his wrists during their ride, it was impossible to tell if it had been minutes or hours.

“Can I get some water, please?” His voice was a weak rasp, the words scraping against a throat raw from disuse. It was the fourth time he had spoken, and each time the request was the same, a quiet, desperate plea swallowed by the room’s hostility. He was drained.

“Bitch! Stop making requests! This is not one of the luxurious restaurants you visit with your boyfriend,” the officer spat, his face contorted with a sneer. He gestured to the mirror again. The red light flickered back to life. The performance resumed.

The officer leaned forward, his voice dropping into a false, conspiratorial calm. “The man you’re accused of killing, Jie Binq, is suspected to be working with your half-brother and his partner, Sheng Shao-you. Did you ever see him with them in your house? Or outside your house?”.

Hua Yong swallowed, the movement a painful act against his dry throat. A fresh trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. He’d known since the first five minutes in this room that his arrest for murder was a transparent sham. They hadn’t Mirandized him properly, hadn’t let him call a lawyer, hadn’t asked a single question about how Jie Binq died. Every query was a fishing line cast into the waters surrounding the Guowang Gang and its two heads: Shen Wenlang and Sheng Shao-you… They weren't even trying to be subtle.

They weren’t investigating a murder. They were gathering intelligence. And he was their unwilling asset.

The officer let out an exasperated sigh, running a thick hand over his cropped hair. Five hours.... fove chipping away at granite. He looked up at the darkened glass, a silent plea for guidance.

Behind the one-way glass, the audience was growing impatient.

Song Xu sighed, running a hand over his weary face. “Five hours. We have nothing. The kid’s a brick wall.” The Dragon breathed on his cigar, a frown etching deep lines into his face. “He’s just a boy. I expected more… fragility.”

Kai, however, seemed almost amused. A faint smile played on his lips. “If I knew your plan included Hua Yong, I would have warned you. That kid is probably more stubborn than the entire Guowang Gang combined.” He glanced at the Dragon, his eyes knowing. “He shares DNA with Shen Wenlang and a bed with Shao-you. What did you possibly expect? Weakness? He’s been conditioned for this.”

Song Xu tapped the ash from his cigar. “Give him another thirty minutes. The cold and the thirst are working, even if he doesn’t show it. Then, we change tactics. Break his spirit, but mind his face. No permanent damage.” He turned his cold, reptilian gaze back to the boy in the interrogation room. “Hua Yong shouldn’t be our first move. He should be our last, best card to play against the Guowang Gang when needed. A trump card. Wenlang’s beloved little half-brother, Shao-you’s cherished lover…”.

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

Mei stood by the window, watching the rain drip down the glass. The usual buzz of the prestigious academy was muted by the sound of falling droplets, as if Nature itself was trying to drown out the gossip that had consumed the entire school.

The student watched the scene, her gaze fixed on the milling clusters of students dissecting the news with morbid fascination. Their animated whispers, their wide eyes, their speculative theories, it all felt repulsively voyeuristic to her. But, she couldn’t shake the visceral image that replayed itself in her mind: that iron grip of that police officer, his knuckles clamped around Hua Yong’s neck. She remembered the slight tremor in Hua Yong’s frame, the subtle flinch that betrayed a pain masked by his usual composed facade. Wherever he was now, she was certain he was suffering. She ran towards the bathroom, shutting the door, it was too much to take in.

“It’s not just any crime, they’re saying he… he murdered someone!” A high-pitched voice, laced with a gleeful shock, sliced through the air from the doorway of the girls’ restroom.

A ripple of hushed gasps followed, then another voice, smoother, more cynical. “Well, no one has it all, do they? He’s smart, he’s pretty, he’s talented and rich. A trap behind all of this is only logical.” A brittle laugh punctuated her words, devoid of real mirth.

Mei’s stomach churned. The casual dissection of a potential life-altering event, the almost perverse enjoyment derived from the downfall of someone so admired …it was too much. Footsteps sounded nearby, a scuff of expensive leather against polished tile, and then a sudden, unnerving silence fell over the immediate vicinity as the gossiping girls likely dispersed, their curiosity momentarily sated.

Left alone with her turbulent thoughts, Mei fumbled for her phone. Her fingers, trembling slightly, navigated to her recent calls. She had already done the preliminary research, a deep dive into the corporate structure of the Guowang Gang. Crown Company. The largest, most glittering facade, a carefully manicured front for their extensive money laundering operations. It was the closest she could get, the only tangible link to the shadowed figures who held power over Hua Yong's protection.

She bit her lip, the metallic taste of anxiety filling her mouth. Her finger hovered over the dial button, hesitating. This was reckless, foolish, and potentially dangerous. But silence felt like complicity.

The automated voice on the other end was infuriatingly cheerful. “Thank you for calling Crown Company, your premier partner in real estate development. How may I assist you today?”

Mei swallowed, her throat feeling impossibly dry. She’d been prepared for this, rehearsed the script in her head a thousand times. She adopted a tone of polite, albeit slightly anxious, inquiry. “Hello, yes, I’m calling about… about one of your newly listed properties. A family member is interested.”

The operator, blessedly, seemed to take the bait. “Certainly, ma’am. Do you have a specific project in mind, or would you like me to direct you to our sales team?”

“Actually,” Mei began, her voice barely a whisper, “I was hoping to speak to someone… someone who might know Shen Wenlang?”

A beat of silence. The cheerful facade wavered, replaced by a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in tone. “I’m afraid I don’t understand the nature of your inquiry, ma’am. Crown Company handles real estate transactions. If you are interested in a property, I can connect you to...”

Mei cut her off, the carefully constructed facade crumbling under the weight of her desperation. “My name is Mei. Hua Yong is my… school colleague. He was arrested this morning from school” She paused “It wasn’t an arrest. It was… it looked like an abduction.” Her voice cracked on the last word. She could feel the cold dread creeping up her spine, the certainty that she had crossed a line.

The silence on the line stretched, taut and heavy. Mei could hear the faint hum of the office, the distant clicking of keyboards. Then, the voice returned, clipped and devoid of any warmth. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we do not accept spam calls or prank calls here. I will have to terminate this call.”

“No, please! You have to…”

A click. The line went dead.

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

Shao-you set his porcelain cup back on the polished oak desk, the steam curling from the dark coffee as though mocking him for the brief pause he was allowing himself

He’d envisioned a quiet noon reviewing proposals, meticulously assessing Shen Wenlang’s latest strategies, proposals that were usually well-crafted. Instead, anxiety gnawed at him. He glanced at the file, untouched on his desk, then grabbed his phone, his fingers instinctively opening his chat with Hua Yong. Two unanswered texts stared back at him.

He drummed his fingers on the polished wood, two quick taps, a nervous habit he hadn’t quite managed to shake. It was still early to truly panic. Hua Yong was a whirlwind of focused energy when he was engrossed in school matters. Sometimes he’d be lost in the intricate world of violin practice, oblivious to the buzzing of his phone. Other times, he’d seek refuge in the hushed sanctuary of the library, overwhelmed by the social chatter of his peers and girls chasing him, needing an escape into the silent pages of a book.

As long as he didn't receive a call from Chang Yu, it wasn’t time to panic yet.

The door swung open with a quiet whoosh, and Chen Pinming, entered, his arms laden with files. "Mr. Sheng?" he asked, his tone respectful.

Shao-you gave a curt nod, gesturing for him to approach. "This is the information you requested about the Taipan Gang. But, I am still digging deeper," The male said, placing the stack on the edge of the desk with a soft thud.

Shao-you nodded again, expecting Pinming to take his leave, but he remained, a flicker of hesitancy in his eyes. "What's wrong?" The gangster asked, his patience thinning.

Chen Pinming bit his lip "We received a… weird call some minutes ago from the PR department. About… the Young Master!" The blood drained from Shao-you’s face. Young Master…

It was a title reserved solely for his Hua Yong, spoken with a mixture of respect and protectiveness by those in the organization who knew his true connection to Shao-you. "What happened to him?" The question escaped his lips as a harsh whisper, barely audible. He lunged for his phone, his fingers fumbling as he punched in Hua Yong's number.

"Apparently, a girl named Mei called an hour ago, saying he was arrested from school!" Chen Pinming blurted out, watching Shao-you’s face transform from concerned to thunderous.

Shao-you’s mind reeled. Arrested? Hua Yong? The two words clashed in his head, a dissonant chord of disbelief and fury. He couldn’t even pinpoint what infuriated him more: Hua Yong being arrested, or the fact that he was hearing about someone reporting it an hour later. "What do you mean arrested?" He paused, struggling to control his rising anger. "And what do you mean an hour ago? Why didn't that person report it immediately?"

He barked the question, his voice laced with icy venom. He stabbed at the redial button on his phone again and again, but each attempt was met with the same automated response: the phone was switched off.

"They thought it was a spam call," Chen Pinming offered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid of further inciting Shao-you’s wrath.

Shao-you ignored him, already halfway out the door, his phone pressed to his ear, his pace a frantic blur. He was running before he truly registered the movement. "Shen Wenlang. Meet me at A'Yong's school," he said into the phone, his voice strained, the authoritative steel of the gangster replaced by raw, naked fear. He hung up before Shen Wenlang could even respond.

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

Forty-two minutes. Twelve minutes past the self-imposed deadline. Hua Yong sat before his interrogator, a portrait of unnerving stillness. His fine-boned face was marred by the red imprint of the officer’s hand, he had taken more slaps in these minutes, his lips were a pale, bloodless line. The air was colder now, almost like a refrigerator, it had set his teeth to a frantic, silent chatter, but his eyes were dark and deep, it held a calm that was more infuriating than any screamed denial.

The officer’s jaw tightened. He had a reputation, one of the best interrogators in the district. He had broken men thrice Hua Yong’s age, hardened criminals who had sworn never to betray their gangs. But this boy? This student with his too-young face and calm silence? He hated that he failed to break him.

“Come,” the older male growled at last. His patience snapped. He yanked Hua Yong up by the arm, the sudden movement making the handcuffs bite deeper into his skin. The boy winced but said nothing, he was too weak now to even complain despite his façade.

He dragged the teenager down a sterile, echoing corridor, the boy’s designed sneakers scuffing against the polished concrete. The heavy, clang of a barred door being unlocked punctuated the silence. The officer shoved Hua Yong inside with unnecessary force. "We will take an hour to rest," He declared, his gaze sweeping over the three figures already inside. They were hulking, scarred, men whose very presence exuded a primal menace. A silent understanding passed between them, a pact sealed with a nod. They knew what was expected.

Hua Yong stood alone, the only one in the cell still cuffed. He suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. His intelligent and youthful eyes darted around the confined space, taking in the chipped paint, the stained concrete floor, the faces of his temporary jailers. They were lowlifes, thugs. Not like the sophisticated criminals his brother  and boyfriend are associated with. These were just… trash.

Hua Yong knew better than to show weakness. He straightened up and walked deliberately to the far corner. He kept his eyes fixed on the cracked concrete floor, making a conscious choice to render himself invisible. It was a strategy born of a life lived on the periphery of a dangerous world, a world he was never meant to be a part of.

His illusion of safety shattered almost immediately. The three men closed in, their movements deliberate and predatory. One of them, a thick-necked brute with tattoos snaking up his arms, stopped inches from Hua Yong, his breath reeking of stale cigarettes. "Hello, pretty…" he purred, his voice a low growl that vibrated in the confined space.

Hua Yong kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his jaw clenched tight. "I wouldn't touch me if I were you," he said, his voice surprisingly steady, a low hum of warning.

A chorus of harsh, guttural laughter filled the small cell. The man in front of him, the clear leader, chewed his gum with exaggerated chomps before spitting the wad onto the floor, inches from Hua Yong's foot. "You know, kiddo," he sneered, "I was wondering what a cute little student like you would be doing in a place like this." His hand shot out, grabbing Hua Yong’s chin and forcing his head up. The man’s thumb dug callously into his cheek. "Then you opened that mouth and I realized, you're one of them. So full of yourself."

He exhaled a cloud of foul breath. "The problem with today's kids is they follow these stupid terms, modern upbringing, child abuse... bla, bla, bla." Hua Yong couldn't conceal the wave of disgust that flashed in his eyes. The man saw it, and his grip tightened. "Last time I told my mom I didn't like her food, I was beaten for a day. From that moment on, I never complained about anything." He released Hua Yong’s chin only to tangle his fist in the boy's dark, silky hair, yanking his head back. "Do you know what she would do, if she saw that look you’re giving an adult?" He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, his wet tongue flicking grotesquely close to Hua Yong’s ear. "She would spank you until you pass out."

In a single, violent motion, Hua Yong was dragged forward. He stumbled, his bound hands making it impossible to break his fall. The three men swarmed him. The leader sat on the single metal chair bolted to the floor, pulling the resisting teenager onto his lap like a child about to be punished. "Let me go," Hua Yong grunted, his voice strained as he writhed against their hold. It was useless. While the leader pinned his torso, the other two immobilized his legs and shoulders, their combined weight and strength overwhelming his lean frame.

The leader snarled, a sound of grim satisfaction. His free hand moved to Hua Yong's uniform pants. The rasp of the zipper was obscenely loud in the charged silence. One of the other men grabbed the waistband and yanked the trousers down, exposing him to the cold, damp air.

"What a sight!" the leader mocked, his rough, calloused hand roaming over Hua Yong’s skin. He leaned down and audaciously licked a stripe up one cheek. “So smooth. Better than any woman I’ve ever fucked,” he mocked, eliciting another round of crude laughter. “Now, shall we start?”

Hua Yong clamped his jaw shut, biting down hard on his lower lip until he tasted the coppery tang of blood. He braced himself, his mind a fortress. He would not scream. He would not cry. He would not give them the satisfaction.

The first blow landed. A sound like a paddle striking leather cracked through the cell. It wasn't a slap; it was a punishment, delivered with the full weight and malice of the man’s body. A starburst of white-hot agony erupted, so intense it stole his breath and shook his very bones. He managed to choke back the wince, his body arching instinctively against his captors' grip.

Then another came, even harder. It was a vicious, rhythmic assault, each impact a fresh explosion of pain and degradation.

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

The prestigious school was brittle with an unnatural silence. Students and faculty, usually a chaotic symphony of chatter and hurried footsteps during this time of the day, were now a frozen, their ears fixed on the drama unfolding the principle’s office. Shen Wenlang’s voice was so loud that it felt like they were sitting in the room with them.

Earlier, the entire school had gathered at the sound of his arrival, the Guowang’s  expensive cars that had breached the gates without ceremony. Now, he addressed the school's trembling principal... A short distance away, leaning against a marble pillar, Gao Tu, watched the proceedings, his face was casually calm, he had expected all of this to happen, and rightfully so.

On a tablet in Gao Tu’s hands were the looped CCTV photos from Hua Yong’s arrest. The angle were enough to know the officers’ faces. For the past hour, the entire Guowang network had ground to a halt. From the inner circle strategizing in boardrooms to the small-time distributors on street corners, every operation was paused. The search was on. The boy had to be found.

"What do you mean my brother was taken from here and you let it happen'?" Wenlang’s lips curved into a frustrated, almost pitying smile. He took a slow step towards the principal, a man twenty years older whose face was now ashen with fear. "I put you on this chair, remember?" Wenlang’s voice dropped to a soft murmur that carried across the unnervingly quiet plaza. "You think it was your multiple diplomas? Or your PhDs?"

Before the principal could stammer out a reply, another figure moved with the predatory grace of a panther. Shao-you eyes were burning with a wild, untamed fury, he slid between the two men. He didn’t bother with pleasantries. His hand shot out, grabbing the principal by the collar of his tailored suit, yanking him close.

“You are here for the sole purpose of protecting him," Shao-you whispered, his voice a venomous hiss meant only for the principal but felt by everyone nearby. "I told you if you need to burn this entire school down to make him safe, then fucking burn it. Why do you think we spend millions of dollars on this place? It’s not for the goddamn sports program." He smiled then, a twisted, chilling thing that was far more terrifying than his threat. "If Hua Yong has so much as a scratch on his face when I find him, I will make you pay so dearly." He punctuated the sentence with a slight tightening of his grip, and the principal made a small, choking sound.

"They found him."

The announcement from Gao Tu cut through the tension like a blade. Shao-you instantly released the principal, throwing the older man back a step. He stalked towards the lawyer, Wenlang following closely behind, his calm facade finally cracking with visible urgency.

The lawyer held up the tablet. A pinprick of light glowed on a digital map. "The police station is in the southern part of the city. The car was traced."

"I will call Pinming" Shao-you snarled, already pulling out his phone, his thumb hovering over his right-hand man’s number.

"No!" Gao Tu’s voice was sharp, a rare, if not the first, display of open defiance towards Shao-you. The gangster’s head snapped up, his eyes darkening to pools of ink. "You and Shen Wenlang should wait in the mansion. I will bring him back."

Shao-you’s laugh was harsh and devoid of humor. "Who do you think you are to stop me from getting my boyfriend?" There was no logic left in him, only a primal need to get to Hua Yong. He moved towards the lawyer, a clear threat in his posture, but a firm hand on his chest stopped him. It was Wenlang.

"That's enough!" Wenlang’s command was absolute. He pushed Shao-you back gently but irresistibly, then turned to Gao Tu, his gaze searching. "He’s right, we will bring him" Wenlang conceded, his words aimed at Shao-you’s incandescent rage.


"If you two go in there now, and find out something was in fact wrong with him, you will both go crazy, and burn the place down. Giving them a reason to arrest you, who will be left to protect him?" He turned his full attention to his boyfriend, his voice softening slightly. "You know you can trust me with A'Yong," Gao Tu said, his words directed at both of them, but his eyes were locked on Shao-you. "I might not show the same fierceness while protecting him as you two, but you know no one can touch him if I am around."

Shao-you wanted to argue, to scream, to tear the world apart until he had Hua Yong back in his arms. But he could trace the cold, infuriating logic in their words. He let out a frustrated, guttural breath and spun around, kicking a nearby decorative stone bench with such force that a crack splintered across its surface.

Wenlang pressed his lips into a thin line, the worry for his partner and his brother warring on his face. He grabbed Gao Tu's shoulder, pulling him aside from the simmering volcano that was Shao-you. "I am not arguing with you," he said in a low voice. "And I trust my brother with you as much as I trust him with me. But your injury..." He pressed gently on Gao Tu's side, near where thick bandages were hidden beneath the fabric of his suit jacket. The gangster had been vehemently against the lawyer even leaving his bed, but Gao Tu had been unmovable the moment he heard Hua Yong was missing.

Gao Tu’s expression was resolute. The pallor of his skin was more noticeable under the harsh afternoon light, but his eyes were clear and determined. "If they took A’Yong with a warrant, even a fake one, he will need a lawyer in that station. If it’s a kidnapping, he will need a negotiator. Either way, I am his best chance for a clean extraction. And I am sure as well you won't trust someone more than me to bring him back." He straightened his jacket "Chang Yu will escort me, and you can summon as many bodyguards as you want to follow at a distance. But I am going, Shen Wenlang."

There was no room for negotiation in his tone. It was the final word. Wenlang stared at him for a long moment, then gave a single, sharp nod. He turned and signaled to a man standing near the cars. "Chang Yu! You have one job. Get him there and back. Understand?"

The man nodded silently.

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

The fluorescent lights of the monitoring room hummed, casting a sickly yellow sheen over the faces of the officers and Kai. The room itself smelled of stale coffee and cigarettes, but the stench of sadism emanating from the screen overpowered the heir of the Dragon gang.

Kai watched from the installed live camera the entire ordeal with a couple of officers. On the screen, the room was bare concrete, and Hua Yong, still stripped of his pants and pinned over that filthy man’s lap. The teenager’s face was pressed into his folded arms, absorbing the relentless impact. But not a single sound escaped Hua Yong’s lips. His head was bowed, hair matted to his forehead with sweat, but the tension in his shoulders, the rigid set of his back, spoke of an internal inferno. His spirit remained a flame, even as his body threatened to betray him. The man delivering the blows, a burly brute with a perpetually scowling face, grew visibly frustrated. His swings became wilder, more aggressive, fuelled by the teenager’s infuriating silence. At more than one point, he paused, grunting a question to one of the other two men in the room, asking them to take over, to break this unyielding boy. But the spanking never stopped for a second

“Tell them to wrap it up, we said they would beat him for an hour and it’s been two. Let’s not ruin a good ass,” Kai drawled, his voice a low purr of amusement. The officers chuckled obediently, their eyes flicking between the gangster and the screen.

“You seem to be interested in that ass,” Sunny entered, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She turned to the screen.

Kai just smirked, a predatory glint in his eyes, but didn’t deny it. His gaze, however, darted back to the teenager on the screen, a primal hunger there. “He’s my long-awaited wine,” he said, a slow, deliberate lick of his lips, a gesture that sent a chill down Sunny’s spine. “I was supposed to eat him after I was done with his mother five years ago, but Shen Wenlang interrupted my dessert time.” He pointed to a jagged scar just below his temple, a stark, angry line against his otherwise smooth skin. “My scar is his older brother’s artwork.”

Sunny raised a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Wasn’t he thirteen back then?”

The older gangster shrugged, a gesture of profound indifference. “He was still cute.” He laughed, a harsh, grating sound, his gaze fixed on the screen.

Meanwhile, in the holding room, a policeman on patrol sneaked behind the steel door, a small, almost imperceptible signal exchanged with the three men. Their boss, the one delivering the blows, nodded. He roughly yanked Hua Yong up by the hair, dragging him from his slumped position on the floor. The teenager wasn't released, not truly. Instead, they pinned him against the closest wall, his legs and shoulders held immobile by the other two men. His breath hitched, a faint gasp escaping his lips.

The boss spat a razor blade from his mouth into his palm. He moved it slowly, deliberately, tracing the sharp edge along Hua Yong’s face. It wasn’t pressed deep enough to injure him, it was a macabre ballet of intimidation, until his hand descended, cold and unyielding, to the teenager’s neck, finding the delicate pulse of his jugular vein. He pressed harder, a thin line of red appearing, tiny drops of blood blooming on the pale skin. He leaned in close, his foul breath washing over Hua Yong’s face.

“Listen, kiddo,” he hissed, his voice a low, gravelly threat. “The adults in the other room will ask you some questions. If you don’t answer in thirty minutes, we will meet again. And if this happens, your pretty ass won’t be only used for licking and spanking, and your pretty face will no longer be pretty.”

Hua Yong’s chest heaved, each breath a battle. Every nerve screamed, a symphony of agony and alert. His fighting spirit was a guttering candle flame, but it hadn’t gone out. He met the man’s gaze, his own eyes bold and unbroken, but said nothing.

A second later, they released him. One of the gangsters efficiently pulled up the teenager’s uniform pants, concealing their attacks, as if nothing had happened. Their boss gave a clean, sharp knock on the door, and a police officer walked in to take him.

A police officer entered to escort Hua Yong, his  hand found Hua Yong's neck, guiding him through the station towards an interrogation room. "I'd listen to them if I were you," the policeman warned, his voice a low rumble. Hua Yong almost laughed at their shamelessness. The police were openly colluding with criminals, their attempts to intimidate him barely concealed.

“STOP!”

For what felt like forever, the teenager heard a familiar voice. It was Gao Tu, his polished voice cutting through the dull noise of the precinct. The lawyer was flanked by some of the most serious-looking men from the Guowang organization—silent bodyguards who blocked their way entirely.

Gao Tu took a second, a precious, excruciating beat, to examine the younger male’s face. The sight sent a cold dread through him. Hua Yong’s lips were split open, visibly blue, swollen and bruised. His face, normally vibrant with youthful energy, was ashen, as white as ice. But the worst thing, the thing that truly twisted Gao Tu’s gut, was the teenager not meeting his gaze, his eyes fixed on some distant, unseen point, devoid of their usual fire. His heart clenched.

“Why is he handcuffed from the back?” Gao Tu’s voice was predatory, a low growl that promised retribution. He knew the law inside and out, and he wasn’t going to spare anyone who dared to overstep. The handcuffs, cinched behind Hua Yong, were a clear violation, a deliberate act of humiliation and restriction.

The young officer, caught off guard, tried to hold his act, his veneer of innocence crumbling. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “How would I know? He came like this. He must have shown a lot of violence and resistance.”

The lie was transparent, flimsy…

Liars... Gao Tu thought, his gaze hardening. He knew Hua Yong was smarter than this, too calculating to show open resistance and give them an excuse. Even the partial videos he had managed to watch of Hua Yong being detained and brought in, showed no violence from his side, only a chillingly stoic acceptance.

“We will see about that later…” The lawyer’s voice was louder now, sharp and unwavering, but his eyes, though fixed on the young officer, occasionally darted back to Hua Yong, a silent promise of protection. “Where’s the officer in charge of the case?”

“I am in charge.” A man walked in, his face etched with the weariness of middle age. He was about forty, the same man Gao Tu had seen in the videos, the one who had broken Hua Yong’s phone and handcuffed him with such casual brutality. A wave of cold recognition washed over Gao Tu.

“What are the bases of your arrest? How was my client linked to Jie Bing’s death?” Gao Tu had regained his full posture, every inch the ruthless, meticulous lawyer. He stood tall, his presence filling the sterile space.

The officer bit his lips, a nervous habit. He had expected Gao Tu to be oblivious about the real reason for the arrest, or at least unprepared for such a direct assault. But the lawyer was well-prepared, alarmingly so. There was a huge chance he had already prepared enough to take the teenager home, dismantling their carefully constructed charade. “We have an eyewitness that saw him near the corpse,” he lied, quickly fabricating a reason. If he wanted to avoid the disciplinary committee, which was still controlled by the Guowangs, he needed a good reason to justify keeping the teenager for almost nine hours. A reason that needed to be given now. A witness could always be ‘casted’ later, or simply disappear.

“What’s the ETD?” Gao Tu pressed, his gaze unblinking.

The officer bit his lips again, harder this time. They had already prepared the file with the fabricated details, but he hadn’t anticipated Gao Tu finding them so soon, so he hadn’t had enough time to thoroughly check. He stumbled, searching for the right lie. “Can’t confirm. Today morning from six am to eight thirty.” He answered, praying it was right, knowing the Dragon Gang had said they killed him earlier that morning.

The lawyer didn’t quiver, didn’t flinch. He reached into his leather bag and pulled out a thick stack of documents and a USB device. “These are all my client’s alibis since morning. You have the original dash camera video from the three cars that escorted him to school. There’s also the surveillance camera showing him walking out of his mansion this morning at six thirty. And another camera showing his arrival yesterday after school, with no cuts until morning, confirming he never left the premises. You will also see nine witnesses that can confirm my client was in school since seven AM. Not to mention the school’s own cameras and the fact that my client was shown in two selfie photos in the background from two different students in the school, time-stamped well within your ‘ETD’.” Gao Tu paused, letting the weight of the evidence hang in the air. Then, he delivered the final, crushing blow, his voice dripping with professional disdain: “Your eyewitness must be face-blind.”

The lawyer turned to the young officer still holding Hua Yong, his gaze now an order. “Release him.” He didn’t even look at the officer in charge, not needing to. He knew that man had fucked a long list of rules already and wouldn’t dare to do more, knowing the legal repercussions now guaranteed by Gao Tu’s presence. The younger officer, receiving a silent, defeated nod from his superior, fumbled with the handcuffs, finally uncuffing the teenager.

Gao Tu then did something unexpected, something profoundly tender in the harsh, cold environment. He took off his expensive tuxedo blazer, a garment of fine wool and impeccable tailoring, and placed it gently over Hua Yong’s shoulders. He had felt the chill himself when he first set foot into the station; seeing the teenager in his half-sleeve school uniform, pale and shivering, was already pretty telling of how freezing he must be feeling. Hua Yong didn’t move, didn’t protest. He silently accepted the extra layer of warmth.

The lawyer could tell something was awfully bad, worse than he had even imagined from the videos. He was silently thanking every Greek god that Shao-you and Wenlang hadn’t come themselves to pick him up; it would have been a bloodbath, a violent storm that would have engulfed the entire station. “Are you okay?” he whispered, his voice low and concerned, one arm slipping around the student’s waist, a subtle gesture to offer support.

“I am fine…” Hua Yong replied, his voice a faint, reedy whisper, barely audible.

He wasn’t, not by a long shot. But this was another story, for another time. Gao Tu looked over his shoulder at the officer in charge, a silent, chilling promise in his eyes. “We will meet again, officer,” he warned, rather than greeted, already leading the younger male out of the police station.

Just as they reached the entrance, a figure stepped into their path, a smirk twisting his lips. “Our skillful Gao Tu is here,” Kai mocked, intercepting their way. “I heard you were bleeding heavily on your last public appearance.” His eyes swept over Hua Yong, lingering for a perverse moment, before flicking back to Gao Tu.

The lawyer’s arm around Hua Yong’s frame tightened instinctively. He was both sheltering the teenager, pulling him closer, and suppressing a surge of white-hot anger that threatened to consume him. It was clear as the sun that both incidents, this monstrous abuse of Hua Yong and Gao Tu’s own recent, brutal attack were orchestrated by Kai and his father. “Not as much as you bled the last time you dared to hurt Hua Yong,” Gao Tu challenged, his voice low, a soft hiss of warning. “It makes you wonder what kind of surprise awaits you now, doesn’t it?” His threat was clear, unambiguous, and delivered with chilling precision.

“Come on,” he added tenderly to the student, his voice softening, guiding Hua Yong towards the waiting car, away from Kai’s toxic presence.

The car ride was long, but silent, broken only by the hum of the engine. Gao Tu didn’t push any attempts at conversation on the younger male. Hua Yong seemed utterly worn out, too exhausted, too traumatized even to string together a coherent line of logic. His body was stiff, his eyes distant, his breathing shallow. Gao Tu offered him water, multiple times, his voice gentle and coaxing, but the student refused every time. Just the mention of it, the thought of it,  made him recall the nine hours of his inhumane treatment, the forced dryness, the desperate thirst that had only deepened his agony. The older male watched him, a knot of worry tightening in his chest.

Shao-you and Wenlang were both standing by the wrought-iron gate of the mansion, their faces etched with anxious anticipation. They had rarely stepped foot forward into the mansion since they had finished their business at the school, clearing Hua Yong’s name and ensuring his alibi was undeniably solid. They felt a primal need to be there, waiting, watching.

Gao Tu walked out of the car first, a somber expression on his face. It took a few more minutes for Hua Yong to slowly, haltingly, follow. Wenlang, walked to him first, being closer, his heart hammering against his ribs. He hugged Hua Yong tightly, desperately needing to feel him in his arms, to confirm his presence, his safety. The teenager’s arms, however, remained down, hanging limply at his sides, unmoving, unresponsive. Wenlang looked over Hua Yong’s head, his gaze pleading with Gao Tu for answers. The lawyer only shook his head, a silent, he didn’t know anything.

The hug was soon broken. Hua Yong took a few unsteady steps towards his boyfriend, who stood rooted to the spot, his face a mask of profound worry. Hua Yong had an unreadable expression on his face, a mix of exhaustion, pain, and something else, something broken. “A’Yong…” Shao-you stated, his voice thick with concern, looking at his young boyfriend, studying him, desperate to understand what had happened.

The student only looked at him briefly, his eyes meeting Shao-you’s for a fleeting moment, a spark of recognition, of connection, before his gaze glazed over. Then, his eyes shut, slowly, as if the effort was too much. His body, suddenly devoid of any support, any will, fell numbly, like a fallen leaf severed from its branch. It was only Shao-you’s arms, quick as lightning, that prevented his body from touching the cold ground.

“Get the doctor!” Shen Wenlang shouted, his voice cracking with urgency as he ran to the teenager, Chen Yu’s hand already reaching for his phone.

“A’Yong,” Shao-you whispered, his voice laced with terror, his fingers gently touching the male’s ashen face. He was too taken by the meeting and the sudden collapse to notice the fresh injury on his lips, the faint tracing of blood on his neck, the tell-tale signs of the unimaginable trauma he had endured. He bit his own lips, a mixture of rage and fear warring within him, before slipping his arms under Hua Yong, lifting the unconscious teenager carefully, protectively, in his arms, and running back towards their room.

Chapter Text

Guowang gang's most trusted doctor hadn't predicted this call, not in his dreams. Most of the time he would be asked to come to attend for Shao-you and Wenlang's wounds, the inevitable results of territorial disputes. Occasionally he would tend Gao Tao's injuries; as the gang’s most important pillar after Shao-you and Wenlang, he was an occasional target to rivals. The last time was less than a week ago after he was stabbed. A messy affair, but routine.

But Hua Yong?

The teenager barely had his share of any danger. The Guowang's head treated him less like an heir and more like a sacred artifact, insulated from the violent reality of their lives. There were mere attempts of kidnaps that always ended up failing spectacularly, thanks to the paranoid-level security surrounding him. If he counted the time he had visited Hua Yong, it wouldn't be more than three times annually, and for things like fever or a sour throat. Mundane, civilian ailments.

But the tone of Chang Yu’s voice on the phone had been different. Flattened. A cold, controlled fury that promised a storm. Doctor Tian knew then that this was not a fever.

The scene in Hua Yong’s lavish bedroom confirmed it. The air was thick with a silent, volatile energy. Gao Tao, his own recent injury forgotten, was meticulously tucking a blanket around the teenager’s still form on the bed, his movements uncharacteristically gentle. Shen Wenlang was on his knees, carefully untying the sneakers from the boy’s feet. Shao-you stood rigid by the headboard, his knuckles white as he gently patted the younger male’s head, his gaze fixed on Hua Yong’s pale face as if he could will consciousness back into him.

And the boy… he was so still. A marble effigy laid out on the silk sheets.

The doctor’s professional eye bypassed the flurry of activity, homing in instantly on the wrists. The call briefing had mentioned handcuffs. But these were not the marks of mere restraint. The flesh was a ruin of torn skin and brutalized muscle, the wounds deep and angry, rimmed with the tell-tale bruising of constant, violent struggle against unyielding metal. These cuffs hadn’t been used to hold him; they’d been used to grind him down, a deliberate method of torture to inflict maximum pain and damage over time.

A cold dread, a sensation Dr. Tian hadn’t felt since his own near-fatal encounter, settled heavy in his gut. He looked from the boy’s pale, still face to the telltale injuries, and a chilling certainty bloomed. Hua Yong’s slender body, concealed beneath his clothes, was undoubtedly a canvas etched with scars and secrets far more profound than any fever or errant fall could inflict.

"Can everyone please step out!” Tian started, his voice a low, hard command that cut through the anxious silence.

The pillars of the Guowang gang froze. They exchanged quick, unreadable glances. “Is that necessary?” Wenlang tried to reason, his tone respectful, but edged with proprietary doubt. “We can assist. We need to know what happened.”

Tian shook his head once, sharply. “He needs privacy and a complete clinical examination. If you want him to wake up and tell you anything, you must allow me to work.”

Gao Tao, without a word, pushed himself to his feet. He met Tian’s gaze a shared acknowledgement, he then nodded towards the door. Shao-you and Wenlang followed suit, forced by the quiet authority of the older man and the doctor’s unshakeable control. They walked out, Gao Tao securing the heavy door behind them. Doctor Tian was one of the few people who was allowed this amount of authority and control over these three males, after all. He was the Hua family’s doctor before the head was eliminated... He was seen less as a hired hand and more as a custodian of the health of their legacy.

Alone, the room fell into a profound silence broken only by Hua Yong’s shallow, ragged breathing. Doctor Tian approached the bed. He first placed a practiced hand on the teenager’s forehead, finding it clammy and cool, a sign of shock.

His hands then went to his shirt. With a medic’s efficient care, he began to undress him.

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

Xu Song breathed in, the lavender scent working its magic to feign relaxation upon muscles perpetually coiled with tension. 

There were three women diligently working their magic, their hands tenderly kneading the body of the crime lord submerged in the vast, sunken bath. Xu Song’s gaze was fixed on the expensive statue of Aphrodite on his side, and occasionally the ceiling painted with ancient, forgotten mythological beasts.

“Bring me a cigar, Helda,” the man ordered, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that demanded absolute obedience.

The girls around him tittered, a sound meant to convey amusement and submission. One of them, a blonde with eyes the color of a winter sky, gracefully extricated herself from the water. She selected a dark, tightly-rolled cigar from a humidor on a nearby teak stand and brought it to his lips.

“My name is Natasha,” she offered gently, her gaze lowered, holding the long wooden match until the tip of the expensive tobacco bloom crackled into light

The flame flared, illuminating the hard, ancient lines of Xu Song’s face. Before she could bring it to the cigar, his hand shot out of the water, moving with a viper’s speed. He locked his gnarled fingers around her wrist, his grip impossibly strong. The match burned dangerously close to her skin.

“You’re a Helda,” he said, his voice devoid of any warmth, “until I decide to change that.”

He held her there, forcing her to keep the flame alive, watching her eyes widen not with fear, but with a simmering, contained defiance. He could feel the minute tremors in her arm, the strain of her muscles fighting to pull away. He held her until the fire was a mere heartbeat from searing her flesh, then, with a dismissive flick of his will, he released her. The match sizzled out as it hit the water. Natasha retreated a step, cradling her wrist, her jaw clenched tight against the tears that welled in her eyes but did not fall.

From a plush velvet chair across the room, a younger man watched, a lazy, cruel smile playing on his lips. The heir to the Dragon Gang’s throne, rested with predatory indolence. He pointed at the zipper of his tailored pants.

“Come here, sweetie,” Kai called, his tone a mocking sing-song.

Natasha took a single, steadying breath. The humiliation in Xu Song’s eyes was a command in itself. She walked to Kai, her bare feet silent on the cool floor. She knelt, her movements mechanical, and did as she was bid, she opened the pants, and started sucking on his member with efficiency.

Kai let his head fall back against the chair with a satisfied sigh. “I can’t believe you missed Gao-Tu’s face today,” Kai bragged to his father, his voice slightly strained. “The way Hua Yong looked like a broken toy. I thought our little lawyer was going to have a stroke right there. But I would have paid millions just to see Shao-you and Wenlang”

Xu Song didn’t bother to look at his son. He took a long, contemplative pull on his cigar, filling his lungs with smoke. “I will have enough time to look at Gao-Tu’s face when he’s under my feet. One can’t be too greedy. I will enjoy my victory for now until I have these four in my grip.”

Kai’s grabbed a fistful of Natasha’s hair, pushing her down harder, forcing himself deep into her throat. She didn’t protest, protest was a luxury that had no place in this room, but her body struggled instinctively against the violation. Kai ignored it, his focus on his father. “So, I gather our goods have successfully made it through the port? All of it?”

 
Xu Song finally turned his head, a wicked smirk carving through the cigar smoke. “All two hundred tons of the Taipan gang’s newest drug formula. ‘Lilith Dream'. I knew the moment they heard that boy was in danger they would act like little bitches and let their guard down” He reached over to a small lacquered box beside the bath and retrieved a tiny, transparent plastic bag filled with a powder of the most vivid, electric blue. He tossed it through the air. It landed on Kai’s chest.

Kai roughly pushed Natasha aside, leaving her coughing on her knees. He poured a small mound of the azure powder onto the back of his hand, his movements eager, practiced. He brought his hand to his nose and inhaled sharply. The effect was instantaneous. His eyes, already glazed with entitlement, now glossed over with something else, a profound, surreal clarity. The world seemed to sharpen and slow down all at once. A wide, unnerving smile spread across his face.

“Interesting,” Kai breathed, the word dripping with dark potential. He looked from the blue powder to his father, a new, shared understanding passing between them. “So, we have a month?”

“We have a month to sell it,” Xu Song corrected, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial growl. “Then, we will be the kings of P’nation again. The head of the Taipan syndicate has promised his full support once we complete our end of the deal. This,” he said, gesturing with his cigar to the bag in Kai’s hand, to the woman on the floor, to the opulent room, “is just the beginning.”

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

Shao-you looked at his Rolex, the ninth time since the doctor asked them to leave the room. It had been an hour of agonizing silence, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the movement inside the room. A nurse had been ushered in almost thirty minutes ago, only to reappear minutes later, her face pale, providing no comfort or information.

The younger head of the Guowang gang turned to Wenlang, his eyes blazing with restrained violence. Gao-Tu was caressing Wenlang’s shoulder tenderly, a silent reassurance that did little to soothe the tension. It was pure torture to wait any longer. Shao-you’s mind had played a movie of him kicking the door down a dozen times, but a deeper, more terrifying fear held him back: that any disruption might pull the doctor’s focus away from Hua Yong.

The soft click of the door handle was a gunshot in the quiet. The doctor emerged, his face etched with a professional gravity that made Shao-you’s blood run cold. He merely gestured, and the three men moved as one, filing into the room.

Hua Yong lay on his stomach, deep in a drug-induced sleep, his body pale against the stark white sheets. He was naked except for a small towel draped over his buttocks. A cannula was taped to the back of his left hand. The terrifying blue tinge was gone from his lips. His wrists were neatly bandaged, as was the small wound on his neck.

Shao-you went straight to the head of the bed, his own large hand finding its way into the teenager's silky black hair, a grounding touch for them both. Wenlang stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes drinking in the sight of his younger brother, alive, before he forced himself to sit beside Gao-Tu, directly across from the doctor.

“Please have a seat,” the doctor said, his voice low. He waited a beat, giving them a moment, before beginning. “A’Yong was hypothermic when he came in, 34 degrees. A direct result of prolonged exposure to cold. He was also severely dehydrated.” The doctor took a sharp breath, steeling himself. He hated this part, not just because of his personal fondness for the teenager, but because he could see the volatile anger simmering in the eyes of the two powerful men before him.

“His body was at its absolute limit. But, I doubt the exposure has caused any lasting mental damage.” He bit his lip, the precursor to worse news. “Other than his visible injuries, however…”

With a touch too tender for the horror it revealed, the doctor carefully moved the towel. A collective, silent shockwave went through the room. Wenlang’s breath hitched, strangled in his throat. Shao-you’s head snapped up from looking at Hua Yong’s face.

The boy’s buttocks were a canvas of brutal, violent bruising. Some were a deep, angry purple, others a sickening blackish-blue. This wasn't from a fall. These are hand marks,” the doctor said quietly, pointing to one side where the clear imprint of four fingers and a thumb were stark against the pale skin. “I would say he was spanked. Repeatedly. And with extreme violence.”

Wenlang began to shake, a fine tremor of pure, undiluted rage. The image of some faceless monster laying hands on his brother in such a way made his vision swim.

Crunch…

Shao-you’s fist went through the drywall beside the bed, plaster dust raining down. He didn’t need to hear another word. He just needed names. He would get every single name from that cursed police station and carve his vengeance into their bones.

“Was he also…” Gao-Tu interrupted, his voice unusually tight. There was a silent, grim understanding that passed between him and the doctor, a legal and medical shorthand that soared over the two males’ heads for a crucial, agonizing second.

“No,” the doctor said quickly, firmly. “His anal sphincter is intact and shows no signs of trauma. He wasn’t assaulted in that way.”

The clarification hung in the air. Shen Wenlang and Sheng Shao-you stared, the new, horrific possibility they had never even assumed now poison in their minds. The relief that he had been spared that particular violation was microscopic, utterly devoured by the fury of what had been done.

The door burst open. “Boss!” Chen Pinming, stood there panting, barely catching his breath. “Xu Song, he brought—”

“I don’t need this right now!” Shao-you roared, his voice raw as he immediately readjusted the towel to shield Hua Yong’s body from any other eyes. “Unless they’re breaking down our doors, it can wait until tomorrow!”

Gao-Tu turned to Wenlang. They exchanged a look. The lawyer saw it clearly: Shao-you was gone, his entire world reducted to the people who made his boyfriend suffer. He was in no state to lead.

“I will handle this, Shao-you,” Wenlang said, his voice strained but firm. He stood, leaned over, and pressed a long, fierce kiss to his little brother’s temple. He then met Shao-you’s burning gaze. “Burn them all down for me”. 

With a final, lingering look at Hua Yong’s sleeping form, Wenlang led Gao-Tu, the doctor and Pinming out of the room. The door clicked shut, sealing away the outside world and its problems.

Silence descended, broken only by the steady breaths of both male. Alone at last, Sheng Shao-you’s eyes flickered dangerously. His eyes never leaving Hua Yong’s face. He gently brushed a stray strand of hair from the boy’s forehead, his touch feather-light.

“A’Yong” he whispered, the words vowed into the quiet. “Sleep tightly, until I come back”

       ~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

Shen Wenlang paced the cavernous, empty container, the echo of his footsteps the only sound besides the hushed breathing of his two companions.

There were only three of them: Shen Wenlang,, moving like a razor blade wrapped in silk; Pinming, whose calm eyes missed nothing; and a port official in a cheap, ill-fitting suit that seemed to wilt under the sheer pressure of their presence.

The Guowang gangs heads never did this. they didn’t inspect territories personally. Their names were only whispered in expensive bars and gritty back alleys, more myth than men. If one was here, in this dim, empty box, meant the world was tilting on its axis.

Wenlang’s polished oxfords stopped. He crouched, his expensive trousers straining slightly, and brushed a gloved finger against the grimy floor. It came away dusted with a faint, crystalline blue powder. He didn’t need to speak. He glanced up, a silent command. Pinming was already moving, producing a monogrammed silk napkin from his breast pocket with practiced ease. He meticulously collected the powder, his movements precise and unhurried.

Wenlang turned to the portman, who was practically vibrating with a mixture of terror and awe. Just the fact that he was being personally addressed by a Guowang head was an event that would be carved into his memory.

"So, what made you think it was drugs?" Wenlang asked, his voice even, devoid of inflection, yet demanding absolute truth.

The portman startled, his rehearsed speech momentarily forgotten. "Well… sir," he stammered, his eyes darting between Wenlang's impassive face and Pinming's silent, watchful presence. "I have been working in this port for eleven years now. I was younger back then, desperate for money, so I would do anything if it meant getting paid. Back then, this port territory belonged to The Sheng Family. The Dragon Gang couldn't easily smuggle drugs per the agreement of the four family heads."

Wenlang nodded slowly, a thin finger reaching into his jacket pocket for a cigarette. The flame of his lighter flickered. He took a long drag, the smoke curling around him like a silent invitation for the story to continue. From the details he had heard he knew, this would be long.

The portman, emboldened by the silent permission, plowed on. "Xu Song, he used to be the one. He'd smuggle drugs into some of his club drinks. They'd put water into the bottles, then we'd evaporate the water later, leaving only the drugs behind."

Wenlang paused, exhaled a plume of smoke. "So, this container came in with supposed alcoholic drinks?"

The portman eagerly nodded. "Yes, sir! Wine, to be exact. High-end stuff. We didn't know anything this afternoon, but when I was moving the boxes, a bottle fell. It was a '98 vintage, very expensive. We're supposed to report breakages, but… I couldn't afford to pay for it from my salary. I owe people a lot of money." His voice trailed off, a hint of desperation creeping in.

Shen Wenlang pressed his lips together, a silent signal for the man to continue, to get to the point. He had no time for sob stories.

The portman understood, nodding frantically. "Yes, yes, of course, sir. So, I didn't tell anyone. I decided to finish moving the boxes and just clear the evidence myself. But when I returned later, the water had already evaporated because of the heat in the container. Only powder remained. That's when I knew. I knew Xu family was back in the game. And I thought the Guowang gang would want to know since this port is now your territory." He managed a small, self-satisfied smirk, convinced he had brought information worthy of a Guowang head's personal attention.

"Thank you for your loyalty," Wenlang said, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. He signaled to Pinming, who stepped forward and handed the portman a leather bag, heavy and supple. "This should cover ten times the amount of your debts."

Wenlang turned, taking a step towards the container's open door, then paused, looking back over his shoulder. "I hope our little meeting becomes our little secret," he said, his voice dropping, losing its earlier neutrality. The smile remained, but it was no longer friendly. It was dark, predatory, sending a shiver of ice down the portman's spine. "Because if you spill, I will make sure that both our gang and the Dragons chase you to the ends of this world."

Pinming, who had been watching the portman's terrified face with a hint of amusement, turned and followed the Guowang head out into the fading light of the port.

"Pinming," Wenlang called, already walking purposefully towards his waiting car, his mind already spinning scenarios, strategies. "I want you to find these goods by tomorrow, but keep it subtle. Once you locate them, move them all to that location."

~𝜗~𝜚 ~𝜚~𝜗~

The world returned to Hua Yong not as a sudden jolt, but as the slow, heavy ascent from the suffocating depths of an anesthetic sleep. For a moment, his consciousness floated in a cold, echoing space illuminated by fluorescent tubes and the sterile smell of cheap disinfectant. The station. That cold, grinding terror was the last thing his mind clung to.

He blinked, the light filtering through the heavy silk curtains of his master room, too soft, too golden for the nightmare he had just left. He registered the rich scent of sandalwood and expensive cologne, a stark contrast to the stale sweat and fear from his memory. Guo-tu. The memory solidified: Guo-tu’s had got him out of there earlier… then the blur of the ride, and the blessed oblivion as he was deposited back into the safety of the Guowang territory and mansion.

He turned toward the wall clock. 4:57 AM. Nine hours he had been granted peace.

He attempted to shift, a dull ache throbbing deep in his ribs and across his joints, but found his movement impeded by a warm, solid weight. He was encased, completely, in the strong, familiar embrace of Shao-you. The gangster’s arm was a vise around his waist, pulling the smaller body snugly against his chest, their limbs inextricably tangled beneath the fine satin duvet.

“Shao-you…” Hua Yong murmured, his voice gritty and thin, barely loud enough to carry through the quiet room. But the response was immediate. The tight grip vanished, replaced by a seismic shift of energy. Shao-you was not simply awake; he was instantly coiled and alert.

“A’Yong!” Shao-you pulled both of them upright, his hands moving with efficient, practiced speed. He cupped Hua Yong’s face, tracing the pale skin under his eyes, then moved to take his hands, checking the pulse, the temperature, the overall response rate. “Do you feel any pain?”

“I am fine,” Hua Yong stated weakly, but the truth resonated in the slight tremor running through his frame. He didn't want to talk about it. Instead, he simply collapsed forward, burying his face into the familiar, powerful bulk of the Head of the Guowang Gang’s embrace. He needed the undeniable reality of this man’s presence.

Shao-you held him fast, his own pulse thundering beneath the younger male’s ear. “I will call Doctor Tian,” he suggested, reaching for the phone resting on the nightstand.

“No,” Hua Yong stopped him, catching his wrist. “I don’t want a doctor.” He bit his lip, the hesitation evident. The physical pain was manageable, but the mental contamination felt absolute. “Can I shower?”

Shao-you watched the teenager’s face. Hua Yong was leaning heavily into him; his body was barely holding itself together. Yet, the request was presented with a quiet urgency. Shao-you did not need the details. He didn't need to hear about the foul-mouthed criminal who had licked him. He simply recognized the deep, pervasive need for cleansing, for erasure. The teenager felt dirty, unworthy of the pristine bed, unworthy of Shao-you’s unblemished adoration.

Shao-you offered no argument. He simply nodded, his expression softening to a mask of infinite patience, before he slid gently out of the bed.

Hua Yong waited only a few minutes. The sound of water running signaled preparation, and then Shao-you returned, lifting the tired body tenderly into his arms. He carried him out of the bedroom and into the adjacent bathroom, a palace of dark marble and polished jade. The enormous bathtub, carved from a single piece of dark green gemstone, was already steaming, the air thick and warm with humidity and the scent of expensive essential oils.

Shao-you did not drop him in. He hugged Hua Yong to his chest, sinking slowly into the hot water until they were both submerged, the heat immediately beginning to loosen the knots of tension in Hua Yong’s back.

The gangster’s hands were gentle. He didn't use soap immediately. Instead, he simply ran the pads of his fingers lightly over Hua Yong’s skin, rinsing away the lingering residue of confinement, touching him with a tenderness that spoke volumes of reverence and possession.

Hua Yong leaned back, his head resting squarely on Shao-you’s naked chest, listening to the solid, rhythmic beat of his heart. He felt protected, cherished, and utterly safe.

“Did you stay with me all along?” he asked, the question laced with the unspoken fear that Shao-you might have left him, even for a moment.

Shao-you’s eyes, visible above Hua Yong’s head, flickered dangerously, momentarily losing their tender focus. A cold, hard light sparked within the dark irises a reflection of the past four hours he had just spent.

~𝜗~𝜚 ~Flashback~𝜚~𝜗~

The underground holding facility was Shao-you’s private domain, carved deep beneath an unused industrial park far outside the city limits. It smelled of ozone, concrete dust, and the sharp, metallic tang of blood.

The police officer who had instigated Hua Yong’s arrest, the one who had gleefully confined the teenager’s wrists violently was currently suspended upside down from a steel gantry. His uniform was ripped, his face was swollen and bloody, and he was swaying gently, illuminated only by bare, harsh bulbs. Beneath him, protected by thick, transparent polycarbonate walls, was a large, murky pool where three large Nile crocodiles silently cruised. The air thrummed with the low, menacing growl of the reptiles.

“Let me go, you lowly life scum!” the man screamed, his voice strained and raw.

But Shao-you’s focus was not on the dangling officer. He stood before the second target: the interrogator, the man who had laid his hand on Hua Yong multiple times. This officer was strapped to a chair, trembling violently. He hadn't been touched yet, but he had witnessed the hour-long, systematic dismantling of his cohort.

Shao-you, immaculate even in this hellish environment, wore a tailored grey suit. He exhaled a plume of thick cigarette smoke, watching it drift toward the ceiling. The Guowang Gang might have suffered some regulatory setbacks, losing certain footholds in the mainstream judicial and police departments, but their network of ears and eyes remained absolute. He knew everything.

“What made you think you could put your hand on him? How stupid can you actually be!” Shao-you asked, his voice low, measured, and utterly devoid of emotion.

The officer in the chair tried to speak, but only managed a whimper. Fear was a powerful muzzle.

Shao-you released a frustrated, theatrical sigh. He signaled to one of the men behind him, a bulky guard, who stepped forward holding a cannister. He doused the strapped policeman with a generous amount of Diethyl ether. The chemical soaked quickly into the fabric of the man’s clothing and hair, causing him to shriek in sudden panic. “I am afraid this is going to hurt more than it should,” Shao-you observed mildly, stepping back slightly to admire his work.

The policeman was sobbing now, incoherent pleas bubbling up and dying in his throat.

Without a second thought, Shao-you dropped the lit end of his cigarette. It arced through the air and landed squarely on the officer’s knee.

The ignition was instantaneous. A blinding sheet of blue and orange fire erupted, consuming the ether-soaked man. The scream was deafening, a sound of pure, immediate agony.

Shao-you watched the writhing form coolly, his expression unchanged, until a glint of metal caught his eye, a flash of polished platinum on the burning man's wrist, the object shielded by the policeman's flailing arms.

It was Hua Yong’s watch. The watch Wenlang had given him for his eighteenth birthday that originally belonged to his father, the one Hua Yong never took off.

Instinct blinding out reason, Shao-you moved. He ignored the scorching heat radiating from the inferno, reaching into the flames and seizing the wristwatch. He ripped it free of the man’s wrist, the scent of burning hair and flesh assaulting him.

“Boss!” A bodyguard rushed forward, grabbing Shao-you by the shoulders and pulling him forcefully back just as the flames licked dangerously close to his sleeve.

Shao-you held the watch tightly in his fist, inspecting it. Miraculously, the casing was intact, though covered in ash and soot. His own hand, however, was not so lucky. The skin across his knuckles and the back of his fingers was already blistering and turning an angry, painful red.

“Take this and clean it up,” Shao-you commanded, his detached composure instantly returning. He handed the watch to the bodyguard. “Thoroughly. Not a single trace of this filth to remain on it.”

The bodyguard nodded, slipping the contaminated piece into a sealed pouch. Another aide immediately rushed forward, pouring a cooling saline solution over Shao-you’s raw hand, which the gangster accepted without flinching. His gaze remained fixed on the burning man, who was now beginning to slump, the fire finally consuming the last of the flammable chemicals.

“Everyone will know it was you, Shao-you! They will arrest you for this!” the first officer, still suspended above the crocodiles, shouted hysterically after watching his partner perish.

Shao-you turned toward him, a chillingly aggressive smirk stretching his lips.“I want them to know, officer. In fact, I need them to know that anyon…anyone, who might consider hurting Hua Yong will end up regretting the day they drew breath.” He paused, letting the silence emphasize his cold rage. “But worry not. No one will arrest me for this. Otherwise, the man who ordered you to take him would be rotting in prison, and not giving you lot orders.”

He gave a sharp, downward signal to the men managing the hydraulic winch. The cable holding the upside-down officer began to descend slowly.

“Stop! Nooo!” the man screamed, his voice dissolving into pathetic, high-pitched pleas as he was lowered toward the edge of the pit.

Shao-you watched the Nile crocodiles begin to stir, their dark, scaly bodies gliding quickly toward the center of the tank. “Stop that! You will only make them more aggressive,” Shao-you said, a cruel amusement lacing his voice. He laughed softly, watching the crocodiles jump clumsily, snapping their jaws, until one, faster and more opportunistic than the others, managed to take the man's head in a sudden, sickening snap. “Idiot…” Shao-you muttered, turning away from the gruesome scene.

“Boss.” One of the men approached with a tablet. “It’s done.”

Shao-you took the tablet. He watched the screen, a live feed from the penal institution. The three criminals who had cornered and spanked Hua Yong were now surfacing the cell’s floor, their bodies twitching. All their hands, the instruments of their violation, were cut off and lying in small, bloody piles near the drain.

The male smirked at the scene, a flash of utter satisfaction momentarily replacing the rage in his eyes. “Take his tongue too,” Shao-you ordered, referring to the leader of the trio. He handed the tablet back to the subordinate and walked out, the rhythmic crunching sounds of the crocodiles still fighting over the policeman's remains echoing behind him.

~𝜗~𝜚 ~End of Flashback~𝜚~𝜗~

Shao-you’s intense gaze softened instantly as he came back to the present. He adjusted Hua Yong in his arms, resting his chin on the teen’s damp hair.

“I have only gone out for a little while, my angel,” he murmured, his voice utterly steady, concealing the hour of fire and blood he’d experienced. He leaned down and placed a small, proprietorial peck on Hua Yong’s lips.

He rubbed the back of his now-bandaged hand idly against the marble rim of the bath, the pain a small, irrelevant sacrifice.

“By the way,” Shao-you added, his thumb gently tracing the younger male’s jawline. “Your watch is polished and ready for you to wear it whenever you need it.”

Hua Yong opened his eyes. He knew exactly what that meant. The question, the fear, the lingering stain, all of it had been erased, meticulously and brutally, by the men holding him. The watch had been retrieved from the flames of revenge.

Hua Yong didn't need to ask about anything any more. Shao-you had simply provided the ultimate, most tangible proof of his devotion: he had gone out and destroyed the world that dared to touch him. The police officers, the criminals, they were gone, eliminated by Shao-you’s protective devotion.

He smiled, a dark, small upturn of the lips that acknowledged the monstrous lengths of Shao-you's possessive love, before kissing the gangster back. This time, it wasn't a weak, seeking kiss for comfort, but a deep, knowing acceptance of the dangerous, dark anchor that Shao-you was in his life.