Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Hua Cheng awoke the next day, feeling warm and refreshed, with the duvet carefully tucked around him and a red sticky note stuck to the edge of his pillow.

Yawning and blinking the sleep from his eye, he reached out with a lazy hand and peeled the note away from the fabric.

Kitchen, it said in elegant scrawl.

A surge of giddiness made Hua Cheng's heart sing, and a drowsy smile curled his lips.

Xie Lian was here.

In his house.

With a happy sigh, he rolled on his side and plucked his cell phone off the nightstand.

4 PM.

Staring at the screen in astonishment, Hua Cheng sat upright.

He'd slept for nearly fourteen hours.

Apparently, his gege was better than any sleeping pill.

Laughing softly, Hua Cheng threw off the blanket and hopped out of the bed, stretching his arms and cracking his back on his way to the bathroom.

After a quick shower, he brushed his teeth, slipped on a pair of pajama bottoms, then headed downstairs with a spring in his step.

Like the Gambler's Den, Paradise Manor was a fusion of traditional architecture and Art Nouveau elements with a touch of gothic drama—but unlike most of the bedrooms and formal spaces in the house, the kitchen, which was situated at the end of a corridor underneath the grand staircase, was a more practical space.

It prioritized function over aesthetics, sticking to a simple, contrasting color palette of light and dark (though the design flourishes Hua Cheng favored still appeared here and there).

The walls and ceiling were a warm cream that reflected light, while the floors and cabinets were an ebony-stained dark wood designed to temper the overall brightness and keep it from being too overwhelming.

The appliances were professional grade: a six-burner gas range with a double oven; a speed oven; a hefty, built-in refrigerator and dishwasher with custom wood paneling featuring flowers and trees etched on the doors; and, of course, all of the daily use equipment one would expect to find in a well-appointed kitchen.

The centerpiece of the room was a large island, about ten feet long, with a black marble countertop embedded with silver veins.

One side of the island was working height, with a built-in prep sink and storage, and the other side was bar height—perfect for sitting—with six accompanying stools featuring claret-colored leather upholstery and silver hardware.

And it was here that Xie Lian and Yin Yu sat, conversing with one another, the three pendant lights hanging from the ceiling emanating a soft, golden light that enveloped them in a muted halo.

Yin Yu wore a faded purple polo shirt and a slim-fitting pair of light grey chinos, which was about as casual as he ever got outside of his pajamas (and even then, he favored classic, rather stuffy designs with tight collars and too many buttons).

Xie Lian, on the other hand, must have gotten into Hua Cheng's armoire before venturing out, for he wore an oversized black t-shirt that nearly hung to his knees.

The tinsel had yet to be removed, and his hair was a lovely brown and gold tangle, framing his exceptionally beautiful face in a way that would make anyone's heart skip a beat.

Neither one of them noticed Hua Cheng's approaching footsteps, and he lingered just outside the doorway, listening to them talk.

"Oh, my gosh," Xie Lian cooed, leaning closer to the other man in order to peer intently at the screen of Yin Yu's phone. "You two look so young here. When was this taken?"

Oh, god, Hua Cheng thought, making a face. Is he showing him pictures?

"About six years ago," Yin Yu answered, elbowing his empty plate aside in order to give Xie Lian better access as he swiped his thumb across the screen. A balled-up apron sat on the stool beside him.

"And how old were you in this one?" Xie Lian asked, gazing at the new photo.

"This one?" Yin Yu pondered for a moment, looking overly serious with the corners of his eyes and lips turned down. "I was eighteen."

"Eighteen?" Xie Lian glanced up at Yin Yu and cast him a smile that would reduce anyone to a puddle. "You look so handsome."

"Oh, I . . ." Yin Yu blushed to the roots of his hair.

When it came to his work, Yin Yu had gotten better about accepting praise over the years, but when it came to his person, he often struggled to accept compliments.

Yin Yu cleared his throat.

" . . . Thank you."

"You're welcome." Xie Lian beamed before taking mercy on Yin Yu and redirecting back to the slideshow on his phone. "And how about this one? Where was it taken?"

"Here," Yin Yu replied, voice a little unsteady as he tried to regain his balance. "Just before they broke ground at Paradise Manor. Dage and I thought we'd take a picture for posterity's sake."

"Will you show me around later?"

"Of course."

"Listen to you two," Hua Cheng said as he strolled into the kitchen. "Making plans and leaving me all alone."

Their heads turned in unison, and Xie Lian's smile grew wider, his honey eyes sparkling.

"Hello, San Lang."

"Oh, so gege does remember his San Lang, after all," Hua Cheng pouted, pretending to be wounded as he circled his arms around Xie Lian's waist.

Instead of answering him, Xie Lian turned back to his new best friend and asked a question. "Was he always this big of a baby?"

Yin Yu opened his mouth.

"Answer that, Xiao-Yu, and I'll dock your pay," Hua Cheng threatened with an arched brow and a steel eye.

"He'll do no such thing," Xie Lian immediately countered, covering Hua Cheng's lips with one hand. "Never be afraid to speak your mind, my friend."

Yin Yu's eyes flicked from Xie Lian to Hua Cheng, then back again.

He smiled, and it was almost mischievous. "Dage has always been a big baby."

"Hah! As I thought," Xie Lian crowed, and they all laughed.

"What are you two up to?" Hua Cheng asked, removing Xie Lian's hand from his mouth and laying a kiss in the center of his palm.

"Yin Yu was kind enough to cook me some food earlier, and he was just showing me some old pictures," Xie Lian explained, gesturing to the unfinished stack of pancakes on his plate that oozed chocolate and crushed peanuts.

Catching a glimpse of his younger self on Yin Yu's phone, Hua Cheng scowled and covered Xie Lian's eyes. "Don't look at those, gege."

Like all teenagers, they sure thought they were cool back then, but seeing those pictures now just made Hua Cheng cringe.

"I will look at those," Xie Lian insisted, blindly tipping his face up. "I want to know everything about San Lang."

Grinning, Hua Cheng leaned down to kiss that perfectly impertinent little mouth, but before he could, a loud clatter sounded from the marble countertop, and he looked up to see Xie Lian's phone—which Yin Yu had obviously returned—ringing.

Once Hua Cheng dropped his hands, Xie Lian picked the thing up, took one look at the screen, and sighed. "I better take this—it's Qingxuan. He's probably not very happy with me right now."

"Want me to talk to him?" Hua Cheng offered, reaching around his boyfriend to pick up the chopsticks resting on his plate.

Xie Lian shot him a dubious look. "Qingxuan is even more unhappy with you, so that would probably only make things worse."

"Good point," he conceded around a bite of pancake.

Xie Lian hopped off the barstool. "Mind if I use your shower after Qingxuan’s done lighting me up? I have a feeling I'm going to need something to soothe the burn."

"Everything I have is yours, gege," Hua Cheng replied, helping himself to the rest of Xie Lian's coconut milk while he was at it. God, did food always taste this good? "Take your time."

"Thanks, San Lang." Smiling, Xie Lian hit the answer button, then shifted his eyes over to Yin Yu and placed a hand over the bottom edge of his phone. "And I still want that tour, Yin Yu," he whispered loudly.

"I'm at your service, gong—" He stopped and corrected himself. "I mean, Xie Lian."

After he was gone, the smaller man turned back to Hua Cheng and gave him a long look that radiated disapproval.

"He is wonderful," Yin Yu said pointedly. "You are an idiot."

Hua Cheng stared at the empty doorway through which Xie Lian had just disappeared.

"I'm starting to realize that, yeah."

#

After finishing off the rest of Xie Lian’s pancakes and eating a hearty serving of chicken congee with a cracked egg stirred in, Hua Cheng spent a little time with Yin Yu, discussing his plans for the weekend.

Once they wrapped up, he headed back upstairs, and the second Hua Cheng reentered his bedroom, he was immediately grabbed by a pair of hands, slammed against the nearest wall hard enough to rattle the frame, and was caught up in a searing kiss.

A smokey-sweet cloud of amber and vanilla—the familiar scent of his soap clinging to Xie Lian’s water-warmed skin—permeated the air as the other man pressed his lithe frame against him, a burning coal against Hua Cheng’s bare upper body.

The unexpected kiss, aggressive and open-mouthed, just about fried every synapse in his brain, and before he could react, Xie Lian sucked Hua Cheng’s bottom lip between his teeth with an obscene slurp, then released him, sliding down the front of his body in a rustle of silken, red—

Hua Cheng’s eye widened.

—fabric.

Xie Lian, freshly showered and smelling of Hua Cheng’s favorite scent, with damp, tousled, tinsel-free hair, was wearing the same red robe that he wore as part of his costume last night and—

Holy . . . fuck.

As with black, red was not a regular feature of Xie Lian’s wardrobe, and Hua Cheng was instantly swept up in the allure of all that fair skin swathed in a red more beautiful and more bright than maple leaves.

The hem of the robe fluttered as Xie Lian sank to his knees and yanked down Hua Cheng’s pants.

There was no conscious decision on Hua Cheng’s part, no gradual transition into arousal—one second his dick was soft, the next it wasn’t.

Nor was there any prelude to what Xie Lian did next, no gentle warm-up or sultry lead-in; he just opened that perfect mouth and swallowed Hua Cheng’s cock almost all the way to the root.

The pleasure hit like a punch to the gut; Hua Cheng’s thighs jolted, and his abdomen jerked as he folded at the waist with the impact.

One hand unconsciously strayed to Xie Lian’s hair as he drew back with a swirl of his tongue, liberally coating Hua Cheng’s cock with saliva and making wet noises that turned him on even more.

He was too overwhelmed last night to pick up on the finer details of what Xie Lian looked like while he was giving head, but now that he was a little more in control, Hua Cheng took a moment to appreciate . . . everything.

The way those long, graceful brows knit together as he applied himself to his task, the way those soft cheeks rounded and reddened with exertion, and the way those charming, upturned eyes tracked Hua Cheng’s changing facial expressions with every stroke and suck, reading him just as efficiently with his gaze as with the tip of his tongue—all of it made him throb. 

Xie Lian wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, angling it down slightly so he could stare up at him as his lips slid back up his shaft, sinking him so deeply into the slick depth of his throat that Hua Cheng shuddered.

“Fuck, gege,” he groaned, the aching tremor spiraling up his cock loosening his tongue. “With the way you’re sucking my cock right now, no one would ever guess you were mad at me.”

Xie Lian blinked, his brows shooting up as his eyes widened, then narrowed, and it was at that exact moment that Hua Cheng knew he fucked up.

“Mhm.” Xie Lian slowly released Hua Cheng’s cock from the snug confines of his throat and rocked back on his heels, staring up at him as he wiped the excess saliva from his chin with the back of his hand.

Then, he smiled.

Oh, shit.

“You know what, San Lang, you’re right.” His smile widened as he rose to his feet. “I was so happy to be with you that I let my body get ahead of my brain, so I can see why you’d be getting mixed messages. I’ll be rectifying that. Right now.” Turning, he pointed at the snow-white sheepskin rug on the floor between the chaise and the chesterfield. “Kneel. Over there, please.”

An incredulous scoff punched out of Hua Cheng’s chest.

Xie Lian arched a fine brow. “No one’s ever told the Ghost King to get on his knees before?”

“In my world, those of lower rank have no right to even speak to me, much less order me around, gege.”

“Then this should be a refreshing change of pace for you,” Xie Lian replied lightly, voice laced with a hint of steel. “Now, kneel.”

Hua Cheng considered saying no and seeing what would happen next, but if he was being honest with himself, he was more intrigued by the possibility of what might happen if he said yes.

“Okay,” he agreed with an easy grin. “As gege wishes.”

He grabbed the waistband of his pajama pants, which had snagged just above his knees, and prepared to hike them up when Xie Lian stopped him.

“You can leave those off. You won’t be needing them.”

Oh . . . shit, Hua Cheng thought, an anticipatory thrill running through him as he let the pants fall to the floor, then stepped out of the pool of fabric.

The chaise and the chesterfield, angled toward one another, were situated about three feet from the foot of the bed, and, before them, centered in an open space of about five feet, lay the fur rug, leaving plenty of room to maneuver on all sides.

It was to here that Hua Cheng leisurely sauntered—not an easy thing to do with your dick hanging out, but he made it work—and then dropped to his knees in an equally careless, insouciant fashion.

The large, asymmetrical white pelt was thick, soft, and luxurious, something one could easily kneel—or do other things on—for an extended period of time without any discomfort.

Once Hua Cheng had heeded his command, Xie Lian strode across the room.

The red robe was cinched tightly with the matching sash, highlighting his slim waist in a way that made Hua Cheng’s mouth water, the sleeves and hem billowing with Xie Lian’s every move.

Coming up behind the chesterfield, which was closest to where he was kneeling, Xie Lian placed his hands on the back and rotated it to face Hua Cheng more fully.

The second the chair was positioned to his liking, Xie Lian sank into the seat, then crossed his legs—right leg over the left—his hip jutting out in the most distracting fashion as he leaned to one side, placing an elbow on the curling armrest and resting his left temple on the tips of two fingers.

Expression inscrutable, Xie Lian gazed at Hua Cheng for a long time with those luminous brown eyes.

“I wonder what everyone in your Gambler’s Den would think if they saw you right now,” he finally said.

The words were spoken with Xie Lian’s usual softness and without a shred of meanness, but the implication hit as intended, delivering a sharp sting of humiliation with whip-crack efficiency.

It was an altogether new experience for him to be on the receiving end of such a barb—especially from Xie Lian—but Hua Cheng let it roll off his back, as brazen and impertinent as ever as he drawled, “Well, I’ve heard it said that the true measure of a man is not how tall he stands, but how low he kneels.”

Xie Lian laughed, the sound as sonorous and enchanting as the man himself.

“Such magnanimity,” he gently mocked. “Since My Lord the Ghost King is so very generous, surely he wouldn’t object to playing a game with me?”

“Of course not. But are you sure you want to play against me?” Hua Cheng taunted with a smug grin. “You lost last time. Remember, kitten?”

Xie Lian was out of the seat in a flash.

Burying one hand in his hair, he yanked Hua Cheng’s head back at a sharp angle that exposed the line of his throat. Pain streaked across his scalp, then shot down his spine in a rush of pure pleasure.

“Oh, I don’t intend to lose this time,” Xie Lian warned, voice threaded with a hot undercurrent of danger as he loomed over him. The lapels of the robe gaped, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his chest. “For this game, I’ll be the one setting the rules. Do you have a problem with that?”

Hua Cheng licked his lips. “As gege likes.”

“Good. We’re going to have a little Q&A. I ask, you answer. Tell the truth, and you win. Lie, and you lose. A failure to answer is also a loss.” Xie Lian leaned down until they were nose to nose, his breath painting Hua Cheng’s lips. “Are you with me so far, Ghost King?”

Fucking hell, Hua Cheng thought dizzily, cock swelling painfully between his legs as Xie Lian flung his own words from last night right back in his face.

“I am,” he replied, hoping he didn’t sound as unsteady as he felt. “What do I get if I win?”

“If you win, you get to come. Not only that—I’ll let you come anywhere you want. In my mouth, on my face, my ass—anywhere.”

Good god.

Several images, each one more lurid than anything Hua Cheng had ever drawn in his sketchbook, formed in his mind, making his blood run hot.

He swallowed. “And if I lose?”

“If you lose,” Xie Lian replied, all sugar-and-spice, one hand tightening in the roots of his hair as the other caressed Hua Cheng’s cheek, “your balls are going to be bluer than the summer sky for the next three days. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like my kind of game.” He smirked. “But I want something else in addition to what you’re offering.”

“What’s that?”

“If I win, you have to call me ‘gege’ for the rest of the week.”

“Alright,” Xie Lian agreed, taking the request in stride, “but I’m going to add an additional stipulation of my own then: if you come before I say so, I’ll be sleeping in one of the guest rooms tonight.” He paused. “What do you say, Ghost King?”

Hua Cheng raised his chin, tilting his face up until their mouths nearly brushed. “Lay everything into this one throw, with no regrets, not even death.” His lips curved. “I’m ready whenever gege is.”

“Then let's begin.” Abruptly releasing him, Xie Lian turned and resumed his seat on the chesterfield, right leg crossed over the left, right hip cocked. “And just remember: if, at any point, you want to tap out, all you have to do is say the word.”

Fat-fucking chance. No way was he about to lose this game.

“First round, Hua Chengzhu.” Xie Lian’s eyes gleamed, his gaze laser-focused on Hua Cheng’s face. “Why did you lie to me?”

This question, at least, was easy enough.

“To protect you,” he answered truthfully. “I told you, gege. I have dangerous enemies.”

Xie Lian nodded.

“That must mean you’re a dangerous man,” he mused. “After all, I don’t know many men who would sleep with one of these under their pillow.”

Xie Lian hiked up the side slit of the robe—which hung down near his knee on account of their height difference—to reveal E’ming, strapped to his outer thigh with the drop-leg rig from his costume last night.

The polished silver shone beautifully against the moon-pale skin of his slender thigh, and the sight went straight to Hua Cheng’s head like a shot of alcohol, burning all the way down.

“Gege,” he breathed, reaching out.

“No. Mm-mm.” Xie Lian moved, placing the ball of his foot against Hua Cheng’s chest as he pressed him back. “That’s not how this game works, My Lord Ghost King. You see, I can touch you,”—he ran the tip of his big toe down Hua Cheng’s sternum—“but you can’t touch me. So, those clever hands of yours better stay where they are, or it’s an automatic loss.”

Hua Cheng’s jaw tightened.

After being presented with that visual feast and being denied, half of him was ready to concede and chuck his dignity right out the window, but he held back, his brow lowering and his expression turning sour.

“Gege’s playing dirty.”

“Isn’t that what you told me to do?” Xie Lian fired back, unrepentant. “‘If you want to play against me, you’d better be willing to fight dirty.’ You should have asked for a complete rundown of the rules before you agreed to play. It’s not my fault you’ve been thinking with the wrong head.”

Touché

Xie Lian’s foot descended lower, skimming Hua Cheng’s abdomen.

“I’ve seen this gun before, you know,” he said cooly, drawing barely-there circles with his toes around Hua Cheng’s belly button, the intermittent contact triggering minute contractions that made his cock twitch. “The night you came over and confessed your feelings. You asked me to grab your bag out of the car while you were in the shower, and when I went to pick it up, I accidentally dropped the keys on the floor. I was searching for them underneath the seat and ended up finding your gun instead.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Xie Lian tapped the ball of his foot against Hua Cheng’s abdomen hard.

“My dearest Hua Chengzhu,” he chided with an air of princely condescension, “you seem to have forgotten that I’m the one asking the questions tonight.”

Xie Lian lowered his foot yet again, turning it slightly outward and sliding it past the crown of Hua Cheng’s cock, then down the shaft.

The skin was slightly tacky from the drying saliva, but still had enough slip to feel pleasant, and when Xie Lian’s delicate arch pressed down on the base of his cock, the heel digging into his balls just so, it ached.

It ached terribly, the arousal wrapping around his groin like a steel coil, and it took more self-control than Hua Cheng would have liked not to rut his hips like some pathetic animal.

The shadow of a smile lifted the corners of Xie Lian’s lips.

“Speaking of which,” he said conversationally, as if he’d never stopped talking in the first place. “Are you ready for the next round?”

“I’ve been ready, gege," he sassed, full of bravado.

“You said you lied to protect me from these dangerous enemies of yours. So, that must mean you’re a dangerous man, right?”

“Right.”

“Just how dangerous . . .” he began, pushing down hard enough to make Hua Cheng's breath stutter through his nose. “ . . . are you?”

Holding himself very still, Hua Cheng closed his eye.

“I’m the head of an organization,” he said slowly, as if he were sounding the words out. “Law enforcement would refer to it as—”

“A mafia?”

Hua Cheng’s eye popped open. “Gege already knew?”

“I may be a little naive sometimes,” he confided, gripping the arms of the chair, “but I’m not blind, Ghost King. The Waning Moon Officers are your men?”

Hua Cheng nodded. “I also preside over a network of smaller gangs with whom I have a mutually beneficial relationship that allows me to further my . . . business interests.”

Xie Lian reached out and idly circled the piercing in Hua Cheng’s nipple with the tip of his finger. “What kind of business interests?”

“How much time do you have, gege?”

His nipple was suddenly seized in a pincer-like grip that compressed the areola against the titanium barbells, generating a burst of sensation, sharp and sweet, that rippled across his chest.

“Do you traffic drugs?”

“No,” Hua Cheng swore vehemently. “And whenever I catch anyone dealing in my territory, I make sure that person has a very bad day.”

“Territory,” Xie Lian repeated. “That’s the third time you’ve used that word in front of me. What is your territory? Ghost City?”

“Gege can think of Ghost City like my backyard and the Gambler’s Den as my home base. But really, the entire east side of downtown is my domain.”

Still maintaining his grip, Xie Lian pulled the tip of Hua Cheng’s nipple, stretching the skin taut and making his cock jerk against the curve of his foot. “Are there others, then? Others like you who oversee different territories?”

His breath hitched. “Correct.”

“Are you close with them?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Hua Cheng’s voice dripped derision. “There aren’t many that I’m close with.”

“And these enemies of yours—who are they?”

“Again, gege: how much time have you got?” he quipped. “Most of them are useless trash, but there are a few”—one in particular—“that even I have to watch my step around.”

“Is that why you kept making excuses not to take me to your apartment?” Xie Lian inquired, raising his opposite hand and tracing the curve of Hua Cheng’s right pec with the tip of his nail. “Did you buy me that TV in order to prevent me from going into the city?”

“In retrospect, I realize how my buying the TV looks,” Hua Cheng said, trying to ignore the dueling sensations—sprawling tingles on one side and a growing, but very pleasant sting on the other. “But I swear, I only wanted to do something nice for you. As for the rest—yeah,” he admitted. “If we’re in someone else’s territory, I can’t control what might happen, and even my territory is not completely safe all the time. I just . . . didn’t want to put you at risk.”

The peak of Hua Cheng’s nipple began to rotate minutely, back and forth, with slow, maddening speed as Xie Lian’s other hand abandoned his pec and began to glide downward.

No matter how hard he tried, Hua Cheng could not suppress the shiver working its way down his spine as the pads of Xie Lian’s fingers continued their descent, teasing the muscles of his abdomen, their pace deliberate and unhurried.

The simmering ache in his groin began to build, his cock starting to feel swollen and heavy as his body hungered for something more.

And just when it looked like those agile fingers were going to answer his prayers, Xie Lian suddenly pulled his hands back.

“That’s enough for this round,” he announced.

“Aw,” Hua Cheng teased, ignoring the howling disappointment inside his head. “Are you getting tired already, gege? It’s okay if you need a break.”

Xie Lian smiled and slowly rose to his feet.

“Do you enjoy provoking me, Hua Chengzhu?”

He cupped a hand under Hua Cheng’s chin, tilting it up.

“I’m enjoying the look on your face,” Hua Cheng retorted, gaze heavy. “I’m curious to see what you’ll do next."

“Oh, but you know what they say about curiosity, don’t you?” Xie Lian drummed his fingers on E’ming’s barrel.

Hua Cheng cocked a brow. “You going to shoot me, gege?”

“Would you let me?” Straddling Hua Cheng’s bent knees, Xie Lian sank into his lap, his weight settling exquisitely on top of him. “I think you would.” Wrapping both arms around his neck, he leaned forward to whisper in Hua Cheng’s ear, “I think that I could do anything to you right now, and you would just kneel there and let me.”

Heat flashed through him, a fierce need taking root as Xie Lian pushed up on his knees, balancing himself on Hua Cheng's thighs.

“So this time, mmm . . .” Xie Lian’s movements were sinuous, his rhythm easy as he rocked his hips, and the warmth and weight of his body, of his hard cock against Hua Cheng’s felt so fucking perfect that it took everything, everything, not to grab those hips and grind his way to a shuddering orgasm. “ . . . I’m not going to hold back.”

Then, Xie Lian slipped a hand between their bodies, taking Hua Cheng’s cock in a firm, warm grip that forced him to clutch at the rug’s silky fur and swallow the moan threatening to spill from his lips.

“Third round, Hua Chengzhu.”

Xie Lian began to stroke his cock, his motions idle, almost lazy, but Hua Cheng’s body thrilled to it because this touch was exactly what he’d been craving all along.

“The night of our first date at the restaurant, you got a phone call. You said it was a wrong number, but that was a lie. Who were you talking to?”

“I . . .”

“My Lord Ghost King.” Circling the leaking tip of his cock with a thumb, Xie Lian gently nosed the space underneath Hua Cheng’s jaw, his lips brushing against his neck. “Let me remind you that minimizing the truth is the same thing as lying. I know you were talking to someone. I heard you.” Hua Cheng could not conceal his shock as Xie Lian continued, “You see, I got turned around in those twisting hallways on my way back from the restroom and ended up by the back door. I was getting ready to leave when I heard a voice. Imagine my surprise when I realized that voice was yours.” A hot tongue licked a fiery stripe over his pulse, raising goosebumps. “You were angry. The person you were talking to had overstepped and pulled some kind of stunt in someone else’s territory. You threatened to crush their skull if it ever happened again. Who was it?”

The person of whom Xie Lian spoke was Ban Yue, and the incident to which he referred was an altercation that occurred between her, Pei Xiu, Guzi, and a few other pieces of trash from the Green Lanterns.

According to Black Water, Guzi and his friends showed up in Ming Plaza and started showing their collective asses, and Ban Yue and Pei Xiu, who just so happened to be passing by—yeah, fucking right—took it upon themselves to intercede on He Xuan’s behalf and evict them from the premises.

Long story short: guns were pulled, the police were called (there were no arrests since the little miscreants had all fled by the time the cops showed), and Hua Cheng had to listen to Black Water bitch about the whole thing every day for the next week.

Hua Cheng had never even suspected Xie Lian might have overheard that call, and while he didn’t want to lie, the answer to this question was a bit . . . complicated.

“I was talking to someone who works for me,” he started, then stopped. How the fuck was he supposed to explain this? “She—”

“A name, Ghost King,” Xie Lian insisted, the pad of his finger smoothing back and forth over Hua Cheng’s frenulum. The sensation was so sublime that  it made his eyelid flutter. “I want you to tell me their name.”

Hua Cheng clenched his teeth. “Ban Yue.”

Xie Lian puffed out a loud breath, but didn’t stop what he was doing as he leaned back slightly to look Hua Cheng directly in the eye.

“So, you’ve been having Ban Yue and Pei Xiu spy on me.”

“Not spy,” Hua Cheng corrected. Damn it, having those stinking brats work there wasn’t even his idea. “They were only there to watch over you, to keep you safe. Don’t be angry with them, gege. They were only doing what I told them to do.”

“Oh, I’m not angry. I’m impressed.” Xie Lian’s hand slid down to the base of his cock, gripping it tighter, and Hua Cheng bit back a groan. “And I assume my new employees are the reason you knew I’d been hanging out with Feng Xin lately?”

He winced. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly? Then how did you know?”

“I—” Hua Cheng’s brow furrowed as Xie Lian’s hand resumed moving up and down, the steadily weeping slit easing his strokes. “I saw you together.”

“You saw us?” Xie Lian sounded genuinely surprised. “When?”

“The day before yesterday.”

“Where?”

“ . . . Outside the antique shop.”

Realization sparked in Xie Lian’s eyes.

“The black car,” he breathed. “It was you. I knew there was something strange going on. I could feel it. Why were you there?” When Hua Cheng didn’t respond right away, Xie Lian gave him a punishing stroke, twisting his wrist and corkscrewing his palm around the crown of his cock and making every nerve sing. “Why?”

“Yin Yu brought me,” he gasped, sparks going off behind his eye as pre-come pooled in Xie Lian's hand. “It wasn’t my decision.”

“Well, the great Hua Chengzhu doesn’t strike me as the type of man to do anything he doesn’t want to do, so how did your subordinate manage that?”

“After I broke things off, I . . .” Xie Lian’s hand swept up and down, up and down, then stopped to massage the head of his cock with undulating fingers, making it difficult to concentrate. “I was a mess, gege. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Buried myself in work and wouldn’t talk to anybody. Yin Yu knew something was wrong, and he kept trying to get me to open up, but I blew him off. The other day, I fell asleep in the back of his car from exhaustion—something I never do because it’s not safe—and the next thing I knew, I was in Puqi Village.”

Xie Lian’s brows rose, but his expression gave nothing away. “That must have been a rude awakening.”

“You have no idea.”

“But Yin Yu must have had a good reason for bringing you all the way out there,” he posited.

“He said I was scaring him. Since I refused to speak to him about what was going on, he wanted me to talk to you.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Xie Lian asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and anger. “You were literally on my doorstep.”

“Because I didn’t think it was fair,” Hua Cheng replied honestly, staring into his eyes, “and I was scared, and I . . . saw you and Feng Xin together. You had your arm around his waist, and I know you two have history, and—”

“Were you jealous?”

Hua Cheng dropped his head. “Yes.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “That is not the first time I’ve heard that today.”

“Yin Yu is very wise,” Xie Lian said, knowing exactly whom Hua Cheng was referring to without being told. “You should have listened to him.” He tightened his grip on his cock even more, increasing the pressure but slowing the tempo as he cruelly drew out each sensation until Hua Cheng’s cock throbbed so relentlessly, he could feel it throughout his entire body. “If you had, you wouldn’t be where you are right now—balls swollen, cock aching, and making a mess all over this nice rug.”

The pressure of Xie Lian’s palm suddenly turned light, his strokes speeding up, and this time Hua Cheng could not hold back his moans as his control finally started to slip.

“Are you sorry?” Xie Lian asked.

The muscles of Hua Cheng’s thighs tightened, his abs growing taut, and his hips starting to inch forward mindlessly as tiny ripples and surges of pleasure radiated from the base of his cock.

Sweat broke out on the back of his neck as he half mumbled, half groaned, “I-I won’t.”

“What was that, My Lord Ghost King?” Xie Lian goaded. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“I won’t . . . apologize for wanting to keep you safe,” Hua Cheng said breathlessly. “I did what I thought was right, but I—” That slick pressure grew tight again, and the momentum steadily diminished, simultaneously stalling and elevating his pleasure to an almost unbearable height. “I-I’m—ah, god, fuck—I’m sorry I hurt you. That wasn’t—it wasn’t what I wanted.”

Xie Lian studied the interplay of emotions on his face from beneath lowered lids, watching as Hua Cheng’s expression turned pained when the pace of his strokes picked up once again.

But this time, that firm pressure remained, amplifying the pulsing ache in Hua Cheng’s cock to the point where he could barely keep it together.

“Do you think that maybe, in the future,” Xie Lian ventured, pumping his cock faster and faster, “instead of running away, you could use your words to communicate and let me make my own decisions?”

“If one of those decisions involves letting me come, then yes, please, god, gege—you’re killing me,” Hua Cheng panted, his moans growing rougher, louder, and more desperate as his hips spasmed, body and mind warring with one another. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian cooed, viciously sweet as he laid a soft kiss on Hua Cheng’s lips, then pressed the pistol’s cold barrel underneath his jaw. “Even if I did kill you, you’d be getting off easy.”

Hua Cheng’s entire body immediately seized as the orgasm slammed into him. His arms trapped Xie Lian in a reflexive embrace, his only anchor as his hips bucked out of control, and he burst in his lover’s hand, striping his stomach as well as Xie Lian's fingers with thick trails of cum in short, hard pulses.

Once his shudders had ceased, Hua Cheng, chest heaving, slumped against Xie Lian, who tenderly kissed his cheek and said, “I’m afraid you’ve lost, Hua Chengzhu.” Pushing Hua Cheng back, he laid E'ming next to him on the carpet, then rose to his feet. “Better luck next time.”

And with that, Xie Lian turned on his heel and walked away, upright and graceful as always, with Hua Cheng’s crimson robe swirling around him.

“Gege,” he called out the second Xie Lian opened the door.

Xie Lian stopped, turning halfway to gaze calmly at Hua Cheng from over his shoulder.

“Next time, I’m going to make you scream,” Hua Cheng vowed.

“Maybe,” Xie Lian replied with a ghost of a smile, making his soft, serene beauty all the more alluring. “But not tonight. See you in the morning . . . San Lang.”

He closed the door.

#

Xie Lian's favorite thing about Paradise Manor?

The bathrooms.

This was not to say that the rest of Hua Cheng's home wasn't stunning—because it was—but in comparison to his tiny little bathroom back home with its tiny little corner stall, every single bathroom in Paradise Manor was . . . a sensory experience.

There were seven guest suites on the third floor—all outfitted with the lavish accoutrements befitting a name like Paradise Manor—and in the first bathroom he came across, Xie Lian found a digital shower system with a touchscreen panel that had eleven pre-programmed "hydrotherapy" sequences, color-changing LEDs, and a steam generator.

In the next suite, he discovered a shower system with an oversized shower-head mounted to the ceiling that released thousands of droplets of water so fine it felt like powder. And in another, he found a free-standing tub with air jets and a built-in "essential oil diffusion system."

Of course, even though all of these bathrooms were amazing, none matched the extravagant luxury of the one in Hua Cheng's master suite.

When Xie Lian had stepped in there last night for a washcloth, he'd been absolutely blown away.

Massive, seamless slabs of deep, crimson marble stretched across the floor and lined the walls, and above, the ceiling was painted a matte black that somehow made the space feel both soaring and intimate all at once.

A floating vanity on  the left instantly caught his attention; it was eight feet, made of dark wood, and had a black marble countertop with a matching vessel sink sitting atop it.

An enormous mirror with an ornate silver frame crafted to resemble the branches of a maple tree was anchored to the wall just behind the vanity.

The branches arced gracefully over the top and sides, the three-dimensional red leaves appearing to fall or float over the mirror's surface, which gleamed from the LED backlighting.

And then, there was the shower.

It was huge—at least six feet by eight feet, and inside the frameless glass enclosure was a shower system with eighteen different heads.

There were large chrome rainfall heads stationed at the top, then an array of jets had been strategically positioned at different heights along the three walls to target different areas of the body.

Just outside the glass, glowed a black touchscreen panel that controlled the temperature and pressure of each jet and shower-head.

The panel also offered a bunch of pre-programmed "spa-sequences," chromatherapy settings, and a music integration service—among other things.

And as if the shower with its heated floor and heated bench wasn't fancy enough, there was also a glossy black tub made of volcanic limestone in the center of the room.

The toilet was tucked discreetly in a separate water closet inside the bathroom itself. There were heated towel racks mounted to the walls, a side table next to the tub, and everything was illuminated by recessed LEDs in the ceiling that were capable of creating whatever mood you wanted.

Like the bedroom, the space was sensual and dramatic, and unapologetically Hua Cheng.

Earlier, after getting off the phone with Shi Qingxuan, who was understandably pissed at him for disappearing last night, but unexpectedly merciful when he heard his bestie was back with his ex-boyfriend—though Qingxuan did maintain that he "owed” Hua Cheng “a foot”—Xie Lian had taken the best shower of his life.

And even though he hadn't gotten especially dirty after playing—and winning—his little game with Hua Cheng, Xie Lian figured that one could never be too clean and treated himself to a second shower in one of the guest rooms.

There was only one problem.

After defeating the Ghost King and smugly sweeping out of his room, Xie Lian realized that he didn't have any other clothes aside from the red robe he was already wearing.

With no underwear.

Which was . . . not ideal, but since the robe's fabric was thick and opaque, it would probably be fine.

So, after toweling himself off, Xie Lian cinched the robe tightly closed about his waist and headed down to the kitchen for a drink.

To his surprise, he found Yin Yu there, dressed meticulously in a full suit complete with his gloomy little lapel pin, filling a traveling cup with hot coffee.

"Hello," Xie Lian greeted him, padding into the room. "Are you going somewhere?"

Glancing up, Yin Yu flashed him half a smile that still managed to look sad. "Just for a few hours. There are some things that need to be taken care of at the Gambler's Den, and I told dage I would handle it, so the two of you could spend some time together. Plus, dage . . . " He pursed his lips and set the coffee pot back on the warmer. "He's had a lot on his plate recently and hasn't been getting much sleep. He needs rest."

Yin Yu's words tweaked Xie Lian's curiosity, and he immediately wondered what "a lot on his plate" really meant.

He had a feeling that if he pushed, Yin Yu would give him some information, but he didn't want to put the man, who was very clearly a dear friend of Hua Cheng's, in an awkward position or make him uncomfortable.

So, in the end, all Xie Lian said was, "Thank you."

Yin Yu stopped fiddling with the lid of his coffee cup, his gaze snapping up in surprise, but before he could even open his mouth, Xie Lian had folded him in a careful hug.

"You're a good man and a good friend." Xie Lian gave him a light squeeze. "Thank you for taking such good care of him."

And when he pulled back, Yin Yu's face was a bright shade of red, and it took him a few moments to gather himself enough to stammer out, "P-Please, this is nothing. I-I'm only doing what I should do."

In response, Xie Lian merely smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

He had a feeling that Yin Yu was the sort of person who was quick to praise others, but didn't know what to do with the praise directed at himself.

I'll be sure to compliment him more often then.

But for now, Xie Lian took a step back and watched as a flustered Yin Yu fumbled with the lid of his coffee cup and cleared his throat.

"Where is dage, by the way?" he asked.

Xie Lian's smile grew broader.

"Oh," he replied in a light voice, "I'm sure he's around here somewhere."

Pouting.

#

After Yin Yu departed for the Gambler's Den, Xie Lian decided to do a little exploring on the ground floor.

The grand foyer was, well, grand, with a high, coffered ceiling, a huge chandelier with flowering silver arms and crystal elements, and a polished, red marble floor that gleamed like still water.

Dark wainscoting with intricate fretwork at the base was overlaid with carvings of vines, flowers, and butterflies inlaid with silver and gold leaf, and above the decorative panels, silk wallpaper, colored a deep burgundy, covered the walls.

The grand staircase rose against the back wall, and red marble treads that matched the main floor below were set into ebony wood that looked as shiny and smooth as the first day it was installed.

And it was from underneath the grand staircase that one could access the corridor that led to the kitchen, and it was from this corridor that Xie Lian emerged.

For a few seconds, he stood on the marble floor, taking in the space.

To the left and right, there were two sets of double doors with ornate carved panels.

He went left.

Upon opening the first set of doors, Xie Lian discovered an enormous formal dining room with a dark wooden table that could easily seat about twenty people.

The floor was black marble, and the walls were the same red as in the foyer, but with a slightly darker tint—oxblood, maybe—and the leaded glass windows were tall with a gothic, pointed arch.

After spending some time wandering around, Xie Lian closed the doors behind him and made his way across the hall to the next room.

This one turned out to be . . . a drawing room.

The drawing room was as elegant as the rest of the house, but like the kitchen, the harder, more dramatic edges were softened to make the space a bit more welcoming.

The floor was a dark hardwood with a mahogany finish, highly polished, and underneath the main seating area, with a sofa, three wingback chairs, and a big tufted ottoman that served as a coffee table, was a large red rug with black accents.

The gothic windows were here, too—tall with wooden frames and heavy red drapes—and admitted plenty of natural light.

And like the foyer, the ceiling was coffered, but instead of burgundy, the panels in between the dark beams were painted cream and gold.

A medium-sized chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a black stone fireplace dominated the front wall with a wooden mantel, above which hung an antique silk tapestry that—

"Pfft."

Xie Lian smiled.

The tapestry was embroidered with vibrant pomegranate blossoms with green, curling leaves, and colorful birds with teal plumage.

Xie Lian had discovered this particular tapestry while going through one of the many boxes sitting in the antique shop's storage room, and the second he pulled it out, Hua Cheng had laid claim to it.

He insisted on paying for it, but Xie Lian steadfastly refused after he bought the TV, so, of course, Hua Cheng snuck several thousand yuan into the cash register when he wasn't looking.

Shaking his head, Xie Lian stared up at the tapestry and sighed.

He always wondered what Hua Cheng had planned to do with it; where it would go, and if he would ever get a chance to see the place where he finally decided to hang it.

San Lang.

Xie Lian lingered for a bit longer, picturing what the fireplace might look like when it was stoked up to a nice blaze, imagining himself and Hua Cheng stretched out in front of it on a cold night with a couple of blankets, enjoying the heat, and then he left the drawing room behind.

He was about to head back upstairs when he noticed something strange about the paneling on a nearby wall, right near the corner where the wall met the staircase.

Curious, he drew closer.

At first glance, it looked like the wallpaper and the wainscoting continued smoothly along the wall, but—

His eyes narrowed.

Is that a gap?

Sure enough, one of the panels was slightly ajar, and when he pressed on it, the thing swung open like a door to reveal a narrow hallway.

Intrigued, Xie Lian glanced over his shoulder, then slipped inside.

The hall was maybe twenty feet long with a low ceiling and recessed lighting that appeared to be motion-activated, popping on to softly illuminate the marble floor as Xie Lian passed.

At the end of the corridor was a single door made of plain, dark wood.

There was no handle, just a sleek lock with what looked like a . . . fingerprint sensor.

Shoulders slumping in disappointment, Xie Lian was about to turn around and go back the way he came when he realized that this door was a tiny bit ajar, too!

Elated, Xie Lian pushed it open and stepped into the room with wide eyes.

It's . . .

It was an office.

But the word "office" seemed far too dull and commonplace to describe the room where Hua Cheng—because this room was most definitely his—conducted business out of.

The atmosphere was powerful and sophisticated, dripping with the gothic drama and Art Nouveau refinement that the master of the house seemed to favor.

The desk, positioned to face the door, was the centerpiece.

At least nine feet wide and four feet deep, the desk, sitting atop a red rug, was crafted from mahogany and finished in a glossy black lacquer.

The desktop was black marble split with delicate silver veins—and featured all the things a modern businessman needed, like a docking station with a pen holder and a document tray—while the front and sides were detailed with carved maple trees and capering butterflies with silver leaf accents and mother-of-pearl inlay.

The executive chair was high-backed with black leather and looked more like a throne than an office chair, but appeared very comfortable nevertheless.

All around, the walls were painted a lovely Bordeaux—a rich, wine-colored, reddish-purple—and the ceiling, also coffered, was a soft, deep black, and when Xie Lian activated the wall-mounted control panel near the door, the chandelier came to life, warm, white light illuminating the beams.

As he moved deeper inside, something on Xie Lian’s left caught his attention, something that immediately made his breath catch.

There, on a black credenza with a red marble top, sat a sword on a museum-quality display stand.

It's a scimitar! he gushed, rushing over.

Long and slender, the sword had a smooth, curved blade, and looked to be made of silver—though it was most likely polished steel with a silver sheen since real silver was way too soft to function as a reliable weapon.

The guard featured elaborate filigree work and claw-like extensions that flared up and down, creating an aggressive silhouette.

And at the top of the hilt, where the guard met the grip, was a crimson eye with a slitted pupil that matched the eye on Hua Cheng's gun—only this one was prettier and more gem-like.

The grip itself was wrapped in black silk cord—most likely with black shagreen, also known as treated ray skin, underneath—and Xie Lian very much wanted to touch it, but he didn't want to risk besmirching that beautiful blade with the oils from his skin.

So, in an effort to keep his hands busy, he plucked a white flower from a gold vase at the far end of the credenza.

The flower was pretty, with a small white bloom, and it looked to be the exact same kind as the one Hua Cheng had gifted him outside the theater after his return to the stage.

Humming softly to himself, Xie Lian traversed the room.

There were no windows, which he thought was a little strange—but, then again, given Hua Cheng’s . . . lifestyle, maybe it was a security thing.

A line of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves spanned the entire length of the right wall.

Each one had a glass front, and in addition to books, there were also expensive curios—like a small fan whose spine and leaf were made of pure gold and several funny little budaoweng dolls with scowling expressions.

There was also, much to Xie Lian's great amusement, a calligraphy set with an ink stone and brushes.

Snorting, Xie Lian turned away to check out the rest of the space, his bare feet whispering over the lustrous hardwood.

Behind the desk was a marble accent wall, upon which hung a massive painting in a decorative silver frame.

The painting was of an ethereal, purple-pink landscape glimpsed from between the branches of flowering trees.

At the edge of a winding river wreathed in fine white mist, strolled two figures dressed in red.

Their faces were sheltered by an umbrella whose red canopy was decorated with a golden branch dotted with tiny flowers.

It was a soft, romantic piece, and he immediately felt drawn to it.

Twirling the flower under his nose—it had such a nice, refreshing fragrance—Xie Lian edged the executive chair out of the way and stood behind the desk, to admire the painting.

Did San Lang do this? he wondered, his eyes taking in all the vivid colors.

Hua Cheng never mentioned that painting was one of his skills, but given how talented the man was with a pen and pencil, Xie Lian had no doubt that he'd be a master with a brush as well.

Making a mental note to ask once their temporary separation was up, Xie Lian gave the painting one last lingering look and was about to resume his exploration of Paradise Manor when his waist was suddenly caught from behind.

Startled, he cried out, the flower tumbling from his grasp as a hand buried itself in the damp strands of his hair and yanked his head back by the roots.

Instinctively, Xie Lian tried to free himself, his hand darting up to pry the closed fist tangled in his hair apart. But the arm around his waist tightened, pulling him sharply back against a solid wall of muscle.

"I warned you," a low voice growled in Xie Lian's ear.

"S-San Lang?" Xie Lian gasped, a sharp jolt running through him.

"I warned you not to randomly put your hands on things in other people's territory, gege," Hua Cheng continued, his lips brushing the shell of Xie Lian's ear. "It's one thing if you do it in my house, but all of the other bosses in Xianle City aren't nearly as understanding as I am."

Using the grip on his hair as leverage, Hua Cheng abruptly spun Xie Lian around by the waist, and before he even realized what was happening, he was shoved forward, his hipbones smacking into the edge of the desk hard enough to bruise as he was bent over it.

A hand between his shoulder blades pushed him down—face first—and Xie Lian caught himself on his arms, his hands splayed against the black marble top to try and maintain his balance as he was pinned in place.

"So, now what should we do, hm? How can I make sure that you don't make this mistake in someone else's territory and get yourself into trouble, gege?" Hua Cheng asked, leaning over him.

His body was heavy, his chest was bare, and the heat he was throwing off scorched Xie Lian right down to his own skin through the thick fabric of the robe.

He could feel everything: every move, every breath that Hua Cheng took, the rapid expansion and contraction of his ribs and abdomen, and, most of all, he could feel—

His cock.

Thick and hard, it pressed insistently into the small of his back, grinding slightly with each shift of Hua Cheng's body, and the shock of it made Xie Lian's stomach flutter, his mind whirling.

Did Hua Cheng only get hard just now?

Or was he hard even before he came in here?

Either way, the knowledge sent a dark thrill through Xie Lian, red-hot desire flooding his body so quickly that he completely forgot the question as his own cock swelled and strained against the cold, unforgiving marble top.

"I . . ." Slightly overwhelmed, Xie Lian stopped and licked his lips.

"Should I spank you?" Hua Cheng purred, pulling back and snatching two handfuls of the robe and jerking it up.

The silken fabric pooled around Xie Lian's waist, and the sudden exposure—cool air hitting overheated skin—left him feeling vulnerable, ass bare for all the world to see.

And when Hua Cheng put a knee between his thighs, spreading them even wider, Xie Lian burned with shame and let out a whimper.

"Would that teach you, gege?" Xie Lian could hear the amusement in Hua Cheng's voice, and a hot flush spread down his spine, raising goosebumps all over his body as a pair of possessive hands slid up the backs of his thighs.

The caress was slow and deliberate, Hua Cheng's callused palms catching minutely on his soft, sensitive skin as they traveled up and over the curve of his ass.

Then, he gripped both of his cheeks and gave them a vicious squeeze, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave more than a few marks.

"No?" Hua Cheng chuckled softly when this failed to elicit anything more than a moan. "How about a tongue lashing then?"

Every bit of conscious thought fled from Xie Lian's mind as Hua Cheng spread his cheeks apart and circled his hot tongue around his hole.

Usually, Hua Cheng went easy; his slick, leisurely strokes meant to tease as much as they were meant to coax Xie Lian, who had always been a little inhibited, into the experience.

But true to his word, there was no coaxing this time, no easing him in—Hua Cheng just went for it.

At times, his tongue was broad and flat, grinding over the furled muscle in long, slow drags.

At others, it was pointed and precise, exploring the smooth folds with a thrilling agility and relentless persistence that reduced Xie Lian to a quivering mess and made tears gather at the corners of his eyes.

Filthy sounds echoed through the office, wet slurps mixed with weepy moans, louder and louder, until Hua Cheng suddenly let out a muffled groan and drew back.

"God, fuck," he breathed, the air from his lungs a delicious counterpoint to the wet warmth his tongue left behind, making Xie Lian jerk and whine. "I missed this."

Truth was—Xie Lian missed it, too.

He missed Hua Cheng's body, his mouth, his tongue; the way he touched him, the way he looked at him, always hungry, like he wanted to devour him.

Which Hua Cheng was well on his way to doing as he fixed his mouth right over Xie Lian's hole and began sucking like it was a piece of hard candy he was eager to get to the middle of.

Xie Lian let out a sobbing cry, his cock twitching and dribbling continuously as his hands scrabbled against the desk, knocking over the docking station and sending a dozen pens clattering to the floor.

But he didn't care.

The only thing he cared about right now was Hua Cheng's mouth and his tongue and getting more of both.

And in the interest of getting more—more pressure, more contact—Xie Lian very shamelessly tried to push back against Hua Cheng's face. But the other man's grip held him fast, rendering him frustratingly immobile and only able to receive exactly what Hua Cheng wanted to give him and not a bit more.

Even so, the orgasm built quickly—too quickly, gathering at the base of his cock and sitting there like a bomb with a burning fuse.

Since their reunion, the two of them had been physical twice, with no release for Xie Lian—not that he felt that he'd been deprived.

Far from it—seeing Hua Cheng finally relax and enjoy himself last night, seeing him accept and give himself over to his own pleasure in a way he hadn't before was thoroughly gratifying.

And earlier . . . Xie Lian could not deny that wresting some of that iron-clad control away from Hua Cheng and having him beg for an orgasm for a change was a huge turn on.

Add that to three months of absence, three months of missing Hua Cheng, longing not only for the man but for their intimacy together—all those hours spent tangled around each other in bed—and Xie Lian didn't really stand a chance.

"Oh, god, San Lang!" he cried, going up on his toes. "I—"

But it was too late for warnings—it was already happening; his body tensed, his balls drew up, and the orgasm stole over him like a thief, robbing him of his voice, his sight, and his ability to feel anything other than the devastating blast of pleasure ravaging his body.

Xie Lian's hole spasmed against Hua Cheng's tongue, and his cock pulsed again and again, cum spurting all over the inside of the robe as his hips ground against the edge of the desk.

In the end, his legs gave out, and he collapsed fully onto the desk, jaw slack and body shaking while Hua Cheng continued to work him through the aftershocks, just as relentless at the finish as he was at the start.

"Gege," he finally cooed, licking one long, last stripe from rim to tail bone that made Xie Lian shiver. "You were talking so much shit earlier. Now, look at you. You're a mess, and I didn't even lay a single finger on your cock. Did you like it that much?"

"I think you're the one who likes it," Xie Lian retorted, cheeks flaming red with embarrassment as he pushed himself up on his elbows and turned to glare over his shoulder at Hua Cheng. "And if you think . . ." he panted. " . . . if you think this is enough to—to—get me to do what you want, you're sorely mistaken."

"Am I?" Hua Cheng arched a brow, a devilish smile curling his lips. "My, my, Taizi Dianxia, you are being exceptionally hard-headed today." He clicked his tongue. "I suppose I have no other choice then."

Grabbing him by the shoulders, he swiftly flipped Xie Lian onto his back, then gripped him behind his knees and folded his legs up and to the side in a sort of elevated butterfly pose.

While this position wasn't any more revealing than the position he was in earlier, for some reason, Xie Lian felt even more exposed like this; strands of damp hair clinging to his temples, robe in disarray, pink skin dappled with sweat, and belly covered in his own mess.

Watching Hua Cheng watching him, knowing his scrutiny was inescapable.

And yet.

And yet, on some level, he didn't want to escape it.

Xie Lian wanted Hua Cheng's dark eye on him, whether he was undone or put together or somewhere in between.

Always.

As if he knew exactly what he was thinking, Hua Cheng raked him over once with his gaze, admiring him with the same slow appreciation with which Xie Lian had admired the painting.

Then he turned slightly, leaning to the left, and Xie Lian heard the slide of a drawer accompanied by the sound of rummaging.

And when Hua Cheng straightened up again, Xie Lian noticed a familiar bottle with a very familiar black cap.

Lube?? he thought somewhat incredulously, mouth opening before he could stop himself. "San Lang, what—"

"Who said you could talk, gege?" Hua Cheng pressed a thumb over his lips, silencing him. "Did you think that just because you won our little game earlier, that you're somehow in control?"

He bent low, looking every inch the domineering Ghost King with his black eyepatch, his cruel half-smile, and his raven hair spilling over his shoulders to frame his dangerously handsome face.

"Let me remind Your Royal Highness that you gambled yourself off to me in a bet, and now, I can do whatever I want with you, whenever I want. And given the way that everyone was staring at gege last night in the Gambler's Den—I might never let you go outside again." Still holding the bottle, Hua Cheng deftly untied the sash holding the robe closed, uncovering the sticky mess all over his belly, and Xie Lian's heart quickened, but it wasn't with fear. "Does that shock you? I did tell gege once before that my temper is bad. I don't like people coveting my things." Flipping open the lube, he upended the bottle, drizzling it all over Xie Lian's chest and abdomen before tossing it carelessly aside. "And you? You're my heart's dearest treasure. No one but me will ever be allowed to touch you."

As if to signify this, Hua Cheng smoothed his hands through the mixture of cum and lube, gliding them over his abs with a light, sensual touch towards his chest.

And Xie Lian, who remained in a liminal state of arousal even after the force of that first orgasm, felt his cock, which hadn't fully softened, stir with interest once again as Hua Cheng drawled, "Because you're mine, and by now, everyone in Ghost City knows it, too. They know . . ." He bent at the waist, pinning Xie Lian with the weight of his lower body, and pressed their foreheads together while grinding his still very hard cock against him. "That this exquisite face, and this insolent mouth . . ."

He caught Xie Lian's lips in a bruising kiss, his teeth scraping his bottom lip.

". . . and this perfect body . . ."

Two sets of slippery fingers homed in on his nipples, pinching and rolling them in a way that made Xie Lian writhe.

" . . . and this dainty cock . . ."

One hand trailed down, slipping between their bodies to close around his shaft and give him one, slick pump while the other continued to play with his nipple, causing Xie Lian to let out a soft moan.

" . . . and this pretty little hole . . ."

Hua Cheng's hands abandoned their twin attacks and drifted back down to the cleft of his ass.

"They know . . . it all . . . belongs . . . to me," he hummed, pulling himself up again. "And that means, gege is mine to praise . . . or punish."

Hua Cheng smiled, and his eyes took on a fiendish gleam.

"So, if eating your ass didn't teach you not to touch what you shouldn't," he said, spreading his cheeks with one hand as a lubed finger circled around and around his fluttering rim, "then maybe this will make you rethink things a little bit."

And then, that finger did something that nothing ever had before.

It pressed inside him, breaching the ring of muscle and sinking deep with an unexpected ease, and Xie Lian cried out, caught between a pleasure and a panic he could not immediately resolve.

"Ah, San Lang! That's—"

"What, gege? Tell me."

"It feels . . ."

"How does it feel?" Hua Cheng's free hand came up to cup Xie Lian's chin, forcing him to meet his eye.

"Diff—different."

"That's not an answer, gege. Different how? Does it feel good? Does it hurt? I know you've never done this before, so you're going to have to use your words. Because if you don't . . ." His finger stilled and then made to withdraw. "I'm going to stop."

"No!" Xie Lian blurted, clenching down hard. He absolutely did not want to stop.

"Then tell me," Hua Cheng commanded, and that finger began moving once more, its pace leisurely and unhurried as it coaxed Xie Lian back into relaxing.

"It—it's good," he answered, staring up at his boyfriend with needy eyes.

He really wasn't lying.

The thing that was tripping Xie Lian up, the thing that he was still trying to wrap his mind around, was the fact that he was being penetrated at all.

Even with how much progress he'd made in the bedroom since meeting Hua Cheng, there was still a small part of him that never thought he would get this far.

And he wanted to keep going.

He just didn't know how to put all of that into words in the wake of these new physical sensations.

But he needn't have worried.

Hua Cheng watched him carefully—taking in every expression, every move, every hitch of breath with a certainty backed up by the breadth of knowledge he had already gained studying Xie Lian's body across all those days and nights they spent together in Puqi Village—and grinned.

"Gege, my dear gege," he said with an affectionate sigh. "If you think looking at me like that with those big doe eyes is going to get you out of this, you are sorely mistaken."

And then, Xie Lian felt the pressure of a second finger sliding in alongside the first, and his entire body jerked, his back arching up off the desk.

Two was a very different experience than one—the stretch, that feeling of fullness with a stinging edge was more intense, and when Hua Cheng began to pump his fingers in and out, Xie Lian's cock swelled to full hardness with startling speed.

"Ngh, San Lang," he groaned, licking his lips. "That—"

Xie Lian gasped.

Those long fingers that were fucking him open suddenly curled, the pads pressing against that sweet spot inside him, that spot that he had read about endlessly and heard Shi Qingxuan talk about when describing his various sexual encounters, but had never before experienced until now.

"Oh, god, what—" A liquid warmth spread throughout Xie Lian's pelvis and abdomen, and a bright flash of pleasure radiated up his shaft, tearing a strangled moan from the back of his throat. "What are you doing to me?"

"Teaching you a lesson." Hua Cheng's expression turned wicked. "You see, Your Highness, pleasure cuts both ways. It can be a reward and a punishment. And if I choose,"—his fingers circled Xie Lian's prostate with a perfect pressure and a perfect speed that made pinpricks of color explode behind his eyelids—"I can keep you here, just like this, without ever letting you come."

And that was exactly what Hua Cheng did.

He kept Xie Lian locked in a perpetual build-up, a suspended state of pleasure that spiraled out from his skillful manipulation of that single spot; it was a full-body experience, washing over him in pulsing waves that made the head of his cock leak continuously.

For a time, Xie Lian lost himself riding those waves, but no matter how high or low the crest, he was always aware of Hua Cheng's heated gaze, always aware of that connection they shared, allowing the other man to feel every ripple and quake of his body.

Just as skilled with his fingers as he was with his tongue, Hua Cheng worked Xie Lian like a master puppeteer; grinding,  pressing, patting, circling, touching, teasing, and massaging that magic button, driving him right up, up to that knife's edge without ever letting him fall over until his cock ached and the muscles of his inner thighs started to shake.

"Please, San Lang," he nearly wept, unable to take it anymore. "Please—"

"Please, what?" Hua Cheng asked, a smirk turning up the corners of his lips as Xie Lian rolled his hips, trying to take his fingers as deep as they could go. "Please, fuck you? This little hole of yours is so tight that I can barely even fit two fingers. At this rate, my cock will never fit. But go ahead and say it." He drove his fingers in hard, viciously nailing his prostate, and Xie Lian wailed. "Beg me. Beg me to fuck you. I want to hear it."

Part of Xie Lian hesitated, the tiny bit of ego he'd gained by bending Hua Cheng to his will earlier bristling at the thought of being reduced to begging. Again.

But the fingers strumming his prostate flexed and twisted, and the pleasurable agony being inflicted on him ratcheted up several notches and instantly shattered his resistance.

"Please, San Lang, I—I'll be good," Xie Lian pleaded, voice breaking as he locked his ankles behind Hua Cheng's thighs and reached for the waistband of his pajama pants. "I won't touch anything I'm not supposed to. I'll do everything you say. Please, I just want you inside me. Please."

Hua Cheng went still, and for a moment, the only sound that could be heard in the office was Xie Lian's whimpering.

Then, Hua Cheng let out a shaky breath, his expression almost pained, and when he spoke, there was a raw, ragged edge to his voice.

"God, you're so pretty. Why are you so fucking pretty?" Fingers still buried inside him, Hua Cheng leaned over Xie Lian and cupped his face with his free hand, a small tremor running through him. "You're gonna be the death of me, gege. You know that?"

Dropping his head, he crushed their mouths together in a kiss that was as ardent as it was reverential, and his fingers resumed their pumping. Only this time, there was none of the lazy, leisurely movements he'd previously been teasing him with.

This time, his fingers moved with a purpose that made Xie Lian let out a gasping cry.

But he still had the presence of mind to hurriedly push Hua Cheng's pants down just enough to free his erection, which was hot and flushed and leaking, and urged his hips forward until their cocks were aligned with one another.

"Haaah, fuck," Hua Cheng groaned against his lips as Xie Lian's fingers closed around their cocks.

His lover was already so wet that the additional lube wasn't even necessary, but Hua Cheng's larger size made stroking them both at once too difficult to manage with only one hand, so Xie Lian decided to use both.

And it was the right decision, judging from the rough, guttural noises spilling out of Hua Cheng's mouth.

Long and low, they made Xie Lian's stomach clench, and he had just enough time to look up at Hua Cheng and marvel at him. To think how beautiful he looked with his eye squeezed shut, lips slightly parted, and his face the very picture of ecstasy, before those fingers upped the pace and the pressure, and his mind went black with sensation.

"Oh! Oh, yes, San Lang, there!" Xie Lian cried, lifting his hips as a pleasurable jolt made his entire body sing.

"Yeah?" Hua Cheng growled, crooking his fingers even more and nailing his prostate with a punishing intensity. "Is that where you want my cock?"

"Yes, there! Right there!"

Xie Lian's orgasm swelled, pins and needles running up and down his spine as the pleasure burned a blazing line from underneath his balls to the tip of his cock, and he came with a scream.

"Oh, fuck, that's it," Hua Cheng panted, pressing their foreheads together once more and thrusting into his grip as Xie Lian convulsed so hard that he thought he might pass out. "Fuck, gege, fuck!"

And then Hua Cheng was coming too, moaning into the side of his neck, his hips working in rhythmic shudders as he joined Xie Lian, both of them painting each other's stomach in hot spurts until it was impossible to tell whose cum was whose.

Gradually, their movements slowed, and Hua Cheng collapsed on top of him, burying his head in Xie Lian's chest, the feathery strands of his hair and the moisture of his breath tickling his skin as their breathing returned to normal.

Silence reigned for a time, and then, suddenly, Xie Lian burst out laughing.

His body shook with the force of it, jostling Hua Cheng, who braced himself on the heel of one hand and lifted his head to stare up at him.

"What's so funny?" he asked, kissing the corner of Xie Lian's mouth.

"I was just—mmm . . ." Xie Lian's brows delicately furrowed as Hua Cheng slowly withdrew his fingers, leaving him feeling sadly empty and a little sore. "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"Well, one: this poor robe of yours is most definitely ruined, and two . . . " Woozily, he opened his eyes and stared down the line of their bodies at the mess streaking their stomachs and grinned. "I'm going to need another shower."

#

After his third shower of the day, Xie Lian exited the bathroom in one of the guest suites—this one had a shower system whose wall-mounted digital controller could be activated with your voice and the screen turned different colors according to the temperature of the water—and was shocked to find Hua Cheng reclining in the bed.

He wore a red bathrobe, and his hair, hanging long and loose over one shoulder, was damp.

Xie Lian, who was in the middle of toweling off his own hair, stopped in his tracks.

"What are you doing in here?"

Despite how they'd spent the last hour, Hua Cheng had still lost the game earlier, so their separation was still in effect.

"Well," Hua Cheng drawled, pushing up on one elbow. "Even though gege said he would be spending the night in one of the guest rooms, you never said I couldn't."

Xie Lian's jaw dropped. "You—"

Hua Cheng arched a brow and grinned, his head tilting jauntily to the side. "Yes? Something to say, gege?"

Xie Lian clamped his mouth shut.

In the wake of his triumph, he'd forgotten exactly who he was dealing with.

Mister Exploiter of Loopholes, Master-of-Bending-the-Rules-to-the-Furthest-Extent-Without-Actually-Breaking-Them, Charismatic-and-Far too-Clever-for-His-Own-Good, Hua-Freaking-Cheng.

Xie Lian let out a light scoff, his mouth twisting as he shook his head and stared at the extremely smug creature lying in his bed.

"I bet you think you're pretty smart, don't you?" Xie Lian snapped, planting both hands on his hips. "San Lang-gege, good-gege—oh, you're good, aren't you?"

Hua Cheng exploded into laughter. "Didn't I just get done showing gege how good I am?"

Xie Lian's cheeks burned at the reminder of his own shameless behavior, and seeing the effect he had on him, the Ghost King's smile became even more devilish, his eye smoldering as he crooked a finger at him.

"Now, come over here and call me 'gege' some more."

#

The next day, Hua Cheng, after successfully charming his way into Xie Lian's bed, slept in once again.

And once again, he awoke to find the other half of the bed empty with a note directing him to the kitchen.

Upon arriving, Hua Cheng found Xie Lian and Yin Yu laughing and chatting with one another as they worked together to make a large brunch with a variety of western-style dishes like avocado toast and scrambled eggs.

Xie Lian even tried his hand at blueberry pancakes, and even though they came out terribly misshapen and were a little overcooked on one side, they were the best pancakes Hua Cheng ever had.

Afterward, the three of them, bellies full, headed down to the media room—which was not as pretentious as it sounded—in the basement.

Aside from the bedrooms, this room was the most comfortable room in the house.

The media room was painted in darker tones—garnet colored walls with a charcoal-grey accent wall behind the one-hundred-and-twenty-inch television—but still very warm and cozy nonetheless.

A twelve-foot, built-in bar ran alongside the right wall, and like the bar in the Gambler's Den, this bar had a fluid, curved edge and had sprawling silver veins embedded in the black marble top.

And, of course, it came with all the features that made it every home bartender's wet dream—built-in wine refrigerator, automatic ice machine, speed rail, and a cocktail station.

Right next to the bar was a snack station with a small counter space, a fully stocked mini fridge, storage cabinets with a built-in microwave, a popcorn maker, and an espresso machine.

A huge, L-shaped, burgundy velvet sectional sat atop a red and black area rug with thick, plush pile, in the center of the room, and it was to this that Hua Cheng retired, pulling Xie Lian down beside him, while Yin Yu took one of the two power recliners flanking it.

Xie Lian was dressed in another one of Hua Cheng's oversized, black t-shirts and a pair of matching jersey joggers whose cuffs pooled around his ankles and whose waistband was only held up by the grace of a drawstring.

Earlier, Hua Cheng had placed an order for several new outfits and a couple pairs of shoes in Xie Lian's size that was due to be delivered later today (turned out that one of the benefits of having money was being able to arrange for a same day delivery at the last minute on a Saturday), but for now, he enjoyed the sight of his boyfriend in his house, wearing his things with an exceptional amount of delight.

As Xie Lian and Yin Yu decided what to watch—Alchemy of Souls or Taxi Driver?—Hua Cheng, feeling drowsy from the heavy meal, snuggled closer to his boyfriend and lay his head on his shoulder.

Before long, he was drifting off.

Should've invited those two stinking brats, he slurred sleepily. Xiao-Ying and the boys . . . Black Water and Shi Qingxuan, too.

It would have been nice to have all of his favorite people in one place (even if Shi Qingxuan wanted to stick a rather vicious-looking high heel up his ass).

Mmm, oh well, Hua Cheng yawned, his eyelid fluttering shut. Maybe tomorrow . . .

#

"I confess," Nan Shen said with a wolfish smile, draping a possessive hand over Wuming's head, "even though I had hoped you would come for the shipment, I didn't think you would sacrifice yourself in order to get it."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do," Wuming gloated.

Nan Shen locked eyes with him, the air of danger in the room rising as his expression flickered, and the hand on the back of Wuming's head buried itself in his hair, yanking it by the roots. "Let's find out."

As Wuming steeled himself for what was about to happen next, he heard Yin Yu's voice in his head, begging him not to go earlier this evening, and part of him really wished he could have listened.

"Perhaps, I've been a little too friendly," Nan Shen replied conversationally, sending bolts of searing pain streaking from Wuming's scalp all the way down the back of his neck. "Is that our problem, xingan? Do you think you no longer need to fear me?"

"Go to hell," Wuming sneered.

Nan Shen sighed, his face tight and his voice deep with displeasure.

"All these years, I took the utmost care in teaching you, yet you remain obtuse and stubborn. No matter. I'll take my time and teach you, again, little by little, until you realize that no one in this world will ever truly understand you, and no one will stay by your side forever—except me. Now," he said, "let us start over."

The old, familiar smell of oak and bitter orange was just as overpowering now as it was back then, invading his nostrils, and Nan Shen leaned over him, slamming his head to the floor with one hand while the other viciously tore at his pants.

Despite being stunned by the blow, Wuming was still determined not to make it easy for Nan Shen and immediately tried to fight him off.

But with Nan Shen on top of him, and his hands being tied so tightly behind his back that it made his shoulders ache, his options were limited.

When bucking him off didn't work, Wuming threw all his strength into rolling to one side in an attempt to create some space between them.

But the consequences of fighting the man who taught him everything he knew in a situation where most of his defensive tools had already been eliminated made it exceedingly easy for Nan Shen to anticipate him.

Given that he was face down, and his pants were now tangled around his thighs, it was impossible for Wuming to try and hook him with one of his legs, and since Nan Shen kept Wuming's head—arguably, his greatest weapon in his current predicament—pinned to the floor, he could not snap his skull up and back to try and break the man's nose.

The moment he felt cool air on the bare skin of his ass, Wuming knew it was all over, and the only thing he could do was squeeze his eye shut and clench his teeth against the brutal intrusion that split the core of his entire being.

It had been a year.

Wuming had spent an entire year free from Nan Shen's "attentions," and now his body was no longer accustomed to the routine violations he'd been experiencing under his roof.

There was no preparation, no lubrication.

Just pain.

It hurts.

Wuming wanted to cry out, to thrash around, to do something, anything, to vocalize and give shape to the anguish building up inside of him, but he wouldn't give Nan Shen the satisfaction.

It took every ounce of strength he had, for the assault, the way it tore through him, was a very specific agony.

The type of pain that instantly paralyzed, overwhelming every other sense until you were reduced to nothing more than raw nerve.

Brows knitted fiercely, Wuming pressed his forehead into the ivory marble that had already been stained with his blood.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts . . .

Although some distant part of Wuming knew the pain wouldn't last forever, that it had to end at some point, the knowledge did nothing to assuage his mounting torment.

But his mind and his spirit were still his own, so even though he could not escape the physical brutality being inflicted on him, Wuming was able to burrow deep into that secret place in his heart where he kept his most treasured memories of the only person who had ever cared about him without demanding anything in return.

Fang Xin.

Just knowing that he was out there, somewhere in the world, gave Wuming hope.

And he brought all of his powers of recollection to bear, trying to immerse himself in the memory of the other boy's warmth and sweetness, clothing himself in that gentle radiance in order to hold the seething darkness surrounding him at bay.

But just as Wuming felt himself gravitating toward something—not peace, exactly, but some sort of solace—Nan Shen thrust into him hard, the pain so piercing that it felt like being run through with a sword, and just like that, the fragile equilibrium between body and mind was shattered.

It hurts. Wuming choked on a silent wail, his fingernails digging into the meat of his palms as the light sputtered out, and his vision went black.

It hurts. It hurts. IT FUCKING HURTS.

But there was nothing he could do.

He couldn't slow it down, and he most certainly couldn't stop it.

All he could do was endure.

Only the longer it went on, the more he lost faith in his own capacity to do even that, and just when Wuming started to think he might be better off dead, a strange chill washed over him.

Wetness pooled beneath his cheek, and, at first, he thought it was his own tears, but the texture was wrong.

It was viscid; thick and sticky and partially solidified—

And cold.

A hollow dread gripped Wuming's heart as he opened his eye to see Ming Yi lying on the floor right next to him.

But it wasn't the Ming Yi he knew.

It was his corpse.

Just like the last time Wuming had ever seen him, Ming Yi was shirtless, but his skin was no longer pale and slightly sunburned.

Now, it was a mottled black and green, riddled with ruptures and tears and dark, leathery patches that stippled his swollen face and hands.

Wuming stared in horror as black blood and liquified, yellowish-gray brain matter leaked from the hole in Ming Yi's temple, staining the clumps of violet hair that had sloughed off his blackened skull.

"Dang, dage," he gurgled, his sunken, milky-white eyes gazing placidly into Wuming's soul as foul, reddish-brown fluid oozed from the corners of his dried, cracked lips. "Your special someone really lucked out."

Wuming screamed.

#

"San Lang!" a strangled voice cried. "San—"

"Dage, stop!" another voice shouted. "Stop! Dage!"

Some distant part of Hua Cheng's somnolent brain heard those voices the same way one might pick up the sound of an alarm clock going off nearby in the middle of a deep slumber. But he didn't understand what he was hearing because the rest of him was still caught in that black dream.

Overcome with rage and revulsion, Wuming tore his eyes away from Ming Yi's corpse and snapped his bonds, bringing his arm up and back to elbow Nan Shen in the face.

Stunned, the older man fell back, and Wuming, capitalizing on the moment, turned and launched himself forward with a savage cry.

Knocking him to the floor, Wuming sat astride Nan Shen's upper body and wrapped both hands around his neck.

"I hate you!" he bellowed, digging his nails in and squeezing the delicate column of Nan Shen's throat until he could feel the rubbery cartilage quivering underneath his fingers. "I hate you! I'll fucking kill you, you bastard! I’ll kill you!”

Nan Shen gagged, his hands scrabbling at Wuming's wrists as he gazed up at him desperately, his eyes pleading.

"San Lang," he croaked. And for a moment, his face flickered, revealing a softer, more beautiful visage. "San Lang, please . . . wake up."

San Lang? At the sound of that name, Hua Cheng instinctively recoiled, and the dream suddenly fragmented around him. The ivory marble floor of the office disappeared, replaced by velvet cushions, and the body underneath him was no longer Nan Shen's but—

Hua Cheng's pupil shrank.

"Gege?!?" he gasped.

And just like that, awareness crashed over Hua Cheng, leaving him blisteringly conscious of exactly why Yin Yu was currently gripping him by the shoulders and of exactly what he'd been doing.

He'd been—

"San Lang."

"Oh, god." Horrified, Hua Cheng lifted his hands from Xie Lian's throat—Xie Lian, whom he had somehow managed to pin down on the couch—but before he could pull away, the smaller man caught his wrists, stopping him.

"No," he said in a soft, low voice. Xie Lian's gaze was steady, and he spoke to Hua Cheng the same way he might have spoken to a spooked animal. "San Lang, . . . just try to calm down. It's okay.” He coughed. “Everything is okay. You were just having a bad dream, that's all."

"It's not okay, gege," Hua Cheng snapped, angry and disgusted with himself. "I was choking you. I could have killed you!"

Pulling his wrists out of Xie Lian's grip, Hua Cheng straightened his back and scrambled away, removing himself to the other side of the couch.

"No, you couldn't have." Freed from his oppressive weight, Xie Lian sat up and coughed some more. "San Lang, look at me." But Hua Cheng couldn't look at him, couldn't look at the furious red marks that he'd left all over his throat. "It might have felt longer because you were asleep, but the whole thing probably lasted less than a minute."

"He's right, dage," Yin Yu chimed in, standing off to the side. His impeccably pressed t-shirt had been wrinkled beyond repair during his struggle to pull him off of Xie Lian. "Please, listen to him."

"But I still hurt you," Hua Cheng insisted, not understanding why the two of them were trying to give him a free pass.

"No, you didn't," Xie Lian pushed back, gentle but firm. "You surprised me more than anything else. I'm fine. I promise you that I am fine."

But Hua Cheng didn't want to hear this; he didn't want—nor did he deserve—to be forgiven for putting his hands on the man he loved and nearly choking him to death.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" he asked, clutching his head, his limbs wracked with post-adrenaline tremors. Icy sweat soaked the back of his neck, and his stomach felt sick.

There was a brief silence, and then he heard Xie Lian say, "I'm sorry to trouble you, Yin Yu, but do you think you could make your dage and I some tea?"

"Ah, of course," Yin Yu agreed, immediately catching on. "I'll be right back."

"I don't understand," Hua Cheng whispered into the resounding silence after Yin Yu left. "Why is this happening? I'm happy. This is the happiest I've been in months." He turned to Xie Lian, regarding him with a beseeching gaze. "So, why?"

"Oh, San Lang," Xie Lian sighed, then crawled up on his knees beside Hua Cheng and reached out, taking him in his arms.

The beat of his heart was regular and even under Hua Cheng's cheek, his slender body safe and warm. And although he wanted more than anything to lose himself inside that reassuring embrace, he didn't deserve to after what he'd just done, and so he didn't dare move.

"As someone who has had a little bit of experience with these things," Xie Lian began, resting his chin on top of Hua Cheng's head. "I've learned that trauma doesn't always come out during our worst moments. Sometimes, it comes out when we're at our best. And, at first, it seems like a cruel joke, but I really do think there's a reason for it." Leaning back, he cupped Hua Cheng's cheek, slowly turning his face toward him. "Do you remember when I had that panic attack the first time we were in bed together?"

Hua Cheng nodded.

"I don't think that happened because I felt like I was in danger or because of anything you did wrong." Xie Lian smiled. "On the contrary, you made me feel safe, and I think what happened happened because some part of my subconscious recognized that. It recognized that I already had the right tools, and I was with the right person, and that it was finally okay to let everything that I'd been holding onto out." Xie Lian sighed again, a fleeting regret crossing his features. "I really wish I had been brave enough to tell you the truth that night, but I was terrified that if you found out about the video Lang Qianqiu had spread around, you'd never look at me the same way again."

The admission penetrated deeply, making Hua Cheng's heart ache because he understood that fear.

The fear of having someone's perception of you irrevocably altered—not because of something you did but because of something that was done to you.

Things were different with Yin Yu; he didn't fear judgment because they both carried similar scars.

And Black Water was . . . Black Water.

Hua Cheng had told him the entire story when they first met, not necessarily because he wanted to, but as penance. He owed Ming Yi, and the debt was one that could never be repaid, so no matter what Black Water's reaction to receiving the information was, Hua Cheng would have accepted it.

Surprisingly, Black Water didn't judge him harshly, either, but the man was as inscrutable as his name, and not exactly fluent in emotion. For him, empathy was mostly expressed in awkward silences and even more awkward hand pats.

Their conversation the other night was probably the most self-aware Black Water had ever been (at least in Hua Cheng’s presence), and maybe one day, after it was all over, the two of them would revisit things and Black Water would finally have the vocabulary to tell him how he really felt—if they were still alive.

But Xie Lian was not Yin Yu or Black Water.

He was the man Hua Cheng loved, and for whom he always wanted to be strong. Exposing this side of himself meant exposing more than just the ugliness—it meant exposing all of his weaknesses, too—and it would, inevitably, shatter whatever image Xie Lian had of Hua Cheng in his head.

And Hua Cheng just didn't know if he was brave enough to face that.

At the same time, how could they continue to move forward without some kind of explanation after what he just did?

As Hua Cheng sat there, turning Xie Lian's words over in his head while silently warring with himself, Yin Yu suddenly reappeared with the tea.

Still maintaining his usual sense of decorum, he set down the tray, then swiftly poured the tea from the pot directly into a glass pitcher.

To save time, the cups had already been placed onto saucers, and into each cup Yin Yu dispensed the pale yellow brew.

The scent that wafted from the cups was fresh, grassy, and a little bit floral; it had a hint of chestnut and malted chocolate.

As the honored guest, Xie Lian was served first, and because his hands wouldn't stop shaking, he accepted Hua Cheng's cup, too.

After inquiring whether the two of them needed anything else, Xie Lian shook his head and smiled up at Yin Yu, murmuring, "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure," he replied with a quick bow before excusing himself.

Hua Cheng glanced up just as Yin Yu paused in front of the entryway.

His friend held his gaze for a moment and gave him his signature happy-sad smile paired with an encouraging nod, then disappeared.

Xie Lian picked up his cup, lowering his nose to savor the aroma, and took a sip.

"Listen, San Lang," he ventured carefully. His hair was a little bit wild, voluminous on the sides, and tousled in the back. "I know you've been holding something back from me. I haven't asked because I felt like whatever it was needed to be said in your own time. And I'm not asking you now."

Xie Lian set the cup down and placed a hand on Hua Cheng's arm, his touch as light and delicate as butterfly wings.

"I just want you to know that if there is something you want to say, I'm here to listen. But if you just want to sit quietly, I'll sit here with you for however long you want."

Hua Cheng’s heart shot into his throat, his mouth flooding with saliva.

The atmosphere felt heavy, weighted, and it was as if his body forgot how to properly breathe; the rhythm of his inhalations and exhalations was completely off.

Desperate for some kind of relief—or maybe just a distraction—Hua Cheng grabbed his cup and threw back the tea, uncaring of the way it burned his throat on the way down.

The texture was thick, almost brothy, and tasted like roasted pumpkin and nougat with a dash of lemon zest.

Staring down at the bottom of the empty cup, Hua Cheng couldn't stop a wry smile from springing to his lips.

Even under duress, Yin Yu was as circumspect as ever.

Anji Bai Cha was a calming tea; known to be soothing, it kept the drinker alert without making them jittery or sleepy.

The man deserved a raise. Truly.

Feeling a little steadier, he sucked in a deep breath.

Mentally, Hua Cheng didn't know if he really had the right tools, but he knew with absolute certainty that he had the right person.

And maybe . . . maybe it was exactly as Xie Lian said.

Maybe the past rearing its ugly head now was not because of some kind of karmic "gotcha" but because it was simply time for it to come out.

All that was left now was to begin.

"Gege already knows that I lost my mother when I was ten. But I never told you what happened afterward. My father was long gone, and I had no other relatives to take me in, so I was placed in foster care." He swallowed, staring straight ahead. "The Xianle City foster care system is—I wouldn't wish it on anybody. It's underfunded and overburdened. There's not enough case workers. There's not enough homes. Foster parents aren't vetted or monitored properly. And even if you are "lucky" enough to receive a placement, the risk of abuse or neglect is extremely high." He snorted. "I've lost track of how many times I was beaten by ‘loving’ foster parents who were only in it for the paycheck."

Hua Cheng sniffed, shifting his gaze to his hands, tangled limply in his lap.

"School wasn't much better. The missing eye made me stand out, and all the other kids thought I was some kind of freak because of it. They bullied the shit out of me. Threw rocks at me on the playground, pushed me down in puddles to ruin my clothes, and made up all kinds of stories. They said I didn't have a mom because she didn't want me, and I didn't have a proper home because my real family didn't want me, either." He shrugged, his expression bitter. "Who knows? Maybe they were right. There was no one around back then to speak for me. The teachers saw everything, but not a single one lifted a finger to stop it, and my foster parents didn't give a flying fuck. So, I ran away."

Xie Lian listened quietly as Hua Cheng explained the ebb and flow of the two years he spent living on the streets. How, whenever the cops picked him up, they would bring him to yet another set of two-faced pricks masquerading as "resource parents," and he'd be forced to endure even more abuse while waiting for the opportune moment to run away once more.

Life on the streets wasn't better, but it was preferable because at least Hua Cheng had some control over what happened to him.

"And unlike school, I had friends out there. Other kids who had stories similar to mine—one or both parents dead, missing, or incarcerated—and some who had stories worse than mine. Like Xiao-Yu."

Xie Lian's brows shot up. "You mean—?"

"Mmm." Hua Cheng nodded. "Pretty much everyone gege has met so far—Xiao-Yu, Zhu An, Zhu Tufu, Xiao-Ying—they're all people I used to run with way back when." A vague nostalgia crept over his features. "We were quite the little con-artists. Had to be, if we wanted to survive. And there was one scam we'd run over and over."

After describing the shenanigans they pulled with the local food delivery trucks to a somewhat bemused Xie Lian, Hua Cheng went on to recount the day everything went wrong.

"One day, we decided to hit a new place. It was a hotel, recently built, with a restaurant inside it. They were preparing for their grand opening, so quite a few delivery trucks were going in and out each day. At first, everything was fine. Xiao-Yu was distracting the driver, and I kept watch while everyone carried out the food. Usually, the whole thing went flawlessly, but that day, Zhu Tufu tripped. Even back then, he wasn't exactly petite, so when he hit the bed of that truck, it caused a miniature avalanche. Food fell everywhere, and the sound alerted not only the driver, but the men who were working inside the restaurant."

Tea forgotten, Xie Lian stared at Hua Cheng with wide eyes, the look on his face slightly troubled.

"Three men came rushing out, but they didn't look like any cooks or hotel employees that I had ever seen. They wore nice suits, really nice, but they looked more like they belonged on the streets with me and my friends, if that makes sense. I knew right away that they were dangerous, and every instinct I had was telling me to run, but one of them grabbed Xiao-Yu." Hua Cheng's mouth flattened into a thin line as he recalled his friend's cries after he was grabbed by that no-necked son-of-a-bitch Jin Yu. "I still remember his little face, all scrunched up, with tears streaming down his cheeks. He was terrified. I couldn't leave him there."

He waited in the back of the truck until the man had carried a squealing Xiao-Yu over and then flung a half-ripped open bag of rice flour in his face.

The man was badly startled and immediately lost his grip on the child, who fell to the pavement in a shower of white powder.

Wuming hauled Xiao-Yu up with his right hand, intending to make their escape, when a lanky guy in an ill-fitting blue suit came around from the other side of the truck.

Fortunately, Wuming had been prepared for such a development and threw the can of soup in his left hand as hard as he could at the guy's kneecap.

Half bent over, Skinny Guy howled in pain, and with both men thus distracted, making their escape should have been easy, but then a third guy lunged through the flour cloud, tackling Wuming to the ground.

By that time, Skinny Guy had recovered, and Wuming, knowing he was already screwed, shouted at a hesitating Xiao-Yu to run.

After that, he was snatched up by the back of his shirt by No Neck as the third guy looked into the truck's trailer and shouted, "Those little bastards stole all the food!"

Oh, please, Wuming thought, we didn't steal that much.

"Opening day is tomorrow," Skinny Guy said, trying to brush the lingering particles of rice flour off his suit. "What are we supposed to do now? The hotel and the restaurant are completely booked up!"

Xie Lian raised both hands to his mouth, covering his bottom lip with his fingers. "Did they . . . report you?"

"Oh, they reported me," Hua Cheng said in a dry voice. "But it wasn't to the police."

"What's your name?" Nan Shen inquired as soon as the double doors to his study clicked firmly shut.

"Mobsters aren't fond of the cops, you see. They prefer to handle their problems 'in-house.' To be honest, I didn't think much of Nan Shen—at first. Thought he was just some rich asshole propping himself up on the backs of those suited up thugs to try and make himself look tough. But it didn't take long for me to realize he was the real deal," Hua Cheng explained. "There was this . . . coldness about him, this air of danger. Being in the same room with him felt like being locked inside with a tiger. You just knew, instinctively, that he was not someone to fuck with."

Xie Lian bit his lip, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Did he hurt you?"

Hua Cheng shook his head. "He offered me a job."

#

Wuming refused to move. "What do you want?"

"Didn't I already say? I want you to work for me." The black threads of his hair, stylishly pushed back from his high forehead, gleamed under the sunlight. "You'll have to be tested, of course, to see what level you're at in terms of your education, so that you may resume your studies. Meanwhile, I shall personally instruct you in a variety of different subjects pertaining to—"

"Why?" Wuming cut him off, full of hostile suspicion. "Why are you trying to help me?"

Nan Shen turned to face him once more. "Because I've been looking for someone like you."

He scoffed. "Someone like me? You don't even know me."

"I don't need to," he replied, taking several slow, measured steps in his direction. "I can see everything I need to know right there—" He pointed. "—in your eye. I can feel it in the very air around you."

"What?" Wuming asked, brow furrowed.

Less than a single step away, Nan Shen stopped, his dark eyes boring into him. "Rage."

"He said he'd been looking for someone like me. At the time, I didn't understand what he meant, not really. All I knew was that he saw me in a way that no one else did."

Nan Shen brought his hand up, swiping away the solitary tear that had escaped from the corner of Wuming's eye.

"The world may not see anything when they look at you, but I do. I see a beautiful block of jade with limitless potential, and if you allow me to guide and educate you, I will shape and polish you into something truly extraordinary."

"I was a very angry kid, gege. Up until that point, I felt like my life was nothing but suffering. Every day was agony, and even though I did my best to keep it together, I just . . . I wanted to kill every single one of the bastards who hurt me, then myself." The admission made Hua Cheng's gut twist with shame. After all, what kind of twelve-year-old would think such horrible things? "And Nan Shen could see it. But instead of being disgusted like most people would have been, he turned around and offered me everything that I had ever wanted—power, strength, and freedom."

"You'll never be powerless again. You'll never be cold, you'll never go hungry, you'll never have to spend another night on the streets. Whatever you want—you can have it. There won't be anything or anyone to hold you back. You'll be free."

"That day, Nan Shen took me in, and for almost two years, everything was perfect."

It was so easy to remember the good parts, even easier to talk about them, and for the next five minutes, Hua Cheng told Xie Lian about life in the Wuyong Compound.

How he had his own room full of books and designer clothes that would have made those bullying shitheads back at his old school weep with envy.

How he had the finest tutors and received the best education money could buy.

How he ate every night until his stomach was full, dining on delicacies he could only dream of while living on the streets.

How he slept warm in the winter and cool in the summer on a king-size, luxury mattress that cost more money than some people made in a lifetime.

How, when he was fourteen, he met his best friend, Ming Yi.

"I was downtown, passing by a bar near Beizi Avenue, when I heard a cry from an alleyway."

The first thing he remembered thinking upon seeing the young boy hemmed up against the wall by a drunk twenty-something who was clearly having trouble keeping his hands to himself was that such things weren't supposed to happen in nice places like this.

Later on, he would learn that people were equally shitty no matter what section of town they hailed from, but at the time, he was still young enough to be surprised, and that surprise quickly turned into outrage, and that outrage drove Wuming's fists right into the guy's temple and jaw.

After it was all over, he turned to the boy with purple hair, who had fallen on his butt and was now staring at Wuming and his bloody nose with a mixture of shock and amazement while trying to hold his torn shirt closed.

"Come on," Wuming said, holding out his hand. "Let's get out of here."

"I took Ming Yi to a street stall. Got him something to eat, and we talked for a long time." Hua Cheng could still smell the garlicky scent of scallions from the crispy pepper buns they ate, could still taste the tropical sweetness of the chua bing, delighting in the way the thin flakes of the shaved ice melted on his tongue. "His parents were addicted to meth, and after an older woman in their apartment building reported them for neglect, he and his brother were placed in a foster home by social services. He said his foster parents weren't that bad, but he didn't feel like he belonged there, so he split."

Hua Cheng's smile held a tinge of wistfulness.

"I could relate. Since he didn't have any place to go, I asked him if he'd like to come back to the compound with me. I'd never disobeyed Nan Shen's rules, and I'd never asked for anything strictly for myself, so I was confident that he'd give me this one thing. And he did. Without hesitation."

Looking back on it now, Hua Cheng felt extremely stupid for not seeing Nan Shen's acceptance of Ming Yi into his household for what it was: a manipulation tactic designed to deepen his trust and create a sense of indebtedness.

But at the time, all he felt was gratitude.

"I was so happy to finally have someone in the compound who was my own age, and from then on, the two of us were thick as thieves."

Looking genuinely happy for him, Xie Lian asked with great interest, "What was Ming Yi like?"

"Ming Yi was . . ." Canting his head to the side, Hua Cheng stared at Xie Lian from the corner of his eye and grinned. "He was a little like you, gege. Ming Yi was gentle and kind, the sort of person who wouldn't hesitate to give you the shirt off his back. But he also had a mischievous streak. He liked to tease and play pranks, and he had the funniest laugh. The kind that would make you laugh just from hearing it." Chuckling softly, he rubbed his chin, hearing the echo of Ming Yi's insane cackling in his ears. "Wasn't much of a reader—of books, anyway. But he liked comics and playing video games as much as me even though he was terrible at it. The one thing he was really good at, though, where no one else could touch him, was doing hair and makeup."

"Oh, he and Qingxuan would have been best friends, then," Xie Lian said with a little laugh.

"I think all three of you would have loved each other," Hua Cheng snickered. "Yeah, I know you would’ve."

He fell silent for a long time after that, his eye going distant, as if he were peering through the years at a future that never happened.

Ming Yi, with a pair of scissors, and Shi Qingxuan, with a brush, both grinning madly as they forced a laughing Xie Lian into a chair to be their guinea pig while a dismayed He Xuan and Hua Cheng looked on, helpless to stop it. Getting between those two once they got started was like trying to stand between an earthquake and a hurricane. It couldn't be done.

"Life was good," he said, the vision fading from his mind. "I was happy. But what I didn't know was that happiness came with a price, and a few months after my fifteenth birthday, the bill came due."

It was the middle of the night.

He and Ming Yi had stayed up late playing Eternal Champions on an ancient Sega Genesis Wuming had found at a thrift shop, then he'd fallen asleep reading God Pleasing Warrior for the millionth time after his best friend, tired of getting his ass kicked, slunk off to his room to watch Brad Mondo videos.

Even though he was asleep, Wuming had a tendency to sleep light—a remnant from his time on the street, where the consequences of not being attuned to your environment could be deadly.

Since he started living with Nan Shen, this hadn't been a concern. So, even if he was abruptly awakened by a random noise or a change in the weather, he was able to fall right back to sleep, feeling safe and secure.

But for the first time in three years, Wuming was suddenly ejected from his sleep and woke with an inaudible gasp. Skin tinging and heart pounding, every one of his senses shrieked at him like he was—

In danger.

Wuming looked up to see Nan Shen standing over the bed, staring down at him.

His body was backlit by the night light mounted to the wall near the ensuite bathroom, making him look like a spectre rising out of the dark.

The scent of alcohol wafted off his clothes, the oaky, caramelized aroma of bourbon laced with notes of bitter orange permeated the air, tickling the inside of Wuming's nose.

Nan Shen had spent the evening at The Crescent Moon, being wined and dined by a group of black market traders hoping to boost business by utilizing Wuyong's distribution network and warehouse facilities.

It wasn't unusual for him to pop in after a meeting if he noticed that Wuming's light was still on when he came home. Normally, they'd chat for a bit; he'd update Wuming on any new developments, and then Nan Shen would ruffle his hair and tell him to go to bed.

But he'd never done anything like this before.

"Nan Shen?" Wuming asked, rising up on one elbow to peer at him through a squinted eye. "Is something—"

Although he'd clearly been drinking, Nan Shen's hand shot out with alarming speed. He pressed his palm flat to Wuming's chest, pushing him back into the mattress and sending his copy of God Pleasing Warrior crashing to the floor.

"It wasn't the first time an adult had come onto me. On the streets, in foster homes—it was just something that happened," Hua Cheng confessed, swallowing against the sour taste in his mouth. "But it was the first time I didn't know what to do about it. My body . . ." he trailed off, an icy emptiness settling over him. "I could feel my hands tightening into fists on reflex. But my mind—I hesitated. Nan Shen was good to me. He was patient. He didn't hit, he didn't yell. Under his roof, I enjoyed the best of what life had to offer, and everything I had, I had by his grace alone."

"Everything that you have, I have given you. All that you are, I made you."

"San Lang," Xie Lian said, covering Hua Cheng's hands with one of his own. He twisted his upper body and leaned forward a little to try and catch his eye, but didn't crowd into Hua Cheng's space. "You were fifteen." He spoke with a quiet insistence. "Taking you in was his own choice. You didn't owe him anything."

"I know that." Gaze vacant, he nodded, shame curdling his insides. "Now. But, back then, in that moment, I didn't. I thought I owed him, and a part of me worried that if I didn't give Nan Shen what he wanted, he would toss me back out into the street. And I didn't want to go back to that, gege." His voice broke. "I didn't want to go back to stealing from food trucks and sleeping under concrete overpasses full of broken bottles and dirty needles. And I had Ming Yi to think about, too. If Nan Shen threw me out, Ming Yi would also have to leave."

Then, he related how, earlier that night, while the two of them were stuffing their faces full of Chef's pineapple cake in between rounds, Ming Yi randomly expressed his gratitude to Hua Cheng's younger self.

"You know, back then, I was in that alley because that college guy offered me money in exchange for a blow job," Ming Yi suddenly said out of nowhere. "I was super hungry. Hadn't eaten in almost two days, so I told myself that it would be easy. But . . . when it came down to it, I got scared. At that point, the guy wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, though, and started to rough me up a bit. If you hadn't come along . . ." He shivered like a duck flicking water from its feathers and banished the thought from his mind. "Anyway! Now, I get to be here with you and eat food like this." He grinned at Wuming, cream cheese smeared all over his upper lip. "Thanks, dage."

"How could I risk thrusting my best friend back into a situation where he would be forced to make those kinds of choices? How could I take away the first bit of stability Ming Yi had in years?"

Suddenly, the tension went out of Wuming's body, his arms going slack as his fists uncurled, and the tiny crescents etched on the meat of his palms stung as they were exposed to the air.

"So, I let it happen." Scalding heat crept in prickling lines up Hua Cheng’s back and neck as he tried to block the flood of images that followed the admission, but they were coming too fast—things he wasn't aware that he still remembered and things he'd tried to forget—rushing at him with the force of a tsunami. "The whole time, he kept apologizing. Saying he was sorry, he was sorry, but I was the only one . . ."

"The 'only one' what?" Xie Lian asked.

Hua Cheng wanted to see his face, but the humiliation was tearing through him like an illness, making him feel overheated and sick.

He shook his head.

"I don't know," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe he felt like I was the only one who understood him."

The fucked up part was that it was probably true.

Nan Shen never really discussed his past, but Hua Cheng had seen glimpses here and there that made him believe his former mentor had come up from circumstances similar to his own.

"I know all of these things," Nan Shen confided, "because I, too, was once in your position. Life taught me from a very young age that I was powerless in the face of many things in this world. But you're not powerless, Wuming." A sneer entered his voice. "The weak and mediocre of this world only want you to think so. They want you to buy into their little fiction, so you'll continue to let them trample over you."

What had happened to him to make him say such things? Who was capable of making a man like Nan Shen feel powerless?

As a young man, Hua Cheng never dared to ask, but it was clear that Nan Shen understood what it was like to live with years of built-up pain, resentment, anger, and hatred boiling in your heart.

And it explained why he could so easily identify it in Hua Cheng from the second they met.

Like called to like, after all, and now that Hua Cheng had gone through his own trials on his way to adulthood, having climbed his way to the top out of nothing while leaving a trail of bodies and blood in his wake, he realized that he and Nan Shen did share some kind of twisted connection.

It wasn't a connection grounded in love or affection, but recognition.

Laying eyes on Hua Cheng for the first time in his study must have been surreal for Nan Shen, like seeing history repeat itself.

And he'd always gotten the sense that that's what Nan Shen wanted.

He wanted history to repeat itself, so he poured all of his time and all of his energy molding Hua Cheng into the person he wanted him to be while steering him down the same path, hoping he would make the same choices at every turn.

"You are everything I hoped you would be, xingan." His eyes were bright with exhilaration, and his gaze was hungry as he bent at the waist and took Wuming's chin in his hand. "Those men out there,"—he gestured errantly toward the closed door—"they think you're foolish for allowing yourself to be apprehended. But what they've failed to grasp is that it's only with that kind of devotion—relentless, unwavering—that you can ascend in this world. You have to be willing to risk it all, to sacrifice everything—including yourself. That's the difference between gods and commoners. Between them and us."

Wuming jerked his head, rocking back on his knees and tearing his chin out of Nan Shen's grip. "I'm nothing like you."

One corner of Nan Shen's mouth curled. "Oh, you're exactly like me."

A single instance of rebellion, Nan Shen was willing to allow—after all, what child didn't rebel against their parents?—but it must have been especially galling when Hua Cheng broke ranks a second time and escaped.

His perfect vessel shattered, that mirror image marred as Hua Cheng continued to reject Nan Shen again and again.

As he said, Nan Shen probably did miss him. He probably missed having someone as damaged as himself following at his heels, hanging on his every word, and into whom he could release his poisonous emotions without fear of breaking them.

Far from it—Hua Cheng readily absorbed that poison until he was saturated in it, until he became equally poisonous to the touch, much to Nan Shen's delight.

It ensured that Hua Cheng would continue to be a blight, the worst of misfortune, infecting everyone around him and leaving him isolated and easy prey to the man who had deftly driven a wedge between him and the outside world while presenting himself as his savior.

No one in this world will ever truly understand you, and no one will stay by your side forever—except me.

No, not love—although, maybe Nan Shen thought of his warped regard as love. But to Hua Cheng, it was just a lethal obsession and a campaign of coercion and orchestrated deceit that began the following morning.

"The next day, he gave me a car. A Lamborghini Diablo SE30 with a Jota upgrade kit—incredibly rare, and in perfect condition, those cars can go for a million dollars. And the one he gave me was perfect." Again, Hua Cheng felt a stab of humiliation. "At the time, I was too stupid to see the car or any of the other gifts he plied me with after one of his late–night visits for what they were."

"Love bombing," Xie Lian said, the two words laden with the weight of his own experience.

For the first time, Hua Cheng dared to look at him, and what he saw reflected in Xie Lian's eyes wasn't disgust or criticism or even the pity that he'd been fearing but a silent commiseration.

"To be honest, gege, if you had asked me back then, I wouldn't have even categorized what Nan Shen was doing to me as abuse. All these years later, my brain still has trouble making that distinction sometimes because he wasn't violent . . . during. He was normal—at least, insofar as my lack of experience told me he was because I had nothing to compare it to." For a second, Nan Shen's drunken, nonsensical murmurs slithered into Hua Cheng's ears, and he had to resist the urge to shake them off. "It wasn't until after I met my first crush that I started to see things differently."

Despite the gravity of the moment, amusement flickered over Xie Lian's features as he recalled their conversation from the night before. "Was this crush the same person who gave you mono?"

Hua Cheng gazed at Xie Lian for a long time, his eyelid drooping low. "The very same."

#

"What kind of person was your crush?" Xie Lian asked.

Hua Cheng smiled. "Are you jealous?"

"Of course, I'm jealous, San Lang," Xie Lian admitted, flashing his teeth at him. "They met a version of you that I'll never get to see."

Hua Cheng considered telling him the truth right there—that he and Fang Xin were one and the same.

But.

He didn't want to do it like this, with the memory of his abuse hanging heavy in the air and the ghost of Nan Shen looming over them.

When he finally told Xie Lian the truth, he wanted it to be a joyous occasion.

At least, he hoped it would be. Some small part of him was still uncertain as to how Xie Lian would react to finding out that the boy he spent ten days with in that room was now the man sitting before him.

"I don't think gege missed much," Hua Cheng remarked. "That person saw me at my worst."

"Did you ever tell them how you felt?"

Every night, Hua Cheng thought, his eye twinkling. In my dreams.

Aloud, he said, "I was too afraid. But meeting him changed the trajectory of my life, because, for the first time, I got to experience what it was like to love someone on my own terms. Which finally made me understand that what Nan Shen was doing to me wasn't right. He saved me." Before he could stop himself, Hua Cheng reached out and smoothed a thumb over Xie Lian's brow, then brushed the backs of his fingers lightly down his cheek. "After all these years, I'm sure he probably doesn't remember me very well, but I'll never forget him."

Hua Cheng dropped his hand, then turned, bowing his head.

"I only wish that I had been brave enough to live up to the standard he set." Hua Cheng's lips twisted into a rueful smile. "But I was a coward, and my cowardice cost Ming Yi his life."

"Ugh, fine," Ming Yi pouted, picking up another pawn and twirling it between his agile fingers.

He shot Wuming a calculating stare brimming with mischief and then smiled.

"So," he said. "Dage. Tell me about this 'noble, gracious, special someone' of yours."

"It was a hot day. We were playing chess out by the pool, and Ming Yi—I told you he had a mischievous streak—was teasing me because he confessed his feelings to me a few nights before, then blindsided me with a kiss, and I panicked."

"Oh, no." Xie Lian winced, his face pinched with sympathy.

"Yeah," Hua Cheng said awkwardly. "We'd been friends and basically roommates for three years. He was like a brother to me. But I didn't want to hurt him, so I tried to soften the blow by telling him that we couldn't be together because I already had feelings for someone else." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Ming Yi took the rejection in stride, though, and while we were playing, he kept ribbing me."

Wuming gave him a hard stare.

"What?" His wide dark eyes were the picture of innocence, but his tone didn't quite match. "I just want to know about the guy you rejected me for. Is he cute?”

Wuming was silent for a moment, thinking back to the ten days they spent shut up inside that room together. "He's beautiful."

Not that he'd seen his face.

Not all of it, anyway.

But even with the mask in the way, Wuming could tell.

"Have you kissed?"

When Wuming didn't respond right away, Ming Yi huffed, "Please do not tell me you rejected me for some guy you haven't even kissed yet."

Wuming hesitated, not wanting to answer, but knew Ming Yi would hound him to the ends of the earth if he didn't.

"Yeah, we've kissed."

If you could call it that.

"And?"

Wuming blinked. "And what?"

Ming Yi rolled his eyes. "Who's the better kisser?"

"It was harmless. Just a bit of fun," Hua Cheng explained, a quaver entering his voice. "That part of the conversation probably lasted two minutes, and then we moved on. But what I didn't know was that we'd been overheard."

Ming Yi gazed at him with a sort of breathless admiration.

"There you go helping me out again," he sighed. "Dang, your special someone really lucked out, dage. I hope they know how good they have it, 'cause if they ever hurt your feelings, I'll—"

But whatever his best friend was going to say, he would never know because there was a sudden, horrendous bang, and Wuming felt something hot and wet splatter all over his face as Ming Yi toppled forward onto the table.

Chess pieces scattered everywhere amidst a violent splash of bright red blood and bits of things Wuming's brain refused to put a name to.

"Ming Yi?" Bolting to his feet, Wuming knocked the chair over in his haste as he reached across the table to grab the other boy by the shoulders, shaking him. "Ming Yi? Ming Yi?!?"

"Nan Shen killed him. He killed him, gege." An angry hysteria washed over Hua Cheng. "Shot him in the head. Right in front of me. His brains were all over the table, and there was blood and skin and little pieces of his skull everywhere."

"What did you do? What did you do? What THE FUCK did you do?!?!?!" he roared, staring at Nan Shen as the tears running from his eye slid down the slope of his cheek and dripped off his chin, mixing with Ming Yi's rapidly cooling blood.

"And it was my fault."

"San Lang . . ." Xie Lian began.

"It was my fault," Hua Cheng snapped, his tone sharper than he meant it to be. "After I met my crush, I started making excuses to try and distance myself from Nan Shen. One day, I'd say I had a stomachache. The next, I'd stay out all night partying or running all over downtown with Ming Yi. So, when Nan Shen overheard us talking about kissing, he thought we were having an affair and became incensed." Tears of anguish burned behind his eye, making his vision blur. "I knew Nan Shen's feelings"—he spat through clenched teeth —"for me were strong, but I never thought he'd become so fucking crazed by his affection that he would actually kill my friend."

"How many times do I have to tell you, xingan," he replied in a cool, clipped voice, uncaring of the life he had just taken and unmoved by Wuming's rage and grief. "You belong to me."

"It wasn't until that moment that everything finally clicked. Nan Shen didn't see me as a person. He was taken with me because of our similarities and fascinated by my potential. The more time we spent together, the more he became obsessed with polishing me into the perfect vessel."

"You were nothing when I found you. A block of raw jade, jagged and unpolished. I sculpted you. I refined you."

"He tapped me to be his successor, but what he really wanted was a slave," Hua Cheng said, his hands curling into shaking fists. "Someone under his control, who would carry out his orders without question and who he could fuck whenever he wanted without consequence." The words were ugly, but so was the situation. "I hate that it took Ming Yi dying for me to see who Nan Shen really was. I hate it," he raged, closing his eye. "Ming Yi deserved so much better."

"That boy was not your friend. He was an impediment, a stone around your neck. You know as well as I do that if I hadn't put him out of his misery, someone else would have sooner rather than later because that was his destiny—to die. But you, xingan? You were meant for greater things. You're exceptional."

So exceptional that Nan Shen dragged him up to his office immediately afterward to try and rape him again—violently, this time—with Ming Yi's blood all over them both in order to cement his ownership of Hua Cheng and stamp out the memory of the boy he erroneously deemed to be his rival.

"Thankfully, I was able to escape, and that night, I swore to myself that I was going to get revenge."

Hua Cheng opened his eye, his expression turning vicious as he turned to look at Xie Lian, who sat next to him with his lips slightly parted and who held his gaze without flinching.

"But I didn't want to just kill him, gege. I wanted to wipe him off the map entirely, and something like that takes time and money—neither of which I possessed at the time. So, I had to start from zero and work my way up. It took two years before I could accumulate enough money, firepower, and influence to stake out my own territory and be recognized by the heads of the other major gangs. But I didn't do it alone. Xiao-Yu, the Zhu brothers, Xiao-Ying, Black Water, and a slew of other people helped me get there." He flashed a crooked smile. "Even those rotten little shits Ban Yue and Pei Xiu played their part, though they didn't come along until later."

Blinking slowly, Xie Lian took his time digesting everything he just heard, then asked a single question.

"Who is Black Water?"

Ah, shit, Hua Cheng thought.

"Black Water is—" he started, then stopped. Hearing this information could potentially put Xie Lian in a precarious position with Shi Qingxuan, who had no idea who He Xuan really was. "Black Water is . . . Ming Yi's brother."

Xie Lian's eyes grew round. "Ming Yi had a brother?"

"Mmm." Hua Cheng nodded, sending up a silent mea culpa. "He lived abroad for a while, but when he moved back, he found out what happened to Ming Yi, and we decided to work together to take Nan Shen out." He sighed. "Look, gege, I don't know how to tell you this, but Black Water—"

"Is Ming Yi's twin, and his real name is He Xuan?" Xie Lian supplied, audibly connecting the dots. "The same He Xuan who is now officially dating my best friend as of yesterday?"

Hua Cheng made a face.

The 'officially dating' part was news to him, but the other stuff—

He frowned. "Gege, when did you—"

"Just now," Xie Lian replied. "When I was speaking to He Xuan the other night, he mentioned living abroad and having a twin brother who had passed away. The fact that you just told me that this Black Water character also lived abroad and had a deceased brother couldn't be a coincidence. Plus," he added frankly, "I don't know if you've seen Club Fu Gu, but it seems like the perfect place for someone calling himself 'Black Water.' That dance floor is something else."

"Pfft," Hua Cheng laughed, slightly dazzled. It wasn't that he forgot about how sharp Xie Lian was these last three months, but seeing him in action always felt like a revelation for some reason. "Gege's so clever."

Xie Lian opened his mouth, then hesitated, biting his lip.

Noticing immediately, Hua Cheng asked, "What's wrong?"

"Well, in the spirit of truth, I feel like I should tell San Lang that . . . I already knew about Ban Yue and Pei Xiu."

Hua Cheng's eye narrowed. "Define 'already.'"

"Yin Yu told me yesterday morning."

"So you knew—"

"Before we played our little game?" Xie Lian finished, sounding uncharacteristically sly and smug.

"Gege!" Hua Cheng accused, both astonished and amused. "I can't believe you played me!"

"Don't you even try to turn this around on me, San Lang." Xie Lian pointed at him, laughter dancing in his eyes. "You played me first. And I seem to recall someone telling me that turnabout is fair play."

Hua Cheng tried to pull a stern face, but he couldn't keep it together because one, he deserved—and thoroughly enjoyed—his "punishment," and two, Xie Lian was just too goddamn cute, and so he burst into laughter. Which made Xie Lian laugh, and the sound of their mutual hilarity filled the room, momentarily dispelling the shadows of the past.

Gradually, the  two of them lapsed into silence, and after a time, Hua Cheng said, "Aren't you going to ask me?"

Xie Lian tilted his head, confused. "Ask you—?"

"What a mafia boss was doing working as an escort."

#

Xie Lian stared at him. "Do you want me to ask you? I'd be lying if I said the thought never crossed my mind over the last twenty-four hours, but we don't have to talk about it right this second, San Lang. You can tell me when you're ready."

A half-formed smile tugged at the corner of Hua Cheng's lips.

It wasn't that he was looking forward to explaining this particular part of his history, but Xie Lian's gentle nature, his lack of entitlement, and his willingness to hold space for him made everything easier.

"I'm ready now," Hua Cheng said.

"Okay." Gazing at him intently, Xie Lian leaned back against the cushions. "Why were you working as an escort, San Lang?"

Hua Cheng took another deep breath.

"Even though I had gotten away from Nan Shen," he began, "and even though everything that I had ever wanted was within my grasp—I had the money and the status and the power to do whatever I wanted—I still felt like I was in prison. I kept hearing his voice in my head."

"You were nothing when I found you."

"I sculpted you. I refined you. If anyone is going to choke the life out of you, it's going to be me. No one else deserves the privilege."

"You're mine."

"I couldn't sleep, and whenever I did manage to sleep, I had horrible nightmares like the one I had tonight. Most of the time they were about him, but sometimes I'd dream about Ming Yi, too."

"Dang, dage," he gurgled, his sunken, milky-white eyes gazing placidly into Wuming's soul as foul, reddish-brown fluid oozed from the corners of his dried, cracked lips. "Your special someone really lucked out."

The cloying, sickly-sweet scent of rot rose in Hua Cheng's nose, and he closed his eye, breathing slowly through his mouth while simultaneously willing his heart to be still.

"When things got really bad, I'd go out to a bar. Not to get drunk," he clarified, though he had tried and failed to drown his sorrows many times. "Just to sit and be around people. One night, a man approached me. At first, I thought he was just there to hit on me, but . . ."

Dipping two fingers into the inside pocket of his jacket, Pei Ming withdrew a business card and slid it across the table. "As the saying goes, if money can't bring you happiness, at least you can be miserable in comfort."

"He offered you a job?" Xie Lian asked. "At The Array?"

"Gege has such godly premonitions." Hua Cheng's mouth curled in a smile. "Since you've figured out that much, can you guess who the man was? I'll give you a hint: you've already met him."

"I wouldn't have any—wait." Xie Lian paused, his gaze turning inward as he considered the question carefully. After a few moments, he raised his eyes. "Pei Ming?"

"That's right," Hua Cheng praised. "You're amazing, gege." Xie Lian shot him a look that said, Stop teasing me, you insincere brat, and he laughed. "Pei Ming is the owner."

"He's the owner?" At Hua Cheng's nod, he remarked, "Qingxuan never mentioned that."

"It's possible he doesn't know," Hua Cheng said. "And like you, he probably doesn't know that Pei Ming is also connected to one of the major gangs in Xianle City."

"He's—?"

"Yeah." Hua Cheng nodded again. "I'll explain more later, but his background is part of the reason why he knows how to fly under the radar when he needs to."

"Did you know who he was then?" Xie Lian said curiously.

"Not at first, no," he replied, shaking his head. "He's thirty-eight—not old, just a little before my time. Something about him seemed familiar, though, so I did some digging and eventually figured it out. But that wasn't until later. Pei Ming, on the other hand, knew exactly who I was."

"And that didn't stop him from trying to recruit My Lord the Ghost King?" Xie Lian inquired, vaguely amused.

"I think that made him want to do it even more. The man has absolutely no shame. Then again," Hua Cheng reconsidered, "who am I to talk? Plus, his gamble ultimately paid off—I took the job."

"Why did you take it?"

"I was tired, gege." Hua Cheng sighed. "Tired of being controlled by the mere memory of Nan Shen, and—I know this sounds stupid, but I thought that escorting could help me reclaim myself somehow. In The Array, I set the rules and the boundaries, and I got to decide what clients I took. And if I came across someone I didn't like, all I had to do was walk away."

"That doesn't sound stupid at all, San Lang." Xie Lian's response was earnest, his smile small but sincere. "It makes sense that a set-up like that would make you feel safe."

"It was stupid, though, because it didn't make things better. If anything, it made all worse because I—"

Hua Cheng clamped his mouth shut, unsure how to navigate this part of the conversation. Xie Lian didn't want to hear about him having sex with other men.

He felt a light touch on his cheek, and he glanced over to see that Xie Lian had turned, angling his body toward him with his legs curled up underneath him.

"It's alright, San Lang," he said. "You can tell me."

"I felt—nothing," Hua Cheng said haltingly, the words seeming to stick in his mouth. "I was able to . . . get aroused on my own, but the encounters I had with clients weren't arousing. I wasn't attracted to any of them. I didn't derive any pleasure from it. I didn't orgasm. I was just . . . numb." He blew out a breath. "I knew I should have seen a doctor or a therapist—or both—but instead, I just resigned myself to it. I figured I was damaged goods and that was that. But then I met you and everything changed, gege. I could tell you were different right away—kind, considerate. And the fact that you weren't even trying to procure my services for your own pleasure, but so you could be a better partner to someone else in the future, blew my mind. I really wasn't expecting that."

Xie Lian's touch felt like a ray of sunlight, a silent benediction, and he smiled, leaning into it.

"The more time we spent together, the more I got to know you and the more I came to understand . . ."

"Understand what?"

"Everything," Hua Cheng said, with a quiet sigh, his dark eye blazing with affection. "Everything. Your courage, your despair. Your kindness, your pain. Your resentment, your hate. Your wisdom, your foolishness. Everything, all of it. And I knew that I would do anything to protect you. That's why . . ." His face fell. " . . . the second I heard him speak to you that night at the restaurant, I knew I had to leave."

A line appeared between Xie Lian's brows. "The second you heard who speak to me?"

Hua Cheng turned away, the heat of Xie Lian's palm lingering on his cheek. "Nan Shen."

"Nan Shen?" Xie Lian's voice was mystified. "But I don't know—"

"No, you don't know him, gege. But he knows you."

"Xianle," drawled a deep voice. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend?"

Xie Lian's brow lowered, his gaze searching Hua Cheng's face. "I . . ." Suddenly, everything fell into place. "Jun Wu?" When Hua Cheng didn't respond right away, he said, "It's him, isn't it?"

Hua Cheng's confirmation was grim. "It's him."

"That's why you told me to run away if I ever saw him again," Xie Lian murmured, more to himself than Hua Cheng. "He's the one who did this to you? He killed Ming Yi, and now—"

"And now he knows who you are, and what's worse—he saw you with me."

You're mine, an insidious voice whispered.

Hua Cheng gritted his teeth.

"If Jun Wu was willing to kill Ming Yi because he thought we were having an affair, what do you think he would do to you if he discovered we were in a relationship?" he asked, and by the look on Xie Lian's face, Hua Cheng could tell that he hadn't even considered the danger to himself. "I couldn't—I wouldn't—let what happened to Ming Yi happen to you. So, I lied. I told him that we were just having sex, but I couldn't be certain that he believed me, so I broke things off with you, then stayed far away. But I wasn't about to leave you without any sort of protection in case he tried anything."

"So, you had Ban Yue and Pei Xiu keep an eye on me."

"There were others too, but yeah," he admitted. Hua Cheng knew he had no right to ask for forgiveness, but he couldn't suppress the note of raw desperation in his voice. "I know it wasn't fair, and I know it was a violation of your trust, gege, but it was the only thing I knew how to do. The only way I could keep you safe."

"San Lang—"

"Listen to me, gege," he said, cutting him off with a direct stare. "I don't want to scare you, but I meant it when I said I've done terrible things, and if anybody tries to hurt you, I will kill them." His voice turned cold and hard. "I don't mean that figuratively, and it's not an exaggeration. I will kill them. I've done it before. Many times. I've killed to survive. I've killed to protect the people I care about. I've killed out of malice. I've killed strangers. I've killed people I thought were friends . . ."

Even though Hua Cheng was well aware of the things he had done, the weight of it suddenly crashed down on him as he was speaking to Xie Lian, and he was horrified.

"At this point, I don't even know how many people I've killed, but I do know that it's not going to stop. As long as people keep coming at me, as long as people keep trying to take or hurt the people I love, I'll keep killing," he confessed in a breathless rush. "I won't think. I won't even hesitate because that's who Jun Wu trained me to be, and I can't blame him because I wanted it. I wanted to be stronger than anyone, and now my body reacts to threats automatically, like a machine. And just like a machine, I feel nothing. Not when I pull the trigger. Not when I see them fall. Nothing." Hua Cheng stared down at his hands, and for a moment, all he saw was blood staining his palms. "I don't feel anything at all."

"San Lang." Xie Lian stirred beside him. "San Lang—"

"I'm scared of myself, gege," he rambled, too numb to even cry, "and you should be, too."

"No, that's never going to happen," Xie Lian gently rebuffed him, sliding across the cushions until their knees were touching. "Look at me, San Lang." It wasn't a demand, more of an entreaty—one that Hua Cheng was powerless to refuse. "You don't scare me," he said, gazing deeply into his eye. "No part of you scares me. And I don't believe you when you say you feel nothing. You've been hurt. You've been hurt very badly, and I know that despite everything, you do feel it."

Xie Lian rested one hand on Hua Cheng's shoulder, the other on the curve of his elbow. His touch was tentative and exerted almost no pressure, as if he were afraid of putting too much weight on him.

"And I'm not saying the things you've done don't matter because they do," he went on. "But I also know that I haven't walked in your shoes. I haven't been through what you've been through, and I've never been forced to make the impossible choices that you've had to make. So, how could I presume to judge?" Xie Lian let out a little noise of distress. "And maybe . . . maybe not a single word of what I'm saying right now helps, but if nothing else, I want you to remember one thing."

"What?"

"No matter what happens," he promised, "I will always, always be on your side, and I will never leave you."

Hua Cheng was stunned.

After everything, he hadn't expected this in the least, and it took him a good long while before he was capable of responding.

He sniffled, the corners of his lips turning up in a lopsided grin. "Does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?"

"No, I'm not mad at you anymore." Xie Lian smiled and gave Hua Cheng's shoulder a squeeze. "You're stuck with me. Forever."

"But you don't know everything yet, gege," Hua Cheng protested. "You haven't seen—"

"I don't care," Xie Lian cut him off succinctly. "I said forever, and I meant it. As long as you'll have me," he added.

"I love you," Hua Cheng suddenly blurted, the strings of his heart that had been wound so tight suddenly burst open, and an intense rush of love washed over him. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I never said it before. I think it all the time."

"You didn't have to say it. I've always known how much you love me."

"Oh?" Hua Cheng laughed. "Has gege suddenly turned psychic?"

"I don't need to be," Xie Lian replied, his eyes tracing every detail of Hua Cheng's face with a warm regard. "It's just—evident. I can feel it. I can see it. I can see it in the way you look at me. In the way you'd let me blather on, listening to the same stories over and over with a smile on your face as though it was your very first time hearing them. The way you encouraged me to do what I was afraid of, but never pushed." He paused. "Earlier, you said that your first crush saw you at your worst, and I understand what that feels like because when you came along, I was literally at the lowest place I'd ever been."

"Gege—"

"No, it's true." Xie Lian silenced him with a shake of the head. "I was trying, but I really didn't think there was anyone out there who could love me, given how deep down in the dirt I really was. But you saw me rolling in it, and you loved me anyway. That's why . . ." He let out a soft huff. "That's why I was so mad. Because I knew that you loved me, and I couldn't understand how you could just walk away. But now I know. And even though I may not know my way around a gun, I won't let anyone hurt you like that ever again. So, promise me," he pleaded urgently. "Promise you won't leave. Promise you'll stay by my side."

For the second time in as many minutes, Hua Cheng was taken aback.

A maelstrom of emotion swirled inside him, and he couldn't speak. He could only stare at this man to whom he had just exposed the absolute worst parts of himself and who was still willing to embrace him nonetheless—even after how much Hua Cheng had hurt him.

That kind of pure, unconditional love was devastating, and even as it made him whole, it cut his heart like a knife, and Hua Cheng could not stop the flood of tears rolling down his cheeks.

Overcome, he bent over and lowered his head into Xie Lian's lap with a quiet sob. Warm arms instantly closed around him, enveloping him with his subtle, sweet scent.

Hua Cheng had no right and no intention of ever asking for forever, but forever was what Xie Lian had offered, and this time, he was taking it.

"Forever," he promised.

And for a time, the only sound that could be heard in the room was Hua Cheng's muffled weeping.

Twelve years worth of tears, long overdue.

#

Feeling tired and wrung out, but curiously lighter, Hua Cheng lumbered into his bathroom, the motion-activated lights switching on as he moved toward the vanity.

Sighing, he leaned over the sink and stared at himself for a moment, then rubbed at the corners of his eyes.

The lids were swollen and more than a little red, making him look even more—

Hua Cheng froze.

His eyes—as in plural—stared back at him in the mirror, and he was hit with a terrible realization.

My eyepatch . . .

It must have snapped or just fallen off with all his thrashing around earlier, which meant that Xie Lian had seen . . .

Horrified, Hua Cheng clapped a hand over his right eye and rushed out of the bathroom without really knowing exactly what he meant to do.

Apologize? Yes, he should apologize for letting Xie Lian see something so—

Hearing him crash out of the bathroom, Xie Lian, who was standing beside the bed, removing some of the extra pillows, turned in his direction.

"San Lang?" Seeing him looking so distressed, Xie Lian immediately became alarmed and hurried over to Hua Cheng. "Are you okay?"

"Gege, I—" His heart palpitated in his chest, making it hard to talk.

"What?" Xie Lian inquired urgently, his eyes searching Hua Cheng's face. "What's wrong? Do you have a headache?"

"No, it's—I—I'm sorry," Hua Cheng stammered. "I didn't mean for you to see . . ."

Xie Lian blinked. "See what?"

" . . . My eye."

"Is there a reason why I shouldn't see it?" Xie Lian asked, puzzled.

Hua Cheng's voice was small, very small, and very quiet. "It's ugly."

He had his prosthetic in, thank god, so it wasn't like the socket was a grisly, empty hole.

In fact, during the surgery to remove his eye, a small implant had been placed to maintain the socket's shape and orbital volume in addition to preventing the numerous complications of Post-Enucleation Socket Syndrome.

After that, a conformer—a blank, temporary, plastic prosthetic—was inserted, and his eye was sutured shut.

Three weeks later, when the sutures dissolved, he was ordered to keep wearing the conformer for about six months because the initial surgery was complicated due to the surrounding tissues in the socket being damaged.

Once that period was over, he should have been fitted for a proper prosthetic, but since not a single one of his foster parents gave a shit, Hua Cheng never received one—and it wasn't like he had access to an ocularist while living on the streets.

Things changed once he entered Jun Wu's household, though.

The man immediately arranged for a small army of the best doctors in Xianle City to treat him, and the oculoplastic surgeon was astounded that, aside from some mild irritation and cloudy discharge, Hua Cheng had very little contraction in the socket after going two years without treatment.

It turned out that routinely starving stunted his growth, preventing the rapid facial and ocular changes kids typically underwent as they aged—the one and only time being homeless actually worked in his favor.

After a little rehabilitation and several implant exchanges over the years, Hua Cheng's eye socket remained healthy, and the prosthetics created for him looked almost natural.

But it wasn't pretty.

A nasty, jagged scar nearly bisected the eyelid, and though it had grown fainter over the years, it was still very noticeable.

Hua Cheng didn't care if his enemies saw it—he wanted them to see it and be unnerved by it—but he never wanted Xie Lian to see something so . . . so—

"Ugly?" Xie Lian exclaimed, his face going completely blank. "What do you mean, ugly? San Lang, how can you say something like that? When was the last time you looked in a mirror?"

"Just now," he answered stupidly.

"Then how is it that you didn't see what I see?" Xie Lian huffed, laying a hand on Hua Cheng's chest. "San Lang, you're beautiful. Every time I look at you, you take my breath away."

"Gege, you don't have to be nice," Hua Cheng replied, his mouth a grim line. "I know it's not an easy thing to look past—"

"Who's looking past?" Xie Lian cut him off. "San Lang, I really don't know what you're talking about."

"But my eye—the scar—" he mumbled, not understanding how Xie Lian didn't know. "Gege, you must have seen it earlier."

"I really didn't. The only thing I saw was you, San Lang."

Speechless, Hua Cheng stared at Xie Lian, who took a step back from him and started wringing his hands.

"Did I say or do something to make you feel like you need to cover up like this?" he asked, lip quivering.

"Gege, no," Hua Cheng insisted, immediately feeling like shit.

"Then, please don't," Xie Lian said. His gaze was open, and his words were frank, spoken from the heart. "I don't want you to ever feel like you need to be on guard with me or put on airs. I love looking at you. I love it when your hair is messy and wild like it is now. I love the way your canine teeth poke out when you smile. I love the way your face softens when you sleep." He paused. "I love all of these things because they're the real you, and that's the man I fell in love with. Not some perfect illusion."

And just like that, Hua Cheng's fear melted away, the last of his walls breaking down—not by force, but gentle persistence.

He dropped his hand, and Xie Lian reached up, smoothing a thick lock of black hair away from Hua Cheng's right eye.

Xie Lian smiled, and once again, Hua Cheng couldn't help but think that this man really was going to be the death of him.

"Beautiful," he said, standing up on tiptoe to press a kiss against that jagged scar, his lips as soft as flower petals. "Now, come to bed, San Lang."

#

The following afternoon, as Hua Cheng and Yin Yu prepared brunch, a pajama-clad Xie Lian made the bed, taking his time to smooth the duvet and put the pillows back into place.

He hadn't let on, but part of him was still reeling from everything Hua Cheng had revealed to him yesterday.

Jun Wu . . .

Xie Lian never imagined that one of Xianle City's most famous businessmen, who generously donated money to dozens of philanthropic endeavors—including the theatre department at Xianle University where they first met—was the head of a mafia syndicate.

But more than that, Jun Wu was a lying, manipulative bastard who abused Hua Cheng regularly from the time he turned fifteen until he finally managed to escape from him at eighteen.

But the word "escape" was relative here.

While Hua Cheng physically escaped, he was clearly still haunted by his memories and was so traumatized by what happened to Ming Yi that he immediately broke up with Xie Lian after Jun Wu saw them together that night, rather than risk bringing him harm.

Which spoke to a larger issue: Jun Wu did not seem content to let Hua Cheng go, and in a way, Hua Cheng could not let him go, either. The two of them were bound together by years of obsession, hatred, and vengeance.

Where would it end?

Xie Lian didn't know, but historically speaking, these things did not end well, and the part of him that believed in the innate goodness of people and wanted to help them whenever he could, instinctively balked at the thought of bloodshed.

At the same time, he didn't think he had the right to even comment on it because Hua Cheng had suffered a kind of pain that Xie Lian, even with the sexual assault lingering in his own background, knew very little about.

And Xie Lian would be lying if he said he wasn't angry.

To see a man like Hua Cheng break down, shaking and crying in his arms as though his heart was drowning in pain and despair beyond measure, tore at Xie Lian's heart and heated his blood until he was choking on his own rage.

He didn't know what the right course of action was, but he did know one thing.

Xie Lian would protect the man he loved no matter what.

He would never let Jun Wu—or anyone else, for that matter—dig his claws into Hua Cheng ever again.

Ever.

Thus resolved, Xie Lian finished his task and was about to go through the big box of clothes that Hua Cheng had kindly purchased for him (with instructions that he should only keep what he liked, and they would donate the rest)—when he tripped on something sticking out from underneath the bed.

Catching himself on the mattress, Xie Lian saw what looked like a tangled piece of black clothing and bent down to retrieve it, only to realize that they were his own pants.

Well, they were technically Shi Qingxuan's pants that he borrowed for his Halloween costume, so he felt a little bad for leaving them on the floor like that.

But Xie Lian felt even worse when he heard the metallic jingling coming from one of the pockets.

Oh, my god—the necklace! he cried, frantically rummaging for the longevity lock.

With how eventful the last few days had been, Xie Lian, to his great shame, had completely forgotten about the necklace, and about the poor, desperate woman in the mask who had given it to him.

"Crimson Rain Sought Flower," she repeated, crushing his hand closed around the object with shocking strength. "Ghost City. Please."

Thankfully, the longevity lock hadn't been damaged after Xie Lian had so carelessly discarded it on the floor.

He could only hope that he still had time to find this Crimson Rain Sought Flower, and he knew exactly who to ask for help.

#

After eagerly consuming a decadent serving of sai do si with American-style bacon (so crispy and salty—he could really get used to this Sunday brunch thing!) Xie Lian took a nice, big drink of his Hong Kong-style milk tea and stared across the island at Hua Cheng, who stood beside Yin Yu, finishing off his own meal.

He bit his lip.

"San Lang," he eventually said as the other man set down his chopsticks. "Have you ever heard of someone named Crimson Rain Sought Flower?"

Hua Cheng's eyes—he had opted not to wear the eyepatch this afternoon—glanced up at Xie Lian in surprise, and Yin Yu, who was rinsing off a cutting board in the prep sink, suddenly stopped what he was doing.

"I have," his boyfriend answered after a moment. "Why do you ask?"

"Could you tell me where to find them?"

"Hmm." Hua Cheng and Yin Yu quickly exchanged glances before he returned his gaze to Xie Lian. "Can I ask why gege wishes to meet with Crimson Rain Sought Flower?"

"It's—it's a secret," Xie Lian said, and when Hua Cheng arched a brow, he rushed to elaborate further. "It's nothing bad!" At least, he hoped it wasn't, but Xie Lian really had no way of knowing, and since he had no way of knowing, it was better not to say anything about the necklace lest he bring his boyfriend trouble. "I just need to talk to them. It's important."

"I see." Hua Cheng drummed his fingers on the island. "Of course, I can tell you where to find him, gege, it's just . . ." He made a discomfited noise in the back of his throat and trailed off.

"What?"

Hua Cheng sighed heavily. "Gege, Crimson Rain Sought Flower is very bad."

The cutting board slipped from Yin Yu's fingers and hit the bottom of the sink with a clatter.

"Apologies," he murmured, compressing his lips tightly as he picked it back up.

"He's bad? Why is he bad?" Xie Lian inquired, shifting his attention back to Hua Cheng.

"Well," he began, his expression grave, "the guy's a bit of a madman. You remember me telling you that there are some people even I have to watch my step around?" Xie Lian nodded. "He's one of them."

So, he's a gangster, too, then, Xie Lian surmised.

The woman in the mask didn't seem like the type who would associate with a dangerous madman.

But then again, Xie Lian thought Jun Wu was a nice guy, so clearly his radar was off.

"Also, it's not easy to see him these days," Hua Cheng added, rousing Xie Lian from his thoughts.

"How come?"

"Word on the street is that Crimson Rain Sought Flower received an unexpected visit from his beloved wife recently. They'd been separated for a while—relationship troubles. His fault, of course." Hua Cheng smiled a little. “Luckily, a few of his close friends were able to convince him that he was being an idiot, so he's been spending every day with his wife, trying to make amends. He has no time for anything else."

"I see," Xie Lian sighed, deflated. "Is there really no way, then?"

"There's always a way, gege," Hua Cheng assured him, his smile turning indulgent. "I'll have Xiao-Yu get in touch with his people. See if we can set something up."

"Today?" Xie Lian piped up hopefully, and when Hua Cheng quirked his brow, he said, "Really, I don't need long. Just five minutes of his time, that's all."

"Mmm," Hua Cheng hummed, turning to the man on his left. "What do you think, Xiao-Yu?"

"I . . ." Yin Yu set the cutting board aside. There was a strange look on his face. Maybe he disapproved of Hua Cheng’s decision to let him meet with Crimson Rain Sought Flower and was trying not to show it?

He cleared his throat.

"I'll do my best," he promised.

"Thank you," Xie Lian gushed, profound relief running through him as his eyes bounced between the two. "Thank you both."

“It's nothing, gege," Hua Cheng replied, his left eye shimmering. "Why don't you go get dressed? With any luck, Xiao-Yu might be able to arrange something within the hour."

#

A short while later, there was a knock on the bedroom door, and Xie Lian opened it to see Yin Yu standing on the other side.

He informed Xie Lian that Hua Cheng had unfortunately been called away to deal with "some business," but, as luck would have it, Crimson Rain Sought Flower had agreed to meet with him.

"Dage decided that the Gambler's Den would be the most secure meeting place, so I will be taking you there in his stead."

Knowing what little he knew about Crimson Rain Sought Flower, Xie Lian was glad the meeting was on Hua Cheng's home turf, even if he was unable to be there.

Twenty minutes later, they were on their way, with Yin Yu chauffeuring Xie Lian in his black Xiaomi SU7 Max.

As Xie Lian watched the daytime scenery of downtown Xianle City go by, he wondered exactly what sort of "business" Hua Cheng had to attend to, and whether or not it was the dangerous variety.

I hope he's okay, Xie Lian thought as the landscape around the car changed, commanding his attention.

It turned out that entry into Ghost City by car was just as raw and chaotic of an experience as it was by foot.

As they passed under a painted arch that signified the beginning of Fēng Yè Jiē—Maple Leaf Street—Xie Lian noticed that while the businesses were crammed close together, the signage was rather sparse, and what little there was was broken, discolored, or cheap-looking.

Loud music blared from multiple venues all at once, and a mixed crowd of people packed sidewalks riddled with cracks and stained with cooking oil from wandering street vendors.

Some looked like jaded locals, walking to their destinations with purpose or lingering outside rundown pubs and noodle shops while smoking cigarettes or puffing on  vapes.

Others seemed to be inquisitive outsiders looking for a thrill, poking their noses into pawnshops and unlicensed liquor stores—the former selling illicit merchandise out of their back rooms, the latter stocking spirits far stronger than anything one might find at a supermarket, according to Yin Yu.

At the midpoint, the street narrowed a little, the uneven concrete beginning to smooth, and the overall chaos started to resolve into something . . . more.

The bars, shops, and restaurants were larger and better maintained; the signs and neon lights became denser, and the color palette slowly coalesced into the one that Xie Lian was familiar with.

Soon, the curved roofline of the Gambler's Den came into view, and with it a change in atmosphere.

The businesses, more glamorous on this end of the street, were bigger and spaced farther apart, their exteriors rich and colorful.

The noise level dropped, the air was less smoky and more sweet, and the neon ceiling was brighter than ever, pulsing and flickering over prospective customers as they flitted from crowded nightclubs to karaoke lounges to more traditional casinos to try their hand at baccarat or blackjack.

The Gambler's Den, however, was entirely dark, much to Xie Lian's surprise.

"Are you not open today?" Xie Lian asked as Yin Yu pulled up in front, then cut the engine.

"No," he answered. "While Ghost City never sleeps, dage prefers to give his employees at least one day to rest."

Xie Lian felt a little relieved upon hearing that he hadn't caused the place to close down for the day due to his request.

He started to reach for the door handle, but before Xie Lian could move, Yin Yu was already out of the car and moving to the passenger side to open his door.

It was a bit much, being given the VIP treatment—really, he wasn't anyone special—but Yin Yu insisted it was part of his job, so Xie Lian let it go.

A cool wind stirred the ends of his hair.

Now that Lìdōng was approaching, the temperature had dropped to forty-eight—not exactly freezing, but after the unseasonably warm weather the other night, it was a little cold.

Xie Lian was glad for the vintage-style sweater with a shawl collar that he'd found in the box of clothes Hua Cheng had given him. Paired with the jeans, which featured a light wash and a classic hem, he felt comfortable despite the chill.

Together, Xie Lian and Yin Yu climbed the stairs, and even dark, the Gambler's Den still loomed large, its dark ebony frame and crimson exterior dominating everything around it.

Once they reached the tall, double doors, Yin Yu opened the one on the left but made no move to step inside.

"This is where I leave you," he said with a smooth gesture toward the door. "Crimson Rain Sought Flower is already waiting for you inside. There are Waning Moon Officers stationed in front of the exits around the back, and I will keep watch over this entrance to ensure the two of you have complete privacy."

"Oh, um—th-thanks," Xie Lian faltered.

At first, he was a little dismayed at the thought of continuing on alone, but after taking a moment to reconsider, he had been instructed to give the necklace to Crimson Rain Sought Flower and no one else.

It was better this way.

But even so, as Xie Lian stepped inside and the door closed behind him, he felt a creeping trepidation at the sight of the building's darkened interior.

There was only a single security light on over the podium near the entrance, and as Xie Lian proceeded down the hall, guided by a line of dimly lit, recessed LEDs toward the bar, his uneasiness only grew.

The backlit shelves were off, there were only two security lights on either end of the bar, and the silvery surface of the etched mirror kept distorting the minimal light, creating ghostly reflections that made Xie Lian jump.

The profiles of the clusters of cocktail tables with their high-backed chairs were warped, the sconces created weird, shadowy shapes on the walls, and the silhouette of the darkened chandelier with its rainfall-style arms towered over him like some kind of tentacled beast.

Xie Lian swallowed, his footsteps echoing dully through the gallery as he approached the long table.

The red felt looked almost black in the low light, like a bottomless pool, and, ahead, the glass of the moon gate atop the platform was semi-opaque, a muted, reddish-gold glow emanating from inside.

It looked eerie.

Xie Lian had about two seconds to reconsider the wisdom of meeting with a complete stranger—and a mad one at that—all alone in the dark, when he heard a strange noise coming from behind him.

It sounded like a . . . soft tinkling, almost music-like, and when Xie Lian turned, he saw a tall, shadowy figure approaching him.

The figure walked with utter nonchalance, as though he owned the space and could find his way through it without trouble, even in the dark.

And as he moved closer and closer, the sound of that silvery tinkling grew louder and louder.

The man stopped at the border where the gallery ended, and the area surrounding the long table began.

His face and his body were entirely in shadow, and although he said nothing, Xie Lian could feel the man's gaze on him.

"Are—are you Crimson Rain Sought Flower?" he asked in a tremulous voice.

The man let out a soft huff, as if to say, Duh.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice." Xie Lian's mouth suddenly felt very dry. "My name is Xie Lian, and I have something—well, I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I was entrusted with something—and I was instructed to only give it to you."

Crimson Rain Sought Flower stared at him for a moment, then stretched out a hand, and even though he still did not speak, the message was clear.

Give it here.

Xie Lian's heart was wobbling in his chest, but he tamped down his jitters in favor of getting this over with and shuffled forward while digging into the pocket of his jeans.

He pulled out the necklace and went to press it into Crimson Rain Sought Flower's waiting palm when the man suddenly grabbed his wrist.

Xie Lian let out a shocked cry as Crimson Rain Sought Flower pulled, jerking him forward until he smacked into the front of his body, which was big and hard and warm.

Almost immediately, Xie Lian tried to squirm his way out of Crimson Rain Sought Flower's hold, but the man wrapped an arm around his lower back, holding him in place, and said, "Although I'm happy gege is so forward, his eagerness to embrace a complete stranger is making me feel a little bit jealous."

Xie Lian's entire face went blank.

"S-San Lang?!?" he cried. "What are you doing here?!?"

Hua Cheng leaned down until their noses and mouths were nearly touching.

"Well, gege wanted to meet Crimson Rain Sought Flower." He smiled. "Now, you've met him."

"You—" Xie Lian stuttered. "You . . . shameless—perverted—little—jerk! You're Crimson Rain Sought Flower??"

"Mmhm," Hua Cheng purred, smug as ever.

"I can't believe you tricked me! Again!" Xie Lian snapped, completely outraged as he pushed Hua Cheng back a step. "What happened to 'Crimson Rain Sought Flower is very bad' and 'the guy's a madman'?"

Hua Cheng laughed. "You forgot about the part where Crimson Rain Sought Flower separated from his beloved wife, realized he was being a complete idiot, and has been devoting all his time to making amends. In fact . . ." He raised his right hand; there was a sharp click and all the lights in the Gambler's Den came to life all at once. " . . . he'd be more than happy to make amends to his beloved wife right on that table. Right now."

'Beloved wife'?!? I'm the wife? Has he been going around telling everyone that?

Flushing, Xie Lian stared at Hua Cheng, and even though he was mildly irked at being tricked yet again, his heart softened a little at the whole wife thing, and he had to admit, if only to himself, that he was sorely tempted to take the man up on his offer.

Hua Cheng wore a long, crimson overcoat made of silk-backed satin—wide at the shoulders, tapered at the waist—with a flared hem that stretched down to mid-calf.

Beneath, a fitted waistcoat with a V-shaped neckline and silver diamond-shaped buttons, clung to his muscular upper body.

It was the color of garnets, a deeper red than the coat, and was made of a silk brocade that featured a tone-on-tone butterfly motif that you would need to be standing very close to see.

The waistcoat presented a stark contrast against the jet-black, slim-cut collared shirt—open at the neck with three buttons undone, giving a tantalizing glimpse of Hua Cheng's tattoos—underneath it.

Around his neck, Hua Cheng wore a delicate silver chain with a big butterfly charm, and sported a ruby-red stud in his right ear, while a large hoop earring hung from his left.

There was a decorative piece inside the hoop earring that almost looked like a butterfly, only the wings were sharp and deadly with elongated red eyespots that looked like streaks of flame.

A long, tapered red droplet was attached to the bottom of the earring via two small jump rings, and it hung halfway down his neck, its end pointed like the tip of a dagger.

Hua Cheng's black eyepatch had tiny gold beads sparingly mounted along the outer edge of the string, and a red ribbon had been woven into a small braid that had been tied with a red bead in his half-up, half-down hair, with the shorter layers framing his cheek and jaw in the most becoming way.

His fingernails were painted black, and a piece of red thread tied into a ring with a bow knot that matched the one he had given Xie Lian during their match—and which Xie Lian was currently wearing on his left hand—graced the third finger of Hua Cheng's right hand.

A pair of black leather ankle boots with a slight heel, pointed toes, and luxurious silver chains draped from several eyelets completed the outfit.

He looked every inch the formidable Ghost King, and a mysterious aura surrounded him, making Hua Cheng seem alluring and wicked and very, very dangerous.

"In fact . . . he'd be more than happy to make amends to his beloved wife right on that table. Right now."

It took more willpower than Xie Lian would have liked to remember that he was supposed to be mad right now and not turned on.

He scowled.

"Nothing serious ever comes out of that mouth of yours, does it?" Crossing his arms, Xie Lian turned his back on Hua Cheng in order to stop himself from kissing that unserious mouth. "You've really crossed the line today, you know. Maybe I should go back to Puqi Village for a few days so you can reflect on your behavior, Crimson Rain Sought Flower."

"Gege," the Ghost King whined, wrapping his arms about Xie Lian from behind. "You can't be like this. I've been nothing but courteous—"

"Courteous?!?" Xie Lian spun around, cutting him off. "How were you courteous? You were clearly having a great time messing with me, and you even dragged poor Yin Yu into it!"

"Alright, gege, I screwed up," Hua Cheng admitted, clasping both hands behind his back as he tried and failed to look remorseful. "I am a shameless, perverted jerk, and if you're unhappy, you can yell at me again. Yell as much as you want. San Lang doesn't mind."

Exasperated but utterly charmed, Xie Lian sighed.

There really was no winning against this man.

Seeing Xie Lian give in, Hua Cheng's face lit up, and he folded his arms around him once more.

"So," he said, kissing the tip of Xie Lian's nose, then working his way down, "as much as I wanted to believe gege came to Ghost City just to see me the other night, it seems that I was wrong." He pressed his lips to the corner of Xie Lian's mouth, then pulled back a little. "What is it that you needed to give me?"

"This." Xie Lian grabbed Hua Cheng's left hand and passed the necklace from his own closed palm to his boyfriend's.

Stepping back, Hua Cheng looked momentarily confused as he turned the longevity lock over in his hand, examining the engraved dragon surrounded by maple leaves and butterflies.

A strange expression overtook his features, and after a few more seconds, he flicked his dark eye up to Xie Lian.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

There was an odd note in Hua Cheng's voice, and while that note contained so many things, foremost among them was curiosity and concern, and a bit of their conversation from last night came back to him.

"Listen to me, gege," he said, cutting him off with a direct stare. "I don't want to scare you, but I meant it when I said I've done terrible things, and if anybody tries to hurt you, I will kill them." His voice turned cold and hard. "I don't mean that figuratively, and it's not an exaggeration. I will kill them.”

Remembering this, Xie Lian suddenly wasn't sure how to tell the story of what happened to him on Halloween night. Not because he wanted to protect that monster in white, but because he wanted to protect Hua Cheng from having to dirty his hands.

"Gege?"

Xie Lian opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Seeing his hesitation, Hua Cheng frowned and studied his face with the kind of intense scrutiny that probably would have left most people shaking in their boots, then took a step forward, gently taking him by the arm.

"Gege,” he said. “I think you’d better explain yourself.”