Archive of Our Own

Tonight’s one of those nights again.           

Pale moonlight casts shadows onto the marble floors as Hua Cheng surveys the lavish ballroom below him with a glass of champagne in one hand. Nothing seems out of place; people are mingling as they should, powerful men and women discussing trade affairs and property acquisitions, and the drinks just keep coming, servers weaving in and out of the crowds while bearing trays. Hua Cheng should join them and make his presence known, but for now he holds back to observe the party.

This event is being held at the Ritz-Carlton that he owns, something the Blue Dragons’ syndicate wanted to own because of its proximity to the harbour and the commerce district. He closed the deal a little over a week ago, but already he’s looking to expand; on paper, his properties are hitting their revenue goals every financial quarter, but that just tells him he could also do better. He can’t sit idly by while his competitors are out there scrambling to outperform him. He fought, he bled, he negotiated to build the empire he now rules with an iron fist, and it’s true what they say about power: it’s a drug you can’t afford to ease off of.

In this world, lose it and you die.

Hua Cheng finishes his drink and sets the glass aside. It’s about time he made an appearance.

When he gets to the main floor, it’s almost as if a mild hush descends over the crowd. Heads turn and hands lift glasses in acknowledgement, but Hua Cheng just dips his chin in response. He knows how this evening will go: more propositions, more trade deals, more talk on the disruption of a few major supply routes.

Ever since an important Russian higher-up was found dead on Crimson Rain territory, people have been on edge. Dmitri Ivanov, heir to an aircraft manufacturing business, spent the weekend inhaling premium highballers with cheap hookers, only to meet his end at knifepoint come Monday morning.

There were burn marks on his back when he bled to death, and Hua Cheng has heard the rumours. Because Ivanov and his cartel associate who did inventory for Black Water had a falling out with one of Hua Cheng’s own men, it was heavily speculated that someone from the Blue Dragons orchestrated his murder, a statement that they’d quash any signs of weakness, take advantage of any cracks in alliances. It didn’t help that Ivanov had also made the mistake of crossing Kim Dae-sung, one of the Blue Dragons’ foreign affiliate in document forgery, according to the intel Hua Cheng’s lieutenants acquired.

Hua Cheng smoothens the lapels of his suit, then gives the ballroom a cool, sweeping glance. Past the glitz and glamour is a pit full of snakes, and he knows it better than anyone. He catalogues their faces as he goes, connects them to his mental database of titles and occupations.

Parties like this are always centred around one purpose: to strengthen existing connections and forge new ones. But for Hua Cheng, they also serve their purpose in facilitating the process of separating the wheat from the chaff. He’s always been able to smell weakness like a hound, to identify the clear-cut distinction between those with true power and those who pretend to be bigger than they are.

For some people, power fits them like a glove. For others, it hangs like ill-fitting clothes.

Across the ballroom, a group of laughing alphas lounge on velvet ottomans, feeling up the escorts provided by the Aphrodite agency. This reminds Hua Cheng: he has business tonight, and it won’t be pretty. He catches a glimpse of a Blue Dragon lieutenant on one of the hanging balconies. Hua Cheng has a strong hunch he’ll be right on the money on who dared disrespect him by killing Ivanov on his own territory.

He sees it now, clear as day: the headlines reporting earmarks of a turf war between rival factions. With the recent purge of old blood and upcoming government elections, loyalties will be more divided than ever, and Hua Cheng knows he has to make his move.

“Jesus, you’re like a fucking doll, aren’t you? Such a pretty little thing,” he hears a sleazy, boisterous voice emanate from one of the curtained alcoves, and immediately it sets Hua Cheng on edge.

“Brains as well as beauty, who knew omegas had such a thing?” More laughter. “Go on, Taizi Dianxia, tell ‘em about that Miami gig, fuckin’ Xinyi and her minions.”

“Who’s your sponsor?” One alpha is practically salivating, eyes filled with lust like the worthless bastard that he is. “I’ll pay double, triple, what they spend on you.”

“I’m not owned by anyone,” Xie Lian says, smiling beautifully as he reclines on his seat. “But even if I was, I’d truly be off-limits indeed.”

His response is met to uproarious laughter. Glasses are set down and dollar bills thrown. With every second that passes Hua Cheng’s rage builds like a wave. It started as a low simmer, but it’s quickly reaching boiling point.

“You have quite the mouth on you,” their leader Jinsong Li leers. “I could put it to good use. You want a Mercedes? I’ll give you a Mercedes, darling.” His hand inches up Xie Lian’s thigh. Hua Cheng makes a mental note to slaughter him painfully. “All you have to do is be mine for the night.”

“Fuck off, I called dibs first,” the other brainless alpha says.

“You called dibs? Dibs. Spoken like a cultureless heathen who doesn’t understand a flower’s true worth,” Jinsong Li sneers. “We have a connection, Dianxia and I. An attraction towards each other that goes beyond words. Isn’t that right, baby?” His voice drops to a coo. “You know I’d treat you well. Give you a mansion, give you a castle.”

Like magnets attracting each other, Xie Lian’s gaze finds Hua Cheng’s. And Hua Cheng is ready to snap.

“A castle? I’d give you a city,” Hua Cheng finds himself speaking before he can think it through, hands in his pockets as he steps forward.

The group jolts at the sound of his voice, emitting wary scents, and a smile of cold fury makes its way on Hua Cheng’s face. Even Jinsong Li wavers slightly, before he covers it up with slimy bravado.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the man of the hour, the great Chengzhu himself!” Jinsong Li exclaims, this time snaking an arm around Xie Lian’s waist. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company? Look, doll, you’re quite the star tonight.” He lowers his mouth to Xie Lian’s ear. “Chengzhu’s never interested in anyone, but yet here he is, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.” His grin widens, canines flashing. “I’d hate to give up the treasure that’s already in my hands.”

There are weak, uncomfortable laughs, but no one else really has the gall to act as deplorably as they did. Not when Hua Cheng isn’t in the mood for games. But Jinsong Li has always thought himself exempt from the wrath of the syndicates. Born to a millionaire real estate mogul and a German-Filipino supermodel for a mother, he’s lived his entire life with a silver spoon in his mouth, charged with various acts of larceny and assault by the time he was sixteen. Because of his father’s position in the underworld, he’s had all those offences cleared without enduring so much as a night of jailtime.

Hua Cheng is well-acquainted with alphas of his ilk: bratty, entitled, but most of all foolish. He’s seen the act Jinsong Li puts on for the media to see: a young, attractive, and upstanding citizen with a bright future in investment banking. But anyone who’s anyone knows the truth.

Xie Lian is still smiling, but his eyes don’t lie: they hold no mirth. Sitting all pretty like this, wearing a qipao that has a high slit on either side of the dress, with makeup that gives a delicate softness to his features, he’s basically every alpha’s wet dream. Jinsong Li’s attraction to him is undeniable, but as fond as he is of owning pretty things, he’s even more fond of breaking them, and Hua Cheng would sooner drown the world in blood than allow him to have a taste.

“Oh? A city, you say,” Xie Lian muses, tilting his head.

Jinsong Li’s gaze takes on a crazed glint. “Do you see this, doll? The lengths any alpha would go for a piece of this,” he snickers, grabbing Xie Lian’s ass.

It takes all the willpower Hua Cheng possesses in his body not to explode into a murderous rage right there. Having Jinsong Li near Xie Lian, watching Jinsong Li breathe the very same air as him, makes Hua Cheng want to rip his fingers out with pliers one by one before shoving them into his mouth. The only thing holding him back is Xie Lian’s gaze on him, the tacit reminder of what Hua Cheng allowed him to do with great reluctance.

“Hands off, Li,” Hua Cheng says in a cold voice, “you know I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” The words are crude on his tongue, and he silently asks for forgiveness.

Jinsong Li’s smirk doesn’t fade, but he removes his hand from Xie Lian’s body in an instinctive act of self-preservation. “Fuck, he thinks you’re already his,” Jinsong Li says, awed. “Goddamn!” He laughs. “Do you want to be his, doll? Do you want him to fuck you until you’re crying like a bitch in heat?”

“Isn’t bigger and better what everyone cares about at the end of the day?” Xie Lian says dryly, and Hua Cheng would smirk at this if only he weren’t so furious.

Hua Cheng gets a little closer and makes note of the redness in Jinsong Li’s eyes, the glassiness of his stare. He thinks of the powder-crusted American dollar bills Yin Yu found on the main lobby’s bathroom. He’s fucking had enough.

“Li, if you know what’s best for you, I suggest you put on your best behaviour, return to mommy and daddy, before you cross a line you’ll regret,” he says, deathly soft. “See my face over here? I’m not smiling right now. Do you understand what that means?”

His tone must be like a splash of icy water because a sobering expression passes Jinsong Li’s features. His jaw actually closes shut.

Hua Cheng continues: “It means I am out of patience, out of goodwill, because I’ve had the strangest reports tonight, news of fuck-ups, news of nuisances, news of people who don’t know their place and piss over things that don’t belong to them. Because I don’t want to make a scene, I’ll make this easy for you. Shut your mouth, play nice, be a good boy. But fuck up this chance, your one and only chance, and even daddy dearest won’t be able to help you. Do I make myself clear?”

Jinsong Li doesn’t speak another word after that. But his scent betrays his response.

“Good,” says Hua Cheng. Then he offers his arm to Xie Lian. “Shall we?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, Xie Lian makes his retreat from the table thoughtful and slow. The alphas hunch over their drinks. Jinsong Li is barely out of earshot when Hua Cheng catches his latest comment: “Omegas, they’re all the same. Fucking gold diggers, the lot of them.”

There are half-hearted murmurs of agreement but nothing more.

Hua Cheng’s jaw clenches. He was planning on a quick death for Jinsong Li, but after the events of tonight, Jinsong Li will be screaming his head off long before the light ever leaves his eyes.

They make their way to a private room. They don’t have much time before Hua Cheng has to return to the stupid party, so Xie Lian cuts to the chase and reveals all the information Jinsong Li foolishly let slip, thinking Xie Lian was another trophy omega. If he were smart, he’d know Xie Lian wasn’t even from Aphrodite.

Xie Lian overheard him cornering Shao Jiang, Ivanov’s coroner, in the parking lot, just another one of the nails in the coffin Jinsong Li has been hammering in for himself. If it weren’t for nepotism, his sloppiness would have killed him long before Hua Cheng ever took notice. Frankly, what Jinsong Li did is more of an irritating inconvenience than an actual problem to Hua Cheng; it’s the ripple effect that Hua Cheng wants to stomp out before the Blue Dragons can get more emboldened than they already are.

“Found this in his pocket,” Xie Lian says, placing two platinum cufflinks on Hua Cheng’s palm. “I didn’t know if they were important, but he was toying with them while boasting about how sneaky and above the law he was so I figured there might be a connection.”

Even if your words say nothing, your body language will always give you away. Hua Cheng examines the cufflinks. Ivanov was already stripped of his accessories by the time they recovered his body. Silver Rolex, gold promise ring, gone. Xie Lian’s definitely onto something.

When he’s finished, Xie Lian straightens the collar of Hua Cheng’s shirt and plants a kiss on his cheek. He’s in heels, so he doesn’t have to tiptoe like he usually does. “I’ll see you later, San Lang,” he says, and then he’s gone, just like that.

Nose filled with Xie Lian’s lingering scent, Hua Cheng stands still for a full minute after he left. He would’ve liked to hold Xie Lian for a while longer, would’ve liked to bury his face in Xie Lian’s neck to get rid of that odour Jinsong Li’s touch left, but it’s okay. They’ll have time later and then some.

For now, Hua Cheng returns his focus to the task he has on hand.

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” Hua Cheng groans into Xie Lian’s ear.

“Oh my God.” Xie Lian is digging his nails into Hua Cheng’s back, and it’s the sweetest ache to ever exist. “Faster, San Lang, faster.”

They’re in the back of the SLR McLaren Hua Cheng imported from Germany on a whim, and what a sight Xie Lian makes spread across the upholstery, wet and moaning and flushed pink.

“How are you still this tight?” Hua Cheng hisses, thrusting in so deep he’s sure Xie Lian will feel him in his stomach. “Clench around me like that again, and I won’t be able to last.”

It’s probably their second or third round of the evening, and the windows are all fogged up, the leather sticky with slick, sweat, and come. Prior to this day, Hua Cheng had yet to take the McLaren out for a spin, but the less-than-savoury encounter at his Ritz-Carlton party caused circumstances to change.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Xie Lian sobs as his orgasm shudders through him, back arching, and it doesn’t take very long for Hua Cheng to follow suit.

They just had dinner at the rooftop Nobu downtown, indulging in yellowtail sashimi and lobster with truffle sauce. Xie Lian usually likes simpler fare, but he decided to go along with whatever Hua Cheng wanted, even surprising Hua Cheng in his favourite red lingerie when Hua Cheng showed up at his doorstep. As a consequence, Hua Cheng spent the dinner hard out of his fucking mind, but the payoff was worth it because the sex turned out mind-blowing.

Xie Lian is putting his clothes back on and fixing his hair when Hua Cheng thinks to suggest that they have sex again once they return to Hua Cheng’s place for the night. He has to pinch himself to banish the thought. Xie Lian has a long day tomorrow at the medical facility he works at, and Hua Cheng won’t keep him up.

Hua Cheng is deep into thinking about the meeting he should really set up with He Xuan when he catches sight of the mark on Xie Lian’s arm. He would’ve missed it if the light flick of Xie Lian’s hair on his face didn’t send him back to reality—and fuck. Why is it purple and in the shape of a handprint?

“Gege,” he says, gently cradling Xie Lian’s wrist. “What is this? What the fuck is this?”

“Hm?” Xie Lian glances at the bruise on his skin as if it were merely dust he could easily brush off. His eyebrows lift. “Oh, that.”

Hua Cheng honestly doesn’t know what’s worse: Xie Lian never caring about his own injuries, or Xie Lian letting the people who have hurt him go. Thunderous fury pounds in his ears. He had plans to pay Kim Dae-sung a visit, because new evidence—footage from a frozen meat warehouse’s surveillance camera—revealed he was complicit in the Ivanov case, but now he has every intention to prioritize his crosshairs on Jinsong Li.

“That motherfucker. He followed you, didn’t he?” Hua Cheng racks his brain for memories of the party, when Jinsong Li disappeared after Hua Cheng shook him up. “He did this to you.”

“It’s fine, because I handled him, San Lang. You know me,” Xie Lian says quietly.

Oh, Hua Cheng has no doubts Xie Lian gave him a taste of his own medicine. He’s confident in Xie Lian’s skills, in the hidden strength beneath that pretty-boy face because he used to be a double escort once. Handling security detail while acting as some rich beta madame or mister’s eye-candy accessory. That lasted only a year, because Xie Lian never meant to live that lifestyle—it just happened while he was at school at the time, picking up whatever gigs would make him money—but he was so fucking good at it some clients begged him to come back even years later. He only does recon as an occasional side now, like what he did earlier, but even that he’s planning to leave, too.

But what Hua Cheng is getting at isn’t about Xie Lian’s nonexistent helplessness. It’s the fact someone dared to lay a hand on him, dared to hurt the man he loves, and that? Isn’t something Hua Cheng can ever forgive.

He already had torture in mind when Jinsong Li fondled Xie Lian. But the death Hua Cheng is now thinking of preparing for him will be worse than a thousand hells. Alphas are protective and possessive by nature. Even if Xie Lian isn’t his in the traditional sense—they aren’t bonded by marks—his body already recognizes Xie Lian as his mate. To protect, to dote on, to care for him is primal instinct. Hua Cheng has killed for significantly less—to defend some snot-nosed fresh initiates he couldn’t give two shits about, even—but in defence of a mate, someone he loves…

Being burned alive while having his skin peeled off would be a mercy to Jinsong Li compared to what Hua Cheng has in store for him.

Xie Lian sighs. “San Lang, you’re not thinking about him, are you?” He levels Hua Cheng with a look. “You know he doesn’t matter. He doesn’t.”

Hua Cheng shakes his head absently, mind already slipping into a trance of icy wrath. He just buries his head in the crook of Xie Lian’s neck, because honestly? Xie Lian’s touch is the sole factor that’s preventing a lethal snap moment. Whatever Xie Lian says Hua Cheng usually agrees with, but this? Xie Lian is wrong. He matters.

Everyone who has ever mocked, hurt, been cruel to him matters. Those people don’t realize how good they have it. What if Xie Lian wasn’t kind? What if Xie Lian wasn’t thoughtful, gentle, compassionate? They’d all be fucking dead because Hua Cheng would’ve personally hunted them down one by one.

That’s how good Xie Lian is. Forgive and forget. Let bygones be bygones. Hua Cheng can’t begin to wrap his head around why someone like Xie Lian could ever love someone like him. But he did. He does. And this love is Hua Cheng’s everything.

“He hurt you, gege,” Hua Cheng whispers, lulled by Xie Lian’s breathing. “He hurt you, touched you, laid a hand on you. He—” He breaks off, remembering Jinsong Li’s leer. His arm around Xie Lian’s waist. How he would’ve taken Xie Lian if he had the chance.

A scene plays in Hua Cheng’s head. Jinsong Li must’ve tried something. Xie Lian keeps quiet, but his silence is confirmation enough. Hua Cheng tries to visualize his restraint as a house of cards. But he can’t; there is no house of cards. Jinsong Li is the force that demolished it.

Hua Cheng enters a daze where his body feels like a foreign medium, his thoughts lagging behind his actions with a few seconds’ worth of separation. He feels oddly calm, but there is still a storm inside of him.

Hua Cheng drives them back to his place, a luxury penthouse at the very top of a 33-storey high-rise. The décor is minimalist but elegant, with details that speak to his wealth. He handpicked the artwork personally; he especially loves the painting he thought to pair with a marble sculpture of a long-ago god. The artist named it Lone Flower Amidst the Rain. Hua Cheng thinks what the artist tried to convey was the message of kindness existing even in a sea of cruelty.

Because every time he looks at it, he thinks of Xie Lian. That splash of white in a background of crimson. Xie Lian is the only good and beautiful thing in his life. Xie Lian should leave him, should find a home someplace quiet with swaying wheat fields. He doesn’t belong to this world.

After a quick shower, Hua Cheng finds Xie Lian laughing at a show while eating ice cream out of a tub.

“Are you going to sleep, San Lang?” Xie Lian asks around his spoon.

“In a bit,” Hua Cheng says. He still has a few phone calls to make, a warehouse to clear.

“Okay.” Xie Lian looks like he has more questions, but then sweeping orchestral strings begin to sound and he’s distracted.

Hua Cheng kisses the top of his head before he slips inside his home office. His custom pocketknife is right where he left it. He picks it up. The weight of is comforting and just right.

The scent of booze hangs heavy in the air.

Hua Cheng blows a ring of smoke. “We’re in the right place, aren’t we?” It’s a rhetorical question, of course. He knows they’re in the right place.

Yin Yu nods, then places two fingers to his earpiece, listening to the information the runner inside the building is saying to him. So far, so good. Jinsong Li doesn’t suspect a thing. But he knows what must be up though, if the guards stationed around the entrances are any indication.

No matter. Hua Cheng will just bend those dogs to his will.

The guards do a double take at the sight of him. They see his face, see his men, but can only gape as he strides past them. Compared to Hua Cheng, Jinsong Li is no one, nothing. A mere ant you could quash using your shoe. It doesn’t help he has also antagonized Black Water and Ivanov’s respective gangs. No one can save him now.

The petty affairs of spoiled brats are beneath Hua Cheng—this would have been delegated to a lieutenant—but it became personal the moment Xie Lian got involved. And anyone knows once you cross an underworld boss, you better start praying to all the gods that you know.

Jinsong Li was a special brand of stupid, thinking that just because he was the nephew of a kingpin, he could get away with being an impertinent asshole. Hua Cheng supposes no one ever told him that’s not how it works down in hell.

Jinsong Li is in a room with his little friends, on the verge of diving into gratuitous substance abuse, when Hua Cheng finds him. There are lines of coke on the tables and half-empty bottles of alcohol on the floors, when he jumps up, face falling. It brings a small amount of satisfaction, seeing his arm in a cast and one of his eyes swollen shut, but the real appetizer is on the way while the main course waits.

It takes little resistance to have him and his men dragged into a stowaway van and driven off to the cityside bay, where the warehouse of Hua Cheng’s choice is located. Once the black bags are pulled away from their heads, they heave for breath, gazes wildly darting around to identify where Hua Cheng has taken them.

Hua Cheng’s skyscraper just looms over the horizon, its reflection a slender distortion on the water’s rippling surface. Jinsong Li should know this place. It’s where he had the audacity to try undermining Hua Cheng’s influence.

“And we meet again,” Hua Cheng says, keeping his approach casual and cool.

“Fucking hell,” Jinsong Li breathes. He struggles against the binds. “What the fuck, man? I thought we were good.”

Hua Cheng shakes his head. This level of delusion is almost unbearable. “We were never good, so don’t you dare address me so casually. Either you call me sir”—Hua Cheng traces the tip of his knife along Jinsong Li’s jaw—“Or you don’t get to speak at all.”

“C’mon.” His desperation manifests in a series of light squirming and breathless laughs. “Don’t tell me this is over what I think it is.”

Hua Cheng coolly holds his gaze.

“It’s that whore omega,” Jinsong Li stammers out, crazed. He murmurs this part as if Hua Cheng can’t hear him: “Fucking bitch really couldn’t shut his trap while spreading his legs.”

Hua Cheng is tempted to slice off his tongue, but he wills himself to wait. To first savour his prey’s fear. Jinsong Li’s eyes are bloodshot, which means he probably snorted a line before Hua Cheng arrived; perhaps this intoxication will worsen his upcoming torment.

Hua Cheng manoeuvres the blade. He rattles off a list of names to keep his anger at bay and unnerve Jinsong Li.

Jinsong Li feigns ignorance, so Hua Cheng cuts a nick below his ear. He gasps.

The next cut Hua Cheng gives seems to do the trick, and Jinsong Li tattles, his cowardice showing the whole way through. It’s a long hour; by the time Jinsong Li gets to the part about Dmitri Ivanov, he’s pale and trembling all over. He’s an easy safe to crack; most guys certainly took longer to break.

However, Jinsong Li is still in one piece, so this won’t do.

Hua Cheng snaps on a pair of leather gloves and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows for the next part. “I’m afraid your time is almost up, Li,” he says. “I was willing to make it quick, but scum like you don’t deserve that luxury.”

“No! Wait!” The chair tilts with his vehement rocking. “I’ve got more names, more people! Kill me, and you’ll never know the true dirt on Kim Dae-sung! Kill me, and my father will hear about this!”

“You hurt Xie Lian,” Hua Cheng murmurs softly, half-listening. “You tried to force yourself on him.”

“Fuck! W-what kind of alpha must that make you, being bitched by a bitch!” Jinsong Li reddens, wild, frenzied. His every syllable is dipped in panic. “He was practically asking for it! All omegas do! Give them cock, and they’ll shut up, whiny little cunts—”

Hua Cheng twists in the knife mere centimetres away from Jinsong Li’s family jewels, and the scream that pierces the air is glorious. This blade was forged using carbon steel; cutting into Jinsong Li will be as smooth as butter.

Hua Cheng informs Jinsong Li he will be shoving his cock down his throat once he’s finished breaking him. Jinsong Li won’t stop screaming his head off now.

“Stop! Stop! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Spittle and blood splatter. They join the oily puddles left by the rainwater last night. Nearby, neon lights flicker with a broken hum and a warped version of Killing Me Softly With His Song is playing through distant speakers.

When Hua Cheng was fifteen, an underboss of a gang he used to work for taught him how to kill a man with a cleaver. He learned the locations of the major arteries, how to sever flexor tendons, how to draw out blood loss. It was fucked up, what he was made to do. What he took away from it.

Sometimes, it wasn’t even about the death itself but the statement it gave. A clean slit across the throat told a very different story from a knife through the windpipe. And Hua Cheng needed to know how to make it hurt. Needed to know how to tell a story with actions and not only words.

Tears have begun to stream down Jinsong Li’s face. He’ll be a shell of what he used to be soon. “Stop,” he repeats weakly, voice thinning. “Please.”

Hua Cheng wonders: how many times the omegas he terrorized according to hidden police records must’ve begged for him to please stop. He shakes his head.

“Mercy is for saints,” he says, whisper-soft, “and we’re all sinners here. You won’t find any with me.”

A cart is rolled in. The safety of a gun unclicks. Jinsong Li’s men fall, one by one.

Hua Cheng saves the lecherous bastard with dyed blonde hair for last. He was almost as bad, so Hua Cheng makes sure Jinsong Li knows the world of hurt he’s in for.

Finally, his body thuds to the ground. Hua Cheng turns to Jinsong Li. There’s the sound of a steel pipe dragging across asphalt. Jinsong Li is done for.

“San Lang?” Xie Lian calls out softly from where he has been sleeping on the bed.

The security system beeps to show the penthouse is being re-armed, and Hua Cheng slips underneath the covers, tired as hell. He had a shower before he returned home; he couldn’t possibly show up in blood-stained clothes. Xie Lian knows what he does, but Hua Cheng has always sheltered him from its unadulterated truth. Escort work and recon—they’re worlds away from real evil.

“Go back to sleep, gege,” Hua Cheng says. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

Xie Lian yawns, snuggling Hua Cheng. “I almost thought you weren’t coming back until morning.”

“Finished early.” It’s a pity Jinsong Li bled out before the final act. “Decided to leave the rest of the work to Yin Yu.” He’d never stoop so low as to organize disposal.

“Early?” Xie Lian laughs. “It’s three a.m.”

“It is what it is, gege.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just as long as you come home to me,” Xie Lian murmurs, already drifting off.

“Always,” Hua Cheng whispers into Xie Lian’s temple.

Sometimes, Hua Cheng wonders if the darkness in his heart was always there.

There’s this saying: evil isn’t born. It’s made. But sometimes, Hua Cheng wonders how much of that is actually true. Because when he was born, it took one look at his face for his father to decide he was a monster. He was the superstitious kind, his father. Mentally fucked in the head, as Hua Cheng would say now. He believed in signs, believed in premonition.

Believed the crimson of Hua Cheng’s right eye heralded great misfortune. For someone to be as insane as that in the twenty-first century, they had to have belonged to a cult. Because what kind of man would believe his child to be the coming of Satan based on words of the occult from a crazy hack?

At least Hua Cheng’s mother probably loved him once, he thinks. Even his older brothers, vile as they were, said she wept happy tears when she first held him. That must mean she harboured maternal affection towards Hua Cheng even it was just for a second, a moment.

But darkness has a way of spreading. It corrupted his father, then killed his mother not long after. His father beat her up, after all. Through his words, his hands. There was no mercy to be spared for a woman who had lain with the devil.

One day, his mother took a look at his face, at his eyes, and decided she saw a monster. So she tried gouging the evil out of him, the part that resembled calamity. The neighbours saw, and the sirens took her away. At age ten, this left Hua Cheng practically orphaned, his father behind bars and his mother dead in a psychiatric ward.

All alone in the world, Hua Cheng remembers wanting to die at the time. No one cared about him after all, certainly not his father or brothers or the social workers murmuring about the presence of “another one.” If he disappeared, surely it would do the earth a favour to have one less waste of space to feed.

It was raining in the streets where he contemplated ending his life. He’d make a show out of it, he thought. Make his way to the top of a tower. Fall off. Let gravity handle the rest.

But then his saviour entered the picture. A boy a little bit older than he was with shining brown hair and eyes of gold.

To this day, Hua Cheng wonders what would’ve become of him if he was never given an umbrella, the symbol he regarded as encouragement to live on. Would he have died from following through with his plan? Would he have been a cripple if it had failed? Or would he have been another useless nobody, wasted away by drugs and starvation?

But he hates dwelling on that: he lived, didn’t he? Lived to become the man that he is. The king of the city underneath his feet. Gone is the boy who wanted to embrace death. He was reborn in that alleyway, replaced by someone who’d keep it at arm’s length and weaponize it.

The darkness in Hua Cheng’s heart was always there, he decides. It just needed a reason to blossom…

What a long day it’s been.

Following the untimely deaths of Jinsong Li and his friends, the Blue Dragons called for a new accord. Hua Cheng saw through the act, of course; nothing more than a smokescreen to disguise a personal vendetta in the making. Hua Cheng finally caved and met up with He Xuan at his base of operations. They both agreed to find Kim Dae-sung quickly and work their way to the root cause from there.

Hua Cheng’s temples started aching by the end of it, so he called up Xie Lian.

Mid-afternoon finds him at a fancy clothing boutique in the Heaven’s Avenue shopping district with Xie Lian, because Xie Lian is looking to pick out gifts for his friend Shi Qingxuan, who has expensive tastes. Hua Cheng has always wanted to spoil Xie Lian like this—shower him in Prada, Dior, Cartier –but Xie Lian would much rather go to discount department stores, and who is Hua Cheng to fantasize parading him around like a trophy mate?

“San Lang, what do you think of this?” Xie Lian asks, holding up a chiffon blouse with elaborate lace detail and openwork ruching.

Hua Cheng would give a half-hearted assessment but imagining Xie Lian in those clothes always does the trick, so he calls it a good choice. Xie Lian beams.

The blouse is packed away, along with a pair of satin pants, by an overly deferential sales associate and then they’re off. They stroll past more luxury storefronts until Hua Cheng decides he wants a snack, so they head towards a café with artisanal cakes on the display window.

Over steaming cups of coffee and sandwiches, Xie Lian tells him about his day.

He was offered a permanent position as a researcher in the lab tech sector, so instead of working on-call, he’ll be sitting cushy at a 7-3, five days a week. Hua Cheng tells Xie Lian he’s happy for him. Xie Lian blushes. He pursued both a business and science degree back in university, and he has a great mind for analysis; there’s no question he’ll do well.

“Also, I have news to tell you, San Lang,” Xie Lian says, tucking a strand of hair beneath his ear.

Hua Cheng was attentive throughout the entire time Xie Lian was talking, but he gets the feeling this is something he should focus on. He waits.

Xie Lian takes a sip of coffee. And then he says, “I’m going to Tokyo.”

Hua Cheng’s smile wavers. He expected many things, but this…All the happiness he feels for Xie Lian fails to outweigh the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Xie Lian explains that his friend Shi Qingxuan pulled some strings to have him train in a world-renowned institute. Shi Qingxuan is the omega son of a rich power couple who own a variety of commercial establishments worldwide, so it makes sense, considering Xie Lian did his calculus homework for him.

Xie Lian proceeds to say his move isn’t permanent; he’ll be back in four months. The experience will be invaluable. He talks about how lucky he is to have acquired the internship. The interviews were tough, but having connections never hurt.

He’ll do one last recon gig before he’s out for good. Someone from a fairly established gambling parlour reached out, and he’s fine playing another part as a decoy.

Hua Cheng stares at Xie Lian. In a few weeks, Xie Lian will start a brand new chapter of his life. In four months, he might not want to come back, might decide to relocate somewhere else for good. It could be Tokyo. Or another place halfway across the world.

Hua Cheng tells Xie Lian he’s amazing. Xie Lian blushes some more, shakes him off.

This is the moment Hua Cheng always wanted for Xie Lian. Due to his self-loathing, Hua Cheng is constantly thinking about how Xie Lian could do so much better than him. But just thinking about Xie Lian leaving, about Xie Lian deciding on a complete do-over, ignites in Hua Cheng a dread so deep he could potentially drown in it.

He always told himself if Xie Lian ever wanted it, he’d let Xie Lian break things off and go.

But now that there’s reason to possibly believe it could happen, Hua Cheng doesn’t think he’s selfless enough to allow it.

“Your eyes, son. A demon lives inside of you.”

It’s that same nightmare again.

Hua Cheng blinks open his eyes slowly, wide awake now. The first thing that greets him is the sight of the city skyline displayed on his floor-to-ceiling windows; Xie Lian must’ve parted the black-out shades.

The sheets beside him are warm but empty. He hears music from beyond the hallway and the sound of eggs frying. He doesn’t know why he dreamt of his mother, but he could probably chalk it up to his lingering anxiety. Maybe he needs to get back on Valium…

It’s a beautiful morning. Sunlight bathes the conjoined kitchen and living room in shades of orange and yellow. Xie Lian is at the kitchen sink, washing dishes. The stove has been turned off, and plates of food assembled. Xie Lian’s hair is up in a bun, leaving his neck exposed. Hua Cheng longs to play with the baby wisps of hair at his nape.

Xie Lian’s hearing must be preoccupied with the music, because he doesn’t register Hua Cheng’s presence until Hua Cheng is sliding his arms around Xie Lian’s waist. He lets out a small squeak.

“Hi, gege,” Hua Cheng says, lips tracing the marks he left over Xie Lian’s skin last night. “Did you sleep well?”

It’s an innocent enough question but the sultry undertones are undeniable.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian says, melting into his touch, “you kept me up all night.”

That he did, nice and slow. Against the windows, up a wall, and on the bed. “Sorry,” he chuckles, kissing Xie Lian’s shoulder.

Xie Lian twists around to frown at him. “No, you’re not.”

Hua Cheng kisses the look off his face. “No, I’m not.” He nuzzles Xie Lian, then notices the shirt he’s wearing—one of Hua Cheng’s faded designer tees. It’s so big on him, it reaches the middle of his thighs.

“I couldn’t have resisted gege, not when he was wearing those panties,” Hua Cheng teases, sneaking a hand underneath the shirt’s hem.

Because he can, he gropes upwards. He finds his fingers brushing skin and only skin.

The pitch of his voice drops to a low rumble. Fuck. Xie Lian is somehow always finding new ways to drive him crazy.  “Gege,” he says, loving what he’s feeling.

Xie Lian blinks innocent eyes up at him. “What?”

The fact he was walking around the penthouse in just a breezy shirt, cooking breakfast, bending over to pick up their discarded clothes off the floor… It would take a meteor flying down to earth to stop Hua Cheng from devouring him now. “If you wanted me to fuck you against the kitchen counter, you could’ve just said so,” he says, getting to the point, because his assertiveness is a trait Xie Lian really seems to find attractive.

Once, Hua Cheng caught Xie Lian leaking after he cussed up a storm to a pesky client over the phone. Hua Cheng has taken advantage of Xie Lian’s mean talk kink ever since.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Look”—Hua Cheng slips a finger inside his entrance—“You’re really wet again.”

Xie Lian whimpers.

The breakfast Xie Lian cooked is forgotten for half an hour because they start fucking right there in the kitchen. Hua Cheng thought their most recent session would be enough to tide him over until evening, but here he is, unable to stop craving for more.

Thrusting into Xie Lian’s tight, wet heat is like taking a shot of pure heroin, and it leaves him wired and euphoric.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” Hua Cheng moans into Xie Lian’s ear, practically panting. “So fucking perfect just for me.”

Xie Lian can only grip the marble countertops in response.

This is soft and lazy sex compared to what they have been recently up to, but Hua Cheng finds he likes it very much. It reminds him of a life they could have together, waking up next to Xie Lian every day, fucking his knot inside Xie Lian until his seed takes…

Xie Lian looks up at him with misty eyes. Hua Cheng thinks he comes harder than he did last night.

All because of a daydream where Xie Lian is carrying their child, it occurs to him later on when they’re finally eating breakfast. When alphas obsessively think of knotting outside of a rut, it means they’re in too deep, but Hua Cheng was already dreaming of knotting Xie Lian long before this day.

They haven’t talked about it much, but Hua Cheng knows Xie Lian wants to have kids. Xie Lian brought it up when he was giggly off champagne during a weekend spent on a luxury yacht. He has a low tolerance for alcohol, so he probably doesn’t remember, but he was sighing about how nice it would be to have a family in a large, beautiful home.

It wasn’t about a specific future with Hua Cheng, though. Just a future in general.

Could Hua Cheng even give him something like that, though? Considering Hua Cheng’s line of work, where it’s possible the people you love will be in danger, he’s always been so careful to keep Xie Lian out of sight. Not because he doesn’t want the world to know Xie Lian is his, but because others might take advantage of it. Might use Xie Lian against him.

If they’ve been really keeping tabs, they’d know Xie Lian is in a relationship with him, but because of the crime world’s outdated views on omegas, they probably just see him as a pampered pet…

Hua Cheng looks up from his plate to watch Xie Lian, who is wiping whipped cream off his chin. He imagines their child together, a sweet boy of four or five. Would he have Hua Cheng’s crimson eyes? Would he have Xie Lian’s smile? Would he look more like Hua Cheng or more like Xie Lian or a combination of them both?

Because Hua Cheng likes to wallow in self-misery from time to time, he imagines Xie Lian leaving him and finding someone else. Xie Lian will be in another country for his practicum, so maybe the trip will open his eyes to the normal life he’s been missing out on.

Hua Cheng looks back to the kind of house Xie Lian fawned over while flipping through a contemporary home magazine. He imagines Xie Lian there, dancing under the kitchen lights with his faceless mate as their faceless pups run around…

Okay, Hua Cheng can actually feel his heart breaking into two. That’s enough suffering for one day.

Xie Lian begins talking about how happy Shi Qingxuan was with his presents. Hua Cheng listens because he genuinely needs a distraction, but he would listen to Xie Lian even if he didn’t need one.

They finish breakfast. Hua Cheng readies himself to go to work. He has a long day ahead of him.

Before he leaves, Xie Lian tells Hua Cheng this: “I love you. Stay safe, San Lang.”

Yeah, who is Hua Cheng kidding? Hua Cheng could never, ever let him go.

This interrogation session is near unbearable, and Hua Cheng is ready to leave.

“You son of a bitch!” Kim Dae-sung sobs, struggling against his restraints.

He Xuan regards Kim Dae-sung coolly as he takes a deep drag of his cigarette. It’s clear that he, too, just wants this over and done with, but it feels like they’ve barely scratched the surface of what they really want out of Kim Dae-sung. Which is no good.

Hua Cheng glances at Kim Dae-sung’s companion’s lifeless body on the floor. He gives the signal. Hands remove the body out of the room, and the howl Kim Dae-sung gives is guttural.

“I told you! I was only following orders! Of course I had to try and cut loose ends!” he screams.

“Loose ends?” He Xuan raises an eyebrow. “Not only did you fuck up by getting yourself involved with the Dmitri Ivanov shitstorm, but you’ve also been imposing on Jade Lantern territory for months. What, you think I don’t know? Ling Wen has it on file you intercepted Guofeng Wang’s shipment of arms all because you couldn’t let anyone know it was you who fucked up the deal with Fumiko Watanabe…”

Hua Cheng listens just enough to get the gist of He Xuan’s speech but tunes out the rest because most of Kim Dae-sung’s wrongdoings don’t concern him. About that shipment of arms, though. Maybe he’ll get Yin Yu to question Ling Wen. She must have the timestamps for the bulk carriers that entered the Jade Lanterns’ port of entry…

Ling Wen is a female alpha who works as the overseer of the Intercontinental, an organization in charge of maintaining neutrality amongst the gangs. Ever since she took office, operations have been running smoother than they did under her predecessor, who fell from grace. Because the gangs are always out for blood and at one other’s throat, some semblance of order had to be in place, so that’s where the Intercontinental comes in—to stem the tide of frequent wars.

But still. Nothing’s going to keep a storm from brewing once lightning strikes.

 “…fuck, I only did it because that fucking bastard scared me shitless about Bai Wuxiang being back!”

Hua Cheng stopped paying attention after He Xuan was done talking, but now that Kim Dae-sung mentioned Bai Wuxiang—he’s all ears.

“Oh? What’s that? You want to hear more about good old White No-Face?” Kim Dae-sung spits on the ground. “Too bad! You killed the guy who had the fucking details!”

He Xuan flicks his cigarette to the ground, eyes curious now. Hua Cheng gives Kim Dae-sung a thoughtful glance. Bai Wuxiang—or the White-Clothed Calamity, as he’s more popularly known—is something of a legend in the crime world. He was long gone by the time Hua Cheng rose to power, but his influence still lives on. Ruthless, amoral, half-cut with blood, like all lords are, he bent the territories to his will and razed several opposing gangs into ash.

But he seemed to have disappeared out of the blue one day. He was in the midst of solidifying his rule as one of the most powerful syndicate bosses of all time, and then he was just—gone. No one knows what really happened. There have been stories, but most just seem a tad too outlandish to actually be true. Some say he died. Some day he disappeared to Russia to hibernate and amass a supernatural weapon of inimical proportions.

Personally, Hua Cheng thinks the fucker just died, but whatever.

So to hear Kim Dae-sung’s claim that he could possibly be back, he almost rolls his eyes. Who knows, though? Bai Wuxiang was never 100% confirmed dead. It’s possible he’s still out there.

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll just get you to talk. Spill all that you know, then find someone else who can fill in the rest,” Hua Cheng says, idly flipping his pocketknife. “That guy of yours? He was just one man. One measly rat. And you know what I do with rats?” He pauses to let the tension swell. “I don’t leave any alive.”

The lights dim. Kim Dae-sung screams as his chair is dragged to a corner of the room.

Hua Cheng and He Xuan take turns sweating him and the rest of his cronies until they crack, and it actually proves to be a fruitful use of their time. The information Kim Dae-sung gave under duress matches the intel Xie Lian wheedled out of Jinsong Li, and now they know just who to call.

He Xuan suggests the Pink Lotus brothel owner because she owes him a favour and will give him exactly what he wants to know. Hua Cheng sets his sights on the floor traders Kim Dae-sung was close to.

Kim Dae-sung will be left alive for now because they still have more to beat out of him.

“What do you think about this whole Bai Wuxiang situation?”

This question is asked by He Xuan once they’re out by the marina bay and the salty air is whipping their faces. Hua Cheng keeps his eye trained on the ocean waves, features mostly impassive, because at this stage Bai Wuxiang is like the Boogieman. A mere story, because why would he return from his grave after all this time?

To what, regain the position he once held?

Hua Cheng thinks. On a more serious note, Bai Wuxiang’s return would probably be bad bad. During his reign, he fucked up a lot of people, and that had the Domino effect of fucking up lots of other people. Sure, Hua Cheng has killed, murdered, and hurt others, but Bai Wuxiang was different. He was batshit crazy. He brought about ruin with reckless abandon.

He wasn’t crazy once upon a time, until he found someone he couldn’t corrupt, according to some story, and then he went off the rails.  Xie Lian once blanched at the mention of him, but gave the excuse he had indigestion from sushi, and that just told Hua Cheng there was more to his reaction than meets the eye. Hua Cheng can’t claim to know all the details of Xie Lian’s life because everyone has their secrets, but Bai Wuxiang affected lots of people. He probably had something to do with what happened to Xie Lian’s parents. Which Xie Lian has never touched on.

“Don’t know. Don’t really care,” Hua Cheng sighs, irked all of a sudden.

Wherever Bai Wuxiang is, Hua Cheng hopes he stays dead, because he doesn’t want to have to deal with another inter-gang feud any time soon when he just barely managed to keep a lid on this one.

He Xuan uses the brief silence to smoke another cigarette thoughtfully. Hua Cheng swipes his lighter, because all this thinking has left him jittery for a hit.

With Xie Lian away in Tokyo, Hua Cheng devotes his time to cleaning house.

Moles, rats, unscrupulous whistleblowers—he has his people on constant surveillance. Vermin are exterminated and alliances renewed as new players weave in and out of the picture. Jinsong Li’s death is covered up as a mysterious act of senseless murder, and Hua Cheng can only snort.

On national television, his parents are whisked away by bodyguards to avoid reporters and their flashing lights. Hua Cheng catches sight of the young woman following their trail; Jinsong Li’s sister. If anything, it’s her he has to watch out for, because she’s a smart and cunning alpha who knows how to play people like a fiddle.

He Xuan has begun readying a revenge plan of his own. Something to do with the Shi family heir: Shi Wudu. As long as Xie Lian isn’t swept up into He Xuan’s crosshairs because of his association to Shi Qingxuan, Hua Cheng doesn’t particularly care about what happens. But there’s one glaring problem: He Xuan is in love.

“Well, you’re fucked,” Hua Cheng says.                       

He Xuan doesn’t respond. Shi Qingxuan has likely no idea he’s Black Water. What a messy can of worms.

Four months go by in a blink. Xie Lian comes back, and he’s just glowing, like he’s never been happier. Either he’s that happy to see Hua Cheng, or the trip invigorated him so much he became all the more filled with life. Hua Cheng visited Xie Lian in Tokyo when he could, but it’s different when the person you love is in your arms at the home you share together.

Well, about the home you share together part. Hua Cheng has done his thinking.

Now, Hua Cheng knows he’s far from a good man. For as long as he lives, he’ll likely always be this way. Sanctioning murders. Turning a blind eye to drug trafficking. Engaging in extortion, political intimidation, and who knows what else. There are lines he won’t cross, but still. He’s no fucking saint. And Xie Lian…he must know that. Must know the kind of man Hua Cheng is, must know he’s wicked, sinful, wrong. But he still loves Hua Cheng, doesn’t he? Still loves him, still wants to be with him, in spite of all his flaws, his defects.

Not a day has gone by where Hua Cheng didn’t love Xie Lian from the moment Xie Lian saved his life. There’s no one or nothing else Hua Cheng wants more in this world. For Xie Lian, he’d kill. For Xie Lian, he’d sand all his broken edges. Xie Lian is his everything, and he’d fight fate, fight destiny, if it were to ever come in his way.

When Xie Lian melts into his embrace the night of his return, Hua Cheng feels a calm settle over him.

The plan is this: to ask Xie Lian to marry him.

The time’s never right—never perfect—for it, however. They both get busy again, Xie Lian with his work, and Hua Cheng with the problems left by the assassination of some important political figure. An international intelligence agency has set its sights on one of his affiliates; it’s not like the fallout is going to directly affect Hua Cheng, but business operations will have to be rerouted. What a whole lot of legwork on his plate. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Once that’s done, Hua Cheng orders Yin Yu to ready a private jet to The Palm. It was about time he went on vacation.

His Gulfstream G650 is the beauty that takes Xie Lian and him to his sprawling beach villa, which was advertised as having a gorgeous ocean view, wraparound infinity-edge pool, and floating loungeroom pavilions by the realtor. That’s why he bought the place; not only is the natural landscape amazing, but the interior is also just as beautiful.

Twenty-thousand square feet of high ceilings and sun-soaked suites outfitted with both modern and Mediterranean details. Hua Cheng wishes he could initiate getaways more often.

Xie Lian has never been here before because Hua Cheng purchased the property just recently. To say his jaw drops is a bit of an understatement.

They start off the day by eating a lunch that his in-house chef prepared before spending hours sight-seeing and swimming in the pool. They’re spent by hour four, so the afternoon is devoted to a long, deep nap. The sun is at the horizon when they wake; it’s such a gorgeous view Xie Lian can’t peel his eyes off of it.

What finally grabs his attention is the hand Hua Cheng slides down his sleep-shorts. It’s been a while, after all.

They have all the time in the world, so Hua Cheng makes full use of it—with his fingers, lips, and tongue. He gets Xie Lian to come inside his mouth thrice, before flipping him over and fucking him. They’ll probably end up breaking this bed by dawn, but that’s okay. That’s what the seven other bedrooms are there for.

Morning comes and Xie Lian tells him he wants to watch movies. They spend hours in front of a television screen. Midway through a period piece with demons, Xie Lian excuses himself to answer his phone. Hua Cheng stays put.

Until twenty minutes go by, and Xie Lian still hasn’t returned.

It’s nothing, Hua Cheng tells himself. Xie Lian was in the middle of an important project when he agreed to this impromptu trip. It’s probably just a work thing. Hua Cheng himself is supposed to be on vacation, yet he still answers calls every few hours. Work never stops no matter where he is. Early on in his career, he learned that micromanagement is key to running an empire, and it’s a lesson he’s long since stuck by.

Eventually, curiosity gets the better of Hua Cheng. It has him listening in to the conversation Xie Lian is having. He catches bits and pieces. Xie Lian is (now) talking to Shi Qingxuan, so obviously it’s about the villa and how much Xie Lian has been enjoying himself.

They move on to the subject of Xie Lian’s internship. Xie Lian fills him in about how his last week there went. It had been tough but he made it out with flying colours. The researcher he was shadowing told him all doors were open for him now.

They share a happy laugh. Xie Lian reveals there was another overseas opportunity the researcher offered him, but he hasn’t talked about it to anyone else yet. Hua Cheng walks away.

The conversation is just as Hua Cheng expected.

Except—now that he’s looking, he can’t stop thinking about it. He borrows Xie Lian’s laptop under the guise his ran out of charge and discovers a search history rich with information on moving abroad. Memories resurface, of Xie Lian wanting to leave the unsavoury parts of his past behind, of Xie Lian wanting to start fresh on a new slate, of Xie Lian sighing longingly at the idea of a quieter life.

Hua Cheng scrolls through the list. They loop in Hua Cheng’s mind, Xie Lian’s words, his expressions. He doesn’t think Xie Lian is going to break up with him, but the thought that he might represent the association Xie Lian needs to cut ties with to fully move on twists his stomach into knots.

His mood hangs over him like a cloud, and thankfully Xie Lian doesn’t comment too much on it. He’s extra sweeter during the next two days, so Hua Cheng feels bad that his anxiety is flaring up again. He shouldn’t be experiencing such weakness anymore. His medications were supposed tohelp.

Upping the dosage only made his father visit him one night. As a shadow, as a dream-nightmare. One moment Hua Cheng was standing in a field of black glass and the next he was holding his mother’s bruise-battered body in his arms. Like mother, like son, his father sneered before readying his hand for a strike. That’s when Hua Cheng woke up in a cold sweat. His father’s fist never collided with his face in the dream, but it still made his skin prickle afterwards.

Now, Hua Cheng sips at some iced water and clenches his jaw. Why must the stupid past come back to haunt him every so often? It’s shameful, the hold these awful memories still have on him years later. He doesn’t want to remember any of them. He just wants to forget. So to have them dredge up again even after he got his vengeance—it has him feeling weak, vulnerable.

These thoughts are dispersed by Xie Lian gently coaxing him to bed. The effect is akin to the sensation of cold winter air giving way to the warmth of sunlight. He’s the only anchor Hua Cheng has to this world.

The next day, it’s Xie Lian who begins acting a little different. He looks blotchy, blush-red. But then Hua Cheng remembers: Xie Lian takes suppressants when his heat is due to mitigate its effects. Which makes sense; omegas typically remain on suppressants until they’ve been mated to an alpha, because pure heats can be painful if they aren’t procreating.

Xie Lian’s heat is due soon. And it reminds Hua Cheng of what they aren’t yet. Mated.

In a stupor, Hua Cheng goes through Xie Lian’s side of the bathroom cabinet. Xie Lian recently switched back to the pill because he claimed the injections were messing up his heat cycles, so a bottle of birth control pills sits there. They don’t use condoms for obvious reasons—they both like it bare—so it was either the pills or injections.

The bottle must be new because it’s full. Hua Cheng imagines throwing the pills away, imagines Xie Lian forgetting to take them. There’s a packet of placebo sugar pills Hua Cheng never disposed of that came with his meds. He thinks of their future together. He thinks of their little boy. His fingers move ahead of his thoughts.

The reality of his actions only hits him after dinner much later on, when he’s in his home office answering calls that he missed earlier. The pills. He actually swapped the pills. What has he done?

The first thought he has is to go back and return things right where they belong. How fucked up is it that he considered putting a baby in Xie Lian without Xie Lian even knowing? Just because he said he wanted kids when he was tipsy doesn’t mean he’s ready to have them. Does Hua Cheng really think this will convince Xie Lian they’re meant to be? That Xie Lian will automatically want their child, that Xie Lian will choose to be with him forever?

Because Xie Lian is an angel, he’d probably stay even if he were to find out the truth. But it doesn’t mean Xie Lian would forgive him. Maybe he’d even grow to hate Hua Cheng.

Hua Cheng thinks of his mother and what she told him the night she tried wounding him. He blocked out most of the words, but he wasn’t able to stop the hurt from lingering. Would Xie Lian come to feel that way if their child had Hua Cheng’s crimson eyes—a glimpse of the man who wronged him? I can’t look at you, son, you remind me too much of him.

Hua Cheng mentally berates himself. He’s losing his grip. What possessed him to think Xie Lian would ever come close to what his mother was? Xie Lian is too kind-hearted to ever think that way. To insinuate Xie Lian might love their potential child less as time went on, Hua Cheng as good as insulted him. Just because he’s haunted by the crippling fear of Xie Lian abandoning him doesn’t give him the right to imagine how wrong it might turn out to be if Xie Lian were to stay.

Hua Cheng’s stares up at the ceiling. The dangling metal tube light fixtures seem to pulse brighter. Maybe the meds are doing more harm than good.

He finishes up the last of his work. He should probably take back what he did.

But he doesn’t get the chance to. The moment he’s at the top of the stairs, a pleasing smell enters his olfactory range. The scent is sweet, blossom-tinged, with traces of peach undertones. His instincts veer him towards the scent. He ends up in their bedroom.

The scent has to be ten times stronger here because it all hits him like a truck. It overwhelms Hua Cheng’s senses; makes him dizzy and aroused. Xie Lian—he must be starting a pure heat right at this very moment, Hua Cheng thinks wildly.

When omegas start a pure heat, their pheromones can trigger their alphas to experience an early rut. That’s what must be happening to Hua Cheng now. He’s helped Xie Lian through his heats before but never a pure one because he was always on suppressants. So to have Xie Lian on the bed they share together, mewling his name, begging for him—

“S-San L-Lang,” Xie Lian whimpers from beneath the sheets.

It’s in an alpha’s nature to answer an omega in distress, so Hua Cheng immediately goes towards him. Judging by the way he looks, the way he sounds, Hua Cheng figures he’s already deep in the throes of heat. He gently removes the sheets. Xie Lian is curled up in a ball, trembling. The sheer white sleeping clothes he wears are damp with sweat, and they cling to his figure.

“I’m here, gege,” Hua Cheng says, aware that his breathing has just picked up. “I’m here.”

Xie Lian turns to look up at him. He always looks perfect, but now he’s devastatingly enticing. Pink, glistening lips, puffy nipples that show through his garments, round hips, and plump thighs, he must be a divine entity sent down by heaven to tempt Hua Cheng. Aphrodite incarnate.

His unbound hair frames his head like a halo. He cries out, “San Lang, I—I need you.”

Something within Hua Cheng goes taut like bowstrings being pulled back. Xie Lian whines again, and the snap moment finally happens. Reduced to his primal instincts, he gravitates toward Xie Lian, determined to breed him. The series of events that escalates is as nature intended: the two of them fucking like mindless animals for days.

If he ever thought he could resist Xie Lian’s allure, that was never going to happen, because staying connected to Xie Lian is all Hua Cheng can think about. Fucking him, breeding him, knotting him—he’d look absolutely perfect swollen with child. Every time they have to stop—to eat or sleep or use the bathroom—Hua Cheng aches until his cock is finally inside Xie Lian once again. Time is as shapeless as vapour within this heat cycle, and the only care he has in this world is to make Xie Lian his.

But somewhere in the fog of the heat daze, there’s a rational part of him that’s still in control. Despite the fact his canines sting with the urge to bite skin, he has enough presence of mind to stop himself from doing something he might regret. As much as he wants to claim Xie Lian, mating marks are special, traditionally reserved for wedding nights. Xie Lian was a virgin when they first started dating and later on, after Hua Cheng had made love to him, he admitted he’d always hoped his first time might be special.

One of the last memories Hua Cheng has of his mother was her screaming about having been locked into marriage by her family because of a mark she didn’t even ask for.

As he knots Xie Lian, comes inside of him again and again, he thinks.

Hua Cheng can’t do that to Xie Lian. He can’t.

If he did, he’d be no better than his father.

The end of Xie Lian’s heat cycle is marked by the sharpness of his senses. Fully himself once more, Hua Cheng wakes up in bed alone.

Wait—alone?

Before panic can set in, Xie Lian emerges from the bathroom, wearing a silk robe that fails to hide how ravaged he looks. He has bruises everywhere. They litter his neck, chest, and thighs.

“Hi, San Lang,” Xie Lian says softly, shy as if it was their first time all over again.

“Hey,” says Hua Cheng.

He slips into the space beside Hua Cheng, smelling of strawberries and citrus. He took a shower; his hair falls in damp waves, and his skin is dewy with moisturizer.

Xie Lian absently runs a palm over the back of his neck. “Did—did you sleep well?”

Hua Cheng feels better rested than he has been in years. Rejuvenated. He smiles. Why does Xie Lian ask? But Xie Lian doesn’t reply—he only blushes, kissing Hua Cheng before murmuring an excuse about wanting to have breakfast. When he leaves the room, the warmth Hua Cheng felt from being around Xie Lian’s presence suddenly turns cold.

Unless Hua Cheng is imagining things, why did Xie Lian’s scent feel almost sad?

They don’t end up talking about it. The vacation is cut short by an emergency at his main office, and they arrive back home the very next morning. Hua Cheng was supposed to pop the question of marriage while they were watching the sunset, but plans changed because Xie Lian seemed…quiet. Distant. Like he was there but not really.

Hua Cheng is then swept up by various conference meetings, leaving him no time to breathe or really think about the morning Xie Lian’s heat came to an end. The birth control pill bottle was gone when he tried looking for it, and he couldn’t exactly ask Xie Lian where he hid it. Wracked by guilt, Hua Cheng quietly pushed the matter aside.

In the coming days, Hua Cheng begins to second-guess himself. Maybe Xie Lian regrets what happened. Is he upset he spent his first heat like that when he probably meant for it to be special? His heat came sudden and unexpected, so Hua Cheng doesn’t know what to think. Maybe it had something to do with the injections Xie Lian used to take—it’s likely they interfered with his suppressants.

At any rate, Hua Cheng can see that even if Xie Lian has been pretending he’s fine, he isn’t. Hua Cheng has tried bringing the subject up to no avail; it always ends with Xie Lian laughing it off. Finally, Hua Cheng lets it be.

A month passes. The much-awaited end of a week-long business trip in Monaco finds Hua Cheng meeting up with Xie Lian for dinner at a quaint fusion-style restaurant. If Hua Cheng thought Xie Lian was upset before, that’s nothing compared to now. Xie Lian looks pale, his eyes red-rimmed as if he cried earlier. Hua Cheng can feel his stomach drop. Are his worst fears about to come true?

They’re both silent until the food is served. Halfway through his meal of nori pork with rice, Xie Lian drops the bomb.

“San Lang, I’m pregnant,” he says.

Pregnant. Hua Cheng’s world spins. Xie Lian is pregnant. Out of all the things he expected would happen, this reveal didn’t even break the top ten. He braced himself for only the worst because if Xie Lian had said they weren’t working out, he thought it might cushion the sting of heartbreak. But for Xie Lian to admit he’s pregnant, that he’s carrying their child, instead of any of the possible alternatives, it would be a lie to say he doesn’t feel a sense of relief.

Xie Lian doesn’t speak any more on the matter until they get home. And when they do—

Xie Lian crumbles in Hua Cheng’s arms and cries.

Hua Cheng holds Xie Lian through it—pats down Xie Lian’s hair and kisses his temple. What did Hua Cheng expect? He was the one who swapped Xie Lian’s pills right before his heat, even if he didn’t know Xie Lian was about to have one. There was always going to be a chance Xie Lian would end up pregnant from their coupling.

“San Lang, you’re not mad or disappointed, are you?” Xie Lian croaks out. He had been so careful, so diligent with the birth control. How could this have happened?

Mad. Disappointed. Hua Cheng stares. How could Hua Cheng ever feel either of the two? He’s overjoyed, ecstatic about this turn of events. They’re going to have a baby born out of their love. Hua Cheng reassures Xie Lian that his fears were unfounded. He lets Xie Lian know that he already loves and cherishes their unborn child, and that he’ll care for both of them with all his heart.

Hua Cheng still feels guilty because this was probably his fault, but what happened, happened. The only thing he can do is to take responsibility for Xie Lian and the baby. That, and admit what he did, but he doesn’t think Xie Lian needs to hear that right now. Not when he’s at his most vulnerable.

Or, at least that’s the excuse Hua Cheng wants to keep giving himself, scared of the fallout if he were to ever reveal the truth.

The high and happiness he feels from learning of Xie Lian’s pregnancy is dampened by those very thoughts as time passes and Xie Lian’s belly swells. Some nights he wakes up to the dull ache of the skin around his right eye, and the images of his mother’s face resurface. Other nights, they’re accompanied by words, but those are rarer…and much harder to forget.

Is Hua Cheng going to live his life carrying that kind of burden? Letting Xie Lian believe he was at fault for not being careful enough with the birth control? Xie Lian is tied to him now; if he ever wanted to leave, he will never admit it anymore for the sake of their child. That’s how Xie Lian is as a person. He always puts others first. And it’s not that Hua Cheng doubts Xie Lian’s love for him; it’s the fact Hua Cheng wants Xie Lian to love himself, too, to make decisions centred around what he desires most, first and foremost. Love isn’t supposed to be selfish. It’s supposed to be about a reciprocal give-and-take.

The right thing to do is to tell Xie Lian the truth. Otherwise, how can Hua Cheng live with himself, knowing he may or may not have trapped Xie Lian into being with him.

They’re in the penthouse when it happens. Xie Lian moved in with Hua Cheng because they both agreed it was time. They’re in bed together, prepared to fall asleep, when Hua Cheng asks Xie Lian if they could talk.

Xie Lian’s breathing audibly hitches, like he senses what Hua Cheng is about to say is serious.

Hua Cheng begins. He tells Xie Lian what he’s been thinking of the past few months, tells Xie Lian about the night he first helped Xie Lian through his pure heat. He talks to Xie Lian about the pills. He talks to Xie Lian about swapping them, about how he’d wanted to take it back but he felt it was “too late”.

Xie Lian’s face remains carefully neutral but his eyes are attentive. That’s how Hua Cheng knows he’s clinging to every word.

By the end of it, Hua Cheng is fully prepared for Xie Lian to look at him in disgust. To look at him with disappointment or anger or a combination of both. This is the price he paid for loving a monster like Hua Cheng: having his trust broken, and being unable to live a peaceful, normal life. Just yesterday they had to evacuate the shopping plaza they like to frequent all because some low-level newbie assassin confused Hua Cheng for the mark he was really targeting. (Hua Cheng had him brutally murdered, of course.)

But instead of any of the reactions Hua Cheng predicted, Xie Lian blushes. Blushes. Like Hua Cheng whispered in his ear a dirty joke.

“San Lang, I wasn’t on birth control at all,” he says quietly.

Hua Cheng waits for Xie Lian to explain. Xie Lian continues.

“I wanted to spend my heat with you, without any suppressants, because I felt like I was ready to take our relationship to the next step. I was supposed to tell you about the birth control thing, but my heat set in without warning, maybe because I hadn’t had a real one in ages and I’d eased off on my suppressants without consulting my doctor first. And then you came in the room, and well, this happened.” He laughs shakily as he cradles his baby bump. “I know it was because you love me and always think of me, but I couldn’t help but feel rejected when you didn’t give me a mark. I tried to act rational about it, but my instincts…they just made me feel distraught and emotional. Like you didn’t want me enough to be yours. So when I told you I was pregnant, I’m being honest when I say I was scared. Scared that you’d be disappointed because it wasn’t the right time, scared that I’d made a huge mistake. I was sad because you seemed sad. Distracted.”

All this time, Hua Cheng thought of things exclusively from his perspective without bothering to really understand why Xie Lian was acting the way he did. Never in his wildest dreams could Hua Cheng have imagined the real reason for Xie Lian’s actions and moods—because he wanted it as much as Hua Cheng.

Xie Lian wants their baby. Xie Lian wants a life with Hua Cheng. Xie Lian wants to be his.

Is Hua Cheng dreaming?

“I’m sorry that I hurt you, gege,” Hua Cheng says softly. “If only I’d known how you really felt, I’d have done things differently.”

“I want to apologize, too, that I wasn’t more transparent. I should’ve told you my intentions from the very beginning. It’s just—I was scared, too. It’s messed up, I know.”

Messed up. If Xie Lian is messed up, then Hua Cheng is beyond the pale. How could they be this perfect for each other?

“Marry me, gege,” Hua Cheng says suddenly, without hesitation. He meant to ask this much earlier on, but the timing was never right. “I love you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Marry me.”

He knows he can’t give Xie Lian the gilded dream of a life amongst swaying wheat fields, but what he can give is all that he is, thorns and all. Xie Lian tells him he doesn’t care about it, he knows what he’s in for, and that he’ll be with Hua Cheng forever, whether it be in life or death. He also doesn’t care about his riches, diamonds, or marble halls, he just wants Hua Cheng.

Xie Lian slips out of his robes and moves to straddle Hua Cheng’s lap. Naked and backlit by moonlight, he’s a divine entity Hua Cheng would craft ten thousand statues of. In another life, that’s what they might have been. A god and his most devoted believer.

“Make me yours, San Lang. Make me yours,” Xie Lian murmurs, kissing Hua Cheng’s neck.

Carefully, Hua Cheng gets Xie Lian onto his knees and runs his mouth over the space between his shoulder blades. Xie Lian is a work of art he’ll take all the time in the world to savour.

Once he bond marks Xie Lian, it will be a reminder of how this love—their love—is permanent in a world of uncertainty.

“Is Hong-er asleep?”

Hua Cheng looks down at the baby in his arms, who is very much awake. He sighs. He really thought the crying would’ve tired him out by now.

As soon as Xie Lian enters the kitchen, Hong-er babbles and starts shaking the rattler in his tiny hand. Hua Cheng’s heart squeezes in fondness.

“You missed your papa, didn’t you?” he coos, kissing his son’s forehead.

Hong-er whacks his face with the rattler. Hua Cheng pretends to wince.

They were woken up in the early hours of the morning by the sounds of the baby monitor alarming them. They haven’t gone back to sleep since then. Since Xie Lian has taken a week off from work, he’ll be taking care of Hong-er, while Hua Cheng is stuck with the menial task of overseeing trade jurisdiction reports when all he wants is to be with his family.

Xie Lian puts on some music because music always calms Hong-er down and starts making breakfast. Hua Cheng should change into his suit but Hong-er refuses to be put into his high-chair. Hua Cheng supposes it’ll be okay if he runs a little late. There’ll come a day when he won’t be able to hold Hong-er like this anymore, and the thought is bittersweet.

Hua Cheng looks at his son’s face and takes in the crimson of his eyes. His parents saw a demon in Hua Cheng, but Hua Cheng sees only an angel.

“Gege, he’s so cute, let’s make another one,” Hua Cheng says.

Xie Lian blushes and accidentally drops a pan. Then he murmurs a flustered excuse about Hua Cheng distracting him. Well, Hua Cheng will do anything to have a full view of Xie Lian’s ass.

Once breakfast is done cooking, Xie Lian finally manages to convince Hong-er to settle down in his high-chair. But not without some difficulties.

They start eating in comfortable silence. Xie Lian gets a faraway look in his eyes as he chews on his food, absently rubbing at the scar below his jaw. Hua Cheng never asked him about it, but Xie Lian caught him staring at it recently when they were watching a movie about a hitman and his teenage protegee.

“Someday, I’ll tell you everything, San Lang,” he murmured sleepily, yawning. “Someday.”

He was obviously referencing his past. Hua Cheng won’t press; he’ll let Xie Lian say it all in due time.

“…like a river flows, surely to the sea. Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be…”

Eventually, this song ends. Another takes its place.

Hua Cheng hates that he has to leave for work soon. He dresses up quickly and with great reluctance. Then he looks out the window.

Outside, dark clouds have begun to gather in the distance. But with the warmth his family gives him, Hua Cheng will be able to weather any storm.