Chapter Text
The following week turned into pure torment. Every time the phone rang, every time his office door swung open, every time Xie Lian spotted the gray-haired woman walking down Chongqing’s dusty sidewalk, he felt his strength slip away. He stopped eating and resting properly. By Friday morning, he looked five years older and five pounds lighter.
The Monetary Policy Committee met in the early hours. At ten o’clock, the report hit the bank, the new yuan rate was set, and it was prepped for release. He waited patiently for Quan Yizhen to step away from his desk and head to the men’s restroom, part of his daily pre-lunch routine. Then Xie Lian slipped into Quan Yizhen’s office. With shaky fingers, he typed the password Quan Yizhen had carelessly jotted down weeks earlier, grabbed the committee’s bulletin, and scanned it fast.
“It should’ve been harder,” he thought as he slipped back to his own office minutes later. Breaking the law, wrecking his life, throwing away the last two years and some months of work should’ve taken more effort. But with a few keystrokes, it was done. The plan, locked in, kicked off when he moved Jun Wu’s funds to a freshly made account.
The weight of what he’d done crashed into him right after. He bolted to the bathroom and threw up the only thing he’d had in days—the jasmine tea he’d sipped at dawn—choking and coughing until nothing was left. Sitting weakly on the bathroom floor, he pressed his forehead against the toilet’s cold porcelain edge. Gathering more willpower than he ever thought he’d need, he finally stood and stumbled to the sink.
“I look like a worn-out ghost,” he thought, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Who was this haunted man staring back, his eyes so empty and dull?
Xie Lian tore his gaze from the image and started scrubbing his hands. He couldn’t wash his mind clean, though. Grabbing a towel, he dried his fingers and dabbed the damp cloth lightly on his forehead.
With that move, he’d just traded his future to keep his kids safe. “The ultimate irony,” he thought, shaking his head. To protect them, he’d had to give up any shot at being with them again, at living a normal life, at being the father he’d always wanted to be. He’d tossed it all away, and no one would ever get why. No one except Hua Cheng.
He gripped the sink’s edge and swayed a little. Hua Cheng’s life was on the line too, and though he knew he should hate him for what he’d done, he couldn’t. In fact, he understood him. That didn’t mean he could forgive him, though. He’d used him, and nothing would ever make that okay.
Nothing.
He wiped the towel across his face again, dropped it in the sink, and reached into his pocket for the lip balm he’d brought. The streak of color he swiped on looked too loud, too bold under the fluorescent light.
He rubbed it off and tried again, but it still came out the same. “A dressed-up corpse would look better,” he thought.
What did it matter? He left the bathroom, figuring the look actually fit. “Aren’t I just a walking dead man now?”
He went straight to his desk, grabbed his backpack, and told Feng Xin he was heading out.
“I’ll see you Monday,” he said to the secretary.
Xie Lian stared at the guy for a few seconds, then turned and left the lobby without another word. “I’ll see you Monday?” He didn’t believe that’d happen.
In a nauseous daze, he hailed the first taxi he saw. When he got home, he stepped inside and headed to the living room. He only paused once—at the dresser right by the room’s entrance. He opened the top drawer and reached in, his trembling hands clutching the package he’d hidden there days ago.
Sitting in the first chair he found, he waited. He was sure it wouldn’t take long.
(…)
Behind the wheel of a metallic dark-gray I-PACE parked outside the bank, Hua Cheng straightened up when he saw Xie Lian step out. He checked his watch, surprised. It was early—barely past noon. Xie Lian never left work before six. “Is it finally happening?”
The week before, he’d literally watched Xie Lian waste away. He’d dropped noticeable weight, and the circles under his eyes kept getting darker. He looked like a ghost as he walked down the sidewalk and raised a hand for a taxi. His dark tangzhuang hung on him like a bad fit, and his skin had a grayish tint.
He hadn’t tried talking to him. Xie Lian had made it crystal clear he didn’t want him around, but that wasn’t how this would end. Hua Cheng wouldn’t let it finish like that. Not after realizing he loved him, even though he knew he shouldn’t.
At first, he’d thought about storming Jun Wu’s place and facing him—preferably with a loaded gun. After cooling off, he’d realized that’d feel good but wouldn’t work. The guy had already set something in motion, and if Hua Cheng took him out, no one could predict how it’d play out. He couldn’t confront him head-on right now. Instead, he’d decided to stick close to Xie Lian. Jun Wu would show up eventually, and if Hua Cheng stayed nearby, he’d keep him safe.
Xie Lian didn’t know it, but Hua Cheng had tracked his every move since leaving his house the week before. He’d even slept in the car parked outside his place at night, switching rental cars daily so Xie Lian wouldn’t spot the same one.
When Jun Wu showed up, Hua Cheng would be ready.
He shifted the Jaguar into gear and merged into traffic, pulling away from the bank to tail the taxi. Chongqing’s streets were already packed, and he struggled to keep it in sight. Soon, the taxi headed toward Xie Lian’s residential area, and Hua Cheng hung back a bit more. Xie Lian wouldn’t recognize the rental he was driving, but the extra distance made sure he wouldn’t notice him.
(…)
Xie Lian stepped out as soon as the taxi stopped, paying the driver through the window before turning and heading up the sidewalk. Parking farther down the street, Hua Cheng watched him walk toward the gate, a hollow ache of loss hitting him hard.
Darkness came early, a spring storm brewing over the mountains. Under the cover of the cloudy sky, Hua Cheng got out of the car an hour later, reaching Xie Lian’s neighbor’s place in seconds. In the quiet, he scanned the area, then leaped straight up, his fingers just catching the edge of the high concrete wall. He climbed to the top, let go, and landed in the yard with a muffled thud. He grunted, then rolled to his feet.
The neighbors were gone; he’d seen them load their car the day before with enough luggage for a month. The live-in maid had waved goodbye, and two minutes after they left, she’d taken off too. The place was empty.
Moving quietly through the thick bushes along the wall’s edge, Hua Cheng made his way to the back of the garden.
His plan was simple: wait in Xie Lian’s yard. It was the only way to spot Jun Wu if he came in from the back—and he would. Jun Wu never went at anything straight. The frustration of not acting sooner was eating him alive.
In the wall splitting the two properties, a row of decorative cutouts with iron grilles had been carved. Hua Cheng had noticed them the night Xie Lian took him to the yard, but only now did he see how clearly they showed the whole house from this angle. Peering through the cutout closest to the street, he could see right into the living room. He stopped short and locked his gaze.
There he was, sitting in the room.
His breath hissed in the damp, silent air, the sound as fast as his heartbeat. Xie Lian, though, looked like a statue, stiff and cold. He didn’t move, his blinking the only sign of life. In his lap, his laced fingers might’ve been holding something, but Hua Cheng couldn’t tell what.
His throat burned, and suddenly he wanted to climb the wall and yell that he was there, that nothing would make him leave. He wanted to say he was sorry.
He wanted to tell him he loved him.Raising his hands, Hua Cheng gripped the filigree grate. The metal bars framed Xie Lian like he was in a prison, and he shivered as the image sank into his mind.
A second later, something heavy slammed into the side of his head. Hua Cheng crumpled to the grass, the night spinning around him.
(…)
The cat nearby let out a shrill meow, and Xie Lian flinched, the heavy gun nearly slipping from his lap. He caught it just in time, his fingers closing around it by reflex, his chewed nails digging into the rubber grip, leaving crescent marks that betrayed his nerves. The animal often yowled for no reason. As jarring as the sound was, it didn’t mean anything.
“Calm down,” he told himself, leaning back in the chair, his shoulders tight and stiff. He rolled his muscles one way, then the other, starting deep breaths, but then he froze.
Someone was in his house’s hallway. The soft step and matching creak of the floorboard hit his heart like a drum.
The cat’s meow had covered the entry. His pulse skipped when he heard it again, louder this time.
He was on his feet when Jun Wu appeared in the doorway. They locked eyes for five seconds, Jun Wu’s gaze cold and furious, while Xie Lian held his with fierce resolve.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Xie Lian didn’t give him the chance.
He raised the gun and fired.
Shockingly, he missed. With the deafening shot still ringing through the room, Jun Wu recovered with a shout and lunged at him. Before he could shoot again, Jun Wu was on him.
He grabbed the barrel and yanked the gun from his hands. A sick wave of fear washed over Xie Lian as he felt it slip away.
“What are you trying to do with this?” Jun Wu held the pistol, keeping it out of reach. “You almost killed me!”
“That was the point!” His chest heaved, his breathing ragged. “Did you think I’d let you blackmail me, threaten my kids, ruin my life, and just walk away?”
“Ruin your life? What do you call what you did to me?” He panted from the effort of disarming him, but his eyes stayed so cold, so icy, that Xie Lian felt a chill crawl down his spine. If he needed proof, there it was. Jun Wu knew what he’d done.
“I can’t be blamed for market swings,” Xie Lian said.
Jun Wu shook his head like an angry bull.
“The market didn’t swing. You traded those funds wrong on purpose. You bought dollars when you should’ve bought yuan. You knew what was happening and went the opposite way deliberately.”
“Not according to the change order you signed. You told me to buy dollars. I’ve got it on record.” He stared him down, trembling inside.
Jun Wu’s eyes narrowed into slits of rage.
“I didn’t sign that order, and you know it.”
“Maybe I do,” Xie Lian said slowly, “but no one else will. I’ve got a signed order, and it’s locked away safe in my desk.”
His words filled the space between them, cutting through the tense silence. After a moment, Jun Wu shook his head, a flicker close to admiration glinting in his icy stare.
“You set this up, didn’t you? The trade, my anger… all of it.” He raised the gun, the metal catching the light, gleaming dangerously. “You were going to tell the police I was pissed about the trade and broke in here. That you took me out in self-defense.” He shook his head again. “I’d almost be impressed, Xie Lian, except it didn’t quite work out like you planned, right?”
“The night’s not over,” he shot back.
“That’s the first true thing you’ve said tonight.” Jun Wu flashed a smile, and something cold and downright terrifying slid down Xie Lian’s back. Refusing to let him see his fear, he stood rigid and held his gaze.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Jun Wu said, nodding at the gun before tossing it onto the sofa, clearly with other plans. “Time to end this charade.”
(…)
He didn’t stay out for even a second; the smell of earth snapped him back fast. Rolling and rising in one smooth move, Hua Cheng jumped back into the fight, his fist landing solid on the first swing.
A grunt sounded, followed by a rush of air past his jaw as a punch came his way. The blow came too late to connect, and Hua Cheng dodged on instinct. He was facing a shadow, but that didn’t stop him.
Whoever it was wanted to block him, and Hua Cheng couldn’t let that happen. He faked left and struck right. The hit landed again, and the dark outline of a man stumbled back. Hua Cheng lunged at his attacker and swung blind, his knuckles scraping a rough, bearded jaw over and over. The guy yelled and threw his arms up, but it was a weak try at shielding himself. Hua Cheng kept pounding until his fist shone wet in the dark and the other guy groaned, curling into a ball on the grass at his feet.
Hua Cheng stepped back, his chest heaving, his breaths loud and raw in the dark garden. He took three deep pulls of air, then stood and hauled the guy up by the collar. Dragging him to the front of the yard, he recognized him instantly.
It was Jun Wu’s goon, the same one who’d planted the bug in Xie Lian’s backpack. Hua Cheng let out a sharp curse.
“I should’ve taken you out when I had the chance.” He spun the guy around and started patting him down.
In his pocket, he found an old pistol, a replacement for the one Hua Cheng had taken before. With another curse, he pulled the gun and tucked it into his waistband.
“What’s this for?” he snapped.
The second his head cleared, Hua Cheng got it—no answer needed. Jun Wu had brought the guy as backup in case someone unexpected showed up at Xie Lian’s place.
Someone like Hua Cheng. A surge of fury ripped through him as the realization sank in.
The goon caught the look on Hua Cheng’s face, and his own crumpled in panic. He shouted and clawed at Hua Cheng’s fingers on his collar, but he wasn’t fast enough.
Clenching his fist, Hua Cheng drew back and slammed a hard punch into the guy’s jaw, pouring all the strength and rage he’d saved for Jun Wu into it. The crack rang out loud, pain shooting up Hua Cheng’s arm to his shoulder. He barely felt it. The goon’s body went limp instantly, and Hua Cheng let him drop like dead weight. He didn’t look back as he ran.
(…)
Jun Wu’s words took a moment to sink in. When they did, Xie Lian started shaking his head and backing away. Jun Wu stepped toward him and grabbed his elbow, his fingers digging into his flesh. He yanked him into the hallway and said roughly, “You don’t have a choice. You’re out of moves.”
Xie Lian fought, thrashing to break free, but it was no use. Jun Wu was strong and pissed. Dragging him to the stairs, he started climbing, and Xie Lian had to follow or fall and get pulled. They hit the top, and Jun Wu turned right, shoving him into his bedroom. He pushed him inside and slammed the door shut, the finality of it making him falter.
“Get in there,” Jun Wu ordered, tilting his head toward the bathroom.
Xie Lian didn’t budge, and this time, when Jun Wu grabbed him, it was even rougher. His fingers locked around his arm with bruising force, and with a curse, he shoved him into the bathroom, throwing him onto the hard tile floor as they entered. Xie Lian watched as Jun Wu reached into his pocket.
When he pulled his hand out, he held a small plastic bottle. He tossed it at him, and Xie Lian threw his hands up to block, catching it at the last second.
It was a common pill bottle, the kind you’d grab from the corner pharmacy. Like in a lot of Chongqing shops, you could walk in and buy whatever—no prescription needed most of the time. The label was in Chinese, but one word jumped out at Xie Lian’s panicked eyes: Diazepam.
From his coat pocket, Jun Wu pulled another bottle, and Xie Lian knew it before it even flew his way. He let the pills drop into his lap and caught the second one midair. It was baijiu. He stared at him, baffled.
“You’ve been showing clear signs of depression,” Jun Wu said. “Everyone at the office noticed your weight loss, the bags under your eyes, the mistakes you’ve been making. They didn’t know why, but tomorrow, when the police dig into it, they’ll say you weren’t yourself.”
His eyes glinted in the dim light, and his voice dropped lower.
“Your old partner will back it all up. He knows how unstable you’ve been lately. The drugs and booze won’t shock him one bit.” Jun Wu shook his head. “It’ll be a shame, but everyone will get it, since you had a little issue before. You didn’t have a choice. You missed your kids and hated your job. Suicide was your only way out.”
After the shock of his words faded, a cold, stark image crept into Xie Lian’s mind, burrowing in like a nasty bug, dragging all the pain, all the horror, all the truth he’d tried to dodge with it. For one second, he seriously considered going along. It’d all be over, right? Facing what he’d done, the impossibility of having his kids, even Hua Cheng’s betrayal—it’d all stay behind, part of his past.
He’d be dead; he wouldn’t care.
Then he thought again, and what his death would mean hit him. It’d mean Jun Wu won. And no one but Hua Cheng would know the truth. Before long, he’d probably be dead too. Jun Wu would find a way to take him out or, worse, lock him up again, and then he’d be free to do whatever he wanted.
Suddenly, Xie Lian got how deep Hua Cheng’s drive to destroy this evil man ran. If he were in his shoes, he’d be just as set on it. He’d have used Hua Cheng like Hua Cheng used him if it meant stopping Jun Wu. He closed his eyes and forgave Hua Cheng, letting him off the hook and admitting he loved him—even if he’d never know it.
“Drink, Xie Lian. Swallow the pills,” Jun Wu said, almost gentle. “All of them.”
Xie Lian locked eyes with him. For a moment, the peace of death tempted him, but pictures of Xie Chen and Xie Li flashed in his head.
“Only when hell freezes over,” he said.
Jun Wu waited, like he was weighing his next move, then suddenly he was on him. In a blink, he popped both bottles open and grabbed Xie Lian’s jaw with one hand. Pinching his nose shut with the other, he cut off his air. Xie Lian held out as long as he could, his vision going dark, until instinct kicked in and he opened his mouth to breathe.
Right away, Jun Wu dumped the pills and liquid in, clamping his mouth shut and holding his face tight.
“Swallow, you bastard,” he ordered, all pretense gone. He shook his face. “Now!”
Gagging and choking, Xie Lian thrashed hard, but after a few seconds, the inevitable happened. He swallowed. Then swallowed again. The baijiu burned, its sharp taste mixing with the pills and starting to break them down. Jun Wu kept his jaw locked, and Xie Lian kept fighting. In a moment, it was over, and he let go.
Still on all fours and coughing uselessly, Xie Lian crawled to the far corner, his breathing loud and uneven. He opened his mouth and tried to spit it out. Nothing was left, though.
He’d swallowed it all. He lifted his head, his stomach churning. He wanted to curse him, scream, attack him like he’d planned, but all he could do was stare at him blankly.
Jun Wu crossed his arms and leaned against the wall with a casual calm, waiting for him to go under.
(…)
Despite everything, some piece of the man Hua Cheng used to be still hung on inside him. He knew it because he’d never meant to kill Jun Wu. But as he climbed the wall between the two houses and ran toward Xie Lian’s place, that last shred of his old self faded. Rage and pent-up frustration flooded him, and all he could think was one thing: seeing Jun Wu dead. Taking his money or ruining his life wasn’t enough anymore. Hua Cheng wanted him gone. Preferably by his own hands.
The front door was locked. With a curse, Hua Cheng spun around and ran to the back. Someone had already busted the patio door open. He stepped inside, his heart pounding so hard he worried it’d give him away. He paused and forced himself to listen.
There was nothing but silence until a muffled conversation hit his ears, faint but definitely there. He tilted his face to the ceiling, wishing he could see through the beams to the floor above. They were up there, but where? And what were they doing? Did Jun Wu have a gun?
It didn’t really matter. Hua Cheng glided through the house and up the stairs, pulling the goon’s old pistol from his waistband. Holding his breath, he stopped at the top, hand on the doorknob. He turned it slow, breathing a quiet thanks when it gave. He tensed, then flung the door open.
The bedroom was empty.
But from the bathroom next door, the muffled sound of voices came through. He crossed the room, pausing again when he hit the bathroom door. Jun Wu’s smug voice, mixed with Xie Lian’s low, pleading tones, reached him and wrapped around him. It felt physical; he could feel it slide under the door and climb up to choke him.
Gripping the pistol, Hua Cheng threw his shoulder against the door, twisted the knob, and burst into the room.
(…)
Xie Lian screamed when the door flew open, but it was pure instinct, born from a survival reflex. His body and mind were already starting to split, the drugs kicking in. Sprawled in the corner, he fought to stay focused, blinking fast, but the man stumbling into the room moved too quick for him to track. Even Jun Wu’s voice, roaring in surprise, sounded like it came from a pit. Stretched out too, like a song played way too slow, the name he shouted didn’t register in Xie Lian’s foggy brain.
The two figures grappled in the bathroom’s tight space, their curses and grunts signaling the fight’s intensity. Xie Lian ordered his legs and arms to get him up and out of this hell, but they wouldn’t listen. It was all he could do to lift his head off the cold tile floor. A second later, the two men rolled toward him, locked in a struggle, spinning like one unit.
He tried to dodge the inevitable, but he just couldn’t move.
The two heavy bodies crashed into his limp one. He blinked and yelled, one of their knees slamming into his stomach.
The air rushed out of him in a whoosh, and the hit, the pain that followed, cleared his mind for just a moment. Hua Cheng came into focus. He was on top of Jun Wu, fighting to pin him, a gun in his hand inches from his face. Xie Lian strained to figure out where the gun came from—hadn’t Jun Wu left it downstairs? Before he could think it through, Hua Cheng lifted Jun Wu’s wrist and smashed it against the tile, the sickening crack of bone breaking cutting through their heaving breaths.
“Grab the gun,” Hua Cheng shouted. “Grab it, Xie Lian! Take it and shoot him!”
Their eyes met, but Xie Lian couldn’t have held the gun, let alone fired it straight. In another second, the two men rolled away from him. Instead of moving inches, it felt like miles. Stuck, he watched them pull away, but before they did, he caught the look in Hua Cheng’s wild eyes. Pure disbelief. He didn’t get why Xie Lian wouldn’t help. He didn’t know it was because he couldn’t. He thought it was because he wouldn’t.
That was his last clear thought. Xie Lian’s eyes rolled back, and everything else faded.
(…)
Xie Lian’s refusal stunned him, but Hua Cheng’s instincts took over and saved him from the distraction. He slammed Jun Wu’s busted wrist against the tile again, the pistol caught between them, neither letting go. He should’ve shot him the second he opened the door, but he’d been too shocked seeing Xie Lian. Jun Wu had seized the moment and grabbed the gun.
Jun Wu’s knuckles were bloody and torn, but he still held on. Another smack against the tile, and this time something bigger broke. Hua Cheng heard the snap and took his shot. He hit Jun Wu’s wrist again, then twisted it.
The gun fell free. Unable to grab it himself, Hua Cheng did the next best thing. He elbowed the pistol, sending it spinning to a corner. He couldn’t reach it, but neither could Jun Wu.
Taking his chance to break loose, Jun Wu scrambled up.
His wrist hung useless in front of him, but he lunged forward anyway. Hua Cheng tracked his move with his eyes, his heart stopping as he saw what happened. The gun had lodged under the tub, caught by one of its old-fashioned legs. In a quick move, Jun Wu ducked down and snatched it with his good hand, spinning to fire.
Hua Cheng scanned for anything he could use as a weapon. Weirdly, he spotted a broom handle in a corner. He didn’t stop to question it; he grabbed it and gripped it with both hands. The shiny metal top sliced through the air with the force of his swing.
It cracked Jun Wu’s head, and as he staggered, Hua Cheng shoved him into the tub. His skull hit the edge with a dull thud.
The man dropped without a sound.
Hua Cheng spun to Xie Lian right away. He was curled in a corner, limbs splayed, body limp. Then he saw the empty bottles and got it. He lifted his head gently.
“Xie Lian? Love, can you hear me?”
His head lolled to the side, and Hua Cheng’s heart nearly stopped. He started shouting his name again, but then he caught the movement in his throat, the faint pulse at the base of his neck. Too slow to be okay, too weak to last. He scooped him up in his arms and ran from the room.
(…)
Two days later, it all felt like a dream—a distant nightmare. Xie Lian’s throat still burned from the medical aftermath, but that didn’t matter much. His kids were safe. He was alive.
And Jun Wu was dead.
The local police had been shockingly helpful. Xie Lian knew it was more thanks to He Xuan, Hua Cheng’s friend, and his pull than anything else. He Xuan had leaned on the consulate with proof of Jun Wu’s corruption, and it’d all smoothed out in a way that left him stunned.
Quan Yizhen was relieved to wrap it up without the bank’s name coming up. He didn’t know about Xie Lian’s scheming. He didn’t know he’d rigged Jun Wu’s account. He didn’t know he’d planned it all. Even Jun Wu’s death.
Now, he wondered what he’d been thinking. Had he really been ready to kill him? He’d fired, sure, but missed. Was it on purpose? He’d never know—and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
Sitting on the back patio, Xie Lian held the phone to his ear and closed his eyes, the sun warm and soothing on his face, the voices he heard even more so. Xie Chen rambled on about catching a fish, and Xie Li said something about a sandcastle and the princess inside it.
Xie Lian let them go on. He didn’t care if it made sense.
They were totally fine and thought they’d just had a great vacation in Sanya the week before. After another minute, Bai Wuxiang came on the line and shooed them off.
“Xie Lian, you okay? You get hurt bad?” Someone hearing him might think he cared; Xie Lian knew it meant the opposite. Bai Wuxiang would’ve been thrilled if he’d died, cutting him out of the picture.
“I’ll make it,” he said, his voice hoarse and rough like baijiu. Talking hurt, and as he spoke, he shifted, then winced. His whole body was bruised, black and blue everywhere he looked. Jun Wu’s last gift. “Just need a few days to rest, that’s all.”
“The guy who took out this Jun Wu. You know him well?”
“He’s a friend,” Xie Lian said, keeping it neutral.
Hua Cheng had come by a few times, but Xie Lian had been so out of it that Shi Qingxuan kept him away when he could. He’d heard their voices downstairs, though. Shi Qingxuan had filled him in on his hospital hours. Hua Cheng’s reply had been too quiet to catch. They hadn’t talked yet, but when they did, Xie Lian didn’t know what he’d say.
Bai Wuxiang cut into his thoughts, and the second he spoke, Xie Lian knew he was in trouble. He had that smug tone, the one he used when he thought he was in charge.
“Listen up, Xie Lian. I want you to know I’m seriously pissed about this mess. You put our kids in danger again, and I’m not letting it slide. I’ve already talked to the lawyers, by the way, and we’re looking at some kind of action.”
A tightness squeezed his heart, making it hard to breathe. It wasn’t from his injuries.
“Some kind of action? What’s that mean?”
“It means we know you’re slipping back into old habits. You’re being reckless and not thinking about the kids’ well-being.” He took a self-important breath, dragging it out. “It means I’ll have to step in again, like I did before.”
Through the fear, Xie Lian heard him. He wasn’t shocked by his reaction, but instead of the usual defeat that hit when Bai Wuxiang talked like this, a new feeling surged up. Anger.
Full-on, absolute anger.
His fury built, and when Bai Wuxiang finally paused, he spoke through gritted teeth, “I handled this the best way I could, and frankly, I did a hell of a lot better than you ever would’ve. If you think you’ll use this against me, you and your lawyers are in for a surprise.”
He made a scoffing noise.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Xie Lian. You screwed up again, and the judge will see that clear as day, like last time.”
“I don’t think so,” Xie Lian said.
“I don’t think so,” Bai Wuxiang mocked, pitching his voice higher. “And what exactly makes you think that, Xie Lian? Nothing’s changed, you know.”
“You’re wrong,” he shot back, his voice a whisper. “I’ve changed. I’m not the same guy you talked to last time, and I’m done putting up with your games.”
Bai Wuxiang started to fire back, but Xie Lian didn’t let him finish. His whole life, he’d gotten what he wanted with his name, his family, his money, but at his core, he had nothing. No guts, no heart, no strength. None of the stuff Hua Cheng had, Xie Lian realized. None of what he needed.
Fueled by a sudden resolve, he spoke again, his voice dark and rough, “I made the biggest mistake of my life letting you take my kids and kick me out of Russia. I don’t know what I thought I was doing, but I can tell you one thing: I never should’ve let you get away with it. And you won’t again, that I can promise.”
“You’re full of—”
“I’m coming home, Bai Wuxiang.” He straightened up, ignoring the pain shooting through him. “I’m coming home, and I’m fighting for my kids, and I’ll win, because this time I’ve got help. I won’t be alone, so don’t think your usual tricks will work anymore.”
He didn’t let him answer. With his heart racing and hands shaking, Xie Lian hit the end button with a firm click, a righteous courage flooding him. He’d beat Bai Wuxiang. He’d beat him!
Right as that thought hit, he heard footsteps coming up the sidewalk.
Still on edge, he tensed, then went even stiffer when he saw who it was.
Hua Cheng stopped at the gate, wearing a sharp high-collar tangzhuang with white pankou clasps, a subtle green-and-white bamboo embroidery on the chest, matching loose black pants, casual shoes, and no socks. The afternoon sun gleamed off his braided black hair. He looked more striking and commanding than ever, and a wave of raw want hit Xie Lian when their dark eyes met. But he noticed something different about Hua Cheng right away.
The tightness around his eyes was gone, his stance looser, his body language totally different from before. His hands hung open at his sides, no clenched fists; his walk as he came closer was smooth. The only thing still there from before was his intensity—that sharp buzz of energy that always clung to him—but even that had a different feel.
Then Xie Lian got why. He was looking at the man Hua Cheng used to be. The guy he’d been years ago, before they’d both been shaped by the pain they carried now.
Hua Cheng reached the gate and unlatched it—the hinge fixed now—closing it behind him before walking up to where Xie Lian sat. He stopped a few steps from his wheelchair, the space between them meaning more to Xie Lian than it should’ve. He tried to read his face but gave up.
“Anh thế nào, anh yêu?”
It was the first time he’d heard him speak Vietnamese so softly, Xie Lian realized with a jolt. The accent was rich, and he rolled the words with an almost poetic rhythm.
In the warm afternoon silence, everything felt paused. The only sound between them was the hum of insects working around the lotus flower bushes.
“How are you, love?” he repeated, switching to Mandarin.
“I’m okay.” Taking a deep breath and risking more, he met his dark gaze. “Now that you’re here.”
Hua Cheng closed the gap between them in a heartbeat. Kneeling on the patio beside his chair, he took Xie Lian’s hand in his.
“Is that for real?”
“Totally.” Xie Lian squeezed his fingers. He couldn’t grip as hard as he wanted, but he was sure Hua Cheng got the message. “You saved my life, San Lang. I can never pay you back for that.”
Above his stormy gaze, his brows furrowed.
“Is that the only reason?”
“It’s enough.”
He shook his head.
“Not for me. I need more than that from you.”
“Then how about this?” Xie Lian leaned toward him and cupped his face with both hands, his fingertips brushing him. Hua Cheng reacted on instinct, leaning in. His eyes locked on his, and Xie Lian kissed him. Deeply.
When he finally pulled back, Xie Lian was more certain than ever he was doing the right thing. He just hoped Hua Cheng felt the same. Whether he did or not, Xie Lian had already decided he had to try. It was time to start living his life in the now, not stuck in the past.
“Is that reason enough for you?”
With his face inches from his, Hua Cheng spoke softly and caught him off guard.
“No, forgive me. There’s only one answer that’ll do for me. As amazing as your kisses are, I still need more.” Putting a hand on his neck, he rubbed his thumb at the base of his throat. The touch was so light he barely felt it, but it echoed deep inside him.
“I love you, my darling,” he said simply. “And I need to know you love me too. Can you do that, Xie Lian? After everything that’s happened between us?”
His heart pounded, but he answered carefully, not quite able to buy into the possibility in front of him.
“Maybe I should be the one asking that. I should’ve told you what Jun Wu was up to. If I’d just said that one thing, none of this would’ve happened.”
“I’m not sure I agree.” His eyes darkened even more. “I’ve had a lot of time the last few days to think it over. The way it ended was unavoidable.”
“What do you mean?”
His hand tightened on his own neck. Since he’d figured out the truth, the weight of it had started eating at him. Over the last two days—two brutal days—that thought had torn him up. Xie Lian was too good, too strong, too perfect to love someone like him. But he had to lay it out. One day, when he was just an old man looking back, the one thing he couldn’t stand would be remembering he hadn’t had the guts to take the chance.
“I thought all along I just wanted to ruin Jun Wu. Take his money and make his life hell, like he did mine. When I got here that night, I realized I wanted more.” His mouth tightened. “I wanted him dead, Xie Lian. I wanted to kill him, and I knew it going up those stairs.”
“San Lang, you’re not carrying that alone. I felt the same,” Xie Lian said.
Something in his voice made Hua Cheng pause and look at him. In Xie Lian’s emerald eyes, there was a depth of feeling he’d never seen before. It chilled him, but he got it for real. That didn’t change the facts, though.
Hua Cheng shook his head.
“Maybe, but not the same way I did, and you need to get that if we’re gonna move forward. What Jun Wu did changed me. I spent five years in prison. I’m not the guy I was.”
Xie Lian reached out and put a hand on his arm. One nail was bruised at the root. The knuckle was swollen and cut too. Lifting the finger to his mouth, Hua Cheng kissed it softly. Xie Lian spoke as his lips brushed his skin, and his heart stopped.
“You’re not who you were.”
Before he could answer, Xie Lian went on, “No one could stay the same after that. I’m not who I was a week ago either.” His voice held regret, even sadness, then steadied. “But the person you are now is the one I love. And always will.”
A feeling Hua Cheng never thought he’d get again swelled inside him. His throat burned with the sudden rush of it all.
“You sure?”
“Totally.” His eyes warmed. “I love you, and I think I’ve felt it since that day at the orphanage. Seeing you there, with all those kids, something shifted in me right then.” He paused. “But the trouble I had, with the pills and all that, it doesn’t bother you?”
“You had a problem and dealt with it. What’s there to worry about now?” Hua Cheng wrapped him in his arms in a possessive hug.
It was tender, but it said everything else that needed saying. He only pulled back when Xie Lian spoke again.
“There’s one more thing, though…”
“We can handle it. Whatever it is.”
“It’s my kids. They’ll always come first, San Lang, and that’s something you’ll have to live with. First, in this case, means I’m going back to Shanghai to fight for them. Nothing else matters to me until that’s settled.” His fingers tightened on his arm. “Can you wait?”
“I’ll go back with you,” he said right away. “I might not have a license anymore, but I’m still a lawyer. I could help you, if you want… if you’ll let me. I’ve got some solid contacts.”
Xie Lian’s eyes filled with tears. They spilled down his cheeks, and Hua Cheng reached out to wipe them away with his thumb. His offer was exactly what he’d hoped for when he talked to Bai Wuxiang, but he couldn’t have asked for it—Hua Cheng had to give it on his own, like he just did.
“You’d do that for me, San Lang?” he asked.
“I’d do anything for you, my beloved Xie Lian. You should know that by now.”
He nodded weakly.
“But you’ve got to do something for me in return.”
Xie Lian lifted his wet eyes to his and gripped his hands.
“Anything. Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”
“Marry me,” Hua Cheng said quietly. “Be my husband. Have my kids. Give me a life and love me forever.”
Xie Lian didn’t answer with words, but he didn’t need to. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to his. The kiss was as soft and sweet as the first time they’d come together. In its healing warmth, their past melted away, then vanished, the pain burned to ashes, the hurts forgiven. The future rose up in front of them.
THE END