Archive of Our Own

“Remember, you’re looking for a playable hand. Of cards,” Yibo adds as too many glassy gazes around the table look down at their fingers in astonishment. “If you think you have it, bet. If you don’t, it’s time to decide whether to bluff or fold.”

“I got it, I got it,” a young man whose name Yibo didn’t bother catching says, laying down his hand with a giggle. “All reds,” he says proudly, and Yibo stares at the fan of cards on the table. Jack of diamonds, three of hearts, five of hearts, seven of diamonds, ten of hearts. Yibo bites his tongue.

“Yeah, you’ve got it,” he says, giving up, and reaches out to gather up the deck to reshuffle. Poker was probably too ambitious for this crowd, at least with the amount of alcohol and other, more illicit substances flowing. Yibo brushes a lock of carefully styled hair away from his brow and sighs. He’s been to enough of these kinds of parties to know that his opportunities for a legitimate fleece are only going to get slimmer as the night wears on, as the partygoers get blitzed out of their minds. It’ll be fine for lifting a watch or a wallet, but where’s the style in that, where’s the challenge.

“Do the trick again,” the girl to his left insists as he starts to deal the next round. “That’s way more fun than this.” She flicks her fingers at the cards in front of her and Yibo sets on an easy, patient grin.

“You’ve seen it already. Aren’t you tired of it yet?” Nevertheless, he starts to gather the cards back up. He almost feels bad for pulling cheap card tricks on a crowd this stoned, but he knows how to cater to an audience.

“I haven’t seen it,” an old, familiar voice says from across the table, and Yibo feels the seconds crawl to a stop as he lifts his gaze.

Xiao Zhan stands at the far side of the table, wearing a sharp-edged blazer and an easy, confident smile. He fits in seamlessly with his casual, open collar and the rolled-up sleeves and the expertly trimmed hair; he looks like he belongs here, among the children of more wealth than Yibo has ever seen in his life, like he’s never seen the inside of a jail cell.

Yibo wonders faintly how long Xiao Zhan has been out. He wonders why he didn’t know.

“Yeah, come on, show him.” The chorus rings around the table, and Yibo blinks, sucking in a breath. The crowd of eyes is suddenly far more interested in Yibo’s “magic” than in learning anything he could teach them, and Yibo grins under the attention, looking down at the cards in his hands.

“All right,” he says, putting the deck on the table and cutting it. “All right, one more time.”

Xiao Zhan pulls up an empty chair as Yibo shuffles, and the others at the table shift to make room for him. Yibo fans the cards out facedown on the table, lifting his hands away.

“Pick a card, any card. Don’t show me,” he cautions as Xiao Zhan reaches out. “You can show them, if you like, just not me,” he adds generously, although the showmanship is all for the benefit of the onlookers who have started to gather around the table. Xiao Zhan knows this trick cold; Yibo can’t imagine what he thinks he’ll gain by goading Yibo into showing off some sleight-of-hand, but he’s curious enough to let Xiao Zhan play this scene through.

Xiao Zhan selects a card, drawing it across the table toward himself. He shows it to the girl on his left and the boy on his right, cupping the card in his hand as Yibo regathers the deck. The three across the table exchange solemn glances as if they’ve come to some agreement, and Yibo grins, reshuffling.

“You’ve all seen the card? You’ll remember what it is?” Three heads nod at him, although Yibo would guess that only one of them will actually remember the card in a moment or three. He cuts the deck with a dramatic flourish, eyes flicking to the bottom of the stack in his right hand. Ace of diamonds. Easy enough.

Yibo holds out the stack in his left hand, face down. “The card, please.” Xiao Zhan reaches out to place the card on top of the stack. His fingers drag against Yibo’s and they’re just as warm as Yibo remembers; Yibo’s breath catches but his hands are already moving, fitting the deck back together as Xiao Zhan sits back in his chair.

“Everyone saw the card? Everyone saw him put it back in? Good,” Yibo says, fanning the deck out face-up in front of him. “Now, quiet please.”

An expectant hush falls over the table as Yibo passes his hand over the spread of cards once, twice—and on the third pass he settles his fingers on the card just to the left of the ace of diamonds.

Yibo slides the two of hearts out of the spread and towards Xiao Zhan, meeting that expectant gaze. “Is this your card?”

Xiao Zhan sits back, smiling. “Yes,” he says, and the table erupts in cheers. Yibo grins, gathering up the cards again.

“I think that’s all for now,” he says, and a round of disappointment sounds in the excited chatter. Yibo holds up his hands. “I know, I know, you all love me; I’ll be back, I’m just going to get another drink.” He pushes his chair back, standing before he can change his mind or do something stupid like reach across the table and demand that Xiao Zhan tell him what he thinks he’s doing here.

One cold beer later and Yibo glances over his shoulder. Xiao Zhan’s seat is predictably empty; Yibo fights down the sour feeling in his gut and scans the room but is unsurprised when he doesn’t find that knowing gaze looking back at him. He could have been a dream, a contact-high hallucination except for—

Yibo looks down at the small card that had been slipped underneath the two of hearts. There’s just room enough for the address scrawled on the back, less than a ten-minute walk from here. No signature. Nothing to prove who it was, except for the handwriting Yibo knows almost better than his own.

Yibo doesn’t have to go. This is an invitation. Yibo doesn’t have to accept.

Except that the room seems less bright without Xiao Zhan in it, like he’d taken the oxygen with him when he left. Yibo remembers that feeling all too well.

Yibo folds the card in his hand, and sets his beer down.

The bar Yibo finds himself at is a little hole in the wall two left turns and an alley away from the fashionable address at which the party had been hosted. Yibo stares at the door for a long moment before pushing it open.

Xiao Zhan is in the back corner, slowly peeling the label off a bottle of beer. He looks up as Yibo approaches, his face breaking into a smile as wide and genuine as Yibo has ever seen on him. He shifts like he’s going to get up, then settles as Yibo slides in across the booth; this close Yibo can see something in his eyes that looks almost like relief, and it gives Yibo pause to think that Xiao Zhan had thought Yibo might not come.

Now that he’s sitting here across from him, Yibo can’t imagine not being here, can’t imagine a universe where he doesn’t come when Xiao Zhan calls.

Another beer is set on the table and Xiao Zhan nods his thanks to the bartender, who half-waves as he walks away. Yibo watches him go, then turns back to Xiao Zhan.

Now that he’s here, he doesn’t know what to say. He takes a long pull on his beer while he thinks about it. He’s dreamed of this moment a thousand times, it seems, since Xiao Zhan had gone away, and this could almost be one of them except for the flat taste of the beer and the way Xiao Zhan props his hand on his chin, smiling. Yibo’s dreams have never fully captured the amused curve of Xiao Zhan’s lips, and that’s what finally convinces Yibo this is real.

He sets the bottle on the table, but before one of the questions building behind his teeth can come spilling out—how long have you been out, why didn’t I know, what are you doing here—Xiao Zhan beats him to it.

“Fleecing rich kids, huh?” Xiao Zhan takes a sip from his own bottle, the smile turning into a smirk. “I like the hair, it suits you.”

Yibo shoves a reddish lock out of his eyes. “You’re not looking too bad yourself.” Xiao Zhan looks a little thinner in the face than the last time Yibo had seen him, but his smile is just as bright, his eyes just as hard to look away from as Yibo remembers. “For someone who’s supposed to be in prison.”

For some reason that just makes Xiao Zhan’s smile quirk up. “Early release,” he says, tapping his fingers against his bottle. “Forty-” he checks his watch. “Fifty-two hours ago, and counting.”

Yibo blows out a breath. Two days. “You could’ve called.” He would have made the trip.

Xiao Zhan’s brow crinkles minutely. “I didn’t want to bother you,” he demurs.

“So instead you crash my scene?” Yibo shakes his head, covering his smile with another drink. “Typical.”

“Please. You were so bored I could practically smell it,” Xiao Zhan says, folding his arms on the table and leaning over them.

“Yeah, well.” Yibo sets his bottle back on the table very carefully. “I figured it was best to lay low, after... after.”

Xiao Zhan’s gaze softens minutely. “Did you get much blowback?”

“Nah.” Nothing worth mentioning. “Not like going to prison,” Yibo says lightly.

Xiao Zhan hums. “So, do you like it? Lifting bracelets and wallets, teaching them how to play cards badly? How many nights do you run that lesson?”

Too many. “Do you have an alternative?” Yibo says, smiling tightly. Xiao Zhan sits back, satisfied, and Yibo pauses, the pieces clicking into place. “You do. You have a job in mind. That’s why you’re here.”

“I have a potential job in mind,” Xiao Zhan confirms, and Yibo struggles to pay attention over the surge in his stomach that he refuses to call disappointment. “And you must know I’d come to you first. Who else could I trust?”

Yibo feels his face warm and is grateful for the dim lighting in the bar. “Tell me,” he says.

“Are you in?” Xiao Zhan asks, and Yibo has to bite his tongue on the yes that wants to come out.

“Tell me,” he says again instead, and Xiao Zhan unfolds his arms, wrapping his fingers around his beer bottle.

“Do you remember our first job together?” Xiao Zhan asks, and Yibo snorts, fingers going to the buttons at his cuff.

“How could I forget,” he says dryly, shoving up his sleeve. “I still have the scar, see?”

Xiao Zhan winces, and his fingers twitch—then he settles again, rolling the bottle back and forth between his hands. “Honestly, I’m amazed you agreed to work with me again after that.”

“We made a good team,” Yibo said, buttoning up his cuff again. “We were outclassed, that’s all.” Two hopefuls against a team of well-funded professionals, all after the same well-guarded prize; with a few years’ perspective, Yibo can admit that they’d been lucky to make it out of that one.

Xiao Zhan smiles faintly. “We did make a good team. We do make a good team,” he corrects himself. “The Fenghuang diamond got away that night, but I’m not convinced we didn’t come out ahead anyway.”

Yibo ducks his head. “Flattery will get you...somewhere,” he decides, and Xiao Zhan laughs. “They say the Fenghuang diamond is cursed, anyway. Maybe we were better off than the poor bastards who ended up with it.”

Xiao Zhan sniffs. “Don’t tell me you believe that curse business. You didn’t then.”

“Everything that could go wrong on that job did,” Yibo counters.

“Except getting caught,” Xiao Zhan reminds him.

“No, that waited until our last job together,” Yibo says, and then wishes he hadn’t as Xiao Zhan’s smile goes stiff. “Anyway. Tell me about this new one.”

Xiao Zhan’s face does something complicated, and Yibo drags a hand over his mouth, feeling stupid for not putting it together sooner. “You want to steal the Fenghuang diamond. Again.”

“I want to steal the Fenghuang diamond,” Xiao Zhan confirms. “And this time, it’s going to work.”

“I can’t wait to hear this one,” Yibo says, but the old excitement is stirring in his veins. He takes a sip of beer to cover it. “Lay it on me.”

“The Taohuayuan estate is hosting a private auction,” Xiao Zhan says, eyes shining. “Very exclusive. The Fenghuang diamond is being put up by an anonymous party, going to the highest bidder.”

“Or whoever gets there first,” Yibo leans forward despite himself. “That’s a big job for two people.”

Xiao Zhan smiles, lifting a hand and counting off. “To do it right we’ll need a lightshow, a rootkit, an insider, and a hobbyist, just for starters. Probably a pretty face, too. We’ll want someone on the guest list.”

Yibo whistles. “That’s a large crew.”

"It is.” Xiao Zhan closes his fist and sets it on the table. “I’ve got some ideas, but my contacts are, ah, a little out of touch,” he says a little shamefacedly. “Do you know anyone? Anyone you would trust with this?”

Yibo takes a long pull on his beer and lets the word trust roll around in his gut. He knows what he would do for Xiao Zhan, what he would trust him with. He’s less sure about whom he would trust with Xiao Zhan.

“Tell me something first,” he says, setting his bottle back on the table. “Why this? Surely there are easier scores out there.”

“Like the socialite circuit?” Xiao Zhan prods lightly.

“Like the socialite circuit,” Yibo agrees, refusing to rise to the bait.

Xiao Zhan sits back on his side of the booth. “It’s not like you to be this cautious.”

Yibo smiles tiredly. “You were gone a long time, Zhan-ge. Maybe I grew up.”

Xiao Zhan cocks his head. “Is that a no?”

“Tell me why this one, why now, or it will be,” Yibo says quietly, and Xiao Zhan sighs, leaning forward. He flattens his hands on the table, looking down at the splay of his fingers.

“I had a lot of time to think,” he says slowly. “About how I let you down.”

Yibo blinks. “You didn’t—” he starts, but Xiao Zhan cuts him off.

“I did. Our last job was supposed to set us up for life, and instead it went worse than the first,” he says with a wry twist to his lips.

Yibo frowns. “That wasn’t your fault.”

Xiao Zhan glances up. “Wasn’t it? Never mind,” he says, waving his hand. “The point is, I need to—make things right, and this is my opportunity. Our opportunity,” he says with emphasis. “No more pickpocketing or card scams—you’re wasted on this crowd, Yibo, they don’t deserve you and I know you hate it. One last job. The biggest job. Don’t you miss it?”

Yibo does; and he misses this, misses Xiao Zhan’s confidence, both in himself and in Yibo. It’s easy to lean into that, to let it wrap him up, a warm blanket against the cold banality of Yibo’s daily life. “One last job, huh. And then what?”

Xiao Zhan grins, like he can hear the yes Yibo hasn’t said yet. “And then anything you want, Yibo. You name it, a cut of the Fenghuang diamond can buy it.”

Yibo almost calls him on that, but he knows what Xiao Zhan means, and it’s not Xiao Zhan’s fault that the thing Yibo wants most can’t be bought.

“All right,” he says, letting himself bask in Xiao Zhan’s triumphant grin. “I’m in. And yeah, I know some people, enough to get us started; but first, where are you staying?”

For the first time a hint of uncertainty crosses Xiao Zhan’s face, and then he turns it into a shrug, loose and casual and entirely false. “I’ll find a place,” he says.

Yibo sighs and shakes his head. “You’ll come home with me. I know a certain lady who will be very glad to see you.”

The lock on Yibo’s door snicks loudly as he opens it. Xiao Zhan hovers behind him, fingers plucking at the strap of his satchel as Yibo tries to remember the last time he’d swept the floors. Probably last week? It’s fine, Yibo tells himself as he pushes the door open. It’s just Xiao Zhan.

“Do you think she even remembers me?” Xiao Zhan asks, slipping off his shoes as Yibo sets the lock behind them.

“Of course she remembers you,” Yibo says, his own shoes going neatly next to Xiao Zhan’s. He looks at them for a moment, then looks away. “What, you think you’re that forgettable?”

Xiao Zhan doesn’t have an answer for that, lingering by the door, fingers sliding on the strap of his bag as Yibo moves around the room, turning on lights. A lamp on an end table turns a round gray shadow on the couch into a round gray cat, and Yibo grins as Jianguo lifts her head.

“There’s someone here to see you,” he says to her. Jianguo stretches—and then freezes when Xiao Zhan shifts on the other side of the room. She stares at him wide-eyed for a long moment, and then leaps off the couch, barreling over to where he stands. Jianguo twines between Xiao Zhan’s legs, rubbing her head against his shin as he slowly crouches, running a hesitant hand over her back. Yibo can hear her purr motoring from across the room.

“Told you,” Yibo says, and when Xiao Zhan looks up Yibo pretends not to see the suspicious brightness at the corners of his eyes. “This place doesn’t have a spare bedroom but you’re welcome to mine. Wouldn’t be the first night I’ve spent on the couch.”

“I’ll take the couch,” Xiao Zhan says immediately.

“It’s no big—” Yibo starts. Xiao Zhan tuts, scooping Jianguo up in his arms, heedless of the hair he’s getting all over that nice jacket, and briefly buries his face in her fur.

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed,” he says when he emerges. Jianguo butts her head against his face and Xiao Zhan beams, glancing back at Yibo. “Don’t argue. We’ll be fine out here, won’t we, sweetheart?” he says, bouncing Jianguo in his arms.

Yibo raises his hands. “Fine. But don’t complain to me when she walks all over your face at four in the morning.”

Xiao Zhan laughs, setting Jianguo gently on the floor. “I’ve woken up to worse.”

Yibo pauses, and then decides not to ask.

As he pulls the spare bedding and pillows down he listens to Xiao Zhan moving around his small living room and wonders what Xiao Zhan thinks of it. Apart from Jianguo, there’s not much in this apartment that Yibo is particularly attached to, nothing terribly incriminating. Nonetheless, something in his chest eases when he returns to find Xiao Zhan admiring a painting of a sunset over the Yangtze.

“Zhang Ping?” Xiao Zhan asks, and Yibo nods as he drops the blankets and pillows on the couch. Xiao Zhan did always have an eye for art.

Xiao Zhan hums, turning back to the painting as Yibo starts haphazardly making up the couch. “A Zhang Ping original. So it hasn’t been all rich kids and boring parties.”

Yibo plumps the pillows. “That’s a print.”

Xiao Zhan slants him a sideways smirk. “Sure it is.”

“I guess the party it was at was pretty boring,” Yibo allows, stepping back and casting a critical eye over his handiwork. It looks kind of like a bed. If Yibo squints.

“Yibo.” When Yibo looks up, Xiao Zhan is looking at him with this careful, half smile on his face. “Thank you.”

Yibo almost lets out a glib for what, but if he says that, Xiao Zhan might actually answer him and that’s a far heavier conversation than Yibo wants to have at this hour of the night, or possibly ever. Instead, he waves his hand, turning toward the bedroom.

“You can thank me with the Fenghuang diamond,” Yibo says, giving Jianguo a quick skritch on the head as he passes. “Bathroom’s the first door on the left. See you in the morning.”

“See you,” Xiao Zhan murmurs, and Yibo deliberately does not look back to see what kind of face matches that warm, grateful tone. He doesn’t want to think about what Xiao Zhan might have to be grateful for, doesn’t want to think about what might have happened if Yibo had turned him down. Would Xiao Zhan have recruited someone else? The thought puts a sick turn in Yibo’s stomach and he glares at himself in the mirror as he brushes his teeth.

It doesn’t matter what Xiao Zhan might have done, Yibo decides as he glances at the shower and opts to leave it until morning. He’s here now. With Yibo. They’re going to rewrite history, to land the biggest score of their careers, and they’re going to do it together.

Yibo flicks off the bathroom light and pauses in the hallway, glancing back at the living room. The lamps are off but the city light from the window illuminates the curl of Xiao Zhan’s hand, tossed loosely over his head where he appears to have flung himself onto the couch. His face is shadowed but his chest moves slowly and shallowly, and as Yibo watches Jianguo hops down from the back of the couch and curls up on his stomach. Her eyes shine in the dim light as she tucks her tail over her nose, and Yibo makes himself turn away.

He expects to have a hard time falling asleep, with the knowledge that Xiao Zhan is sleeping on his couch just down the hall, but instead Yibo’s eyes close almost before his head hits the pillow.

“You think we should start with her?” Xiao Zhan takes a bite of the steaming jianbing and chews as he walks. “Are you two still fighting?”

Yibo scowls at his own crepes. “We never fought.” Not where Xiao Zhan could hear, anyway. “She’s your first choice, huh?”

There’s a beat before Xiao Zhan answers, and Yibo looks over as he swallows. The morning light is kind to Xiao Zhan, lending a warm glow to his face and a brightness to his eyes that surely can’t be from spending a night on Yibo’s shitty sofa. Yibo has slept there more than once; it’s not that comfortable.

“We won’t find a better lightshow this side of Shanghai, and you know it. What’s your objection to Xuan Lu?” Xiao Zhan asks, and Yibo sighs.

“No objection,” he says, and Xiao Zhan’s hand lands on his elbow, pulling him to a stop.

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan says, and how dare he look this concerned, this earnest this early, and on a public street no less. The early morning foot traffic isn’t too busy yet, but Yibo’s little neighborhood is waking up; several pedestrians detour around them. They should keep walking, not attract attention, but Xiao Zhan’s gaze pins him in place and Yibo sighs again.

“It’s not important. I promise it’s not,” he says at Xiao Zhan’s raised eyebrow. “I would tell you if it was.”

Xiao Zhan’s lips press together, but he lets go of Yibo’s arm and resumes walking, heading toward the lake. Yibo stretches his legs to catch up, shoving the last of his breakfast in his mouth. He half expects Xiao Zhan to keep prodding—Yibo would, in his position—but he just takes another bite and chews thoughtfully, looking up into the rising sun. The silence weighs between them and Yibo feels his brow crease.

“I know what you’re doing. You think I can’t handle a little silence? Watch me handle it,” he says, crumpling the paper wrapping in his hand.

Xiao Zhan takes another bite and keeps walking.

Yibo shoves his hands in his pockets. Xiao Zhan stares up into the sky.

“I know she’s a great lightshow,” Yibo argues. “She blew the Huang prototype in Beijing last year with just what she had in her purse. No one better on the market.”

Xiao Zhan takes a final bite and folds the paper wrapping neatly over itself into a little square.

“We’re going to need someone with that kind of expertise even if we don’t blow the safe,” Yibo says. “Say something.”

Xiao Zhan wipes his hands. He glances at Yibo and raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, let me ask you something,” Yibo says hotly. “Do you think you can work with an ex-girlfriend?”

Xiao Zhan blinks. “Is that what this is about?”

“No. Yes.” Yibo folds his arms, then unfolds them again. “Maybe.”

“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan says mildly, and Yibo braces himself for the gentle let-down. “Xuan Lu and I were never together. Not like that.”

“You...” Yibo needs a second. “You weren’t?”

“No.” Xiao Zhan sounds far too amused for Yibo’s peace of mind.

“So when she talked about late nights in Chengdu—” Yibo starts.

“The Greenland Tower job,” Xiao Zhan says, nodding. “She let me hold the flashlight. Said she didn’t trust me with Semtex.”

“Well. Good,” Yibo says inanely. “That’s good. Glad she didn’t let you blow yourselves up.”

“Sure.” Xiao Zhan grins as they cross the street into the lakeside park. He reaches out and plucks the crumpled wrapper from Yibo’s hands, tossing it along with his own garbage into a nearby bin. “You want to tell me why you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend?”

A cool spike of adrenaline shoots down Yibo’s spine and the clarity of a high-stakes con or a delicate piece of handwork settles over him.

“I’m not—” he tries, and then closes his mouth at the look on Xiao Zhan’s face. “All right, all right. I’m just—we’re partners, right? If I’m in this thing, I’m in it all the way, and I need to know that you are too. No distractions.”

Xiao Zhan drifts to a stop a few meters short of where the carefully manicured grass gives way to water, and shades his eyes as he looks up at the rising sun. Yibo comes up next to him and hopes that was enough to salvage what was left of his pride.

“No distractions,” Xiao Zhan murmurs, then lowers his hand and turns to Yibo. “You drive a hard bargain, Wang Yibo. I’ve missed that about you. Partner.” He smiles, blinding like the sun rising behind him, and Yibo grins back like his heart isn’t about to beat out of his chest.

“Partner,” he repeats with satisfaction, and then rolls his shoulders. “All right. Let’s start with her.”

Xuan Lu leans back in her chair and makes a thoughtful noise as she reaches for her bubble tea.

“You want me to sign on without knowing what the job is?” she asks, and Xiao Zhan gives her one of his warmest smiles.

“Lulu, you know me,” he says earnestly. “I wouldn’t lead you into a bad deal.”

“Not on purpose,” she says frankly, and her eyes are hidden behind oversized sunglasses but Yibo can feel her glance at him. She leans forward. “Tell me more—not your super secret target, but about the job in general. Is it worth my time?”

“Incredibly lucrative,” Xiao Zhan assures her.

“Challenging?” she asks.

“There’s a Stevinger on site,” Xiao Zhan offers

Xuan Lu drums manicured fingers against her tea and hums. “Only six of those in the world. That does make things interesting. Tell me—” She pulls her sunglasses off and fixes Xiao Zhan with a level gaze. “And tell me the truth: how dangerous is it?”

Xiao Zhan shrugs. “If we do it right, no more than the Haidan job.”

She raises an eyebrow, fingers stilling. “And if something goes wrong?”

“It won’t.” Xiao Zhan sounds supremely confident, leaning back in his chair. His knee brushes Yibo’s. “Not if we have you. Are you in?”

Xuan Lu doesn’t respond for a long moment, watching Xiao Zhan. He gives her nothing back but a warm, pleasant smile, like it’ll be okay if she passes, like this whole plan doesn’t hinge on someone who can crack a Stevinger safe. Yibo might be able to, given enough time and equipment; but might is not something he wants to rest this venture on.

“What’s your reason?” Xuan Lu says, and Yibo realizes she’s turned her gaze on him. “I know his, he couldn’t stay out of the game if he tried. Why did you say yes?”

“Zhan-ge asked,” Yibo says, shrugging. “And it’s a lot of money.”

Xuan Lu’s lips turn up and she looks back at Xiao Zhan. “Dangerous, challenging, and a lot of money—you sure know how to sell a girl. When do we start?”

Xiao Zhan beams, sliding a card with an address across the table. “Give us a few days to get the rest of the team, and then I’ll let you know.”

“Oooh, I was the first, I feel special,” she says, picking up the card and tucking it away. Xiao Zhan laughs.

“You are special, Lulu,” he says, and Yibo manages to refrain from rolling his eyes. Barely. Xuan Lu glances between them and grins.

“If you’re looking for a rootkit, Yu Bin has picked up a partner,” she says. “They helped me out of a tight spot in Jiangsu a few months ago. Sweet boys.”

Xiao Zhan nods, reaching inside his jacket pocket for a little notebook and flipping it open to make a note. “Tech is definitely on the list, and I like Yu Bin. We’ll look them up. Any idea where they might be operating?”

“He’s a kid,” Yibo says flatly, looking at the blurry headshots.

“Yu Bin’s my age,” Xiao Zhan says absently, sidestepping to get out of the way of a woman with multiple bags over her arm. She gives him a grateful nod and he smiles warmly; this neighborhood is far from the best but it’s not the worst either, and they don’t want to leave an impression.

Yibo puts his phone away and elbows Xiao Zhan in the side. “Funny. I meant the other one. What is he, like, twelve?”

Xiao Zhan looks over, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “He’s one whole year younger than you.”

“Kid,” Yibo repeats, although he follows Xiao Zhan through the little gate and up toward the second-floor apartment.

Xiao Zhan stops at the third door, knocking firmly while Yibo schools his expression into something polite and neutral. Xuan Lu had vouched for Zheng Fanxing; that’s apparently good enough for Xiao Zhan and that is good enough for Yibo.

The door fails to open. Xiao Zhan frowns, and raises his hand.

“Maybe no one’s home?” Yibo says as Xiao Zhan knocks again, and Xiao Zhan shakes his head.

“Unlikely,” he says, lowering his hand and glowering at the door that remains stubbornly closed. “Yu Bin probably has his headphones on.”

“You want me to—” Yibo starts, but Xiao Zhan waves him off, already reaching for the inside of his jacket.

“I’ve got it,” he says, withdrawing his wallet. A few moments work at the door with a bank card and the door swings open; Yibo shakes his head, following Xiao Zhan inside.

The interior of the apartment is dimly lit, the lamps off and the blinds drawn against the late-afternoon sun. The furniture—what there is of it—is clearly secondhand and the primary source of illumination comes from the far corner, where multiple monitors and the largest computer rig Yibo’s ever seen dominates the room. In fact, as his eyes adjust to the dim light Yibo can see that it’s not one setup but two, both running into the same corner. Two chairs are set nearly back to back, both occupants wearing headsets. Neither of them turn around. Light and movement flash across the monitors and Yibo squints—

“Is that—?” he asks, watching one small band of figures annihilate another on screen.

“Probably,” Xiao Zhan says, amused. He crosses the room and plucks the headset off of Yu Bin’s head. “Still pursuing the championships?”

“Fuck off,” Yu Bin says, eyes fixed on the screen and fingers moving fast across the keyboard. “You know I was robbed.”

“I know that you could have easily fixed the results,” Xiao Zhan says, dangling the headset from one hand. Zheng Fanxing glances over and does a double take. He tears his own headset off and taps something out on his keyboard; his own screen freezes, flickers, and goes dark as he turns, eyes flicking between Xiao Zhan and Yibo.

Yu Bin hisses as a contingent disappears from his screen. “Coward. Watch me win this without you.”

“Xiao Zhan,” Xiao Zhan offers over Yu Bin’s head. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure,” Zheng Fanxing says cautiously, eyes flicking to Yibo. Yibo smirks and gives him a little wave.

“And that’s Wang Yibo,” Xiao Zhan says dryly. “And we have a job offer for you.”

It takes another fifteen minutes to pry Yu Bin away from his match, during which Zheng Fanxing awkwardly offers to make tea and Xiao Zhan sunnily accepts. Yibo finds himself sitting gingerly on a couch that has seen at least three better lives, Xiao Zhan settling next to him and leaning back like he has all the time in the world.

“That door was locked,” Zheng Fanxing says as he hands Xiao Zhan a faded blue cup with steam rising from it.

“Not well,” Xiao Zhan replies, smiling. “If you’d like a better setup I know a guy.”

Across the room Yu Bin crows in victory and spins in his chair as his screen goes dark behind him. “Lulu said you were on your way so I didn’t bother with the deadbolts,” he says, and when Yibo glances behind him he can indeed see a variety of increasingly complex locks on the interior of the door. “Figured if you couldn’t get through the front door you’d lost your edge.”

Xiao Zhan laughs. “Well. Here I am, edges and all.”

“You said something about a job offer?” Zheng Fanxing interrupts, eyes darting between Xiao Zhan and Yibo.

Xiao Zhan smiles, reaching inside his jacket pocket. “I certainly did.”

“So who’ve you got on tap for an insider?” Yibo says, swirling his drink with a slow roll of the wrist. The gin at this bar is very good; Yibo stretches to peer over Xiao Zhan’s shoulder to see if he can catch a glimpse of the label.

“I wouldn’t say on tap,” Xiao Zhan says, checking his watch. “But I think between the two of us we can bring her on board. That’s what this meeting’s about.”

“She have a name?” Yibo says. He can see the bottle but it’s too far away to read—

“Meng Ziyi,” Xiao Zhan says, and Yibo chokes, sitting back abruptly.

“Um,” he says intelligently. He doesn’t know how to phrase this.

“You know her? Do you think we’ll have an in?” Xiao Zhan asks, taking a sip of his own whiskey.

“Well,” Yibo hedges. “About that.”

“If I’d known ‘my partner’ meant Wang Yibo,” a woman’s voice says on the other side of the table, and Yibo looks up with a sinking feeling in his gut. “I would probably have hung up on you.”

“Still mad about the Xiaomi thing,” Yibo says weakly as Meng Ziyi pulls out a chair and sits.

“The Xiaomi thing nearly cost me my contract with the company,” Meng Ziyi says severely. “As it was, I had to redesign their security nearly from the ground up thanks to the holes you poked in it.”

“Well.” Might as well brazen this out. Yibo tosses his hair and puts on his second most charming smile. “You’re welcome, then. For the pointers.”

Meng Ziyi stares at him for a long moment, and then snorts. She turns and signals the waiter, hovering attentively nearby. “My drink’s on him,” she tells the waiter, nodding at Xiao Zhan, who is wearing the pleasant smile Yibo knows means he’s quickly recalculating.

“I suppose that saves us the introductions,” Xiao Zhan says once the waiter is off with her order. “We won’t impose on your time too much; we’re hoping to borrow some of your expertise in security systems. We’re prepared to be very appreciative.”

Meng Ziyi nods as the waiter returns with her drink, placing it in front of her. She takes a sip and sets it back down, folding her hands on the table.

“I want in,” she says, and Yibo blinks.

“You want—in?” he repeats. “I thought—”

“I am still mad at you,” Meng Ziyi says matter-of-factly. “And this is how you make it up to me. Not a consulting fee; a full cut. Whatever the both of you are into is going to be big, I know that much,” she says, and Yibo exchanges a glance with Xiao Zhan.

“We don’t—” Xiao Zhan starts, and Meng Ziyi shakes her head.

“Those are my terms,” she says, taking another sip of her drink. “Take them, or find yourself another security expert.”

A long moment of silence settles over the table. Yibo sighs.

“We won’t find someone else as good as she is,” Yibo says to Xiao Zhan, who raises his eyebrows.

“Are you sure?” Xiao Zhan says, and Meng Ziyi huffs.

Yibo nods. “She’s the best. I can tell you about the Xiaomi job later,” he says. “But I’d rather have her with us than against us.”

Meng Ziyi smiles and Xiao Zhan shakes his head, a rueful smile starting as he slides a card across the table. “Well then. Welcome aboard, Meng Ziyi.”

“So how do you know them, again?” Xiao Zhan leans back in the empty stands, tipping his face up toward the sun. The light glints off his sunglasses, and as the sound of revving engines fills the air Yibo makes himself look away.

Down below, the racetrack is empty except for two dragsters at the starting line, tires squealing as burnout plumes behind them. At some unseen signal the cars leap forward, fighting for position as they race down the speedway.

“Ji Li was the wheels for a job in Jingshan,” Yibo says, leaning forward and bracing his forearms on his knee as the green car slowly but steadily pulls ahead. “Got us out of there in record time and hotwired the mark’s Audi to do it. He’s in the green one down there.”

“Okay, but can he—” Xiao Zhan starts, and then sits up as the green dragster slides across the speedway, cutting off the red car with millimeters to spare. The red car backs off, and the green shoots over the finish line a full car-length ahead.

“If it has wheels, he can drive it,” Yibo says smugly. “And probably some things without wheels,” he adds upon reflection.

“Good to know,” Xiao Zhan says absently, watching the cars drift to a stop. “And the other one?”

“Wang Yizhou. He comes with Ji Li. They work the job together, or they don’t work it at all.”

“Huh. All-rounders?” Xiao Zhan says as a small figure down below levers himself out of the green car and does a little victory dance.

“Yeah, but their specialty is transport,” Yibo says, standing and brushing his pants off. “Still, we’re going to need some people on the inside, and they’ll fit the bill. You want to go say hello?”

“Yibo!” Ji Li is bouncing on his toes when they make it down to the speedway. “Did you see? Left him in the dust,” he announces happily as Wang Yizhou comes up behind him.

“I’ll win next time,” Wang Yizhou says peaceably, and Ji Li snorts.

“That’s what you say every time. Your record is starting to look pretty sad, you know?” Ji Li ducks away from the swat Wang Yizhou aims at his head, grinning.

“What’s sad is watching you waste your time here,” Yibo says, teasing. Ji Li brightens.

“You have a job in mind? Oh thank god,” he says with relief. “I am so fucking bored. Beating this guy every day gets old, you know?” He ducks without looking and Wang Yizhou’s hand sails over his head.

“It’s dangerous,” Yibo says, trying to keep his smile contained.

“Don’t care,” Ji Li says without hesitation. His gaze slides over to Xiao Zhan. “I see you’re out of prison.”

“I am,” Xiao Zhan says, putting his hands in his pockets and smiling under his sunglasses. “And I see my reputation precedes me.”

Ji Li glances back at Yibo. “Something like that.”

That’s Yibo’s cue to wrap things up, before Ji Li says something Yibo will regret. “First briefing is in two days,” he says, digging in his pocket for a card with the address on it. Xiao Zhan pulls one from his inside jacket pocket and hands it over, and Yibo takes it with a grateful look. “If you’re in, we’ll see you there. If not, no hard feelings.”

“We’re in,” Wang Yizhou says, reaching over Ji Li’s shoulder to take the card. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t forget.”

“Hey,” Ji Li says, but the affront in his voice is old and practiced, and his eyes are darting back and forth between Yibo and Xiao Zhan.

The sound of revving engines fills the air again as Yibo and Xiao Zhan leave the stadium, and as they step out of the shadow of the bleachers into the afternoon sun Xiao Zhan bumps Yibo gently with his elbow.

“You want to tell me what Ji Li has against me?” he asks curiously.

Yibo tips his head up toward the sun. “Why would he have anything against you?”

Xiao Zhan shrugs, face unreadable behind his sunglasses. “Just wondering why he looked at me like I’m the bad boyfriend back in town.”

Yibo is going to need to have a word with Ji Li. “No idea, Zhan-ge,” he says sunnily, adjusting his own sunglasses. Xiao Zhan falls silent, and when Yibo looks over his head is cocked at an inquisitive angle; Yibo just smiles, and after a long moment Xiao Zhan shakes himself and pulls out a little notebook.

“Who’ve we got left?” he says, and Yibo lets out a breath.

“We’ve got our lightshow, two rootkits, an insider, and a couple of all-rounders,” he says, counting off on his fingers. “After you and me, do we need anyone else?”

“I want Xuan Lu to have backup,” Xiao Zhan says, tapping his list with his finger. “What do you think about a pretty face?”

“My face isn’t pretty enough for you, Zhan-ge?” Yibo regrets it as soon as he says it, but fortunately Xiao Zhan just laughs, closing his notebook with a snap.

“You know exactly how pretty you are, Yibo,” he says, amusement curling warm in his voice, and Yibo feels himself leaning toward it even as he tells himself to stop. “But I was talking about Wang Zhuocheng.”

“I don’t do that anymore,” Wang Zhuocheng says, and Yibo’s chopsticks stop halfway to his mouth.

“Do what?” he says, hoping Wang Zhuocheng means something like add too much spice to my noodles. Xiao Zhan pauses in the act of adding more peppers to his own bowl, and Wang Zhuocheng shakes his head.

“You know. Play the game. Con people,” he clarifies when Yibo just looks at him. “I got out after—” he glances at Xiao Zhan “—after what happened to you.”

Yibo puts a bite in his mouth and chews mechanically. This is not a hurdle he’d anticipated, but he’s good at talking people into things; it’s what he does. He swallows, and exchanges a glance with Xiao Zhan. Xiao Zhan raises an eyebrow and Yibo shakes his head. Xiao Zhan frowns, and Yibo shrugs, going back to his noodles.

“Don’t,” Wang Zhuocheng says from across the table.

Yibo stirs the noodles in his bowl. “Don’t what?” he says, lifting another bite.

“Don’t try to talk me into it,” Wang Zhuocheng says. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing, Zhan-ge?” Yibo says, turning wide eyes on Xiao Zhan.

Xiao Zhan crunches on a pepper. “I really couldn’t say, Yibo.”

“Stop,” Wang Zhuocheng says fiercely, swirling the noodles in his bowl. “You can’t change my mind.”

“I can see that,” Xiao Zhan says solemnly.

“Xuan Lu will be disappointed. You going to tell her?” Yibo asks Xiao Zhan, fighting not to smile at the way Wang Zhuocheng’s fingers still.

Xiao Zhan sighs, reaching for his tea. “I guess I’ll have to.”

“Xuan Lu said yes?” Wang Zhuocheng asks, staring into his bowl.

“She did,” Yibo confirms. “No better lightshow in the country than Xuan Lu.”

Wang Zhuocheng drags a hand down his face. “This is blackmail,” he says, muffled.

“No,” Xiao Zhan says thoughtfully. “No, I’m pretty sure blackmail would be threatening to tell Xuan Lu about the—”

Wang Zhuocheng hisses, but there’s red creeping up his neck and ears. “You wouldn’t.”

Xiao Zhan’s smile softens, and Yibo rolls his eyes. Xiao Zhan has always had a soft spot for romance.

“We won’t tell Xuan Lu about your massive crush,” Yibo says, and Wang Zhuocheng makes a strangled noise. “We wouldn’t have anyway,” Yibo relents. “That’s your business.” He knocks a knee against Xiao Zhan’s and Xiao Zhan huffs.

“We will be sorry that you’re sitting this one out,” Xiao Zhan says, in that casually earnest way of his that he can turn on like a dial. The trick, Yibo thinks as he inhales his noodles, is that Xiao Zhan does mean it, at least a little bit; Yibo knows he himself can turn on the charm with the best of them, but it’s a pleasure to watch Xiao Zhan work, always has been.

Wang Zhuocheng flattens his hands against the table. “If—if,” he cautions. “If I were interested—”

“If anyone were interested,” Xiao Zhan interrupts, sliding a card across the table. “They could come to this address, tomorrow at 7 pm. No questions asked.”

Wang Zhuocheng stares at the card for a long moment.

Then he reaches out and picks it up, tucking it away in a pocket. “No promises,” he says.

Xiao Zhan smiles winningly. “None needed,” he assures him.

Wang Zhuocheng sighs, and Xiao Zhan’s smile turns victorious.

Yibo waits until the shop door has closed behind Wang Zhuocheng’s back, until he’s well down the street, before he nudges Xiao Zhan and says, “You think he’ll be there?”

“He will,” Xiao Zhan says, setting his bowl down. “A man in love is about as predictable as it gets.”

Yibo looks down into his own bowl, and then pushes the rest of it away.

“Are you going to finish that?” Xiao Zhan asks.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Yibo says, and it isn’t even a lie.

It’s good that they’re not using Yibo’s little apartment for this, Yibo thinks. For one thing, he doesn’t have enough chairs; for another, his view of the alley behind his building wouldn’t showcase Xiao Zhan the way this cityscape does, high up in one of the busier hotels in this part of town. Zhang Ping original aside, this business suite makes a much better impression.

Besides, Yibo is fairly sure at least one person they’d invited here tonight had had designs on that painting. Yibo had just gotten there first.

Ji Li and Wang Yizhou arrive early. Ji Li makes a beeline for the minibar, tossing Wang Yizhou a soda and popping one for himself. Xuan Lu shows up practically on their heels, and Meng Ziyi a few minutes later. While she and Wang Yizhou are exchanging polite introductions another knock on the door sounds, and Yibo pulls it open to reveal Zheng Fanxing and Yu Bin.

“Are we late?” Zheng Fanxing asks.

“Not yet,” Yibo says, standing aside to let them in. As he closes it behind them he checks his phone.

Exactly 7 pm. No Wang Zhuocheng. No messages either, but Yibo hadn’t really expected one if the answer was no.

Yibo pockets his phone and crosses to where Xiao Zhan is looking out over the city, nodding polite greetings as he moves through the room. Xiao Zhan half-turns toward him as he approaches, and Yibo shakes his head.

Xiao Zhan hums to himself. “He’ll be here,” he says confidently. “Let’s give him a few minutes.” Yibo shakes his head but goes to get two waters out of the fridge. The chatter behind him is warming up; they can stand to wait a few minutes.

One bottle goes to Xiao Zhan, and Yibo is putting the cap back on his own when a knock, barely audible, sounds at the door. Xiao Zhan smirks and Yibo considers flipping him off as he goes to open it. Wang Zhuocheng looks like he’s not at all sure that he wants to be here when Yibo pulls the door open, but he’s here, and that’s more than Yibo had frankly expected.

“You ready to do this?” Yibo says, not moving from the doorway.

Wang Zhuocheng leaves off trying to look over Yibo’s shoulder, eyes meeting Yibo’s. Xuan Lu’s laughter sounds from the room and Wang Zhuocheng’s face softens; he presses his lips together and visibly pulls himself together.

“I’m ready,” he says, and then his gaze goes rueful. “I guess you’d know what it’s like, huh.”

Yibo feels his eyebrows climb into his hairline. “Excuse me?”

“Oh. I thought—” Wang Zhuocheng falters for a moment, and then Xiao Zhan’s voice sounds behind Yibo.

“Everything all right?” he murmurs, and Yibo maintains careful eye contact with Wang Zhuocheng as he steps aside.

“Everything’s fine, Zhan-ge,” he says. “See? Full house.”

Xiao Zhan smiles warmly at Wang Zhuocheng. “Glad to have you, Zhuocheng. We’ll get started in a few minutes.” He nods and heads back toward the small crowd, and Wang Zhuocheng sidles awkwardly past Yibo and into the room. Yibo sighs and shuts the door.

“Friends, it’s good to see you again,” Xiao Zhan is saying, and Yibo strolls back over to the small circle of chairs and couches. He cocks his hip against the back of the nearest sofa, watching the sunset light wash Xiao Zhan in a warm glow as he stands in front of the tall windows. He always did have an eye for dramatic effect.

“I won’t waste your time,” Xiao Zhan continues. “You’re here because you’re the best at what you do. Looking around this room should give you an idea of the scope of the job at hand. I know we’ve sometimes been at odds with one another, but I’m going to ask you to leave that at the door. If you think you can’t do that, or if you think the risk is too great, you can get up and leave now. No hard feelings, no harm done.”

Xiao Zhan pauses expectantly. Nobody moves. Zheng Fanxing slides lower in his chair and looks like he immediately regrets it as the susurration of fabric against leather sounds loudly in the sudden silence.

Xiao Zhan smiles, brilliant like the sun setting behind him. “Fantastic. I assume everyone here is familiar with the Fenghuang diamond.”

A small murmur travels round the room. Meng Ziyi sits up straighter; Xuan Lu nods like something has suddenly made sense to her.

“Isn’t that cursed?” Yu Bin says.

“Didn’t you try to steal that already?” Ji Li chimes in, nearly on top of him.

Xiao Zhan’s smile tightens. Imperceptible, probably, to someone who doesn’t know him, but Yibo sees it and considers smacking Ji Li on the back of the head.

“Some of you may know that Yibo and I once tried for the Fenghuang diamond, yes,” Xiao Zhan says. “We didn’t succeed.”

“That’s because it’s cursed,” Yu Bin says smugly.

Xiao Zhan doesn’t roll his eyes, but Yibo can see that he wants to. “It’s not cursed. It’s a prettily cut piece of rock.”

“A piece of rock worth millions, maybe more,” Yibo says, and heads turn his way. “Our first attempt went badly,” he admits. “This one won’t.”

“What’s different about this time?” Zheng Fanxing asks, and Xiao Zhan’s smile eases as the conversation comes back on script.

Xiao Zhan spreads his hands. “You are.”

“The Fenghuang diamond is going up for auction at the Taohuayuan estate, on a private island on the south end of Dushu Lake.” Xiao Zhan sounds self-assured and confident, and not at all like he’s practiced this in front of both the mirror and Yibo. “We’ll need people on the inside and the outside. Lulu we’ll need on the inside, obviously. Zhuocheng, you’ll watch her back and keep other people off it.”

Xuan Lu nods and grins across the room at Zhuocheng; he ducks his head, a shy smile starting on his face. Yibo just barely refrains from rolling his eyes.

“Zheng Fanxing and Yu Bin, we’ll need you to pull together identities and invitations,” Xiao Zhan continues. “Rich and forgettable is the vibe we’re going for.”

Zheng Fanxing nods, fingers tapping against his thigh. “You want credit lines opened?”

Xiao Zhan nods. “If you can do it without raising any flags.”

Zheng Fanxing shrugs. “Money is just ones and zeros.”

“Not when it’s carats in your hand, it’s not,” Yibo tosses out, just to see what Zheng Fanxing will do with it.

“The point,” Zheng Fanxing shoots back, “is that I can doctor your resume and your credit history, no problem, whoever you want to be.”

“If money is just ones and zeros, why are you here?” Ji Li cuts in before Yibo can respond.

Zheng Fanxing shrugs and slouches a little further in his seat. “Gotta get my kicks somehow, right?” Ji Li huffs, but Yibo feels his mouth pull up. Good to know the kid has a spine, at least.

“Do either of you get seasick?” Xiao Zhan asks. Zheng Fanxing’s face goes uncertain and Yu Bin’s eyebrows raise. “I hope not, because you’ll be stationed on a boat offshore with Meng Ziyi running comms and tech.”

Meng Ziyi raises her hand, amused. “I have my captain’s license.”

Xiao Zhan beams like this is a lucky break and not something Yibo had flagged for him in the group dossier. “Fantastic. I would have you onsite,” he says apologetically, “but given your day job it’s probably best to keep your face out of it.”

Meng Ziyi nods, mouth quirking up. “My future employment thanks you.”

“Ji Li, Wang Yizhou,” Xiao Zhan says, turning. “You’ll be undercover as event staff. We’ll need someone with inside access to the staff-only parts of the estate.”

Ji Li scowls, gesturing at Xuan Lu and Wang Zhuocheng. “Why do they get to be guests and we’re the help?”

“You’ll get to play with some of Xuan Lu’s toys,” Xiao Zhan says easily. “And the best tech Yu Bin can whip up. Does that help?”

Ji Li leans back, satisfied. “Yes.”

Xiao Zhan beams. “Wonderful. The diamond and other items will be shown the day before the auction, so everyone can get a good look at what’s up for bid.”

“We’re going to cut the power during the showing?” Wang Yizhou asks.

Xiao Zhan shakes his head. “The estate has backup generators for their backup generators, and security would lock down immediately. No, we’re going to let everyone get a good, long look, and then we’re going to let them lock it all back up.”

Xuan Lu sits up straighter. “You promised me a Stevinger.”

Xiao Zhan’s smile widens. “I did. We’re going to hit them where they think they’re strongest; we’re not only going to crack the safe, we’re going to put it back the way we found it.”

Silence greets that pronouncement, broken by a low whistle from Xuan Lu. “Cracked and reset? You don’t ask for much.”

Xiao Zhan spreads his hands. “It’s difficult but it’ll be worth it; we’re going to replace the diamond with a replica, seal up the safe, and let the auction proceed. We’ll bid carefully, so as not to win, and then we’ll walk out of the estate with the diamond. Split nine ways, it’ll buy you a nice comfortable retirement—even if it’s just ones and zeros,” he says with a wink at Zheng Fanxing. An excited murmur spreads through the room, heads turning toward each other or lowering in consideration. Yibo puts his hands in his pockets, rocking on his toes; this will be where the team makes or breaks. If anyone backs out now—

“What’s your job?” Wang Zhuocheng asks, voice cutting through the chatter. The volume of conversation lowers, eyes turning back toward Xiao Zhan at the head of the room. “We all have assignments—what will you be doing?”

Xiao Zhan folds his hands behind his back, a gentle smile on his face. “Yibo and I will be guests as well. We’ll be coordinating on comms, and available to handle anything unexpected.”

“Unexpected?” Meng Ziyi glances at Yibo, and then back at Xiao Zhan. “You’ve described a pretty smooth operation. What do you think might be unexpected?”

“Flexibility in the face of the unknown is just good planning,” Xiao Zhan says smoothly. “Nothing more than that.”

Meng Ziyi subsides, but there’s a thoughtful cast to her face that says she’s not entirely convinced. Yibo can hardly blame her; it’s her job to dead-end enterprises like this, but Yibo has spent the last several nights making Xiao Zhan walk him through the plan until it’s as airtight as they can make it. There’s always uncertainty. But Xiao Zhan thinks it can be done, and he has a way of being right about these things.

Yibo glances over at Xiao Zhan, graced by the last rays of the sunset. His face is composed, easy, like he already knows they’ll say yes. Yibo might have to borrow some of that belief for himself, but Xiao Zhan has always had plenty of faith to spare.

Wang Yizhou stretches. “Walk in, get the diamond, walk out,” he says. “Easy.”

Ji Li elbows him in the side. “Shut up, you just made it difficult.” He leans forward. “So when do we start?”

Yibo winces as the squeal of metal on metal cuts through the air in the enclosed garage. “Are you sure you’re doing that right?”

Xuan Lu flips up her face shield and brandishes the blowtorch in his direction. “Question my expertise again—” she threatens.

Yibo throws his hands up and backpedals. “I mean, uh—how’s it going?”

Xuan Lu sighs, flipping the shield back down and rolling on her back so she can slide under their practice Stevinger. Yibo doesn’t know exactly how Xiao Zhan procured the blueprints—Xiao Zhan had just smiled sunnily and said it was a favor owed—but the mockup looks impressive, even if it lacks the heft and weight of the real thing. The important thing, Xuan Lu says, is that if she can put one together she can take one apart when the time comes.

Yibo trusts her, he does. There really is no one better at safecracking, even if Yibo knows she prefers the more incendiary parts of her job. Maybe she can blow this one up when they’re finished, some celebratory fireworks.

“I’m doing fine.” Xuan Lu’s voice is muffled but clearly carries a tone that Yibo can’t quite interpret. “Don’t you have a date?”

Yibo blinks “A date—it’s not a date,” he says, feeling his cheeks heat. “I’m meeting Zhan-ge to order our replica diamond. It’s business.”

“Oh, honey.” Xuan Lu slides back out from under the safe, and even before she flips the face shield up Yibo knows she’s going to have this pitying look on her face. “Yibo—I don’t know how to tell you this, but everyone knows how you feel about him.”

Yibo winces. “Everyone? I mean—” he doesn’t know how to follow that up with something that isn’t incriminating, but—everyone?

“Everyone with eyes,” Xuan Lu says dryly. “As smart as he is, Xiao Zhan sometimes has trouble seeing what’s in front of him.”

Yibo’s head is spinning but he has to shut this down, fast. “Zhan-ge and I are partners, that’s all. We make a good team.” He manages to close his mouth on the next part of that sentence which is, he said so.

“You do make a good team, which is the only reason I signed on when you clearly have so much—” Xuan Lu wrinkles her nose and waves the blowtorch. “Stuff going on between you two.”

“There’s nothing going on,” Yibo insists, and he’s a very good liar, it’s his job to be a good liar, but Xuan Lu just shakes her head.

“I trust you to handle yourself,” she says. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“And do you trust him?” The words slip out before Yibo can stop himself.

The shadow of a smile crosses Xuan Lu’s face. “In a different way, yes.”

“But not with Semtex.” Yibo smiles at Xuan Lu’s surprise. “He told me about the Greenland Tower job.”

Xuan Lu laughs, flipping her shield down and sliding back beneath the safe. “I don’t know why I worry,” she says. “Go have fun on your date.”

“It’s not a date,” Yibo says faintly. Xuan Lu kicks a foot at him and he raises his hands again, backing out of the garage. His phone vibrates in his pocket and when he pulls it out, there’s a message from Xiao Zhan.

<I’m running late for lunch. See you in 20?>

Yibo’s mouth pulls up, and then he drags his hand down over his face, smoothing it out.

<20’s good> he sends back.

He gets a thumbs up in response. Yibo pockets his phone, heading for the sidewalk.

“It’s not a date,” he says again, although at this point he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince.

It doesn’t feel like a date. Sure, Yibo knows Xiao Zhan’s order and how he likes it spiced, but they’ve spent months before living in each other’s pockets, preparing for scores. It doesn’t mean anything; at least, it doesn’t mean anything to Xiao Zhan, who slides in across from Yibo with a grateful smile. He’s already talking, filling Yibo in on the progress Meng Ziyi has made with the estate security infrastructure, and Yibo nods along, listening.

It doesn’t feel like a date. It just feels like them.

The hobby shop Yibo has in mind is much the same as he remembers it: still sandwiched between a noodle shop (good) and a used bookstore (cramped, but with a convenient back exit), window still filled with painstakingly painted miniatures and models. The place smells of paint and glue and other fumes that Yibo can’t identify, but then he’s not an expert in art restoration. That’s why he comes here.

The proprietor, too, is much as Yibo remembers him.

“What an interesting challenge!” Liu Haikuan says, rotating the model of the Fenghuang diamond Zheng Fanxing had set up on a burner tablet. “What did you say you were using it for?”

Before Yibo can tell him that they didn’t, Xiao Zhan cuts in, smooth tones warm and believable. “Community theater.”

Long practice allows Yibo to control his face; Liu Haikuan’s assistant, new since Yibo had been here last, has his eyebrows nearly in his hairline. If Liu Haikuan hired him, Zhu Zanjin can’t be completely unfamiliar with the type of business that’s actually run here, but he’s going to have to work on covering that easy surprise.

Liu Haikuan nods, turning the model again. “Community theater. Brilliant. I love the theater. You’ll let me know where you’re playing, yes?”

Xiao Zhan’s smile doesn’t budge. “We’ll get you tickets to opening night if this production gets off the ground.”

“Can you do it?” Yibo asks, reaching out to shut off the tablet.

Liu Haikuan hums, gaze going distant. “Resin would be easiest but at that size, you’ll lose the clarity and the density...maybe glass? But that’s fragile, easily damaged…”

“We’ll do it,” Zhu Zanjin interrupts, eyes on Yibo. “For the right price.” He names a figure that’s double what Yibo was expecting, and this time Yibo doesn’t bother hiding the climb of his brows.

“Your rates have increased,” Yibo says, glancing at Liu Haikuan, but he’s already jotting notes to himself on a nearby pad.

Zhu Zanjin shrugs. “Inflation catches up to everyone. Besides,” he says, glancing at the tablet with the model of the diamond. “I’m sure you’re good for it.”

A hand lands on Yibo’s shoulder before he can respond to that. “We are,” Xiao Zhan cuts in smoothly. “But surely we can come to a reasonable agreement.”

“I’m listening,” Zhu Zanjin says politely, and Xiao Zhan waves him further down the counter, leaning over and turning up the smile. Zhu Zanjin smiles back, bright and professional, and Yibo watches for a moment before he turns away from all those teeth.

“This could take a while,” he says, tapping on Liu Haikuan’s notepad to make him look up. “What else have you got?”

Xiao Zhan claps his hands together, and Yibo turns off the screen, leaving the suite lit only by the glow of the city. “Everyone’s clear on their roles?” Xiao Zhan asks as the estate blueprints disappear from behind him. “Any last questions?”

“Yeah.” As Yibo brings the lights up he can see Ji Li has his hand already raised. “What are you spending your cut on?”

Xiao Zhan laughs. “I’m not spending anything before we have it in our hands. Learned that one the hard way. If there’s nothing else—” he pauses, but no one fills the silence. Xiao Zhan beams. “Then I’ll leave you with this: stick to the plan, and we’ll all see each other on the other side.”

Yibo feels vaguely like he’s been dismissed from school as the rest of the crew gathers up the packets Zheng Fanxing handed out earlier and starts to drift toward the door. Yibo drops into an empty seat, pulling his own packet toward himself. Dossier, ID, passport, credit cards, cell phone: Zheng Fanxing and Yu Bin really pulled out all the stops putting their cover identities together. Yibo pulls the phone out and unlocks it.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling Xiao Zhan down until their heads knock together and holding up the phone. “Smile.” Xiao Zhan makes a protesting sound as Yibo grins into the camera, and when the photo pops up Xiao Zhan’s face is clearly etched in surprise.

Yibo laughs, releasing him, and Xiao Zhan chuckles as he straightens. “What was that about?” he asks, readjusting his collar.

“Just building our backstory,” Yibo says, pulling up the phone’s contacts and searching for Xiao Zhan’s cover identity’s name. “I’m making this your contact photo.”

Xiao Zhan huffs, settling into the next empty chair. He swivels slowly, knocking his knee against Yibo’s. “You’re okay with that? I can ask Zheng Fanxing to change it.”

“It’s fine, Zhan-ge,” Yibo says, busying himself with the phone. “Won’t be the first time I’ve been arm candy.”

“Boyfriend,” Xiao Zhan says, and something in his tone makes Yibo look up. Xiao Zhan rubs his fingers together, looking somewhere over Yibo’s shoulder. “We’ve been together for years, don’t forget.”

As if Yibo could. He’s good at separating out what’s real and what’s for a job—he has to be, to do what he does—but with Xiao Zhan that has always been...difficult.

“Come on,” Yibo says, dropping the phone back in the packet and standing. “Let’s go—” home, he almost says, “—back.”

It might be the exercise or it might be the night air, but something between them eases on the way back to Yibo’s little apartment. Xiao Zhan is restless, his stride fast and even, but that’s not unusual: he always gets a little wired before a big job, excitement practically vibrating beneath his skin. Yibo knows that it will smooth out once things are underway. He can feel his own anticipation curling warm and steady in his gut and he breathes with it, letting it settle into the calm clarity of preparation.

He’s missed this, those years that Xiao Zhan had been away. There had been jobs in between, of course; Yibo has worked both with and against members of their crew, but it’s never been quite this big. It’s never been quite the same. He’s ready for this, he wants this: to work something ambitious again, to work with Xiao Zhan again.

To be with Xiao Zhan, even if it’s only pretend.

Yibo sneaks a glance over, but Xiao Zhan’s eyes are fixed somewhere in the sky, where the light pollution drowns out the stars. Yibo lets his gaze linger for a second, but by the time Xiao Zhan looks back around Yibo is digging in his pocket for his keys. As he climbs the steps to his tiny apartment, Xiao Zhan stays close on his heels and Yibo has to fight against a sense of dislocation. He doesn’t know if it’s the pre-job anticipation or Xiao Zhan humming behind him that’s the most familiar; it’s so much how it used to be but everything has changed, and as Yibo unlocks the door he’s not sure if what he wants is only a memory.

The weird sense of deja vu only increases as Xiao Zhan moves across Yibo’s living room, turning on a single light with the ease of someone who knows where all the furniture is. Yibo pauses in the hallway as Xiao Zhan opens the case for the replica diamond, running his fingers around the velvet lining. Liu Haikuan had done a brilliant job, well worth the inflated price; the replica sparkles in the dim light, and it’s Yibo’s imagination acting up but he can almost see it reflected in Xiao Zhan’s eyes.

“Don’t get any prints on it,” Yibo cautions, and Xiao Zhan looks up, grinning.

“I won’t,” he promises, but there are shadows in his smile as he closes the case.

“We should get some sleep,” Yibo says. Somehow his feet don’t move him toward the bedroom.

Xiao Zhan flops down on the couch next to Jianguo, who immediately butts her head against his hand. “You can have the bathroom first,” Xiao Zhan says, stroking his fingers over Jianguo’s ears. “I’m not tired yet.”

Neither is Yibo, really; for one wild moment he imagines crossing the room, sliding into Xiao Zhan’s lap and pressing his face into Xiao Zhan’s neck. He’d smell of summer night and Yibo’s soap, and Yibo can almost feel the weight of Xiao Zhan’s hands settling on his hips. They’ll have to be that close—or closer—starting tomorrow, to make it look real. Yibo could say he was just getting a head start.

Xiao Zhan cocks his head and Yibo inhales sharply, suddenly aware that he’d been staring. He rocks forward on his toes for a moment—

And settles back on his heels. He’s a professional. They both are. Tomorrow he’ll hang off of Xiao Zhan’s arm and make it look convincing; tonight he needs to sleep. If he goes over there now, he’ll either irrevocably fuck things up between them or—

Or he won’t. Either way, he won’t be getting a lot of sleep.

“Goodnight,” Yibo says, and although he turns away before Xiao Zhan can respond, the gentle curve of Xiao Zhan’s smile follows him all the way to bed.

“Oh, Beijing International is a nightmare,” the older woman across the table says as Yibo casually scans the room over the rim of his drink. “We never fly commercial if we can help it,” she says. Her companion and probable husband grunts an agreement as he finishes his soup.

“Commercial has its drawbacks,” Xiao Zhan agrees, leaning back and draping an arm over the back of Yibo’s chair. “But I met this one in Beijing International,” he says, grinning at Yibo.

“Really?” The woman looks faintly scandalized, leaning forward. Over her shoulder Yibo can see Xuan Lu, resplendent in a red evening gown, enter the formal dining room on Wang Zhuocheng’s arm. “In an airport?”

Xiao Zhan laughs. “In an airport,” he confirms. His thumb brushes over Yibo’s shoulder. “I lost my phone that day, but the tradeoff was worth it.”

Yibo feels his cheeks heat and he ducks his head, playing it up. “I can’t believe you’re telling that story,” he says. It’s not untrue—lifting Xiao Zhan’s phone had definitely been the highlight of the day—but mixing the truth and the lie like this puts a breathless curl in his stomach, one that he has to breathe around. He covers it by reaching for his drink. “You’re lucky I gave you a chance.”

“I am,” Xiao Zhan says peaceably, and then leans in, his hair brushing against Yibo’s temple. “How are we looking, team?” he murmurs, breath warm against Yibo’s ear.

“Water’s calm, comms are clear.” Meng Ziyi’s voice fills Yibo’s ear as he tilts his head toward Xiao Zhan, letting his smile grow as if he’s being serenaded with sweet nothings. “Extraction team in position.”

Across the room Xuan Lu lifts her hands to one of her large earrings and ducks her head as if adjusting the backing. “The guest rooms are incredible. I was tempted to skip dinner to nap.” Zhuocheng clears his throat and Xuan Lu adds. “We’re in, no trouble.”

“The staff rooms are not incredible,” Ji Li chimes in. “Steal me a pillow, will you?”

“Any trouble getting in?” Xiao Zhan murmurs, and Ji Li sighs, crackly in Yibo’s earpiece.

“None, smooth entry as promised,” he says. “Standing by.”

Xiao Zhan hums approvingly. “Great work, everyone. You know your assignments, call out if you need it.”

“Are we going to have to listen to you two flirt all night?” Ji Li demands. Xiao Zhan laughs, sitting up without giving Ji Li an answer.

Their own entry had been as seamless as Xiao Zhan had predicted; Yu Bin and Zheng Fanxing’s efforts had gotten them on all the right lists and their documents had barely been skimmed, let alone challenged, and then they were mingling with the kind of glittering crowd that would normally make Yibo’s fingers itch for a bracelet or a wallet. But the stakes here are far higher than a simple lift, and the cool clarity of a job keeps Yibo’s focus on his crew and his hands to himself.

Xiao Zhan’s hand lands on Yibo’s thigh for a moment as he shifts upright, then lifts. “Anything you have your eye on for tomorrow?” he asks, directing the question across the table.

The man sets his bowl down. “The diamond, of course. I’m told it’s cursed, but—” he shrugs and waves vaguely at his wife as the waitstaff refills his drink.

Yibo can just about feel the effort it takes Xiao Zhan to keep from rolling his eyes. “Cursed?” he says politely, and the woman leans across the table conspiratorially.

“No one’s kept it for more than two or three years,” she says, excitement clear in her voice. “It was even stolen once, but it surfaced again not six months later.”

Xiao Zhan’s brow furrows in polite puzzlement. “Shouldn’t we all be avoiding it, then?”

The woman shrugs, the stole around her shoulders sparkling in the evening light. “If you have no sense of adventure, I suppose.”

Xiao Zhan blinks, and Yibo covers his grin with another drink.

“Why does everyone think that diamond is cursed?” Xiao Zhan complains as he shuts the door to their room behind them. “Curses aren’t real.”

Yibo undoes his tie and lets it hang as he shrugs out of his tuxedo jacket. “People love a good story, and a curse has,” he pauses as he searches for the right word. “Romance,” he decides.

“Romance,” Xiao Zhan says dryly, undoing his cufflinks. “Didn’t think you were the romantic type.”

“Are we done here?” Ji Li interjects and Xiao Zhan huffs, straightening and lifting a hand to his ear.

“Did we get what we need?” he asks, and Yibo strips the tie from around his neck, wrapping it around his hand as the crew sounds off.

“The safe room has two-factor authentication,” Wang Yizhou says. “Keycard and a code. Security all have an app on their phones.”

“Hmm. Facial recognition?” Xiao Zhan asks, just as Zheng Fanxing chimes in, “We can bypass that.”

“Say that again?” Xiao Zhan asks. There’s the sound of a small scuffle and Meng Ziyi’s sigh before Yu Bin speaks.

“Cloning the phone and bypassing the facelock are easy,” he says. “There’s an app on all of yours called 2-4-1. Set it near the target phone, let it do its thing, and you’ve got a brand new device that you can key to your face.”

“The entry to the room will be logged,” Meng Ziyi warns. “I’ll work with these two to mask it from here, but you’ll have a narrow operable window.”

Xiao Zhan nods, and then as if remembering only Yibo can see him, says, “Got it. Call it out tomorrow if you spot an opportunity.”

“If you need one, I’m sure we can make one,” Wang Zhuocheng offers. “Lift, clone, and return. Easy.” Xiao Zhan raises an eyebrow at Yibo and Yibo nods; he’s done harder pull-and-returns before, and if he can tag team it with someone else, all the better.

“I’ll leave it in your hands, then,” Xiao Zhan says, beaming. “Get some rest; tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” There’s a round of murmured assent and a series of clicks as the team signs off; Xiao Zhan reaches for his earpiece after the last click, pulling it out and rubbing at his ear.

“The earlier you can pull it the better,” he says as Yibo pulls his own earpiece out. “The showing is in the afternoon and it’ll look strange if you’re not there.”

“Are you showing off your boyfriend or the diamond?” Yibo asks, mouth pulling up as he tucks his earpiece in its case.

Xiao Zhan winks. “Both.” He grabs a throw pillow from the bed and throws it at Yibo’s head. “I call the bathroom first.”

Yibo catches the pillow right before it smacks him in the face, and when he lowers it the adjoining bathroom door is closed, the sound of water running behind it. Yibo sighs, glancing back at the giant—but singular—bed. He’d known this was coming, he’d just been—not thinking about it. Of course they can’t have separate rooms, not without becoming memorable.

It’s not a big deal. Xiao Zhan doesn’t seem to think it’s a big deal, to share a bed; this is all nerves on Yibo’s end, nerves he can’t afford if they’re going to pull this off.

Both. Yibo shakes off the memory of Xiao Zhan’s teasing tone and moves to get undressed.

By the time Yibo is finished with his turn in the bathroom, only a single light on what must be his side of the bed remains lit. Xiao Zhan is a still shape underneath the covers, and although Yibo stands in the bathroom doorway for a moment the only movement is the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Better this way. Xiao Zhan had been right; tomorrow is going to be a long day and Yibo needs rest. If only he could make his feet move.

Xiao Zhan lifts his head. “Problem?” His voice is already softened with drowsiness, warm and uncomplicated, and something eases in Yibo’s chest.

“No problem.” It’s just Xiao Zhan. While what’s between them has never been uncomplicated, it has always been easy, and Yibo finds as he turns out the light and slides beneath the covers that this is too.

He can’t, however, get comfortable; he rolls on one side but then he’s facing Xiao Zhan’s silhouette and that’s—a lot, so he rolls on the other side and stares blankly out the window. He closes his eyes. They spring open again seconds later.

Xiao Zhan grumbles something inaudible behind him and the bed shifts underneath Yibo. A strong arm wraps around Yibo’s middle and pulls him back against a warm chest; Yibo freezes, and Xiao Zhan chuckles against the back of his neck.

“Stop thinking and go to sleep,” Xiao Zhan mumbles. It’s half-indistinct but it’s an order, and Yibo considers having at least three separate crises but the weight of Xiao Zhan’s arm around him is steadying, slowing the hammering of his heart. Yibo blows out a breath, and closes his eyes.

When Yibo wakes in the early morning light Xiao Zhan is already in the shower, which is—fine. Probably for the best. Xiao Zhan moving and getting out of bed hadn’t woken Yibo, which is—also fine. Yibo throws back the covers and doesn’t think about the last time he’d slept that deeply.

Breakfast is calling but Yibo slows on the way as they pass an inner courtyard. He checks his watch. If he times this right—

“I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” he says, reaching inside his jacket for the cigarettes that are a part of his cover story.

Xiao Zhan pauses and half-turns on his heel. “Something wrong?”

Yibo shakes his head, grinning. “An opportunity.”

The air in the courtyard is fresh and clean, the foliage lush and well cared for. Yibo shakes a cigarette out, reaching for the accompanying lighter and counting down the minutes. If the schedules Ji Li and Wang Yizhou provided are accurate—

“Sir?” A discreetly uniformed security guard stands halfway in the entryway, leaning toward Yibo. “Sir, I’m afraid there’s no smoking inside the building.”

“Oh.” Yibo blinks slowly, lowering the lighter and the unlit cigarette. “Shit. Really?” he says, as if that wasn’t the entire reason he’d brought smokes in the first place.

“I’m afraid so.” The guard is going to need to work on his poker face; he looks faintly relieved, and Yibo wonders how many guests have been less than polite about this. “There’s a terrace off the south wing that should suit, if you’d like.”

Yibo beams, stowing away the cigarettes and the lighter. “I knew I liked you,” he says, putting a little shuffle in his step as he moves toward the guard. He reaches out a hand and the guard has no choice but to take it; Yibo catches his foot on the perfectly flat stone beneath him and stumbles forward, pulling them together and catching himself on the guard’s chest.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, patting the guard’s chest as he straightens. “Guess last night is still catching up with me. East wing, you said?”

“South wing,” the guard says, clearly waiting for Yibo to let go.

“South, south, right.” Yibo nods and steps away. “Which direction is that?”

The guard sighs.

“I can’t believe people still fall for that,” Wang Zhuocheng murmurs in Yibo’s ear as he makes his way toward the promised terrace.

“Works every time,” Yibo says smugly, after checking to make sure the hallway is deserted. He shifts his sleeve, letting the guard’s phone fall into his hand. “Meet me on the terrace in ten.”

By the time Wang Zhuocheng makes an appearance Yibo’s for-show cigarette has burned to a stub and the guard’s phone has been fully cloned to Yibo’s device. He pockets his phone and stands, turning to head back inside as Wang Zhuocheng heads for the far edge of the terrace, pulling out his own phone. He nods, friendly and impersonal as he approaches Yibo, and Yibo nods back; the drop of the guard’s phone into Wang Zhuocheng’s jacket pocket is seamless, their bodies blocking the sight of any casual observer. Wang Zhuocheng lifts his own phone as if taking a call, and Yibo heads back inside, letting his mouth pull up in a smirk.

Wang Zhuocheng’s conversation with the head of staff plays out in Yibo’s ear as he makes his way back to Xiao Zhan’s side: he’d found this phone, he doesn’t know who it belongs to, could they find the rightful owner please? Yibo can just about picture the wide, doe-eyed look on Wang Zhuocheng’s face; he has no room to talk about old tricks, Yibo decides with a sniff.

The waiting is often the hardest part, but in Xiao Zhan’s company it passes quickly. They make friendly, casual conversation with the other guests—yes, this is their first time on Dushu Lake; yes, it’s just as beautiful as everyone says—and take a stroll down to the shore. If Yibo shades his eyes, he thinks he can pick out the boat Meng Ziyi, Yu Bin, and Zheng Fanxing are camped out on.

The cross chatter of conversation in his ears is grounding, a reminder of why he’s here, if he was in any danger of forgetting. But in the moments when the team is quiet, when it’s just the wind and the sun and Xiao Zhan standing next to him, it’s easy to listen to the quiet lap of the water against the dock and let himself...slip, for a moment. It’s so much what he wants, and he’s a thief by trade; surely no one would begrudge him stealing these few moments for himself.

Xiao Zhan slides an arm around Yibo’s waist as they look out over the water. He knows, he knows it’s for the benefit of anyone watching from the estate grounds, but just for a moment, Yibo lets himself lean into it.

The showing itself isn’t until late afternoon, the items set on individual tables behind velvet ropes in the estate’s ballroom. This room will be the site of the auction tomorrow; today, it’s lined with white-gloved staff and professionally discreet security guards, keeping the viewing line moving. Yibo and Xiao Zhan fall in with the rest of the guests, following the flow of the room and inspecting the items up for bid.

“Hmm,” Xiao Zhan says as they approach the next red-draped table. “I like this one.”

Yibo tears his gaze away from the set of miniatures he’d been lingering over and looks up. “You like—” he sighs. “Of course you do.”

“A Zhang Ping original,” Xiao Zhan says, smile growing as he looks over the admittedly very good forgery of the Yangtze sunset hanging in Yibo’s living room. “Don’t see too many of those on the market.”

“The colors are nice,” Yibo says, looping an arm around Xiao Zhan’s and leaning on him for a moment. “I see why you like it.”

“Do you?” Xiao Zhan murmurs, but when Yibo looks up Xiao Zhan’s gaze is fixed on the painting.

“Come on,” Yibo says, pulling him away. “We have more to see.”

It takes a moment or two for the small crowd around the auction’s centerpiece to shift enough that they can get through, but when a woman in a floor-length black dress moves to the side Yibo’s breath catches in his chest.

The Fenghuang diamond sits nestled on a velvet-draped pedestal, just out of reach from the guideropes. Two security guards stand impassively behind it but Yibo can’t tear his eyes away from the diamond, sparkling in the late afternoon sunlight. The sky outside darkens, the clouds shifting over the sun for a moment, but the diamond seems to glow with it’s own inner light, bright and joyous.

This is the closest they’ve ever been to it. Yibo breathes with that for a moment, letting it settle in his bones. They’re so close. He’s only ever wanted one thing more in his life, and when he looks over Xiao Zhan’s eyes are shining just as brightly as the diamond on display.

Yibo tugs on Xiao Zhan’s arm, smiling as Xiao Zhan drags his gaze away. “Going to buy me this one?”

Xiao Zhan laughs, stepping back to let the next set of viewers take their place. “You know,” he says as they drift gently away with the crowd. “I think I will.”

“We have a problem,” Wang Yizhou says over comms and Xiao Zhan’s step hitches mid-stride.

“Problem?” he says mildly as Yibo slows to keep pace. The estate is quiet and dark around them, even the latest night-owls asleep or at least in their rooms.

“Yeah, a fucking problem,” Ji Li chimes in. “Security rotation’s been swapped up. Last minute change; probably someone noticed the missing phone and got paranoid.”

Xiao Zhan makes a little humming sound and keeps walking. Yibo continues rolling up his sleeves and lets Xiao Zhan think. While Yibo is down to his vest and shirtsleeves, Xiao Zhan’s tie lies loose around his neck, his jacket open to disguise the slim bag slung around his chest. They’re going to need plausible deniability if something goes wrong—more wrong—and it’s best to look like a couple of guests out for some midnight air for as long as that’s possible.

“Give me your smokes,” Xiao Zhan says, holding out his hand as they round the corner toward the safe room where the auction items are stored. Xuan Lu and Wang Zhuocheng are already waiting outside; Wang Zhuocheng’s fingers tap erratically against his thigh, but they still when Xuan Lu puts a hand briefly on his arm.

“Bad time to pick up the habit,” Yibo says, but he digs in his pocket for the cigarette case and lighter.

“Funny.” The slim case smacks into Xiao Zhan’s palm and he closes his fingers around it, thumb sliding over the lighter. “Stick to the plan. I’ll be your eyes on the outside.”

“You’ll—you’re not coming in?” Yibo says as they draw close to Xuan Lu and Wang Zhuocheng.

“You can see this through.” Xiao Zhan’s smile has a shadowed tilt to it as he unhooks the slingbag and hands it to Yibo. “I trust you.”

“You have the card?” Wang Zhuocheng asks quietly, and as Yibo’s fingers curl around the bag’s strap he tries to shake off the sense of wrongness Xiao Zhan’s smile sets into his gut. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen, they’re supposed to steal the diamond together—

Yibo blows out a breath, trying to quell the churning in his stomach. “Of course we have the card,” he says, drawing it from his pocket. The duped keycard had been underneath his pillow when they’d returned from the showing, right on schedule. Yibo had slid it into his pocket and refused to consider what kind of commentary Ji Li might have had about Yibo and Xiao Zhan sleeping in the same bed; Ji Li can talk all he wants once they’re out of here, several million richer all around.

The lock beeps gently at the first swipe of the card and the authenticator app on the cloned phone opens; Yibo holds his breath as he inputs the code, but the click of the door unlatching and the LED indicators turning from red to green are soft, anticlimactic.

Yibo holds his breath and pushes the door open. No alarms sound.

“I’ve cleared the entry from the log.” Meng Ziyi’s voice sounds calm and collected in his ear. “You have twenty-five minutes before the next physical check.”

Xiao Zhan puts a hand on the door to hold it open, jerking his head inside. Xuan Lu and Wang Zhuocheng are already heading in, but when Yibo goes to follow Xiao Zhan puts a hand on his elbow.

“You can see this through,” Xiao Zhan repeats softly, his face all in shadow. “I trust you.”

Then he’s shoving Yibo gently into the safe room and closing the door, and Yibo has to fight the sense that they’re both on the wrong side of it as the soft snick of the lock re-engaging sounds, loud in the silence. Yibo stares at the closed door, heart pounding.

“Everything okay?” Wang Zhuocheng asks quietly, and Yibo shakes himself and turns away from the door. Xuan Lu is already kneeling before the large Stevinger safe, purse open and tools laid out on the floor as her dress pools around her. She deftly unwinds a short length of wire, but even as her gloved fingers work Yibo can tell by the tilt of her head that she’s listening.

“We’re fine,” Yibo says, moving forward. “Stick to the plan. How’s it looking?” he asks, crouching next to Xuan Lu as he pulls a thin pair of gloves from his vest pocket.

“Don’t rush me,” Xuan Lu mutters as Yibo wriggles his hands into the gloves, but there’s a small puff of acrid smoke and an audible thunk from inside the safe. She grins and sets down the wire and the small attached battery. “Give me a minute.”

“You have all the time you need, as long as that’s less than—” Yibo checks his watch as he stands. “Twenty-three minutes now.”

The room is filled with other locked containers, and draped items too large to fit in any standard storage. Wang Zhuocheng is peeking behind the drape of a large painting, and as he lifts the cloth Yibo can see the flash of a Yangtze sunset.

“We’re only here for the diamond,” Yibo warns as he approaches, and Wang Zhuocheng lets the drape fall back down.

“That so?” he says, glancing at Yibo. “That’s all you’re getting out of this?”

Yibo absolutely refuses to address the question in the arch of Wang Zhuocheng’s eyebrow right now or maybe ever; definitely not on comms where everyone can hear.

“How’s our exit looking?” he says instead, turning to glance back toward the safe where Xuan Lu is doing something complicated with a long, thin tool, her ear pressed to the safe door.

“Clear and easy,” Xiao Zhan murmurs in his ear, and his relaxed tone eases some of the tightness in Yibo’s gut.

“Do you always talk this much on a job?” Xuan Lu demands. “No wonder you’re—aha.” There’s a faint hiss as the pressurized safe interior gives way, and as Xuan Lu sits up the door swings open underneath her hand.

Wang Zhuocheng rushes over but Yibo’s feet follow more slowly, as if dragging through quicksand. They’ve been after this diamond for so long; if it weren’t for the Fenghuang diamond he never even would have met Xiao Zhan, he would never have—

Wang Zhuocheng shifts out of the way and Yibo’s breath stills in his chest at the sight of the plain black case. Xuan Lu sits back on her heels and makes a go ahead gesture, and Yibo reaches inside of the safe. The case is pleasantly heavy in his hands and it takes him a moment to be able to open it. When he does, the air leaves his lungs all in a rush.

“How’s she look?” Xiao Zhan says, warm in his ear, and Yibo can feel the answering grin spread across his face.

“Beautiful,” he says as the Fenghuang diamond sparkles up at him.

Wang Zhuocheng has the bag prepped and open, replica diamond ready in one gloved hand. It doesn’t shine quite as brightly as the real thing, but it’ll be enough to fool the casual observer. A quick trade and the Fenghuang diamond is wrapped tightly in a microfiber cloth, stowed away in the bag and the replica nestled firmly in the case. Yibo shuts the lid tightly, hefting it in his hands for a moment, and then sets it carefully back in the safe. He steps back, letting Xuan Lu get to work resealing the safe, and takes the bag when Wang Zhuocheng hands it to him.

“Congratulations,” Wang Zhuocheng says as Yibo’s fingers close around the strap, and he sounds earnest, like he means it.

“Next time call me in on something that needs a real lightshow,” Xuan Lu says as the safe repressurizes. “I didn’t even get to—”

“Company,” Xiao Zhan’s voice interrupts her and Xuan Lu falls silent. “Coming up the stairwell, drawing keycards. Someone did get paranoid.”

Yibo slips the sling bag over his chest and starts for the door as Xuan Lu starts stuffing tools back in her purse. “Stall them while we get out?”

“Mmm.” There’s a heavy note in Xiao Zhan’s tone that slows Yibo’s feet as he approaches the door. “Hold until the noise dies down, then it’s emergency exits. Sorry about this,” he adds, and then there’s a screeching noise that jars down Yibo’s spine, as if—

The noise cuts off and Xuan Lu and Wang Zhuocheng lower their hands from their ears. Yibo can feel the blood draining from his face as he looks first at Wang Zhuocheng, then at Xuan Lu.

“He’s not—” he starts, and his stomach sinks when she raises her finger to her lips, face grave.

Yibo turns to look at the door.

“Hey, you—” the guard’s shout is muffled but clear enough even through the thick fireproof door. There’s a clatter from the other side, the sound of running feet, and a loud thump a few meters away.

“Hold—still,” a second voice says outside, and Yibo’s veins run cold. Xuan Lu’s hand grabs at his wrist and Yibo forces his hands to unclench, forces himself to keep breathing.

“Call it in and lock it down,” the first voice says, growing fainter as it recedes down the hallway. “He might not be alone. And get someone up here to do a proper check.”

Yibo counts to five after the last footstep has faded, and then to ten. He breathes in, and then out. He tries the door.

It swings open on an empty hallway, the silence ringing in his ears.

Xuan Lu and Wang Zhuocheng spill out behind him as Yibo gently shuts the door again, letting it lock. The team is silent in his earpiece.

“We have to—” Wang Zhuocheng starts, and Yibo shakes his head as he starts off down the hall. He’s never felt such clarity of purpose, like it’s all laid out in front of him in an adrenaline-fueled vision.

“You heard him,” Yibo says as he walks, undoing the catch of the bag with the diamond and sliding it off his shoulder. “Emergency exits, everyone. We’re vacating the premises.”

“You’re not leaving him,” Zheng Fanxing blurts over the line. He sounds very young. Was Yibo ever that young? He doesn’t feel like he has been for a long time.

“I won’t make anyone stay,” Yibo says, handing Wang Zhuocheng the bag. Wang Zhuocheng juggles it for a second as Yibo turns to Xuan Lu. “But I do have a favor to ask.”

“Now you want a lightshow?” Xuang Lu says, eyes gleaming.

Yibo nods, one corner of his mouth pulling up. “Now we need a lightshow.”

The key to a good bluff, Yibo has found, is to act like he has every right to be where he is, and when possible, to make the other party feel like they’re in the wrong. It is unfortunate in this situation that his face is already known to the security contingent, but that’s why Yibo has come prepared.

The security personnel in front of an unmarked door in a much plainer part of the estate raises his hands. “Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to—”

“Open that door,” Yibo says, flashing a badge in his face. “Now, before I have you all discharged for incompetence.”

The guard blinks and then does a double-take at the seal on the badge. “I—sir?”

“I said open,” Yibo says, holding the badge so the Ministry of Public Security seal is clearly visible. “The door.”

The security guard looks uncertain but he steps aside, opening the door and holding it. Yibo brushes past him, the seconds ticking down in his head.

Inside a second guard looks up, surprised. “Who are—”

Yibo shoves the badge in his face. “That’s my suspect you’re holding.”

The second guard frowns, eyes darting back and forth between the badge and Yibo’s face. “You were with him, you were—”

Yibo hasn’t dared look at the other person in the room, slowly straightening in a chair in the far corner. “Ever heard of being undercover?” He snaps the badge shut. “Run the badge number, it’ll check out,” he says. The badge ID will come back as legitimate, at least at first; Liu Haikuan had promised it would pass a cursory check. Enough to buy you a few minutes in a tough spot, Liu Haikuan had said, and a few minutes is all Yibo needs.

The second guard looks like he’s about a second away from asking to see the badge again and so Yibo turns to face Xiao Zhan. He looks tired but not much worse for wear, to Yibo’s relief, and his face is carefully neutral, his eyes trained on Yibo.

“I’ve been after this one for years,” Yibo says. “Waiting to catch him red-handed. If you’ve blown my case—”

A concussive boom cuts him off, the ground shaking underneath his feet, and Yibo staggers even though he’d known this was coming. He hisses through his teeth as he regains his footing, turning to face the two wide-eyed security guards.

“Do you see what you’re dealing with now?” Yibo demands as the screams and the yelling start to filter in. He knows Xuan Lu would have gone for showy as opposed to damaging, but the more angry guests start demanding an explanation the better, for Yibo’s purposes. “He clearly has accomplices.”

The security guards glance at one another, the radios on their belts squawking. Yibo scowls.

“I’ll take full responsibility for him,” Yibo says, jerking his head at Xiao Zhan. “You’d better go do your jobs.”

A secondary explosion shakes the building around them and the screaming redoubles. Yibo grits his teeth.

“Go,” he snaps, and the guards nearly trip over themselves in their haste to leave.

Yibo doesn’t waste a second, turning and grabbing Xiao Zhan by the arm, yanking him up out of the chair. “We got wheels?” Yibo asks as he drags Xiao Zhan out into the hallway.

“Ready and waiting,” Ji Li says in his ear. “East entrance.”

Xiao Zhan is quiet as Yibo marches him down the hall, until they’re nearly at the east entrance. “I thought I told you to get out,” he finally says, barely audible over the fire alarm blaring behind them.

Yibo glances over at him but doesn’t release his grip. “You did,” he says as he pushes out through the double doors and down the short flight of stairs toward the waiting car.

“I don’t mean to complain, but—” Xiao Zhan starts, and Yibo pulls the door of the car open and nearly throws him into the backseat.

“Then don’t,” Yibo says, sliding in and pulling the door shut as Ji Li peels away from the entrance. “How are we looking?” he says, turning to Ji Li.

“I like when you bring me toys like this one, you know that,” Ji Li says, patting the steering wheel of the car that Yibo recognizes from the underground garage of the estate. “But the others are out and headed for the northside dock, isn’t that right?”

“At the dock now,” Wang Yizhou confirms, crackly over the earpiece. “Boat’s pulling up. How far behind are you?”

“Four minutes,” Yibo says, glancing at the estate growing smaller behind them. The lights are blazing and smoke plumes from the other side of the building, but there’s no sign of pursuit.

“Two,” Ji Li says, and the engine revs as the car leaps forward.

“The diamond?” Xiao Zhan says. His face is in shadow when Yibo turns to look at him.

“There are at least three different ways we could have gotten out of that room,” Yibo says instead of answering. “Why did you think getting grabbed was the solution?”

“Here we go,” Ji Li mutters underneath his breath. Yibo ignores him. They’re not out of this yet, but now that he has Xiao Zhan back in arm’s reach, the things bubbling up in his chest won’t be ignored any longer.

Xiao Zhan’s half-smile shines in the darkness. “The best way to halt a search for a thief is to catch one,” he says. “I owed you the diamond. This was an acceptable trade.”

Yibo’s breath catches in his chest. “And if I said I don’t have it?” he says, heart racing.

Xiao Zhan is silent for a long moment, and then he sighs, leaning back in the seat. “It was all for you,” he says quietly. “All of it. You were supposed to be set up for life, that’s what I promised you when we first met. I didn’t know how else to pay you back for getting tangled up with me.”

Yibo feels lightheaded, with both adrenaline and the way Ji Li takes the last turn before the dock. “Well then it’s a good thing I don’t have it,” he says, and Xiao Zhan sighs.

“I’m beginning to think there’s something to that curse thing—” he starts mournfully.

“I was busy getting you out,” Yibo interrupts. “So I handed it off. It’s already on the boat.”

Xiao Zhan starts. “You—we did it?” he says, disbelief clear in his voice.

“We did it,” Yibo confirms as the car screeches to a halt in front of the dock. “No thanks to your heroics.”

Xiao Zhan is still blinking when he stumbles out into the lights of the island’s northernmost dock. A second car from the estate’s garage sits empty next to theirs, and Wang Zhuocheng waves from the boat with low running lights idling up at the farthest end of the pier. The slingbag with the diamond is still clutched in his hand, and Yibo grins.

A matching smile starts to grow on Xiao Zhan’s face as they hurry down the pier toward the boat. “You told me you grew up while I was gone,” he says self-deprecatingly. “I guess you really don’t need me anymore, huh.”

“Oh please,” Ji Li says as they approach the end of the pier. Yibo considers pushing him into the water, but that will only delay them more. “You should have seen the moping this one did when you went away the first time. If you think any of us are going to let that happen again—”

“Hey—” Yibo starts, but Ji Li is already scrambling over the side of the boat, Xuan Lu helping him up.

“Honestly, have you tried using your words?” she says, staring severely at Xiao Zhan as she extends a hand down toward Yibo. He takes it, pulling himself up over the side as the purr of the boat’s motor grows louder.

“Yeah,” Yu Bin says, appearing at the rail and leaning down to help Xiao Zhan up. “The next time you two have a fight I’m not robbing the World Bank, I’m not doing it.”

“All right, all right,” Xiao Zhan says once his feet are on the deck. He straightens as the boat pulls smoothly away from the dock. “Anyone else have anything they want to add while we’re doing this?”

There’s a disjointed round of yeses from both the deck and inside the cabin, and Xiao Zhan laughs and puts his hands up. “I promise to let you all tell me individually and collectively that I was an idiot, but—” he’s looking at Yibo, eyes dark and intent. “Could you give us a minute?”

Ji Li sighs heavily but he’s the first one inside the cabin. The others follow, and Yibo digs his earpiece out of his ear, turning it off and dropping it over the railing. Xiao Zhan sighs and blows out a breath, pulling the loose tie from where it still lies around his neck. He wraps it around his hand, pulling it tight; he flexes his fingers, looking down at where the tie is wrapped around his knuckles.

“Where’d you get the badge?” Xiao Zhan asks, and out of all the things he might say, that’s not the one Yibo had thought he’d lead with.

“Liu Haikuan,” he says, leaning against the rail. “While you and Zhu Zanjin were arguing about price. It seemed like a good failsafe.”

Xiao Zhan huffs, unwrapping his hand. “You planned for something like this?”

Yibo hums. “I’ve thought a lot about that night, the night you got caught,” he says, and Xiao Zhan looks up.

“That wasn’t your fault,” he says, and Yibo shakes his head.

“I know that,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean I have to let it happen a second time.”

Xiao Zhan stares at him. “Yibo—”

“I can’t change what happened,” Yibo says determinedly. “But I’m not leaving you behind, not ever again.”

Xiao Zhan is silent for a long moment. “Would you have left it?” he asks eventually. “The diamond. If you had to choose.”

“In a heartbeat,” Yibo says, because there is no choice there, none at all. “You?”

The smile on Xiao Zhan’s face is small but real, brilliant in the moonlight. “It was only ever for you, I told you that.”

“Well.” Yibo suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “It’s a good thing Wang Zhuocheng came along after all, then.”

Xiao Zhan tips his head back and laughs, loud and breathless until he has to lean against the railing and wipe at his eyes. Yibo grins along with him, something light and giddy taking up all the space in his chest until it’s difficult to breathe around. Xiao Zhan reaches out a hand and Yibo takes it. It’s the easiest thing in the world, to curl his fingers around Xiao Zhan’s, to feel the heat of Xiao Zhan’s palm against his own. Yibo would risk everything, would leave everything behind in order to have this.

Xiao Zhan chuckles, breath calming. “We should go inside before Ji Li starts heckling,” he suggests.

“There is nothing that will keep Ji Li from heckling,” Yibo predicts, but he lets Xiao Zhan pull him along, into the warmth and the light and the cheers of the crowded little cabin, and he doesn’t let go.

They dock at a little-used pier on the east side of the lake. The lights of the island and the estate are lost far behind them, and the black waters of the lake reflect only the lights of the pier when they disembark.

A duffel bag in the trunk of a car parked at the edge of the water holds new identities and fresh clothing for everyone. Xuan Lu in particular is happy to exchange her evening gown for a track suit. Yibo stuffs their discarded clothing into the weighted duffel and drops it off the side of the pier, watching it sink until it disappears from view and the bubbles stop.

When he looks up Wang Zhuocheng is approaching, holding out the bag with the diamond in it. Yibo takes it, hefting it in his hand.

“Congratulations,” Wang Zhuocheng says. There are shades of meaning in that, but Yibo chooses to hear only one. He slips the bag over his head, settling the strap around his chest.

“It was a team effort,” he says, and for some reason this makes Wang Zhuocheng smile.

“Yes,” he says, turning to look back toward the shore. “It was.” Yibo follows his gaze and sees Xiao Zhan with his head bent close to Xuan Lu’s. Xuan Lu sketches out an arc with her hands, eyes shining, and Xiao Zhan nods along, a smile stretching across his face.

“What’s next for you?” Yibo asks, and Wang Zhuocheng shrugs as he turns back.

“Whatever Lulu wants,” he says, and there’s a shade of barely concealed delight there that raises one of Yibo’s eyebrows.

“Should I be congratulating you?” he asks as Xuan Lu turns and waves at them, gesturing them back up the pier.

Wang Zhuocheng ducks his head as they head back toward the others. “It’s early days yet. But—” he sighs happily, his grin lighting up as he looks back towards the shore. “Maybe.”

Zheng Fanxing and Yu Bin peel off first. The bags underneath Zheng Fanxing’s eyes match the ones under Yu Bin’s, but his smile is wide and infectious, and the bounce in his step as he and Yu Bin head off toward the nearest train station makes Yibo forget about the gritty feeling beneath his eyelids. The kid’s all right, Yibo decides as he watches them go in the early gray light.

Ji Li and Wang Yizhou are next; they take the car and Meng Ziyi too, once she confirms they’re going in her direction. Meng Ziyi even waves cheerfully as they drive away, and as Yibo waves back he hopes that means they’re even.

Wang Zhuocheng and Xuan Lu are last, and Yibo pointedly makes no comment on the careful hand Wang Zhuocheng puts on Xuan Lu’s back, or on the fond tilt to Xuan Lu’s smile when she glances at Wang Zhuocheng. From the way that Xuan Lu sniffs at him before slipping on her sunglasses, Yibo supposes that his grin says enough.

And then it’s just the two of them, Yibo and Xiao Zhan, the first light of dawn at their backs and a priceless diamond in the bag slung around Yibo’s chest.

Xiao Zhan smiles, hopeful and familiar, and nudges Yibo’s shoulder with his own. “You know they say that thing is cursed, right?”

Yibo elbows him in the side. “Don’t tell me you’re a believer now.”

Xiao Zhan laughs, twisting out of the way and clutching at his side. “I believe in the things that count.”

“Oh yeah?” Yibo runs a hand through his hair. He can only imagine what it looks like right now. “And what are those?”

“Carats. A good team.” Xiao Zhan tilts his head, his smile softening. “You.”

Yibo feels his cheeks heating. Xiao Zhan doesn’t laugh or change the subject, just looks at Yibo with that fond gaze Yibo can feel all the way down to his toes, and so Yibo does the only thing he can think of to get back at him.

“Ah—” Xiao Zhan says as Yibo grabs his collar, but whatever else he was going to say is swallowed up by Yibo’s mouth on his. Xiao Zhan makes a surprised noise but he catches on quickly, he always does, and the warm slide of his lips on Yibo’s feels more precious than the diamond hanging at Yibo’s back.

Xiao Zhan hums, blinking slowly when Yibo pulls back. His smile could rival the dawn, and Yibo feels his own growing to match.

“Mm,” Xiao Zhan says as Yibo settles back on his heels, releasing Xiao Zhan’s collar. “I’m thinking breakfast. Are you in?”

Yibo is pushing twenty-four hours awake. He’s just pulled off the biggest job of his career, the kind he can retire on. He’s nearly lost Xiao Zhan and then gained him back again, in a way that Yibo had thought out of reach forever. He knows what life without Xiao Zhan is like; to have him back is enough.

Yibo is a thief by trade and a gambler by nature, but Xiao Zhan doesn’t feel like a gamble, not at all.

“Breakfast,” Yibo says, reaching out to tangle his fingers with Xiao Zhan’s. “Yeah. I’m in.”