Chapter Text
Tonight, the wind is gentle, a stark contrast to the relentless rain of the past few days.
The weather feels balmy, like the dark clouds have finally parted to make way for the lucent moon above.
Hua Cheng draws in a long breath, filling his lungs with the cool night air, trying to steady the restless energy coiling in his chest.
Behind him, the front door of their house creaks shut.
He Xuan moves with quiet efficiency, loading the trunk of their NIO ET7 with everything they will need for the journey.
Finally, it’s time!
Years of waiting — eight to be precise — gone like a whiff of smoke, leaving trails of ash that still smoulder, one spark away from blazing anew.
And tonight, they intend to stir them back into flame — a beacon to commence their long-awaited revenge.
The trunk shuts with a dull thud.
He Xuan slides into the driver’s seat as Hua Cheng takes one last look at their childhood home.
Bà, Mā…soon you can rest in peace!!
Hua Cheng leaves the soundless prayer to the wind, then swiftly steps into the car.
The engine hums to life, quiet but powerful, and soon the car glides down the empty road.
Streetlights streak past in slow intervals.
For a while, neither of them speaks.
Hua Cheng watches the city lights fade into darkness, his elbow resting against the window. The reflection of the passing lights glints faintly in his eye.
After a few minutes, He Xuan breaks the silence.
“Did he call?”
Hua Cheng hums in acknowledgement.
“En.”
“And?”
“The fluffy-haired rascal will handle the cameras,” Hua Cheng replies lazily. “As long as we leave before the loop resets.”
He Xuan glances at him briefly before returning his attention to the road.
“How long?”
“Twenty minutes.”
The number hangs between them.
More than enough time to accomplish their plan. Or maybe… nowhere enough.
The highway stretches ahead like a ribbon of silver beneath the moon as Hua Cheng’s thoughts drift into the past.
Eight years ago, neither of them would have imagined driving down this road together — literally and figuratively.
Eight years ago, they were just teenagers. Well-loved. Whole.
Eight years ago, their family was complete.
Now, the man who had taken everything from them is still ruling the province from behind high walls and polished speeches.
Jun Wu, Provincial Party Secretary of Xianle.
The most powerful man in the province.
A man the public praised as a visionary leader.
A man whose three-tiered mask no one had ever managed to tear down.
Fifteen years—the man has ruled Xianle.
Where most party secretaries barely lasted five years, he had held the position three times longer.
Kleptocracy and the careful monopolisation of power ensured his longevity, allowing him to steer the lives of everybody like pieces on a chessboard.
And unfortunately, Hua Cheng’s and He Xuan’s foster father was one of the meek victims in that game.
They had been ten when the Han family finally welcomed them into their home.
Before that, their lives had been scattered across orphanages and foster homes.
Well, He Xuan lived in foster homes, while Hua Cheng remained behind in an old, unfunded orphanage.
Thinking back, those were the days Hua Cheng hated most. Though his belly was full, and clothes clean, the title of curse-eyed weirdo was too hard to shake.
All he recalled were jabs — some in words but mostly in actions.
It wasn’t until he was seven that the orphanage brought in another boy his age, He Xuan.
For the first time, Hua Cheng had someone akin to family.
They fought and bickered like the rowdy boys they were. But beneath it all lay an unspoken promise: wherever life took them, they would hold on to each other.
And that’s when the Hans appeared to foster the last remaining boys of the orphanage.
Mr Han Wu and his wife, Mrs Xue Mei, became their parents from the very first day.
Mr Han—who always smelled faintly of diesel and rain—worked as a transport driver for Jun Wu.
Mrs Mei—who smelled of ink and spices—spent her days surrounded by books and the warmth of the kitchen.
While Mr Han drove long distances carrying licensed weapons shipments across provincial borders, Mrs Mei filled their small house with the scent of curries and the rustle of turning pages.
They didn’t have much — just a meagre wage and a modest home. But Hua Cheng and He Xuan lived like supremes in the Han's household.
Before long, Mr Han and Mrs Mei became Bà and Mā, and the boys — their own sons.
Then one day, everything changed.
A shipment went “missing.” Jun Wu’s administration needed a scapegoat. And Bà was accused of illegal arms diversion.
In the blink of an eye, their lives shattered like falling dominoes.
Bà’s license got revoked, assets frozen, and the media branded him a traitor.
Public humiliation drove both Bà and Mā into a spiral of depression.
At fourteen, Hua Cheng and He Xuan went from door to door, knocking on the offices of lawyers, begging for justice.
Every last penny was spent fighting the case.
In the end, they lost everything.
Two years after the incident, Bà and Mā died, in what authorities coldly labelled a “domestic incident”, leaving Hua Cheng and He Xuan in rage and pain.
“...hey hey, Hong-er…”
Hua Cheng jolts from the voice next to him.
“What?”
“Where did you go, man?” He Xuan glances sideways. “We’re close. Take out the masks.”
Hua Cheng nods quietly, opening the glove box to pull out two face masks — one red and one black. He tosses the black one to He Xuan.
As he stares out at the road ahead, the memories slowly settle back into the quiet corners of his mind.
Eight years.
That was how long they had waited for justice.
If the people who swore to uphold justice could not deliver it…perhaps it is time to relieve them of the burden.
Besides, what was the point of revenge if it wasn’t served cold?
And the best way to do it…? Is to start where it would hurt the most.
Hua Cheng’s pulse quickens as the landscape outside the window begins to change.
The dull, cracked roads give way to smooth asphalt lined with rows of high-quality streetlights.
Just beyond those lights stands the Wuyong Beach House.
And inside it—
Jun Wu’s most precious possession.
Tonight, they intend to take it from him.
The asphalt road narrows as they leave the main highway behind. Soon, the streetlights disappear, replaced by the pale glow of the moon and the distant shimmer of water.
Hua Cheng lowers the window to let the salty, cool air rush inside.
The wind carries the faint roar of waves. In the distance, the ocean stretches like a sheet of dark glass beneath the sky.
The car slows as He Xuan turns onto a smaller road that snakes along the coastline. Gravel crunches softly beneath the tyres.
Neither of them speaks.
Ahead, beyond a line of wind-bent pines, a structure slowly comes into view.
The Wuyong Beach House.
It sits alone on a stretch of private coastline, its sleek glass walls glowing faintly with warm interior lights. The house faces the ocean — a wide wooden deck extending toward the sand below.
From a distance, it looks peaceful—almost inviting.
The kind of place where powerful men escape the noise of the world.
The perfect place to recuperate.
He Xuan eases the car to a stop behind a cluster of trees overlooking the property.
From here, the long driveway leading to the front gate is clearly visible.
Two guards stand beneath the dim light of a small security booth, their silhouettes outlined by the glow of cigarettes.
Hua Cheng studies them silently.
Just as they were informed.
Beyond the gate, a narrow driveway winds toward the house, disappearing between dark hedges and tall coastal shrubs.
Several security cameras hang along the fence line, their small red indicator lights blinking lazily.
Or at least they should be blinking.
Instead, every single one remains dark.
For a moment, neither of them moves.
Then Hua Cheng lets out a quiet breath, “Looks like the rascal did his job.”
Inside that peaceful estate lies the man Jun Wu values most in the world.
Xie Lian.
Upcoming Youth Leader, aka Xianle’s darling prince — Jun Wu’s adopted son.
The one who disappeared from the public eye when he was seventeen due to a mental breakdown.
The one who was recently announced to make a comeback by Jun Wu himself.
Tonight, they are going to take him.
If only Jun Wu were present there.
It would have been more thrilling to snatch him right under his guardian’s nose.
Hua Cheng and He Xuan step outside the car as a barrage of cool wind greets them.
From their vantage point behind the trees, the gate of the Wuyong Beach House is clearly visible.
Two guards linger beneath the dim light of the security booth.
One leans lazily against the wall, cigarette glowing faintly in the dark. The other scrolls through something on his phone, shoulders hunched against the wind.
Neither of them looks particularly alert.
Beside the car, Hua Cheng pulls the red mask over the lower half of his face — just in case.
Next to him, He Xuan does the same, then opens a small case and removes two compact dart pistols.
He passes one of them to Hua Cheng.
“Ready?”
Hua Cheng smirks, eye fixed on his prey.
“Together on the count of three”.
Two sets of arms stretch, aiming towards the targets.
One
Two
Three…
A pair of darts fly simultaneously with a soft thup.
A moment later, both guards stiffen, confusion crossing their faces before collapsing on the ground together.
Hua Cheng snorts quietly as He Xuan sets a vibrating timer in his watch.
Twenty minutes.
No time to waste.
They move from the trees and cross the gravel driveway.
Up close, the guards look even less impressive than they did from a distance.
As they pass, He Xuan crouches briefly, pulling the small tranquilliser darts free with practised ease. He examines one for a moment before flicking it back into the case.
“Useless.”
Hua Cheng huffs out a quiet laugh as they step through the open gate and into the compound.
The beach house glows softly under the moonlight.
Once they reach the front door, He Xuan takes out his lock pick set and gets to work.
Inside the kit, there are all kinds of picks, wrenches, and plug spinners to manipulate the lock.
“I’ve been waiting to do this my whole life,” the idiot mutters, already sliding in the first pick.
It doesn’t take long.
Two minutes, at most.
The heavy double doors surrender with a quiet click.
The door opens to a vast, luxurious living room—unlike anything Hua Cheng has ever seen. Polished marble floors gleam beneath their feet, reflecting faint silhouettes if one looks closely enough. A massive chandelier hangs above, unlit, its crystals dull in the dark. Even so, He Xuan pauses for a brief second to admire it.
Despite having the floor plan, the interior feels unreal—like something pulled straight out of a home décor magazine.
An old gramophone sits atop a rosewood bureau to the left, oddly out of place as the only visible source of entertainment. According to their informer, Jun Wu despises news channels and social media, so the absence of a television makes sense.
Hua Cheng pulls out the folded floor plan from inside his coat.
Jun Wu’s master bedroom is on the first floor—right beside the entrance. Empty, most likely.
The room where Xie Lian should be is upstairs.
There is no one else in the house—except Jun Wu’s personal secretary, Lang Ying, and Xie Lian.
The lack of house staff, though slightly strange, works in their favour.
They move toward the spiral staircase on the left, passing the open kitchen and dining area. The wall beside the stairs is lined with decorative lamps—and mounted animal heads.
Deer with sprawling antlers.
A bear, jaws frozen mid-snarl.
And a one-eyed giraffe.
He Xuan throws Hua Cheng a look filled with silent questions and mild disgust.
Hua Cheng simply shakes his head and nudges him forward.
They’ve already wasted five minutes.
The moment they step onto the upper floor, something shifts.
The luxury vanishes.
Dust gathers along the floorboards. Thin cobwebs stretch across the ceiling corners. The air feels stale—unused.
Hua Cheng and He Xuan exchange a brief, uneasy glance before moving forward.
The bedroom to their right must be Xie Lian’s, as it is the only one with a private balcony and an ensuite. The other two, across the hall, share a bathroom between them.
The door to Xie Lian’s room is ajar, and Hua Cheng already knows what they will find before He Xuan opens the room.
It’s vacant. Plain and unlived-in.
Hua Cheng checks the ensuite while He Xuan slides open the balcony door.
Nothing.
“The other two rooms,” He Xuan whispers, already turning.
Hua Cheng follows—but something catches his eye.
A white silk ribbon lies abandoned on the floor.
He picks it up to examine. It looks ordinary at first glance—about a meter long, faintly shimmering under the pale moonlight.
He brings it towards his nose, and the scent almost throws him off.
Plum blossoms.
And something that can only be called a person’s pheromone.
Hua Cheng considers throwing it back on the floor. But something inside him refuses. He stuffs it inside his pocket before thinking too much and walks out of the room.
He Xuan is already coming out of one of the rooms, brows narrowed in annoyance. In the dim light, he looks vaguely like an anglerfish. “What were you doing there?”
Hua Cheng swallows the instinctive ‘shut up’. “Nothing. Found anything?”
He Xuan shakes his head and pushes open the shared bathroom door.
Nope. Empty.
“...So, he’s not here, I guess”, He Xuan mumbles.
Hua Cheng sighs in disappointment, “Seems like it.”
He Xuan checks his watch, “Just five minutes more, let’s go,” he says, before dragging Hua Cheng down the stairs.
Something doesn’t sit right. Their informer wouldn’t misinform them. Hua Cheng trusts him with everything.
The only possible explanation might be a last-minute change of plans, where Jun Wu took Xie Lian with him to the convention.
If that’s the case, they might have to re-plan everything.
Damn it.
Hua Cheng clenches his jaw. He can’t believe that the perfect chance to tear out Jun Wu’s heart, just like he did to them, has been in vain.
They are halfway back toward the gate when Hua Cheng suddenly stops.
He Xuan notices immediately. “What?”
Hua Cheng doesn’t answer. His gaze has drifted past the sleek beach house, past the trimmed garden and the empty patio facing the sea.
Near the shoreline, partially hidden behind a row of wind-bent trees, stands a smaller structure.
Not part of the house.
A shed.
Its wooden walls are weathered, the paint peeled by years of salt wind. One weak yellow bulb hangs above the door, swaying faintly in the breeze.
From a distance, it almost looks abandoned.
But the light is on.
Hua Cheng tilts his head slightly. “That on the blueprint?”
He Xuan frowns. “…No.”
That alone is enough.
Without another word, they change direction.
The closer they get, the stronger the smell becomes.
Saltwater.
Rust.
And something faintly metallic beneath it.
The shed door is locked, but the old padlock offers little resistance to He Xuan’s lock pick set.
A quiet click, and the door creaks open.
Inside, the air is colder.
The single bulb hanging from the ceiling flickers weakly, revealing a cramped storage space cluttered with ropes, old fishing nets, and stacked crates.
But what draws their attention immediately is the far corner.
Metal bars.
A kennel.
Too large for a dog.
Too small for comfort.
Inside it lies a still shape wrapped in white.
For a moment, neither of them moves.
He Xuan glances at him for a second before stepping closer, “Is that a person?”
Hua Cheng turns on the torch on his phone and crouches beside the kennel.
His pulse jumps.
That is a person. Dressed in shaggy white clothes, lying like a coiled snake at the corner.
One of their legs is locked in a chain shackle, and there appears to be another ring-like shackle —almost like a collar— around the person’s neck, fastened to the metal bar with a chain.
“Who— who is that?” Hua Cheng whispers.
“That’s him,” He Xuan answers — surety in his voice.
The figure inside shifts slightly as the light reaches his face.
Long chestnut hair spills across the thin blanket beneath him.
Pale skin.
Sharp, delicate features that Hua Cheng has only seen a long time ago in news articles and television broadcasts.
Even half-conscious and curled on the cold floor, he looks nothing short of a beautiful prince.
Xie Lian.
For a moment, Hua Cheng simply stares.
Not at the identity.
But at the cage.
Something sharp twists in his chest.
“…he kept him like this?” he murmurs under his breath.
“We should leave,” He Xuan says, tugging Hua Cheng’s arm to grab his attention. “He’s already half dead. We won't have much use of him if this is how Jun Wu treats him”.
It makes sense.
But Hua Cheng sees a crack underneath the cold logic. “If Jun Wu treats him like this, then he’ll be more useful to us than we can imagine.”
“What do you mean?” He Xuan asks, cold eyes fixed on the limp body.
“Now we have blackmail material on top of a captive”.
He Xuan smirks at his answer, “Okay, then the plan is back on?”
Hua Cheng nods.
He feels something shifting inside him.
Not because of revenge. But now there’s a need to know why Xianle’s upcoming youth leader and people’s prince is shackled inside an animal cage.
He Xuan is already trying different picks and wrenches to unlock the kennel when Hua Cheng suddenly notices something shiny on the ground.
A key.
Placed almost mockingly right next to the kennel.
He Xuan grabs it immediately, “What kinda fool is this Jun Wu?”
However, Hua Cheng realises the intention behind such a move, “There’s more to this than we think”.
“En. Cocky bastard,” He Xuan mutters quietly as he slides the key into the lock with a soft click.
The cage door swings open.
He Xuan tries the same key to unlock the shackle around Xie Lian’s ankle.
Unsurprisingly, it opens instantly.
“What about his neck collar?” He Xuan turns back to ask. “This key won’t fit”.
Hua Cheng looks around to find any more keys before a low groan catches their attention.
Xie Lian rouses slowly from his sleep, stretching out his legs.
His eyes flicker on both of them before his lips curve in a soft smile, “Did he finally allow me to be released?”
Hua Cheng’s breath catches in his chest at the mellow voice.
So, this is indeed Jun Wu’s doing.
Hua Cheng casts a look at He Xuan.
They don’t reply; instead, He Xuan leans forward to prod Xie Lian’s collar lock with another pick.
Xie Lian jerks away all of a sudden, realisation flickering in his golden eyes. “He—he didn’t send you, did he?” his voice wavers.
Hua Cheng feels a cold sweat breaking down his spine. But before he can do or say anything, He Xuan stuffs a gag inside Xie Lian’s mouth.
“I can’t unlock this,” he says, waving the useless pick at Hua Cheng.
Xie Lian kicks and pushes at He Xuan’s arm.
The sight —for some reason— angers and unsettles Hua Cheng at once, “What about the chain to the bar? Can you cut it?”
“Wait, I have a bolt cutter—”
Xie Lian thrashes on hearing this, his scream muffled by the gag.
Suddenly, He Xuan all but barks, “Take the syringe. Do it,” trying his best to restrain Xie Lian.
Hua Cheng’s eyes widen, “What?”
He Xuan’s grip tightens as Xie Lian struggles harder, the metal collar clinking sharply against the bars.
“Do it. There’s no time,” he snaps again.
For a second —just a second— Hua Cheng doesn’t move.
His hand hovers near his coat.
The syringe feels heavier than it should when he pulls it out.
“Hold him still,” he croaks out.
He Xuan forces Xie Lian’s arm out from beneath him, pinning it down despite the frantic resistance.
Hua Cheng steps closer, fingers closing around his arm.
Warm.
Too warm.
Xie Lian stills.
Not completely—but enough.
Hua Cheng’s gaze lifts at him, and the sight unnerves him.
The golden eyes look pleading. As if asking why.
Hua Cheng’s grip falters, but under He Xuan’s threatening growl, he presses the needle into Xie Lian’s thin skin.
Xie Lian flinches.
His fingers twitch weakly against Hua Cheng’s sleeve, as if trying to hold onto something that isn’t there.
Those golden eyes never leave his face.
Even as they begin to lose focus.
Even as the tension drains from his body.
Even as he finally goes still.
Hua Cheng’s hand remains where it is for a moment too long.
It’s just to help you, he mumbles internally.
He Xuan has already started cutting the chain with a bolt cutter.
They need to find a way to remove this collar somehow.
“...let’s go,” He Xuan mutters once the collar is separated from the chain.
Hua Cheng doesn’t respond, silently pulls Xie Lian’s limp body towards him to lift him.
As they step out of the shed, the wind has picked up.
The sea roars louder now, waves crashing harder against the shore.
Behind them, the Wuyong Beach House stands silent.
Untouched.
Ahead of them, everything has changed.
Hua Cheng tightens his hold around Xie Lian, glancing down at the way his head rests right over Hua Cheng’s heart.
Eight years of waiting.
Eight years of rage.
Eight years of planning.
And yet—
— This doesn’t feel like victory.
Not yet. Not like this.
Because that look—
Those pleading eyes—
Burns itself into his mind.
And he will remember it.
He already knows he will.
Forever.