Calling Out His Name

When Wuming and Qing Lok got home, they both went to their bedrooms. Wuming to sleep some more and Qing Lok to change clothes.

"You ready to bolt again?" asked Wuming as he leaned against the doorframe of his brother. Qing Lok pulled open a closet door and pulled out another shirt.

"Is this okay?" he asked, pressing it against his body.

"I'm not the person you should be asking that," Wuming smiled. "You must really like her, huh?"

"I got her messages when we landed. She was really worried. I'm really tired and I want to sleep in my bed, but I don't think she'll be fine until she sees me in person—that I am still alive and breathing."

"You must really like her." Wuming was happy for his brother. That was not even something to doubt. 

Qing Lok pointed a finger at him. "As soon as I get enough sleep, I will find someone for you. Someone from the mafia—or some mafia don's daughter and we're going to set you up on a date."