Chapter 8 — “A Cage with Velvet Walls”

The city felt different at dawn — same grey streets, same neon signs flickering half-dead, but the cold bit deeper this time.

Zhenyu leaned against the window of Yu Bai's car, eyes half-closed. The taste of last night clung to the inside of his mouth — copper, rain, and the press of Yu Bai's teeth on his lower lip.

He should've run. He should've screamed.

Instead, he'd let the door close behind him and stayed pressed against Yu Bai's side like a stray starved for warmth.

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They didn't speak all the way to the office — his new office, Chen had called it. A legitimate business, registered clean. A bland metal plaque by the door: "Hengli Holdings, Subsidiary Division." A cover, neat and polished, for the teeth behind it.

Inside, everything smelled of fresh paint and new carpet. The lobby glowed under halogen lights. A bored receptionist didn't dare meet Yu Bai's eyes when they stepped out of the elevator.

Zhenyu's throat felt raw. "What is this, really?"

Yu Bai didn't answer — not with words. He pressed a hand to the small of Zhenyu's back, steering him through the glass doors into a corner office that smelled faintly of sawdust and leather polish.

The windows looked out over the river — the same river that last night had washed some man's blood into the drains. The same water, the same city — but now Zhenyu was inside, warm, locked behind glass.

---

Chen appeared at the threshold, folders stacked high against his chest. "We've drafted the new director contract. Full salary. Health insurance. Apartment lease signed. Custody appeal will go smoother if you have stable income."

Zhenyu stared at the neat rows of numbers on the top sheet. He didn't touch it. "You really think she'll let me have him back?"

Yu Bai stepped in before Chen could lie. "No. She'll fight until she bleeds out. But she'll lose."

Zhenyu's fingers curled in his lap. He didn't remember sitting down, but Yu Bai's hand was already on his shoulder, thumb brushing over the bruise at the base of his throat like a claim.

"I'm not a director," Zhenyu muttered. "I'm nobody."

Yu Bai's laugh was a low rumble in his chest. "You're mine. That's enough."

---

They left Chen with the papers and moved to the floor's empty balcony — a private terrace, glass walls high enough to keep prying eyes out.

The city spread below them in a grey, churning sprawl. Zhenyu leaned over the railing, eyes half-closed, letting the wind numb his cheeks.

Yu Bai stood behind him, arms folded, back pressed to the cold glass. The silence stretched until Zhenyu's thoughts broke it.

"That man last night. Did he have kids?" His voice was hoarse. "Did you even check?"

Yu Bai didn't blink. "He chose to lie. He chose to sell you out."

Zhenyu's stomach twisted — but under the shame was a sick, warm glow.

Nobody had ever fought for him like that. Not his ex-wife, not his parents, not the friends who vanished when the scandals broke.

Yu Bai. Always Yu Bai.

A laugh scraped out of him, dry and brittle. "You're a monster."

Yu Bai stepped closer — one hand on the railing beside Zhenyu's, the other slipping around his waist. "You should be more careful what you feed strays," he murmured, lips brushing Zhenyu's ear.

Zhenyu shivered. He wanted to pull away. Instead, his knuckles whitened around the railing.

"I should hate you," he breathed.

Yu Bai's teeth grazed his throat, gentle at first — then sharp enough to make him flinch. "So hate me."

Zhenyu let out a choked sound — half-laugh, half-sob — when Yu Bai's mouth closed over his pulse, sucking a bruise into the skin just below his collar.

His body betrayed him — hips shifting back, eyes fluttering shut. He hated the heat that curled in his stomach — the relief. The sick comfort of knowing if the world wanted to devour him, Yu Bai would tear its throat out first.

---

Later, Zhenyu sat behind his new desk — the smell of new leather and polished steel thick in the air. He flipped through files he barely understood, the numbers swimming.

Two new security details — one for him, one for the baby if he won visitation. The names were all fake on paper but Zhenyu recognized some of them — old faces from the neighborhood, the same boys who used to mug tourists for scraps, now wearing suits too clean to be honest.

Yu Bai leaned against the doorway, watching him read. "Do you feel safe?"

Zhenyu didn't look up. "Safe from what? The world or you?"

Yu Bai's smile was a blade. "Does it matter?"

---

The day blurred — meetings, papers, hollow polite smiles from people who looked right past him to the man at his back. Every time Zhenyu's hands shook, Yu Bai was there — palm pressed to his shoulder, knuckles grazing the inside of his wrist.

The ex-wife's lawyer called midafternoon — a voicemail, clipped and cold, promising more fights to come. Zhenyu wanted to throw the phone through the window. Yu Bai plucked it from his hand, pressed a kiss to the inside of his palm instead.

"Let them come," Yu Bai whispered. "Let them see who holds the leash."

---

That night, the apartment felt like a hotel — too clean, too empty, no echo of the old moldy stairwell where they'd first shared stale bread and whispered promises to run away.

Zhenyu sat on the edge of the bed, fingers tracing the bandage on his wrist where Yu Bai's grip had split the skin. His reflection in the window looked like a ghost — hollow-eyed, bruised, but somehow... still standing.

Yu Bai appeared behind him, towel draped over his shoulder, hair still damp from the shower. He dropped the towel onto Zhenyu's lap and nudged his knees apart.

Zhenyu's breath hitched when Yu Bai crowded close, pressing him back into the mattress. Their mouths met — a kiss that tasted like old fear and new lies.

This time, Zhenyu didn't push him away. His fingers fisted in the sheets instead — a helpless clutch for something solid.

"You're safe," Yu Bai whispered against his lips. His hand slipped under Zhenyu's shirt, palm flat against his ribs where no one else could touch. "I'll kill them all if they ever look at you again."

Zhenyu hated how good that promise felt — the cage and the warmth in the same breath.

And when Yu Bai's teeth scraped his jaw, the part of him that still believed he could run, curled up and died.

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