Chapter 7 — “A Promise Written in Blood”

The night air stank of motor oil and wet pavement.

Zhenyu sat in the back seat of Yu Bai's car, forehead pressed to the cold window. The city blurred past — neon signs, rain-slick streets, people who didn't know his name and would spit on it if they did.

Yu Bai hadn't said a word since they left the apartment. Just a curt nod at Chen, who'd folded himself into the front passenger seat, phone glued to his ear.

Zhenyu shifted, wincing at the stiff ache in his wrist. Yu Bai's coat was draped over his shoulders again — warm, heavy, and suffocating.

"Where are we going?" Zhenyu rasped.

Yu Bai's eyes flicked to him in the rearview mirror — unreadable. "A problem needs to be handled."

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The car rolled into an abandoned industrial lot at the edge of the river. Old shipping containers loomed like tombstones in the mist. The headlights cut across puddles of oil and trash.

When they stopped, Zhenyu saw him — a man on his knees, hands bound behind his back, head bowed. He was trembling so badly Zhenyu felt it through the window.

"What is this?" Zhenyu hissed. "Who is he?"

Yu Bai didn't answer. He stepped out into the rain, coat flaring behind him like a shadow. Chen stayed in the car — a ghost with a phone, eyes blank.

Zhenyu's gut twisted. He fumbled at the door handle but the lock clicked down — stuck. Trapped like an animal in a cage.

Through the window, he saw Yu Bai crouch in front of the bound man — a whisper, a gloved hand on the man's chin, forcing him to look up. The man's mouth moved fast, desperate — pleading.

Zhenyu strained to hear. The rain drowned out everything but the heartbeat thudding in his ears.

Then Yu Bai stood. Calm. He pulled off his gloves one finger at a time, tucking them into his pocket.

He didn't even roll up his sleeves.

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When Yu Bai's fist slammed into the man's jaw, the crack echoed through the car like a gunshot. The man slumped sideways — but Yu Bai grabbed his hair, jerked him back upright, and punched him again.

Once. Twice.

Blood sprayed across the puddles, flecked Yu Bai's cheek.

Zhenyu's pulse slammed against his ribs. He slammed his palm against the window. "Yu Bai! Stop! What the fuck are you doing?!"

Yu Bai didn't look back. He just kept hitting — slow, methodical, like he was kneading dough instead of breaking bone. The man choked on his own teeth, sobbing around the blood that dripped from his split lips.

The smell of iron cut through the rain when Yu Bai finally let go. The man crumpled to the ground, gasping for air like a dying fish.

Yu Bai wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He turned to the car — eyes flat, pupils blown wide.

Chen unlocked the door with a soft click.

Zhenyu almost fell out when he stumbled into the rain.

He caught himself on the door frame, shoes splashing through the bloodied water. "What the fuck did he do?! He's just a kid—"

"He leaked your location to your ex's lawyer," Yu Bai said. His voice was too calm — soft as silk, cold as the river behind them. "He sold you out for half a month's rent."

Zhenyu's breath caught. "You could've threatened him! You didn't have to—"

Yu Bai stepped closer. He smelled like copper and rain now — sharp enough to make Zhenyu's eyes water. He cupped Zhenyu's face in one blood-slicked palm.

"I told you," Yu Bai murmured, thumb brushing Zhenyu's cheekbone. "I won't let anyone touch what's mine."

Zhenyu's stomach twisted. He tried to jerk away — but Yu Bai's fingers dug in, nails scraping skin.

"Look at me."

Zhenyu's throat closed. He looked. He had no choice.

Yu Bai leaned in — rain dripping from his hair onto Zhenyu's collar. His lips brushed Zhenyu's — a taste like salt, like metal, like the boy who used to hide behind him in the stairwell.

Zhenyu pushed at his chest, a frantic, weak shove. "Stop—"

Yu Bai kissed him again. Harder. Teeth scraped. He bit Zhenyu's lower lip until Zhenyu gasped — and then swallowed that sound down, tongue forcing its way in.

Zhenyu's fists beat weakly at his shoulders. But the fight leaked out of him with every bruising press of Yu Bai's mouth — every flicker of that terrifying warmth that made the rain fade into static.

He hated it. Hated how his body tilted forward — how his fingers twisted in Yu Bai's shirt, not to push him away but to hold him in place.

Yu Bai broke the kiss, breath ragged, forehead pressed to Zhenyu's. "You fed me when no one else did," he rasped. "You hid me. You made me."

Zhenyu's lips burned. His vision swam with rain and neon blur. "I was a kid."

Yu Bai's mouth curved — cruel, tender, hungry. "So was I."

He kissed him again. Softer this time — but deeper. Zhenyu whimpered into his mouth, shame and fury dissolving in the heat that pooled low in his gut.

When Yu Bai finally let go, Zhenyu sagged against him — chest heaving, lips swollen and wet.

Yu Bai cupped his cheek again, thumb brushing the bite mark at the corner of his mouth. "You'll stay with me," he said, voice like a promise. Or a threat. "And I'll take back what's mine. All of it."

Behind them, the bound man lay unmoving — the rain washing his blood into the gutter.

Zhenyu didn't look. He couldn't. He only felt the warmth of Yu Bai's hand and the cold truth: there was nowhere else left to run.

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Back in the car, Zhenyu pressed his forehead to the window, trying to ignore the taste of blood still on his tongue.

Yu Bai slid in beside him — calm now, so gentle he might have been a lover.

His hand found Zhenyu's again, fingers lacing through bruises and scars that had never really healed.

Outside, the city kept burning neon in the rain.

Inside, Yu Bai leaned close, brushing a kiss to Zhenyu's temple like a brand.

"You're mine," he murmured.

And Zhenyu, with his fists clenched tight around that warmth he'd given away so long ago, said nothing at all.

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