As they sprinted through the dimly lit corridor, Xiao Jie’s frustration spilled over. “Why didn’t you kill her?” he demanded, his voice sharp and accusing.

Ye Jingsheng let out a bitter chuckle, his breath labored but steady. “Anyone who can afford to hire the most famous female assassin in the Philippines is someone I can’t afford to mess with.” His tone grew darker as he continued, “Looks like I’m completely trapped with no way out this time.”

“Ah Sheng, you can… go to him—”

As they descended the stairs, the neon-lit chaos of the city greeted them. The streets were alive with bustling crowds and an endless flow of people, their voices blending into the hum of the night. Reaching the bottom, Ye Jingsheng grabbed Xiao Jie and shoved him into the shadowed corner of an alley.

“I don’t want to die by his hand again,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Go back. Don’t follow me.”

“Ah Sheng!” he grabbed him tightly. “Where can you run in your condition? I don’t care—”

Ye Jingsheng suddenly grabbed Xiao Jie and pulled him into a fierce kiss. “If I make it back alive, I’ll spend three days and nights fucking you.” Before the words fully left his mouth, he raised his fist and punched Xiao Jie squarely in the groin. Xiao Jie collapsed, clutching himself and crying out against the corner of the wall. “Ah Sheng!”

Gunfire erupted nearby, mingling with the terrified screams of bystanders.

Damn it! Ye Jingsheng spun the steering wheel sharply, skidding the car into a narrow, dark alley.

The pursuers were multiplying. If he died here, it would be the ultimate humiliation.

Another bullet whizzed past, shattering the rearview mirror beside him. Glass shards sliced into his face, but he couldn’t spare a moment to wipe away the blood. The car jolted violently, and he slammed his fist on the steering wheel in frustration. The next instant, the gas tank exploded.

Kicking open the barely intact car door, he leapt out just as the vehicle erupted into a massive fireball.

Ye Jingsheng slowly stood up. At this point, escape was no longer an option.

The pursuers stopped, surrounding him completely.

Covered in blood, his body battered and broken, Ye Jingsheng still smiled, a wild glint in his eyes. Slowly, he reached for Fang Yang’s Desert Eagle, the familiar weight steady in his hand, and snapped off the safety with a deliberate click.

If this was how it ended, he would make damn sure some of them joined him.

The air was thick with tension, every breath drawn as if it might trigger the chaos. No one moved, their gazes locked on his, wary of the sheer ferocity in his stance that dared them to act.

Then, without warning, the silence shattered.

Gunfire exploded around him, bullets ripping through the air. Chaos erupted as people scattered, shots fired in retaliation, bodies falling. The scene was painfully familiar, a ghost of that night he could never forget.

Amidst the carnage, a man in a black suit appeared, stepping over the corpses as if the chaos around him didn’t exist. He walked slowly toward Ye Jingsheng, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t I warn you? You shouldn’t have picked up this hot potato so easily.”

He paused, his smile deepening. “That night was the last peaceful one you’ll ever have.”

Ye Jingsheng returned the smile, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “That watch really is important to you.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Do you even know who’s trying to kill you?”

Ye Jingsheng wiped the blood from his face, letting out a cold snort, his gaze steady.

“That’s the attitude you show to the person who just saved your life?” Fang Yang leaned back on the sofa, his smirk mocking. “Do you know how many years it’s been since I’ve had to lift a finger for someone? And for what? Some damn street thug?”

Ye Jingsheng walked over and sat across from Fang Yang, propping one foot on the coffee table. After a few quick adjustments, he still looked battered and bruised, but at least somewhat presentable. The faint stubble along his jawline, left unshaved, gave him a wild, arrogant edge. “The only reason I ended up in this mess today is because of your damn thing. And the only reason you saved me is because of that same thing.”

Fang Yang nearly laughed in frustration. “And whose brilliant idea got it stolen in the first place?”

“Gotta make a living, Yang Ge.” Ye Jingsheng smirked without an ounce of shame. “I just took someone’s money and helped them solve a problem.”

“Well then, shouldn’t you return it to me now?”

Ye Jingsheng shrugged. “It’s not with me.”

Fang Yang interlocked his fingers and leaned back leisurely. “I already searched Hua Xiao Jie and found nothing.”

Ye Jingsheng glared. “You touch him, and I swear—”

Fang Yang chuckled, stepping around the coffee table to stand in front of him, looking down. “I never planned on touching him.” He grabbed Ye Jingsheng by the arm and pulled him to his feet. For a moment, they stood eye to eye. Fang Yang placed a firm hand on Ye Jingsheng’s neck, his gaze burning with an intense, hidden flame. “The one I want to touch is you.”

Ye Jingsheng didn’t resist as Fang Yang leaned in and kissed him. A faint hint of Cuban tobacco lingered in the air between them.

It smelled… good.

Ye Jingsheng never liked being controlled, no matter the situation. He flipped Fang Yang over and slammed him onto the sofa with enough force to see stars. Then, one kiss after another, intense and intimate, they tangled together like lovers.

“Fang Yang, let’s be clear. I’ll give you back the thing, but I need to know what game you’re playing.”

Fang Yang, his forehead pressed against Ye Jingsheng, let out a muffled laugh. “Why? Have you figured out who wants you dead?”

Ye Jingsheng grabbed him by the collar and shoved him, springing to his feet. “That fucker dares to play me? He’s dead meat!”

Ye Jingsheng’s arrogant words made Fang Yang smile knowingly. “Figuring out that Zhong Qinglin wants you dead means you’re not completely clueless.”

Ye Jingsheng shot him a sharp glare. “If we’re talking about who wants the watch, it’s simple. It’s just two people—you and the one who wants it gone, my employer, Old Man Zhong.”

Fang Yang chuckled and lit a cigarette. The smoke swirled around him as he spoke, his voice steady and determined, like the final strike of a gavel. “You two really put on quite the show that day. I almost got fooled myself. Let’s join forces and take him down.”

A spark lit up in Ye Jingsheng’s eyes. The two major factions of Hongyun, the underworld’s largest gang, were about to clash head-on. The thought made his blood race. Ye Jingsheng was a born rogue, incapable of learning fear, even after narrowly escaping death.

“I never make deals that don’t benefit me,” he said with a sigh.

“What do you mean, no benefit?” Fang Yang frowned, puzzled. This cunning snake was clearly trying to negotiate.

“Don’t you think so, Yang ge? At the very least, you should let me know what your game is,” Ye Jingsheng said, spreading his hands. “Or tell me, if I team up with you, what’s in it for me?”

“Don’t you want revenge?”

“Of course I do. But I don’t necessarily have to do it your way. Maybe in a year, maybe in two. As long as Zhong Qinglin stays alive, I can wait. But Yang ge, can you?”

“So you just want a piece of the pie.” Fang Yang stood up. “What makes you think I’ll accommodate you?”

“Because everyone has a price. And I’m worth it.”

Fang Yang threw his head back in laughter. “You’re unbelievable, Ye Jingsheng. Your life is in my hands right now, and yet, with nothing to bargain with, you dare negotiate with me?!”