Lin Jiayan’s attempt to help Bian Yiqiu escape infuriated Qian Ying but he couldn’t bring himself to hit or scold him. Left with no better option, he dragged Lin Jiayan back to the lounge and locked him in. He instructed the guards at the door, “As long as he doesn’t harm himself or try to commit suicide, even if he tears the lounge apart, don’t open the door.”

“You bastard Qian!” Lin Jiayan banged on the door, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Let me out, you son of a bitch! Qian Ying, you scumbag! Open the damn door!”

The two guys standing guard endured a full half-hour of this auditory assault. They listened as Lin Jiayan picked up things he’d smashed earlier and smashed them all over again. Then… the room suddenly went quiet.

The guy on the left asked, “Why’d it go silent?”

The guy on the right replied, “Probably ran out of stuff to break.”

Left guy: “You think something happened?”

Right guy: “At most, he’s just exhausted from smashing things.”

Left guy: “Should we go in and check? What if something really happened…”

After thinking it over, the guy on the right reluctantly pulled out the key, opened the door, and cautiously peeked inside.

Lin Jiayan, worn out from all the physical exertion, was slumped against the wall, panting. When he saw someone enter, he weakly said, “Go get that bastard Qian for me.”

“Brother Ying is busy…”

“Busy my ass!” Lin Jiayan yelled, his eyes red. “Go ask him if he’s planning to starve me to death! I haven’t even had dinner yet, goddamn it!”

“…” The guy on the right shot a glance at the guy on the left, who immediately turned and bolted down the hall.

Qian Ying was in the warehouse where Bian Yiqiu was being held, sitting across from him.

The drug’s effects on Bian Yiqiu hadn’t completely worn off, and Qian Ying hadn’t bothered to tie him up again. Given the current situation, there was no chance he could escape anyway.

Qian Ying sat back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, looking entirely at ease. Bian Yiqiu’s strength had recovered maybe 20–30%, which wasn’t nearly enough to overpower Qian Ying and make a break for it. However, he could still manage to sit in his chair with an air of nonchalant coolness without falling over.

The expressions on their faces were calm, devoid of the tension one might expect when enemies meet. There wasn’t any of that hair-trigger hostility. If it weren’t for the wrong time and place, throwing a table between them with a couple of drinks would make them look like old friends having a chat.

But right this moment, the topic of their “chat” was far from friendly.

Qian Ying asked, “Boss Bian, have you thought it through?”

Bian Yiqiu replied, “What is there to think about?”

Qian Ying said, “Work with me, or you won’t see tomorrow’s sun. Your choice.”

Bian Yiqiu bared his teeth in a grin. “The weather forecast says it’ll be cloudy tomorrow.”

“…” Qian Ying thought this guy was something else. Even at this point, he could still act so composed, as if nothing could touch him. “Boss Bian, stop playing games. You and I both know it’s pointless.”

“Fine,” Bian Yiqiu nodded. “Then let me tell you this: Ever since the day Jiu’an went clean, I’ve never considered taking a step back.”

Qian Ying stared at the man in front of him, silent for a long time.

He had been sent abroad by his father at the age of thirteen. Officially, it was to study, but in reality, it was for his protection. His father had told him that once you stepped onto the underworld’s path, there was no turning back. If you wanted to clean your hands of it, those hands had to be spotless to begin with. How many people, after gaining money, power, and status—and tasting the addictive blood-soaked thrill—could truly let go?

Even if you could, could the brothers who followed you through thick and thin let it go? Could the enemies you had stepped on, belittled, toyed with, and crushed let it go? They were all watching you like hawks, waiting for that moment. Waiting for you to “go clean,” for your claws to be clipped, your weapons to be sheathed, and for you to fall from the peak of power to become just another ordinary person. Then, they would swarm in and tear you to shreds.

Years ago, Li Jiu had insisted on cleaning up Jiu’an. He was impressive—he managed to pull it off, but the cost was devastating. And as far as Qian Ying knew, even in Li Jiu’s lifetime, he never truly went clean. If he had, he wouldn’t have died peacefully in a hospital bed; he would’ve died at the barrel of a rival’s gun.

Now, Bian Yiqiu was telling him he hadn’t considered turning back and planned to see Jiu’an’s transition through to the end. But bold declarations like that rested on the premise that he wouldn’t survive till tomorrow. So Qian Ying couldn’t understand—what was the point of this stubbornness?

So he asked, “Are you really not afraid of dying?”

“Of course I’m afraid.” Bian Yiqiu’s face was calm. “Who wants to die if they can live?”

Back then, he had struggled so hard just to stay alive—there was no reason for him to wish for death now, especially when life had become so much better.

“Then why not consider another path?”

Bian Yiqiu didn’t answer immediately. He paused for two or three seconds, then said, “Because I want to live clean.” Only then would he be worthy of Ke Mingxuan.

If he couldn’t, he’d rather die.

Qian Ying scoffed, clearly unable to comprehend this almost sacrificial level of devotion. Of course, if he knew Bian Yiqiu refused to cooperate solely because of Ke Mingxuan, who knows what kind of expression he’d make.

“Fine. Boss Bian, you’re impressive.” Qian Ying knew Bian Yiqiu wouldn’t change his mind, so he didn’t bother wasting more time. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you die painfully. You’ve already been injected with a muscle relaxant. One more dose of barbiturate mixed with a sufficient amount of potassium chloride, and you’ll feel nothing—just like falling asleep.”

“Thanks in advance, then.” Bian Yiqiu smiled faintly, completely unfazed, showing not even a hint of fear in the face of death.

When Qian Ying first returned to the country, he’d heard plenty of stories about Bian Yiqiu’s great achievements—how ruthless and deadly he was, how cunning and calculating, how fearless and reckless. Even his father had warned him more than once: Don’t mess with Bian Yiqiu unless you absolutely have to.

At the time, Qian Ying scoffed at these tales. He thought people had turned Bian Yiqiu into a myth, exaggerated him beyond reason. He thought his father had grown old, weak, and cowardly—losing all ambition to the point of letting Li Jiu’s stray dog run wild and do as he pleased. What was so special about this Bian Yiqiu? Qian Ying couldn’t see it.

In fact, his father’s warnings had the opposite effect. Qian Ying went out of his way to provoke Jiu’an. He exploited Zhou Ming’s gambling addiction to bleed Hongyuan dry and went as far as hiding drugs on their cargo ships to frame them. He hadn’t initially planned to take Bian Yiqiu down for good—he just wanted to see how he would fight back.

Later, Zhou Ming’s actions were exposed, and Bian Yiqiu shattered each of his ten fingers one by one. But that was it—he only lost the use of his hands. The broken finger bones could still be reset, so Qian Ying thought Bian Yiqiu was being merciful. Even though Bian Yiqiu had once been Li Jiu’s most loyal and fearsome weapon, conquering enemies and striking down obstacles without fail, Li Jiu was gone now. All he had left was a “clean” Jiu’an Group and a group of brothers, hundreds strong, who just wanted a peaceful life. No matter how sharp a blade once was, if left unused, it would grow dull. How could someone like that possibly be a match for him?

What Qian Ying hadn’t counted on was that beasts excel at lying low and waiting for the right moment to strike. When the time came, they would spring up and hit their mark in a single, devastating move. His two-billion-yuan luxury cruise ship was reduced to scrap overnight. Every illegal transaction he had hidden aboard was exposed, and Interpol seized everything—goods, people, and evidence. If he hadn’t escaped quickly, he’d probably be rotting in a jail cell by now.

A few days later, he learned that his cruise ship had been compromised long before the takedown. Bian Yiqiu had patiently planted a “mole” and spent months crafting an elaborate scheme, forcing Qian Ying to watch as his financial empire crumbled before his very eyes.

Qian Ying was so furious he wanted nothing more than to tear Bian Yiqiu to pieces. But every thug he sent out came back empty-handed—or worse, disarmed and nearly shot in the head. And these weren’t just any run-of-the-mill henchmen—they were professional bodyguards he had personally brought back from abroad!

From that moment, Qian Ying started reflecting—had he underestimated Bian Yiqiu?

But so what? No matter how impressive he was, this man was still going to die at his hands.

Qian Ying stood up from the chair, casually said, “You’re welcome,” and turned to leave.

Truth be told, he admired Bian Yiqiu. If their roles were reversed, he knew he could never remain so calm and composed in the face of death.

It was a bit of a pity. But only just a bit.

As the door closed again, the faint smile on Bian Yiqiu’s face gradually faded. The “afraid” he’d admitted earlier wasn’t a lie—he was scared. Not of dying, but of dying without ever seeing Ke Mingxuan again.

He had lived through over thirty years of hardship, loneliness, and struggle, only to have finally begun tasting the sweetness of life. And now, it seemed, he’d have to say goodbye so soon.

Ke Mingxuan, I’m sorry.

He closed his eyes, feeling his sockets sting and a faint bitterness well up.

If there’s a next life, let’s meet sooner, okay? Before I sink into the muck, or just as I’m starting to fall in—reach out, grab me, and pull me out.

He didn’t know how much time he’d spent thinking about Ke Mingxuan, nor how much longer he had to keep doing so. His mind was full of Ke Mingxuan’s sharp, handsome face, his beautiful eyes, his deep voice, and his sexy build. He replayed every single day they’d spent together in his head, savoring each fleeting moment of sweetness like a precious morsel.

If memories could be carved into the soul and carried into the next life, he thought, I wouldn’t mind slicing into my flesh, each cut going straight to the bone.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, exploding in his mind like a thunderclap.

Bian Yiqiu’s eyes snapped open as he heard chaotic footsteps outside the iron door, but no one came to unlock it. The rapid gunfire that followed, one round after another, made it abundantly clear to the battle-hardened Bian Yiqiu—this wasn’t Qian Ying’s people doing target practice.

Someone’s here to save me?

His body reacted before his mind fully processed the thought. He pushed off from the chair, only to collapse forward as soon as he tried to stand. His body hit the hard floor with a loud thud.

“Shit!” Bian Yiqiu cursed, slamming his fist against the floor in frustration. Just as he tried to muster the strength to push himself up, the iron door flew open with a bang.

“Bian Yiqiu!”

A familiar voice pierced his ears, shocking him into looking up. Ke Mingxuan strode in, larger than life, heading straight for him. Behind him, the door stood wide open, letting in the deafening cacophony of gunfire and shouts of hand-to-hand combat. The scene was so surreal, it felt like something out of a dream—or a corny, low-budget action movie.

This has to be an illusion. Even the cringiest films wouldn’t dare stage something this absurd.

It wasn’t until he felt himself being pulled into a solid embrace that the situation finally sank in.

The faint scent of sandalwood and cedar wrapped around him like a cocoon, grounding him in a way that almost made him want to cry. But before he could revel in the comfort, another thought struck him, pushing all sentimentality aside.

“What the hell are you doing here? Who the fuck told you to come?” Bian Yiqiu snapped, panic lacing his words. Did this idiot have any idea how dangerous a gang shootout could be?

“You called me,” Ke Mingxuan replied as he crouched down, relief washing over his face at finding Bian alive. He reached out to help him up.

“Bullshit! When did I ever call you?”

“You’re here, so of course I’d come. Now stop being dead weight and put some effort into standing up.”

“I am dead weight! Don’t you know what a muscle relaxant is?” Despite the retort, Bian Yiqiu gritted his teeth and used Ke Mingxuan’s shoulder for support, forcing himself to his feet.

Ke Mingxuan, hearing Bian Yiqiu mention the muscle relaxant, stopped trying to help him stand and instead pulled off his bulletproof vest, wrapping it around Bian Yiqiu’s upper body. Without a word, he bent down, slipped an arm under Bian Yiqiu’s legs, and lifted him into a bridal carry.

“Ke Mingxuan, don’t you dare!”

But Ke Mingxuan dared.

“…Fuck your ancestors! Put me down! I’m a grown-ass man, not some damsel! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Ke Mingxuan ignored him, his expression dark, and walked out of the warehouse without so much as a glance back.

The gunfire grew louder with each step, interspersed with the amplified voices of the police shouting through megaphones. The usual lines—“You’re surrounded, cease resistance immediately”—rang out, but the unrelenting gunfire proved how little anyone cared.

“It’s the cops? You called the cops?”

“What do you think? You really thought Jiu’an’s men could locate you this quickly?”

“…” He couldn’t argue with that. Of course, with Ke Mingxuan’s connections, mobilizing the police force would be child’s play. And since this was Qian Ying’s arms-smuggling base, saving him while simultaneously cracking a major case was an easy win.

Under the cover of the heavily armed SWAT team, Ke Mingxuan carried him out of the arms depot. Bian Yiqiu couldn’t help but feel complicated as he glanced around at the intimidating display of riot police, rifles gleaming in the dim light. Once upon a time, he was the one standing on the other side of their barrels.

“Put me down. I can walk.” Being carried in a princess hold by another man—under the watchful eyes of all these officers—was a humiliation Bian Yiqiu simply couldn’t endure.

Ke Mingxuan, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit tired. Despite carrying someone over 185 centimeters tall, he walked as steadily as if Bian Yiqiu weighed nothing at all.

“Can you really walk?”

“If you help me a bit, I should be fine.”

Ke Mingxuan finally relented and set him down. The problem was that they were deep in the mountains, where vehicles couldn’t pass. All the police cars were parked two kilometers away on a winding mountain road. The terrain was rough and unlit, which was why the authorities had been able to encircle the area without alerting anyone.

The moment Bian Yiqiu’s feet hit the ground, his legs buckled. The muscles refused to cooperate, and he nearly collapsed.

Ke Mingxuan caught him immediately. “You sure about this? Don’t push yourself if you can’t do it.”

Gritting his teeth, Bian Yiqiu forced himself upright. “I’m fine.”

Ke Mingxuan noted the sweat beading on his forehead and sighed inwardly. Fine? You’re barely standing. How the hell are you going to make it through mountain trails like this? Without another word, he turned his back to Bian Yiqiu and crouched slightly.

Bian Yiqiu stared at Ke Mingxuan’s broad shoulders and perfectly tapered waist but didn’t move.

“Hurry up! Don’t tell me you’re too stubborn for a piggyback, too—”

Before Ke Mingxuan could finish his sentence, he felt the weight on his back. Bian Yiqiu had obediently climbed on.

He knew that in his current state, it would take until daybreak to reach the main road on his own. This place was far too dangerous, and stray bullets didn’t discriminate. Ke Mingxuan wasn’t even wearing a bulletproof vest; it was best to leave as quickly as possible.

After a few steps, Bian Yiqiu suddenly spoke. “Wait, Lin Jiayan is still inside!”

“Gu Ling took a team to rescue him,” Ke Mingxuan replied calmly.

A deputy outside the perimeter had assigned two officers to escort them out. Wuye Mountain, still undeveloped, was pitch dark at this hour, the kind of darkness where you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. Thankfully, along the way, they encountered a mountain villager wearing a straw hat who pointed them in the right direction. Before long, they spotted a row of police cars parked silently along the roadside, engines off, lights dimmed.

Young Master Ke’s Bentley was parked at the front of the convoy. After thanking the two officers, he gently set Bian Yiqiu into the passenger seat, started the engine, and drove off.

Bian Yiqiu stared out of the window, his brows furrowed in thought. Sensing something was off, Ke Mingxuan asked, “Are you feeling unwell? Aside from the muscle relaxant, are you hurt anywhere else?”

Bian Yiqiu shook his head. “No, I’m fine. It’s just… isn’t it odd for a villager to be wandering the forest this late at night?”

“Maybe they were working late and got held up,” Ke Mingxuan replied, turning onto the winding mountain road.

Bian Yiqiu’s frown deepened. “That doesn’t make sense. Qian Ying picked this place as a munitions base—there shouldn’t be anyone living nearby.”

The more he thought about it, the more that figure’s back seemed familiar. Though the straw hat obscured the person’s face, Bian Yiqiu couldn’t shake the feeling he’d seen them somewhere before.

“Don’t overthink it…” Ke Mingxuan began, but Bian Yiqiu suddenly cut him off.

“Zhou Ming!”

“What?”

Bian Yiqiu’s face paled with shock. “The person just now was Zhou Ming!”

“How could it be him? Are you sure it’s not someone else?”

“I’ve been brothers with him for eight years, how could I be mistaken—”

Before Bian Yiqiu could finish his sentence, a blinding set of headlights suddenly flashed around the bend, casting an immediate shadow over them.

“Stop the car! Ke Mingxuan, stop the car!”

Ke Mingxuan slammed on the brakes, swerving the wheel sharply to the left to avoid the oncoming truck. But when he pressed the pedal, he realized the brakes weren’t working at all…