In early summer, Z City experienced a lot of rain. After several days of strong winds and heavy showers, the entire city was soaked, with the air thick with damp moisture. The gloomy, overcast sky weighed heavily on the mood, making everything feel uncomfortable and oppressive.

In the old northern district, where several buildings were slated for demolition, there were hardly any people left. Those who were supposed to move had already done so, and the few who hadn’t likely wouldn’t be wandering around on a night like this.

These old buildings were once the workers’ dormitories for a steel factory in the ’80s. Thirty years ago, this area was quite prosperous, but now it looked worn and desolate. Nearly half of the buildings had been reduced to rubble, with only two empty houses standing in the center, lonely and weak, casting a faint, decaying shadow in the darkness. At the entrance, a streetlamp, long overdue for repair, flickered intermittently. Whether it was a wiring issue or a burnt-out bulb, it made the already eerie, silent neighborhood feel even more ghostly.

At 9 p.m., a man in a black hoodie walked out of the community, head lowered as he quickly passed under the flickering streetlamp that was on its last legs. He headed toward a phone booth about fifty meters away.

The hood nearly covered his entire face, making it impossible to see his features from any angle.

He paused for a moment, scanning the area to make sure no one suspicious was nearby before stepping inside. He inserted a card, picked up the phone, and dialed a number.

_______

Last year, a project that several people in the circle had invested in wrapped up, making a decent profit. Li Ze had invited Ruan Chengjie to dinner and, on top of that, handed him his share of the earnings.

The two were seated at the Spanish restaurant on the top floor of the BVLGARI hotel. Li Ze passed over a newly opened bank card, and Ruan Chengjie took it with a smile, asking, “How much?”

Li Ze mentioned an amount, and Ruan Chengjie was a bit surprised. “That much?”

“Young Master Ke has sharp eyes and strong connections. We’re all just riding on his coattails,” Li Ze replied, wiping his hands with a warm towel. “Have you ordered the food?”

“Yes. Take a look and see if you want to add anything,” Ruan Chengjie said, handing him the menu.

Li Ze casually flipped through it, then called over the waiter to add a portion of Liberia ham. He then asked, “I heard your cousin came back from the U.S. and jumped straight into a VP role at the company. Is that true?”

“He only started two days ago. You sure know your stuff,” Ruan Chengjie replied.

“I heard it from my mom,” Li Ze said, shrugging. “You know how women have a keen sense for gossip.”

Ruan Chengjie chuckled. “During Chinese New Year, I went back to the family home. The old man’s health isn’t so great anymore, and my second uncle’s eager to bring his son back to compete with me for power.”

As for Ruan Chengjie, he only ever opened up so fully in front of Li Ze. The two of them were as close as brothers, having grown up together—since birth, they shared the same crib, went to school together, and had thirty years of deep friendship. Naturally, their bond was much closer than with anyone else.

The Ruan family was a large, powerful clan. Uncles and cousins all had their eyes on the top position in Huarui. Their internal power struggles had been ongoing for decades, more dramatic than any film. Ruan Chengjie’s father had been the tragic victim in this long-running fight for control.

Later, in his bid for power, Ruan Chengjie took ruthless actions against his second uncle, third uncle, and two aunts, but he still couldn’t turn things around. Though his methods were extreme, Ruan’s grandfather. the old man, also needed to deal with the internal family members who were more focused on power struggles than legitimate business. So, he turned a blind eye. Out of respect for the old man’s authority, no one dared openly criticize Ruan Chengjie. Now that the old man’s health was failing, everyone was starting to make moves again.

Li Ze knew that Ruan Chengjie’s life hadn’t been easy, so he didn’t interfere much with his way of relieving stress through SM. In their circle, there were plenty of people who played far more extreme games than Ruan Chengjie. SM wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

The dishes they ordered arrived quickly, and the two chatted while eating. Midway through, Ruan Chengjie’s phone rang. He dismissed the call without answering. A few minutes later, it rang again. He glanced at the caller ID, still didn’t answer, and switched the phone to silent.

Li Ze asked, “Anything up?”

Ruan Chengjie replied, “Just a little M. Not in the mood to deal with them.”

Li Ze didn’t think much of it. After finishing dinner, they headed to the underground parking lot. Li Ze drove off first, and Ruan Chengjie sat in the driver’s seat, when his phone rang once more.

This time, he answered. Whatever was said on the other end made Ruan Chengjie’s lips curl into a cold smile. “You messed things up for me, and now you still have the nerve to ask for money?”

On the other end, they probably asked how to handle the situation. Ruan Chengjie’s tone was clearly displeased. “Do I really need to teach you how to deal with this?”

The call ended quickly. Ruan Chengjie’s car lights dimmed, and in the vast parking lot, with only rows of stationary cars, there wasn’t a soul in sight. It was so quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat, thumping, thumping, each beat echoing against his twisted soul.

Ruan Chengjie stared blankly at the dimly lit parking lot for a long time—perhaps not really seeing anything. Then, he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

Some things, once started, can only continue, even if ahead lies a pitch-black abyss, bottomless and terrifying.

If the end is destined to be a fall, he’d rather jump himself than let his enemies have the chance to push him down.

——-

After several days of heavy rain, it finally stopped, and Bian Yiqiu received a notice from the court—his first trial was coming up.

Even though the evidence was solid and irrefutable, there still had to be a formal process before the verdict could be passed. This was also the final ultimatum from Commander Ke to his son—his patience was running out.

On the day of the trial, Bian Yiqiu was handcuffed and, under the watch of both prison guards and armed police, was escorted from his cell by the court officers to the courthouse.

The sky after the storm was a clear, bright blue, and the sun shone freely, casting a warm, comforting light that made everything feel pleasant.

He stood at the entrance of the detention center, squinting up at the sun, and gave a light smile.

It was generally not allowed for court officers to have too much interaction with suspects, but after completing the handover procedure, one of the officers glanced at Bian Yiqiu and asked, “In a good mood?”

Bian Yiqiu nodded. “The weather’s nice.”

Good weather always had a way of uplifting one’s spirits.

The officer didn’t say anything else, signaling to his colleagues to grab his arms, one on each side, and escort him toward the police car parked by the side of the road.

The police car was tightly sealed, with nothing visible from the outside, and several other court officers stood guard around it.

The officer who had spoken to him earlier opened the car door. As Bian Yiqiu bent down to get in, his eyes unexpectedly caught sight of a pair of long legs wrapped under a suit.

He stood frozen in place. Before he could react, the person inside yanked his arm forcefully, and the court officer outside shoved him hard in the back. This sent Bian Yiqiu crashing into the car in a rather comical manner… no, crashing straight into the man’s arms.

Ke Mingxuan held him, his eyes smiling. “So excited? Are you missing me that much?”

Bian Yiqiu blinked, then turned to glance at the court officers who had followed him into the car, sitting beside him. He gritted his teeth and muttered loudly, “What the hell!”

The other officers quickly got into the car, sitting in the two front rows. The partition between them and the back rose up, separating the front from the rear into two distinct spaces.

“Stop talking nonsense. I’m risking my life to get you two together. Say what you need to say quickly, don’t waste time,” the court officer said as he locked the car door, ordered the driver to start, and instructed his colleague in the front seat to make “technical adjustments” to the car’s surveillance. He then turned to look out the window, signaling that they should do whatever they wanted, as if he wasn’t there at all.

Of course, there wasn’t much they could do.

It had been more than two months since the car accident at Wuye Mountain—much too long since they’d last seen each other. The brief encounter at Fenghu Lake didn’t really count. Bian Yiqiu had often wondered what he would say or do when he saw Ke Mingxuan again, but now that they were face to face, he couldn’t say a single word.

In the face of overwhelming emotions, words seemed futile. They didn’t need to say anything; with just a glance, everything was understood.

“How are you?”

“How’s your injury?”

The two spoke at the same time, and then both laughed.

Ke Mingxuan: “Looks like you’re doing fine wherever you are.”

Bian Yiqiu: “Seems like your injury’s almost healed.”

Ke Mingxuan: “When you get out, we can have another fight.”

Bian Yiqiu: “Actually, I don’t feel like fighting at all right now. I want to go to Yuelong Bay for a hot spring. Everything’s great, except the bath time is way too damn short.”

The two sat in the car, casually chatting as if no one else was around. They talked about the environment and facilities of Erkan, the business and stock market outside, and even their mutual friends.

Bian Yiqiu couldn’t stop thinking about the movie he missed because that bastard Qian Ying ruined it. Ke Mingxuan said, “When you get out, we’ll go see it together.” Bian Yiqiu then mentioned the baked snails at the restaurant upstairs from the theater, saying how they had a reservation last time but didn’t get to eat. Ke Mingxuan responded, “Next time, we’ll have the baked snails first before the movie.” Hearing this, the court officer sitting next to them was utterly speechless and was about to remind them to hurry up and exchange some sweet words, when the driver made a left turn, heading down Fuyuan Road.

Ke Mingxuan turned to look out the window. “Xinghe Plaza.”

Bian Yiqiu followed his gaze. “Last time you were stalking me, it was here.”

“Yeah, I was behind you the whole time, but you didn’t notice.”

“I was too focused on those two idiots.”

“I watched you in the crowded, bustling crowd, walking straight toward an old man selling candied hawthorns. At first, I thought you were deliberately trying to draw those two rookies out, but then I realized you weren’t.”

Bian Yiqiu chuckled. “I just really wanted to eat them, but after walking a few steps, I realized I didn’t bring my wallet.”

Ke Mingxuan: “Do you know what I was thinking at that time?”

Bian Yiqiu: “What were you thinking?”

Ke Mingxuan looked away for a moment before seriously meeting his gaze. “I was thinking… if you turned around and saw me, I’d buy you candied hawthorns. You could have as many as you wanted.”

One of the law enforcement officers in the car felt a bit sour, thinking to himself, I haven’t even reminded you two yet, and here you are, throwing out sweet nothings. Really acting like I’m not here.

The courthouse wasn’t far off, and there were regulations for the police car: once the suspect gets in, they can’t stop at red lights, open the door, or make any unscheduled stops. With that, Ke Mingxuan couldn’t leave midway, so they only had about half an hour to talk.

The officer, Cheng, was a classmate of Gu Ling’s from the police academy, and they had a very close relationship. When Gu Ling had asked him for help, he briefly explained the situation between Young Master Ke and this particular big boss, Bian Yiqiu. Cheng could tell that even this stolen half hour seemed too short for the two of them to have a proper heart-to-heart. However, much to his surprise, neither of the two main characters seemed to feel the same way. They were chatting and laughing as if they weren’t being escorted to court, but instead cruising around in their own luxurious vehicle with a few bodyguards.

What Cheng didn’t know was that both Ke Mingxuan and Bian Yiqiu were firmly convinced they’d have a lifetime together, so there was no need to make this meeting overly dramatic or emotional.

Until the police car stopped in front of the imposing, grand courthouse gates, both of them suddenly realized that half an hour was indeed too short.

Bian Yiqiu opened the car door and flashed a casual smile at Ke Mingxuan. “Let’s go.”

After saying that, he got out of the car.

“Bian Yiqiu.” Ke Mingxuan called out to him.

Bian Yiqiu stepped out of the car without pausing or looking back.

Ke Mingxuan continued, “What your mother couldn’t give you, I’ll get all of it for you.”

Without responding, Bian Yiqiu walked on, escorted by two court officers, and ascended the courthouse steps. In his heart, he silently replied with a single word: “Okay.”