“Who’s there?” The soldier at the study door snapped, his hand moving instinctively to his sidearm.

The hallway was silent and empty.

Another soldier smirked. “Who would dare sneak around here? You’re imagining things.”

A heavy thud broke the silence, rippling tension through the air and freezing both men in place. Their eyes locked briefly, caution etched in their expressions, before they sprang into action. Each moved toward a different window. Pressing their faces against the cold glass, they peered into the murky expanse of night. The grounds stretched out before them, shrouded in darkness, with only the restless sway of trees bending under the faint glow of the moonlight to betray any movement.

Ye Jingsheng crept up behind one of them. In a flash, he clamped a hand over the soldier’s mouth and nose. The man didn’t even have time to struggle before his body went limp.

“Tom?” The other soldier turned at the faint sound of movement, his hand instinctively resting on his gun. Stepping closer, he spotted his companion slumped motionless on the ground. His brow furrowed. “What the hell are you doing?” he muttered, his voice dropping as he inched forward, each step slow and wary.

He didn’t get far. A rush of air grazed his ear, setting his nerves on edge. He twisted sharply, gun raised, muscles tensed to fire. But the strike came faster. A brutal blow crashed into his jaw, sending a sharp jolt through his skull. His vision wavered. Before he could catch a glimpse of his attacker, a hand clamped over his mouth and nose, cutting off his breath. His body sagged as darkness swallowed him whole.

Ye Jingsheng clapped his hands and nudged the unconscious body at his feet. Clicking his tongue, he muttered, “Whatever drug Fang used, it’s insane. I’d better tread lightly around him from now on.”

He strode into the room and switched on the wrist-mounted light. The beam swept across the space, landing on a safe tucked into the corner. Crouching to inspect it, he let out a soft hum of interest. It was a state-of-the-art model.

With a smirk, he pulled out his trusty Swiss army knife and held it lightly between his teeth as he began working on the lock. One by one, the wires gave way until the final snap echoed in the quiet room. The safe door creaked open, revealing a sleek laptop inside.

Sliding the knife back into its sheath, Ye Jingsheng perched on the edge of the table. His fingers flew across the keyboard, bringing the screen to life. A single date flashed onto the screen: Fourteenth.

—–

“The fourteenth?” Fang Yang’s expression grew serious as he sat up straight. “The deal is in two days? Over a hundred million in funds, and Zhong Qinglin can just pull that out of thin air?”

Ye Jingsheng crossed his arms, watching him with amusement. “Looks like the old man has deeper pockets than you thought. Yang ge, you and your boss locking horns with him might not go as smoothly as you think.”

Fang Yang shot him a cold look. “We won’t lose.” After a pause, he added, “We move the day after tomorrow. Destroy the shipment after the deal is done.”

“Destroy it?” Ye Jingsheng, usually composed, stared at him in disbelief. “You seriously think the two of us, on Zachis’s turf, can take out a shipment worth over a hundred million?”

“Are you scared?”

“Of course I am! I’m not ready to die!” Ye Jingsheng threw himself into a chair. “We agreed before to just disrupt their deal and get out. When did destroying the goods become part of the plan? Zachis will flay us alive!”

Fang Yang leaned forward, his calm expression twisting into a challenging smirk. “You in or not? Bet your life on it.”

“You’re insane. A complete lunatic!” Ye Jingsheng pushed him aside. “No wonder you were so quick to offer me ten percent equity. You’re just trying to get me killed! I’m out.”

Fang Yang spread his hand, revealing a small remote.

“What’s that?”

“An IMI LSD micro-incendiary device. Blast radius 18.3 meters. Once the goods are loaded onto the ship, blowing them up will be easy.”

Ye Jingsheng stared at him like he’d seen a ghost. “You already had this planned, didn’t you?! And you didn’t tell me?”

“Exactly,” Fang Yang replied calmly. “And now you can’t back out.”

“You son of a—” Ye Jingsheng grabbed Fang Yang by the collar, his fist raised. “You’re sending me on a suicide mission!”

Fang Yang caught his fist mid-air, holding it firmly as he shook his head slowly. “No one else can be my partner. Ye Jingsheng, the moment you took that watch from me, this was already set in motion.”

Ye Jingsheng froze, his eyes wide with shock. It took him a long moment before he found his voice. “Why? Is this all just for Hongyun?”

Fang Yang exhaled slowly, answering, “For Chen ge, and for myself.”

Years ago, Hongyun built its empire by carving a path through the shadows. Under Old Master Chen’s leadership, they moved hundreds of kilograms of heroin each year, controlling more than 80 percent of Hong Kong’s drug market.

Perhaps it was karmic retribution, but Old Master Chen had no biological son to inherit the family business. But that changed sixteen years ago when Chen Chen arrived in Hong Kong.

His origins were cloaked in secrecy. The only thing people knew was that he was the product of one of Old Master Chen’s past affairs. Rumors about his legitimacy spread like wildfire, and within a year, Chen Chen had already survived four assassination attempts.

At the time, Fang Yang was just a valet boy working at the Lido nightclub, unaware of the power struggles ripping through Hongyun’s ranks. But he understood better than most the devastation drugs could bring. His own mother had fallen into that abyss and never climbed out. To this day, he didn’t even know who his biological father was. His childhood memories were filled with the image of his mother, jaundiced and gaunt from years of addiction, her hollow eyes staring past him as she traded away her dignity for another hit of heroin.

Growing up in the shadow of gang leaders and dimly lit nightclubs, Fang Yang had his first taste of violence at thirteen. A Qinglong Gang enforcer was tormenting a bar hostess, her heavy makeup doing little to mask the exhaustion in her eyes. No one dared to interfere.

Fang Yang acted on instinct. He grabbed a machete and swung it, the blade tearing into the enforcer’s back. He struck once, then again, landing nine brutal blows before the man finally crumpled to the floor.

When the commotion settled, Chen Chen, the prince of Hongyun, stepped out from the VIP room. He studied the bloodstained boy for a moment before giving a small nod. “This kid will follow me from now on.”

Fang Yang had no way of knowing that his impulsive act would set off a chain of events beyond his control. The attack ignited an all-out war between the two gangs, and before long, whispers spread about handing him over to the Qinglong Gang as part of a peace deal. The rumors gained traction, but Chen Chen silenced them with a single declaration.

“If you want Fang Yang, you will have to step over my dead body first.”

Old Master Chen listened in silence, his presence alone enough to command the room. A single boy’s life meant little in the grand scheme of his empire, not when so many had already been sacrificed under his rule. But the future of Hongyun’s only heir was not something he could overlook.

“Give me one good reason why I should let you protect him,” he said.

Chen Chen’s response was filled with conviction. “A thirteen-year-old boy who can strike with such ruthless precision will one day become an asset to Hongyun.”

Time proved Chen Chen right. Five years later, Fang Yang led the charge that wiped out the Qinglong Gang, absorbing their entire network into Hongyun. At just 18, he became the youngest boss in the organization’s history.

But on the very day of his triumph, Fang Yang’s mother died of a cocaine overdose. She didn’t live long enough to enjoy the wealth and luxury her son could now provide. Her face, contorted in death, still bore the faintest trace of a smile.

Standing before her funeral altar, Fang Yang did not shed a single tear. Instead, he made every member of Hongyun swear that they would never touch the heroin trade again.

Chen Chen attended the funeral as well. Dressed in mourning clothes, he knelt three times and kowtowed nine times, paying his respects like a dutiful son. At the burial, he approached Fang Yang quietly. “Your mother didn’t just overdose,” he said in a low voice. “She was killed. Someone laced her drugs.”

Fang Yang barely reacted as if he had already suspected the truth.

“My mother also died because of drugs,” Chen Chen continued, his voice almost a whisper. “When she couldn’t pay her debts, they drained every drop of her blood. I never even got the chance to save her. You’re luckier than I was.”

Fang Yang extended his hand and gripped Chen Chen’s cold fingers firmly. “At least I can avenge her.”

Chen Chen looked at him for a moment, then smiled faintly. “We will, once we have the power to do it.”