The Damn War

The Tuesday morning sun crawled into the penthouse like it was apologising for the goddamn carnage that was coming later tonight. The air was still thick with the scent of old coffee, digital ozone, and the faint, stabilizing rain-scent of Gao Tu’s pheromones.

Sheng ShaYou and his secretary had crashed in the guest suites after a grueling twelve-hour session of hacking into the Old Associates' shitty offshore accounts, and also through the weekend. Wenlang woke up feeling like he’d been kicked in the ribs by a goddamn mule, his S-Tier power humming under his skin with a restless, energy.

He wandered into the kitchen, his hair a matted mess and his eyes still flickering with a low, sleepy gold. He found Hua Yong already there, looking annoyingly put-together in a black silk robe, staring at the espresso machine like it was a goddamn tactical map.

Then, ShaYou and Gao Tu walked in.

ShaYou looked surprisingly human in a borrowed t-shirt, his usual "CEO" armor stripped away. He slumped into a chair, and without a single word, Gao Tu stepped behind him.

The Omega’s fingers moved with a practiced, intimate ease, massaging the tension out of ShaYou’s shoulders before leaning down to press a quick, lingering kiss to the Alpha’s temple.

"Coffee's almost done, ShaYou," Gao Tu murmured, his voice soft and full of a quiet, soft affection.

Hua Yong froze. He stared at them, his violet eyes blowing wide with a look of pure, unadulterated shock. He looked at Gao Tu, then at ShaYou, then back to the Omega as if he was seeing a goddamn ghost.

"Wait," Hua Yong rumbled, his voice sounding like gravel in a blender. "He’s your... he’s your secretary. Why is he kissing your head? Is this some kind of specialized Sheng Corp employee benefit?"

Wenlang, who was halfway through a glass of water, nearly choked. He let out a loud, bark of a laugh that probably echoed all the way to the lobby.

"Oh my god," Wenlang wheezed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You didn't know?"

"Know what?" Hua Yong snapped, his brow furrowing in a way that made him look less like a Reaper and more like a confused, cute golden retriever.

"I thought they were a highly efficient tactical unit."

"They’ve been together for six goddamn years, you idiot!" Wenlang cackled, pointing a shaking finger at the Enigma. "The 'Chairman' is a genius, the 'Reaper' can see through walls, but he can’t see two people being in a goddamn relationship right under his nose? They live together! They have a dog, for fuck’s sake!"

Sheng ShaYou looked up, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his face. "He really didn't know? I thought Enigmas were supposed to be all-seeing or whatever shitty marketing you guys use."

"I... I focused on the efficiency," Hua Yong muttered, a faint, pinkish flush actually creeping up his neck. "I saw the synchronization. I assumed it was a professional compatibility metric."

"Professional metric?" Wenlang doubled over, his gold eyes watering. "Hua Yong, you’re a goddamn disaster. They were literally holding hands over the floor plans at 3:00 AM while you were complaining about the firewall! You’re so obsessed with being a monster that you forgot how humans actually work, you prick."

Hua Yong let out a low, embarrassed growl and turned back to the coffee machine. "Shut up, Wenlang. Just because I don't spend my time analyzing everyone's shitty romantic lives doesn't mean I'm an idiot."

"It kind of does," Gao Tu added quietly, a small, spark of mischief in his eyes as he handed ShaYou a mug.

The laughter died down eventually, replaced by a thick, vibrating peace.

They sat around the kitchen island—four people who should have been fucking enemies, sharing a final, quiet breakfast before the world turned into a goddamn meat grinder.

ShaYou reached out and squeezed Wenlang’s hand, a solid, grounding weight. "We’re ready, Wenlang. The bank accounts are primed to collapse the second we give the word. Those Old Associates pricks won't have a goddamn cent left to their names by midnight."

Wenlang nodded, his gaze drifting to Hua Yong. The Enigma was watching him, his violet eyes dark and full of that "closed circuit" heat they’d shared the night before. There was no more confusion there—just a raw, promise.

"Enjoy the quiet while it lasts," Hua Yong rumbled, his voice dropping into that terrifying, low register. "Because tonight, we aren't just going to a fucking party. We’re going to a goddamn execution."

Wenlang stood in front of the full-length mirror in the master bedroom, adjusting the cuffs of a tailored, midnight-blue suit that felt like a goddamn second skin. He looked like a King—sharp, lethal, and ready to break some fucking bones.

The gold in his eyes was no longer sleepy; it was a burning, S-Tier fire.

The door opened, and Hua Yong walked in.

If Wenlang looked like a King, Hua Yong looked like the goddamn God of Death. He was in a black-on-black tuxedo, his violet eyes glowing like radioactive embers. He walked over to Wenlang, his presence filling the room until the air felt heavy enough to shatter.

He didn't say a word. He just reached out, his fingers brushing the mark on Wenlang's neck, sending a jolt of pure, adrenaline through the bond.

"You ready?" Hua Yong whispered.

"I've been ready since the second they put this shitty mark on me," Wenlang rasped, his fingers tightening into fists. "Let's go ruin some lives."

They walked out of the penthouse, flanked by ShaYou and Gao Tu, four monsters in expensive suits heading straight into the heart of the goddamn shitshow.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The Grand Imperial Hotel was a goddamn monument to everything Wenlang hated. It was a shitty, gold-leafed palace built on the backs of people who didn't have enough S-Tier power to fight back. The air outside was thick with the smell of expensive exhaust, nauseating floral arrangements, and the desperate, sweaty pheromones of the paparazzi waiting like goddamn vultures behind the velvet ropes.

"Look at this place," Wenlang spat as the black armored SUV pulled up to the curb. "It smells like a goddamn funeral for common sense."

"It’s a target-rich environment," Hua Yong rumbled from the seat next to him.

The Enigma looked like a fucking nightmare wrapped in a five-thousand-dollar tuxedo. He was vibrating with a cold, jagged energy that made the tinted windows of the car rattle. Beside them, Sheng ShaYou was checking his gold watch, his face a mask of pure, sweary professional hatred, while Gao Tu sat like a silent, lethal shadow with a tablet tucked under his arm.

The valet opened the door, and the world exploded into a shitty symphony of camera flashes and screaming reporters. Wenlang stepped out first, his midnight-blue suit catching the light like a goddamn oil slick. He didn't smile. He didn't wave. He just stood there, his gold eyes glowing with a low, radioactive heat that made the nearest photographers stumble back like they’d been hit with a physical blow.

Then Hua Yong stepped out.

The temperature on the sidewalk didn't just drop; it fucking plummeted. The "Reaper" presence was a heavy, suffocating weight, a dark violet tide that crashed against the glittery facade of the Gala. Behind them, ShaYou and Gao Tu moved in perfect, synchronized step—a power quartet heading straight into the mouth of the goddamn beast.

"Keep it together, Wenlang," ShaYou muttered under his breath as they climbed the marble stairs. "We don't start the massacre until we're inside the VIP lounge. I want those shitty fossils to see their bank accounts hit zero before you start breaking their goddamn necks."

"No promises, ShaYou," Wenlang hissed, his fingers itching to wrap around someone's throat.

They pushed through the heavy oak doors, and the sound of a shitty string quartet hit them like a bucket of cold vomit. The ballroom was a sea of pearls, silk, and the most punchable faces in the city. At the far end of the room, tucked away in the "Omega Suite," sat the Old Associates—four withered, shitty old men who looked like they were made of dusty parchment and pure, unadulterated malice.

As the four of them walked through the crowd, the room went goddamn silent. It wasn't the respectful kind of silence; it was the kind of quiet you get when people realize they’re standing in a room with a goddamn unexploded bomb.

The "closed circuit" between Wenlang and Hua Yong was screaming now, a high-voltage hum of gold and violet power that made the crystal chandeliers overhead begin to vibrate and chime with a frantic, shitty rhythm.

"There they are," Wenlang whispered, his eyes locking onto the head of the board, a decrepit prick named Director Zhan. "The bastards who thought they could rewrite my life."

Zhan stood up, a greasy, fake smile stretching across his wrinkled face. He held up a glass of champagne like he was welcoming back a pair of goddamn lost puppies.

"Chairman Hua! And our perfected King, Wenlang!" Zhan’s voice was a thin, shitty wheeze. "You look... magnificent. The synchronization levels must be off the goddamn charts. Truly, the Project's greatest success."

"Success?" Hua Yong’s voice didn't just carry; it vibrated in the goddamn floorboards. He stepped forward, his shadow stretching out across the ballroom floor like a dark, jagged stain. "You didn't create a success, Zhan. You created a goddamn reckoning."

Sheng ShaYou stepped up beside them, his thumb hovering over the 'Execute' button on his phone. "And you forgot one thing, you ancient, shitty fossil. You can’t control a King when his friends have the keys to your goddamn vault."

The air in the VIP suite turned into a fucking hurricane of pheromones—dominance, rage, and the cold, metallic scent of the Reaper. The war wasn't coming anymore; it was fucking here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

ShaYou didn’t even look at the ancient pricks. He just tapped the screen of his phone with a cold, shitty finality.

"Check your notifications, Zhan," ShaYou said, his voice as sharp as a goddamn razor. "I think your net worth just took a fucking swan dive into a goddamn woodchipper."

Zhan’s smug, wrinkled face twitched. In his pocket, his phone let out a series of frantic, shitty chirps. Then another board member’s phone went off. And another. The sound was like a goddamn chorus of dying birds. Zhan pulled his device out, his shaky fingers swiping through alerts of frozen accounts, liquidated assets, and shell companies being ripped open by the goddamn feds.

"What... what is this?" Zhan wheezed, the color draining from his face until he looked like a goddamn corpse.

"You can't... this is decades of work! This is the Project’s capital!"

"The Project is bankrupt, you greedy old fuck," ShaYou spat, stepping back to let Wenlang take the goddamn stage. "And so are you. Gao Tu just leaked the location of every single one of your shitty labs to the authorities. You aren't just broke; you’re goddamn radioactive."

Wenlang felt it then—the shift in the air. The "closed circuit" between him and Hua Yong wasn't just humming anymore; it was screaming like a goddamn jet engine. The fear radiating off the Old Associates was like a jagged, rotting scent that made Wenlang’s S-Tier blood boil with a pure, unadulterated need for carnage.

Wenlang felt it then—the shift in the air. The "closed circuit" between him and Hua Yong wasn't just humming anymore; it was screaming like a goddamn jet engine. The fear radiating off the Old Associates was like a jagged, rotting scent that made Wenlang’s S-Tier blood boil with a pure, unadulterated need for carnage.

"You thought you could own me?" Wenlang growled, stepping into the center of the VIP lounge.

His gold eyes weren't just glowing; they were bleeding light, casting long, jagged shadows across the gold-leafed walls. He felt Hua Yong’s violet Reaper energy anchoring him, a heavy, terrifying weight that amplified Wenlang's own power until the very air in the room started to vibrate with a shitty, high-pitched hum.

You thought you could put a mark on me and turn me into a goddamn tool?" Wenlang’s voice didn't just carry; it hit the old men like a physical blow, making them stumble back into their expensive, shitty velvet chairs.

Wenlang let his power go.

It wasn't a punch. It was a goddamn tsunami of S-Tier dominance. The crystal chandeliers overhead didn't just rattle—they fucking exploded, raining down shards of glass like a goddamn diamond storm. The expensive champagne bottles on the tables shattered, spraying the Old Associates with bubbly, shitty remains of their own wealth.

Zhan fell to his knees, clutching his chest as Wenlang’s aura pressed down on him like a goddamn hydraulic press. The old man’s breath was coming in short, shitty gasps, his eyes wide and terrified as he looked up at the "perfected unit" he had tried to create.

"We... we made you..." Zhan choked out.

"No," Hua Yong’s voice cut through the chaos, sounding like the goddamn tolling of a funeral bell. He stepped up behind Wenlang, his hand coming down on Wenlang's shoulder. The contact sent a surge of violet-gold energy through the room that literally cracked the marble floor. "You didn't make him. You just gave him a reason to bury you."

Wenlang reached down, grabbing Zhan by his expensive, shitty silk tie and hauling him up until they were nose-to-nose. The scent of Vance’s terror was a goddamn intoxicant.

"Look at me, you ancient prick," Wenlang hissed, his gold eyes burning into Vance’s soul. "Every lab, every file, every shitty experiment you ever ran—it’s gone. You have nothing. No money, no power, and no goddamn legacy. You’re just a pathetic, shitty old man who’s going to rot in a cage for the rest of his miserable life."

Wenlang shoved him back, and Zhan hit the floor like a sack of wet garbage. The rest of the board members were huddled together, shaking and crying, their "Old Associate" pride stripped away until they were just a bunch of terrified, sweary fossils waiting for the end.

"Get them out of my sight," Hua Yong commanded, his violet eyes shimmering with a cold, final judgment.

ShaYou nodded to the security team—the real security team he’d brought in to replace the hotel’s shitty staff. They moved in, dragging the old men out of the ballroom as the remaining guests watched in a shocked, sweary silence.

The war wasn't over, but the massacre of the Old Associates was a goddamn masterpiece. Wenlang stood in the middle of the wreckage, his chest heaving, his skin humming with the fading light of his own power. He looked at the shattered glass, the ruined suits, and the terrified elite of the city, and for the first time in a week, he felt like he could finally goddamn breathe.

The adrenaline from the Gala was starting to wear off, replaced by a heavy, sweary exhaustion that felt like lead in Wenlang’s boots. They didn’t go back to the penthouse right away; ShaYou insisted on a "victory lap" at a private, high-end bistro that stayed open late for the kind of people who moved goddamn mountains before dessert.

The restaurant was quiet, dim, and smelled of expensive red wine and truffle oil—a far cry from the metallic, ozone-heavy chaos of the ballroom they’d just turned into a goddamn graveyard.

They sat in a secluded booth, the four of them finally letting the jagged edges of their power settle. ShaYou was busy smugly checking the news on his phone—watching the "shitty fossils" get hauled off in handcuffs on every major network—while Gao Tu quietly ordered a bottle of something that cost more than a goddamn sedan.

Wenlang was halfway through a steak. that tasted like pure, unadulterated triumph when he felt it.

Under the heavy white tablecloth, a large, warm hand settled firmly on his thigh.

It wasn’t a squeeze. It wasn’t a sexual grope. It was just... there. Hua Yong was leaning back, swirling a glass of scotch and talking to ShaYou about some goddamn logistical cleanup, acting like his hand wasn't currently burning a hole through Wenlang’s expensive suit trousers.

Wenlang froze, a piece of steak halfway to his mouth. He glanced at Hua Yong, but the Enigma wasn't even looking at him. He was completely focused on the conversation, his thumb absentmindedly brushing against the fabric of Wenlang's thigh in a slow, grounding rhythm.

It was a goddamn tether.

The "closed circuit" hummed, low and sweet, sending a wave of calm through Wenlang that he wasn't fucking ready for. He didn't push the hand away. He didn't say a word. He just took a jagged, shaky breath and kept eating, his heart doing a shitty, frantic flip-flop in his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car ride back was a goddamn sensory vacuum. ShaYou and Gao Tu were in the back of the second SUV, probably enjoying some well-earned peace, leaving Wenlang and Hua Yong alone in the back of the lead car.

The city lights blurred past the tinted windows in long, neon streaks of shitty purple and gold. Wenlang slumped against the leather seat, watching the reflection of Hua Yong in the glass. The Enigma looked tired—actually, humanly tired. The "Reaper" mask was cracked, showing the man underneath who had risked his goddamn empire to keep Wenlang from breaking.

I actually like him.

The thought hit Wenlang like a goddamn freight train. It wasn't the bond. It wasn't the biological "perfected unit" bullshit the Old Associates had dreamed up. It was the fact that he actually liked the way the prick looked when he was focused. He liked the way his hand felt on his leg. He liked the sweary, jagged way they fit together.

"You're staring, Wenlang," Hua Yong rumbled, his voice low and gravelly in the quiet of the car. He didn't turn his head, but a small, ghost of a smirk touched his lips.

"Shut up," Wenlang muttered, turning his face toward the window to hide the flush he knew was creeping up his neck. "I’m just making sure you haven't turned back into a goddamn statue yet."

At that Hua Yong just shrugged and continued looking out the window.

By the time they reached the penthouse and said their goodnights to ShaYou and Gao Tu, the air in the hallway was thick enough to choke on. The "closed circuit" was vibrating, a heavy, expectant heat that made every step toward the master bedroom feel like walking into a goddamn furnace.

They stepped inside, the door hissing shut with a finality that made Wenlang’s pulse skyrocket.

Hua Yong started shedding his tuxedo jacket, his movements slow and powerful. Wenlang stood by the edge of the bed, his fingers fumbling with his own cufflinks. Usually, he’d just bark something out, some sweary command or a blunt declaration of what he wanted. He’d done it before—“I want to kiss you.”

But this time... it felt different. It felt real. And that made it goddamn terrifying.

Wenlang watched Hua Yong toss his tie onto a chair, his own throat feeling like it was full of dry sand. He wanted that mouth on his again. He wanted the heat. But the words were stuck, jagged and sharp, in the back of his throat. He felt like a goddamn teenager, hesitant and shaky, hovering on the edge of something he couldn't control.

"Wenlang?" Hua Yong turned, his violet eyes locking onto Wenlang’s flickering gold ones. He sensed the shift. He felt the hesitation through the bond like a goddamn live wire. "What is it?"

Wenlang licked his dry lips, his heart thumping a frantic, shitty rhythm against his ribs. He took a half-step forward, his hands trembling just a goddamn bit.

"I..." Wenlang started, his voice cracking. He looked down at his own feet, then back up at the man who had become his entire goddamn world in the span of a week. "Can you... I mean, would you... fuck's sake, Hua Yong. Kiss me. Please."

It wasn't a demand this time. It was a goddamn plea.

Hua Yong didn’t move for a long, agonizing second. He just stood there, his chest rising and falling in a slow, jagged rhythm that seemed to sync up with the frantic thumping of Wenlang’s own heart. His violet eyes weren't cold anymore; they were a goddamn supernova of heat and unspoken, sweary promises.

"Please?" Hua Yong repeated the word like it was a foreign language, his voice dropping into a register so low it made the floorboards vibrate under Wenlang’s feet.

Then, the distance between them vanished.

Hua Yong didn’t just walk over; he surged forward, his hands cupping Wenlang’s face with a desperation that was fucking terrifying. He tilted Wenlang’s head back, his thumbs brushing over the Alpha’s cheekbones before he crashed their mouths together.

It wasn’t like the first kiss. That one was a test, a shitty experiment. This was a goddamn explosion.

Wenlang let out a wrecked, groan, his hands flying up to grab the front of Hua Yong’s expensive dress shirt, bunching the silk in his fists until he heard the seams start to give way. The "closed circuit" between them didn't just hum—it screamed, a roar of pure, golden-violet static that made Wenlang’s vision go white.

They stumbled back, hitting the edge of the massive bed with a thud that knocked the goddamn wind out of Wenlang’s lungs, but he didn't care. He was too busy chasing the taste of scotch and raw, unadulterated need on Hua Yong’s tongue.

"The shirts," Wenlang gasped out against Hua Yong’s lips, his fingers fumbling with the goddamn buttons like they were a puzzle he couldn't solve. "Get these fucking things off."

Hua Yong didn't bother with the buttons. He gripped the collar of Wenlang’s midnight-blue shirt and gave it a violent, jagged yank. The buttons went flying, hitting the hardwood floor like a goddamn hail of plastic shrapnel. Wenlang returned the favor, his S-Tier strength making short work of Hua Yong’s tuxedo shirt, the fabric ripping apart to reveal the hard, heated planes of the Enigma’s chest.

When their bare skin finally collided, it felt like a goddamn lightning strike.

Wenlang’s breath hitched, his fingers digging into the muscles of Hua Yong’s back, mapping out every jagged line of his body. The air in the room was thick with their scents—sandalwood, ozone, and a deep, heavy musk that was purely, intoxicatingly them.

There was no more "Chairman," no more "King," and no more "Project Omega." There was just the two of them, half-naked and gasping in the dark, skin-to-skin as the world outside the penthouse burned in the wake of their goddamn carnage.

Hua Yong pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against Wenlang’s, his violet eyes glowing like radioactive embers in the dim light.

"You're not a tool, Wenlang," Hua Yong hissed, his hands sliding down to grip Wenlang’s bare waist. "And you're sure as hell not a dog."

"I know," Wenlang rasped, his gold eyes burning with a new, terrifying kind of fire. "Now shut the fuck up and finish what we started."

The room was spinning, the air thick with the scent of their combined power, but suddenly Hua Yong’s hands tightened on Wenlang’s waist with a grip that wasn't about lust—it was about anchors. He stopped, his chest heaving against Wenlang’s, his head bowing until his forehead was pressed hard against Wenlang’s collarbone.

The "closed circuit" between them felt like it was weeping, a jagged, raw frequency of regret that Wenlang hadn't been prepared for.

"No, Wenlang," Hua Yong rasped, the words sounding like they were being torn out of his goddamn throat. "I mean... I’m sorry. For the mark, for the lab, for every shitty thing I did to you before I realized you were a person and not just a fucking goal."

He pulled back just enough to look Wenlang in the eyes, and for the first time, the "Reaper" looked completely, terrifyingly human. His violet eyes were clouded with a sweary kind of grief that made Wenlang’s heart seize up.

"I don't know what love is," Hua Yong admitted, the confession sounding like a goddamn death sentence in the quiet of the room. "I don't know how to do any of this shit. But I’m fucking sorry. I'm so goddamn sorry, Wenlang."

The silence that followed was heavier than any of the S-Tier pressure they’d faced at the Gala. It was a raw, sweary confession from a man who had been built to be a monster, trying to find his way back to being something real.

Wenlang stared at him, his own gold eyes wide, the sweary retort he had ready dying in his throat. This wasn't a Chairman. This was just a man, as broken and lost as he was.

"No,don't Hua Yong, it dosen't matter anymore. Fuck it it it happend. You know you were wrong, and that's what matters. Now let fucking go of it and never speak about it."

With that Hua Yong kissed him, hard, pinning Wenlang's wrists over his head on both side. The Enigma was now sitting on him, fingers intertwined with his. He leaned down again and kissed him slow, passionately.

Wenlang moaned into Hua Yong's mouth. His hips buckled suddenly. He wanted more.

"H... Hua Yong?" Wenlang gasped out a bit out of air.

"Mmh?" Hua Yong said, pulling back slightly to look into the Alpha's golden eyes.

"Please?" Wenlang said, still a bit out of breath.

Hua Yong seemed to undertsand what Wenlang wanted.

"Wenlang... are you sure?" Hua Yong said, suprised a bit.

"I mean... we don't have to do it. But i need more i want more. Please?" Wenlang, said surprising even himslef.

"Okay," was only what Hua Yong said, before kissing the Alpha with fevor.

This time they knew this was going to be totally different then the other times. No bond, not forced, not pushed. No, real, just fucking utterly real.

Hua Yong traced a hand down Wenlan's bare skin, utill he reached Wenlan's waist band. He tugged at it, slowly taking them off Wenlang.

When they here off, Hua Yong's face was like he was seeing Wenlang in a new light. He saw the true beauty of this Alpha, a beauty he never really saw before, like att all.

Hua Yong glanced up at Wenlang.

"Fuck you,re... so beautiful!"

Wenlang only smilled, a silent "thank you," since right now he couldn't form word, because of the way the Enigma was touching him.

Hua Yong smilled back, kissing Wenlang again. Then he trailed down leaving hot kisses in his track down until he reached Wenlang's hip. He slowly kissed Wenlang's hip bone.

"Mmmmh. Ah! Hua Yong." Wenlang gasped out, moaning.

Then without any warning, Hua Yong took Wenlang's dick into his mouth.

Wenlang let out a violent moan.

"F.... fuck... ah!" Wenlang gasped, gripping Hua Yong's hair tugging it.

Hua Yong let out a little sound that made Wenlang's stomach do a fucking violent flip. Fuck, he loved that sound.

Then Hua Yong quickened the pace even more, bobbing his head up and down, rentlenssly.

The sounds that came out of Wenlang, was a fucking beautiful, tune to Hua Yong. He loved it, maybe to much.

Then suddenly.

"Ah! Ah! Hua... Hua Yong! I'm gonna--"

Hua Yong cut him off, putting his hand on Wenlang's mouth, then pulled back. Not even seconds afther Wenlang letted out a fucking big moan, and came hard into Hua Yong's mouth. Hua Yong swallowed like it was nothing, then pulled back, breathless, kissing a shivering and shaky Wenlang on the cheek.

"F... fuck Hua Yong... that was .... wow."

Hua Yong chukled pulling Wenlang close to him, not even bothering changing, pulling the duvet cover over them.

An hour afther Wenlang drifted off to sleep. Hua Yong watched him for a bit, finally realizing he needed Wenlang more then he thought.

And that was something fucking big.

These rules he told himself, were crumbling day by day. The more time he'd spent with Wenlang, made those rules unable to be followed.

Wtih that, Hua Yong drifted off to sleep at his turn, holding the only person that mattered in his life now.