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Zhao Yun Lan found out his father was dead while he was pouring concrete down the throat of a backstabbing dickbag. “Chief, I'm sorry, the Boss is gone. Shot to the head, on his way to meet the Russians.”
He reacted in the way expected of the ‘Lord of Guardians’ — he finished pouring concrete down that fucker’s throat, ignoring the full body convulsions, and then stalked out of the warehouse. The sun was just beginning to rise over the harbor. Someone else would have to take care of the body. Da Qing was waiting for him at the entrance, and he handed Zhao Yun Lan his coat as they both headed toward the car.
“What a fucking time for the old man to die,” Zhao Yun Lan said disgust, “He couldn't have waited another fucking month?” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, messing it up even more. “Now we’ll have to sit down with Yashou and Dixing within the week. With the Russians and the police still sniffing around, what the hell are we supposed to do?”
“Sorry, I thought you were talking about shit we already know, and I just needed to nod,” Da Qing said as he looked up from his phone; a flash of a fish recipe could be seen before he blocked the screen.
“I don't know why I haven't killed you yet,” muttered Zhao Yun Lan, wiping blood and bits of wet concrete off his hands.
“Because I know where you buried the bodies. Now shut the fuck up and get changed into something that doesn't make you look like a dollar whore.”
Zhao Yun Lan looked down at his jean shorts and the skin tight mesh shirt he was wearing beneath his long coat. “I was at a private club, and I didn't have time to change when they caught him.”
Da Qing glanced at Zhao Yun Lan, judgment in his eyes. “Whatever, just change into these.” He flung a bag into the other man’s lap. “You can't go to the morgue in that.”
…
Dragon City Hospital was a giant eight-storey building rendered blindingly white under the morning sun. It was located fairly centrally in the business district and was about ten minutes from the police station by car. For people like Zhao Yun Lan, this proved pretty convenient.
Now dressed in a tailored black suit, Zhao Yun Lan finally actually looked like the heir to one of the biggest gangs in South East Asia. His car door opened and he waited for Da Qing to get out first; there were traditions and protocols to follow, and now that the old man was gone, Zhao Yun Lan needed to be fucking flawless if he wanted to hold the alliance together and not get shot in the back or carted off to prison. They had thought they had more time.
“Chief,” Da Qing whispered as Zhao Yun Lan took stock of himself; he didn’t have time to be mundane. Adjusting the cut of his suit jacket, Zhao Yun Lan got out of the car.
Haixing members dressed in black lined the car on both sides, six to a row. For fuck’s sake, they were already causing a scene. Zhao Yun Lan nodded and flicked a glare at Da Qing. The fucking cat shrugged. So, he wasn’t the one who had called in reinforcements.
He looked at Da Qing and shook his head, then walked into the hospital without a backward glance. Da Qing would deal with it — Zhao Yun Lan had a body to identify.
…
Zhao Xin Ci had been dying from an inoperable brain tumour — the prognosis had been another eight months at the most. He had informed Zhao Yun Lan over breakfast one morning. Zhao Yun Lan had broken his coffee mug by throwing it at the wall. He had thought his old man would be around for decades yet.
So, eight months. Time was short, and their plans for going legal — shaving off the drug trade and easing up on the weapons smuggling — had to be wrapped up in the space of a few months instead of years. They had fast tracked everything: pissing off the Russians about the weapons, fucking the Yashou with their drug couriers, and making deals with the fucking Dixing over the lawful use of the docks for transporting recyclable materials. Nothing could be absolutely perfect, but they were close to cementing an alliance of sorts that wasn't going to end with Haixing gutted and left to be picked dry.
And then, of fucking course, dear old dad had to go and get himself offed publicly while on his way to smooth things over with the Russians.
…
The morgue was empty; the coroner had taken one look at him and then quietly left the office after showing him the gurney. Zhao Yun Lan supposed the body on the table had to be the old man.
He looked down at the sheet covering the body and breathed out, “Fuck it,” before pulling the sheet back.
Unlike the movies, headshots weren’t pretty, especially if a high powered gun had been used. Whoever had done it was a professional. It had been a double tap to the back of the head, an instant kill that had blown out half of the skull and face, leaving behind a gory mess of blood and brains. But it was Zhao Xin Ci, there was no mistaking the bastard.
Zhao Yun Lan stood alone and silent for a very long time.
…
Da Qing was waiting for him at the doors of the morgue. He took one look at Zhao Yun Lan and sighed. “We have a situation. The police are upstairs at the reception counter. They want to speak to you. I contacted Hong-jie, she’s on her way to the police station. So, don't say anything till she gets there.”
…
After the morning he had, plus the whole afternoon spent at the police station, Zhao Yun Lan just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. But he couldn’t.
He scrolled through his phone, reading updates on the different arms of the business and making sure the family was in contact. Lin Jing was looking through financial transactions, trying to figure out who was taking out contracts on their turf, while also keeping a careful eye on the forensics report. Sang Zan was dealing with the Russians, and the last Zhao Yun Lan had heard, Xiao Guo was helping the police with the ‘investigation’; Chu was most likely with him.
Zhu Hong had left him outside the police station. She needed to get back to the office to make sure that Uncle Four wouldn’t take this opportunity to side with the Yashou and completely fuck them over.
Zhao Yun Lan was also pretty sure that he had seen Wang Zheng’s email about the inheritance ceremony, which needed to happen within the next forty-eight hours.
“Chief, you’re home.” Da Qing put a hand on his shoulder and shook him lightly. Huh, it looked like he had drifted off in the middle of figuring out how to respond to the Dixing Justicar’s condolence email. Zhao Yun Lan blinked a few times and looked out the car window. Sure enough, he was in front of his three-storey terraced house. Hell, he was going have to move to be closer to the head office.
“Thanks. Go back and get some sleep,” Zhao Yun Lan said, giving a small wave before heading inside. A quick survey showed that security seemed to have doubled since yesterday, and Zhao Yun Lan wouldn’t be surprised if Lin Jing had also installed more security cameras.
As he walked through the front door, old man Li welcomed him home and offered no comment on the day's events. Li was good that way, knowing when not to push.
“Sir, there’s a guest in the study.”
It had to be someone important — anybody else wouldn’t have been allowed to approach him in his own home without prior warning, and few people would dare interrupt him today of all days. Zhao Yun Lan straightened his shoulders and headed towards the study.
This better be important.
...
There was a man standing in the study, facing away from the door and a hand idly passing over the spines of the books lined up neatly on a shelf against the wall.
Zhao Yun Lan felt all the air leave his body. His hands began to shake minutely and the world seemed to shrink in on itself, his only source of light and air now this person in the room. Hearing him come in, the man slowly turned around to face Zhao Yun Lan.
It was Shen Wei. Of course it was Shen Wei. He hasn't really changed much, hair a bit longer and carefully styled, and dressed in a buttoned-up vest and shirt and slim tailored suit pants. He looked remote and controlled, and he gazed at Zhao Yun Lan, expression flat and unreadable.
Zhao Yun Lan laughed. Of course this was how the day was going to go.
...
Two years ago, he had gone into that hotel confused and angry, but still wanting to believe that what they had was real. He had been ready to trust Shen Wei, ready to hand him his own fucking gun to prove a point because apparently Zhao Yun Lan doesn't have any survival instincts when it came to Shen Wei.
Shen Wei hadn’t betrayed them, hadn’t betrayed him. He had been furious at Zhao Yun Lan for surrendering his gun and knife and leaving himself vulnerable. Zhao Yun Lan could have cried with relief, knowing without a doubt that Shen Wei hadn't gotten close to him just to gut him.
But of course nothing was ever that simple. It had still been a set-up.
An apparent rogue cell of thirty Dixing members had decided it would be a great idea to take out the Haixing heir apparent and the Soul Eater. They had planted themselves throughout the hotel. The only way out was through them.
...
Zhao Yun Lan took a deep breath and moved across the room to pour himself a glass of bourbon. It put his back to Shen Wei, not that it mattered. Zhao Yun Lan was good, but not that good. If Shen Wei was here for a contract on him, Zhao Yun Lan would never see him coming. Shen Wei was the fucking Soul Eater, the assassin and wetwork expert that put whatever Zhao Yun Lan could do to shame. He took a sip of the bourbon, closed his eyes, and breathed softly through his nose.
He turned around, Shen Wei hadn't moved from where he stood. His back was straight and his hands were at his side. He looked deceptively innocent, though he was frowning slightly at the glass in Zhao Yun Lan’s hands.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of having his Lord Soul Eater visit my humble abode?” Zhao Yun Lan grinned and then took a seat, back slouching. Shen Wei used to find him irresistible like this — he would stalk towards him, all brutal grace, push between his open legs and kiss him until he was breathless, grinding into him hungrily and refusing to let up until Zhao Yun Lan was whining with need.
Shen Wei doesn't move, though he gestured to the file on the table that Zhao Yun Lan hadn't noticed before. Zhao Yun Lan quirked a brow at him, took the file and skimmed through it.
“This is paperwork your father thought you should know about,” Shen Wei said. His voice hasn't changed, and of fucking course Zhao Yun Lan’s father had been in contact with his ex. A few situations that had been resolved way too quickly in the past two years started to make sense. That fucking old man.
“Your father hired me to deal with Dixing about two years ago,” Shen Wei continued, voice unwavering. He sounded like he was discussing the weather and not the fact that he had been happy to work for Zhao Yun Lan’s father but had refused to answer any and all forms of communication with Zhao Yun Lan himself.
Zhao Yun Lan wanted to throw his glass at Shen Wei’s head, or maybe shoot his old man himself. He continued to read the file, and each piece of information felt like pieces of a puzzle that he hadn’t even known were missing. For the first time in twelve hours, his mind quieted down. Things slowly clicked into place. He looked up, expression wiped clean.
“Two years ago. Right after the hotel?”
A pause. “Yes.”
“The radio silence?” Zhao Yun Lan was not stupid; there was a reason why people feared and respected him.
“Deep cover. I was tracking.” Shen Wei’s hands clenched into fists. He still had that tell.
“I take it the kill hit on the previous Dixing Lord was you?” He had always wondered who could have made it into the middle of that fortress in the middle of the day and decapitate the man without anyone noticing. At the time, he had thought maybe Shen Wei, but he hadn’t dared hope, and it had been too bloody and messy, a stark contrast to Shen Wei’s normally efficient kills.
“It took eight months of surveillance. But I got him in the end.”
“Ye Zun’s incarceration?” That one had been a surprise. Nobody had known what had happened, but when one of the Underworld’s most notorious killers and monsters suddenly turned up in a high security mental institution with his empire laid to waste, it was bound to cause curiosity.
“He was going to take you and sell you to the highest bidder because of me.” Fury laced Shen Wei’s voice. The implication that death would have been too merciful caused a small warm feeling to bloom in Zhao Yun Lan’s stomach.
“Why now?” Zhao Yun Lan wasn’t dumb. It had to have something to do with the old man’s death, some sort of failsafe so that his idiot son wouldn’t fuck up.
“In about five hours, the police will find the body of the current Dixing Lord in his bed, a double tap to the head. It’ll look like a professional hit, and a match to your father,” Shen Wei said quietly into the sudden stillness. Zhao Yun Lan could feel the breath in his lungs freeze as what Shen Wei was implying became clear.
“You —”
“He was dying.” Shen Wei interrupted him, appearing nervous for the first time, “He contacted me and told me it was time to stop being the angry, overprotective boyfriend. He then told me how I could keep you safe. I did what I had to do.”
Sometimes, it was easy to let time erase parts of a person. He remembered Shen Wei’s smile, his intellect, and how dangerous he could be. But time and bitterness had made him forget how in love Shen Wei was with him. Shen Wei who had killed three people during their first meeting to save Zhao Yun Lan. Shen Wei who had kissed him softly, cooked him meals, walked side by side with him as they talked about everything and anything under the sun. Shen Wei who had snarled that Zhao Yun Lan was his, and that nobody would be taking him away as Zhao Yun Lan had laid in his own blood, slowly dying.
“How long are you staying?” Zhao Yun Lan asked, the file forgotten.
“As long as you’ll have me,” Shen Wei said, desperation coloring his voice and eyes turning red behind those stupid fake spectacles.
Zhao Yun Lan could be indignant or angry, and hurl accusations at Shen Wei about betrayal and his father’s death, but honestly, he was tired. Their current situation was bad, they were under siege from all sides, and Zhao Yun Lan had been thinking about this man for two years.
He set his glass down and stood up. He undid his tie and started to unbutton his shirt before he paused. “Do you need a verbal invitation?”
Shen Wei looked up from where his eyes had been following his fingers, ears red and lips slightly parted. He blinked slowly as he looked at Zhao Yun Lan, and a small, heartbreaking smile appeared on his face. It didn't last long before it was swallowed up by a hungry look.
Shen Wei stalked towards Zhao Yun Lan and batted his hands away from his collar. He walked him backwards until his back slammed into the wall. Pushed between Zhao Yun Lan’s open legs, Shen Wei wrapped his hands around his hips and reeled him in further. He kissed like a drowning man as his tongue invade Zhao Yun Lan’s mouth. His hands moved up the front of Zhao Yun Lan’s shirt, and with one sharp pull, he snapped the buttons off and ripped his shirt open. Zhao Yun Lan refused to back down, hands going around to Shen Wei’s arse to pull him in as his tongue licked into Shen Wei’s mouth.
Shen Wei pulled back, just enough to murmur, “We need to move this to your bedroom.” His voice was low and cracked; any hint of the softspoken scholar had dropped to the wayside, and the dangerous animal was on full display. Zhao Yun Lan grinned back at him. “I think a bit of wall sex is a great start to our reunion.” He pushed forward again to capture Shen Wei’s lips.
Circling Zhao Yun Lan’s waist with his left arm and reaching under the man’s left leg with his right arm, Shen Wei lifted. For a split second, Zhao Yun Lan was suspended between the wall and Shen Wei, arms clinging to Shen Wei’s neck and legs wrapped desperately around his waist.
“You bastard, you’ve gotten stronger,” Zhao Yun Lan whispered in awe.
“My boyfriend always said that he wanted to be carried.” Shen Wei smirked before walking towards the bedroom, arms full of Zhao Yun Lan.
…
The last time he had seen Shen Wei, Zhao Yun Lan had been bleeding out on the floor of the hotel after taking two shots to the stomach for Shen Wei. Shen Wei had pressed down on the bullet wound with his suit jacket, snarling at him to fucking stay still. His last thought had been that Shen Wei was beautiful, and that he had wanted to kiss away his frown.
He had woken up in the hospital with two broken ribs, one broken wrist, a concussion, and of course, the two bullet holes in his gut. They had found the bodies in the hotel corridor and room. Shen Wei had finished what they had started, arteries sliced apart, stab wounds to the kidneys and double taps to the head. No one could say that Shen Wei wasn't good at what he did.
Shen Wei had skipped out of town after making sure Zhao Yun Lan would live, hopping on a plane to another continent, all so that he didn't have to talk to Zhao Yun Lan, who yes, had fucked up by thinking Shen Wei was out to kill them all while being furious at himself for being the dumbass to have fallen for Shen Wei, the fucking Soul Eater, the hitman who could kill anyone.
Yes, he had screwed up, but it would have been fucking nice to know that the love of his fucking life had a twin brother who liked to fuck with him by breaking his toys and shitting on his life in general.
Zhao Yun Lan would have liked to think that he was more than just a toy, but it was hard to when Shen Wei had disappeared without a fucking word, leaving behind memories and a note that had said not to contact him. Zhao Yun Lan had tried, he had tried everything and Shen Wei had never once answered.
Laid out in the hospital bed Zhao Yun Lan had realised that Ye Zun had set him and Shen Wei up. He couldn’t ever be sure whether the first meeting between Shen Wei and him was arranged. He was 100% certain that the dead Haixing members with Shen Wei’s call sign, and the breadcrumbs of evidence that led to Zhao Yun Lan’s suspicions over Shen Wei’s loyalty were Ye Zun. The location for Shen Wei at the hotel had come from Ye Zun, crazy as a bag-of-cats Ye Zun and his fucking brother complex. And Zhao Yun Lan had believed it for a split second.
Now, almost two years after what they had had come crashing down, arguably by Zhao Yun Lan’s own hands, Shen Wei had wandered back into his life.
...
“I had apologies. I was going to beg you on my knees if you didn't want me here,” Shen Wei whispered into his ear.
“I'm always going to want you here, you fucker. I wanted you next to me when I thought you were just using me for sex and information,” Zhao Yun Lan furiously gasped out as Shen Wei pushed in, one strong, smooth slide which burned him from the inside out.
“I was terrified, I thought I was going to lose you.” Shen Wei pulled out slowly and then pushed back in, unbearably slow. “I needed to kill everyone that was going to hurt you.”
“Shut up, you idiot, I can kill them myself.” Zhao Yun Lan hissed as Shen Wei bit him on the back of his neck, feeling as if Shen Wei wanted to consume him bit by bit, holding still inside of him. “You’ll be making this up to me for the rest of your life. Now move.”
Shen Wei grabbed his hips and pulled him back towards him, thrusting in as deep as he could, and Zhao Yun Lan could only offer broken moans and angry snarls.
He had missed Shen Wei more than he could say. To have him here, thrusting in and out of him, pulling on his hips, fingers in his mouth and wrapped around his cock is something he had hoped and prayed for but hadn’t dared to voice aloud.
Tomorrow would bring the police, the blood and all the fury and anger buried inside of Zhao Yun Lan. But in this moment, he had Shen Wei.
…
FIN