Episode 2

As I listened to Qing Zhao talk, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence. It was odd—just a few hours ago, my entire world had shattered, yet here he was, someone I barely knew, offering me an escape from my thoughts.

We walked side by side down the dimly lit street, the neon signs of small shops and distant traffic casting faint glows on the pavement. He had this quiet confidence about him, something that made people want to listen when he spoke. His posture was relaxed, but there was something controlled about the way he moved—like a man who was always aware of his surroundings, always expecting something.

“So… how have you been?” he asked, his dark eyes locking onto mine.

I hesitated. Did I really want to pour my heart out to a near stranger? But something about him made me feel safe. Or maybe it wasn’t safety. Maybe it was distraction. Either way, I sighed and admitted, “Not great. My parents… they’re getting a divorce.”

His expression remained unreadable. “That must be painful.”

I nodded. “It is. My father—he cheated on my mom. It’s just… I don’t understand how someone can do that to the person they’re supposed to love.” My voice was bitter, each word laced with anger I hadn’t yet found an outlet for.

Qing Zhao was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “People are selfish.”

The way he said it made me wonder if he was speaking from experience. There was something cold in his tone, like he had seen firsthand just how selfish people could be.

I glanced up at him. “You say that like you’ve been betrayed before.”

He smirked slightly, but it wasn’t a happy expression. “Something like that.”

I wanted to ask more, but I hesitated. Was it really my place to pry? After all, he didn’t owe me anything. And yet, there was something about him that made me want to understand him better.

We continued walking in silence for a few moments before he stopped abruptly. Turning to face me, he said, “You know… I meant it when I said I was grateful to you.”

I looked up at him, slightly caught off guard. “For what?”

“For comforting me that day. You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his voice softer now. “Most people wouldn’t have even approached me.”

I shrugged, suddenly feeling a bit flustered under his intense gaze. “It was nothing. I just—”

“It wasn’t nothing,” he cut in, his voice firm. “Most people wouldn’t have taken that risk.”

“Risk?” I echoed, frowning. “What do you mean?”

He exhaled slowly, as if debating something. Then, he gave a small, almost knowing smile. “Let’s just say… I’m not the kind of person you should be getting close to.”

His words sent a strange chill down my spine. There was something ominous about them, something that told me he wasn’t just being dramatic.

“Who are you?” I finally asked.

For a moment, he just looked at me. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he said, “Someone you shouldn’t be talking to.”

I frowned, feeling my frustration rise. “That’s not an answer.”

Before he could reply, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it quickly, and just like that, his entire demeanor shifted. His relaxed posture disappeared, his jaw clenched, and his eyes turned cold—so cold that for a second, I barely recognized the man in front of me.

“I have to go,” he said abruptly.

“Wait—”

He turned away, already walking down the street. But just before he disappeared into the shadows, he glanced back at me one last time.

“Be careful, alright?” His voice was softer now, almost hesitant. “You never know what kind of danger you might walk into.”

And then, he was gone.

I stood there, my heart pounding.

What the hell had I just gotten myself into?

The next few days passed in a blur. I tried to focus on helping my mother through the divorce, but Qing Zhao’s words kept replaying in my head. I barely knew the guy, and yet, something about him had left a mark on me.

I tried to push the thoughts away, telling myself it was just curiosity, nothing more. After all, I had made a vow—I wouldn’t let myself get involved with men. Not after what my father did. Not after seeing what love could turn into.

And yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had stumbled into something much bigger than I realized.

Then, one night, everything changed.

I was walking home from work when I felt it—the unmistakable sensation of being watched. At first, I told myself I was just being paranoid, that my mind was playing tricks on me. But as I turned onto a quieter street, I heard footsteps behind me.

I quickened my pace. The footsteps did too.

My heart pounded. I wasn’t the type to panic easily, but something about this didn’t feel right.

I reached into my bag, gripping my phone, ready to call for help. But before I could, a hand clamped down on my wrist, yanking me backward.

I gasped, struggling against the grip, but the man holding me was strong. He wore all black, his face partially obscured by the dim light.

“You shouldn’t have talked to him,” the man muttered.

My blood ran cold.

“Who—who are you?” I stammered.

The man’s grip tightened. “Stay away from Qing Zhao.”

I barely had time to process his words before a voice—calm, but deadly—cut through the night.

“I’d let go of her if I were you.”

The man holding me stiffened.

I turned my head and felt a rush of relief—and something else I couldn’t quite name—as I saw Qing Zhao standing a few feet away. But this wasn’t the same Qing Zhao I had comforted that night.

His expression was unreadable, his posture radiating something dangerous. He wasn’t just a handsome, brokenhearted guy anymore.

He was someone else entirely. Someone powerful. Someone terrifying.

And in that moment, I realized the truth.

Qing Zhao wasn’t just involved with the mafia.

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