CHAPTER 1- The Spill that changed Everything.

The rain had been falling since dusk, slicking the streets of Huajing into sheets of glass. Inside the narrow coffee shop, the air smelled of burnt sugar and espresso steam. Li Wei balanced three cups on a tray, his sneakers squeaking with every step. The manager’s voice had just warned him, “Don’t mess up Table 7—it’s the important client.”

He didn’t notice the three men in black suits until he was already turning the corner. One glance—shaved heads, coiled energy—and his palms went slick. At their table sat a man who didn’t quite belong to the ordinary world: posture straight, eyes unreadable, a faint scar tracing his jaw like an unfinished thought. Zhou Yichen.

Li Wei’s breath snagged. For a second, the café noise dimmed. Then his heel slipped on the wet tile.

Hot coffee arced through the air and splashed down the sleeve of the most dangerous man in Huajing.

The crash of the tray seemed louder than thunder. Li Wei froze, heart pounding in his throat. “I’m—oh no— I’m so sorry!” He grabbed napkins, fumbling. “I didn’t see the— please don’t— I’ll pay for the—”

“Stop,” the man said quietly. His voice wasn’t raised, but it carried the kind of authority that silences rooms.

Li Wei looked up. The man’s eyes were pale gray, the color of cold smoke.

“It’s fine,” Zhou Yichen said, dabbing once at the sleeve. “You can’t afford it anyway.”

The words hit like a slap, and Li Wei’s embarrassment ignited into defiance before he could stop it. “You don’t know what I can afford.”

Something almost like amusement flickered through those eyes. One corner of Yichen’s mouth lifted. “Apparently not.”

The three men behind him exchanged looks. One, tall with a jagged scar—Han Shen—chuckled under his breath. The second, Rui Lang, grinned and whispered, “Boss likes this one.” The third, a lean figure with silver glasses—Mo Jin—didn’t look up from his phone but murmured, “He’s still alive, so yes, apparently.”

Li Wei tried again, pressing napkins against the fabric until their fingers brushed. The contact was accidental, a spark where skin met silk, but it made him still. Yichen didn’t move either; his gaze held Li Wei’s for a heartbeat too long.

“Careful,” Yichen said, tone softer now. “You’ll burn yourself.”

“I—it’s just coffee,” Li Wei stammered.

“Not the coffee.”

He didn’t explain. The words lingered between them like the aftertaste of something bittersweet.

Han Shen stood, collecting the untouched cups. “We’ll go, Boss.” His glance at Li Wei was half-warning, half-pity. Rui Lang tossed a napkin onto the counter as they left. Only Mo Jin gave a small nod in Li Wei’s direction— acknowledgement, or maybe curiosity.

The door closed behind them, leaving Li Wei with the smell of roasted beans and adrenaline. He sank onto a stool, exhaling. Around him, the café resumed its hum, but the space they’d occupied felt heavier, charged.

Outside, the rain kept falling.

In the back seat of the waiting car, Han Shen muttered, “That kid’s got nerves.”

Rui Lang laughed. “Or none at all.”

Mo Jin finally looked up. “You’re smiling, Boss.”

Yichen adjusted his cuff. “He smelled like rain.”

They drove off into the night.

Li Wei locked the café alone after closing, stepping into the damp air. The streets gleamed under neon, puddles catching flashes of red and gold from distant signs. He pulled his jacket tighter, wondering why his chest still felt tight. Somewhere behind the sound of rain and traffic, a heartbeat he didn’t recognize echoed once, faint and certain, like a promise waiting to unfold.

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