CHAPTER 5- Between Smoke and Sunlight

Chapter 5 – Between Smoke and Sunlight

The sun rose late in Haicheng, spilling pale gold over the horizon and softening the edges of the city’s steel towers. Inside the Black Dragon compound, everything felt unnaturally still. The faint hum of air vents, the low sound of footsteps echoing down the marble hall — it was the kind of quiet that only existed before the world woke up.

Li Wei stood by the window of his guest room, clutching a mug of tea gone cold. His reflection in the glass looked out of place — loose gray hoodie, messy hair, eyes that hadn’t slept much. The mansion behind him was all shadow and glass, vast and cold, like something out of another world. He’d spent the night thinking, not about danger or debts, but about the way Zhou Yichen had looked at him the night before — calm, unreadable, as if he saw through every wall Li Wei built around himself.

He missed the noise of the university. The chatter of classmates, the taste of cafeteria noodles, Chen Luo’s constant nagging about grades. It had only been a few days since he stumbled into this underworld, but already the normal world felt distant, like a dream slipping away.

He found Zhou Yichen in the kitchen, as unexpected as always. The man wore black from head to toe — black coat, black gloves, hair slicked back with quiet precision. He looked like sin wrapped in discipline, a figure carved from the same shadow that haunted the city’s alleys.

Yichen was watching the coffee machine like it owed him money. On the counter, Mo Jin was typing furiously on a tablet while balancing a steaming pan of dumplings in one hand, and Han Shen was sharpening a knife with alarming serenity.

“Morning,” Li Wei greeted softly, stepping in. The kitchen smelled like burnt toast and caffeine.

Yichen’s gaze lifted, cool and assessing. “You’re up early.”

Li Wei hesitated, heart thudding. This was the moment. “There’s something I need to ask.”

The man arched an eyebrow but didn’t speak.

Li Wei drew a breath and said quietly, “I need to go back to college.”

The words hung between them. For a second, even the knife stopped scraping.

Zhou Yichen didn’t answer immediately. He leaned back against the counter, expression unreadable, eyes fixed on the steam rising from his cup. “You think you can walk out of here like nothing happened?” His tone wasn’t harsh, just low — like the sound of thunder far away.

“I’m not trying to forget,” Li Wei said quickly. “But my life can’t stop because of this. I have classes. Exams. A scholarship I can’t lose.” His fingers tightened on the mug. “And there’s someone waiting for me there who still thinks I’m just working late at the library.”

A long silence stretched. Yichen studied him, eyes darker than the coffee in his cup. “You talk about that life like it still belongs to you.”

“Maybe it does,” Li Wei replied softly. “Maybe I just want to hold onto what’s left of it.” He paused, searching for the right words. “You told me that people who forget where they came from get lost down here.”

The echo of that sentence made Yichen’s chest ache in a place he hadn’t touched in years. It was something his sister used to say when he was young — back before the streets swallowed them both. For a moment, he could almost hear her voice in the boy’s tone, soft but sure.

He turned away, exhaling. “You and your logic,” he muttered.

Li Wei smiled a little, uncertain but hopeful. “So… does that mean yes?”

Zhou Yichen glanced at him again. The morning light from the tall window traced the edges of Li Wei’s hair, gold against pale skin. Too innocent for this place. Too bright. And yet, Yichen couldn’t bring himself to say no.

“Fine,” he said finally. “But you’re not going alone.”

He looked past Li Wei, toward the two men in the room. “Han Shen. Mo Jin. You’ll follow him. Quietly.”

Han Shen straightened, sliding his knife into its sheath. Tall, composed, with sharp eyes that gave nothing away, he nodded once. “Understood.”

Mo Jin looked up from his tablet, a dumpling halfway to his mouth. “Wait, you mean, like—actually follow him? Because I have surveillance drones for that.”

Yichen’s glare could have cut through glass. Mo Jin muttered, “Okay, fine, legs it is.”

Li Wei frowned. “That’s… not necessary. I can handle myself.”

“Can you?” Yichen’s voice was softer now, but the weight in it made Li Wei’s heart stutter. “You couldn’t even handle breakfast in this house without starting a war.”

As if on cue, the toaster sparked and a thin curl of smoke rose behind him. Mo Jin coughed guiltily. Han Shen smirked.

Li Wei crossed his arms. “If this is how gangsters make breakfast, no wonder everyone’s scared of you.”

Han Shen wiped the blade clean and said in a perfectly serious tone, “Fear is seasoning.”

Yichen almost choked on his coffee. Li Wei just blinked at him. “Seasoning?! You’re all insane.”

Yichen’s voice dropped lower, teasing but unreadable. “You talk too much for someone who trembles when I look at him.”

Li Wei froze, pulse quickening. “Maybe I’m just not used to someone looking at me that long,” he managed, cheeks heating despite himself.

Something flickered in Yichen’s eyes — amusement, maybe something softer — before he turned away. “Eat before you leave,” he said. “And don’t be late for class.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Don’t call me that,” Yichen said sharply, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

Li Wei grinned. “Then what should I call you?”

Yichen didn’t answer. He just sipped his coffee, pretending not to care.

By late morning, Li Wei was back among crowds and sunlight. The streets of Haicheng felt almost too bright after the dim calm of the mansion. Vendors shouted, scooters whirred by, and for the first time in days, he felt air that wasn’t heavy with tension.

Behind him, Han Shen and Mo Jin followed at a distance, dressed down but impossible to miss. Han Shen walked like a predator forced into patience, hands in his coat pockets, eyes scanning constantly. Mo Jin, on the other hand, tripped over a curb because he was too busy calibrating a wrist device.

Li Wei glanced back. Subtle, they were not.

At the university gate, a familiar voice called out. “Li Wei!”

He turned just in time to see Chen Luo sprinting toward him, breathless, eyes wide with relief. “You’re alive!” he said, gripping Li Wei’s shoulders like a man reunited with a ghost. “I was about to file a missing person report!”

Li Wei laughed awkwardly. “It wasn’t that serious.”

“Not that serious?! You vanished for a week! And who are those—” Chen Luo stopped mid-sentence as his eyes fell on Han Shen and Mo Jin. “Li Wei. Why do you have two… assassins… following you?”

“They’re not assassins,” Li Wei said too quickly.

Han Shen, perfectly calm, said, “Technically, I am.”

Mo Jin added without looking up, “I’m more of a hacker-slash-bomb-specialist, really.”

Li Wei nearly choked. “He’s joking! They’re from work!”

Chen Luo blinked. “What kind of job needs a bomb specialist?”

Before Li Wei could answer, Han Shen stepped closer. “We’re here to protect him,” he said quietly, voice smooth and low, almost soothing despite the words. “That’s all you need to know.”

Chen Luo opened his mouth to argue, but the moment he met Han Shen’s eyes — calm, sharp, impossibly steady — the words vanished. His heartbeat didn’t get the memo, though; it stuttered painfully in his chest.

Han Shen tilted his head slightly. “Something wrong?”

Chen Luo’s throat went dry. “No,” he said too fast. “You just—uh—remind me of someone I don’t know yet.”

Han Shen’s lips curved, the faintest suggestion of a smile. “Interesting line.”

Mo Jin nudged Han Shen. “You’re flirting on duty again.”

Han Shen didn’t deny it.

Li Wei groaned and dragged Chen Luo toward the library before the world could explode again. But even as they walked, Chen Luo glanced back once, catching Han Shen’s gaze from across the courtyard. It wasn’t just intimidation anymore. It was curiosity — dangerous, magnetic curiosity.

That night, Haicheng shimmered under silver light.

At the Black Dragon mansion, Zhou Yichen stood by the tall windows of his penthouse. The city stretched before him, endless and restless. He held a cigarette between his fingers, the ember glowing faintly in the dark.

He didn’t smoke often, only when the silence grew too deep. Tonight it was unbearable. Every corner of the house felt louder without Li Wei’s clumsy footsteps. Every shadow reminded him of the boy’s wide, uncertain smile.

Across the city, in his tiny dorm room, Li Wei leaned against the balcony rail, watching the same skyline. He should’ve felt free, but something tugged at him — a presence that hadn’t left even after he walked away.

Maybe monsters aren’t born, he thought. Maybe they’re just lonely.

And somewhere high above the city, Zhou Yichen exhaled smoke into the cold air and thought, That boy laughs like sunlight in a place that forgot warmth.

Neither of them knew that, even apart, their worlds had already begun to entwine — like two threads tightening slowly, drawn by something neither could name.

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