Tonight was the last time.

The final gathering at this nightclub. Lin Ran didn’t know what he’d do next, but after quitting his job, a path would surely open up eventually. Before, he and Xu Zhi always drank in the cheapest bathroom stall here—quiet moments before heading home. Going home too early just left him hollow, trapped alone in a concrete cage.

This time, Lin Ran was treating. He ordered a dozen soda cocktails. He and Xu Zhi lazily played dice, watching the kaleidoscope of bodies in the dance pit. Occasionally, their eyes met. A flicker of daze. Then clinking glasses, more drinks.

Xu Zhi was in high spirits.

Dressed in a black strapless crop top, her long hair loose, white hot pants hugging her perky hips—she leaned slightly against Lin Ran, eyes bright and clear.

Like all chains had snapped. The world suddenly felt vivid, alive. She stole a glance at Lin Ran. *He’s spacing out again.*

She’d wanted to get him drunk tonight. She’d never seen him tipsy. Maybe he’d turn wild? *Really* wild?

Before she could speak, a figure slid into their view.

Xu Zhi’s brows furrowed faintly.

Qin You. Known here as "Young Master Qin." Second son of the Southern District’s Qin family. A spoiled rich kid. Unpredictable. Dangerous.

She knew him because he’d once offered to keep her. She’d refused politely. Back then, he’d been chasing another girl anyway—once he’d gotten her, Xu Zhi’s rejection didn’t matter. He’d let it go.

Lin Ran knew him too. Qin often bet on his fights. Won big—maybe a million or two. Though Lin never saw that money, Qin sometimes tossed him a couple packs of cigarettes.

They weren’t from the same world.

Both forced smiles as Qin approached, lazy and relaxed, a bottle of Macallan dangling from his hand. The crystal glinted under the lights.

Qin greeted them and slid onto the bench beside Lin Ran, setting the bottle down.

Lin Ran glanced at him, offered a cigarette.

"Smoke mine." Qin tossed a pack of rare cigarettes onto the table. Lin Ran murmured thanks, opened it, lit one for Qin, then himself.

Qin studied him.

"You two hooking up now?" Casual. Testing.

Xu Zhi was opening his bottle. She glanced at Lin Ran, ready to deny it—

"Yeah," Lin Ran said softly.

Xu Zhi froze. Swallowed her words.

"Oh? Bold move. I’d even asked Xu Zhi to consider me once." Qin’s voice dropped lower. Xu Zhi poured his drink. He took it, eyes lingering openly on her collarbone. "Last time was too abrupt. Xu Zhi… reconsider? A hundred grand. One month with me."

Her smile tightened.

She forced calm. "Young Master Qin jokes. I’m leaving town. Just quit today."

"I know. That’s why I came. Heard you were gone… and I’ve never even held your hand."

Qin’s glass was a quarter full. Xu Zhi’s half. He lifted his, clinked hers. She drank hers all at once—coughed from the burn.

"Think again? A hundred grand. Since you’re leaving… tonight with me. It’s yours."

Money most people earned in years.

A dream many girls would claw for.

Xu Zhi kept smiling. "No, no. Plenty prettier girls out there. Thank you though."

His words were an insult. But she’d heard stories. Once, a stranger fought Qin over a girl in a bar. Afterward, the guy knelt outside, hands severed, begging forgiveness. No one filmed it. No one called police. In the Southern District, the Qin and Lin families ruled like kings.

Lin Ran’s gaze flicked to Qin. Cold.

Qin finally turned. Slapped Lin Ran’s shoulder, grinning. "Bet on you today."

"How much lost?"

"Not much. Sixty grand."

"I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t beat him. You know—no one fixes fights at the Boss’s club."

"Of course I know. But I need to vent…" Qin leaned in. "How about you convince Xu Zhi to keep me company tonight?"

Lin Ran smiled faintly. "No."

"You’ve always been sensible, Lin Ran."

"Sensible has limits. Some lines you don’t cross."

"Real tough guy, huh?"

Qin’s eyes widened. He loomed closer. Lin Ran’s hand pressed lightly on Qin’s shoulder. He turned to Xu Zhi. "Weren’t you heading to the bathroom?"

"I—"

"Go." Lin Ran’s voice was quiet. Final.

Xu Zhi bit her lip hard. Stood. Walked toward the restroom. Qin didn’t stop her. Just laughed.

"Xu Zhi—if you don’t come back tonight… I’ll send you two hands tomorrow."

She stopped. Turned. Lips pressed white. Stared at Qin. Then, softly: "Ah… Lin Ran, you should go home. I’ve got plans tonight."

Qin burst out laughing.

Lin Ran stayed silent.

"You want my hands?" he asked.

"Guess not needed now. Xu Zhi’s sensible after all, right?" Qin chuckled. Amused.

Lin Ran breathed deep. Looked at Xu Zhi. "Go to the bathroom. We’ll talk when you’re back."

Their eyes locked. Serious. Unwavering.

She turned. Walked away.

………………………………

Qin patted Lin Ran’s shoulder. Pulled a small bag of pale powder from his pocket. "See? You *are* sensible."

He tipped it toward Xu Zhi’s glass.

Lin Ran caught his wrist. "What’s that?"

"Special stuff. Makes Xu Zhi spread her legs willingly. Wilder than you’ve ever seen. Wanna watch later?"

"You misunderstood me." Lin Ran paused. "You said you wanted my hands?"

Qin stiffened. Lin Ran’s grip was iron. The powder wouldn’t fall.

"Big talk." Qin’s breath hitched. Face flushed. Voice still arrogant.

"You’ve got nerve too." Lin Ran took Qin’s phone, freed his wrist. Dialed. The call connected in three seconds. He lifted the phone.

"Su Nisheng."

"Hmm? What? Calling your sister late… lonely? I’m sleepy. Want me to pant for you?"

"No. At a club. Someone wants to cut off my hands." Lin Ran shrugged.

"*What?!*" Su Nisheng shot upright in bed. Voice sharp. "Are you safe?"

"For now. Outside… less certain."

"Who did you piss off—"

"A spoiled rich kid named Qin You."

"Wait. Don’t move. I’m sending help. *Now.*"

"Okay." Lin Ran hung up. Stared at Qin.

After two seconds, he said quietly:

"You’re dead."

Qin flinched. That calm face unnerved him. Then he laughed—a loud, jarring sound.

"*I’m* dead?" He pointed at his own face.

"Yes."

"Entertaining. Sit here. Show me how you’ll kill me."

"Thirty seconds."

Lin Ran began counting down. Voice steady as a metronome.

"Twenty-five."

"Twenty."

"Qin made two calls. Twenty men swarmed from the dance floor, the upper levels. They encircled the table. Lin Ran kept counting.

At "six," Xu Zhi returned. Pushed through the crowd. Sat beside Lin Ran. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, whispered in her ear: "It’s okay."

He reached "three."

The club’s music died. Curses erupted—then choked off instantly.

A woman descended the stairs. Silver gown. A cigar between slender fingers. Smoke curling.

The crowd parted. Breath held.

Last time Silver Lady silenced the third floor’s music? Someone used banned substances there. She’d gouged out his eyes.

Now.

She walked toward their booth. Even Qin’s guards stepped aside. Trembling. Qin’s eyes bulged. He tried to sound respectful: "Boss—"

Silver Lady bent slightly. Blew cigar smoke toward his face—sweet-scented. Softly:

"Don’t move."

Qin froze.

Her hand seized his head. The burning cigar pressed toward his eye socket.