Đông Anh jolted, shoving Dung off him, then shot a look at his sister—who had leapt up in shock.
"What the hell were you two just doing?" Ms. Tư demanded.
Dung replied calmly, then gently closed the door. He looked straight at Ms. Tư, his eyes firm:
"If you want to quarrel, save it for morning. Right now I only came to check on Út—nothing more. Alright?"
His terms hung in the air. Seeing no reply from her, Dung took it as consent. He turned to Đông Anh, scanning him head to toe: his sleeves and hands were still smeared with blood. Dung led him into the bathroom.
"Let me take care of you."
Once again, the sister had to watch a strange intimacy unfold: Dung lathering Đông Anh's hands with soap, rubbing gently, rinsing each finger with care under the faucet. When he was done, he eyed Đông Anh's shirt.
"Take it off!"
"Huh?" Đông Anh stared warily.
Without repeating himself, Dung began unbuttoning the shirt.
"Hey Dung!"
"Leave this shirt to me. Don't let anyone else see it, and don't keep it in the room. It's stained with blood."
Đông Anh stared at the dried brown stains, then acquiesced, letting Dung take off his shirt to expose his chest.
"Wait here—I'll get you something clean." Dung said.
From outside, Ms. Tư felt herself growing madder as she watched Dung brazenly open her brother's wardrobe, inspecting and selecting clothes before finally pulling out a tank top and slipping it over Đông Anh's shoulders. Unable to bear it any longer, she stormed into the bathroom.
"Why are you two acting like some kind of sick perverts?"
"Harsh words, Ms. Tư. I'm just doing my job, looking after Út—exactly as Mr. Liễu ordered," Dung said smoothly.
"Looking after? I've never seen a low-life servant dare care for his master beyond his place like this. Looks more like you're—"
"Like… what?" Dung challenged, waiting for Ms. Tư to finish her sentence.
"Tư…" Đông Anh started, but Dung cut him off.
"Funny—I figured you'd barge in here and chew me out for dragging Út into a den of whores. Who'd have guessed you'd try instead to pin some sick, twisted charge on me. Út, you see how your sister keeps tormenting me!"
The words stuck in her throat—without proof, she had nothing to strike back with. So she switched targets.
"Then you, Út—what the hell were you mixed up in, covered in blood like that?"
"I…"
"Don't tell me you tangled with politics."
"No, I just… saved a dying man."
"Saved a dying man? Don't tell me you saved one of those outlaws!"
"I didn't know who he was."
"You didn't know and you still interfered?" She hit her brother hard. "Are you brain-dead? Or do you want to drag this whole family down with you?"
Her blows came sharper, harsher—until Dung stepped in.
"Enough, Ms. Tư. Nothing serious came of it, so why—"
"Oh, now you're defending him? Then the biggest fault is yours, Dung. You dragged him to that filthy district. You didn't guard him, so he played hero. If I hadn't shown up in time—"
"…I still would've handled it clean," Dung cut in, voice like steel. "Face it—your family name doesn't scare patrolmen on the street. But the word of Dung Tây? That carries weight. That's why your father put Út in my care. I have full authority to be at his side every hour. So maybe stop meddling in our business."
"Don't forget—you're nothing but a pimp!" she spat.
Rage flared hot in Dung's eyes. He grabbed her by the wrist, dragged her out of the room, and snapped:
"It's late. Not proper for you to linger in your brother's bedroom."
The door slammed in her face.
A dreadful silence swallowed the room, with only two men left inside. Cutting through it was Dung's furious glare. The demon he kept hidden had now come out—he stalked straight toward Đông Anh, growling:
"If Út were one of my boys, I'd have beaten you bloody by now."
"I… I'm sorry…"
"I don't put much stock in empty apologies, sir."
"I… it's just… I saw someone about to die, with a child in his arms, so I—"
"A child too? And what kind of favor did you do that the patrol couldn't find a trace? Tell me—every—last—detail!" Dung bit off each word.
"I saw a man wounded in the belly, bleeding bad, so I tried to bandage him…"
Dung's eyes bored into him, as if searching for any flicker of a lie.
"…luckily, right after that, Thiên Thanh showed up—she lived nearby—so she let the wounded man into her house," Đông Anh went on.
"Thiên Thanh?"
"Yes. If not for her, he'd have had no chance to live."
"And after that?"
"After that… she told me to go back, so I left."
"And the child?" Dung pressed, frowning.
"Uh… the child was taken away already."
"By who?"
"By… someone I don't know."
For reasons he couldn't explain, Đông Anh chose to hide Hiền's appearance.
"So someone showed up just to take the kid and left his friend bleeding on the ground?"
Đông Anh kept his face blank, then finally nodded. When he caught the mocking smile tugging at Dung's lips, dread crept in—had he said the wrong thing?
"Why are you smiling like that?"
"Take your pants off."
"What?"
"Back at the boys' home, any brat who disobeyed got the strap."
"So what? Dung, this isn't the time for jokes."
"No joke. If you know you did wrong, you take the punishment. If you won't—then I guess I've no business being your babysitter anymore."
"Dung!"
They locked eyes, neither willing to yield.
"Then—excuse me, I'll be going," Dung said sternly, turning toward the door.
"Dung, I was wrong. I'm sorry!"
Eyes squeezed shut, Đông Anh yanked down his zipper and let his trousers fall. Dung glanced back, face unreadable.
"Underwear too."
"You—"
One look at that cold face told Đông Anh he'd lost this fight completely. He turned toward the wall, resigned, stripping off the last scrap of cloth from his lower body. His ears burned red as he muttered: "Sick bastard…"
"Lie face down on the bed," Dung ordered.
Dung strode to the bed, tugging the hem of the tank top down as if it could hide what lay bare. Lying ass-up on the bed was never a comfortable posture, yet Đông Anh could sense Dung was unhurriedly stepping closer, slowly resting one leg on the mattress. He pulled the shirt covering Đông Anh's snow-white buttock higher, then pressed his burning hand onto it.
"You're lucky, Út, there's no rattan cane here, so I can only discipline you with this hand." He pinched his fingers lightly into Đông Anh's flesh. "You must remember, NEVER DISOBEY ME!"
Dung raised his hand and struck Đông Anh's buttock with a hard smack. The sharp cracking sound against the skin was jarring.
"Never walk out on me."
The second strike left a red mark on Đông Anh's skin. Dung was truly hitting him, not holding back on the one he loved. The third strike came down so hard that Đông Anh cried out in pain. He twisted around, looking at Dung with a furious expression.
"Does it hurt, Út? That's nothing compared to what I suffered earlier. The moment I walked into the room and didn't see you, the moment I looked down the street and heard the sound of guns being cocked…" Dung's voice trembled.
"Dung…"
Đông Anh turned to face Dung only to be pressed back down onto the bed by him. His hand quickly unzipped his own trousers.
"Tonight, you have to remember this pain, to understand how terrifyingly frantic I was when you disobeyed me."
"Dung,…" Đông Anh grew fearful as he felt a familiar hardness touching his buttock. "Don't, it hurts! You can't be so rash… ahhh…"
Đông Anh screamed as Dung used all his strength to thrust into him without any foreplay or preparation.
"Dung, stop, it hurts… Dung!"
Despite Đông Anh's cries, Dung still furiously drove deep thrusts into him. Unable to resist, Đông Anh could only groan and writhe, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. Dung wiped the tears from his lover's face and whispered pleadingly:
"Please, don't ever vanish from me again. I was so scared!"
With that, Dung buried his face into the hollow of Đông Anh's neck, almost on the verge of tears. Đông Anh turned over, lifted Dung's face, and met his eyes:
"I'm sorry. I didn't think about how you'd feel."
Dung smiled lightly and placed a passionate kiss on Đông Anh's tear-stained eyes. The kiss casually traveled to his nose, his lips, his white, fragrant neck, and his sensitive nipples. As for Đông Anh, he ran his hand over Dung's back, passionately kneading and squeezing.
"Um…" The groan that escaped made Dung smile with delight.
"You're in a fit of passion, aren't you?" Dung lowered his tongue to touch Đông Anh's lower abdomen, teasing him.
"Looks like your mind is still too clear!" Saying this, Đông Anh flipped Dung onto his back beneath him.
"Út is going crazy!"
Dung smiled, letting Đông Anh's frenzy torture his body.
"His rhythm is so unpredictable," Dung thought to himself before a powerful thrust made all thoughts vanish. "Uhm… Damn it!" Dung swore in pleasure.
In the midst of their bliss, Dung's eyes accidentally fixated on the necklace around Đông Anh's neck. Every time the angel wings pendant bobbed into view, Dung felt a sting of annoyance. Dung reached out, trying to catch the wings swaying with each thrust. Then, suddenly, he snatched the necklace off Đông Anh's neck.
"Dung?"
"If you don't have wings, you can't fly away from me."
"You're starting to lose your mind!" Đông Anh said, reaching for the necklace.
"Hurry, make me lose my mind again. Hurry up… faster!"
The fever of passion, once ignited, blazed wildly. Đông Anh instantly forgot his wings and plunged into the wondrous worldly pleasure.