It was an ordinary call....the kind where you dial a number and it connects to the other person's phone. That was exactly how Fuyue tried to reach Peng. But from the very first tone, there was nothing. No ringing. No automated voice explaining the line was unavailable.
Nothing at all.
What Fuyue didn't know was that, at that very moment, the line he was trying to reach no longer existed in any functional sense. Peng himself was far away, in another part of the world, fully immersed in pushing forward his own plans. And by the time he return, the goal everyone else thought they were working toward might have already transformed into something entirely different.
****
The next day, Yibo met with the people Duan's friend had connected him with. The anxiety that had been tightening around his chest only eased once they began explaining everything in precise detail...how they would structure each step, how every outcome would be controlled.
Yibo sat quietly, listening as they laid everything out with professional confidence. They were no longer young men, but not yet old either...somewhere in between, seasoned by years of experience. They spoke without hesitation, outlining plans that were anything but simple, plans they had clearly executed many times before and had no intention of changing.
It wasn't surprising. Yibo had come to them with full awareness of what he was asking for. Still, an intense heat rose from his chest, and he kept drinking water to steady himself. He finished the two bottles he had brought from the car, stood up, and returned with three more.
At first they only watched him in silence, until one of them finally asked, "Are you alright?"
They reassured him that everything was covered...that they had people for every role required, connections for every possible situation. There would be no complications, they said. Everything was a matter of calculation. They handed him a document detailing the full cost.
Yibo stared at the figures, then looked up at them. But when his heart saw Zhan's image in his mind, he let out a short breath, nodded, and pushed the paper back toward them in agreement.
They parted with the understanding that everything would continue exactly as planned, with regular updates on their progress.
When Yibo later relayed everything to Duan, Duan could only shake his head at the amount involved. No matter how much he tried to steady himself, he still asked Yibo...once again...whether he truly believed this was better than changing his mind. He even said that if Zhan were anywhere else, away from Yufei's family, he would personally speak to his relatives and arrange a proper marriage for Yibo instead.
Yibo only smiled at everything Duan said, reassuring him that nothing would change. He wanted Duan to relax, to stop worrying, to return to being the Duan he knew...the one who teased him endlessly about marriage and couldn't wait to see him finally settle down. Even though Yibo understood that marriage was never simple and always carried multiple consequences, he still wanted Duan to believe in that happiness he spoke about so often.
It was Friday. Yibo returned home directly from the gym. He hadn't stepped into the hospital for two days. Since his upcoming trip to Macau, he had excused himself, claiming he was handling a personal matter. Other doctors had been assigned to cover his surgeries.
Even when he did pass through the hospital briefly, he didn't stay long. He glance toward the SRRI office, then turn away. He knew that if he went in, he would only see unfamiliar faces...people who could offer him nothing he needed.
Monday
That day was set for the final meeting with the officials coming from the ministry. Everyone was expected to be present, and after that, no one truly knew how things would turn out except for whatever decision the ministry reached.
And yet, at that moment, Yibo felt unexpectedly calm. There was no trace of anxiety in his chest...none of the unease that used to surface whenever he thought about the program coming to an end. About the day he would stop seeing Zhan.
After returning home from the gym, he drove into the compound, stepped out, locked the gate, and paused for a moment to look around. Dust had begun to settle across the yard. He genuinely missed Najashi. Najashi had told him his leg had healed, but Yibo knew that didn't necessarily mean he was ready to work again. Maybe he would eventually find someone else.
He went inside, pulled off his shirt, and dropped it on a chair in the living room along with his phones. Then he headed straight to the kitchen. He was hungry...he hadn't eaten anything since morning, only water.
Standing there, he looked around at what he had available. He had long abandoned cooking, but back when he was in school, he used to prepare two different meals in a single day. It was the nature of his studies that had forced him to learn how to cook on the spot. At first, food barely mattered to him...studying was all that existed, and he ate whatever was available. That changed after a serious illness he never wanted to experience again. That was when he realized neglecting himself came at a cost.
Once he committed to learning, he learned quickly. Cooking became second nature to him, and before long, he could make just about anything. It was because of that skill that people were often drawn to him...but he never let anyone close enough to truly enter his life.
He found some leftover pasta in one of the cupboards, pulled frozen peppers from the fridge, took out tomato paste, and grabbed onions stored near the window where air circulated freely. He picked up a bottle of oil, washed a pot, and got to work.
Within minutes, the kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of food. He took three bottles of water from the fridge, carried the meal to the living room, sat down on the carpet in front of the couch, and began to eat. About halfway through, his phone buzzed from the couch behind him. Without turning around, he reached for it and glanced at the screen.
Zhaan.
The name was saved just like that. A small, unconscious smile curved his lips before he declined the call. He took a sip of water, then immediately called back, lifting the phone to his ear.
After a few rings, Zhan answered.
"Hi."
Yibo talk first, he leaned back against the couch.
"Good afternoon."
Zhan's voice came through again...that familiar tone Yibo loved far more than he cared to admit. He set the fork aside, closed his eyes, and replied softly,
"Good afternoon. Are you okay, baby?"
"Yes," Zhan answered, then fell silent.
Yibo didn't speak either. It had just dawned on him...this was the first time he had ever called Zhan baby.
After a brief pause, Zhan spoke again.
"I called to thank you. I saw the call credit you sent last night. Thank you so much for taking care of me. May God reward you."
Yibo listened without responding, his eyes still closed. Time passed until he heard, "Hello?"
He smiled faintly and said,
"Be honest...did you call just to say thank you, or because you missed me?"
He opened his eyes as he continued,
"Missing someone isn't something to be ashamed of, Zhan. I know you missed me since we didn't talk yesterday. I'm sorry...I was sorting something out, that's why I didn't call. And the credit was so you could reach me if I didn't…"
"Sorting something? And you thought I didn't have credit to call you?" Zhan asked directly.
Yibo nodded to himself, adjusting his posture.
"Yes. I was writing something and got carried away. By the time I noticed, it was already late. I thought your phone wasn't credited, so I assumed that's why you didn't call." He was teasing him.
Zhan hummed in understanding.
"I do have credit to call anyone. But thank you for what you sent."
"And just to remind me," Yibo added lightly, "you won't let me to forget....tomorrow I'm coming to formally ask for your hand."
Zhan smiled, and Yibo could hear it in his ears.
"I actually wanted to ask...who are you coming with?"
Silence fell. Thoughts crowded Yibo's mind all at once, but before the pause grew heavy, he cleared his throat, sat up properly, and said,
"Who would you like me to come with?"
Zhan shook his head slightly, then took the chance to voice a question that had been bothering him since the day before...since Aunty Shui had visited and asked him something he himself had never truly considered.
"So… where exactly is he from? Which neighborhood does he live in? Has he told you who his parents are, or whether he has siblings?"
Zhan exhaled, realizing how strange it was that the thought had never crossed his own mind. Everything had happened so fast. In the middle of the day, Yibo confessed his intention to marry him, and just as quickly, Zhan had accepted....and even took the matter to Elder Uncle.
Now, hearing Yibo ask these questions, Zhan steadied his thoughts and replied carefully,
"You've never told me about the people in your life. I don't even know your family."
The words struck something deep inside Yibo all at once. His heart thudded hard against his chest, then his body went slack. If he had ever imagined a time when Zhan would ask him this question, it was not supposed to be now...not now at all, and certainly not this soon. He had assumed that whatever version of himself he presented to Zhan's family would be accepted without question, that things would simply continue forward without the need for repetition between just the two of them.
He nodded slowly, swallowing the tightness in his throat, then reached for the answer he had already prepared to give the next day.
"I live alone. I don't live with anyone, Zhan. I lost my parents a long time ago, and I don't have any close relatives. There are a few of my father's relatives around, but we're not close."
He chose the word lost carefully. That single word would anchor both their thoughts. What loss meant to him was not death...it was distance, years of separation...but he knew Zhan would interpret it differently, and that would allow everything to move forward smoothly.
So when Zhan began murmuring quiet RIP prayers...words whose weight Yibo felt deep in his chest...he didn't let them linger. He gently steered the conversation back.
"Tell me...who should I go with to see your uncles tomorrow?"
"Even just a friend," Zhan said after a brief pause. "It would be better if you went not alone."
Yibo nodded. That wasn't a problem at all. Whether it was one friend or ten, he knew arrangements would be made.
"Don't worry. I'll do that. Even if I have to gather the whole world, I'll do my best, Zhan."
He heard Zhan smile on the other end.
"It's good you said your best, because you might not even manage to find ten people."
"So I'm about to surprise you, then."
Zhan only laughed softly.
Yibo leaned back against the couch again, pleased that the conversation about his family had shifted away from Zhan's thoughts, and asked quietly,
"Where is your hand right now?"
"My hand?" Zhan asked, surprised.
"Yes. I love your hands, Zhan. I'm dying to hold it. I am eager to reach the day you become mine...the day I lace my fingers through yours and fill every space between them."
As heavy as the words were, a vivid image formed in Zhan's mind. He saw the day Yibo had picked him up in his car, remembered how Yibo's attention had fixed on his hand so intently. Something that had once puzzled him suddenly made sense. Slowly, Zhan lifted his hand and stared at it...just as Yibo spoke again, shattering his thoughts completely.
"It's the first thing I'll hold on your body, Zhan. The first thing I'll claim. I know I could do that even before marriage… but I want to wait until after."
⚡⚡⚡
Everything unfolded exactly as Yibo had hoped...and planned.
From the moment he opened his eyes at dawn on Saturday, the day that would mark the beginning of something monumental in his life, everything went smoothly. After getting dressed, he stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection, when a thought tried to intrude: So this is the day I'm going to formally ask for someone's hand in marriage.
It was something he had never imagined, never planned for. Just a year ago, he had sworn he would rather give his money away than ever find himself in this position.
And yet, nothing in the world had changed...and here he was, calm and steady.
He pushed the thought aside.
Before leaving, he called Zhan. They talked for a while, and Yibo noticed how much more relaxed Zhan sounded compared to before. Zhan described Elder Uncle's house again, giving directions and landmarks before they said goodbye.
Then Yibo called Duan, who repeated his advice...what to expect, how to act...just as he himself had been received in that same house months earlier.
And when Yibo finally stepped out, the first thing he did was stop to pick up a man he had never met before...someone who, on that very day and at that very moment, would become his companion in asking for Zhan's hand in marriage.
Before they arrived, the man told Yibo that his name was Momo.
They talked through everything again on the way to the house.
By the time they arrived, Uncle Elder and the others were already waiting. There were four of them in total: Uncle Elder himself, his younger brother Uncle Ruobing, another younger brother named Sanxing...who, at first glance, Yibo could tell was older than him or same age...and a close friend of Uncle Elder's, Mr. Baili. They were told that Mr. Baili was the one responsible for officially receiving anyone who came to ask for marriage in the family.
Yibo felt his hands grow completely cold as Momo explained everything in detail before Uncle Elder and the others. Even the breeze from the fan wasn't cool enough to explain it...it wasn't the air that chilled him, but the weight of the words he was hearing. He knew those words weren't entirely true, yet they were being spoken confidently in front of these men. From the moment he looked at them, he hadn't dared look again; their presence alone was imposing.
Still, the way Momo spoke...smooth, confident, laying out details Yibo himself hadn't even known...was convincing enough that even someone unfamiliar with the situation would have believed him. How much more Uncle Elder and the others, who clearly hoped for nothing to go wrong.
So when they accepted the explanation and agreed without resistance, Yibo was stunned. From their expressions alone, he could tell they had all consented. Even though they said they would conduct background checks on what they had been told, they still asked Yibo whether he was truly ready for marriage. Momo immediately assured them that if permission were granted that very moment, they were ready to present the bride price.
The meeting ended on a light note, filled with mutual understanding and warmth. Sanxing walked them to the car, continuing their discussion about Yibo's work.
Before Yibo even got home, he took out his phone and sent Zhan a message...just three words, the same words that had been echoing in his mind since he left the house:
"You're mine now."
****
Africa, Nigeria
Apapa, Lagos
08:00 PM
Inside a long shipping container bustling with movement, the lighting was poor. Only three bulbs were installed from one end to the other, and even those barely worked. If you weren't standing directly under them, you could hardly see what was in your own hand. At the far end of the container, where even the weak bulbs didn't reach, Peng sat on a chair, listening to what sounded like a heated argument among the men standing before him....spoken in a language he didn't understand.
At that moment, Peng had only one hope: that he would be able to secure the cocaine he had come all the way to this country to buy without the price being raised beyond what he could afford.
Standing around listening to stories of hardship he encounter from China to Nigeria was a waste of time. Although he had arrived in Lagos by plane, the difficulty he endured just to reach Apapa...and finally meet these men...was something he didn't even like to think about, let alone describe.
This trip had been his decision. He had chosen to come in person to collect the second shipment of cocaine he intended to sell, following the first successful deal.
Malo had only heard about it and Peng hadn't fully trusted the process with Malo after seeing how large the profits were. After Malo struggled to make contact with these people, Peng decided it was better to come himself...without knowing the trouble that awaited him.
Now that he was here, the sellers had already quoted three different prices at different times. Every new discussion brought a different figure. They had finally settled on one price...for now...but the heated bargaining and the unfamiliar language made Peng uneasy. All he could do was hope nothing went wrong.
His phone suddenly rang. He was briefly surprised, knowing that very few people had access to that number. But when he saw the name Han...Uncle Elder's son...his tension eased. Han was his age; they had grown up together ever since Peng returned to Uncle Elder's house. They were close, which was why Han had this number.
He hesitated, then answered, seeing that the men in front of him had no intention of ending their argument anytime soon.
After exchanging greetings, Han asked a question Peng had never imagined hearing...especially not at this moment.
"Peng, didn't you tell me a few days ago that you were planning to ask for Zhan's hand in marriage? Nainai's grandson?"
Peng straightened up in his seat and adjusted his posture.
"Yes, that's right."
"Good," Han said, sounding pleased.
"I just got home, and Mom told me something. She said that today, Uncle and the others officially received someone who came to ask for Zhan's hand in marriage. And honestly… it surprised me."
Han didn't finish his sentence.
A sound...raw, violent, and utterly unfamiliar course...burst from Peng's throat without warning. In all his life, Han had never heard anything like it from him before.