Chapter ..13 Quiet Wounds
The café Lian Zihao chose was small and warm, tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop. The windows were fogged slightly, sunlight diffused into something gentle.
"This," Lian said proudly, pushing the door open, "is what I meant by cute."
Suo Ran looked around l wooden tables, mismatched cups, soft music.
"…It's not bad," he admitted.
Lian smirked. "High praise coming from you."
They sat by the window. Lian ordered for both of them without asking, earning a narrow-eyed look from Suo Ran.
"You just assume things?" Suo Ran asked.
"I read faces," Lian replied easily. "You look like someone who needs something warm and sweet."
Suo Ran didn't argue.
They talked about nothing important. Work complaints. Bad neighbors. The absurdity of mornings. It was light, easy, almost unfamiliar.
Normal.
Lian watched Suo Ran carefully, though.
The way he paused mid-sentence sometimes.
The way his gaze drifted, distracted.
"You're thinking about something," Lian said.
Suo Ran blinked. "Am I that obvious?"
"Yes."
Suo Ran hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Just… adjusting."
"To what?"
"People," Suo Ran replied.
Lian laughed softly. "Then you're doing fine."
For the first time in days, Suo Ran believed it
.
Elsewhere Off the Grid
Cai Lang didn't go where maps worked.
The meeting was brief. Silent. Efficient.
And wrong.
He hadn't expected resistance. He definitely hadn't expected betrayal.
By the time he left, blood soaked through the fabric at his side, dark and sticky beneath his coat. His expression never changed, but his steps were slower.
He disappeared before anyone could follow
.
Nightfall
Suo Ran returned late.
Later than he'd planned.
The apartment was dark when he stepped inside.
"Cai Lang?" he called softly.
No answer.
He kicked off his shoes, unease settling in his chest. Just as he turned toward the living room, the door opened behind him.
Cai Lang stepped inside.
His coat was half-open. His movements controlled but tight.
"You're late," Cai Lang said.
"So are you," Suo Ran replied automatically.
Then he saw it.
The blood.
"Cai Lang," Suo Ran breathed, rushing forward. "You're hurt."
"It's nothing," Cai Lang said immediately.
"That's blood," Suo Ran snapped. "You're injured."
He reached out.
Cai Lang caught his wrist mid-air.
The grip wasn't painful but final.
"Don't," Cai Lang said.
Suo Ran froze. "You're bleeding."
"I've handled worse."
"That doesn't mean"
"I said don't."
Silence fell between them.
Suo Ran's hand trembled in Cai Lang's grip.
"…Let me help," Suo Ran said quietly.
"Please."
For a moment, Cai Lang looked at him really looked.
Something almost broke through.
Then he released him.
"I don't need help," Cai Lang said, turning away. "Go to sleep."
Suo Ran stood there, helpless, watching Cai Lang disappear into the bedroom.
The door closed softly.
Too softly.
Later
Suo Ran lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
He replayed the moment over and over the blood, the refusal, the distance.
Why did it hurt more than fear?
Why did he care?
He turned onto his side, fists clenched.
Behind the closed door, Cai Lang sat on the edge of the bed, silently bandaging his wound.
His hands were steady.
His thoughts were not.