Měi Nán's panic escalated immediately. "WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT?!" He grabbed Tòumíng's arm, shaking him slightly. "Are you insane?! Actually insane?! He's going to come here and murder you! He's massive! He's violent! He's completely unhinged!"
"Yeah, but—"
"But WHAT?! What possible justification could you have for inviting a psychotic gang member to your apartment?!"
Tòumíng cut him off, his expression completely serious. "That was aura though, wasn't it?"
Měi Nán stopped mid-panic. Blinked. Processed what Tòumíng had just said.
"Aura..."
"Yeah. Like, that whole phone call. The 'pull up, bitch' energy. That was pretty sick, right?"
Měi Nán stared at him for a long, silent moment, cycling through several emotions, disbelief, anger, confusion, and something else that flickered across his face too quickly to identify. Finally, he snatched his phone back from Tòumíng's hand and gave him a small shove.
"You're lucky you're cute," he muttered, turning away and sitting heavily on the bed, head in his hands.
"Wait, you think I'm—"
"Don't. Just don't." Měi Nán's voice was muffled through his fingers. "I can't deal with your stupidity and your face at the same time. Pick one."
Tòumíng felt heat creep up his neck but pushed it aside. There were more important things to focus on. Like the violent gang member who was probably already on his way here.
"Stay on the bed," he said, walking toward his closet. "When Pàng Hǔ gets here, I'm handling it. Mono e mano. One on one. You just stay inside and let me deal with it."
"You're going to fight him." Měi Nán looked up, his expression flat. "You, who I met yesterday, are going to fight a three-hundred-pound gang enforcer who throws people through walls for a living."
"Yep."
"Because of aura."
"Also for combat experience. I need to level up my skills."
"I'm going to regret asking this, but what skills?"
"Long story. Just trust me. I can handle this."
Měi Nán opened his mouth to argue, saw Tòumíng's scarred torso again—fourteen bullet wounds, two stab wounds, all from less than twenty-four hours ago—and seemed to recalculate his objections.
"Fine. But when you get killed, I'm not explaining this to the police."
"Fair enough."
Tòumíng rifled through his closet, pushing aside designer hoodies and expensive shirts he'd bought on impulse. None of that felt right for a fight. He needed something that looked tough. Battle-ready. The kind of outfit that said "I'm ready to throw hands" without saying anything at all.
He settled on cargo shorts, practical, mobile, lots of pockets for no particular reason, and a white tank top that would show off his newly acquired abs and his impressive collection of scars. The visual would either intimidate Pàng Hǔ or make him angrier. Either way, it sent a message.
Tòumíng pulled on the outfit, checked himself in the bathroom mirror, and nodded with satisfaction. He looked like someone who'd survived multiple attempts on his life and come out stronger. Because he had.
"Very 'gym bro about to start something,'" Měi Nán observed from the bed. "Really leaning into the aesthetic."
"Presentation matters."
"In a fight?"
"Especially in a fight."
Ten minutes passed. Tòumíng stood by the door, listening for footsteps, for shouting, for any sign of approaching violence. Měi Nán sat on the bed, scrolling through his phone with forced casualness, though his leg bounced with nervous energy.
Then, from outside the building, a voice erupted with enough volume to wake the entire ground floor.
"MEI! MY LOVE! WHERE ARE YOU?!"
The voice was desperate, anguished, loud enough to echo off the surrounding buildings.
"I KNOW YOU'RE HERE! I WON'T LET THIS NEW MAN GET IN BETWEEN US! WE'RE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER! DESTINY! SOULMATES!"
Měi Nán's face went pale. "Oh god. He's here."
"Stay inside." Tòumíng cracked his knuckles, feeling the familiar rush of pre-fight adrenaline. The Suicidal Idiot title whispered encouragement, telling him this was a great idea, that fighting was always the answer.
"Tòumíng—"
"I got this."
He opened the door and stepped outside into the early morning light.
And immediately understood why Měi Nán had been so terrified.
Pàng Hǔ stood in the courtyard area outside Prefecture Zing Residence, and "big guy" didn't begin to cover it. He looked like he'd eaten Bob, the gang member from last night, and then eaten Bob's entire family for dessert.
Six foot six at minimum, possibly taller. Built like a refrigerator that had been given human form and told to lift weights. His arms were the size of Tòumíng's entire torso, muscles bulging under a tight black t-shirt that struggled to contain them. His chest was barrel-shaped, massive, the kind of proportions you only got from years of dedicated bodybuilding or genetic lottery winnings or both.
But it was the calves that really got Tòumíng's attention.
Holy shit, the calves.
They were enormous. Disproportionately massive. Each calf muscle looked like it had been inflated to twice normal size, diamond-shaped and striated with definition, visible even from twenty feet away. The kind of calves that suggested this man could kick through a concrete wall and still have enough force left over to kick through the wall behind it.
Pàng Hǔ's head snapped toward Tòumíng as he stepped out. His face was red, eyes bloodshot from crying or lack of sleep or pure rage. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, each one roughly the size of a dinner plate.
"You," Pàng Hǔ growled, his voice dropping to something primal and dangerous. "You're the bastard who answered Mei's phone."
Tòumíng's throat went dry. His confidence, so strong ten seconds ago, wavered significantly.
This wasn't like fighting Bob. Bob had been big, sure, but in a sort of normal, overfed way. This was different. This was a genuine physical specimen, a walking mass of muscle who probably benched cars for warm-up sets.
"Is it too late now to say sorry?" Tòumíng asked quietly, directing the question inward toward Cupid.
"WAY too late," Cupid replied, his voice tight with concern. "Like, astronomically too late. We're in 'reap what you sow' territory now."
"Fuck."
Pàng Hǔ took a step forward, the ground seeming to shake slightly under his weight. "Where. Is. Mei."
Tòumíng swallowed hard, trying to channel the same energy he'd had on the phone, trying to access that reckless confidence that had made challenging a giant seem like a good idea.
"Inside. Safe. Away from you."
"You think you can keep him from me?" Pàng Hǔ's laugh was bitter, manic. "You? Look at you. You're a fucking twig. I could snap you in half."
"You could try." Tòumíng's voice came out steadier than he felt. "But I'm not letting you near him. He said no. That means no. Time to move on, big guy."
"MOVE ON?!" Pàng Hǔ's voice rose to a roar. "HE'S MY EVERYTHING! MY REASON FOR LIVING! WE'RE DESTINED TO BE TOGETHER!"
"He's an escort you paid. That's not destiny. That's a transaction."
Wrong thing to say.
Pàng Hǔ charged.