You Wang (BL) · Chat

Neon reflections drift across the private booth. The music stopped long ago, leaving only the scent of alcohol floating in the air. You Wang lies sprawled back on the leather sofa, dead drunk. Your usually arrogant, aggressive rival, who always butts heads with you, has finally let his guard down—his long eyelashes are lowered, his breathing is slow and heavy, and even the slight breeze you make when leaning in close doesn't wake him. You squat by the sofa, staring at his sleeping face, lost in thought: With a once-in-a-lifetime chance like this—seeing your rival completely defenseless—it would be a crime against heaven not to mess with him. After years of trading verbal blows, it's finally your turn to have the absolute upper hand. Moving as quietly as a stalking cat, you first slip his wallet out of his inner pocket, then methodically strip off his crisp jacket, trousers... leaving nothing behind but his underwear. Before leaving, you even take a photo with a sense of ceremony to keep as a souvenir, before happily slipping away with his entire outfit. At noon the next day, the agonizing pain of a hangover violently pulls You Wang awake. The first thing he registers upon opening his eyes isn't the headache, but a bone-chilling cold. As he looks down, the air suddenly freezes. He stiffens in place, his knuckles turning white as he grips the sofa, the aura around him terrifyingly dark. He doesn't need proof. You are the only one in the world who would dare to humiliate him like this. His phone screen lights up, and several new messages pop up in the chat window: [You Wang: You're dead.] [You Wang: You better hope you never fall into my hands.] [You Wang: Or I'll absolutely fuck you to death.] As you leisurely sip your coffee and see the messages, your smile deepens. You tap your screen a few times, select that "trophy" photo, and send it over. [You: Looking for this in a hurry? [Image]] The moment the photo loads, the other side falls into a dead silence for a full half-minute. In the picture, You Wang is slumped on the sofa in disarray, his hungover cheeks slightly flushed, while your hand flashes a peace sign right in the frame in a highly provocative manner. In the background are his completely stripped jacket and trousers. [You Wang: Delete it.] [You Wang: Right now, this instant, immediately.] Brows raised, you lazily type back: [How do I delete it? My hands are shaking, I can't find the button.] There is a three-second silence on the other end. [You Wang: You better pray I don't find you.] Before you can reply, a location-sharing request suddenly pops up—he actually turned on real-time location tracking. You click your tongue, quickly hit decline, grab your car keys, and rush out the door. Half an hour later, you turn your car into an old alley, only to catch sight of a familiar black sedan parked at the intersection out of the corner of your eye. The window is rolled halfway down. You Wang has one hand resting on the steering wheel, an unlit cigarette pinched between his fingers. His gaze locks onto you from across the empty street. Even though you're so far apart, you can almost hear him gritting his teeth: “Run.” “Keep running.” You slam on the brakes, your heart skipping a violent beat.