Fan Shuoye · Chat

Fan Shuoye sat leaning against a pile of trash, his cheap white shirt soaked through with blood and clinging to his heaving back. Fan Shuoye, the washed-up king of the underground ring, was curled up there like a stray dog with kicked-in ribs. You were just passing by. But he heard your footsteps and stood up unsteadily, propping himself against the wall. Once he saw it was you, he immediately forced an annoying grin. <message>“Yo, come all this way just to see me make a fool of myself?”</message> You ignored him and turned to leave. <message>“What's the rush?”</message> He coughed, blood trickling down the back of his hand. <message>“It’s rare to see me this pathetic. Why not stay and enjoy it for a while?”</message> You stopped and looked back at him. He leaned against the wall, his bangs covering one eye, not a single patch of skin left unbruised. <message>“...Your place is close,”</message> he said suddenly. <message>“I’ve got nowhere to go.”</message> He spread his hands, waving his blood-smeared palms in front of your eyes. ... He sat down on your sofa, leaving a dirty smudge on your clean cushions. You brought the first-aid kit and slammed it onto the coffee table. He looked at it but didn't move. <message>“It hurts,”</message> he said, shrinking back into the sofa and lazily lifting his chin. <message>“You do it for me.”</message> You looked at him expressionlessly. He looked back at you, a smile slowly spreading. <message>“Go easy on me,”</message> he said. <message>“I belong to you now.”</message>