Night had settled deep, the air thick with a faint, salty chill.

For days now, Jiang Zhilin had felt that something was off.

At first, he chalked it up to his imagination.
Shen Yanxing was never talkative—being a little aloof was nothing unusual.

But this time… it felt different.

—Shen Yanxing was keeping his distance on purpose.

Whether it was the half-hearted replies
or the subtle ways he avoided touch,
every detail made it painfully clear:
the man was pulling away.

If it were just work, or a shift in mood, he could have explained it away.
But the moment Jiang noticed even the unconscious gestures shrinking back from him,
he knew—this wasn’t coincidence.

They still met, still touched,
still spent their nights together.
Yet something beneath the surface had changed—
a quiet fracture widening in the dark.

He could have ignored it, pretended not to see,
waited for things to settle on their own.

But that had never been his way.

That night, Jiang Zhilin headed to DEEP.
He planned to find an excuse to pull Shen out,
somewhere quiet—somewhere they could finally talk.

But the moment he stepped into the bar,
his gaze fell on a group of unfamiliar men near the counter—
far too conspicuous to ignore.

Unlike the other patrons drinking and laughing,
these people sat rigidly upright,
as if they were watching something.

Stranger still, they showed no interest in anyone else.
Their attention was fixed solely on the bar.

Jiang didn’t approach.
Instead, he chose a corner with a clear view,
ordered a drink,
and watched in silence.

He lifted his glass, swirling the liquid as if idly passing time—
but his ears were tuned sharply to the space around him.

Even with the club music pounding through the walls,
their body language,
their occasional hushed exchanges,
still drifted into his awareness.

“Word is, they’ve started rooting out the rat.
You’ve heard, haven’t you?”

“Someone’s been moving a little too much.
Maybe they think they can get away with it?”

A glance passed between them—
loaded, meaningful.

Jiang noticed that when the topic shifted to
“knowing when to behave,”
their voices dipped a fraction quieter—
yet their eyes flicked toward the bar again.

A warning.

This wasn’t simple internal vigilance.
They were waiting for someone specific to hear it.

Their words were meant for someone.

What were they hinting at?

Jiang’s brows drew together ever so slightly.

And over by the bar—

Shen Yanxing stood behind the counter,
tilted slightly as he poured a drink,
expression calm and unreadable,
as if those words had nothing to do with him.

But Jiang Zhilin noticed it—
the faint tightening in Shen’s grip,
the glass giving a subtle tremor between his fingers.

When the group finished speaking,
he lifted the drink with steady, unhurried movements,
taking a slow sip
as though he hadn’t heard a thing.

No reaction.
No question.
Not even the slightest change in his face.

Only the tightening of his fingers betrayed him.

That kind of indifference—
was far too deliberate.

He heard them.
He was simply pretending he didn’t.

Jiang’s gaze darkened.

The person they were warning… was him?

After some time, Shen Yanxing finally wrapped up his shift behind the bar
and headed toward the back room to take a break.

Seeing the moment, Jiang Zhilin followed.

“You’ve been… off lately.”

“You’re overthinking.”

“Really? Then why don’t you even want to touch me?”

Shen paused mid-step, then let out a soft, amused breath.

“Officer Jiang, since when were you this sensitive?”

“Cut it out.”

Jiang stepped closer,
pressing into his personal space.

“Say it. What’s going on with you these past few days?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Jiang’s tone dipped, gaze sharpening.

“Those people… were interesting.”

A flicker crossed Shen’s eyes—gone in an instant.
Then he smiled.

“Oh?”

“The way they talked—it was like they were waiting for someone to react.”

“But if you really were one of the organization’s core members,
they wouldn’t pull something like that, would they?”

Jiang lifted his glass, took a slow sip,
fingers tapping lightly against the table, voice calm.

“Or… is your position actually not that solid?”

The words weren’t harsh,
almost like an idle speculation—
yet laced with unmistakable probing.

Shen Yanxing’s smile remained faint,
but something subtle rippled beneath the calm of his eyes.

“You really do like jumping to conclusions.”

His tone stayed even,
as though none of this had anything to do with him at all.

Jiang Zhilin didn’t answer.
He only looked at him—waiting, watching for whatever might come next.

And that was when a quiet doubt began to shake loose inside him—

If Shen really were a core member of the organization,
those people wouldn’t have tested him in that way.
Did I get it wrong?
Or… did I miss something important?

The moment the thought surfaced,
a dull frustration twisted in his chest.

Then it hit him:
this agitation wasn’t only about Shen’s identity.

—it was about how Shen was treating him.

The distance these past few days,
the coldness,
the silence…

Was it really just because of the environment he lived in?

Or… was he deliberately pulling away?

The idea crashed into him without warning,
and Jiang Zhilin felt his emotions slip out of control.

“You’re not… getting tired of me, are you?”

The moment the words dropped,
the air tightened—heavy and still.

Shen Yanxing didn’t answer right away.
He only lifted his gaze slightly,
dark eyes unreadable in the dim light.

But his fingers—
they curled in, almost imperceptibly.

He was holding something back.

“…What did you just say?”

His voice was low,
as though restraining something sharp beneath it.

“I said—are you…”

Jiang Zhilin dragged out the words on purpose,
his tone edged with probing mockery.

“…starting to get tired of me?”

Shen’s breath faltered.
The knuckles gripping the edge of the table turned stark white.

His heartbeat thundered in his chest,
blood rushing hot and fast,
a surge of something dangerously close to breaking loose
spreading through his limbs.

Days of self-control and distance—
all of it began to crack in that instant.

He thought he could keep suppressing it.
But this man still dared to test him?

His breathing grew heavier than before,
and the emotion in his eyes took on a faint, dangerous tint.

“…Jiang Zhilin.”

His voice was low—
carrying the weight of a warning long suppressed.

“Are you truly unafraid of dying,
or are you deliberately testing how long I can tolerate you?”

For the first time, unmistakable danger flashed in his eyes.

Jiang Zhilin’s body stiffened for a moment,
yet he still let out a short laugh.

“So you’re admitting it?”

Shen Yanxing’s pupils tightened,
a darkness rising in his gaze, nearly spilling over.

In that instant, he fought the urge to act on the spot.

Fingers curled so hard they trembled—
and in the next instant,

a hand shot out, clamping around Jiang Zhilin’s wrist.

The grip sank deep into his skin,
leaving no room to break free.

He nearly slammed him against the wall,
the impact thudding hard enough to make Jiang Zhilin frown.
This force was nothing like his usual restraint.

The breath brushing close was hurried and unstable,
like an outburst after being pushed to the edge.

“And you still dare to ask
whether I’d ever get tired of you?”

The words came out low and hoarse,
tinged with something unwilling—
and possessive.

Jiang Zhilin opened his mouth instinctively,
wanting to say something.

“I—”

The sentence was cut off.

Shen Yanxing’s hand dragged down along his waistline,
rough enough to feel like he meant to tear him apart.

Heat closed in fast—
leaving no space to dodge.

Teeth bit down hard on his lower lip,
hot breaths tangled with stifled gasps,
like a beast caged too long,
finally ripping at the bars.

The world tilted—
shadows swayed—
and Jiang Zhilin’s steps were forced to follow.
The dim bar lights shattered into broken shapes along the floor.

By the time he realized something was wrong,
he was no longer where he had been.

All noise behind them faded, piece by piece—
and the instant the door lock clicked shut—

only the ruins of a broken cage remained.