The next morning, Wenhao walked into the dining hall with a plan.
He was going to push Zhenlong. Push him hard. Push him until the calm mask cracked and the real monster came out. He wanted to see what happened when he crossed the line. He wanted to know how far he could go before the beating started.
Because if he knew the limit, he could work around it.
Zhenlong was already at the table, reading a newspaper like he was some ordinary businessman and not a crime lord who kept people in basements.
Wenhao sat down across from him and didn't say good morning.
Zhenlong didn't look up. "You're early."
"I couldn't sleep," Wenhao said flatly. "Too busy dreaming about escaping."
Zhenlong turned a page. "Dreams are nice. Reality is different."
Wenhao grabbed a piece of bread and took a bite. Then he made a face and dropped it back on the plate. "This bread is stale."
Zhenlong looked at the bread. Then at Wenhao. "It's fresh."
"It's stale."
"It's not stale."
Wenhao pushed the plate away. "Well, it tastes stale. Maybe your servants are trying to poison me. You should fire them."
"They're loyal."
"Loyal to you. Not to me. That's the problem."
Zhenlong went back to his newspaper. "Eat your breakfast."
Wenhao picked up the bread again and took another bite. He chewed slowly and deliberately and then made another face. "Nope. Still stale. I'm not eating this. Get me something else."
Zhenlong's jaw tightened but his voice was calm. "There's nothing else."
"Nothing else?" Wenhao's voice rose. "You run a criminal empire and you can't afford a decent breakfast? What kind of mafia boss are you? I've seen better hospitality at a gas station."
Zhenlong finally looked up and his black eyes were flat. "You're not a guest. You're a hostage. Hostages don't get menus."
Wenhao crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Then I'm not eating."
"Fine."
"Fine? That's it? You're not going to threaten me?"
Zhenlong turned another page. "Why would I threaten you over food. If you're hungry, you'll eat. If you're not, you won't. Your choice."
Wenhao blinked. That wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to get a reaction. Anger. A slammed fist. Something.
He tried again.
"The eggs are cold," he said, pointing at the plate. "I like my eggs hot. These are practically ice."
Zhenlong didn't look up. "They were hot ten minutes ago. You were late."
"I was not late. I was doing my morning routine. Which I wouldn't have to do if you let me go home. Because I have servants who prepare everything for me."
"Noted."
Wenhao stared at him. "Noted? That's all you have to say?"
"I'm not going to argue with you about some stupid routine."
"Why not? Are you afraid you'll lose?"
Zhenlong's mouth twitched but his eyes stayed flat. "I'm not afraid of anything. Especially not a nineteen-year-old with a skincare routine."
Wenhao's face went red. "My skincare routine is very important. It's the only thing keeping me from looking like a corpse after two days in your basement."
"You look fine."
"I look terrible. I look like I've been through a war. Which I have. Your war. That you started."
Zhenlong finally put down his newspaper and looked at Wenhao fully. His face was unreadable. "Are you done?"
"No. I'm not done. I'm never done. I'm going to complain about everything. The food. The bed. The temperature. The lighting. The body wash. Especially the body wash. What kind of monster uses lavender body wash? Lavender is for people who have given up on life."
"The servants chose it."
"Fire them."
"Fire them?"
"Yes. Fire them. All of them. And hire new ones who understand that body wash should smell like something that doesn't make me want to cry."
Zhenlong leaned back in his chair and looked at Wenhao with something that might have been amusement. "You realize you're a hostage. You don't have hiring authority."
"I should have hiring authority. I'm a very important hostage. Without me, your plan falls apart. So I should at least get a say in the body wash situation."
"And if I say no?"
Wenhao opened his mouth and then closed it and then opened it again. He hadn't prepared for a calm no. He had prepared for anger. For threats. For violence.
But Zhenlong just sat there looking at him like he was watching a particularly entertaining show.
"This is ridiculous," Wenhao finally said. "You're supposed to be scary. You're supposed to yell at me. You're supposed to threaten to cut off my fingers. Not sit there and let me complain about lavender."
Zhenlong picked up his tea and took a sip. "Would you prefer I threaten to cut off your fingers?"
"Yes. No. I don't know. Just do something. You're making me feel like I'm talking to a wall."
"I'm a very good listener."
"You're a terrible listener. You're just ignoring me."
"I'm not ignoring you. I'm letting you vent. It's healthy."
Wenhao stared at him. "Are you... are you giving me therapy right now? Are you my kidnapper or my life coach?"
Zhenlong's mouth twitched again. "I can be both."
Wenhao slammed his hands on the table. "Stop being calm. Stop being reasonable. I'm trying to make you mad. Why aren't you getting mad?"
Zhenlong set down his tea and looked at Wenhao with those black eyes. "I don't know it's fun actually."
Wenhao's face went through several expressions. Confusion. Frustration. And then something that looked almost like respect.
"Fine," Wenhao said and he picked up the bread and took a bite. "But I'm still not eating the eggs. They're cold and I hate cold eggs."
Zhenlong picked up his newspaper. "Suit yourself."
The rest of breakfast passed in silence. Wenhao ate the bread and drank the tea and glared at Zhenlong the whole time.
Zhenlong didn't look up once.
Later that night, Wenhao was lying on the couch in the living room. His head was hanging off the edge and his legs were draped over the armrest and he was staring at the ceiling upside down.
He was so bored he could scream.
The servants had stopped reacting to his complaints. The guards had stopped responding to his questions. Even the walls seemed to be ignoring him.
He was just starting to contemplate how many times he could bang his head against the floor before someone noticed when the door opened.
Zhenlong walked in from outside. His coat was still on and his hair was slightly windswept and he looked like he had just returned from somewhere important.
He stopped when he saw Wenhao's position on the couch.
A chuckle escaped him. "Looks like someone is bored."
Wenhao rolled his eyes without moving his head. "What gave it away? The floor? The ceiling? The existential despair?"
"All of the above."
Wenhao sighed dramatically and let his arms flop to the floor. "There's nothing to do here. No mobile. No books. No games. Just walls and walls and more walls. I've counted the tiles on the ceiling seventeen times. Seventeen. I know there are two hundred and forty-three of them. Do you know how sad that is?"
Zhenlong walked closer and looked down at him. "Two hundred and forty-three?"
"Yes. Two hundred and forty-three. And one of them has a crack that looks like a duck. I've named the duck. His name is Gerald. Gerald is my only friend here."
Zhenlong's eyebrow rose. "You named a crack in the ceiling."
"Gerald and I have been through a lot together. He listens. He doesn't judge. He's a better companion than anyone in this house."
"I'm offended."
"You should be."
Zhenlong looked at Wenhao for a long moment. His expression was unreadable but there was something in his eyes that seemed almost soft.
Then he said, "Wanna go out for a walk?"
Wenhao sat up so fast that his head spun and he nearly fell off the couch. "What?"
"A walk. Outside. You clearly need fresh air and I need to stretch my legs."
Wenhao's mind raced. A walk. Outside. The first chance to see where he actually was. The first chance to map the area. The first chance to find a way out.
"Yes," he said quickly. "Yes. I want to go for a walk. Absolutely. Let's go. Right now."
Zhenlong's eyes narrowed. "That was too fast."
"Fast? What do you mean fast? I'm just excited. I've been inside for days. I'm going crazy. I'll do anything to get out of this building."
Zhenlong studied him for a moment. Then he shrugged. "Fine. But stay close. And don't try anything stupid."
"Me? Stupid? Never."
"I don't believe you."
"That's fair."
They walked out of the mansion and into the cool night air. The garden was dark and quiet and the only light came from the moon and the distant glow of the house behind them.
Wenhao looked around carefully. Trees. Lots of trees. A path that wound through the garden and disappeared into the forest. No fences. No walls. Just trees.
He filed that information away.
They walked in silence for a while. Wenhao kept his eyes moving, scanning everything. The path. The trees. The distance to the main road.
And then Zhenlong stopped walking.
"Go get me that stick," he said, pointing at a fallen branch on the ground.
Wenhao frowned. "Why should I do that? Go get it yourself."
Zhenlong looked at him for a long moment. His eyes were cold and his face was hard and something in his expression made Wenhao's stomach flip.
"Fine," Wenhao muttered. "Whatever."
He walked over and picked up the stick and brought it back and handed it to Zhenlong.
Zhenlong took it and immediately dropped it.
"Oh," Zhenlong said, his voice flat. "It slipped."
Wenhao stared at him. "It slipped?"
"Yes. Pick it up again."
Wenhao clenched his jaw and picked up the stick and handed it back.
Zhenlong took it and dropped it again.
"Oh," he said. "Slipped again."
"You're doing this on purpose."
"I'm doing what on purpose?"
Wenhao's hands curled into fists. "You're making me pick up the stick and then dropping it because you think it's funny."
"Interesting theory. Pick it up."
"I'm not picking it up again."
"Pick it up."
"No."
Zhenlong's eyes stayed flat. "Pick it up."
Wenhao picked it up. His face was red and his jaw was tight and his whole body was vibrating with anger.
He handed it back.
Zhenlong took it and dropped it.
"Slipped."
Wenhao picked it up.
Zhenlong dropped it.
"Slipped."
Wenhao picked it up.
Zhenlong dropped it.
"Slipped."
Wenhao picked it up.
Zhenlong dropped it.
"Slipped."
Wenhao threw the stick on the ground and stomped on it and screamed at the top of his lungs.
"THAT'S IT. I'M DONE. I'M NOT PICKING UP ANOTHER STICK. YOU CAN PICK IT UP YOURSELF. FUCK OFF! I DON'T CARE. I'M GOING BACK INSIDE."
He turned around and stormed back toward the mansion. His footsteps were heavy and angry and his fists were swinging at his sides.
Behind him, Zhenlong watched him go.
And then he laughed.
A real laugh. Loud and full and warm. It echoed through the trees.
Wenhao heard it and his face got even redder and he walked faster.
Zhenlong followed slowly, still chuckling to himself.
When he got inside, he found Wenhao sitting on the couch with his arms crossed and his face like thunder.
"Are you happy?" Wenhao snapped. "You made me pick up the same stick seven times. Seven. That's not funny."
"It was very funny."
"It was not funny. It was stupid. You're stupid."
"I'm a very smart man."
"You're an idiot. A rich idiot with too much time on his hands."
Zhenlong was still smiling and it looked strange on his face. Like a muscle that hadn't been used in years.
"I'll make it up to you," Zhenlong said and he snapped his fingers at a servant. "Bring the ice cream I brought"
Wenhao's eyes lit up despite himself. "Ice cream?"
"Strawberry. A bird told me"
Wenhao's mouth opened and closed and he couldn't find any words.
The servant came back with a bowl of strawberry ice cream and set it in front of Wenhao.
Wenhao stared at it for a moment. Then he looked at Zhenlong.
"How did you know I liked strawberry?"
Zhenlong shrugged.
Wenhao didn't know what to say to that so he grabbed the bowl and took a huge bite and the cold sweetness melted on his tongue and for a moment he almost felt human again.
He looked at Zhenlong and his face softened for just a second.
Then he held up his middle finger.
"Fuck off," he said.
And he walked away with his bowl and left Zhenlong standing in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets and a small smile on his face.
Hua Cheng appeared from the shadows, his arms crossed and his expression incredulous.
"Zhenlong," he said slowly. "You really lost your damn mind. You need to go get some help. Professional help. The kind that comes with a padded room."
Zhenlong turned to look at him and his smirk was back. "You have to deal with it. Can't do anything about it."
And he walked away.
Hua Cheng stood in the empty room and stared at the door and shook his head.
"This is how empires fall," he muttered to himself. "Not because of enemies. But because of heart"