THEIR WORTH...

Since eight in the morning, Zhan had been staring at his phone, waiting for a call that never came-not even a missed call, which he sometimes found when he wasn't paying attention.

He didn't know why he felt like he was expecting Yibo to call. Deep down, he kept telling himself that the constant phone calls were becoming exhausting, that he didn't even see the point anymore. Yibo still hadn't answered the questions that lingered in his mind, nor had Zhan been able to understand what Yibo truly wanted from him.

With the way things were going, it felt as if Yibo had completely forgotten about his situation, as if he no longer remembered the state in which he had found him or the turmoil that still followed him. Unless new evidence surfaced that could help him, Yibo seemed content to push everything aside and speak to him as though they had known each other forever-as if their meeting hadn't happened during one of the most chaotic moments of his life.

That was why Zhan always felt uneasy whenever they spoke on the phone. He found himself anxiously waiting for their conversations to end so he could finally breathe again. He had never been someone who enjoyed talking on the phone, unlike Min, who could stay on calls for hours-even overnight. So why was he feeling restless now that Yibo hadn't called him at the usual time?

After his shower, Zhan sat on the bed, rubbing lotion onto his skin. His gaze fell to his leg, where the doctor had removed most of the bandages the night before, leaving only a small strip of dressing. Even the swelling had started to go down. Over the past two days, he had felt his body recovering, and beyond that, he had to admit-he was comfortable here.

There were no conflicts, no hostility. Maa cared for him like her own son, and Guri filled the void Min had left in his life. In fact, she was even better than Min-always pulling him closer and making sure he wasn't left out, unlike Min, who only ever paid attention when she needed something from him.

"Zhan, you're already done? I left some lotion by the sink. Did you see it?" Maa walked in, holding the familiar tray that always carried his meals-whether breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Today, it was tea, pancake and a covered plate.

He quickly reached out to take it. "Yes, Maa, I saw it. Guri said I should use it first, right?"

"You'll apply it on the injury, but you need to remove the plaster first. I'll get another one from your uncle's room so you can cover it again after applying the lotion."

"Okay."

He adjusted the towel around his waist. It felt strange sitting like this, especially when someone else was in the room. At home, he always put on a shirt before walking out after a shower, so this wasn't something he was used to.

"The hairdresser will be coming later today. Did Guri tell you?"

He nodded. "Yeah, Maa, she mentioned it."

Zhao Min walked over to her wardrobe and opened it. She had stopped using this room altogether, leaving it for Zhan. Now, she only came in to grab her clothes.

"Oh, look at this! These are Fa-Lan's socks. She's been searching everywhere for them, and they were here all along. I swear, I don't know when she'll stop mixing up her things with mine."

Zhan chuckled as he reached for a neatly folded shirt that Guri had bought for him. For the past couple of days, he had only been wearing the same set of clothes, which was why he had asked Yibo to bring some of his own yesterday.

Out of nowhere, he heard Maa's voice.

"Zhan, hurry up and get ready. You need to go and greet your husband before he leaves today."

"Huh?"

He turned around so fast that he didn't even realize he had spoken. Maa's directness caught him completely off guard, and for a moment, he wasn't sure he had heard her correctly.

"They aren't leaving early today, so go and see your husband before he heads out. He should also see that your injury is healing." Maa repeated, just as Guri walked into the room, holding a beautifully wrapped box in her hands.

Without glancing at Zhan, Maa turned to Guri instead.

"Where have you been this early in the morning?"

"Sister, I had a package delivered from Beijing-some jewelry."

Maa shook her head.

"I don't understand you, Guri. There are plenty of stores selling jewelry in this city, yet you insist on ordering from somewhere else?"

Guri laughed as she walked over and sat on the bed in front of Zhan.

"Sis, these are high-quality pieces. And you know I only like unique designs from overseas..."

She turned to Zhan, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Here, take a look."

She carefully opened the box, pulling out a delicate, stunning necklace. Even though it was daytime, Zhan could swear he saw the chain glimmer under the light.

Without realizing it, he reached out and took it from her, completely forgetting what Maa had just told him.

"This is beautiful," he admitted, running his fingers over the fine details of the necklace.

"Of course! These suppliers always have the best pieces, which is why I ordered them ahead of time. The wrist chain I gave you before? I got it from them too. My best friend's wedding is coming up before the semester break, so I'm preparing in advance."

"Don't keep him sitting there, Guri," Maa said as she walked out of the room. "He has to go see his husband right now."

As soon as Maa was gone, Guri turned to him, eyes wide in surprise.

"Wait... seriously?"

▫️🔸🔹

A cool breeze drifted in from the balcony, sending shivers down Zhan's spine as he stepped into Yibo's room. Guri had accompanied him to the door, pointing out that this was Yibo's living space.

And, of course, before letting him leave, she had insisted on picking out his outfit. She had made him change from the first outfit he chose, swapping it for a cream-colored shirt and brown pants. On top of that, she had practically forced him to wear the new necklace she had just received.

Even Zhan himself, after putting it on, had stood in front of the mirror for a long time, staring at his reflection. He had no doubts-he had never owned anything as beautiful as this before.

Now, standing at Yibo's door, he could hear his own heart pounding in his chest.

When Maa told him to go and greet Yibo, she said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if it was simply the right thing to do. But Guri, on the other hand, treated it like a grand occasion. She went into a frenzy, picking out outfits for him, insisting that he had to look presentable since they hadn't seen each other in a while.

Zhan almost wanted to stop her and tell her the truth-explain the reality of his relationship with Yibo. But what was the point of saying anything when the truth wouldn't change a thing?

Even as Guri led him to the door, she reminded him not to forget his manners when greeting Yibo. She had no idea that Zhan was far more concerned about how Yibo would look at him in these clothes she had chosen. How would he interpret this? What would he think?

His heart pounded as he stood outside the door, taking in the familiar scent of Yibo's cologne that lingered in the air. The rich, musky fragrance filled his senses, and for a moment, he thought Yibo wasn't inside. He let out a relieved breath and reached for the door handle to close it quietly.

But that relief vanished in an instant.

Just as he was about to shut the door, another door opened from the inside, revealing Yibo stepping out of the bathroom.

He was wearing a dark green traditional robe, the fabric so rich and smooth that its softness was visible even from a distance. The deep color contrasted beautifully with his fair skin. His damp hair glistened under the soft lighting, a small brush in his hand as he ran it through the strands.

In that moment, his gaze met Zhan's.

For a brief second, Yibo froze, his brush pausing mid-stroke as he took in the sight before him.

Zhan stood at the door, hesitating, caught between stepping inside and turning back. The warm morning light mixed with the glow from the room's fixtures, illuminating every inch of him-from his face to the carefully chosen outfit Guri had made him wear.

His expression held a trace of surprise, lips slightly parted as if he hadn't expected to be seen like this.

Yibo found himself staring, trying to confirm whether this was truly the same Zhan he had last seen. The last time, he hadn't been dressed this well.

A dry feeling crept into Yibo's throat, forcing him to clear it before speaking.

"Come in already. Why are you just standing there?"

Zhan hesitated for a moment before finally stepping inside. The door clicked shut behind him. He barely made it two steps before stopping, his gaze lowered.

"Good morning," he said quietly, even offering a small bow.

Yibo's gaze lingered on him for a moment before responding.

"Morning," he said, stepping further into the room. He knew he should say more, so after a brief pause, he added, "So you've recovered, and you didn't bother telling me?"

Zhan lifted his head slightly, meeting his gaze.

"They just removed the bandages yesterday," he replied. "Maa told me to come and greet you."

Yibo nodded as if he hadn't already known. His lips curled slightly.

"And you look stunning," he remarked. "Doesn't seem like you were ever injured at all."

Zhan blinked at him, as if unsure whether he had heard correctly. Or perhaps he had, and he just didn't know how to react.

Something in the way Zhan looked at him stirred a feeling deep in Yibo's chest.

"I'm sorry-I mean, I should be saying, 'I wish you a fully recover soon,' right?" Yibo corrected himself with a small smirk.

Zhan nodded twice before quietly replying, "Yes."

"Can I see?"

Zhan's expression shifted slightly, his brows furrowing.

"Can I see how your injury is healing?" Yibo repeated.

Before Zhan could decide whether to allow it or refuse, Yibo had already closed the distance between them.

Without hesitation, he knelt in front of him, reaching for the fabric of Zhan's pants. Gently, he rolled up the hem, exposing the area where the injury had been.

The moment Yibo's fingers brushed against his skin, Zhan felt a shiver run through him. His body reacted before his mind did-he instinctively pulled back, making Yibo release the fabric.

"It's almost healed now," he started to say, but his words trailed off when Yibo suddenly took his right hand, guiding him to kneel.

The sound of the bracelet clinking caught Yibo's attention. His gaze dropped to Zhan's wrist. Without a second thought, he reached out, grabbed Zhan's left hand and traced his fingers over the bracelet, studying it closely.

Zhan's heartbeat pounded violently in his chest, louder than the chain's faint jingling.

The sound filled his ears, the room feeling like it was spinning around him.

And then, Yibo spoke.

What he said pulled Zhan out of the moment, yet at the same time, it sent him deeper into it-so deep that, for a second, he felt as if the entire world had shifted, leaving only the two of them standing there.

A wave of unease passed through his mind.

"Calm down, Zhan. I won't do anything to you. Even if I hadn't made that promise, I have no interest in you in that way. What happened between us was just a means to an end-to deal with the situation in front of us. That's all. I just want to make sure you're okay, nothing more."

Zhan stared at him with an expression of confusion, almost like someone struggling to grasp a concept. What was wrong with him? He needed to stop overthinking and take things at face value. Just as Yibo had said, he should have realized by now that Yibo wasn't the kind of person to take advantage of him. After all the time they had spent together-even before their marriage arrangement-Zhan should have understood that much. Holding onto these unnecessary thoughts would only make him look foolish.

Since Yibo had agreed to the terms he had set, he should have left the matter at that instead of letting it weigh on his mind. Whatever doubts his heart held about Yibo, they didn't matter anymore. There would be nothing tying them together once everything was over. The only role Yibo would play in his life was that of someone who had helped him, much like his Baba, He Jun had in the past. So the only thing Zhan should concern himself with was his recovery-just as Yibo had said-and when he could finally return home.

Yibo slowly released Zhan's wrist, his eyes lingering on the silver bracelet around it before he looked up again.

"When you put weight on your leg just now, did it still hurt?"

Zhan lowered his gaze and shook his head slightly.

"Try standing again."

Without a word, Zhan made an effort to rise and stood before Yibo.

Yibo placed his hand on Zhan's leg, right over the wound, and applied some pressure.

"Does it hurt?"

Zhan shook his head from where he stood above him, remaining silent. But Yibo wasn't convinced. His head was still lowered as he pressed the area with a little more force.

"And now?"

"A little," Zhan admitted, gripping the hem of his shirt.

Yibo straightened up, not looking at Zhan as he turned toward the wardrobe. His scent lingered in the air, filling Zhan's senses as he watched him move. Yibo pulled open the wardrobe, retrieving a sleek, medium-sized bag.

"It seems your injury still needs time to heal. Try walking around more instead of staying in one place all the time. Otherwise, it'll take longer to recover," Yibo advised while unzipping the bag.

Zhan nodded slightly, clutching the edge of his shirt as he watched Yibo rummage through some documents inside. Finally, Yibo pulled out a stack of stapled papers and walked back to where Zhan stood.

"I know you can read through this yourself," he said, handing the documents over. "These are all the findings I've gathered regarding your case. While we still don't have concrete proof about our suspicions involving the police, the officer working with me has done his best to compile as much information as possible. I didn't give them to you earlier because of your condition-and because I wasn't around either. But once you go through them, it should put your mind at ease."

He reached out and took the papers, his eyes scanning the writing on the first page.

"Thank you," Zhan murmured softly.

Yibo shoved both hands into his pockets, his gaze remaining fixed on Zhan.

"I should be the one thanking you-for keeping what's between us to yourself. I never told you that I didn't want the people in this house to know anything, yet you still didn't say a word to them. I really appreciate that."

Zhan nodded, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and the edges of the papers in his hands.

"You don't feel as lonely in this house anymore, do you?"

Zhan shook his head. "No. I enjoy being around them. They're kind people."

Yibo gave a small nod. "That's good. If everything goes as planned, this will all be over soon. Once I've gathered all the evidence I need, I'll take you home. No one will be able to accuse you of anything."

Zhan's head snapped up, eyes searching Yibo's face. Did that mean Peng wasn't dead? That he was still alive? Had he been wrong about everything? He wanted to ask, but instead, he pressed his lips together. The answer was probably somewhere in the documents Yibo had just handed him.

"Let's hope that happens."

"It will," Yibo replied firmly, still watching him. "Thank you for coming, Zhan. It's good to see you getting better. I promised to protect you and make sure you got home safely, and I intend to keep that promise. I don't want anything happening to you because of me."

"Nothing else will happen," Zhan said quietly.

"I hope so," Yibo agreed. Then, after a brief pause, he added, "I changed my number yesterday, which is why I didn't call you. But I'll reach out later from the new one."

Zhan simply nodded, saying nothing as he remained standing there.

Beside the bed where Yibo had taken out the documents, there was a framed photograph of his mother and Liu. They were on the bed, with Yibo between them, all three laughing. Yibo's gaze drifted to Liu's face, then back to Zhan, who stood before him. Something tugged at his heart, a feeling sinking deep into his core.

He took a slow step back, keeping his hands in his pockets.

"That's all. You can go now. Thank you."

Zhan lifted his eyes to him, hesitated for a moment, then said, "Take care. And... thank you."

With that, he turned and walked toward the door.

Yibo watched him the entire way, only calling out when Zhan reached the doorway.

"Zhan..."

Zhan turned to look at him.

"That bracelet suits you."

To Yibo's surprise, Zhan gave a small, fleeting smile. He didn't say anything, just opened the door and stepped out.

That smile struck Yibo straight in the heart.

It was the first time he had ever seen it on Zhan's face since meeting him.

Without thinking, he grabbed the photograph beside him, staring at Liu's familiar smile.

How could two people from entirely different times and places resemble each other so much?

Yibo exhaled deeply, rubbing his temple.

Ten seconds passed before his thoughts shifted back to everything on his plate. And just like that, a name surfaced in his mind-Guang.

Then, his brain recalled the unknown number that had called him yesterday, the one where no one had spoken.

Something clicked in his head.

Why hadn't he put that together sooner?

:-*:-*:-*:-*:-*

Guangzhou

"Why is this taking so long?" Wu Jing asked, her patience wearing thin as she sat across from a bulky Black American man. He wore only a tank top despite the blast of cold air from the AC filling the room.

The room was part of his house, where she had been waiting for nearly two hours. She had come to collect the results of the job she hired him for-tracing the number she had obtained yesterday. However, since her arrival, he had only informed her that the number had been turned off since last night. Because of that, he couldn't track the location directly and had to use alternative methods to pinpoint the last call's exact location.

As she sat there, she kept glancing around the cluttered room, wondering how anyone could possibly clean up such a mess. While waiting, she had made several calls-to her children, to acquaintances, and to relatives who had heard about her recent divorce.

It still amazed her how they all insisted on offering their condolences, as if her divorce were a tragedy. For her, it was nothing but a reason to celebrate.

Now tired of waiting, she raised her head and asked again.

The man shook his head and answered in his deep, gruff voice, "Just a little longer. I told you to be patient. But don't worry, you're about to get what you need."

Wu Jing didn't respond. She simply shifted in her seat, focusing on her phone while absentmindedly chewing gum.

As promised, just a few minutes later, the man lifted his head and looked at her.

"I'm done, ma'am. I found the exact address where the last call was made yesterday."

Without hesitation, she set her phone aside and stood up.

He turned the computer screen toward her, showing the map. Then he leaned back in his chair, reminding her that she still owed him the rest of his payment.

But at that moment, Wu Jing wasn't listening. Her heart pounded as she stared at the map, her eyes locked onto the red pin marking a specific location.

Shenzhen.

A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips as she repeated the name softly.

"Shenzhen..."

Not so far after all, Yibo.

🔸🔹▫️

Ping's Residence, Guangzhou

"Are you sure there's no additional information on him beyond this?"

For what felt like the hundredth time, Ping repeated the question as he meticulously combed through the file containing every detail they had gathered on Yibo.

Emmanuel, unfazed, shook his head. "No, sir. This is everything we managed to trace about his life-from his origins up to the last known details Shada provided."

Ping nodded and flipped open the first page of the report. His gaze lingered on the name of the city where Yibo had supposedly been raised after losing his family. The word Family was printed boldly across the document, yet it lacked specifics-no clear mention of who they were or what had happened to them.

But the name Hong Kong leaped out at him. Every time he read it, something in his mind stirred, dragging him back to an incident that had left a scar on his soul, one he would carry forever.

With a sharp exhale, he shut the page and continued skimming through the endless details. His mind was already calculating, filtering through everything he needed to pin Yibo down. The only thing that irritated him was how long it had taken his men to handle something so simple-something he hadn't even considered a challenge worth second-guessing.

From where he stood, Emmanuel adjusted his stance and cleared his throat.

"Sir, I think it's time for us to leave. The flight departs at three, and we should get to the airport now."

Ping nodded, his eyes dropping to the last recorded address tied to Yibo. He closed the file and rose to his feet. Emmanuel swiftly gathered the scattered documents from the desk, stacking them into a bag before following him out.

After arriving at the airport and completing all necessary check-ins, the private jet bound for Shenzhen took off at exactly 3:40 PM. Ping sat in silence as the aircraft soared through the sky, while his eight men-all seated with him-mentally prepared themselves.

And in their minds, only one thought repeated: whoever this Yibo was and whatever he thought he was holding onto, his time was up. If Ping himself had decided to step in, the game was already over.

At the front of the plane, by the window seat beside Ping, Wu Jing sat quietly, her face turned toward the view outside. But her eyes weren't really watching the clouds-her mind was elsewhere, carefully mapping out every step of her plan.

She shifted slightly and glanced at the older man adjusting his seat beside her before looking away again, her thoughts running fast.

This was only the beginning. Soon, Yibo would be right where she wanted him.

Zhanxianyibo💚❤️💛