Lightning shook the earth, and the wind and rain raged fiercely outside the abandoned building.
The long-forgotten structure stood like a skeleton, its hollowed-out frame of steel and concrete stubbornly piercing the stormy sky. Inside, the building was divided into two fierce battlegrounds—one above, one below.
Without hesitation, Chen Zemian leapt over the railing and pushed through a group of bodyguards, charging directly upstairs in pursuit of Guan Yu. Behind him, Chen Qingyu fought his way forward, clearing obstacles with determined precision, following closely to cover him.
Amidst the chaos, the dull, rhythmic sound of physical contact echoed through the empty corridor—like a drumbeat urging the march forward, each strike striking Chen Zemian’s heart with a tangible weight.
From a purely rational perspective, Chen Zemian believed that his father could handle those enemies with ease. Yet, emotionally, he couldn’t suppress the gnawing concern for Chen Qingyu’s safety. Every nerve in his body was tense, alert to the slightest danger.
Nevertheless, despite his worries, he didn’t hesitate or slow down. He understood what his father wanted—what they both shared in that moment. Their beliefs and goals aligned perfectly: to bring Guan Yu to justice, no matter what it took.
Guan Yu, clutching a gun, ran ahead. Though his accuracy was uncertain in the darkness, Chen Zemian kept his guard up, eyes fixed on the figure fleeing before him.
He bent slightly and propelled himself up the stairs with a swift, practiced motion. The weak light filtering through the broken windows illuminated Guan Yu’s back, making him a shadowy silhouette against the storm outside. The wind and rain battered the building relentlessly, pouring in through shattered glass and gaps in the walls. Large puddles gathered in the corners, making the already dim corridor slick and treacherous.
His shoe scraped along the mottled steps, leaving faint watermarks behind.
Due to the building’s peculiar design—used for some secret purpose—the soundproofing layers between floors played a crucial role. As they ascended, the cacophony from downstairs gradually faded, replaced by an eerie silence. It was as if they were stepping into a forbidden place, isolated from the world, where only their pursuit existed—just him and Guan Yu, locked in a relentless chase along the spiraling staircase.
Suddenly, a faint wail of sirens drifted through the broken windows.
The distant wail of police cars, with their flashing red and blue lights, cut through the darkness like lightning—dazzling and blinding in their intensity.
Chen Zemian’s heart lifted.
Yes! The police are finally here!
Though his father was once a policeman, Chen Zemian wasn’t sure whether the rebellious streak from his undercover days was still deeply ingrained or if he’d returned from some clandestine training in the past twenty years. Either way, his father’s strength was… formidable—almost intimidating.
And who else would dare single-handedly clear out an entire building without knowing the enemy’s full strength?
This was his father.
If it had been anyone else, Chen Zemian would have already called the police long ago.
This swift dispatch was like a shot of adrenaline—an instant surge that fired up his resolve. He quickened his pace.
Guan Yu in front of him suddenly seemed like a frightened bird. When he heard the sirens, his whole body trembled—dazed, dizzy, on the verge of collapse.
The howling wind whipped past, and time seemed to reverse. Everything around him blurred, overlapping with memories from twenty years ago.
He glanced back at Chen Zemian, who was closing in on him, then sharply turned right again. With a quick, forceful kick, he knocked open a fire door and slipped out of the stairwell.
Meanwhile, Fu Guanlan and other police officers had rushed into the building, launching a frantic search.
The communication hadn’t been broken, but the chaos on the other end of the line was unexpected. Suddenly, the two sides were fighting fiercely, a clash of steel and shouts that no one dared to interrupt—fearful that Chen Zemian and Chen Qingyu might be distracted or injured in the crossfire.
Lu Zhuonian had already stepped into the stairwell, striding quickly upward.
The sounds of fighting grew louder—a faint, rhythmic clash echoing from above.
Lightning flashed across the sky, briefly illuminating the melee below.
The scattered bodyguards lay sprawled on the ground. A figure resembling Chen Zemian was turned with his back to Lu Zhuonian. Despite being surrounded by enemies, he fought with a fierce, unwavering resolve.
Suddenly, an enemy behind him raised a fire extinguisher, ready to strike from behind.
Lu Zhuonian’s pupils contracted sharply. “Be careful!”
Without hesitation, he lunged forward, instinctively shielding his neck with one hand and his shoulder with the other, pulling the figure back into his embrace as they retreated swiftly.
The moment he wrapped his arm around the other’s shoulder, he sensed something was wrong. His mind raced—he didn’t have time for doubts. Inertia carried him, and he spun around.
Thunder roared overhead.
He raised his leg and delivered a powerful kick, sending the attacker flying. Simultaneously, he used his shoulder to deflect the falling fire extinguisher.
A deafening muffled sound exploded in his ears.
Another flash of lightning lit up the scene—illuminating a handsome but unfamiliar face in his arms.
Lu Zhuonian froze.
“…”
Chen Qingyu looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise. “Brother, are you acting in a TV show?” he asked, incredulous. “I’m fighting, and you’re just spinning around holding me.”
Lu Zhuonian released him, brushing off the dust. “Someone’s attacking. Be careful,” he said calmly.
Chen Qingyu raised an eyebrow, puzzled. “Do you know who I am?”
Lu Zhuonian nodded slightly. “I do. You’re Chen Zemian’s father.”
Chen Qingyu looked somewhat confused, and before he could respond, he caught a faint breeze in his ears. Without turning his head, he swung his stick to knock down an approaching enemy.
Amid the shouts of pain and chaos, Chen Qingyu asked, “Who is Chen Zemian?”
Lu Zhuonian hurried up the stairs. “The boy you were with just now.”
Suddenly, realization dawned on Chen Qingyu. “Then… who are you?”
Lu Zhuonian paused, then turned around and said plainly, “I am also your son.”
Chen Qingyu stared, bewildered. The words echoed in his mind—son?
He wasn’t very familiar with the son he’d just heard about, and now—another? This was too strange.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Chen Qingyu’s real son was chasing someone, unaware that Lu Zhuonian had secretly slipped out for him.
Chen Zemian sprinted out of the stairwell, the long corridor stretching endlessly before him, lined with rotting doors, their damp, moldy smell thick in the air.
Guan Yu was gone, vanished into the shadows—no one knew where he was hiding.
Chen Zemian halted for a moment, pressing his back against the wall, vigilantly scanning his surroundings.
The wide-open windows on the north and south sides created fierce convection currents. The wind howled like a beast, tearing through the building with increasing violence, as if eager to drag everything into an abyss of darkness.
Rain hammered the walls, making a rustling, chaotic symphony intertwined with the thunder rolling outside.
Chen Zemian took a deep breath, focusing all his senses, listening carefully for Guan Yu’s whereabouts.
But the sound of rapid footsteps above him betrayed an ambush.
Suddenly, a loud ‘crash’ erupted.
Someone had stepped on a loose board, leaping down from the beam with the sound of rushing wind.
The wooden wall above him collapsed rapidly—debris of plaster, beams, and decorative panels crashing down in a thunderous shower toward Chen Zemian.
He cursed softly.
The weight, over a hundred pounds, combined with the force of the fall, was impossible to underestimate. Both men tumbled to the ground together, locked in a fierce, primal struggle—claws and teeth, like two crocodiles entangled in a brutal fight, rolling amid the dust and debris.
Mid-fight, Guan Yu suddenly raised his hand and rubbed something in his palm against Chen Zemian’s face.
Chen Zemian instinctively shut his eyes. “What is it?” he demanded.
Guan Yu’s face twisted into a sinister grin. He spat out two words, “Cat hair.”
Chen Zemian couldn’t open his eyes. In the chaos, his elbow struck the other’s chest hard, causing him to bend his knees and kick out instinctively.
Guan Yu felt a jolt of pain, and in that moment, he couldn’t help but relax his grip.
Seizing the opportunity, Chen Zemian swiftly took hold of Guan Yu’s wrist, supporting and twisting it. With a quick movement, he flipped the man onto the ground, the muffled sound of his head hitting the floor echoing in the dimness.
Suddenly, a flash of lightning tore through the darkness, casting a purple-blue electric light that illuminated Guan Yu’s twisted face, contorted in pain.
This was too much to bear. He never imagined that Chen Zemian possessed such formidable fighting skills. Fear washed over Guan Yu as he stared at Chen Zemian in horror. The blurred face before him gradually overlapped with Chen Qingyu’s—an eerie, haunting resemblance.
Without giving his opponent a moment to react, Chen Zemian exploited Guan Yu’s distraction. While Guan Yu’s eyes darted elsewhere, Chen Zemian twisted his wrist and pressed him down with calculated force.
Amid sharp gasps, the outcome was sealed. Chen Zemian’s eyebrows furrowed with cold resolve. In one swift motion, he turned his umbrella into a sharp sword, pressing it steadily against Guan Yu’s throat.
The surroundings were in chaos—dust billowed and debris scattered everywhere.
Chen Zemian’s throat itched, and he couldn’t help but cough, choking on the dust that filled the air.
Guan Yu seized a split second of opportunity. He lunged forward, knocking Chen Zemian aside, and desperately fished out his pistol. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
A gunshot shattered the silence!
Chen Zemian rolled onto the ground just in time—the bullet grazed his arm and flew past him.
Guan Yu staggered to his feet, pistol still in hand, and pointed it at Chen Zemian. “Let me go. I won’t kill you.”
Chen Zemian coughed twice, slowly retreating with measured steps.
The two stared at each other in tense silence, neither daring to move again.
Guan Yu hesitated—then, without a word, he turned and fled. Yet, at that very moment, Chen Zemian pounced like a starving tiger. Guan Yu, caught off guard by Chen Zemian’s desperation, spun around and pressed the gun’s muzzle against Chen Zemian’s waist.
In a swift, practiced motion, Chen Zemian twisted Guan Yu’s wrist downward with force, causing him pain. The pistol slipped from Guan Yu’s grasp, clattering to the ground.
Without missing a beat, Chen Zemian caught the pistol with his backhand, engaged the safety, loaded the gun neatly, and aimed it steadily at Guan Yu’s forehead.
Guan Yu’s face paled; cold sweat dripped down his temples.
Chen Zemian’s eyes gleamed like a blade—sharp, relentless. “Do you honestly think you can win a fight with a gun?” he asked, voice icy.
Guan Yu pursed his lips, silent.
Holding the gun against Guan Yu’s forehead with one hand, Chen Zemian reached into his sweatshirt pocket with the other. His big pocket, always a blessing in disguise—capable of holding hands, tools, or even a mobile phone amid chaos—did not let him down. The phone remained securely in place despite the frantic struggle.
He raised the phone, voice steady. “Are you still listening? I’ve got Guan Yu.”
Simultaneously, Fu Guanlan and Lu Zhuonian’s voices crackled through the walkie-talkie. “Report your location!” “Where are you?”
Chen Zemian turned on his flashlight, shining it around the corridor. “Fifteenth floor, in the corridor. I… go!”
Guan Yu, sure that Chen Zemian wouldn’t shoot, struggled violently. But before he could do anything else, Chen Zemian backhanded the butt of the gun, striking Guan Yu’s forehead and knocking him unconscious.
His face was covered in cat hair, and his eyes and nose itched unbearably.
Damn Guan Yu!
When Lu Zhuonian, Chen Qingyu, and Fu Guanlan arrived, they saw Guan Yu lying on the ground, his life hanging in the balance. Meanwhile, Chen Zemian sat on the side, wiping tears with trembling hands.
Fu Guanlan’s expression was tense but controlled. “It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s dead — it’s okay,” he said, voice steadier than expected.
On the other end of the headset, the command center erupted into chaos.
“Who’s dead?” “Is anyone dead?” “Fu Guanlan, speak clearly!” “Did you manage to rescue him?” “Start CPR now!” “Call 120!” “Who’s dead?!” “Fu Guanlan, answer!”
After checking Guan Yu’s pulse, Fu Guanlan exhaled with relief. “No one is dead.”
Meanwhile, the headset buzzed with frantic exchanges—family members’ voices mingling with urgent commands, filling the air with tension and concern.
Fu Guanlan silently took out handcuffs, securing Guan Yu’s wrists.
Chen Zemian handed the pistol back to Chen Qingyu. “Dad, your gun. I got it back for you.”
Chen Qingyu didn’t take the gun. Instead, he looked him over, eyes thoughtful. “Are you allergic?”
Chen Zemian sniffed and cursed, “Guan Yu rubbed cat hair on my face. My eyes are itchy, and my nose too.”
“Don’t rub it,” Lu Zhuonian advised calmly. “The more you rub, the worse it gets. I have anti-allergic medicine and eye drops in my car.”
Since knowing Chen Zemian’s allergies, Lu Zhuonian kept these supplies at home and in his car year-round—taking care of him in his own way.
That night, after all the twists and turns, Chen Zemian felt utterly exhausted. His mind and body remained tense, refusing to relax until he saw Lu Zhuonian.
Leaning against the wall, his head tilted, he muttered and complained, “It takes fifteen floors to go down.”
Lu Zhuonian smiled softly. “We can dispatch a helicopter to pick you up.”
Chen Zemian’s eyes widened slightly; just as he was about to reply, his gaze drifted instinctively to Chen Qingyu, who stood at the corridor entrance, arms crossed, watching silently in the dark.
His ears felt hot. Gently, he pushed Lu Zhuonian and whispered, “Don’t get so close.”
Lu Zhuonian’s gaze lingered on Chen Zemian, unrelenting, taking him in from head to toe.
Furious at the scrutiny, Chen Zemian lowered his voice. “My dad’s watching!”
Lu Zhuonian responded softly but with a hint of mischief. “Isn’t he my dad too?”
“Stop saying that!” Chen Zemian snapped.
Lu Zhuonian said nothing, only wiping the blood from a scratch on his cheek with his thumb, looking displeased—whether because Chen Zemian was hurt or annoyed at his silence, it was hard to tell.
Quickly, Chen Zemian glanced at his father and, in a low voice, coaxed Lu Zhuonian, “Don’t be angry. My dad hasn’t even accepted he have a son yet. It’s not the right time to tell him.”
Lu Zhuonian’s expression was blank. “Which one?”
Lowering his voice again, Chen Zemian explained, “That his son is gay.”
Lu Zhuonian’s displeasure deepened. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes—yes—yes,” Chen Zemian said hurriedly, scratching his chin. “You didn’t say it outright, but you just want to, right?”
Lu Zhuonian hesitated. “Slow down, slow down.”
Chen Zemian appreciated his answer—halfway resigned, he half-jokingly added, “Yes, yes… just wait a moment; I’ll talk to him slowly.”
Lu Zhuonian looked at Chen Zemian with a deep gaze.
A gnawing premonition settled in Chen Zemian’s heart.
Sure enough, Lu Zhuonian rose, looked directly at Chen Qingyu, and announced, “Dad, Chen Zemian has something to tell you—take your time.”
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Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal wondering in the void and falling into the translation abyss.
