The van stopped. The doors opened. Rough hands grabbed them by the arms and pulled them out into a courtyard surrounded by high walls. The sky was gray overhead and the buildings around them looked old and angry.
They were pushed through a heavy wooden door and down a long hallway with flickering lights. Shen Wei stumbled and Wenhao tried to catch him but a hand shoved Wenhao forward and he almost fell too.
At the end of the hallway was a large room. Dark wood panels on the walls. A long table in the center. And behind the table sat a man who looked like he had never smiled once in his entire life.
Zhenlong.
His face was all sharp edges and his eyes were black like holes burned into silk. He didn't stand up when they entered. He didn't even look up at first. He just kept reading the paper in front of him like two kidnapped boys were nothing more than a knock at the door.
The man who had been holding Wenhao's arm let go and stepped back. A younger man stepped forward instead. Tall. Dark hair pulled back. A silver ring on his thumb. His face was handsome in a way that made Shen Wei's stomach turn because handsome shouldn't feel this terrifying.
Hua Cheng.
He walked around Wenhao and Shen Wei slowly like he was inspecting merchandise. His eyes were cold and curious and they lingered on Shen Wei's face for a moment too long.
"So this is the Liang brat," Hua Cheng said and his voice was smooth like oil. "The little rich boy and his pet."
Wenhao's jaw tightened but he didn't speak.
Hua Cheng grabbed Wenhao by the shoulder and shoved him into a chair at the table. Shen Wei tried to follow but another man held him back and made him stand near the wall.
"Your father," Zhenlong said without any greeting, without any explanation, without any pretense of politeness. "Call him. Tell him to listen to me. Tell him to do what I say. Or I'll kill him."
He pointed at Shen Wei with his chin. Like Shen Wei was nothing. Like Shen Wei was already dead.
Wenhao's hands curled into fists on the table. "No!"
Zhenlong's eyebrows rose a fraction. "No?"
"I said no." Wenhao's voice was cold and steady even though his heart was slamming against his ribs. "I'm not calling him. I don't care what you do to me."
Zhenlong leaned back in his chair and looked at Hua Cheng. A small smile played at the corner of his mouth. "He has fire. I like fire."
Hua Cheng moved faster than Shen Wei could track. He grabbed Wenhao's chin with his silver-ringed fingers and yanked his face up. Wenhao's eyes went wide but he didn't make a sound.
"Fire can be put out," Hua Cheng said softly, his face inches from Wenhao's. "Fire can be drowned. Fire can be cut."
Shen Wei's legs gave out. He fell to his knees on the cold floor and the sob that came out of his mouth was ugly and raw and he couldn't stop it.
"Please," Shen Wei begged and his voice cracked and broke into pieces. "Please don't hurt him. Please.... don't—"
"Shut up," Hua Cheng said without even looking at him. "Nobody asked you."
But Shen Wei couldn't shut up. The tears were pouring down his face and his glasses were fogged and his whole body was shaking. "Please. He's innocent... Please. I'm begging you. Don't hurt him. Don't hurt him."
Zhenlong watched Shen Wei cry with the same expression someone might watch rain through a window. Then he looked at Hua Cheng and tilted his head slightly toward the door.
"Take that one away," Zhenlong said. "Cut his fingers. Start with the smallest. Bring them to me in a bowl."
Shen Wei stopped breathing.
Wenhao's face went white. Whiter than paper. Whiter than milk. Whiter than the moon.
"Wait," Wenhao said and his voice cracked. "Wait wait wait."
Hua Cheng let go of his chin and stepped back with that same cold smile.
Wenhao looked at Shen Wei on the floor.
"Don't touch him," Wenhao said and his voice was small now. Broken. "I'll do it. I'll call my father. I'll tell him. Just don't touch him."
Zhenlong smiled. It was the first real expression he had shown and it was ugly.
"Good boy," Zhenlong said.
Hua Cheng pulled Wenhao's phone from his pocket and placed it on the table in front of him.
Wenhao's hands were shaking as he picked it up. His father answered on the first ring.
"Wenhao. Where are you. The guards lost you. I've been calling—"
"Father." Wenhao's voice was barely a whisper. "You need to listen to them. Whatever they want. Just listen."
There was a pause. Then Mr Liang's voice came back sharp and afraid. "Who is them. Wenhao what's happening."
Hua Cheng snatched the phone from Wenhao's hand and gave it to Zhenlong.
Zhenlong held it to his ear and his voice was calm and unhurried. "Liang. You know who this is. You know what I want. The shipping routes. The northern ports. You've been avoiding me for six months. Now you have twenty-four hours to sign the papers or your son and his little friend lose more than just their pride."
Mr Liang's voice came through the speaker. Loud. Angry. "If you touch them—"
Zhenlong cut the call and handed the phone back to Hua Cheng who slipped it into his own pocket.
"Take them to the basement," Zhenlong said.
Hands grabbed Wenhao and Shen Wei and pulled them to their feet. Shen Wei was still crying. Wenhao wasn't crying but his face was empty like all the color had been drained out of him.
They were dragged through another hallway and down a set of stone stairs. A door opened. A light flickered on. A small room with concrete walls and a single mattress on the floor and nothing else.
They were pushed inside. The door slammed shut. A lock clicked.
And then it was just the two of them in the dark.