Chapter 1 — "Even in Your World, There Are Places I Can't Reach"
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It was quiet at 2AM.
The kind of quiet that settled deep in your bones — heavy, familiar, almost comforting.
Lian Song stood in the kitchen, stirring a small pot of soup on the stove. The flame beneath it was barely flickering. The scent of ginger and chicken filled the air, warming the otherwise cold apartment.
He glanced at the clock on the wall.
2:03AM.
He's late today.
Not that it surprised him.
Shen Zhihao, the man everyone feared and admired in equal measure, was rarely bound by time or routine. The world outside called him many things — ruthless, heartless, untouchable.
But to Lian Song…
To Lian Song, Shen Zhihao was just his.
Even if that "his" often felt fragile. Temporary. Borrowed.
Even if their love had always lived in the quiet shadows — hidden from the world.
Two years, Lian Song thought to himself, smiling faintly.
It's been two years since he allowed me into his world.
Ten years of loving him alone.
Two years of loving him in secret.
He should be happy. He was happy.
Wasn't he?
The sound of the lock turning snapped him out of his thoughts.
Soft. Barely audible.
But Lian Song's heart always recognized it — recognized him.
The door opened.
Shen Zhihao stepped inside, tall and sharp in his dark suit, his coat draped over one arm. His face, as always, was cold and unreadable — eyes dark, lips pressed in a thin line.
An intimidating figure to anyone else.
But the moment his gaze landed on Lian Song, something small — so small no one else would notice — softened.
Without a word, Shen Zhihao reached out as he passed by — long fingers ruffling Lian Song's hair with casual intimacy.
Like it was habit.
Like it was theirs.
"You're late," Lian Song said softly, a little pout in his voice he didn't bother to hide.
Shen Zhihao didn't answer right away.
He moved with slow, deliberate grace — loosening his tie, unbuttoning his cuffs. The room filled with the faint rustle of expensive fabric.
Finally, that deep, familiar voice answered:
"Mn."
That was all.
But it was enough.
It had always been enough.
For him.
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Later that night, long after the soup had gone untouched — after Shen Zhihao had pulled him into bed, after he had kissed him slow and possessive and left faint marks blooming on his skin — Lian Song lay awake.
The weight of Shen Zhihao's arm was heavy around his waist. His body was impossibly close — all hard muscle and quiet heat pressed against Lian Song's smaller frame.
And yet, his mind wandered.
Eyes drifting… to that door.
The only door in the entire apartment that remained locked. Cold. Untouched.
A door that didn't belong in their quiet, stolen little world.
His thoughts drifted — unwilling — to a memory.
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Flashback — Five Months Into Their Relationship
He had been curious, once.
Naïve enough to ask.
"Ah Zhi… what's in that room?"
He still remembered it — the way Shen Zhihao had gone unnaturally still. The way his expression had darkened in a way Lian Song rarely saw directed at him.
Not angry. Not exactly.
But… dangerous
"Never enter it."
A pause. Cold. Final.
"Never ask about it again."
"Do you understand, Lian Song?"
At the time, his heart had clenched.
But he had nodded obediently.
"I understand."
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And for the longest time, he thought that was enough.
He thought that as long as Shen Zhihao loved him — or whatever version of love the man could give — he didn't need to know.
But tonight…
Tonight, staring at that door in the dead silence of 3AM…
A quiet, unshakable thought crept into his heart.
Slow. Icy.
Why does it feel like… whatever is behind that door…
Is something that could destroy me?