Morning light filtered through the blinds as I shifted, wincing at the dull ache in my lower back. The sheets bore faint traces of last night—proof of vows broken, promises to my mother and Zhongjing shattered. I wrapped myself tighter in the thin blanket, guilt gnawing at me.
Zhi's side of the bed lay empty. Typical—men were supposed to collapse after sex, yet here he was, sipping coffee and flipping through the morning paper like nothing had happened. I tugged on his oversized shirt and shorts, avoiding the torn dress from yesterday. Lesson learned: no more tempting fabrics.
"Apple?" I grabbed one from the bowl, avoiding his gaze.
He set down the paper. "Not hungry?"
"Too hot." I bit into the fruit, juice dripping down my wrist.
His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me onto his lap. "You're sweating," I protested, squirming.
"Don't care." His hand slipped under the shirt, calloused fingers skimming bare skin.
I slapped his wrist. "Behave."
He nuzzled my neck instead, breath warm. "Why do you think I'm called Zhi?"
"Your mother's idea?"
"Wisdom." His voice tightened. "She wanted me strong enough to survive him."
The air grew heavy. I set down the apple.
"The rubber duck," he began, staring past me. "The landlord gave it to me after I tracked down their old apartment. My mother hid a letter inside—proof I'm not the old man's son."
I froze.
"My real father died begging that monster to spare her. He didn't." Zhi's grip tightened. "She stayed alive long enough to have me. Then…"
I cradled his head against my chest, his heartbeat erratic. "Your birthday?"
"Same week she died." His laugh was bitter. "Celebrating while she bled out? Never."
The confession hung between us until I pointed to the beach. "Is that yours?"
He nodded. "Shark territory. Stay shallow."
I pouted. "I've never seen a real one."
"And you won't today."
His warning faded as I squirmed, accidentally brushing against him. He stiffened.
"Don't. Move."
I stilled, recognizing the heat in his gaze. "Zhi, I'm still—"
"I know." He pulled back, jaw clenched. "I'm not him. I won't force you."
The apology died when shouts echoed outside. Zhi shoved me into a hidden alcove under the stairs. Three men barged in, their leader scanning the room.
"Check upstairs," he barked. "The bastard's got a girl here."
My blood ran cold. They tore through the bedroom, laughing at the rumpled sheets. "Pathetic," one sneered. "Rich boy's got a virgin pet."
Zhi's hand clamped over my mouth. Qingyan. His half-brother's name hung unspoken.
"Tell Qing the place is clean," the leader muttered. "And keep your mouths shut about the girl."
The door slammed. I trembled. "Your brother wants you dead?"
"He wants the inheritance." Zhi's voice was ice. "The old man's dangling it to punish me for refusing his puppet marriage."
He traced the pearl clam in my palm—a fragile thing, like us. "This life… it's toxic. You should run."
I pressed closer. "Too late."
Downstairs, we filled a tank with seawater, the clam burying itself in sand. Zhi clasped the red thread bracelet around my wrist. "You said this binds us."
"It does."
His kiss was salt and desperation. Some chains, you choose to wear.