On the pitch-black road, a black Aston Martin Vanquish sped forward.
The party venue was in the suburbs, some distance from the nearest police station. Seth casually grabbed a tie, bound the boy's hands, secured him to the passenger seat, and drove off.
Aside from shouting a few words when he was first pinned down, something in a language Seth didn't understand, the little lamb had gone quiet after Seth shot him a warning glare.
The timid boy quickly shut up. His body trembled slightly, but he didn't even dare make a sound.
At that moment, Seth somewhat understood why his nickname was "Street Rat."
He really was as timid as a mouse.
—
Am I going to die?
Fang Chen thought in despair.
Where was this man taking him? Maybe some remote factory—chain him up, then use a chainsaw to cut off his limbs.
That's how it always goes in American horror movies.
The boy curled up as much as he could, cursing himself for being so careless—risking his life for a bit of money.
The little lamb trembled badly. The passenger seat was spacious enough for him to shrink into himself pitifully. From Seth's angle, he could clearly see the small lamb tail sticking up—a fluffy little ball, quivering along with its owner.
Because of his posture, the already short bloomers had ridden up even more. The soft flesh at the edge of his thighs pressed outward, faintly pink.
Seth's gaze lingered for two extra seconds before shifting away.
He admitted it calmly, this was a lamb that suited his tastes in every way.
But that didn't mean he would show even a shred of mercy.
—
The car continued forward until roadblocks appeared ahead. Several police officers waved batons, signaling them to stop.
Fang Chen's eyes lit up, and he immediately sat up straight.
Saved!
But when Seth glanced at him, he instantly shrank back down, lowering his head like a quail.
The officers approached, and Seth stepped out of the car.
"Sir, heading back to the city?"
Their tone was polite—likely because the sports car was too eye-catching.
"There's a road collapse ahead under repair. The road is temporarily closed, you'll need to take a detour."
Seth frowned.
This was the fastest route. A detour would double the distance.
If he were alone, it wouldn't matter. But in his car…
"Sir, is there anyone else in your vehicle?" one officer suddenly asked.
Seth raised an eyebrow and glanced back.
The little lamb had suddenly gotten bold—leaning forward, his entire face pressed against the glass, mouth moving as if shouting something.
Unfortunately, the car's insulation blocked all sound.
For a moment, Seth considered handing him over to the police right here.
But the thought quickly faded.
In such a desolate place—with only a small shack and two temporary officers, sending a lamb like this over… who knew what might happen.
Of course, that had nothing to do with Seth.
Yet, unbidden, the image of the boy curled up and trembling surfaced in his mind.
…Forget it.
Since he caught him, he'd at least ensure his safety on the way.
Just as one officer approached the car, Seth spoke:
"There's no one else in the car."
"Sir, are you joking?" the officer said, glancing inside. "Maybe take off the mask first."
"Of course."
Seth removed the gray wolf mask, revealing a face that was strikingly handsome and intensely oppressive.
The officer froze. "Seth Bolton?"
It was impossible not to recognize him, his face appeared on posters almost as frequently as celebrities, and was just as good-looking.
Rumor had it his mother had Irish blood, giving him gray-blue eyes. His features were sharply defined—deep-set brows, high cheekbones, a clean jawline, thin lips that carried a cold, distant air.
No wonder he was so popular.
The officer quickly smiled. "It's an honor to meet you here."
Seth remained indifferent. "There's no one in my car."
"Of course!" the officer said quickly. "We've checked—there's no one inside."
Only then did Seth's expression soften slightly. He nodded. "Thank you."
As he drove off, the officer waved enthusiastically. "Have a pleasant evening!"
The black sports car roared to life, reversed, and turned onto another road.
—
Fang Chen had no idea what had just happened.
He couldn't hear anything outside. He had gathered all his courage to get the police's attention, but just as they were about to open the door, something the man said made them leave.
In that instant, it felt like falling into an icy abyss.
He was going to die.
The man drove silently, turning onto another road. The silence made Fang Chen's heart pound, he kept feeling like the man might pull out a knife at any second.
But the man had removed his mask.
Fang Chen stole two glances before quickly looking away.
It wasn't what he expected, he thought the guy would have scars or some deformity.
But then again… in horror movies, killers often look handsome.
That's how they lure victims in.
…
Seth suddenly spoke, voice calm:
"Enjoy walking into traps that much?"
First time he'd seen someone so eager to be taken by the police.
So he knew he'd messed with the wrong person?
Too late.
Fang Chen flinched, sitting up slightly but keeping his head down.
Was that… mockery?
It was true—he'd been blinded by money, chasing after a rich-looking man.
His body trembled. His voice was soft and shaky.
"I'm sorry… can you let me go?"
Seth let out a cold laugh. "Dreaming? Though you can sleep, we'll be driving all night."
Fang Chen bit his lip.
All night? Are we going to the ends of the earth?
Still… it meant he wouldn't be killed immediately.
There was still a chance.
He forced himself to calm down.
Maybe Benjamin would notice he was missing. Unfortunately, his phone had been left at the storage area.
Right now, he had to stabilize this man.
"I… I have money. Do you want money? Or anything else—if you let me go, I'll give it to you."
Seth let out a vague chuckle.
"Your money was originally mine. Though I don't care for it."
Selling fake tickets to his match and daring to mention money.
"As for anything else…"
He suddenly braked.
The car stopped abruptly.
Undoing his seatbelt, Seth leaned over toward him. His gray-blue eyes were sharp and invasive.
"What can you give me?"
Fang Chen froze. He swallowed, lips moving... but no words came out.
The space inside the car suddenly felt suffocating.
Fortunately, Seth said nothing more. After a few seconds, he withdrew, opened the door, and stepped out.
Only after the door shut did Fang Chen gasp for air.
That scared him to death. He thought…
He looked outside. It was a remote road—empty land on both sides, no streetlights. But not far away was a small gas station with a convenience store.
Soon, the man returned with a bag.
Fang Chen quickly lowered his head, sitting obediently like the most well-behaved hostage in existence.
Seth got in, took only an energy drink, and tossed the rest to Fang Chen.
Then he untied the tie binding his wrists.
"Eat."
Fang Chen quickly rubbed his wrists. After being bound so long, it hurt.
Seth glanced at him, the boy's pale, slender wrists were marked with bright red lines.
He frowned slightly.
Too delicate.
Yet his gaze lingered.
—
Fang Chen could feel it.
The man was watching him.
He didn't dare look up. Opening the bag, he found bread and milk.
What was this? Keeping him alive for fun?
Still… he was starving.
As long as he was alive, he couldn't give up.
He tore open the package and took a huge bite, cheeks puffing as he chewed.
Seth leaned back, watching casually.
Even the lamb ears on his head seemed to twitch as he ate.
Sending a lamb like this to prison—
Seth could easily imagine what would happen to him.
Timid. Delicate.
Where did he get the courage to sell fake tickets?
Could he even bear the consequences?
For some reason, Seth felt irritated.
He cracked the window open. Cold, damp air rushed in.
It looked like rain was coming.
This rural road was already long and difficult—if it rained heavily, it would be worse.
Seth remembered that a little further down the road there was an abandoned factory where they could barely take shelter from the rain. But if that were the case, they'd probably have to spend the night there—with this little lamb.
—
Author's Note:
Irresponsible mini-theater / short skit*
(The couple is wearing a matching set of pajamas.)
Fang Chen loves wearing Seth's pajamas at home.
Because they're too big, he only needs the top—it's practically like a nightgown.
Which often leaves Seth shirtless.
But both of them like it this way.
Fang Chen can bury his face in Seth's chest anytime and take a few bites.
And Seth saves the trouble of taking off his pants, he can just pick Fang Chen up and enjoy himself.