Ghost Claw's Base - Recreation Room - 7:34 AM
Tòumíng woke up on the couch, his body stiff from sleeping in an awkward position, his neck protesting with a dull ache that suggested he'd be sore for the rest of the day.
The base was mostly empty—people either sleeping in their actual rooms or already out on whatever operations Ghost Claw had them running.
But Ben was still there, sitting on the other end of the same couch, watching some basic romance movie on the TV with tears streaming down his face.
"He doesn't deserve you, Jonah!" Ben sniffled, his British accent thick with emotion. "You're too good for him! Too pure!"
On screen, apparently Jonah was having a dramatic confrontation with his boyfriend, who was revealed to be cheating.
"Just like how Keiji didn't deserve me," Ben mumbled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Fucking Japanese guys are all the same. Too pretty. Too charming. Too willing to fuck around behind your back."
Tòumíng didn't really register what was happening, his brain was still foggy from sleep and the general chaos of the past twenty-four hours. But he recognized crying, and his instinct was to try helping.
He reached over and gently slapped Ben's back a couple times—awkward, unpracticed pats that communicated solidarity if nothing else.
"Uh... there's other fish in the sea?" Tòumíng offered, his tone making it clear he had no idea if that was helpful or not. "Or like... you're better off without him? And... time heals all wounds?"
He was basically just listing generic breakup platitudes he'd heard in movies.
Ben sniffled and nodded. "Thanks, mate. That's... actually not helpful at all, but I appreciate the effort."
"Cool. I'm gonna go."
Tòumíng stood up and walked toward the hallway, leaving Ben to his emotional movie marathon.
In the hallway, he encountered Think Tink The Tinkerer playing catch with Cfuar using a metal pipe. Except it wasn't really "catch"—Think Tink would throw the pipe, and Cfuar would run after it, grab it in his mouth, and bring it back like a dog.
"Good boy, Cfuar! You're getting faster!" Think Tink praised enthusiastically as the four-foot lizard dropped the pipe at his feet.
Tòumíng was about to ask where the bathroom was, then reconsidered. He'd rather just take a bath at home. The base's facilities were functional but not exactly luxurious.
He stopped by Xuān Láng's guest room and knocked.
"Come in!"
Tòumíng entered to find Xuān Láng sitting on the bed, looking significantly better than he had yesterday but still clearly exhausted from the ordeal.
"You should be good to go home now," Tòumíng said. "Black Hawk shouldn't bother you anymore."
Xuān Láng's eyes went wide with alarm. "FUCK NO! I'm scared shitless of those Black Hawk fuckers! They know where I live! Where my kids go to school! I'm staying here where there's security!"
"I'm friends with the lover of the gangster who wanted to kidnap you in the first place," Tòumíng explained. "So they shouldn't mess with you anymore. You're under her protection now. Probably."
Xuān Láng processed this information slowly. "You're... friends with the Ice Queen?"
"Yeah. Well, 'friends' might be strong. 'Sugar baby' is probably more accurate."
"What the fuck is your life?"
"I ask myself that every day. Anyway, tell Háo Héng he's probably safe too."
Xuān Láng stood up and grabbed Tòumíng's shoulders, his substantial weight making the gesture feel significant. "Thank you. Seriously. You saved my life. You saved Háo Héng's life. I owe you. Big time. Anything you need—gems, authentication, connections—I'm your guy."
"Just don't overcharge me on gems anymore."
"95% market value. Forever. That's my promise."
Tòumíng nodded. "Also, when are you going to see your wife? You keep talking about your daughters but never mention her."
Xuān Láng's expression became uncomfortable. "We're separated. Not divorced, but separated. We live in the same house for the kids' sake, but we're not really on great terms right now. Haven't been for years."
"Ohhhh." Tòumíng nodded like that made sense, even though he had zero experience with complicated family dynamics. "Alright. Well, good luck with that."
"Thanks. I'm gonna need it."
Tòumíng left the room and headed downstairs, where he found Sven mopping the floors with his characteristic nervous energy.
"Hey, tell Ghost Claw I'm leaving for today."
Sven looked up, his Swedish accent making his words sound slightly musical. "She's not even at home today."
"Where is she?"
"Buying groceries."
Tòumíng raised an eyebrow, trying to imagine the scenario. Ghost Claw—6'4", heavily muscled, wearing her signature gas mask, pushing a shopping cart through a supermarket, picking out oranges and comparing prices on canned goods.
"How is that practical? Doesn't the gas mask make people stare?"
Sven shook his head. "She just wears a regular face mask when not on duty. Like for COVID. Nobody notices."
"Ohh. That makes way more sense."
"Yeah."
"Alright, I'm off."
Tòumíng walked out to the parking area where his new—well, "new" was generous—beat-up Toyota SUV was parked among significantly nicer vehicles.
He whistled appreciatively despite the car's condition. It was HIS. Free. Functional.
He climbed in, started the engine—which turned over immediately because Toyotas were reliable even when they looked like shit—and pulled out onto the street.
He didn't have a driver's license. Had never taken a driving test. But he'd gotten the hang of driving pretty quickly through sheer necessity and the benefit of living in a city where traffic laws were more like traffic suggestions.
The drive home took about twenty minutes. He parked in the villa's driveway, climbed out, and entered through the front door.
Měi Nán was sitting on the couch, looking like he'd been waiting. He glanced up as Tòumíng entered.
"Did you have fun?" His tone was neutral but carried an undertone of "you better have a good explanation."
Tòumíng sighed heavily and collapsed into a chair across from him. "Define 'fun.'"
He set his car keys on the coffee table.
Měi Nán didn't fully register the keys at first. "Oh, cool. Cool car keys. New car?"
"Yeah. The lady I owed money to let me have it."
Měi Nán's brain was still processing. "Oh yeah... wait." His eyes snapped to the keys, then to Tòumíng. "You mean the CREDITORS?! The ones you owe a stupid amount of money to?! Those people?!"
He didn't know the full Ice Queen details, ust that Tòumíng had inherited massive debts from multiple sources and was somehow still alive despite it.
"Yeah. Apparently one of them had a crush on my dad, so they like me now by extension. It's a whole thing. And I think I'm a sugar baby now."
"A SUGAR BABY?!"
"Her name's the Ice Queen. She's kind of terrifying."
Měi Nán sighed and leaned back on the couch. "Is she at least hot though? Like, if you're going to become someone's sugar baby, they better be attractive."
"Very. Like, objectively stunning. Unnaturally beautiful in a way that seems impossible."
"Well, that's something. Any other details I should know?"
"Oh, she's dating Chesqo Dong. If I remember correctly."
Měi Nán's entire demeanor changed instantly. His eyes went wide. His body straightened. "YOU MEAN MY CELEBRITY CRUSH CHESQO DONG?!"
Before Tòumíng could respond, Měi Nán had already pulled out his phone and was frantically scrolling through saved content.
"LOOK AT HIM!" He shoved the phone in Tòumíng's face, showing an edit video of Chesqo Dong set to some dramatic music. "Look at that JAWLINE! Look at those CHEEKBONES! Look at that BODY!"
Tòumíng squinted at the screen. Chesqo Dong was... fine? He guessed? The guy's jaw was way too sharp, like it could cut glass. His hair was styled in that specific "I spent three hours making it look effortlessly messy" way. He wore designer clothes that screamed "I'm trying very hard to look like I'm not trying."
"I don't really see the appeal," Tòumíng said honestly. "His jaw is too sharp. And he seems like he's trying too hard."
"TRYING TOO HARD?!" Měi Nán's voice rose to a pitch that suggested genuine offense. "He's PERFECT! He's everything! Look at this video of him working out! LOOK AT THOSE ABS!"
He scrolled to another edit, this one showing Chesqo shirtless, apparently from some magazine photoshoot.
"And his ARMS! Have you SEEN his arms?! I would let him choke me! I would PAY him to choke me! I would commit CRIMES for him to even LOOK at me!"
Měi Nán was full-on fangirling now, his eyes glazed with admiration bordering on obsession.
"And his VOICE! Have you heard him talk?! It's like velvet wrapped in silk wrapped in pure sex appeal! I have an entire folder of interviews just to listen to him speak! Sometimes I fall asleep to compilations of him saying literally anything!"
"That's... concerning."
"And the way he WALKS! So confident! So powerful! Like he owns every room he enters! I would let him step on me! I would thank him for stepping on me! I would ask him to step HARDER!"
Tòumíng just stared, completely bewildered by this level of enthusiasm.
"And don't even get me STARTED on his hands! LOOK at his hands!" Another video. Close-up of Chesqo's hands doing... something. Tòumíng couldn't even tell what. "Those are the hands of a GOD! I have DREAMS about those hands! Inappropriate dreams! VERY inappropriate dreams that I will NOT describe but are VERY detailed!"
"I really don't need to know—"
"And his SMILE! When he smiles it's like the sun coming out! Like angels singing! Like every good thing in the universe condensed into one facial expression! I would kill for that smile! I would DIE for that smile!"
Tòumíng waited for the rant to end, but Měi Nán just kept going, showing more edits, more photos, more videos, his voice becoming increasingly breathless and reverent.
Finally, after what felt like an hour but was probably only five minutes, the fangirling subsided.
Měi Nán looked at Tòumíng with a teasing smile. "Are you jealous? That I'm fangirling so much over a guy that's not you?"
Tòumíng raised an eyebrow. "Why would I be jealous? I also said I found the Ice Queen attractive. We're even."
Měi Nán pouted dramatically. "You're too much of a green flag. I need you to be more jealous and insecure so I know how to talk to you better. All my usual tactics don't work on you."
"Are all the guys you talk to insecure?"
"I'm a fucking ESCORT," Měi Nán said flatly. "I'd be out of a job if men WEREN'T insecure red flags. Confident, emotionally stable men don't pay for companionship."
Tòumíng considered this. "Makes sense."