Fan Jun sat on the sofa in the front reception area, keeping his eyes on the wall clock while mindlessly spinning his smartphone over and over in his palm.

After ten continuous minutes of this, Liu Wenrui, who was sitting right beside him, finally hit his limit. He turned his head to stare at him. “Brother Fan.”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun responded casually.

“Your phone is about to get motion sickness,” Liu Wenrui noted dryly.

Fan Jun offered a soft chuckle and brought the spinning to a halt. Just as he was preparing to slide the device back into his pocket, it began to vibrate with an incoming call. The screen displayed He Chuan’s name.

“I’m going to step outside to take this,” Fan Jun announced, pushing himself up from the sofa. He accepted the call as he pushed the heavy glass door open and stepped out into the hallway. “Hello?”

“Are things wrapped up over there yet?” He Chuan inquired on the other end.

“You’re tracking this with significantly more anxiety than the actual legal heir,” Fan Jun noted, pacing toward the window situated at the absolute end of the long corridor. “These procedures don’t move that fast.”

“I’m not calling to rush the legalities,” He Chuan clarified. “I’m just giving you a quick heads-up. I’m currently heading out of the office. Regarding the layout over at the coffee shop—there are a handful of structural areas we need to demolish and remodel completely. The construction crew has already arrived on site, and I’ve instructed them to begin the preliminary teardown. Swing by to inspect their progress when you head back this way.”

“Got it,” Fan Jun acknowledged. “Who’s holding down the fort over at Chuan Yu Lu right now? Is the shop entirely unattended?”

“He Lu is scheduled to head over there shortly to take over,” He Chuan said.

“Should we… consider hiring an additional staff member?” Fan Jun suggested.

“Let’s just have He Lu step in to bridge the gap for the time being,” He Chuan reasoned. “Both of our commercial district locations have full-time staff handling operations now, so there’s no operational need for her to remain permanently stationed at those spots anyway.”

“That’s not the point,” Fan Jun countered, feeling a bit exasperated by the logistics. “Between the two of you, you’re currently managing five distinct storefronts—”

“That spiritualist shop of hers belongs strictly to her and has absolutely zero overlap with my corporate accounts,” He Chuan cut in immediately to correct him.

“Fine, let’s say the two of you are managing four storefronts,” Fan Jun recalculated. “Two of those locations are operating with a grand total of zero employees. The second anyone has to run an errand or takes a scheduled day off, you’re left completely short-handed—”

“The core team can scramble and stretch our resources to cover the shifts for now. In business, you have to shave down overhead costs wherever possible,” He Chuan argued. “Besides, the high-revenue accounts always contract me directly anyway. Those clients aren’t going anywhere.”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun murmured, choosing to let the argument drop. Ultimately, He Chuan had navigated the industry for a significant number of years, and none of his various storefronts had gone under… which proved his business philosophy possessed a certain degree of operational validity.

Once the call concluded, Fan Jun retraced his steps back to the reception area to resume the wait. Within the span of those few minutes, Liu Wenrui had already tilted his head all the way back against the cushions and drifted soundly off to sleep.

The slight shifting of the cushions as Fan Jun sat back down caused Liu Wenrui to snap awake with a sudden gasp. “Whoa!”

“Go back to sleep,” Fan Jun murmured.

“It’s fine. Honestly, I live my entire life in this permanent state of being half-awake and half-dreaming anyway,” Liu Wenrui noted, letting out a massive yawn.

“Are you guys scheduled to begin your professional internships next semester?” Fan Jun inquired.

“Yeah. Our university organizes them in rolling batches. There’s an initial placement block right when the academic year fires up, and a secondary block scheduled for next March,” Liu Wenrui explained. “Our entire dorm crew is planning to submit applications for the September batch.”

“Oh,” Fan Jun noted.

“Did Zou Yang not mention that to you yet?” Liu Wenrui asked, shifting his gaze.

“He did,” Fan Jun said.

“If he already explicitly told you, why are you asking me?” Liu Wenrui stared at him, bewildered.

“We’re sitting here waiting; I figured we might as well have something to talk about,” Fan Jun reasoned.

“Given the depth of our relationship at this stage,” Liu Wenrui laughed, “do you honestly still feel the need to rely on awkward small talk to break the silence?”

“Just killing time,” Fan Jun said.

“Brother Fan, is there a specific question you’re actually trying to ask me right now?” Liu Wenrui asked, his gaze sharpening with sudden intuition.

Fan Jun cast a brief glance in his direction but kept his thoughts to himself.

“You can voice it and see what happens, but I’m definitely not going to disclose absolutely everything,” Liu Wenrui warned playfully. “When push comes to shove, my loyalty resides firmly in Zou Yang’s corner.”

Fan Jun averted his gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Lay it on me,” Liu Wenrui said, slapping his own thigh.

“In the past, when Zou Yang…” Fan Jun structured his thoughts carefully, turning back to face him. “…when he’s sleeping back in the dorm room…”

“Huh?” Liu Wenrui’s eyes went perfectly round, a wave of instant, immense awkwardness washing across his facial expression.

“What’s with that reaction?” Fan Jun questioned.

“…Nothing,” Liu Wenrui sputtered. “It’s just… his bunk and my bunk are situated directly adjacent to one another.”

“Does he still frequently wake up in the middle of the night in a state of sudden panic?” Fan Jun inquired directly.

“Oh,” Liu Wenrui let out a massive breath of relief. “Regarding that… I remember Zhiyue mentioning something recently…”

He raised a hand to flag down Li Zhiyue, who had been sitting at the far end of the row deeply engrossed in a mobile game alongside Zhang Chuanlong. “Li Zhiyue.”

“Hey…” Fan Jun reached out an arm to intercept the summons, but his reaction time was a fraction of a second too slow.

“Yeah?” Li Zhiyue lifted his gaze from his screen, immediately sliding down the row to join their conversation.

“Didn’t you mention recently that Zou Yang hasn’t really been waking up in the dead of night lately?” Liu Wenrui asked him.

“Yeah. Historically, it used to happen at least once or twice a week without fail,” Li Zhiyue confirmed. “I’m an incredibly light sleeper; the slightest ambient noise wakes me right up. But during those final two weeks on campus leading up to the holiday break, he didn’t seem to stir during the night at all.”

“Did something happen?” Liu Wenrui turned back to press Fan Jun.

“No… nothing’s wrong.” Caught under their combined, intense scrutiny, Fan Jun felt a sudden prickle of embarrassment. His original intention had been to quietly extract the information from Liu Wenrui in private… Fortunately, Zhang Chuanlong remained entirely focused on his mobile game across the room and hadn’t migrated over with the others.

“Has he been exhibiting some kind of unusual behavior?” Liu Wenrui pushed further.

“No, it’s not that,” Fan Jun sighed, relenting. “It’s simply that my own schedule has been incredibly hectic lately, and I’ve been sleeping like the dead at night. I don’t have a clear gauge on his nocturnal patterns right now, and it’s been a considerable amount of time since he last scheduled an appointment with his therapist.”

“Ah, I see where you’re coming from,” Liu Wenrui noted, leaning his back against the frame of his chair. “Based on that, he’s definitely making solid progress. As time marches on, the weight of those past events is naturally going to dilute a bit.”

“Mmhmm,” Fan Jun nodded in agreement.

The duration of their wait remained unquantified, but right as Liu Wenrui snapped awake from his third consecutive upright nap, the heavy doors to the executive conference room finally swung open.

He bolted to his feet instantly.

Zou Tianrui and her maternal aunt walked out into the corridor.

Seeing them, Liu Wenrui immediately sank back down into the cushions, adopting an incredibly casual posture as he casually draped his arms across the absolute top of the sofa backrest.

As Zou Tianrui navigated past their little row, she paused briefly to cast a cold glance in their direction.

“Safe travels,” Liu Wenrui noted from his reclined position, his tone dripping with nonchalance.

“Hmph.” Zou Tianrui turned sharply, pushing through the exit doors and vanishing from the suite.

The absolute second the exterior door clicked shut, Liu Wenrui bolted right back up to his feet. “Where the hell is Zou Yang?”

Across the reception area, the conference room doors had already sealed shut once more.

“He likely has remaining administrative formalities to finalize independently,” Li Zhiyue reasoned.

“Should we head over there to check in?” Zhang Chuanlong suggested.

“Both of you stop trying to complicate the logistics. Sit back down,” Li Zhiyue instructed.

Fan Jun maintained his silence, his gaze locked entirely on the closed conference room doors.

An additional twenty minutes ticked away, to the point where his vision was beginning to blur from the sheer intensity of his stare, before the handles finally turned.

Fan Jun stood up immediately, watching as Zou Yang emerged from the room, a distinct layer of physical and mental exhaustion washing across his face.

“Is everything finalized?” Fan Jun inquired softly.

“Mmhmm,” Zou Yang acknowledged, letting out a long, quiet breath. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Did the proceedings run smoothly?” Liu Wenrui asked, falling into step directly behind him. “Did that faction try to pull any underhanded legal maneuvers at the final hour?”

“Everything proceeded without a hitch. There’s a massive mountain of administrative follow-ups remaining, but I’ve executed a comprehensive power of attorney to let Attorney Cao manage the entire spectrum on my behalf,” Zou Yang explained. He casually slung an arm across Fan Jun’s shoulders, transferring half of his body weight onto the older man as they navigated the corridor. “Title deeds, corporate re-registrations, asset transfers… a never-ending list of formalities. Listening to the breakdown alone was enough to put me to sleep…”

“So how did the final asset division shake out?” Zhang Chuanlong pressed.

The dorm crew possessed zero understanding of complex legal protocols; their primary concern was centered entirely on the final allocation of resources and ensuring their friend hadn’t been exploited.

“It’s settled,” Zou Yang noted, tilting his head slightly to rest it against Fan Jun’s shoulder. “There wasn’t a massive volume of physical assets remaining anyway. Over the course of the last several years, my aunt and that entire faction had already managed to siphon a substantial amount of capital away from my father…”

“Holy crap, that explains everything!” Zhang Chuanlong barked. “No wonder they possessed the absolute audacity to show up and demand a cut of the remaining assets. They had functionally turned siphoning his wealth into an established habit!”

“Presumably,” Zou Yang muttered.

Fan Jun wrapped a supportive arm securely around Zou Yang’s waist as he pressed the button for the elevator, listening quietly as the younger man recounted the details directly into his ear in a muted, rhythmic cadence.

Zou Tianrui had specifically requested ownership of the suburban villa originally earmarked for her mother, citing the sentimental value of having selected the property alongside her mother. In exchange for securing sole title to the villa, she had legally signed over ownership of the inner-city apartment to Zou Yang.

Furthermore, regarding the collection of high-value jewelry secured within the bank’s private safety deposit vault—a significant portion of which had belonged to Liu Qiao—Zou Tianrui was determined to retain custody of the pieces. To balance the ledger, she had formally relinquished her claim to the older residential property where they currently resided, transferring full ownership to Zou Yang…

“So outside of that single villa, she essentially forfeited her claim to every other piece of real estate?” Liu Wenrui calculated. “Are those specific jewelry pieces… genuinely worth that much capital?”

“Her choice wasn’t predicated on financial evaluation; she simply possessed a profound psychological aversion to retaining ownership of that specific house,” Zou Yang clarified.

“That makes sense. After all, it’s the exact property where your family resided for well over a decade,” Li Zhiyue noted thoughtfully.

“Mmhmm.” Zou Yang shifted his stance to stand upright as the elevator arrived, though he remained closely anchored against Fan Jun’s side.

“She certainly possesses a stubborn streak of pride,” Zhang Chuanlong tsked.

“What’s your plan for managing that specific property?” Liu Wenrui inquired.

“I’ll head back and consult my mom first,” Zou Yang said. “If she has zero desire to utilize it, I’ll put it on the market, liquidate the asset, and purchase a brand-new place for her.”

His mother immediately waved her hands in a definitive gesture of refusal. “No, we don’t want it. We absolutely don’t want it.”

“Then we’ll proceed with liquidating it,” Zou Yang said, sitting at the kitchen dining table and keeping his gaze fixed on her. “In any case, aren’t you and Uncle Lyu… scheduled to get married toward the end of this year?”

“Once the sale closes, you retain the entirety of the proceeds. Every single one of these properties resides legally under your name; whether you choose to liquidate them or occupy them is entirely your prerogative. Your mother has zero claim or desire for that capital,” she stated firmly. “Old Lyu and I are already actively touring residential listings. Our personal savings are more than sufficient to cover the purchase, and the two of us have zero practical need for a massive layout anyway.”

Zou Yang let out a soft, internal sigh, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“You should allocate a portion of those funds to establish a secure retirement nest egg for your mother,” Uncle Lyu chimed in from the side. “Look into purchasing a comprehensive insurance policy or structured financial instruments. It ensures she has a reliable safety net moving forward.”

“Mmhmm,” Zou Yang agreed softly.

“There’s absolutely no need for that! Don’t go throwing capital around carelessly,” his mother countered, her brow furrowing deeply. “You—”

“Hey,” Uncle Lyu interrupted smoothly, cutting her off. “Don’t micromanage the situation so heavily. The child genuinely desires to allocate resources for your well-being and is actively prioritizing your future. Stop nagging him incessantly…”

“Xiao Yang,” his mother said, a sudden wave of clarity washing over her expression. She moved across the kitchen to sit directly beside him at the table, taking his hands in hers. “Your mother didn’t mean it that way. My concern is anchored entirely on your personal future. You’re right on the precipice of university graduation, which means…”

“I know,” Zou Yang said softly, gently patting her hand to soothe her anxiety. “I understand completely.”

His mother turned her head sharply to glare at Uncle Lyu. “Which is exactly why you need to stop spouting nonsense!”

“Understood. I’ll refrain from spouting nonsense,” Uncle Lyu conceded easily.

“You literally just finished spouting it!” she pointed out.

“I’ll be significantly more mindful next time,” Uncle Lyu replied, a warm grin spreading across his face.

“Oh, right,” his mother added, squeezing Zou Yang’s hand affectionately. “Tomorrow morning, I want you to head over to the temple to burn some incense.”

“Huh?” Zou Yang blinked, caught entirely off guard.

“Go offer up prayers for blessings,” she instructed. “Every single one of those past hardships has officially concluded. Moving forward, everything needs to transition smoothly—your upcoming graduation, your entry into the professional workforce… everything aligned perfectly.”

“Does the Bodhisattva genuinely offer structured coverage that spans that far into the future on a single request?” Zou Yang teased.

“It’s about securing personal peace of mind!” she tsked.

“Alright,” Zou Yang conceded with a smile.

After spending a bit more time chatting with his mother, Zou Yang stepped out of the kitchen and navigated his way into the training area of the old martial arts academy building.

Fan Jun was currently standing by the edge of the mat, methodically monitoring Hou’er as he ran a training module with a young, teenage student.

Zou Yang positioned himself directly behind him, choosing not to immediately interrupt.

He quietly observed the older man’s coaching form for roughly five continuous minutes before finally closing the distance. “Coach Fan.”

“Hmm?” Fan Jun turned his head sharply. “When did you slip in here?”

“I’ve been standing right here for ages,” Zou Yang noted.

“Why didn’t you call out to me?” Fan Jun asked, a genuine smile illuminating his features.

“I was content just watching you,” Zou Yang said. “It seems your sensory awareness has dulled a bit; I’ve been stationed right in your blind spot for five minutes and you didn’t register a thing.”

“Lately… my instinctual vigilance hasn’t been operating at maximum capacity.” Fan Jun subconsciously began to lift a hand to affectionately cup Zou Yang’s cheek, but caught himself halfway through the motion, dropping his arm back to his side. He shifted the subject smoothly. “How did the discussion with Sister Shan wrap up?”

“It went well,” Zou Yang nodded. “Tomorrow morning, I need to head over to the temple to burn some incense.”

“I’ll accompany you,” Fan Jun stated instantly.

“You requested leave today, and you’re planning to take time off tomorrow as well?” Zou Yang questioned.

“We’ll simply head out a bit later in the morning. It’s a standard weekday, so client traffic at the facility is naturally going to be minimal anyway,” Fan Jun reasoned.

“Sounds like a plan,” Zou Yang smiled.

“In that case…” Fan Jun began, turning his gaze back toward the mat where Hou’er was demonstrating a sequence.

“Coach Fan,” Zou Yang said, taking two slow, deliberate steps backward as he locked eyes with him. “I’d like to book a private session.”

“What?” Fan Jun blinked, turning his entire body around to face him fully.

“I’m booking a training session. Right now,” Zou Yang clarified.

Fan Jun’s eyes swept down to assess the casual attire the younger man was currently wearing. “…Fine.”

The old academy building was exceptionally quiet today. Outside of a handful of young students, Hou’er was more than capable of managing the collective training block independently.

Fan Jun navigated to the equipment locker, tracking down a set of standard protective gear along with an old, well-worn pair of sparring gloves for Zou Yang.

“What exactly does the curriculum entail today?” Zou Yang inquired, eyeing the comprehensive array of heavy protective armor he was being instructed to don.

“Full combat sparring,” Fan Jun announced, pacing toward the center of the canvas. He cast a brief look back over his shoulder. “Weren’t you explicitly craving a solid beating?”

“Shut up,” Zou Yang laughed, quickening his pace to close the distance. “You’re seriously planning to thrash me?”

“That depends entirely on your defensive output,” Fan Jun countered.

“Fine. Let’s see exactly what kind of damage you can inflict,” Zou Yang tsked, raising his guard.

A direct, powerful front kick delivered squarely to the chest.

Fan Jun’s left hand had not achieved absolute, comprehensive recovery yet, and he had lacked a structured, rigorous training regimen over the course of the past year.

However, the sheer velocity and localized force behind that single kick served as definitive proof of the structural foundation built across more than a decade of elite athletic discipline.

Zou Yang failed to execute his backward evasion in time. The impact sent him tracing a clean backward arc through the air, landing flat on his back against the canvas.

“Holy crap,” he muttered, staring blankly up at the exposed framework of the gym’s ceiling.

Fan Jun closed the distance, standing directly over him as he extended a hand downward. “Satisfied?”

“Incredibly,” Zou Yang noted, reaching up to accept the assistance.

Fan Jun clamped his fingers securely around the younger man’s wrist, pulling him upward with significant force while simultaneously utilizing his momentum to slide him toward his blind spot.

This time, however, Zou Yang’s cognitive focus was operating at absolute maximum capacity. The mechanical force Fan Jun exerted was clearly designed to accomplish far more than a simple recovery assist.

The exact millisecond Fan Jun loosened his grip, Zou Yang executed a synchronized lateral pivot alongside him. The sudden shift allowed him to smoothly evade the tracking trajectory of Fan Jun’s follow-up front thrust kick. Utilizing the residual kinetic energy, he slid into a crisp side-step before unleashing a powerful counter side kick of his own.

The strike connected flush against the heavy leather focus mitt Fan Jun had raised with his left hand, producing a sharp, resounding crack that echoed through the facility.

“Impressive,” Fan Jun noted, validating the mechanical execution.

“What did you expect?” Zou Yang said, a smug grin pulling at his features as he tilted his chin up.

Before his expression could even settle, Fan Jun executed a rapid step-through to instantly close the distance, launching a secondary kick targeted squarely at his sternum.

Once again, Zou Yang was sent airborne, collapsing back down onto the canvas.

“Fan Jun, you absolute bastard!” he barked from his position on the floor. “That was a textbook ambush!”

“Who exactly is pulling an ambush here?” Fan Jun countered, walking over to look down at him, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Did your previous strike manage to unbalance me?”

“No,” Zou Yang admitted.

“Did I formally call a halt to the active sequence?” Fan Jun pressed.

“No,” Zou Yang muttered.

“Are we maintaining the round?” Fan Jun asked, the corner of his mouth curving upward into a distinct smirk.

“Show me a single elite trainer whose private curriculum concludes after a meager ten minutes,” Zou Yang countered.

“Then get back on your feet.” Fan Jun tilted his head slightly, purposefully choosing not to extend a hand to assist him this time as he took two steps backward to clear the space.

Zou Yang pushed himself up into a seated position, using the thick padding of his sparring glove to aggressively swipe at the bridge of his nose. The clumsy motion accidentally dislodged his athletic glasses, sending them sliding down to the absolute tip of his nose. With a sharp shake of his head, he sent the frames flying entirely, landing safely onto the adjacent floor matting.

“Secure your gear properly,” Fan Jun instructed.

“How exactly am I supposed to manage that logistics?” Zou Yang questioned, lifting his heavily padded gloves to shake them significantly in the air.

Fan Jun kept his counsel, offering no verbal response.

“Coach Fan,” Zou Yang said, fixing his gaze on him. “Be a professional and secure my glasses for me.”

Fan Jun walked over to the edge of the mat, bent down to retrieve the frames, and placed them carefully onto the structural shelf nearby.

“Resuming the block,” Fan Jun announced, smacking the heavy focus mitts together in a sharp rhythm. “You take the offensive track.”

Zou Yang bounced up to his feet, executing two rapid, localized hops to reset his footwork.

“Brother Yang, focus your offensive output primarily against his right flank!” Hou’er’s voice suddenly drifted across the gym. The younger assistant coach had migrated over to the edge of the ring without anyone noticing. “His left-hand structural stability still lacks maximum output capacity!”

“Have you officially concluded your assigned training block?” Fan Jun turned a cool glance toward Hou’er.

“Just initiating a standard five-minute rest interval. I figured I’d observe the masterclass,” Hou’er stammered.

“Which specific administrator authorized this five-minute operational variance?” Fan Jun pressed.

Hou’er opened his mouth to formulate an excuse, sputtered for a long moment, and finally snapped his head away. “I cleared it directly with my ancestors, alright?! I’m leaving, I’m leaving, I’m leaving…”

“You aren’t leaving the floor,” Fan Jun corrected firmly. “You’re resuming active instruction.”

“Understood—” Hou’er whined, pivoting on his heel before playfully planting the toe of his shoe against the backside of his teenage student. “Move it, let’s get back to the sequence.”

Fan Jun turned his focus completely back to Zou Yang, tilting his chin up in a silent invitation. “Come on.”

Zou Yang wasted zero time. He executed a rapid step-through to close the gap, unleashing a ferocious right hook that slammed heavily against the focus mitt secured to Fan Jun’s left hand. He followed up instantly with a crisp left straight punch, before looping a powerful right overhand that cracked flush into Fan Jun’s left side defense once more.

The sheer velocity of the combination forced Fan Jun to systematically concede ground, executing a series of backward defensive steps. The sensation of pure, unadulterated physical release sent a massive surge of adrenaline rushing through Zou Yang’s veins.

It had been an exceptionally long time since he had allowed himself to fully vent his internal stressors through raw physical output.

However, after expanding that massive burst of energy across a handful of strikes, his footwork patterns began to lose their structural synchronization.

The exact millisecond he attempted to recalibrate his stance, Fan Jun denied him the opportunity. Capitalizing on the younger man’s forward lean, Fan Jun exploded upward, driving his knee firmly into Zou Yang’s midsection. Before Zou Yang could even register the kinetic impact, a follow-up downward elbow strike connected, sending him crashing face-first onto the canvas.

“Ugh…” Zou Yang rolled his body over, sprawling flat on his back once more.

“Up,” Fan Jun commanded.

“I’m spent,” Zou Yang gasped.

“Show me a single elite trainer whose private curriculum concludes after fifteen minutes,” Fan Jun echoed his previous logic.

“I’m requesting a structured rest interval,” Zou Yang argued.

“The operational parameters are determined strictly by me,” Fan Jun countered, extending a hand down to loop around his wrist.

“Hey…” Zou Yang breathed.

The exact moment Fan Jun tightened his grip to haul him up from the canvas, Zou Yang violently coiled his legs, planting his feet firmly against the floor to generate sudden leverage as he unleashed a wild, looping punch targeted directly at Fan Jun’s jaw.

The mechanical execution was completely uncalled for and violated standard sparring etiquette, but given that Fan Jun had initiated the unprincipled recovery pull…

Ultimately, the strike whistled completely through empty air.

Before the blow could connect, Fan Jun pivoted smoothly, utilizing the younger man’s momentum to send him crashing heavily back down onto the mat.

The impact produced a loud, hollow thud against the floor.

“Your core stability is remarkably developed,” Fan Jun noted, evaluating the recovery reflex.

“You absolute bastard,” Zou Yang laughed breathlessly, entirely giving up the fight as he lay splayed out across the floor.

The private training session ultimately concluded after a grueling thirty minutes, wrapping up primarily because Zou Yang’s year-long hiatus from rigorous physical conditioning had left his cardiovascular endurance completely depleted.

Furthermore, given the sheer volume of times he had been systematically sent crashing to the canvas, maintaining standard physical output would have been an biological impossibility…

“Let’s wrap it up. The kitchen should have dinner finalized shortly,” Fan Jun announced, unstrapping the heavy focus mitts and tossing them aside.

Zou Yang began working on the closures of his sparring gloves as he headed toward the locker room corridor. “Get in here.”

“Hmm?” Fan Jun, who had just taken a seat atop a wooden vaulting box to catch his breath, looked up.

“Get in here. Right now,” Zou Yang commanded, vanishing through the doorway.

“Did you sustain some kind of physical injury during the sequence?” Fan Jun asked, pushing himself up and immediately trailing behind him.

The exact second Fan Jun crossed the threshold into the privacy of the changing room, Zou Yang violently discarded his unfastened gloves onto the floor. Turning on his heel, he grabbed Fan Jun securely by the fabric of his forearms, utilizing his entire weight to slam the older man heavily against the locker room wall.

“Zou Yang,” Fan Jun gasped as his back collided with the plaster. His instinctual training kicked in instantly, his eyes darting toward the open doorway to check the perimeter outside.

Zou Yang didn’t care about the perimeter. He lunged forward, capturing Fan Jun’s lips in a fierce, demanding kiss as his hands slid hungrily beneath the hem of the older man’s shirt, his fingers clawing desperately into the muscles of his back.