Puppet Master: Chapter 11

Price of Silence

[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. It explores deep emotional connections between two male characters and includes intense moments. This work is pure fiction. Reader discretion is advised.]

Yibo sat on the edge of Zhan’s bed.

The box and the album still open beside him.

Photos scattered across the sheets.

His fingers trembled as he picked up each fragment of a life he never knew he had.

Faces he recognized but couldn’t name.

Timelines he couldn’t grasp.

And standing at the doorway— Mrs. Meilin.

Watching.

Waiting.

He looked up slowly.

Eyes red.

Lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.

She stepped forward.

“That photo…”

She said softly, pointing to the one where Zhan’s mother held baby Yibo.

“It was the last one taken before the world changed. Before it all shattered.”

Yibo clutched that photo tighter.

“Tell me everything.”

He said.

Voice hoarse.

“No more half-truths. No more secrets. Please.”

Mrs. Meilin’s shoulders sagged under decades of weight.

She sat beside him.

Mr. Qiao remained at the door, silent, present.

She looked at the photo again, then back at Yibo.

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“It was all so bright back then… laughter, happiness, sunlight in every corner of our lives. Two small families, two little boys, always running around, always laughing… we thought those days would last forever.”

She Continued.

“Meiyu and Han-ge already had Xiao Zhan… our Xian.”

“We lived in houses next to each other—small, warm, full of noise and joy.”

“If I remember right, the spot where Zhan’s apartment stands now… that’s exactly where our little house used to be. There were no high-rises then. Just us, the boys, and the sky.”

Meilin looked down at the photo again.

Fingers gently brushing over the couple holding the baby.

A faint smile touched her lips.

“A-Chen and I had a son almost two years after we got married.”

She said softly.

“We were so happy. We named him Liang Yibo.”

Then, she looked up at him—her eyes soft with years of buried sorrow.

Quietly searching his face for traces of the man she once knew.

Yibo met her gaze, but something twisted in his chest.

His lips parted, but no sound came out.

Finally, her voice trembled—almost afraid of the impact.

“Liang Chen—your father—”

“My… father?!”

The words slipped from his mouth, barely a whisper.

He blinked.

Once. Twice.

Like his mind was trying to reject what his ears had just heard.

His brows furrowed.

Lips parted again with no words.

He looked away, then back at her—

As if waiting for her to say she misspoke.

But she didn’t.

“No… that’s not… That can’t be true.”

Yibo’s voice trembled like the truth had physically struck him.

He turned slowly toward Mr. Qiao, eyes wide with disbelief.

Mr. Qiao gave a single, solemn nod—quietly confirming everything Meilin had just said.

He felt the world had just tilted on its axis.

Meilin’s voice trembled, but her words were firm.

“Yes… your father—Liang Chen.”

Meilin glanced at the scattered mess of photographs and old news clippings on the bed.

Without a word, she picked up two of Liang Chen’s photos and that old newspaper article—the one that spoke of his tragic end.

She leaned forward and placed them gently in front of Yibo.

“This… is the truth you’re trying so hard not to accept Bobo.”

Yibo’s eyes hovered over the image of that man—calm, proud, defiant.

A face that somehow felt like his own.

“You look just like A-Chen.”

Meilin whispered.

“His eyes. His jaw. His strength.”

She placed her hand softly on Yibo’s arm.

“Look at your own reflection, Bobo… do you really think you’re Wang Zheng’s son?”

Yibo stunned.

The photo still in his hand.

His gaze locked onto Liang Chen’s face—the curve of the jaw, the quiet intensity in the eyes, and the calm strength in the way he held the baby.

It was like staring into a mirror that had been waiting for him all his life.

He blinked, once.

Then again.

But the resemblance refused to blur.

Meilin continued, her voice softer now, as if speaking to a memory.

“Your father was the Safety and Security Officer back then and Li Han, your uncle, was the Finance Manager at Wang Corp.”

“Two men. Fierce. Uncompromising.”

“And their wives, Qian Meiyu and I… we shared the same bond. Our families were inseparable, always there for each other, like two halves of the same whole.”

Yibo’s breath caught.

“And you… you were a baby.”

She continued.

“Xian was six. Smart, playful, and so protective of you. Always holding your hand, always looking out for you.”

Yibo blinked rapidly.

His throat tightened as the images she painted began to bloom inside his mind.

“Your father used to call you ‘Bobo.’ It was his favorite nickname. And Xian picked it up too.”

“Even as a kid, Xian adored you.”

“One time, I still remember— Meiyu laughed and said if you were a girl, she’d have made you and Xian marry someday. Just so we could truly become one family.”

A tear escaped Yibo’s eye.

He didn’t wipe it.

His voice trembled, low and cracked.

“So all this time… I had a family?? A real one?!”

“And that man—Wang Zheng—he… he wasn’t even my father!”

Mrs. Meilin nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his face.

Yibo’s chest heaved.

“And Zhan… he knew all of this…”

He let out a shaky breath, voice thick with realization.

“So his attempt to separate me from Wang Zheng… it wasn’t manipulation. He was just doing the right thing. Trying to open my eyes—so I could see the truth someday.”

She nodded again.

Yibo closed his eyes.

His hands shaking.

The weight of everything crashing into him like a tidal wave.

“Zhan never told me any of this… not even a hint.”

He whispered.

“Because he didn’t want to break you. He didn’t want to give you a truth too heavy for you to carry… not until you were ready.”

She said softly.

“This truth isn’t something he could just casually tell you and convince you of—it’s not that simple.”

Yibo stared at the floor.

Teeth clenched, body trembling.

“All my life… I wondered why I never felt loved by him—Wang Zheng. Why it always felt like I didn’t belong. And now… now I know.”

Mrs. Meilin’s voice trembled, cracking as she spoke.

“You’ve always belonged, Bobo. You were just… stolen away from us.”

Yibo turned toward her fully.

His heart racing as he searched her face.

Tears trembled in his lashes.

“You…”

He looked into her eyes.

A pause. A breath. A beat.

“….You’re my mother, aren’t you?”

Her nod was slow, almost as if she is confirming the impossible.

His heart stuttered.

Caught between disbelief and the ache of something long lost finally found.

Before he knew it, his legs gave way and he collapsed to his knees.

The tears finally breaking free, spilling down his cheeks.

The world around him seemed to blur.

The years of confusion, of longing, of pain—all of it fading into the background.

And in that moment, when everything was stripped away,

He realized…

For the first time in twenty-seven years…

He was finally home!

He clutched the edge of the bed.

Mrs. Meilin reached out.

Touched his face gently.

She wiped his tears slowly.

Her hand trembling.

“Don’t cry, my boy… You’re finally here with me. My twenty-seven years of waiting ends today.”

Yibo lunged forward and hugged her tightly.

Desperately.

As if trying to fill every hollow space within him.

“Mom…”

He whispered for the first time.

A soft gasp left her lips.

Eyes brimming with tears.

She had waited a lifetime to hear him call her that.

His voice broken and soaked in longing.

“You have no idea how much I missed you in my life… how much I longed to have you.”

His entire body trembled—shoulders wracked with sob.

Breath hitching like a child who had spent a lifetime holding back tears.

“I was so alone… all my life… without a mother… without a loving father… without a true friend—until Zhan-ge walked into my life.”

“He loved me like nobody else ever did, Mom… not even once.”

Mrs. Meilin held him tightly, tears running down her cheeks.

“It was fate, Bobo… cruel fate. If things were different, maybe today we’d all be together. But you’re here now, and that matters. And I swear—we’ll fix what’s left.”

“We’ll fight this… for Xian.”

Mr. Qiao stepped forward, silent still.

He looked at Yibo gently, then finally spoke.

“I was there too, Bobo.”

Mr. Qiao said quietly.

“I worked with your father—Liang Chen—and Zhan’s father—Li Han. We were all part of Wang Corp. I was Wang Zheng’s assistant at the time, too.”

“And I saw how much they cared. How much they wanted to protect not just their families, but the truth.”

Yibo slowly looked up, his eyes still glassy.

Mr. Qiao continued.

“But things… changed. Not overnight, but slowly, like a storm gathering in the distance.”

A pause.

“They found out things—dark things—within Wang Corps.”

He said quietly, his voice heavy with memory.

“Illegal activities… weapons smuggling, human trafficking, drugs and even murders. Things no one wanted to believe.”

Mr. Qiao stepped forward, voice low and steady.

“Liang Chen, being the Safety and Security Officer, noticed unauthorized transportation routes and unrecorded cargo moving through the company’s logistics network. It had been happening quietly for over two years. At the same time, Li Han—found discrepancies in the audit reports. Numbers that didn’t add up. Funds that had no trail.”

He paused for a second, eyes distant.

“They came to me. We talked—long nights in whispered tones, afraid even the walls might hear. They were determined to uncover the truth… to bring justice to the victims, whoever they were.”

He glanced briefly at Yibo, then continued.

“They traced everything back… and found the same name. Wang Zheng. He was the CEO then. And his father, Wang Shiren, was the Chairman of Wang Corps—a noble, fair man. Unaware of his son’s crimes.”

“Wang Zheng hid all his dirty deals behind the clean name of Wang Corps—because greed and power were the only gods he ever served.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, almost as if bracing himself.

“So, for six months, the three of us worked in silence.”

“Liang Chen and Li Han gathered every scrap of evidence they could find. Gathering every file, every document, every image.”

“And they had enough—enough to bring Wang Zheng down.”

He paused again.

“And they decided… to take everything directly to the Chairman.”

Yibo’s breath hitched again, his hands curling into fists.

Mr. Qiao’s voice dropped.

A shadow falling over his expression.

“But things… didn’t go as planned.”

He let the silence linger for a beat before continuing.

“Before Liang Chen and Li Han could reach the Chairman, Wang Zheng got wind of it—someone tipped him off. He found out they were collecting evidence against him.”

His jaw clenched slightly.

The weight of memory pressing on his shoulders.

“And he acted fast. Shut every possible door that led to his father.”

“Blocked their access. Had eyes on them day and night.”

Mr. Qiao took a slow breath.

“Then… he called them in.”

“One meeting. Behind closed doors.”

He looked at Yibo, the weight of the past in his eyes.

“He tried to persuade them—to back down, to stay quiet. Said it was bigger than them.”

“And when persuasion failed… he tried to buy their silence.”

He shook his head slowly.

“Wang Zheng asked them to name their price. Said he’d give them anything—money, power, positions—if they just walked away.”

Mr. Qiao’s eyes narrowed slightly, voice now edged with something colder.

“But Li Han… he was hot-blooded, just like Zhan. That offer was an insult.”

Qiao’s words picked up weight.

“He stood up—fury in his eyes—and told Wang Zheng exactly what he thought.”

“Said he wasn’t a man who’d sell his soul. That no matter what it took, he’d reveal the truth and bring him to justice.”

A small, wistful pause.

“And Liang Chen stood right beside him. Quiet, but firm just like you Bobo.”

“Loyal as ever to his friend.”

Mr. Qiao looked down for a moment before meeting Yibo’s gaze again.

“I was there that day. A silent witness to it all.”

“I never showed any involvement with Liang Chen or Li Han in front of Wang Zheng.”

“I had to stay invisible… to survive.”

Mr. Qiao continued with a heavy voice.

“When everything failed—Wang Zheng came to their homes. With threats. With men. He said to them, hand over the evidence and walk away. Or else…”

Yibo felt like the floor beneath him was cracking.

The man he called father—was nothing but a criminal.

Mr. Qiao’s voice dropped.

“When he saw that Liang Chen and Li Han were not going to stop… he decided to make one an example.”

Mrs. Meilin’s voice broke as she looked at Yibo.

Her eyes filled with sorrow.

“It was that fateful night—the night before Xian’s seventh birthday.”

“A-Chen had gone out of town for an official meeting, but he promised Xian he’d be back in time for his birthday. I was alone at home with you.”

“All the Decorations were up. The house was warm with laughter.”

“And then… he came. The monster in disguise.”

“Han-ge sensed something was wrong. He told Meiyu to hide Xian immediately. She took him and locked him in the outhouse. Told him not to make a sound. Not until they returned.”

Mr. Qiao stepped closer, his face grim.

“Wang Zheng entered with charm. Spoke softly. Asked once more for the evidence. Promised peace. But when Li Han refused….”

“The conversation turned tense—words grew sharp, voices rose and before we knew it, it escalated into a physical fight between Wang Zheng and Li Han.”

Yibo’s voice was barely audible.

“Then…?”

“Then chaos.”

Meilin whispered.

“His men beat them. Ransacked the house. Tore everything apart. And somehow, Xian had snuck out after hearing all the shouting.”

“He clung to the steel bars of the window, his tiny fingers clenched tight… and watched it all. Watched his parents being beaten—tortured.”

Meilin’s voice trembled.

“I was inside our house… alone. I didn’t have the courage to step out. I could only hold you close and pray—pray that A-Chen would come back soon. That he’d stop it all.”

Mr. Qiao’s voice was low, pained.

“My heart was breaking, watching it all unfold. I wanted to stop it—but I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough.”

He looked away for a moment, as if ashamed.

“I kept looking for Zhan… praying he had run. Hoping he was somewhere safe, far from all this madness.”

Mr. Qiao swallowed hard, the weight of memory tightening around his throat.

His voice cracked.

“Wang Zheng… pulled out his gun. Calm. Like it was just another task.”

He stared ahead, eyes unfocused.

“He screwed on the silencer… like he’d done it a hundred times before.”

“And then…he looked at Li Han and said—

“Guess you don’t want to celebrate your son’s birthday after all.”

A breath hitched in Mr. Qiao’s chest.

“And then he pulled the trigger.”

“No hesitation.”

“Just one shot. Straight through Li Han’s chest.”

A pause.

“Meiyu screamed… a scream I still hear when I try to sleep.”

“He turned to her—cold, merciless—and shot her too.”

Mr. Qiao’s voice broke.

“They dropped to the floor. Together. Side by side.”

“Li Han… even as he bled out, was crawling toward her.”

“Reaching with shaking, blood-soaked hands, trying to hold her one last time.”

“And Meiyu…”

“…she was gasping, eyes wide with terror, fingers twitching—like she was trying to reach back.”

Mr. Qiao’s face crumpled.

Yibo’s eyes widened, horror blooming.

His hands trembled on his knees, jaw clenched as the image formed—raw, violent, unbearable.

Mr. Qiao paused, breathing unevenly.

“And then… I saw him.”

“Zhan. He was there… clutching the window bars with those tiny hands. His face pressed between them.”

“His eyes, wide with fear, were silently crying.”

“My heart stopped. Because I knew… if they found him… they’d kill him too.”

Mr. Qiao added, voice sharp.

“And before leaving…”

“Wang Zheng pulled Li Han’s bloodied face up and whispered.”

“Let this be a message for your friend.”

“Wang Zheng instructed his men. They doused their bodies in flames while they were still alive. They set the house on fire—burned everything.”

Mr. Qiao’s eyes softened, painful flicker of regret passing through them.

“And Zhan… he was there. A silent witness to all of this.”

“A boy too traumatized to scream. Too small to save his parents. Just… helpless. Watching everything he knew, everything he loved, go up in flames.”

Mr. Qiao’s voice hardened.

“One of his men came running and whispered—

“There’s a child, sir.”

“Wang Zheng didn’t flinch. He simply said.”

“Nobody should be spared. Find him. Kill him.”

Mr. Qiao’s voice dropped.

“I couldn’t waste time. I told Wang Zheng I’d search for the child myself, with the men.”

He paused for a brief moment.

“I found Zhan near the window—still frozen in place, unable to move or speak. The horror had taken everything from him.”

“I took him secretly… hid him in the garage. He curled under the car, trembling, too scared to make a sound.”

He exhaled slowly, the pain lingering in his words.

“They searched everywhere. But they didn’t find him. Left thinking—‘What can a child do?’”

He looked directly at Yibo, his gaze firm but sorrowful.

“I told Wang Zheng… I convinced him we’d take care of the boy later. That it wasn’t urgent.”

Mrs. Meilin’s voice trembled as she continued.

“I saw the flames rise above the house… I couldn’t stop crying. My mouth covered, trying to stifle the sound, holding my baby so tightly.”

“I was terrified… thinking that Zhan might’ve been caught in that fire too. That he might’ve been burned alive…”

She paused, the memory clearly overwhelming her.

“It felt like an eternity before A-Chen finally returned. By then, the police, ambulances, and crowds had already gathered in front of the house.”

“It was chaos. But A-Chen… he ran straight to look for Xian, when he realized they had only found two bodies. He knew. He guessed where Zhan might’ve been hidden.”

Her eyes softened, the grief still raw.

“A-Chen knew where Zhan would be safe. And that’s where he ran. The garage. Dropped to his knees when he saw him.”

“Xian… curled under the car, covered in soot, his body trembling.”

She closed her eyes for a moment.

Her voice just a whisper as she said.

“He lifted him into his arms… held that trembling little boy close. Xian clung to his Uncle Chen, whispering through his sobs…”

“Uncle Chen, I saw everything… I saw them… dying…”

Meilin wiped her eyes.

“A-Chen brought him home. And I held him. He was still frightened and crying.”

“I told him—we’re your family now. And we’ll never let anything happen to you.”

She whispered, her voice breaking.

“And to this day, I still can’t forget the way Xian looked at me—like he was trying to believe it.”

“My poor boy… he never celebrated his birthday after that day. Not even once.”

Yibo collapsed forward again.

Sobbing. Broken.

The pain too deep to carry.

For Zhan.

For everything he had lost.

Mr. Qiao stepped forward again.

“There was an investigation… but it was closed as an accident due to gas leakage. Wang Zheng made sure of it.”

“Liang Chen knew he was living on borrowed time. He saw it coming—knew he’d be next.”

Mr. Qiao’s voice wavered, eyes distant with memory.

“So he handed me everything he had—every file, every photograph, every proof of Wang Zheng’s crimes.”

“He told me – ‘Hide it. Protect it. If something happens to me, this truth must survive.’”

“He trusted me with it… and this house. Back then, no one knew it existed. Not even Wang Zheng.”

“I was just a shadow to them—his assistant. Quiet. Invisible. He never suspected I was helping him.”

“Zhan was already shattered after his parent’s death—he clung to his Uncle Chen like he was the last piece of his world. And Liang Chen… he was determined. He swore to bring Wang Zheng to justice for everything he’d done.”

“It took him almost a year to collect stronger, undeniable evidence. Every day, he walked a tightrope—between pretending to serve Wang Zheng and secretly preparing for his fall.”

He paused, swallowed hard.

“But then… it happened. A car crash. Sudden. Brutal. The kind of silence that steals everything before you even get a chance to say goodbye.”

“Liang Chen didn’t survive.”

Mr. Qiao’s voice broke.

Meilin sobbed again.

“I was carrying our second child when A-Chen died…”

Her voice trembled, eyes glistening.

“The shock—it broke something in me. I lost the baby soon after.”

She looked at Yibo, pain etched deep into her face.

“So no, Wang Zheng didn’t just take your father from me…”

“He took our unborn child too. He destroyed my whole world.”

“And Zhan… he saw it all. First, he lost his parents—and just when he was starting to breathe again, almost a year later, he lost his uncle Chen too.”

Yibo stared in disbelief.

Meilin’s voice quivered as she fought to continue.

“He was so regretful… so guilty that he couldn’t save Han-ge or Meiyu. He wanted to do something immediately to bring justice to them…”

“But before he could act, before he could even think clearly…”

She paused, her breath catching in her throat.

Her face twisted with pain.

“Wang Zheng did it.”

Mr. Qiao confirmed.

“But he didn’t stop there. Three weeks later, he came to visit your mother.”

“Meilin was mourning Liang Cheng’s death, holding you—still a toddler. She had just lost her unborn child too… the grief was unimaginable.”

“But when I warned her that Wang Zheng might come to visit, she didn’t even blink. Through the grief, through the fear… she acted. She hid Zhan again—this time in the attic.”

“He tried to break her. Threaten her. I was there too… standing behind him like a shadow.”

“And when Meilin wouldn’t beg… when she didn’t flinch—he snapped.”

“He did the cruelest thing a man could do to a mother.”

“He forcefully took you from her arms..”.

Meilin’s voice trembled.

“I begged him. I fell to my knees. I screamed until my throat gave out. I pleaded like a madwoman.”

“But he just looked down at me and said—

‘Don’t worry. I won’t kill him. He’ll live well. But if you ever speak a word of the truth… if those files ever show up… he dies. No matter how old he is.’

Her voice broke completely.

“I watched him take you away… and I couldn’t do a thing.”

Yibo’s jaw clenched, eyes glistening—but he didn’t blink.

He was holding it in.

Barely.

Mr. Qiao’s face darkened.

“He took you away from her—because your life became the price of her silence. She had no choice but to stay quiet… to protect you.”

Yibo was pale.

Shaking.

“After he left, I brought Zhan down from the attic. And when Xian found out they had taken you away… he was crying. Furious. Powerless.”

“And he promised me—even at just seven years old—that one day, he’d bring you back.”

Meilin wiped her eyes.

“I lost everything—my husband, my son, my unborn child, and my best friends.”

“And Xian? He lost everything too.”

Mr. Qiao looked away.

“And she left the city. Came here. Started over. With nothing but Zhan and his promise.”

Yibo’s lips trembled.

And the weight of truth… nearly broke him.

Again.

He looked at Yibo gently, then finally spoke.

“I wanted to leave Wang Corps, Bobo. After seeing what kind of monster Wang Zheng truly was. But when he took you… I stayed.”

“I stayed so I could watch over you… protect you from the inside.”

“But Wang Zheng—he didn’t care about you, Bobo. Not really. He just threw you into the hands of nannies and told me to keep an eye on you.”

“Then he added his surname to your name and made himself your father—officially.”

“It was easy for him. He had already silenced every voice that could question him. Even his own father. Even his own wife.”

“Gradually, he turned you into a son who blindly believed every word he said. He molded you into someone who obeyed only him, trusted no one else, and followed his rules without question.”

“He controlled your life—your choices, your words, your entire existence—in the name of a love he never truly had.”

Yibo’s eyes filled with a storm of emotions.

“You’re saying my entire life… that man raised me, called me son… and all this time—”

Mr. Qiao nodded solemnly.

“Yes. All this time, he was just using you as bait. He raised you like a pawn, Bobo. Because you were the most useful weapon he ever had against us.”

“But even then, he kept his illegal dealings hidden from you. Why?”

“Because no matter how much he tried to play the role of a father… your blood still belongs to Liang Chen.”

“And he was terrified of history repeating itself. Afraid that one day, you’d reject him. That you’d see through it all.”

“He saw it in you early on… you’re someone who cannot tolerate injustice. Who cannot stay silent in front of what’s wrong.”

“Just like your father.”

Mr. Qiao paused for a moment.

“Every step of the way—I reported back to Meilin. For twenty-seven years, I’ve kept her informed about you… and Zhan.”

Mrs. Meilin continued, her voice softer now, but filled with steel.

“I raised Xian. Made him strong, sharp. But he already had it in him. He was always intelligent, always brave. He was determined to get justice for his parents… and to bring you home.”

Mr. Qiao nodded.

“I helped Zhan monitor you for six months. Then I got him a job in Wang Corps. As your assistant. So he could stay close. Keep an eye on you—and on Wang Zheng.”

“His target was never you. It was always Wang Zheng. But to reach him, he first needed to break you. To make you realize the truth.”

“And I think that was the hardest part for him—because breaking your belief, the belief you had for twenty-seven years, that your life and everything you held as your legacy wasn’t real… that you weren’t even a part of what you thought was your bloodline.”

“And the hardest truth of all—that the man you blindly trusted as your father was never really your father. Zhan knew how difficult it would be for you to accept that.”

He paused.

“But everything was going according to plan… until—”

Yibo looked up sharply.

“Until what, Uncle?”

Mrs. Meilin looked at him, her gaze filled with sorrow.

“Until he realized he had fallen in love with you.”

“I tried my best to keep Zhan away from his emotions for you.”

Mrs. Meilin’s voice trembled.

“I kept reminding him that the mission was important. Because I knew—once he realized his feelings for you, it would be so hard for him to move forward. He wouldn’t be able to bear seeing your pain, and that would put both of you in danger.”

She paused, her eyes dark with regret.

“But despite all my efforts, it happened. Because it was destined to happen.”

Yibo’s breath caught like a blade to the chest.

Images flashed in his mind—Zhan’s smile, his touch, his voice calling out ‘Bobo.’

All of it.

Real.

And now—aching.

Mr. Qiao sighed.

“When you found out the truth first in Zhan’s apartment, Meilin told me we needed to fix this before it all went wrong. That’s why I came to talk to you on the terrace that evening… tried to guide you gently. I couldn’t say much. But I tried.”

Yibo’s heart twisted.

The remorse on his face was undeniable.

Mr. Qaio’s voice sharpened.

“I never thought you’d run to Wang Zheng. That you’d hand Zhan over… to him.”

Yibo’s hands clenched into fists.

“I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”

“He just got into my head, manipulated me with his words. I don’t know how I fell for it… thinking he could find a way.”

Meilin nodded, softly.

“So this is the truth, Bobo. The truth about Xian. About you.”

“All I ever want is justice. For my husband. For Han-ge and Meiyu.”

“For the little boy who watched his parents burn. While the man who did it lived in comfort.”

“Not anymore!”

Yibo stood.

His shoulders stiff, jaw locked.

He wiped his tears—not to hide the pain, but to prepare for battle.

A breath. Deep. Steady.

Then he turned to her.

He reached for her trembling hand.

Held it with quiet resolve.

“His good days end here.”

His voice dropped—cold, unwavering.

“The weapon he stole all those years ago…is now the very blade that’ll destroy him.”

He bent slightly, eyes fierce, unblinking.

“I swear to you, Mom…”

“I will bring Zhan back. To you. To us.”

“You’ve already lost too much.”

A beat.

“Now it’s his turn to lose.”

And in the silence that followed, there was no peace.

Only the heavy calm before the reckoning.

A war had begun.

[To be continued….]