Aimed at Love
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. This work is pure fiction. This chapter gets a little intense — violence and swearing ahead. (18+ only). Reader discretion is advised.]
The gun stilled.
“You dare touch him again…”
The voice warned.
“And you lose everything you’ve built.”
Everyone froze.
Wang Zheng turned slowly.
Yibo’s breath caught in his throat.
There, standing at the edge of the warehouse door.
Framed by the flickering lights—were three familiar figures.
Zhan.
Meilin.
Qiao.
Zhan’s face was pale but set with unshakable resolve.
One arm still bandaged, the other curled into a trembling fist.
Beside him, Meilin’s expression was steel wrapped in maternal fury.
Mr. Qiao stood like a silent wall behind them.
Yibo blinked, disbelieving.
‘Am I hallucinating?!’
He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move—his heart slammed against his chest like it might shatter.
But they were real.
They had come back.
They were here.
For him.
———————————————–
Zhan stood tall—barely.
His knees threatened to give way beneath him.
His face pale and drawn from days of fever, exhaustion, and pain.
But something inside him burned like a second heart.
Fueling him with strength that defied logic.
Was it the love for Yibo, beaten and bloodied before his eyes?
Or the weight of his promise—to his late parents, to Yibo’s mother?
He didn’t know.
But he stood.
His chest rose and fell sharply as he stared across the warehouse.
The flickering light above him buzzed faintly, casting a trembling halo around the thin figure who looked nothing like the fragile man Yibo had cradled days ago.
Zhan’s eyes found Yibo.
His breath hitched.
Blood soaked Yibo’s shirt.
His lip was cracked, nose bleeding, eyes swollen, and his arms hung limp where he had fallen.
But even in this state, he looked up at Zhan.
And he smiled.
Barely a twitch of his lips—but Zhan saw it.
Felt it.
Like a dagger twisting into his soul.
Before he could take a step forward, two of Wang Zheng’s men rushed in and grabbed Qiao and Meilin roughly by the arms.
Zhan wasn’t touched.
As if even they sensed something dangerous rising in him.
Wang Zheng clapped mockingly, his voice laced with smug sarcasm.
“Welcome… welcome!”
He drawled, stepping forward.
“I’ve been hunting for you since yesterday—and here you are, walking right into my hands. You’ve truly made my day.”
Wang Zheng turned to Mr. Qiao, a mocking smirk tugging at his lips.
“Qiao… wow. For years you followed me around like a loyal dog. I never knew you were the one stabbing me in the back all along.”
Mr. Qiao met his gaze, steady and unflinching.
“I was never your dog. I stayed because of Bobo. It was my helplessness, not loyalty. I couldn’t abandon him to a monster like you.”
Zhan’s hands clenched into fists.
“You shouldn’t have touched Bobo.”
He said, voice low, trembling with rage.
“You made a big mistake.”
Wang Zheng’s face twisted into a mocking pout.
“Oh? Did that upset you? Poor thing. Your little boyfriend got hurt and suddenly you’re breathing fire?”
He let out a dark chuckle, glancing at Yibo’s slumped form.
“But I must admit—I really enjoyed it.”
Zhan’s body tensed.
The urge to lunge at him was overwhelming.
But Wang Zheng wasn’t done.
“And now what? You’re here to play the same game as him?”
He gestured at Yibo.
“The grand ‘I have the evidence’ performance?”
He laughed again—louder this time.
“Let me tell you something, Xiao Zhan. That trick won’t work anymore. In fact… I’m starting to wonder why I even need those files now.”
Zhan didn’t flinch.
“Because you know if the evidence comes out, you’re finished.”
He said coldly.
“Not just what happened twenty-seven years ago. I’ve collected everything. The bribes, the embezzlements, the offshore operations. Every crime you’ve committed since.”
For a moment, Wang Zheng’s face twitched—as if something landed too close to the truth.
Then he gave an exaggerated gasp.
“Oh no! You caught me!”
He sneered.
“I’m so scared, Zhan.”
He laughed and stepped closer.
“But tell me something, hmm? If you make all of this public… do you really think I’ll be the only one who goes down?”
Zhan’s brows furrowed.
Wang Zheng’s grin turned darker.
“No, my dear boy.”
He said.
“If I fall… he falls with me.”
He pointed at Yibo.
Zhan’s heart skipped.
Wang Zheng continued, voice like poison.
“Why do you think I paraded him around as my devoted son all these years? Why did I let the world believe he was my most trusted heir, my shadow, my secret keeper?”
He stepped closer to Zhan, his voice lowering.
“Because if this empire ever crumbled… he would crumble with it. Guilt by association!”
“Hell, I could even say he was the mastermind behind it all. That he used me. Manipulated me.
Every shady deal that’s gone through Wang Corps since he took over—he had a hand in it. Maybe even he planned it.”
He smirked, eyes glittering with vicious delight.
“Because no one gives a damn about what happened twenty-seven years ago, Zhan. They only care about the blood on the floor today.”
He gestured loosely toward Yibo.
Slumped but defiant on the ground.
“And with the image I’ve carefully crafted for him—the loyal son, the successor, the shadow prince of Wang Corps—I can escape all this with one simple lie.”
He chuckled darkly, tapping his chest.
“He took over everything, I’ll say. Since he started running Wang Corps, he made the calls. I was just an old man, sidelined by my own heir.’”
Then his tone sharpened, laced with cruel finality.
“Now tell me, Xiao Zhan… how will you prove his innocence to the world? How will you convince anyone that his hands aren’t stained with my sins?”
“This boy wasn’t just my golden pawn, Zhan. He was my final shield—the perfect alibi I’ve nurtured all these years.”
Zhan’s breath caught.
His eyes widened.
He hadn’t thought of that.
Even if Wang Zheng died tonight—even if everything went public—the backlash would still burn Yibo alive.
The media.
The court.
The world.
His name would never be cleared.
Zhan felt like the floor had been ripped from under him.
His fists trembled.
His throat clenched.
He looked at Yibo again.
But before Zhan could speak, Yibo stirred.
His voice—weak but burning—cut through the silence.
“You think I’m afraid of that?”
Yibo rasped, blood still on his lips.
“Let the world blame me. Let them crucify me. If it brings justice—even at my cost—I’m ready.”
“No!”
Zhan whispered.
He couldn’t agree.
He wouldn’t.
He couldn’t let Yibo drown for this.
His thoughts raced.
There had to be another way.
A plan. A diversion.
He turned slightly—just enough to meet Mr. Qiao’s eyes across the room.
And Mr. Qiao… sensed it.
The same fear.
The same desperate urgency.
It mirrored in both their eyes.
———————————————
Zhan’s mind had gone completely blank.
Every breath he took felt like it was scraping against glass.
The weight of it all—their lives, the evidence, the lies—pressed on his chest like a stone.
Four lives… all on the line.
And time was bleeding out fast.
His eyes scanned the room, frantically, but no exit appeared.
No miracle.
No way out.
Only Wang Zheng’s smug laughter.
Echoing like a knife being sharpened in the dark.
Seeing the panic flicker in Zhan’s eyes, Wang Zheng smirked.
Like a beast who smelled blood.
He walked forward slowly, deliberately, as if savoring his win.
“What happened, Xiao Zhan?”
His voice dripped arrogance.
“Why so silent all of a sudden? You were barking so loud just a minute ago.”
He leaned in, smiling.
“Running out of tricks already?”
Before Zhan could move, Wang Zheng’s hand shot out and gripped Zhan’s bandaged wrist—hard.
Zhan gasped, his entire body tensing from the white-hot pain.
But he didn’t scream.
His jaw clenched tight.
He didn’t give that bastard the satisfaction.
“Let go of him !”
Yibo’s voice cracked through the warehouse like thunder.
He struggled forward—limping, bloodied—but two of Wang Zheng’s men tackled him again, hard.
Yibo spat blood and still growled out,
“Get your fucking hands off him, you asshole !!”
Wang Zheng turned slightly, still holding Zhan’s wrist, and scoffed.
“Tsk… I should’ve burned you alive with your pathetic parents back then, Zhan.”
He leaned close to Zhan’s ear.
“Would’ve saved me a damn lot of trouble.”
Zhan’s bandage soaked red.
The fabric turned sticky as blood oozed out.
Yibo’s heart dropped.
His breath caught in his throat as he screamed again.
“Wang Zheng ! If you’ve got balls, tell your men to let go of me and face me yourself!”
“Touch him again and I’ll fucking end you !!”
Wang Zheng finally turned.
That twisted, vicious grin was back.
He walked toward Yibo like a lion approaching a wounded deer.
“You really think I’m scared of you, you little pig?”
Suddenly, he grabbed Yibo by the neck, yanked him up, and slammed him against the table again.
Yibo grunted, his back arching in pain, ribs screaming.
Wang Zheng pressed the barrel of his gun to Yibo’s forehead.
His voice dropped to a whisper, venomous.
“What about I just blow this little head of yours off, hmm? And end this farce once and for all?”
Across the room, Zhan froze.
His eyes went wide.
Breath… stopped.
The room spun for a second, heart hammering inside his chest like it wanted to tear its way out.
But Yibo—he didn’t even blink.
Blood dripped from his lip as he looked Wang Zheng dead in the eye.
“Do it, you shit.”
His voice was low, calm and cold.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You already snatched everything from me. Turned my life into a fucking lie. There’s nothing left for you to break me.”
Wang Zheng’s eye twitched.
He laughed—a short, wild thing—and then leaned in closer.
“Oh really?”
Suddenly—
“WANG ZHENG !!”
Zhan’s voice, raw and hoarse, tore through the silence.
Even in his weakened state, he stood firm—shoulders trembling, bandaged hand still bleeding, but eyes ablaze.
“If you want to kill him, you’ll have to go through me first.”
The entire warehouse fell still for a beat.
Wang Zheng’s smile curled with cruel amusement.
Eyes still locked on Yibo.
He didn’t move the gun.
“Can’t you see your little boyfriend is still in my hands Zhan?”
He gave Yibo’s collar a jerk, jerking his neck slightly.
The tension in the room spiked.
Zhan’s lip twitched.
His voice didn’t waver.
“You know what they say about barking dogs?”
“They usually don’t bite. But you…”
Zhan cocked his head slightly.
“Not sure which breed you are, Wang Zheng. But you sure do yap a lot.”
That finally made Wang Zheng turn, slowly, his smile twitching with anger.
He looked back at Yibo, gripping his throat tighter.
He shoved the barrel of the gun harder into Yibo’s forehead.
The click of the safety going off echoed like a gunshot.
His voice dropped an octave—low, venomous.
“What were you saying Yibo? I can’t break you anymore, right?”
Wang Zheng winked.
Slow. Mocking. Cruel.
“Wanna see a demo?”
And then—he turned.
Swiftly.
Like a snake striking.
A flick of his wrist, and click!
One bullet was released.
The sound cracked through the warehouse like thunder tearing the sky apart.
For a second, the world froze.
The air turned to glass.
Everything. Went. Cold.
Zhan didn’t move.
Not immediately.
His breath caught.
A sharp gasp slipped from his lips.
He blinked, confused, the sound still ringing in his ears—
Then came the pain.
White-hot.
Splitting.
His knees buckled.
His gaze slowly drifted to his left—just above his chest.
A blossom of red spread across his shirt like ink in water.
The bullet had pierced him.
Zhan’s gaze drifted, slower than ever, toward Yibo.
Only him.
Eyes wide, his pupils dilated in shock.
Soft. Full of regret. Full of love.
Like a silent goodbye!
His vision swam, and with trembling fingers, he reached for his chest.
But it was too late.
Zhan’s body leaned back slowly… like falling into sleep…
Then collapsed onto the concrete.
Motionless.
Eyes still open—unblinking.
Yibo’s world shattered in an instant.
“No. No!”
“No. No. NO!”
His body shot forward, desperate, but rough hands held him back, pulling him away with cruel force.
He tried reaching for Zhan’s body as if he could still pull him back.
“Zhan!”
He screamed so loud his voice cracked raw.
“ZHAN-GE…!!!”
The warehouse erupted in chaos.
Mrs. Meilin’s voice rang out, shrieking in horror.
Mr. Qiao’s booming call, panicked, shaking.
But all of it faded for Yibo.
All he could see was—Zhan
Something inside Yibo broke!
He roared.
Cursed.
Thrashed against the arms that held him.
“LET ME GO! YOU BASTARD! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!”
His screams were animalistic.
Desperate. Frantic.
Tears poured from his eyes.
His entire body trembling with a grief that burned.
Wang Zheng stepped forward, unbothered, smug.
He crouched beside Yibo and whispered,
“See?”
“I can still break you… my dear son.”
Behind him, Wang Zheng’s men struggled to hold Yibo back as he thrashed violently like a wild animal caught in a cage of grief.
Desperation overtaking pain.
Wang Zheng didn’t even turn.
“Hold him tightly. Let him watch. I want him to see his boyfriend’s dead body—clearly. Let that be the last thing he remembers.”
Yibo’s body shook.
Chest heaving.
Eyes glued to Zhan’s body, lying in a red halo on the floor.
Nothing else existed anymore.
No pain.
No fear.
Only loss—raw and endless, falling with every tear.
“You… killed him…”
He murmured, voice hollow and numb.
“He was all I had…”
The silence broke.
A guttural scream tore from Yibo’s throat—shaking, shattering, as if his soul had split open.
He dropped to his knees, fists clenched in the dirt, the weight of the moment crashing over him like a tidal wave.
His cries weren’t just grief—they were agony made sound, every breath a battle, every tear a storm.
Across the room, Meilin stood frozen.
Her eyes locked on Zhan’s lifeless form sprawled across the cold floor.
But she felt nothing.
No scream. No tears. No breath.
The boy she had raised for twenty-seven years—the one who called her ‘Aunt’—was lying there motionless.
And her mind simply refused to process it.
As if accepting it would shatter whatever was left of her.
Wang Zheng grabbed Yibo by the throat again and slammed him back against the table, metal crashing, tools clattering.
His face inches from Yibo’s.
“You son of a bitch!”
His voice seethed.
“I fed you. Raised you. Protected you. For twenty-seven years.”
“And this is how you repay me?”
Spit flew from his mouth as his grip tightened.
Yibo didn’t respond.
His lips moved, murmuring something soft—unclear.
But even with his head pinned, his mind… was still with Zhan.
That motionless body.
That red-stained shirt.
That final look.
He could still see it—etched into his skull.
Burning through his eyelids.
Wang Zheng snarled.
“Look what I’m capable of. And you—”
“You did nothing. NOTHING!!”
Yibo finally blinked.
Slow.
Looked him in the eye and said through cracked breath:
“You took him from me—YOU TOOK HIM!”
“… and your days are fucking numbered.”
Wang Zheng laughed.
A high, cracked sound. Unhinged.
“I’m gonna kill you right now!”
He hissed.
“Then I’ll kill them—those two insects watching behind. And we’ll see if anyone dares touch me.”
He raised the gun.
Pressed it against Yibo’s forehead.
Hard. Cold.
Yibo didn’t move.
He closed his eyes.
Chest rising and falling—barely.
Silent tears slipping down his face.
Because living without Zhan…
Wasn’t living.
He had failed.
Failed to protect the one person who mattered most.
“Go enjoy your little boyfriend in hell…!”
Zheng sneered.
He tightened his finger on the trigger.
Then—
A single shot fired.
Then—two more.
And everything went silent.
Sometimes in life, some chapters change everything… without warning!
[To be continued….]
The Red Ribbon 