Crimson Vow
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. It explores deep emotional connections between the characters with intense moments. Reader discretion is advised.]
Two cups sat between them on the table.
Steam curled gently from the rims.
Untouched.
Forgotten.
They sat across from each other—like strangers.
Like everything between them hadn’t once burned bright.
The silence was thick.
Heavy.
Almost unbearable.
Zhan’s eyes dropped to his cup, then back to Yibo’s face.
He hadn’t expected him to actually come inside.
But now that he had—he didn’t know where to begin.
Finally, Zhan spoke.
His voice was quiet.
Careful.
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
Yibo’s eyes didn’t waver.
“I didn’t think I would either.”
Zhan’s fingers curled at his side.
There were a thousand things he wanted to say.
But none felt enough.
So he asked the one thing that mattered.
“…Why are you here?”
A pause.
Then Yibo looked away, just for a second.
“To see if I still feel something.”
Zhan’s chest tightened.
“And?”
he whispered.
Yibo met his gaze again.
“I do.”
Zhan swallowed hard. “BoBo—”
“Don’t…!”
Yibo said softly.
Not angry. Just tired.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it.”
Zhan’s lips parted, but no words came.
He looked down.
Then, after a long beat, Yibo took a slow breath.
“I saw you.”
He murmured.
“Watching me. The other night.”
Zhan stilled.
He didn’t deny it.
Yibo’s gaze softened, just slightly.
“That day, you didn’t even try… you just let me walk away.”
Zhan gave a faint, broken laugh.
“I stayed quiet… because I thought anything I said would only push you further.”
Yibo nodded.
His voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of every sleepless night, every memory that refused to fade.
“I hated you… every single day since you left.”
He looked up, his eyes tired.
Shattered.
“And I don’t forgive you yet.”
Yibo said gently.
“But…”
He hesitated.
“I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t care.”
Zhan’s voice broke.
“Neither do I.”
His fingers tightened around the edge of the chair.
Yibo continued.
“I couldn’t stop missing you even once. And I hated myself for it even more.”
Zhan didn’t know whether to feel relief, guilt or grief.
Maybe all of it at once.
He swallowed hard, blinking fast, feeling the burn at the back of his eyes.
His voice trembled as he tried to speak, low and unsure.
“Bo—Mr. Wang… please, just give me a chance to expl—”
Yibo cut in, sharp and sudden.
“Did you ever love me?”
His voice cracked.
“Or was I just another puppet in your plan?”
Zhan inhaled shakily.
His voice was barely a whisper.
“BoBo… please. Don’t ever doubt my love for you. I know it’s hard to trust me right now—I know I broke that trust. But if you’re here today, still looking at me, still asking… then somewhere deep down, you already know the answer.”
His eyes met Yibo’s, wet with everything he couldn’t say.
“What I felt for you… what I feel for you—it’s the only part of this that was ever real.”
Yibo’s gaze didn’t soften.
If anything, it darkened.
“Then tell me.”
He said, low and bitter.
“How can I believe anything you say now?”
Zhan didn’t flinch.
His voice, though soft, held a quiet urgency.
“Because once I explain everything—once you hear the full truth—you’ll understand. I have proof, Bo… every word I say, I can show you it’s real.”
He leaned forward slightly, desperate but careful, and gently reached for Yibo’s hand.
“All I ask… is for you to listen. Just once. With the same heart that once believed in me.”
Yibo didn’t say anything.
But he moved his hand, startled by the touch, and his hand accidentally struck the coffee cup.
Hot liquid splashed across the table, staining his coat.
Zhan immediately stood up.
“No problem, I’ll get tissues. Wait a minute.”
He disappeared into the kitchen.
Yibo wiped the spill from his coat with his handkerchief.
When Zhan returned, he handed Yibo some tissues.
“Here, let me—”
“I’ve got it.”
Yibo said flatly.
Zhan didn’t press.
He wiped the spill from the table with the tissue before sitting back down in his chair.
They both reached for their cups and drank.
Zhan exhaled slowly, trying to gather himself.
“I should’ve told you everything earlier.”
He said quietly.
“But it wasn’t that easy, BoBo. It’s not just about me… I’m not the only one involved.”
Yibo didn’t respond.
He just kept staring at Zhan.
Zhan’s voice trembled.
“I wanted to protect you. Even if it meant lying.”
He paused.
Noticing a change.
Zhan’s fingers trembled slightly.
His words slowed.
A strange light-headedness crept in.
And then—
His knees buckled as he tried to stand.
He lost his balance.
Yibo shot up and caught him before he hit the floor.
“Zhan-ge—”
Zhan looked up at him, dazed.
“Bo…bo… what… what’s happening?”
Yibo’s jaw clenched.
“Forgive me, Zhan… I had to do this.”
Zhan’s breath came shallow.
“No… don’t… don’t do anything reckless… listen to me, Bo—”
But the words never finished.
His body slumped forward.
Unconscious.
Yibo held him close, breath shaking.
And in that silence, he looked at Zhan’s coffee mug, now emptied, and then the memory hit him like a wave.
He had slipped the sedative pills into Zhan’s coffee while he was in the kitchen for tissues, watching him from across the room, careful not to be seen.
He laid Zhan gently down on the couch.
Moments later, two men entered the apartment.
Silent.
Efficient.
Yibo stood, voice tight.
“Take him to the old warehouse by the highway. Don’t let anyone see you. And don’t do anything that might harm him.”
They nodded and carefully carried Zhan out.
Yibo followed in his car.
And as he drove, his mind replayed the conversation from two nights ago…
Wang Zheng’s voice echoed in his mind.
“Son, I’ve always been strict with you because I wanted you to be strong. Less emotional, more practical. You were going to take over Wang Corps, and that’s no small responsibility.”
Yibo had heard that countless times, but tonight, the weight of it felt different.
“But if your heart is breaking like this, how can I stay peaceful? To understand the situation, let me talk to him. You bring him to me.”
Wang Zheng’s voice lowered, steady and deliberate.
“He might not come if you tell him directly that I want to talk to him. Trick him, Yibo. Find a way. Bring him.”
Yibo hesitated, his voice tight with resistance.
“No, Dad, that’s not right.”
Wang Zheng’s tone turned firm, even sharper.
“Did he do the right thing with you? No. So think practically, boy. And haven’t you heard? Everything is fair in war and love. Don’t consider it anything bad.”
Then, his voice softened slightly, almost contemplative.
“Didn’t you notice the rift between us started happening once that boy came between us, son? Before that, it was all good. So, we need to understand him—and his purpose—very well, if we’re to find clarity in all this.”
“If he’s innocent, he’ll talk. If not—he’s been using you from the start.”
“You want answers Yibo? Get them. Protect what’s yours.”
Yibo’s voice had been hollow when he replied.
“But we don’t hurt him. Promise me.”
Wang Zheng’s words softened, almost a whisper.
“Everything I’m doing is for you and the one you love. Why would I harm him, Yibo? You love that boy. That one reason is more than enough for me not to cause him any harm. Trust me boy. I can’t see you in pain. After all, I’m your father.”
Snapped out of his memory, his hands tightened on the wheel, knuckles white.
His heart—was already breaking.
—————————————————
The van rolled up to the warehouse.
A dim, hidden structure tucked behind the highway, far from any wandering eyes.
Inside, Wang Zheng was waiting.
The men carried Zhan in and sat him—still unconscious—on a chair bolted to the floor.
Yibo stepped out of his car just as they settled Zhan inside.
He walked in and looked at his father.
“How are you going to question him, Dad?”
Wang Zheng turned to him with that calm smile.
“The way it needs to be done. Don’t worry my boy. This is the safest place to do this. Bringing him home could be risky. We still don’t know who he really is or who might be backing him.”
Yibo’s jaw tightened.
“I’ll stay.”
But Wang Zheng raised his hand.
“No, Yibo. If you’re here, he might hesitate to speak. Let me handle it.”
“I said I’ll stay…!”
Wang Zheng’s smile faded.
“You don’t trust me Yibo?”
Yibo looked at Zhan—still unconscious.
“Like I already promised you, no harm will come to him. But you have to trust me to do what’s right—for both of you.”
Wang Zheng’s tone was calm.
Reassuring.
Like any father trying to protect his son from difficult truths.
Yibo didn’t answer.
But eventually, with a last look at Zhan, he turned and walked away with a heavy heart.
———————————————————
Back home, Yibo tried to rest—but a strange restlessness clung to his chest.
He told himself Zhan would be fine.
That he is safe.
That his father had promised.
And yet… a feeling kept creeping in.
He stepped out onto the balcony, hoping the air would ease the weight pressing down on him.
That’s when he saw it—down below, near the garden pathway.
Wang Zheng was standing with two men.
His posture was rigid, his expression serious.
He handed them a sealed envelope, spoke a few words.
The men nodded.
And left.
Yibo went downstairs and found his father in the hallway.
“What was that?”
Yibo asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.
Wang Zheng looked up, surprised.
“Zhan’s still unconscious. The sedative hasn’t worn off. I’ve arranged everything—food, water, warmth. He’s safe. Let him wake naturally. Then we’ll talk.”
Yibo nodded slowly.
But something felt off.
Yibo returned to his room.
But the image of Zhan’s unconscious face wouldn’t leave his mind.
He sat for a few minutes, something wouldn’t let him rest.
Something about it all didn’t sit right.
The unease grew stronger.
He walked to the balcony again, trying to breathe—but the air felt just as suffocating.
Finally, unable to take it anymore, he grabbed his coat and left.
As he stepped outside, he spotted the family driver pulling out in one of the black cars.
At midnight?
Yibo narrowed his eyes, then quickly got into his own car and began to follow from a distance.
The road was quiet, the city hushed.
They drove for a while, until Yibo realized they were heading toward the warehouse.
Yibo parked a little away from the compound and walked around the back, carefully.
The old building had a broken window panel near the rear.
Yibo crept up and peered through it.
And his heart nearly stopped.
Zhan is tied to a chair!
Head bowed.
But he isn’t unconscious anymore.
Wang Zheng entered the room.
He stood in front of Zhan, and for a moment… said nothing.
Then one of the men handed Wang Zheng something—a blunt object.
Heavy. Not sharp.
And without warning,
Wang Zheng struck!
A loud, sickening thud.
Zhan’s body jolted from the impact.
The crack of the blow echoed like a gunshot.
Blood hit the floor.
Not a lot.
But enough to make Yibo’s heart race, his breath catching in his chest.
His knees nearly gave out.
For a heartbeat, the world stood still.
His father had just hit his Zhan.
The man he still loves!
And now he is bleeding.
Yibo’s breath hitched—sharp, broken.
His fingers curled into fists.
He moved instinctively, ready to run in—
Ready to burn the place down if he had to.
But—
A hand slammed over his mouth and yanked him back.
Strong.
Silent.
Absolute.
Yibo struggled to pull away, panic rising in his chest.
But the voice beside his ear was cold and firm:
“If you go in now—he’ll kill both of you.”
Yibo’s heart pounded so loud he couldn’t hear anything else.
But all he could see is…
Zhan’s blood hitting the ground.
And all he could feel is,
The crushing weight of the worst mistake he’d ever made;
Trusting the only man he ever called—
Father.
[To be continued…]
The Red Ribbon 