Nothing Feels Safe
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
The bookstore had been shut for five days, until Yibo told him not to.
So, Zhan opened it again.
The familiar scent of old paper and coffee hit him the moment he unlocked the door.
Dust motes danced in the soft afternoon light, as if the place had been holding its breath while he was gone.
He trailed his fingers along the counter, feeling the faint stickiness of neglected wood, and for the first time in days, the quiet didn’t feel heavy.
By the time he flipped the sign to OPEN, the street outside was still and sunlit.
Zhan slipped into the familiar rhythm, dusting the shelves and wiping the counter that hadn’t felt his hands in days.
He straightened a row of paperbacks that leaned into each other like they’d grown tired of waiting.
Somewhere outside, a scooter buzzed past, and for a moment it felt like the world had forgotten this little corner.
But he didn’t mind.
The quiet suited him, even if his thoughts weren’t quiet at all.
A few regulars trickled in after that, pretending to browse but slipping in little remarks—
Was everything okay? We missed our corner of peace.
Zhan only smiled, arranging a stack of books, letting the soft hum of normalcy wrap around him.
It was a quiet afternoon at the bookstore, the kind Zhan had started to find comfort in.
But his mind wasn’t quiet.
Not since the last time he saw Yibo.
The ache of it still sat heavy in his chest, and every minute since, he’d been thinking, what else could he do?
What could he possibly do next to get Yibo out of that house?
A soft playlist hummed in the background, mingling with the rustle of pages and the occasional chime of the entrance bell.
Three customers browsed the shelves.
An older woman flipping through cookbooks near the entrance, a teenager buried in a graphic novel by the window, and a man in a brown coat standing at the corner shelf, thumbing through poetry.
The bell above the door chime again.
Zhan looked up from behind the counter, automatically offering his usual smile.
A tall man stepped inside, his presence oddly stiff, the kind that made the air tighten.
Middle-aged, broad-shouldered, with hard lines on his face.
He looked like someone used to giving orders, not browsing books.
“Hello.”
Zhan greeted, voice calm but professional.
“Let me know if you need help finding anything.”
The man didn’t answer.
He stood in the center of the room, eyes scanning the shop, not the books, but the people.
Then his gaze landed on Zhan.
It stayed there.
Zhan’s smile faded slightly, confusion pinching his brow.
Something about the way the man looked at him… unblinking, assessing… felt off.
The man stepped closer.
“You’re Xiao Zhan?”
Zhan nodded cautiously.
“Yes. I am.”
“I’m Wang Jinfa. Yibo’s father.”
It hit like a stone to the chest.
Zhan’s fingers tensed slightly on the edge of the counter.
He blinked, the name ringing too clearly in his mind.
“Wang Jinfa… Bo’s father. So, this is him… the man who had beaten him without any mercy.”
The man’s posture was military straight, his voice laced with restrained aggression.
Not loud.
Not angry.
But something colder.
Like frost forming under skin.
“We need to talk, Xiao Zhan.”
Zhan glanced at the customers – still browsing, unaware of the storm that just entered.
He straightened, steadying himself.
“Of course.”
He said quietly, gesturing toward a quieter spot near the side wall, away from the others.
“This way, sir.”
Wang Jinfa didn’t move right away.
He kept watching Zhan as if waiting for a mask to slip.
Finally, he followed.
Once they stood at a small distance, Zhan kept his tone respectful.
“Is Yibo… alright?”
Jinfa scoffed.
“He will be, once he is away from you.”
Zhan swallowed, keeping his composure.
“Sir, I don’t think this is the place—”
“You think I care about your little shop?”
Jinfa’s voice was low but sharp.
“You’re the reason he’s changed. You’re in his head, turning him against his own blood.”
“That’s not true.”
Zhan replied, still soft, still holding back.
“Yibo is—”
“He is just confused!”
Jinfa cut him off.
“He’s always been headstrong, but lately? This rebellion? This attitude? It started with you.”
Zhan took a quiet breath.
The corners of his lips were trembling, but he held them firm.
“Yibo is not rebelling, sir. He’s… trying to live.”
Jinfa’s eyes narrowed, voice laced with quiet disdain.
“You don’t need to teach me about my own damn kid. I’ve known him since the day he was born, long before you ever laid eyes on him. Don’t stand there pretending you understand what he needs, or what he likes.”
He took a step closer, his gaze slicing like a blade.
“You think your fake loving words and tossing around your cheap affection make you know him better than I do? Spare me the lecture, boy!”
His voice turned colder, jaw tight.
“I raised that boy. I know him better than anyone. You being around for a little while doesn’t change that. So stop acting like you matter here.”
Zhan looked at Jinfa.
“Sir, you can think whatever you want about me. But know that Yibo is hurting.”
Zhan said carefully, but his voice didn’t waver.
“And all I care about is making sure he’s okay.”
Jinfa leaned in slightly, voice now like steel.
“Who are you to make sure he’s okay, huh?”
Zhan didn’t answer.
Jinfa’s glare sharpened.
“You’re making him worse. You’re filling his head with garbage. That’s not love, it’s poison.”
His voice was hard, like he truly believed every word.
“My son needs treatment. He needs to come back to his senses, not have someone like you keeping him lost.”
Zhan flinched, not at the words but at the sheer venom in them.
He swallowed hard, then said quietly but firmly.
“I’m not confusing him. I’m standing by him. That’s it.”
“That’s exactly the problem!”
Jinfa’s voice finally rose, enough that one customer glanced over curiously.
Zhan quickly stepped in.
“Sir.”
He said with firm politeness.
“I understand you’re upset. But please… this isn’t the place for this kind of conversation.”
Jinfa’s mouth curled into a bitter smirk.
“I don’t give a damn where we are. I only care about my son and keeping trash like you away from him.”
“So listen carefully… stay the hell away from him! If I even hear that you’ve gone near him again, I’ll make sure you both regret it. And trust me, he’ll regret it more.”
He sneered, voice dropping to a venomous whisper.
“I don’t know what you pulled on him. Did you mess with his head? Or did you just crawl into bed with him and turn him into your little puppet? Is that it? You made him sleep with you, huh? Is that why he’s clinging to you like some lovesick fool?”
The words hit like a slap.
Zhan’s jaw tightened, his face burning not with shame, but humiliation.
He took a breath, kept his voice steady.
“Sir, that’s enough. You’re crossing the line now.”
Jinfa let out a bitter laugh.
“Crossing the line?”
He leaned in, eyes sharp.
“You’re the one crossing lines and dragging my son with you. Don’t act innocent.”
Zhan’s face tightened, a flicker of disbelief flashing in his eyes.
His throat clenched, but he said nothing, stunned more by the depth of Jinfa’s accusation than the words themselves.
Jinfa didn’t stop.
His voice turned sharper.
“He’s younger than you. You think I don’t see what this is? You tricked him. Lured him in. Don’t stand here pretending like he just ‘fell in love.’ You set a trap and he walked right into it.”
Then he took a slow step forward, voice dropping but growing colder.
“You know what I think? You should get treatment too. Seriously. Get it, get cured and move on with your life. It’s not too late to fix yourself.”
Zhan’s face flinched, but Jinfa didn’t stop.
“As for Bobo, I’m already looking into fixing his marriage. A good girl. A real future. Once he’s married, this disgusting phase will pass. He’ll forget all about you. And I won’t let some pathetic distraction be the thing that drags him back into this filth.”
Zhan’s chest tightened, heart thudding painfully.
“I didn’t spend years breaking my back, driving through rain and blood and exhaustion, giving up everything even my own peace and happiness, just to watch my son throw it all away for someone like you.”
A pause.
“You’re not his future, Xiao Zhan. You’re his biggest mistake, and you’ll end up being the biggest disaster of his life.”
Jinfa’s voice was low, cold and final.
“And I will never let you ruin him. If cutting you out is what it takes to bring him back to his senses, then so be it. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect Bobo. I hope my message is loud and clear.”
His eyes burned with finality, his jaw set like stone.
“I don’t care what you think this is, or what fantasy he’s trapped in. It ends. Right here. Right now.”
He took a step closer, voice low and sharp like a blade.
“If you keep pushing this, I swear… next time, I’ll show up at your house and talk to your parents myself. If they’re not okay with this kind of sickness, I’ll make sure they put a leash on you. And if they don’t or if you still don’t stop—”
His tone dropped into a cold, lethal threat.
“Then I won’t hesitate to end you, so my son can live a better life… and never regret the jail time I’ll serve for it.”
Zhan didn’t argue.
There was no point, nothing he said would make this man understand what he and Yibo truly had.
He just stood there, holding back the shaking in his hands.
Fury, frustration, and disappointment churned in his chest, but he swallowed it all down.
For Yibo, because one wrong word… and this man would take it out on him.
So Zhan stayed quiet even when everything in him wanted to scream.
Wang Jinfa gave one last glare, then turned and left the shop, the bell above the door jangling loudly in his wake.
Zhan remained frozen.
His lungs felt tight.
His fingers numb.
Across the room, the customers kept reading, unaware that the earth had shifted just a little under his feet.
————————————————————-
Evening settled softly over the Xiao household, the living room dimly lit with the warm glow of a floor lamp.
A pot of chrysanthemum tea sat between Xiao Guoqiang and Liu Fang on the small wooden table, steam curling lazily into the air.
Neither of them reached for their cups.
The clock on the wall ticked quietly.
Outside, a dog barked somewhere in the neighborhood, but inside, the silence had weight.
Liu Fang finally broke it, her voice hesitant and quiet.
“What do you think we should do?”
Xiao Guoqiang sighed through his nose.
His eyes fixed on the swirl of tea in his untouched cup.
“Even I’m as confused as you are, Liu.”
He said softly.
“Zhan’s already hurting. I don’t want to say anything that’ll hurt him more right now.”
Liu Fang leaned back into the sofa, her arms wrapped around herself like a shield.
“I’m scared… of what people will say.”
She admitted.
“Our relatives, friends… it’s not that simple, Guoqiang. Even though I didn’t say anything to him that day, I… I’m still struggling to accept what he told us.”
“We really can’t fight the whole world.”
She added softly.
“We’re not strong enough for that.”
Her voice trembled slightly at the end, but she held it together.
Xiao Guoqiang didn’t respond right away.
His eyes lingered on a framed photo of Zhan as a small boy… grinning wide, front teeth missing, clutching Xiao Guoqiang and Liu Fang’s hands like they were his whole world.
He finally said.
“Liu, we give it time. Let the dust settle. Yibo’s father, he seems… volatile. It’s not safe to push right now. We should tell Zhan the same, just… wait.”
Liu Fang nodded slowly, fingers tightening around her shawl.
“Time.”
She echoed, almost to herself.
“But how long? And what if things get worse?”
Xiao Guoqiang placed a gentle hand over hers.
“Some things aren’t in our control, Liu.”
He said quietly.
“And sometimes… the best thing we can do is stand still and let life unfold. We can’t turn our backs on him now, not when he needs us the most. Whether we can accept his relationship or not… it doesn’t matter right now. The rest… we’ll figure it out. When it comes.”
Liu Fang exhaled deeply, her shoulders sagging.
Her eyes were glassy, but she blinked the tears back.
“He is our son. That’s what matters most. And at the end of the day… I just want him safe. I just want him to be okay.”
The two of them sat in that heavy, fragile silence again… bound by love, fear, and the helplessness of not knowing what came next.
————————————————————
The dinning room lights were dim.
Zhang Meilan and Wang Jinfa sat at the table, eating dinner in silence.
The clink of chopsticks against porcelain was the only sound for a while.
Yibo hadn’t joined them.
He barely did these days.
Most of the time, he stayed in his room.
Door shut, earphones in, lost in his own world.
He lay on his bed, one arm folded behind his head, the other holding his phone close.
He’d unlocked it, and just stared.
The home-screen lit up with a photo of Zhan… laughing, mid-blink, caught on a sunny afternoon.
His thumb brushed the edge of the screen as if touching Zhan’s face through it might somehow ease the ache inside.
Zhang Meilan sighed, looking toward the hallway.
“He didn’t even come out today. Barely said a word to me from morning.”
Wang Jinfa didn’t look up.
He chewed slowly, then finally spoke.
Loudly enough to make sure his words reached the quiet rooms beyond.
“I met that bookstore guy today.”
He said with a sharp tone.
“Told him exactly what he needed to hear.”
Yibo, lying on his bed with his arm across his eyes, stiffened.
The words cut through the thin walls easily.
“If he’s not smart enough to back off…”
Jinfa continued, even louder now.
“….next time I won’t be this polite.”
Yibo sat up, jaw clenched.
His fingers trembled as he immediately checked his phone, opened the chat with Zhan.
No recent messages.
Not even a ‘Your father came to see me.’
Just silence.
His heart pounded harder, fingers curling tightly into a fist.
He wanted to storm out of his room, to yell, to demand what the hell his father had done… but instead, he sat there.
Burning.
The weight in his chest tightened.
He held it in, jaw clenched and waited patiently, tensely until midnight.
And when the house finally slipped into quiet, he called Zhan.
The line barely rang before it was answered.
“Ge…”
Yibo’s voice was low, tight in his throat.
“Did Ba come to the store today?”
There was a small pause.
A breath.
Then Zhan answered, voice soft.
“Yeah. He came.”
Yibo sat up slowly, his hand pressed to his forehead.
“Shit… What did he say? Did he say anything bad?”
Zhan hesitated.
He didn’t want to repeat all the humiliating things Jinfa had thrown at him as Yibo was already carrying too much.
He didn’t need to feel guilty about this too.
So he chose his words carefully.
“He… gave me a warning, Bo. Told me to stay away from you.”
Yibo didn’t say anything, his jaw clenching.
Zhan continued gently.
“He thinks I need help. That I’m the one turning you against them.”
A sharp curse left Yibo under his breath.
“And what did you say?”
“I tried to talk to him.”
Zhan said quietly.
“Tried to explain. But he wasn’t really listening. So, I just… kept quiet. Sometimes that’s the only thing you can do, Bo. No point trying to talk sense into someone who’s already made up their mind.”
Yibo was silent for a few seconds, then murmured.
“If he said anything rude to you… I’m sorry, Ge.”
“Bo, don’t be.”
He said quietly.
“It wasn’t good. But I’m okay. Don’t worry about that right now.”
Zhan said.
“I think I should start getting used to this. Because it’s not gonna be easy from here… for either of us. But you…”
He paused.
“…you have to stay calm. Let your father calm down.”
“I’m trying, ge.”
Yibo said.
“But it’s hard when he talks about you like you’re something rotten. Like just loving you means there’s something wrong with me.”
Zhan didn’t respond right away.
Just a soft sigh crackled through the line.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Bo. Not for loving me. Don’t let anyone make you believe that. He can say whatever he wants… but what we have isn’t wrong. It never was.”
A pause.
“I just want you to be safe, Bo. I don’t want him raising his hand on you anymore.”
Yibo ran a hand through his hair.
“Ge… I wanna see you.”
Zhan let out a soft, sad laugh.
“I’ve been dying to see you too, Bo. But I don’t even know how we’d do that right now.”
They both went quiet.
Yibo could hear the faint hum of Zhan’s ceiling fan on the other side of the call.
It was the kind of silence that made your chest ache.
Finally, Yibo said.
“Alright, ge. We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah? Can’t stay on too long tonight.”
“Take care, Bo… Love you. And don’t worry, okay? Let me think, we’ll find a way to meet, baobei.”
Zhan whispered.
“Hmm. Love you too, Ge.”
Yibo didn’t hang up right away.
He waited until he heard Zhan’s quiet breath on the line, then slowly let go.
The call ended, but the ache didn’t.
Yibo sat there, still holding the phone to his chest.
Somewhere across the city, Zhan probably lay just as restless.
Jinfa’s threats didn’t scare him, not even the part about losing his life.
If it was for Yibo, he’d accept it without hesitation.
The only thing that haunted him now was Yibo’s safety… knowing that man still shared a roof with him.
———————————————
Both staring at the ceiling, lost in the same ache.
The kind that made them wonder if they’d ever go back to those stolen mornings and shared laughter… when they could meet, touch, kiss… without fear.
Wondering if they’d ever get back to the days when seeing each other didn’t feel like a crime.
When touching wasn’t a risk.
When love didn’t come with this kind of cost.
Outside, the night wind rustled faintly against the windowpane, as if carrying their unspoken hopes into the dark.
[To be continued…]
——————————————
Author’s Note:
Heyyy, you made it to the end of the chapter! 😄
Hope you enjoyed it — and if you did, please don’t forget to like & comment on my Insta post. 💖
Think of it as your way of telling me, “Hey, I’m here, and I loved it!” — it means the world to me and truly keeps me inspired to write more for you! ✨
The Red Ribbon 