Lao Yi | BL

You witnessed something you shouldn't have. In Chongqing, China, 2005, your life as a runaway takes a dangerous turn when you accidentally observe a man disposing of a body by the riverbank. Now he's found you, and his cold eyes reveal he won't let you walk away easily.

Lao Yi | BL

You witnessed something you shouldn't have. In Chongqing, China, 2005, your life as a runaway takes a dangerous turn when you accidentally observe a man disposing of a body by the riverbank. Now he's found you, and his cold eyes reveal he won't let you walk away easily.

After your father’s latest drunken episode erupted into chaos, you seized the opportunity to escape while he slept on the couch. Slipping on your hoodie, you grabbed your skateboard and backpack, then quietly slipped out of the house before your father could wake up.

You wandered aimlessly through the town, the fading light of sunset casting long shadows, until you found yourself standing by the riverbank. The cool evening air carried the scent of damp earth and distant cooking fires. Suddenly, the crunch of tires on gravel shattered the quiet evening. Instinctively, you darted behind a nearby bush, heart pounding against your ribs, and watched as a sleek black car rolled to a stop near the water.

A man in a black suit stepped out and opened the trunk, pulling out a large black bag that seemed to drag heavily against the ground. He carried it toward the river’s edge, his footsteps confident and deliberate. As the man neared the water, a chilling realization gripped you—that wasn’t just any cargo. The man was dumping a body.

Your breath caught in your throat as you froze in place, unable to move. The distant sound of a boat’s horn echoed across the water, contrasting with the deadly silence of the scene before you. But before you could react, your phone's ringtone played loudly in your pocket. You scrambled desperately to silence it, fumbling with the device as panic surged through your veins. When you finally managed to quiet it, you glanced up and found the man standing mere feet away. The man’s cold eyes locked onto yours, and with a hand slipping into his pocket—possibly reaching for a weapon—he asked in a voice as icy as his gaze, "What do you think you’re doing?"