Tòumíng stared at the bed, then at Měi Nán, then back at the bed. His brain was doing calculations. If this Pàng Hǔ guy showed up looking for a fight, that was combat experience. Potentially enough to unlock another skill. Maybe even level up his existing ones.
The risk-reward math was actually working out in favor of letting Měi Nán stay.
"Fine. You can have the bed."
"We can share the bed," Měi Nán corrected, already walking toward the bedroom with the confidence of someone who'd won this negotiation before it started.
"I'll take the couch."
"The couch with mystery stains that you very obviously flipped the cushions to hide? Yeah, no. We're both adults. We can share a bed without it being weird."
Tòumíng followed him into the bedroom, watching as Měi Nán approached the bed and immediately started stripping. The oversized sweater came off first, revealing a slim torso, smooth skin, the kind of deliberate aesthetic maintenance that came from professional presentation.
"WHOA WHOA WHOA!" Tòumíng's face went hot, his hands shooting up to cover his eyes. "What are you doing?!"
Měi Nán paused, one hand on the waistband of his jeans, looking at Tòumíng like he was insane. "Getting comfortable? I'm not sleeping in jeans. That's psychopath behavior."
"You can't just—you can't strip in front of—we barely know each other!"
"You've seen me naked."
"THAT WAS DIFFERENT! THAT WAS AN ALLEY! THIS IS A BEDROOM!"
"The location doesn't change my body parts."
"Just—" Tòumíng kept his hands over his eyes, face burning. "Just keep your pants on! Please!"
Měi Nán laughed, genuinely amused. "You're serious right now? You want me to sleep in jeans?"
"Wear... I don't know, underwear! Just not completely naked!"
"Fine, fine." The sound of a zipper, fabric rustling. "You can look now, gentleman."
Tòumíng peeked through his fingers. Měi Nán stood there in just black boxer briefs, the jeans and sweater folded neatly on the floor. Still mostly naked, but technically covered.
"Happy?" Měi Nán asked, climbing onto the bed.
"Not the word I'd use."
"You know," Měi Nán settled against the pillows, looking at Tòumíng with something like genuine appreciation, "I have to commend you. Most guys who let me into their apartment at 6 AM would absolutely try to take advantage of the situation. But you're being a complete gentleman about it. That's... actually really sweet."
Tòumíng lowered his hands, confused. "Isn't that just basic human decency? Who the hell lets a scared stranger into their home and then tries to sleep with them?"
"You'd be surprised." Měi Nán's expression softened. "In my line of work, you learn pretty quick that decency isn't as common as you'd think."
"That's depressing."
"That's reality." He patted the other side of the bed. "Come on. Get some sleep. You look like you've had a rough night too."
Tòumíng looked at the fourteen bullet scars on his torso. "You could say that."
He climbed onto the bed, staying as far on his side as physically possible, practically hanging off the edge. The mattress dipped under their combined weight, creating a subtle slope that wanted to roll them toward the center.
Měi Nán turned onto his side, facing away, and within minutes his breathing had evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep. Apparently running from an obsessive client all night was exhausting.
Tòumíng stayed sitting up, back against the headboard, eyes on the door. Waiting. His new "Suicidal Idiot" title's decreased fear of death made the prospect of another fight feel less terrifying and more... interesting. Combat experience. Skill gains. A chance to test his limits.
Plus, the idea of some musclebound gang member thinking he could just show up and intimidate him was kind of insulting.
At 6:33 AM, Měi Nán's phone erupted with a ringtone some pop song Tòumíng didn't recognize, way too cheerful for the situation.
Měi Nán jolted awake, grabbing for the phone on the nightstand, eyes wide with panic when he saw the caller ID.
"It's him," he whispered. "Pàng Hǔ. I should just ignore—"
"Pick it up." Tòumíng's voice was calm, certain.
"What? No! If I answer he'll—"
"I'll handle it. Trust me." Tòumíng held out his hand for the phone.
Měi Nán stared at him like he'd suggested juggling grenades. "You're crazy."
"You already established that. Phone."
Something in Tòumíng's expression, maybe the scars, maybe the abs, maybe just the sheer confidence of someone who'd survived fourteen gunshots twelve hours ago made Měi Nán comply. He handed over the phone, biting his lip nervously.
Tòumíng noticed, with a twinge of jealousy, that it was an even nicer model than his. Probably the latest release. Definitely cost more than his Redmi.
He swiped to answer and put it on speaker.
Heavy breathing filled the room immediately. Ragged, desperate, the sound of someone who'd been crying or running or both.
"Darling? Mei babe?" The voice was deep, rough, cracking with emotion. "Please. Please come back. I'm sorry about the hotel. I'm sorry I got angry. I just—I love you so much. I can't think straight without you. You're everything to me. My whole world. Please just tell me where you are and I'll come get you and we can talk this through and—"
"He's busy, lil bro." Tòumíng kept his tone casual, almost bored.
Silence on the other end. Complete, shocked silence.
Then: "Who the FUCK is this?!"
"A friend."
"PUT MEI ON THE PHONE RIGHT NOW!"
"Like I said. Busy." Tòumíng grinned, the Suicidal Idiot title influencing him, making him reckless, making him enjoy this. "Can't really talk right now. We're kinda in the middle of something."
Měi Nán's eyes went wide, his hand flying to his mouth.
"YOU BASTARD!" Pàng Hǔ's voice exploded through the speaker, raw with rage. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! THAT'S MY DARLING! MY MEI! GET YOUR HANDS OFF HIM OR I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL—"
"You'll what?" Tòumíng's grin widened. "Come over here and do something about it?"
"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! I'LL RIP YOU APART! I'LL MAKE YOU WISH YOU'D NEVER BEEN BORN! LEAVE MY DARLING ALONE!"
"Here's the thing though," Tòumíng said, his voice dropping lower, more taunting. "He doesn't seem to want to leave right now. In fact, he's practically begging for all my attention. Can't get enough. Really clingy, actually. You should've treated him better when you had the chance."
Měi Nán made a strangled sound that was half shock, half something else entirely. His face was bright red.
The breathing on the other end of the line changed. Got colder. More controlled. The rage condensing into something sharper, more focused.
"Listen to me very carefully," Pàng Hǔ said, his voice deadly serious now, all the desperate pleading gone. "I don't know who you are. I don't know where you are. But I'm going to find out. And when I do—when I find you—you better pray to whatever gods you believe in. Because I'm going to kill you. Slowly. Painfully. I'm going to make you regret every word you just said. Every second you spent with him. Do you understand me?"
Tòumíng felt the challenge settle into his bones like electricity. The Suicidal Idiot title whispered that this was a great idea, that fighting was always the answer, that fear was for people who could actually die.
"You don't even have to bother looking," he said, his grin turning feral. "I'll save you the trouble. I'm going to give you the address right now."
"What?" Měi Nán grabbed his arm. "Don't—"
"401 Prefecture Zing Residence. Ground floor, unit 11A." Tòumíng said each word clearly, precisely, making sure Pàng Hǔ caught every syllable. "Got that? Or do you need me to repeat it?"
Silence. Then the sound of something being written down.
"You're fucking dead," Pàng Hǔ said.
"Looking forward to it." Tòumíng's voice was pure confidence, pure reckless certainty. "Pull up, bitch."
He hung up.
The room fell silent except for their breathing and the distant sounds of the city waking up outside.
Měi Nán stared at him with an expression that combined horror, disbelief, and something that might have been arousal if you squinted.
"You just..." he started. "You just gave a violent, obsessive gang member your address."
"Our address technically. You're staying here now."
"He's going to come here and try to kill you!"
"Yeah." Tòumíng handed back the phone. "That's kind of the plan."