BELONGING TO YOU

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The moment Brother Zhou said let's begin, the table went still. The crowd around them thickened, drawn by the scent of desperation and arrogance.

Curious eyes gleamed with the thrill of danger.

No one came to Blood Chess expecting mercy.

"Welcome to Blood Chess," Brother Zhou drawled, leaning back in his chair. His fingers drummed lazily against the edge of the crimson-etched board. "New blood, huh?"

Baotian was barely listening. The liquor still buzzed in his head. He was floating, ego stretched like a drum.

This was nothing. He'd bet in games before.

What was the worst that could happen?

"How do we play?"

"The rules are simple." Brother Zhou said, gesturing to the crimson board between them.

Blood Chess was a twisted hybrid of poker, blackjack, and bluffing. Each player received a deck of cards—black and red suits, numbered one through thirteen. The goal: build a hand of five cards closest to fifty. Each round, players could draw, fold, or raise the stakes with obsidian chips, property, or heirlooms.

Lose without payment? The house took blood.

The first round began.

Su Baotian fumbled with the cards, still smirking. He pulled low cards—bad hand.

His grin faltered.

"I win," Brother Zhou said smugly, revealing his cards.

Su Baotian blinked. "Tch. Whatever."

"Your stake?" Brother Zhou asked, already reaching for a wine glass.

Su Baotian reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys— his BMW it was a new model, a gift from his uncle.

"Here." He tossed them onto the table like they meant nothing.

His friends stirred behind him.

"Brother Tian, don't," murmured Wei Shaojin. "You've had too much to drink."

"Let him be," another muttered nervously. "He's stubborn when he's drunk."

Su Baotian waved them off. "Relax. I'm just warming up."

Second round.

The cards danced.

Brother Zhou played fast. Calculated. Precise.

Su Baotian bluffed. He grinned at every move. Even as sweat formed on his brow.

He lost. Again.

"What's next?" Brother Zhou said with a sneer.

Su Baotian pulled off his jade family ring—an heirloom passed down from his grandfather, said to be blessed.

He hesitated for just a moment before placing it on the table.

"Brother Tian!" Wei Shaojin hissed. "That's enough. We're going home. Right now."

Su Baotian's face darkened. "No. I'm winning the next one. I have to."

Third round.

Cards clacked.

Cheers rose for brother brother Zhou. Cries of disappointment for Su Baotian.

He lost.

Again.

"Last round, kid," Brother Zhou said coldly. "Got anything left?"

Su Baotian paled. "I… I don't…" He patted his pockets. Nothing. No cash, no cards, no tokens.

Not valuables.

Brother Zhou's expression dropped as he leaned forward, eyes glinting. "Then we do it the hard way."

Before Su Baotian could react, two burly men grabbed his arms, slamming them onto the table.

The crowd roared, some laughing, others watching with glee.

"Idiotic princeling."

"Did he think money could buy brains?"

"Stupid—this is Blood Chess, not a prep school debate."

One of the men pulled out a rusted cleaver that gleamed.

Su Baotian's vision spun—not from alcohol, but from the cold realization sinking into his bones.

His chest tightened. His heart pounded against his ribs.

The alcohol haze was gone.

Just like that—sobriety slammed into him.

The room no longer felt like a game.

It was real. It was too real.

"Wait! WAIT!" he cried out, his voice cracking. "You can't—!"

"Quiet," Brother Zhou snapped.

The cleaver rose.

Su Baotian's eyes widened. "Wait—WAIT!" he screamed.

"Hold him," Brother Zhou commanded.

His men grabbed Su Baotian's arms, slamming them against the table.

"Hold still. We'll only need one finger," one of them sneered.

The surrounding crowd erupted in laughter and morbid curiosity.

"Is he seriously that dumb?" someone snickered.

"Idiot doesn't know who he's messing with."

"Thought he could beat Brother Zhou? What a joke."

Su Baotian thrashed. "Please! Don't do this!"

The man raised the cleaver.

—

"STOP."

The voice cut through the noise like a blade.

Everyone turned.

Three tall foreign black men stood at the casino entrance.

The crowd immediately backed away, whispers spreading like wildfire.

Brother Zhou rose to his feet, visibly startled. "B-Boss Walter."

The man in the center stepped forward, expression unreadable, his presence swallowing the room whole.

People made way instinctively as they whispered.

"What's going on?"

"Why is Boss Walter here?"

"He rarely come. This is my second time to see him."

"What's going on here?" Walter asked coldly.

Brother Zhou bowed slightly. "Old problem. He lost. Has nothing to pay with."

Walter's eyes landed on Baotian. Su Baotian was trembling now, on his knees.

"Please…" he begged. "Save me… I'll do anything. I'll be your dog if I have to. Just don't let them take my fingers."

The room held its breath.

Walter studied him. Then, without a word, he nodded.

Brother Zhou's men hesitated.

"I SAID RELEASE HIM," Walter snapped.

Immediately, Su Baotian was let go. He crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath.

"Thank you… thank you so much," he mumbled.

Brother Zhou licked his lips, nervous now. "Boss… do you know him?"

Walter ignored him. Instead, he turned to one of his men.

"Lance."

There was a beat—a look passed between them.

A knowing glance.

Like a silent understanding had been spoken through the air.

"Clean up."

Lance nodded, his eyes glinting.

He moved toward Brother Zhou with quiet menace.

"Boss, I didn't know—please, I didn't know you knew him!" Brother Zhou started begging.

Lance moved silently toward brother Zhou.

"Boss—please—" brother Zhou began, but Walter raised a hand.

He looked down at Su Baotian. "You said you'd do anything?"

Su Baotian nodded furiously. "Anything."

Walter turned. "Follow me."

Su Baotian got up shakily. He turned to his friends. "Go on ahead. I'll catch up."

Wei Shaojin was hesitant. "You sure, brother Tian?"

One of Walter's men stepped forward. "Boss only wants a word."

They nodded, unsure, and walked away.

—

Walter led Su Baotian toward the back of the casino.

They reached a corner where an elevator stood hidden behind a decorative curtain.

It opened with a soft ding.

Walter stepped in. Su Baotian followed.

His stomach churned. What am I walking into?

Following a stranger? He'd saved him, right?

What if he killed him... What if...

However, it was better than his fingers chopped.

The elevator rose. In the silence, Walter spoke.

"You sure about what you said?"

Su Baotian nodded quickly. "Yes. You saved my life. I'll repay it."

Walter said nothing more.

The elevator dinged open.

They stepped into a high-security floor. Dozens of men in black suits stood at attention. Weapons visible. Cold eyes sharper than knives.

"Boss," they greeted in unison.

Baotian flinched. What kind of place is this?

One man opened a tall door, revealing a sprawling luxurious office—black marble floors, dark wooden shelves lined with leather-bound books, steel accents, and a massive aquarium and an antique gun rack behind the desk.

Power radiated from every corner.

It smelled of gun oil and imported cigars.

Walter sat on a leather couch, gesturing for Su Baotian to do the same.

Still trembling, Su Baotian sat.

Walter turned his gaze on him. "Your name?"

"Su Baotian."

A flicker crossed Walter's eyes.

"The Minister of Internal Affairs' last son?"

Su Baotian blinked. "How do you know that?"

Walter smirked. "Your father is a powerful man. But small details like that… are easy to find."

He leaned back.

"You said you'd do anything."

Su Baotian's mouth went dry.

"Yes."

"Good," Walter said softly, "Because I just saved your life. Now I want something in return."

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