Seth's memory hadn't failed him. After driving along the small road for another ten minutes or so, a dilapidated, abandoned factory appeared in front of him.
He parked the car and turned off the engine.
He glanced at the pale-faced boy beside him and said concisely, "Get out."
The tie had already been thrown aside. After having a small bite to eat earlier, he hadn't bothered to tie the boy up again.
Seth would never admit this was a soft spot in his heart—he simply thought that with such a weak prey, there was no need to make a big production out of it.
.
It matched.
Everything he had imagined was right.
An abandoned factory. A twisted killer…
Fang Chen's face had lost all color. His whole body trembled with cold, and horrifying bloody scenes kept flashing through his mind. He clenched his teeth so hard he wanted to faint on the spot.
The man had already gotten out of the car, expressionless, looking at him through the window as if silently urging him.
Inside the silent car, he could almost hear his own heartbeat—thump-thump-thump—each beat almost leaping out of his throat.
Fang Chen was struggling to breathe. His throat was dry and rough, and he swallowed with difficulty, only to taste the bitter dryness spreading in his mouth.
He shakily reached out to open the car door. The moment his foot touched the ground, his legs went weak, and he nearly fell.
Fortunately, a pair of large hands reached out and pulled him upright. Overhead, the man's low voice sounded: "Can't even stand properly?"
Dazed, Fang Chen looked up and met the man's gray-blue eyes, calm and indifferent.
He didn't have time to speak before, in the next second, his body was lifted into the air, the man had picked him up.
Fang Chen was startled, instinctively clutching at the man's clothes, afraid of falling. "What are you doing?"
"Waiting for you to dawdle inside, and the rain will start soon."
The man held Fang Chen like a small toy and strode forward effortlessly. Fang Chen, tense from head to toe, palms sweaty, stiffened even more.
As soon as they entered the factory, a sudden clap of thunder startled Fang Chen. His body trembled, and he instinctively gripped the man's clothes tighter.
Seth glanced down at him, saying nothing.
Afraid of thunder too.
Growing up almost entirely in a boxing ring, Seth couldn't understand how someone could be so delicate and timid, and so frail. Holding him, he hardly felt the weight.
Fang Chen watched from a distance as lightning tore open the night sky, followed immediately by a torrential downpour.
It was really raining.
He froze.
So the man had really just brought him here to avoid the rain?
While he was lost in thought, the man had already carried him inside and found an empty spot. His voice was calm: "Are you going to hold onto me like this all night?"
Fang Chen came back to his senses and realized the man had let go. He was the one still clinging tightly to the man's clothes.
Panicking, he scrambled down.
He recalled that when the man had been holding him, his body had been pressed against the man's chest, hard and muscular in parts.
Fang Chen worried.
He hoped the man didn't think he was a punching bag.
"Tonight there's heavy rain. The car can't move, so we'll stay here for one night," the man said calmly. "I won't tie you up, but you better behave."
Hearing that, Fang Chen nodded like a little chicken pecking at rice, his ears flopping with his movements.
The man looked at him for two more seconds, then casually sat down against a wall, arms folded, eyes half-closed.
Fang Chen didn't dare breathe. Only after seeing the man seemingly fall asleep did he let out a small sigh. After some deliberation, he chose a spot a bit farther away from the man to sit.
But no matter how he sat, it was uncomfortable. Fang Chen twisted and turned to adjust, reaching behind to tug at the tail of his outfit.
So many thrilling events had happened in a few hours that Fang Chen hadn't even noticed he was still wearing the little lamb costume.
Wearing it was one thing, but the tail on the back was annoying. It was fine curling up in the sports car, but sitting on flat ground made it feel foreign and awkward.
After a few unsuccessful attempts to remove it, he suddenly heard the man speak coldly: "Does your butt hurt? Can't sit properly?"
Fang Chen whipped his head around and realized the man had opened his eyes, staring down at him intently.
"N-No," Fang Chen said softly. "It's just that there's a tail on my pants, and it's uncomfortable to sit."
The man looked at him, then suddenly stood and came over, towering above him. "Turn around. Let me see."
Fang Chen pressed his lips together and nervously turned, back to the man.
In the next second, his body stiffened.
The man's large hands rested on his waist. Through the fabric, Fang Chen could feel the heat underneath.
Then the pants were lifted slightly, and the tail was tugged up.
Fang Chen's heart jumped to his throat. He regretted making things so complicated. As a kidnapped prey on the brink of death, was all this really necessary? What if he angered the man?
All sorts of wild thoughts filled his mind. But in the next second, the man withdrew his hand. His voice was calm: "Done."
With a small knife, Seth cut the tail off the pants. Holding the little tuft in his hand, he paused for two seconds, then coolly pocketed the lamb tail.
Fang Chen hesitated, then softly said thanks.
Thanking a kidnapper felt odd.
But looking at the man, it seemed he had fully accepted it.
The air fell silent again.
Outside, the rain continued to pour, hitting the tin roof loudly.
Fang Chen huddled, holding his legs, sitting in the corner.
The man was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly stepped outside.
Fang Chen froze.
With this heavy rain, what is he going out for?
At the same time, his heart raced. The man was gone—could he take this chance to escape?
Fang Chen hurriedly stood up, scanning the area for something to use as a weapon. That way, if he ran into the man while escaping, he could defend himself.
He hadn't really looked around the abandoned factory. It seemed to have been a textile factory, with some machines stacked in the corners.
Perhaps he could find a wrench.
Hit the man on the head with it.
But it was too dark. He could barely see and had to rely on touch.
When Seth returned with the jacket, he saw the little lamb pawing around in the dark. He raised an eyebrow, likely guessing what the mischievous boy was doing.
He didn't get angry. Instead, he watched with interest.
The little lamb was thin but had flesh where it counted. His round, firm butt stretched the pants, visible as a small white spot in the dark.
Seth's eyes darkened. He reached into his pocket, holding the freshly cut little tail, gently pinching the small fluff.
Fang Chen was being watched the whole time, completely unaware, still searching for a weapon. Suddenly, a flash of lightning illuminated the area. It revealed a textile rack, stained a dark red as if soaked in blood.
Thunder roared.
Fang Chen's face paled, terrified. Just then, someone pressed lightly on his shoulder.
"Ah!"
He cried out and spun around, almost falling into the man's chest.
Seth had just gone to the car for a jacket, soaked by the rain. His shirt was wet and almost transparent.
Fang Chen collided, his face almost buried in the man's chest.
It wasn't hard, but springy and soft. Fang Chen was stunned, taking two seconds before nervously lifting his head, stumbling backward, "I-I…"
He feared the man would tie him up again if angry.
But in the next second, the man draped his jacket over him. His indifferent gaze passed over Fang Chen as he glanced back, saying calmly, "This is a textile factory. Seeing red dye spilled around is normal—it's not blood."
Fang Chen visibly relaxed.
He had already been frightened enough. If he had encountered a real murder scene here, he might have fainted.
The man said nothing more, returning to his previous spot, eyes closed.
Fang Chen didn't dare run anymore. He looked at the man, then obediently curled up and sat back down like a little quail.
The rain outside had cooled the air, but with the jacket, he felt much warmer. He thought he would be on edge in this environment, but leaning against the wall, he quickly drifted into drowsiness.
The rain eased slightly.
The factory remained pitch dark. Seth sat lazily, pulling a cigarette from the pack and placing it in his mouth without lighting it.
To maintain his performance, Seth kept a regular schedule, but it was late now, and he felt no sleepiness. The tobacco scent lingered in his mouth, keeping his mind sharp.
He watched the small curled-up figure from afar. His jacket almost completely covered the boy, leaving only the tiny head exposed.
Sleeping so soundly under his watch, completely defenseless.
Seth frowned. He wondered again if the boy was just too skilled at disguise. He didn't seem like a "street rat," and he certainly wouldn't have evaded the police so many times otherwise.
A night without dreams.
Fang Chen slept drowsily, thinking he was in his own little bed. Stretching and turning over, he toppled onto the ground with a thud.
Dazed, he got up, glanced around, and remembered last night. He hung his head like a dejected puppy.
Still in the abandoned factory.
The man stood nearby, back turned, making a phone call.
"Seth, you left early yesterday. Did you catch the rat or not?"
Holding the phone, he turned and saw the little lamb on the ground looking up at him in a daze.
He tugged the corner of his mouth and said flatly, "No."
"Then why didn't you play a bit longer yesterday?"
"I had other matters. Hanging up."
Pocketing the phone, Seth strode over, standing over Fang Chen, looking down at him.
"All your tickets, where are they?"
A whole night was enough for Seth to make a decision.
If Fang Chen could keep up the act, stay as a cute little lamb, Seth wouldn't mind letting him off.
He could cover for the missing money later.
But after that, the little lamb would have to stay by his side and repay his debt slowly.
Fang Chen froze, quickly dug a ticket from his pocket, and handed it over.
Seth frowned, his voice darkening. "I said all the tickets."
Still not repentant at this point?
Fang Chen opened his mouth, grimacing, and quietly said, "Sir, I only have this one ticket."