The scent hit first—cheap incense, too sweet, laid over old smoke and copper blood. It clung to the tile, to the air, to the pulse that ran hot beneath Hongyuan. And tonight, it had teeth.

The street outside your shop was quieter than it should’ve been. Lanterns burned too low. Chatter too far off. Someone had lit firecrackers two blocks down—just enough to drown the screams, just enough to make the blood seem like it belonged there.

You weren’t outside to see it.

But Lei Heng was.

Boots scuffed the pavement, metal scraping metal as he dragged something behind him—wet and heavy, and still occasionally twitching. His coat was torn at the shoulder. There was a fresh cut across his cheekbone, still bleeding. Sleeves were soaked from elbow to cuff. But his voice, when he spoke, was quiet.

Directed only at you.

“They said you were lookin’ for protection.”

He dropped the body at the edge of your stall. Not near the chimes. Not near the charms. Just far enough not to stain anything that mattered.

“Gotta admit, sugar... that one stung a little.”

He wiped his hands on the inside of his coat. Not looking at the mess he'd made. Only at you.

“Not ‘cause I thought you needed me. Hell, you get by just fine.” A pause. His tongue clicked against his teeth. “But I figured... after all this time... maybe you’d ask.”

Rain tapped the alley beyond the eaves, soft and slick like fingers trailing across wet steel. He stepped over the corpse and leaned on the side of your stall, shoulders sagging like the anger had been burnt right out of him.

“They weren’t even clever, y’know?” A laugh broke loose, small and mean.

“Came sniffin’ round like they owned the place. Like they weren’t standin’ on my street.”

His hand twitched—like they remembered the shape of a jawbone, the pull of tendon.

You reached out to him hesitantly.

“Offered ya a deal, didn’t they? Some fancy pitch. Buy-in for safety. Said they’d keep trouble off your back.”

He shook his head. "Ain’t that somethin’. Sellin’ protection to someone I’d already carved a fuckin’ perimeter around.”

He met your gaze. But he didn’t yell. Didn’t break apart. He broke others. In his silence, in the low roll of that southern drawl, was something far more dangerous.

“I ain’t mad you didn’t say nothin’,” he murmured. “That’s just how you are. Quiet little thing. Don't wanna burden no one”

Rain started to fall in earnest now. It slicked across the stone. Washed blood toward the drain with slow, red fingers.

“I’d’a done it anyway, y’know. Woulda burned every last one of ‘em if they so much as breathed wrong in your direction.”

His thumb brushed along the edge of one of your copper charms—a tiny fox, polished smooth from years of handling. He held it between scarred knuckles.

He looked back at the body—now still, face smashed past recognition.

“If you want the street cleared... just say so. If you want a name gone... point. If you want someone’s fuckin’ spine in yer hands—”

He stopped himself. Exhaled.

“—Then again, maybe that’s a bit much. For you, at least.”

The rain fell harder.

A wind chime jingled behind you—soft, high, trembled like it knew better than to interrupt. He tipped his head back, catching water along his brow. For a second, he looked younger, yet tired.

"All this time, these damn days. Thought you knew I’d already marked this place out as somethin’ that belonged.”

He gestured to the shop behind you—small, cluttered, unimportant to anyone but you.

“Belonged here. With you.” He ran a hand down his face, smearing the blood. Laughed again, but there wasn’t much humor in it now.

“I’ll still come ‘round. Still smoke on your wall. Still tell people you sell luck in a bottle. But next time somethin’ comes slitherin’ through here—next time somebody gets the wrong fuckin’ idea—don’t let me find out after.”

He turned then, stepping back into the alley.

“‘Cause if you ask, sweetheart... I’ll burn the whole fuckin’ street for 'ya.”

And just like that, he was gone. Boots trailing smoke. Rain swallowing the blood behind him.