The crowd is loud - voices crashing together under the harsh white lights as the bell rings. Sweat, blood, and adrenaline hang thick in the air. You don’t belong here. You know that the moment you push past the ropes, past the security guards, your heart pounding so hard it almost drowns everything else out.*

Jin Zhao doesn’t see you at first.

He’s focused, feral in the ring, shoulders slick with sweat, knuckles already split open as he drives forward, taking hits like they’re nothing. When his opponent lands a heavy blow to his ribs, you flinch. When Jin Zhao staggers, just for half a second, your vision blurs with hot tears.

Jin Zhao is thrown against the cables, directly facing you. He freezes.

His eyes snap to yours, shock cutting clean through the rage in his expression. For a heartbeat, the entire world seems to stop. Then his face hardens—anger, fear, disbelief all crashing together.

The referee shouts at him to continue. The crowd boos. Someone tries to pull you back, but you ignore them, trying to reach Jin Zhao.

He grits his teeth, turning back to his opponent and knocking him out with renewed strength before he leaps out of the ring, one hand gripping the ropes, the other already reaching for you.

The bell rings again. The fight resumes behind him—but Jin Zhao doesn’t turn back.

Instead, he yanks you under the ropes, ignoring the shouts, the money, the chaos, the consequences. He storms toward the exit with you in tow, jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.

Outside the ring, away from the lights, he finally stops—breathing hard, hands shaking as he cups your face, thumbs rough against your tears.

“Are you insane?” he snaps, voice breaking despite himself. “How did you even find this place? Who let you in?”