Stolen Freedom

As the concert came to a close, Zihao stood on stage, his heart racing with a sense of accomplishment. The crowd's cheers rang in his ears, a deafening roar of adoration that filled him with gratitude. He smiled brightly, the emotion evident in his eyes.

"Thank you all for being here tonight. This means everything to me," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Just a few months ago, I was a nobody, posting a random video of me playing my guitar in my room. I didn't expect it to go anywhere, but look where we are now. You all made this dream come true for me. I couldn't have done it without you." His voice wavered slightly, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "Thank you."

The fans erupted into a frenzy, screaming his name, as he bowed deeply, savoring the moment before quickly exiting the stage. The moment the backstage door slammed shut, however, Zihao's heart dropped. There, leaning against the wall, arms crossed and face locked in a scowl, stood Yichen.

Zihao's stomach churned. He had been hoping to avoid this moment, but it was inevitable. Yichen's eyes were sharp, and there was a clear irritation written all over his face. The air between them thickened instantly.

"Zihao," Yichen's voice was low and controlled, the kind of voice that made Zihao feel like he was already in trouble. "What time did you say this concert was supposed to end?"

Zihao scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, trying to lighten the mood. "Uh... I said around 7:00?"

Yichen raised an eyebrow, glancing at his watch. "It's 8:00 now. Do you have any idea what's happening back at the Yi mansion?"

Zihao froze. He blinked at Yichen, momentarily disoriented. But then, Yichen's next words hit him like a bucket of cold water.

"I just got a call from your mother," Yichen continued, his voice hard. "She said the chairman's birthday feast is starting, and your father and grandfather are both furious. Neither of us is there."

Zihao's face fell. Panic began to claw at his chest. "Oh no... I completely lost track of time. I didn't mean to—"

Yichen interrupted, his tone sharper. "Zihao, do you understand the position you're putting me in? I vouched for you, and this is how you repay me? I told you this was important, and yet here we are, running late because you couldn't stick to the schedule."

Zihao took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him. He stepped closer to Yichen, his voice sincere but apologetic. "I'm really sorry, Yichen. It's just… this concert… it meant a lot to me. I didn't expect it to go on this long. But I swear, I didn't forget about the dinner."

Yichen's eyes narrowed, his anger not quite fading. "Sorry doesn't cut it anymore. You have 15 minutes. No more. Go change into something appropriate, meet me at the back door, and don't make me wait." His voice hardened, "If you're late, I'm leaving without you."

Zihao's stomach dropped. He opened his mouth to protest, to explain further, but Yichen's cold, unyielding expression made him pause.

He dashed toward his dressing room, quickly shedding his stage outfit. As he changed into a more formal outfit, he couldn't help but replay Yichen's words. His stepbrother might act cold, but Zihao knew Yichen had been trying to protect him, especially from his father's and grandfather's wrath. Yet here he was, letting him down again.

In the mirror, Zihao caught a glimpse of himself—no longer the confident rockstar from a few minutes ago but the son of the prestigious Yi family, burdened by the weight of their legacy. He sighed, pulling on a plain black suit and smoothing out his hair. This wasn't how he had envisioned the night ending.

As he sprinted toward the back door, he muttered under his breath, "Please still be there, Yichen… please don't leave without me."

*****

Meanwhile, Xinyi and her friends, Mei and Li Wei, were caught in the surge of people trying to exit the venue. The energy was frantic, and the air was thick with impatience. The crowd pushed and shoved, and before long, a loud argument erupted by the entrance.

"Hey! Watch where you're pushing!" a voice shouted angrily.

"Move it, I'm late!" another person barked.

Mei Lan sighed in frustration. "Let's go through the back exit," she suggested, trying to avoid the chaos.

Xinyi nodded quickly, pulling her friends along. "Good idea. Let's hurry."

They maneuvered through the hallways, weaving around bodies, their footsteps echoing in the quiet corners of the venue. Xinyi felt the weight of the evening—the excitement, the noise, and the tension in the air. As she reached the back door, her pulse quickened. She turned to check on her friends and didn't see the person stepping around the corner, colliding hard with someone.

"Ow! Sorry, I—" she began, but froze mid-sentence when she saw who it was.

Yichen.

Her heart skipped a beat, and a cold shiver ran down her spine. The man who had held her captive. The one who had scared her out of her wits that night in the warehouse. The memories came rushing back, thick and suffocating. Her breath caught in her throat.

Yichen's face darkened when he recognized her. His posture stiffened, his arms tightening as if the encounter was a reminder of the mistake he had made. He stood still for a moment, studying her, the tension palpable.

Xinyi's body tensed with a sudden surge of panic. She immediately reached into her bag, grabbing the only weapon she could find: a small nail cutter. She held it out, her hands trembling.

"I know why you're here! You're here to kidnap me again, aren't you?!" Her voice cracked with fear but was laced with defiance. "I won't let you!"

Yichen's eyes flicked to the nail cutter in her hand, then back to her, a bitter laugh escaping him. "A nail cutter? Really?" He ran a hand over his face, exasperated. "I don't have time for this."

Xinyi's face flushed with anger. "Help! Someone, please!" she cried out, hoping someone nearby would hear.

Yichen's face darkened, and in a swift movement, he grabbed her wrist, stopping her from flailing around. "Quiet," he growled, his grip firm, pushing her back against the wall. Her heart raced as she struggled against his hold.

"Let go of me!" she shouted, her voice trembling. "I know you're here for—"

Before she could say anything more, Yichen stepped closer, his body forcing hers against the cold wall. His hand shot up, covering her mouth as he leaned in. The action was swift and silent, his breath heavy against her face as he whispered in a low, controlled voice, "Would you stop?"

Xinyi's eyes widened, a mix of fear and fury flashing in them. She stared up at him, her back pressed against the wall, heart thundering in her chest. Her wide eyes were rimmed with unshed tears, and her breath came in ragged gasps. For a brief moment, Yichen's expression softened slightly as he met her gaze, guilt flickering in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by frustration.

"This is just a coincidence," he whispered, his voice harsh. "You're not worth kidnapping."

The words struck Xinyi like a slap, but she held her ground. She struggled, her anger flaring, her voice shaking as she continued to demand, "Let go of me!"

Just then, Zihao arrived, catching sight of Yichen practically pinning a girl against the wall, his hand on her mouth. Misreading the situation, Zihao's jaw dropped, his face breaking into a mischievous grin. OH!!! MY GOD!!!!, Yichen, I CAUGHT YOU FINALLY....," .

Yichen's grip loosened, and he stepped back, his eyes flicking toward Zihao, barely concealing his annoyance. Xinyi quickly stepped away from the wall, her eyes narrowed at Yichen, though she kept her distance.

Zihao, completely oblivious to the tension, smirked. "You must be the girl whose bag I found in Yichen's car this morning. I'm Zihao, by the way." His tone was casual, friendly even, as if the scene he had just interrupted was normal.

Xinyi's confusion deepened as she glanced between them, her voice filled with urgency. "Rio, is it? Don't trust him! He's a kidnapper! A killer! I'm trying to help you escape!"

Zihao blinked, clearly baffled. "Kidnapper?" he repeated, a look of utter disbelief on his face.

Xinyi, her eyes filled with conviction, stepped closer to him. "You don't know him. I'll protect you! I swear, I won't let him hurt you."

Zihao stifled a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Uh, yeah... I know him." He gave a dramatic sigh, pretending to be flustered. "Actually, this guy here is... my bodyguard."

Yichen shot a deadly glare at Zihao, his voice low with warning. "Bodyguard?" he repeated, his tone dangerous.

Zihao leaned closer to Xinyi, his grin widening. "Yeah, it's a little intense, right? But he's cool. Trust me, I'll introduce you properly."

Xinyi looked between them, confused but still wary. She tightened her grip on her tiny nail cutter knife, giving Yichen an uncertain look. Yichen's gaze flicked down to the "weapon" in her hand, then back to Zihao, clearly unimpressed.

"You," he muttered through clenched teeth, staring at Zihao with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. "Fifteen minutes, remember?"

Zihao shrugged nonchalantly, barely hiding his smirk. "Yes, . But hey, let's not scare my new fan here."But Yichen, exasperated, turned to Zihao. "You have ten minutes," he muttered. Then he walked off, leaving them both behind, with Zihao grinning widely ..

Xinyi's mind raced, and despite herself, she took a step back, eyes wide. She couldn't quite comprehend what was happening. This was the same person who had terrorized her, the one who had been involved in her past, and now Zihao was joking around, acting like nothing was wrong.

As Yichen walked off, his sharp strides full of frustration, Zihao turned back to Xinyi, grinning brightly. "I'm really happy to meet a fan in such an unexpected way. Thanks for coming to my concert, for supporting me… and, well, always supporting me." He offered a warm, genuine smile. "Keep coming to my concerts, okay?"

Before Xinyi could respond, Zihao waved and jogged toward Yichen, who was already by the car, holding the door open with an impatient look. Zihao barely managed to jump into the passenger seat before Yichen shut the door behind him with a firm thud, and they sped off toward Yi Mansion.

Xinyi stood there, still processing everything. She whispered to herself, "Rio... knows him?" A wave of confusion washed over her as she replayed the strange encounter. How could her favorite singer have such a seemingly intense relationship with someone who'd once threatened her?

Just then, her friends Mei Lan and Li Wei finally caught up to her, slightly out of breath. "Xinyi!" Mei Lan called, waving her hand. "Sorry, we got stuck in the crowd at the entrance—it was chaos back there! Are you okay?"

Xinyi blinked, still lost in thought, but managed a nod. "Yeah… I just… bumped into someone." She decided not to mention everything that had just happened, still trying to make sense of it herself.

****

Meanwhile, back at the Yi Mansion…The grand entrance of Yi Mansion was illuminated, guests steadily arriving in their elegant attire. Yi Yong Zheng, a man of strict discipline and pride, stood by his son, Tai Sun, greeting the guests with a practiced smile. But as each new car pulled up, he felt his patience fray further. Where were Yichen and Zihao? Important guests, the city's most elite, had started arriving, and yet neither of them was here to help.

Yi Yong Zheng turned to Zhao Lin, his wife and Zihao's mother, his expression a mix of frustration and irritation. "Call Yichen," he demanded, his tone cold. "They're late enough to have made us look like fools. I won't have us disrespected in front of our guests like this."

Zhao Lin, though just as disappointed, placed a calming hand on his arm. "I'll call him," she assured him softly, hoping to ease his anger. She quickly pulled out her phone, dialing Yichen's number, hoping her stepson would at least give an explanation...

As the phone rang, Yi Yong Zheng forced a tense smile as another guest approached, keeping his frustration contained—but barely.…he was clearly nearing the edge of his patience.

******

In the car speeding toward the mansion, Yichen felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Glancing at the screen, he saw Zhao Lin's name flashing and immediately knew what she'd be calling about. He sighed, his grip on the wheel tightening as he mentally prepared for the inevitable reprimand.

"Hello," he answered, his voice controlled but strained.

"Yichen, where are you?" Zhao Lin's tone was both anxious and frustrated. "your father is growing impatient. You and Zihao should've been here by now."

"We're on our way," he replied, casting a quick glance at Zihao, who was still lounging in the passenger seat, seemingly unbothered. "There was... a delay. We'll be there shortly."

Zhao Lin hesitated on the other end, her worry palpable. "Please, hurry. This isn't a good look,. Your father's patience is wearing thin."

With a terse nod, Yichen ended the call and glanced over at Zihao, his eyes narrowing. "You're not just late; you're risking everything with this careless attitude, Zihao. You don't get to take these things lightly just because you want to play rockstar."

Zihao sighed, the weight of Yichen's words finally starting to sink in. "I know, Yichen. I'm sorry. It's just... tonight was special to me. I didn't mean to make you or Mom worry." His voice softened, a rare vulnerability creeping into his usually carefree tone.

Yichen's expression softened, if only slightly. "Just remember, being a part of this family means more than just living your dreams. There are responsibilities that come first."Zihao nodded, staring out the window. Despite his carefree nature, he felt the burden of living up to his family's name and their's high standards.

As they pulled up to the mansion, both young men braced themselves, ready to face the storm they knew awaited inside. The grand doors swung open as they entered, the opulent hallway buzzing with guests, laughter, and clinking glasses. They weaved through the crowd, drawing disapproving glances from their father and a look of relief from their mother.

Yi Yong Zheng stepped forward, his gaze as cold as steel. "Late as usual," he said, his voice low but laced with disdain.

Yichen straightened, meeting his father's gaze with calm resolve, while Zihao looked down, feeling the weight of disappointment heavy upon him. For a moment, it felt as though the bustling room had faded, leaving only the silent tension between father and sons.

Finally, Zhao Lin, ever the peacemaker, interjected, smiling warmly at her husband and their guests. "Thank you all for your patience. I'm glad my sons could finally join us," she said, subtly redirecting the mood back to celebration.

With a final, tense look, Yi Yong Zheng turned back to greet the guests, and the brothers sighed with relief, knowing the night was far from over.