Stop Being a Black Lotus, Okay? - Chapter 1

The early morning in the West City shantytown was torn apart by the roar of an engine.

Tires ground over sewage-slicked roads as the car navigated narrow alleys flanked by illegal tin shacks. The air was a heavy miasma of rotting food and cheap cigarette smoke.

The butterfly doors swung upward. Lu Min stepped out of the driver’s seat, his custom leather shoes stepping into the murky puddles without a hint of hesitation.

A few thugs crouching in the corner smoking low-grade cigarettes looked up, their wary expressions shifting into utter bewilderment.

“Fuck, what the hell?”

“A Ferrari in the slums? Are they filming a movie?”

Lu Min ignored them. He walked straight toward the tin shack tucked into the deepest corner of the alleyway. No one knew that within this impoverished village-in-the-city, the most heinous criminal in history would be born.

In his previous life, this man’s file had been flawless. He was a graduate of a prestigious university, the heir to a legal fortune, the founder of a multinational trading company, and a dedicated philanthropist. He was a “model youth” in the eyes of the media.

Yet, in the unreachable shadows, he was the undisputed Godfather of crime in Southeast Asia. He never held a gun himself. Instead, he used capital and intelligence to fuel conflicts. Not a single illegal factory stood in his name, yet through a labyrinth of offshore companies and proxy networks, he funneled armaments to every battlefield on earth.

In his past life, Lu Min had hunted Ying Yulian for ten years. He had infiltrated this maze-like citadel countless times to search, track, and ambush him.

But this time was different. He had been reborn to a time before it all began. This time, he was going to strangle the Godfather, Ying Yulian, in his cradle.

Lu Min kicked open the unlatched door of the tin shack. The door slammed against the wall, releasing a wave of musty air, metallic blood, and the sour stench of cheap alcohol.

The light was dim. Only a sliver of daylight filtered through the cracks in the door, illuminating floating dust and scattered glass shards with razor-sharp edges mired in the muddy sewage. In the gloom, a rust-covered dog cage sat in the center of the room.

He walked further in. The soles of his leather shoes sank into a viscous grime, making an unsettling squelching sound. Then, his toe struck a slightly elastic obstruction.

He looked down. In the darkness, a small clump of dark red, almost black, unidentified soft tissue was stuck to the tip of his polished shoe. The color and texture were definitely not mud.

Lu Min’s brow furrowed instantly. Without hesitation, he jerked his foot up and struck the edge of his shoe hard against the doorframe.

Clack.

The object was shaken loose, rolling into the shadows silently. He looked up again, his gaze fixed on the cage. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he could see more clearly.

Deep inside the cage, the shadow he had initially mistaken for a pile of rags seemed to move. No, it was not rags. It was a human figure. The figure was barely recognizable as human, yet it stirred a flicker of familiarity in him.

Was it Ying Yulian?

Lu Min narrowed his eyes, instinctively wanting to deny it. Ying Yulian was a born devil. Even at this point in time, when he was just a child, he should have been out in the mud, killing and burning, his poisonous heart wrapped in childhood innocence. He should not be locked in a cage, treated like cargo or an animal. How could a person like Ying Yulian live such a miserable life?

“Are there any other kids your age here?” Lu Min kicked the cage.

The youth inside stirred. Slowly, like a rusted machine, he lifted his head. Filthy long hair slid aside, revealing a face that was pale and gaunt, yet traced with an unexpectedly fragile refinement.

His deep-set eyes made them appear larger and more profound, shimmering with a faint watery light like dust-covered glass. His parched lips were stained with dark red blood, yet their shape was well-defined, trembling slightly now from pain or some other emotion, as if offering a silent, wordless invitation.

His skin was so thin that faint blue veins were visible in the dim light. The lines of his neck were long and delicate, looking as though a single hand could easily encircle and snap it. Every ounce of pallor and fragility merged into a breathtakingly decadent beauty that made it impossible to look away.

Lu Min’s gaze drifted downward. The boy’s rag-like clothes had long lost their shape, hanging loosely off his bony shoulders with the collar slipping sideways. The hem of the shirt was tattered, faintly revealing the silhouette of a narrow waist. And further down, a mud-stained foot poked out from a tear in the pant leg.

The ankle was so slender it could be held in one hand. The ankle bone protruded in a curve that invited a firm grip, as if even slight pressure would leave a mark. His toes curled inward slightly, tinged with a faint pink, projecting a wordless sense of easy-to-control submission.

The youth did not speak. He only stared at the man through the bars with pitch-black eyes.

Lu Min lacked the patience and time to wait. Every extra moment spent here could affect the execution of his plan. He continued forward, his shoes grinding against the damp floor. This was not the person he was looking for; this was just a poor wretch who had been tortured to his limit.

His cold gaze was already moving away from the cage to scan the other corners of the room, searching for the “real” demon who should have already shown his fangs by now. Just as his vision swept past the edge of the cage, ready to turn away completely, his peripheral vision caught a flash of dark color.

It was in the hollow of the boy’s bony collarbone, exposed by the slanted collar. Lu Min’s footsteps halted abruptly. His body reacted faster than his mind. He strode back to the side of the cage and leaned down almost violently, his fingers gripping the cold bars. His eyes were nailed to that patch of skin.

He saw it clearly. Beneath the filth, a red birthmark in the shape of a rose sat like a vivid, eerie brand. In his previous life, he had used a knife to tear this rose in two, leaving a permanent scar on Ying Yulian’s collarbone.

The boy’s eyes were large but terrifyingly hollow, filled with pure terror. Seeing Lu Min approach, he shrank back like a startled animal. His spine hit the iron cage with a dull thud.

He began to shake all over. It was an uncontrollable shudder originating from his very marrow. He did not dare look up fully. He could only bury his face deeper into the crook of his arm, catching a lightning-fast glimpse of the only light source—the open doorway—through the gaps in his filthy hair.

Against that murky sliver of daylight, he saw a tall, black silhouette. The figure did not move; he just watched him in silence. This stillness was more terrifying than direct violence.

What is he going to do? The boy thought chaotically. Is he the thugs’ new boss? Or is he here to pick “goods”?

The boy’s thin shoulders jerked. His fingernails dug into his palms, but the pain did not soothe his fear. Those thugs would be back soon to continue torturing him, and he would never be able to leave this place.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, messy footsteps echoed from outside the tin shack.

“Damn it, who is the idiot blocking the alley with their car?”

The coarse noise was accompanied by the piercing sound of an iron pipe dragging across the ground. A few thugs crowded in. The leader was a man with a scarred face holding a water pipe wrapped in barbed wire.

Scarface scanned Lu Min. His eyes instantly turned greedy when they landed on the man’s expensive wristwatch.

“Yo, where did this pampered prince come from?” He grinned, revealing a row of yellow teeth. “You lost your way, haven’t you?”

Lu Min stood up slowly. He did not speak. He merely raised a hand to nonchalantly brush the dust off his coat, his gaze turning instantly cold.

Scarface was enraged by this attitude. “Motherfucker, I am talking to you!” He swung the water pipe. “Boys, teach this young master the rules of the citadel. Take the watch and the car keys first!”

The thugs closed in with cruel sneers. The moment the first person reached out to grab Lu Min’s wrist, Lu Min moved.

He caught the man’s hand, twisting and pulling it. A crisp crack followed a scream. Another man swung a fist. Lu Min dodged to the side, his elbow slamming into the man’s joint with the audible sound of breaking bone. Another man pulled a knife, but before the blade could even flick out, Lu Min’s foot had already slammed into the crook of his knee.

Within seconds, everyone was howling on the ground. Lu Min had not even wrinkled the hem of his overcoat. He bent down, picked up the knife from the thug clutching his knee, spun it between his fingers, and looked up at Scarface.

“Rules?” He spoke softly. His voice carried the icy pressure unique to someone who had spent a decade hunting criminals in a past life. “What rules? Let us hear them.”

Scarface turned pale, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He looked at his groaning subordinates, then at Lu Min’s expensive clothes and terrifying aura. “Big brother,” Scarface’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His voice was dry as he squeezed out a distorted, sycophantic smile. “It is a mistake! It is all a mistake! I was blind.”

Lu Min cut him off. “Cut the crap.” His voice was flat, yet it made Scarface flinch violently. “Where is Ying Yulian?”

Even after seeing the red birthmark, he still found it hard to believe this person was Ying Yulian. Perhaps it was just a coincidence.

Scarface froze for a moment. He turned hurriedly, pointing the barbed-wire pipe toward the rusted iron cage. He spoke at a frantic pace. “It is this kid! We just got him and have not trained him right yet. He does not look like much, but if you like what you see, take him! Use him however you want! He is young and his bones are soft. He will learn whatever you teach him. Really! If you just stay your hand, the kid is yours. Consider it my tribute to you!”

Lu Min stopped looking at him. His fingers tightened imperceptibly around the knife for a moment. Scarface’s desperate attempts to shift blame and his filthy “offering” shattered the atmosphere of cold murderous intent and bewilderment that had clouded Lu Min’s thoughts.

It was not out of sympathy, but a deeper, suffocating realization. This trembling, barely human life in the cage, this “thing” that could be disposed of or traded for profit was actually Ying Yulian. The head of a criminal organization that would turn all of S-City upside down ten years later actually had a past like this.

Scarface’s flattery buzzed in his ears, and his body acted before his mind could catch up. He kicked the cage door and used the cheap knife to snap the rusted lock with a clack. The cage door creaked open. The boy curled up in the deepest corner, shaking.

Lu Min reached out a hand. That hand wore a seven-figure watch and had perfectly groomed nails, yet now it was stained with grime. “Come out,” he said.

The boy did not move. He only forced a faint smile.

Lu Min froze, recalling a certain card he had received in his previous life. Officer Lu, I passed by the West City shantytown today and saw someone selling a child in a cage. Interestingly, the child was smiling. Tell me, how much despair must one experience to learn to use a smile to please their abuser?

“Damn it,” Lu Min cursed under his breath, turning away abruptly.

He stood there for a full minute, his chest heaving with a surge of emotions: hatred, anger, a thick sense of disgust, and a morbid obsession left over from ten years of entanglement that he did not even want to admit to.

Then, he did something even he could not understand. He pulled his hand away from where it rested on his gun and searched his coat pockets. A solid gold cardholder, a stack of black cards, a private seal—nothing that belonged here.

Finally, in the corner of an inner pocket, he felt a small plastic wrapper. It was a piece of candy a colleague had stuffed into his pocket yesterday when he left the police force. It was strawberry flavored with a cloyingly sweet scent.

Lu Min stared at the sticky little thing in his hand, thinking he might have hit his head during the rebirth. But he walked back to the cage anyway. He crouched down, meeting the boy’s eyes.

“Hey.” His voice was incredibly hoarse as he pushed the candy through the bars. “Come out.”

The boy did not take it; he just stared.

Lu Min looked away. “Come with me,” he said, each word feeling as if it were being torn out of his throat.

“You do not have to stay in a place like this anymore.”

Lu Min did not rush him. He simply kept his hand extended. After a long silence spanning dozens of seconds, a hand that was nothing but skin and bone reached out. Trembling, it settled into his palm. It was icy, small, and soft.

Lu Min tightened his fingers and pulled the boy out of the cage. The youth could not stand steadily. He staggered and fell into Lu Min’s embrace. He was too light, feeling like a bundle of bones that could fall apart at any moment.

Lu Min took off his overcoat and wrapped it around the boy. The expensive cashmere fabric was instantly stained with filth, but he did not care. Supporting and half-carrying the boy, he led him toward the door. Scarface and the other thugs were still blocking the way, but no one dared to move. Lu Min kept his arm around the youth and walked out of the tin shack without looking back.

The dark red Ferrari parked at the mouth of the alley gleamed with a cold, hard luster under the twilight. Lu Min opened the passenger door and settled the youth inside. His movements were slightly stiff. In his past life, he was used to driving police cruisers; the seat of this supercar was absurdly low.

He sat in the driver’s seat and started the engine with a roar. In the rearview mirror, the thugs stood at the entrance of the shack like a group of frozen statues. Lu Min shifted gears and hit the gas.

As the car sped out of the alley, he glanced at the youth in the passenger seat. The boy was huddled in the leather seat, wrapped in the oversized coat. Only his eyes were visible, staring quietly. His gaze held alertness, confusion, and a deep, unreadable quality that Lu Min could not quite decipher.

The youth was also staring at Lu Min. The spot on his wrist where he had been held still retained a circle of warmth—a temperature that was foreign and did not seem to belong to this cold, dark world. He had thought this terrifyingly powerful man would either flee in panic or become a new abuser after the fight, just like the other outsiders who occasionally stumbled into this mire.

He had hunched his shoulders, bracing for the familiar pain. But it never came. The man had pulled him out, wrapped him in a coat that smelled of a strange fragrance, and taken him away from the rusted cage and the foul air.

He did not understand. His cold fingers curled tighter inside the sleeve, firmly gripping a sharp shard of broken glass he had secretly picked up. The hard texture and the slight sting in his palm were the only things he recognized and understood. Beyond that, everything—the flying scenery, the soft seat beneath him, and the silent man beside him—was so foreign that it terrified him. He felt more out of place here than in his dark cage.

Lu Min retracted his gaze and gripped the steering wheel. He knew he was likely out of his mind. He was bringing a nemesis from his past life—a future Godfather of crime—along with him, having “picked him up” from the slums in a Ferrari.

Did he regret it? Of course. His ten years of blood, sweat, and tears spent hunting this man, the mountain of case files, and the broken families—did all of that become void just because he saw the boy shivering in a cage?

The corner of Lu Min’s mouth twisted into a cold arc. He had already saved him; he could hardly kick him out of the car now. He glanced at the curled figure beside him. The child’s breathing was so shallow it was almost inaudible.

I will take him back for now and raise him for a few days.

If he is truly rotten to the core… if he shows even the slightest hint of the malice belonging to the future Ying Yulian…

Lu Min’s fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel.

Then, I will deal with him when the time comes.

The car drove out of the shantytown and merged into the flowing traffic. The youth was almost swallowed by the soft cashmere of the oversized coat. He carefully and slowly lifted his eyelashes, looking at the man in the driver’s seat through the gaps in his tangled hair.

Lu Min appeared focused on the road, but his peripheral vision remained locked on the fragile body beside him, weighing his options. After a long while, he spoke, his voice kept low beneath the sound of the engine.

“What is your name?”

The question came suddenly. The youth flinched, his thin shoulders hunching as if trying to shrink into a nonexistent shell. His lips moved, but no sound came out. He buried his face deeper into the collar of the coat, which smelled of a cold, crisp fragrance.

Lu Min waited for a moment. His finger tapped lightly on the steering wheel. He lacked patience, yet he did not press further.

“I have no name,” a hoarse, wispy voice finally leaked from the collar. It carried the friction of someone who had not spoken for a long time and a sense of hollow numbness. “They all call me Bastard.”

Lu Min’s fingers tightened instantly. That insulting name disturbed his already dark mood. His hatred remained, but a sharper sting accompanied it. It was true: before becoming Ying Yulian, he was not even worthy of a proper name.

“What about your real name?” Lu Min’s voice remained cold, but his persistence held a strange intensity. “The name your parents gave you. Do you remember it?”

The youth seemed to tremble harder. Parents? That was a word even more blurred and distant than “bastard.” It carried no warmth or concrete image, only a void and instinctive fear. He shook his head vigorously, his dirty hair rustling against the coat.

After several more suffocating seconds, just as Lu Min assumed there would be no answer and prepared to force the name “Ying Yulian” upon him, the youth uttered a syllable very softly and uncertainly.

“Lian.”

As if afraid he had remembered incorrectly or that the syllable itself would cause more harm, he immediately added in a voice nearly drowned by the engine, “I think… a long time ago, someone called me that once.”

There was no nostalgia in his tone, only a bewildered uncertainty, as if he were recounting something heard through hearsay that had nothing to do with him.

Lu Min did not ask where the surname “Ying” came from; that likely involved an even more sordid past. He simply gave a faint nod.

“From now on, your name is Ying Yulian,” he said, staring straight ahead. His tone held no warmth; he was merely stating a fact. “I will raise you until you are grown.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he saw the figure in the passenger seat shudder imperceptibly. Then, he heard a voice. It was very light and terribly hoarse, squeezed out like a breath from a dry crack in the earth. It was a cautious, nearly undetectable probe, like a young animal taken from its nest, emitting a weak whimper in extreme terror without even daring to show its claws.

“If I follow you,” Ying Yulian paused, as if it took all his strength to squeeze out the rest of the sentence, “will there be food to eat?”