Ao Bing stormed into his apartment, the door slamming behind him. His chest tightened as his mind replayed the moment on the beach. 

Those eyes…

Yi Zichen’s eyes, illuminated by the morning sun, had hit him like a punch to the gut. 

He couldn’t shake the image: the swirling mix of greens, browns, and yellows, the way they caught the light like a forest waking up at dawn. It had been 300 years since he’d last seen eyes like that.

He clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. 

The shock of it had caught him off guard, but what frustrated him more was the surge of emotion that followed—emotion he thought he had long since moved on from. Or, so he thought. He had spent centuries distancing himself from the past, and now, with just a glance, it all came flooding back.

Ao Bing walked to the bathroom and turned on the faucet, splashing cold water over his face, hoping the chill would snap him out of it. As he leaned over the sink, water dripping from his hands, he stared into the mirror, his reflection glaring back at him. 

It’s just a coincidence. 

That’s all it is.

He stared harder at his reflection, forcing himself to believe it. There were billions of people in the world. Of course, it was entirely possible that someone else would have that exact same eye color. That same deep forest green, flecked with gold and brown, wasn’t unique. The resemblance in their eyes was just that—a resemblance. Nothing more.

But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, it didn’t matter. His reaction had been too strong, too visceral. He hated that this was affecting him so deeply. He hated how seeing Yi Zichen’s in this light, so familiar yet so impossible, shook him to his core. 

It wasn’t just the resemblance—it was the stark reminder that he hadn’t moved on. All these years, he had convinced himself that the hurt, the grief, the confusion—it was all buried. 

But if a simple glance could unravel him like this, it clearly hadn’t been buried at all.

Ao Bing slammed his fist against the sink in frustration, his reflection glaring back at him. Gripping the sink’s cold edges with both hands, he closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. He was still trying to collect himself when a loud knock interrupted his thoughts.

Before he could react, Sun Wukong pushed the door open and let herself in, her usual carefree swagger barely fitting in the small space of his apartment.

"We need to talk," she announced, completely oblivious to the energy radiating off of Ao Bing at that moment.

Ao Bing wiped his face and turned to face her, his expression tight, but Sun Wukong didn’t notice. She was already launching into her usual fast-paced conversation.

"So, I just had a chat with Erlang Shen and Hēi Wú." She plopped herself down on the couch, as if she hadn’t just barged into his personal space uninvited. “And we have a problem. We need to figure out a way to get one of these demons back to the CIA. Yi Zichen might be the key.”

Ao Bing’s body went rigid, and his heart rate spiked. “What?”

Sun Wukong blinked, missing the shift in his tone. “You heard me. Yi Zichen might be the key. He’s the only one who can see the red aura around the demons, and I thought maybe you could help me convince him—”

“No,” Ao Bing cut in, his voice sharp, harsher than he intended. 

Sun Wukong tilted her head, finally noticing something off in his tone. “What do you mean? He’s the only one who has seen the red aura. Erlang Shen pretty much ordered us to get him on board.”

Ao Bing’s eyes flashed, anger bubbling to the surface. “I don’t care what Erlang Shen said. Don’t involve me in your plans.”

Sun Wukong’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “What’s with the sudden change of heart? I thought you liked him.”

Those words—liked him—triggered something. The tension inside him, the frustration he had been trying so hard to contain, snapped. 

“I don’t like him!” 

His voice was loud, sharp, and tinged with a desperation that surprised even him. 

Sun Wukong’s face contorted in confusion. “Did something happen between the two of you?”

“Drop it, Yanling,” he said, taking a step toward her.

Sun Wukong, clearly bewildered, took a step back. “Whoa, easy. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. You were fine the last time I saw you-”

Ao Bing made his way to the door, flung it open and pointed outside. “I need to be alone right now.”

Sun Wukong, taken aback by the intensity of his reaction, stared at him. For a moment, she looked like she was going to push back, but then she thought better of it. With one last confused glance, she sighed and walked out the door. Ao Bing closed the door firmly behind her, the sound reverberating through the empty beachfront. 

Outside the door, Sun Wukong stood there, stunned and trying to make sense of what had just happened. She had known Ao Bing for centuries and it wasn’t like him to behave so emotionally. 

She crossed her arms, frowning in thought. She shook her head, letting out a frustrated sigh. "What the hell is going on with you?" she muttered to herself, glancing back at Ao Bing’s door. She didn’t have time to figure it out now. They had bigger problems, and Yi Zichen was at the center of it, whether Ao Bing liked it or not.

Sun Wukong’s gaze drifted to the skyline as Erlang Shen’s words echoed in her head—get him involved, we need him. 

She knew Yi Zichen had been trying to avoid getting pulled into Celestial matters—he had made that clear enough. But the way things were going, there wasn’t much choice left. The stakes were too high, and if Yi Zichen had the ability to see things even the Celestials couldn’t, they needed him now more than ever.

***

Sun Wukong stood on the sidewalk outside Yi Zichen’s office, leaning against a lamppost, her arms crossed as she waited for him to emerge. The sun had already begun its descent, casting a golden hue over the city streets. She felt the tension in her shoulders as she mulled over her next move. Normally, she wouldn’t be caught dead standing around waiting for anyone like this, let alone a mere mortal, but something told her that this situation with Yi Zichen required a little more finesse than her usual approach.

Finally, Yi Zichen stepped out, his face a mix of exhaustion and annoyance, his pace hurried. His tie was undone, the rest of his suit disheveled. The moment he saw her, his expression darkened.

"You again?" he asked, his tone edged with irritation.

Sun Wukong raised her hands in a peaceful gesture. "Look, I know you don’t want to get involved in this whole Celestial mess, but we need you. You’re the only one who can see this red aura around the demons. We can’t do this without you."

Yi Zichen sighed, visibly frustrated. "I already told you. You gods and immortals have your own ways of handling things. You don’t need me. I’m just an ordinary dude."

Sun Wukong crossed her arms again, her usual cocky grin fading. "I get it, really. And I know I’m overstepping by asking you, but we’re out of options.”

Yi Zichen shook his head. "I’m not interested. You’ll figure it out." His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he glanced at the screen. 

"I have to go,” he told her. “There’s a promise I need to keep to some people tonight,” he showed her his phone, revealing a photograph of a group of children waving and smiling in front of a building which she instantly recognized from the night when she and Erlang Shen were reviewing his file. 

It was the orphanage where he grew up. 

“I’m already late.”

As Yi Zichen put his phone back in his pocket, the descending sunlight caught his eyes, and Sun Wukong noticed it immediately--the same vibrant mix of greens, yellows and browns, like a forest of pine trees under the early morning sun. 

Wait…could it be…?

She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she performed a subtle scan of his spiritual energy yet again. And once again, she found nothing. Yi Zichen had no Celestial connection, no divine lineage. But there was no mistaking it, Sun Wukong thought. 

Those eyes had to be the reason Ao Bing was so thrown.

Sun Wukong sighed. She knew her friend too well. If she had to guess, seeing Yi Zichen in this same light as she was seeing him now must have stirred something up that Ao Bing wasn’t ready to confront.

As Yi Zichen excused himself and hurried off, she thought to herself:

What exactly is this mess we all have gotten ourselves into?

***

Yi Zichen pushed through the double doors of the grocery store, moving with urgency. He had promised the kids at the orphanage their favorite snacks, and between a long day at work and Sun Wukong’s visit, he was running late. Grabbing a cart, he tossed in bags of chips, cookies, fruit, and juice boxes, piling everything in a rush.

The orphanage had been his sanctuary when he was a child. Both of his parents had died in a car accident when he was six years old, and the orphanage had taken him in. Years later, in his early thirties, after both of his adopted parents passed away not long after one another, the orphanage once again became his connection to a life that wasn’t filled with loneliness. The kids looked up to him, and in a way, helping them was his way of giving back to the place that had saved him.

The cashier rang up the snacks quickly, and Yi Zichen swiped his card, his mind still focused on getting to the orphanage on time. Once he was outside, he fumbled with the bags as he rushed toward his car. As he rounded the corner, distracted, he collided with someone head-on, sending his bags flying to the ground.

"Shit, sorry," he muttered, bending down to gather the spilled groceries. When he glanced up, his heart sank. 

It was Ao Bing.

The tension between them was immediate and thick. Neither of them said a word at first, both crouching to gather the scattered bags. Finally, Ao Bing cleared his throat. "Here," he said, handing Yi Zichen a bag of groceries. "It’s my fault. Let me help."

Yi Zichen took the bag, his voice tight. "Thanks."

They stood up, bags in hand, awkwardly staring at each other for a moment. The charged energy between them hadn’t lessened since they saw one another on the beach this morning. Yi Zichen had been bothered by it ever since—by Ao Bing’s coldness, by the way he had pushed him away after what seemed to be a nice morning.

Finally, Yi Zichen couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Have I done something to offend you?”

Ao Bing’s expression hardened, but he hesitated. He had made up his mind not to get involved with Yi Zichen, to keep his distance. 

Finally, with a bitter edge to his voice, Ao Bing muttered, “Maybe I just don’t like you.”

Yi Zichen’s face twisted with frustration. “Fuck off,” he said, grabbing the rest of the groceries from the ground and threw them into his car. Ao Bing opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. 

Instead, Ao Bing stood motionless in the parking lot of the store, watching Yi Zichen drive away without saying another word.

***

Ao Bing walked slowly back toward his apartment. The confrontation had left a sour taste in his mouth, and he couldn’t explain why everything with Yi Zichen felt so impossible.

As he turned onto a side street, he noticed a group of policemen sprinting toward their squad cars, radios blaring. One of them jumped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut as the engine roared to life.

Ao Bing overheard a snippet of the radio transmission before the car sped off.

“There’s something going on near the orphanage on the west side of town. Sounds like gang activity? We’re going to check it out.”