The neon-soaked streets of the city don’t care about your feelings, and Xiao Shen learned that before he could even drive.

At twenty-three, his life is a high-speed blur of exhaustion and grit. As the primary breadwinner for his family, Shen is the backbone of the "Speedy Sparks" courier service.

He’s the guy who weaves through gridlocked traffic on a beat-up scooter, defying death for a five-star rating and a meager tip. He’s got "poor" etched into his bank balance but "king" written in his posture. With his silver-lilac hair tucked under a backwards cap and eyes that see right through the fake glitter of the upper class, Shen is a walking storm.

He’s kind to the elderly on his route and feeds every stray cat in the alley, but if a customer catches an attitude? He’s got a tongue like a razor blade. He doesn’t just deliver packages; he delivers reality checks.

On the literal opposite end of the skyline lives Wei Xun. Nestled in a penthouse that costs more than Shen’s entire neighborhood, Wei Xun is the definition of "born with a silver spoon and a diamond-encrusted ego."

As the heir to the Wei Group empire, his world is curated, filtered, and devastatingly boring. He spends his nights blowing money on high-end tech he never uses and his days lounging in silk robes, looking down at the "ants" on the street below.

He’s breathtakingly handsome, hauntingly cold, and a total brat. He’s used to everyone—from board members to bodyguards—shaking in their boots when he enters a room. To Wei Xun, people are either tools or toys, and he’s played with them all.

Their worlds collide when a "priority" delivery goes sideways. Wei Xun, feeling particularly petty on a Tuesday, decides to harass the delivery guy for being sixty seconds late. He expects the courier to tremble, apologize, and maybe even beg for his job.

Instead, he gets Xiao Shen.

Shen doesn't bow. He doesn't apologize. He leans into Wei Xun’s personal space, smells like rain and cheap coffee, and tells the billionaire heir exactly where he can shove his "priority" package. For the first time in his life, Wei Xun is speechless.

He’s found someone who isn't impressed by his black card or his last name. Now, the bored prince has a new obsession: he’s going to break the feisty delivery guy. But as the deliveries become more frequent and the arguments more heated, the "game" starts feeling dangerously like a heartbeat.

In a city of cold concrete, these two are about to find out that love doesn't always arrive in a pretty box—sometimes, it’s a collision you never saw coming.

can people from two different worlds collide???

is there a possibility???

Is there even hope??

Stay tuned to find out what's gonna happen on this thrilling ride ✨

The humidity in the city was disrespectful. Xiao Shen wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, his thumb hovering over the "Delivered" button on his cracked phone screen.

Another twelve-hour shift was officially in the bag. His back ached, and his lungs felt like they were filled with bus exhaust, but he didn't have time to complain. He kicked his scooter into gear, the engine letting out a pathetic whine before it roared to life.

He had twenty minutes to get to the middle school across town before his sister, Meiling, ended up waiting on the curb alone.

The ride was a blur of neon signs and near-death experiences with Uber drivers who didn’t know how to use their blinkers. Shen wove through the traffic like a pro, his silver hair windswept and messy under his cap.

When he finally skidded to a halt in front of the school gates, Meiling was already there, kicking a pebble with her scuffed sneakers.

"You’re late," she said, though she was already grinning as she hopped onto the back of the scooter.

"Three minutes, kid. Don’t start with me," Shen teased, handing her a spare helmet. "I got us the good dumplings for dinner tonight. Extra spicy."

"You’re the best, Shen-ge," she murmured, clinging to his waist.

For a second, the weight of the world felt lighter. This was why he did it. The bills, the rude customers, the sore muscles—it was all for her. But the universe loved to mess with him. Just as they pulled up to their cramped, leaky apartment, Shen’s phone buzzed in his pocket. A notification from the premium delivery app "Elite Eats" flashed on the screen.

[URGENT: High-Priority Order. Double Pay + Guaranteed Tip.]

Shen groaned, leaning his head against the handlebars. He needed that money. The rent was due in two days, and the landlord was already breathing down his neck.

"Go inside, Mei. Lock the door. I’ll be back in an hour," he said, his voice tired.

"Again?" she asked, her face falling.

"Last one. I promise."

The order was for a single, oversized truffle pizza from a place that charged fifty bucks just for the box. The destination? The Summit Penthouse. It was the kind of building that had a lobby made of actual gold and security guards who looked like they’d been recruited from the secret service.

By the time Shen reached the 88th floor, his mood was in the gutter. He stood in front of the massive, sleek black door of Penthouse A. He pressed the intercom.

Silence.

He waited two minutes and pressed it again. "Delivery for Mr. Wei. I have your pizza."

Nothing.

Shen checked his watch. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. He leaned against the cold marble wall, his legs shaking from standing all day. He called the number on the app. It went straight to voicemail—a deep, bored voice saying, “Don’t leave a message unless you’re dying.”

"Bastard," Shen muttered.

Thirty minutes turned into forty-five. Then, finally, an hour. Shen was vibrating with rage. He was about to leave the pizza on the floor and walk away when the heavy door finally clicked open.

A man stepped out, and for a split second, Shen forgot how to breathe. Wei Xun was tall—unnervingly tall—draped in a silk robe that probably cost more than Shen’s scooter. He was 29, looking like he’d just woken up from a nap that cost a million dollars. His dark hair was perfectly messy, and his eyes were hooded, looking at Shen like he was a bug under a microscope.

"You’re still here?" Wei Xun asked, his voice smooth and incredibly annoying. He didn't even look at the pizza. He looked at Shen's faded hoodie and the smudge of grease on his cheek.

"I’ve been standing here for an hour," Shen snapped, shoving the thermal bag toward the man’s chest. "The app says you’re supposed to be available for pickup. I have other jobs. I have a life."

Wei Xun tilted his head, a slow, mocking smirk spreading across his face. He didn't take the bag. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "I was in the middle of a skin-care routine. Surely a cold pizza isn't worth this much drama, little delivery boy."

"Little delivery boy?" Shen’s blood boiled. He stepped closer, refusing to be intimidated by the height difference or the expensive smell of sandalwood. "Listen, you arrogant bastard. Just because you live in a tower doesn't mean the world stops for you. You’re a brat. A grown-man brat who thinks his time is more valuable than anyone else’s just because he’s got a fat wallet."

The hallway went silent. Most people stuttered when Wei Xun looked at them. Most people apologized for existing in his presence.

Wei Xun’s eyes sharpened, glowing with a sudden, dark interest. He reached out, his long fingers brushing against Shen’s chin, forcing him to look up. Shen flinched but didn't pull away, his glare unwavering.

"You've got a lot of nerve," Wei Xun whispered, his smirk growing wider. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a wad of cash, and stuffed it into the front pocket of Shen’s hoodie without counting it. "Most people are boring. They’re scared. But you..."

He leaned down, his breath warm against Shen’s ear.

"You’re an interesting little bully, aren't you?"

Shen pushed his hand away, his heart hammering against his ribs—not from fear, but from pure, unadulterated loathing. "Get a therapist and eat your cold pizza, Wei Xun."

Shen turned on his heel and marched toward the elevator. He didn't look back, but he could feel Wei Xun’s eyes on his back the entire way down.

As the elevator doors closed, Shen pulled the cash out of his pocket. It was five hundred dollars.

"Asshole," Shen breathed, but his hands were shaking.

The next morning was a literal disaster

Xiao Shen was trying to enjoy his one luxury—a lukewarm instant coffee—while Meiling complained about her math homework.

His phone, which usually only buzzed for low-paying delivery alerts, started vibrating so hard it nearly walked itself off the cracked plastic table.

**Unknown Number:** *The pizza was mid.*

**Unknown Number:** *Actually, it was trash.*

**Unknown Number:** *I threw it at my gardener.*

**Unknown Number:** *Are you awake, Little Bully?*

Shen stared at the screen, a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth. He didn't need a detective to know who this was. He swallowed hard and typed back with one thumb.

**Shen:** *How did you get my number?*

**Unknown Number:** *I own the app, Xiao Shen. I own the building you live in. I probably own the air you’re breathing right now. Don’t ask stupid questions.*

**Shen:** *I’m blocking you.*

**Unknown Number:** *If you block me, I’ll have your scooter towed from that illegal spot you parked it in. 3… 2… 1…*

Shen looked out the window at his beat-up scooter. He cursed under his breath.

**Shen:** *What do you want, you psycho? I’m working.*

**Unknown Number:** *I’m bored.

Entertainment in this city is at an all-time low. Come deliver me a coffee.*

**Unknown Number:** *Wait, no. A smoothie. One of those green ones that tastes like grass and regret.*

**Unknown Number:** *Actually, just come here and let me insult your shoes again. They were tragic.*

**Shen:** *Eat glass, Wei Xun. I’m not your personal servant. Call the app like a normal person.*

**Unknown Number:** *The app is too slow. I want the Guy. I’ll pay you double what you made yesterday just to stand in my kitchen and look annoyed for twenty minutes.*

Shen ignored the message and headed out. He spent the next four hours trying to work, but his phone was a war zone. Wei Xun was relentless. Every five minutes, a new notification popped up.

**Wei Xun:** *Did you die?*

**Wei Xun:** *If you died, who is going to tell me I’m a brat?*

**Wei Xun:** *I just bought a cat. It looks like you. Very grumpy and refuses to listen.*

**Wei Xun:** *[Image: A high-definition photo of a very expensive, very angry-looking Persian cat sitting on a silk pillow.]*

**Wei Xun:** *See? Identical.*

"I hate rich people," Shen hissed, dodging a delivery truck. "I hate them so much."

By 2:00 PM, Shen was exhausted and hungry. He stopped at a convenience store for a bun when his phone rang. It wasn't a text. It was a FaceTime call. He accidentally hit "Accept" while trying to shove the phone into his pocket.

The screen filled with Wei Xun’s face. He was wearing oversized designer sunglasses indoors, lounging by a pool that looked like it belonged in a movie.

"There he is," Wei Xun smirked, his voice dripping with privilege. "You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards, Shen."

"I'm at work, you absolute menace!" Shen yelled into the phone, ignoring the weird looks from the cashier. "Stop spamming me! I have a job! I have responsibilities! I don't have time to be your digital pet!"

"You're yelling again. It’s cute," Wei Xun said, tilting his head. "I sent a car to your location. It’s the black one with the tinted windows behind you. Get in. We’re going shopping."

Shen froze and turned around. A sleek, terrifyingly expensive sedan was idling right at the curb. The driver stepped out, looking like a professional hitman in a suit.

"I am not getting in that car," Shen said into the phone.

"The driver has a bag of those spicy dumplings you like," Wei Xun said casually. "And a new helmet for your sister. The pink one she wanted."

Shen’s jaw dropped. "How do you know about—"

"I told you, Shen. I’m an arrogant bastard with too much money. Now, get in the car before I have the driver start singing opera in the middle of the street. He’s terrible at it. It’ll be embarrassing for everyone."

Shen looked at the car, then at his phone, then at his bank balance.

"I’m going to kill you," Shen whispered.

"I’d like to see you try," Wei Xun laughed, and the line went dead.

Xiao Shen stomped toward the car, muttering every curse word he knew in three different languages. This wasn't a job anymore. This was a hostage situation, and the kidnapper had really good taste in dumplings.