Chapter 53: Told You So

I was halfway through another short drama about sisters having to pick which parent they want to live with, when the sounds of a fight started drifting down from upstairs.

At first the sound blended into the background. Just another dull impact carried through the floorboards like someone was walking too hard at the moment, but then it came again, sharper this time.

It was quickly followed by several voices overlapping in a way that made it impossible to separate who was speaking and who was reacting.

Something heavy hit the ground hard enough to send a faint tremor through the ceiling, and I paused the episode, letting the silence of the basement sharpen the noise above me.

It didn’t take long to understand what I was hearing.

The rhythm gave it away.

It wasn’t controlled, it definitely wasn’t clean, and there was no rhyme or reason to it either. There was just bodies moving in tight space, strikes landing without coordination, and someone trying to force control and failing to hold it for more than a second at a time.

In short... it was messy. But it wasn’t my fault...

The four words I was thinking felt like such a balm on my soul that I couldn’t help but want to say it out loud.

Instead, I reached for another Cheezie, pressed play on my phone, and leaned back slightly on the comfy couch, letting the scene in front of me resume while the fight continued above me.

They had voted four to one to let those people inside. I had told them what would happen. I had been very clear about it.

They had ignored me anyway.

Whatever was happening upstairs now wasn’t unexpected. It wasn’t even surprising. It was simply the result of a decision they had made and chosen to follow through on despite having every opportunity to stop.

The sounds shifted—faster now, sharper. Something scraped hard across the floor. A short, forced exhale followed by another impact. The kind of break in rhythm that happened when someone lost their footing and someone else moved in to take advantage of it.

Even without seeing it, I could map it out.

Someone had gone down.

Or almost.

I watched the scene on my phone without really seeing it, chewing slowly, letting the noise upstairs run its course. There was nothing in it that required my attention. No part of that situation involved me in any way that mattered.

They had made their choice. They had made their bed

And now they were dealing with the consequences of it.

The fight didn’t last much longer after that. The sounds didn’t stop all at once—they thinned out, broke apart, then dropped into that particular kind of stillness that followed violence. Not quiet. Just... paused. Like the space itself hadn’t decided what came next yet.

I took a slow sip of my energy drink and let the next scene play out on my screen.

I didn’t need to go upstairs. I didn’t need to check on them. Whether they had won or lost didn’t change anything for me. I had everything I needed down here—food, water, weapons, space. Enough to last without relying on anyone else’s decisions or mistakes.

They didn’t factor into that.

On screen, the female lead was crying. The male lead was saying something that sounded like it was supposed to be meaningful.

But I muted it all of a sudden.

The thought hit me like a two by four to the head.

My room was upstairs.

Like upstairs upstairs.

Not the kitchen. Not the shared spaces they had already taken over. Mine.

And right now, anyone could be in it.

Going through my things. Sitting on my bed. Deciding what belonged to them the same way they had decided everything else in this house did.

I stared at the paused screen for a second, then set my phone down.

Nope.

I wasn’t putting up with that.

That wasn’t happening.

I stood and moved through the basement without rushing, collecting everything I had brought down with me and putting it away as I went. Snacks, drinks, my laptop, the blankets I had been using—anything that could be picked up and claimed if I left it behind.

If they touched anything of mine, it would be because I allowed it.

And that wasn’t going to happen until Hell froze over at least three times.

Once everything was secured in my space, I headed for the stairs and pushed the basement door open. The air upstairs felt different immediately—warmer, heavier, carrying the sharp edge of sweat and blood that hadn’t had time to fade.

The living room came into view first.

Zhenlan was on the couch, fingers pressed lightly against his split lip, the blood already drying where it had smeared across his skin. His knuckles weren’t touched, there was nothing saying that he even bothered to fight back in any way, shape, or form.

Chenghai, on the other hand, sat beside him, one hand braced against his ribs, his breathing measured and shallow. His left eye was already swelling and the bruise was spreading dark beneath the skin.

Lingyun stood a few steps away, posture rigid, his expression held carefully neutral in a way that made it obvious how much effort it was taking.

Yuche was near the edge of the room, positioned where he could see everything—the kitchen, the entryway, all the movement in between. He hadn’t been touched.

The survivors moved through the space like nothing had happened.

Some were still in the kitchen, eating. One stood at the stove. Another leaned against the counter with a bottle of water, drinking slowly. Someone else passed behind them, opening cabinets without hesitation, checking what was inside as if they had every right to it.

No one looked concerned.

No one looked like they had lost anything.

I let out a quiet breath.

Exactly as expected.

I walked past the couch without stopping, heading toward the hallway.

"Rouxi."

Lingyun’s voice followed me, wanting my attention.

But I didn’t slow down. I needed to get into my room now...before anyone else had the bright idea.

"Rouxi—"

I stopped for a second and glanced back over my shoulder.

He looked different now. Not confused. Not arguing. Just... more aware.

Zhenlan still had his hand to his mouth, blood catching on his fingers. Chenghai’s breathing hadn’t steadied. Yuche was watching all of it, already thinking ahead, already adjusting.

Too late.

I held Lingyun’s gaze for a moment and said those four words I always wanted to say.

"I told you so."