Six months served in the detention center passed slowly and painstakingly, six months without visitors, six months without interaction with anyone but the guards who came to feed him, six months of nothing but a white walled cell with a hard bed and a toilet. LuHan had been allowed books but he had never been much of a reader; he had asked for an iPod or a laptop instead and only been laughed at in response. He spent six miserable months passing the daylight hours with  either sleeping, doing a small workout regimen consisting of push-ups and sit-ups, or playing solitaire with a deck of cards allowed him by the warden.

Six months finally passed, and on the day he was released he was in a fine mood. Happy to be out and sure he could blow off the Luo family with a bit of money offered, he left the detention center with a smile on his face and a bounce in his step. Back to life, finally! He exited the gates and saw his family’s driver standing beside a black Mercedes, the windows tinted so no one could see in, a cap being twisted in the man’s grip as he waited for LuHan. He saw the young man approaching just then, though, and placed his cap back on his greying head and opened the door for him. As LuHan slid into the back seat of the Mercedes, he was already contemplating what kind of car he ought to buy for himself and who he should go see first. He really wanted to just leave the whole scandal thing behind him, so he figured that Yixing would be the best bet; the heir to the largest hotel chain in Asia could hardly be bothered to care about anything than what was right in front of his nose, so he likely wouldn’t bring up the issue.

As the driver slid into the seat ahead of him, LuHan leaned forward to tap the older man on the shoulder. “Take me directly home and prepare one of the sports cars to leave; I’ll be going to the Zhang’s this evening. Oh, and drop by the Samsung store first; I want to buy a phone. I assume you have a company credit card so you’ll be paying for it.” The driver turned his head to say something in return but LuHan waved a hand in his direction and leaned back into his seat. “Drive! You aren’t paid to talk to me.”

A short pause and then the driver gave a sharp nod, the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he turned back and started the car. LuHan gave a sigh as he thought of the food he would order this evening, the alcohol - though he had been warned against alcohol; he was on a six month probation but they didn’t need to know about one drink, did they? – and the companionship of his friends. The car eased into traffic and the motion of the rolling vehicle lulled LuHan into a peaceful doze; he didn’t wake again until the driver stopped the car and turned off the ignition. 

Lifting his head from where he had it propped against the seat, LuHan stared out the window into a lower class neighborhood, the store fronts a bit shabby and rundown and the few restaurants in dire need of paint and remodeling. LuHan narrowed his grey-brown eyes, eyes that were so much like his father’s, and turned to the driver with a harsh look. “Where the hell did you take me? I said the Samsung store, you deaf little ,” he spat out, and the older man turned in his seat to grace him with a long suffering smile. 

“Master LuHan, do you know who pays my salary? Your father. And do you know what your father told me to do?”

“Take me somewhere and rob me?” LuHan muttered, watching a few little boys pass the car with a dirty soccer ball tucked under the shorter one’s arm.

The driver gave a snort before replying, “He told me to bring you here. This, LuHan, is where you’ll be spending the next six months of your life. This,” he pointed to one of the small restaurants and LuHan’s eyes grudging followed his finger to take in the brightly painted sign that cheerily proclaimed to have the best Chinese food in Beijing, “This is the establishment and the home of the Luo’s, the mother and younger brother of the boy you killed. And this, LuHan, is where the parole officer will be checking in to see how well you’re holding up. I do believe that your parole officer has already given you your options?”

Serve the family or serve in prison, LuHan remembered the man’s grim words as he had sat across the table in the interrogation room. “Yeah,” he replied to the driver weakly, his stomach suddenly in knots as he realized that it wasn’t a metaphorical serving but an actual, physical act required of him. No money was going to get him out of this one, and a heavy weight settled on him as he swallowed nervously. “I don’t have anything to wear,” he protested quietly, already knowing that it was a weak excuse, and the driver gave a weary smile and opened his car door to step out and move to the trunk. LuHan heard him rummaging around in it for a few moments, though he couldn’t tear his eyes away from that cheery red lettered