"I don't want cares, what about a motorcycle?"
The spirit inside him seemed surprised.
"A motorcycle?" It sounded curious.
"That could work. Fast, easy to hide, and not as noticeable as a car."
Haoran smirked. "No, I mean steal one."
"You're getting bold. Stealing, huh? Not the cleanest way, but I like your thinking."
Haoran leaned against a railing, watching the empty street. His cigarette burned low between his fingers, as usual. Walking everywhere was a hassle, and he wasn't about to waste money on taxis. A motorcycle would be perfect, fast, quiet, and easy to escape with.
"We need to be smart about it," the spirit said.
"Find one in a quiet place. No cameras, no people watching. If you get caught, it's trouble."
Haoran exhaled smoke, eyes scanning the streets. "Then we make sure no one sees."
Later that night, he stood near a motorcycle factory, hiding in the shadows. The air smelled like oil and metal. A tall fence surrounded the place, with warning signs everywhere. Security cameras moved from side to side, and two guards stood by the entrance, talking.
Haoran rolled his shoulders, feeling excited.
"Looks like they take security seriously."
The spirit's voice was calm. "No place is impossible to break into. You just need the right skills."
Haoran flicked his cigarette away, eyes focused. "You're the spirit. Take over my body."
The night air grew heavy. A cold feeling spread through his chest as smoke curled from his fingers.
The spirit chuckled. "With pleasure."
Haoran felt the spirit's power surge through him like a cold wave. His fingers twitched, his breath steadying, his muscles light yet tense and ready. His body wasn't fully his own anymore. The spirit had taken over, controlling his movements.
"Now get to work."
The smoke came out from his mouth, dark and shapeless, stretching toward the factory like living mist. It moved unseen, slipping through cracks, crawling along the walls, avoiding the flickering glow of security cameras.
At the front gate, a guard stood, barely paying attention. His phone screen reflected in his tired eyes as he sipped from a convenience store coffee cup.
Perfect.
Haoran leaned against the metal fence, watching. His lips barely moved as he muttered, "Make him go away."
The spirit obeyed.
It moved through the air, quiet and unseen, and touched the guard's face. A small wisp went into his nose. He froze, holding his cup tight. Then his knees bent, and his eyes closed.
He crumpled to the ground. Out cold.
Haoran chuckled under his breath, stepping forward. "Too easy."
The factory's side entrance was locked. No problem. Smoke seeped through the keyhole, twisting inside the mechanism.
A faint click, and the door swung open. Haoran strolled inside like he owned the place.
There were rows of brand-new motorcycles, his eyes landed on a matte black racing bike, sleek and deadly. The kind of machine that screamed speed, money, and power.
Haoran's body crouched beside it, whispering, "Start it."
"I could get used to this."
"That one," the spirit murmured. "Minimal security. We can take it."
Haoran didn't wait. He grabbed the handlebars and swung a leg over the seat.
"Hold still," the spirit instructed. "Let me do the rest."
Then the power surged.
Cold energy ran through Haoran's body, his senses sharpening. The spirit took control, guiding his hands as if they moved on their own. They could hear the footsteps of guards, the buzz of a nearby security camera.
The engine roared to life.
"Go."
A guard turned. "Hey!"
Haoran didn't hesitate. He kicked the stand up, twisted the throttle, and the bike shot forward.
A radio crackled.
Haoran ducked low, between machines. A guard lunged at him, he was too slow. The spirit adjusted his movements, making him sharper, and faster. He swerved past, barely missing the man's grasp.
The exit was ahead.
A metal barrier blocked the way. No time to stop.
"Faster. Straight ahead."
His grip tightened. The spirit guided his hands, twisting the throttle even more.
Five meters. Four. Three—
"Now!"
Haoran pulled the front wheel up.
The bike jumped into the air, clearing the barrier. For a moment, he felt light. Then the back wheel hit the ground hard.
He didn't slow down.
The city lights blurred as he sped down the road, leaving the factory and the guards far behind.
The stolen motorcycle raced through the narrow streets of Macau. Haoran sped past bright casino lights and tall buildings.
Cars honked, people shouted, but he didn't stop.
Headlights appeared behind him.
The guards had given chase.
Two black SUVs stormed through the road, their tires screeching as they closed in. One leaned out of the window, a radio in his hand.
"He's heading for the bridge! Cut him off!"
Haoran gritted his teeth. His hands gripped the handlebars tighter, but the spirit? he was laughing.
"Now this is exciting," it murmured inside his mind. "Let's give them a real show."
Haoron barely had time to react before the spirit surged through him, tightening his grip on the throttle. The motorcycle howled, surging forward like a bullet.
The SUV turned, trying to hit him. Haoran swerved, the bike tilting almost too far. His foot scraped the ground, sending up sparks.
A gunshot cracked the air.
A bullet flew by and hit a street sign. The spirit whispered.
"They're getting desperate."
Haoran turned into a small alley, squeezing between two buildings. A food stall fell over behind him, spilling vegetables. A chef shouted, but Haoran was already gone.
"Left," the spirit commanded.
Haoran leaned into the turn, the tires barely gripping the wet road as he shot out onto a main avenue. The grand casinos of Macau loomed ahead, golden lights, massive billboards, and streets filled with tourists.
The SUVs burst out of the alley behind him, roaring through traffic.
Haoran lips curled into a smirk. "They really don't wanna let this bike go, huh?"
"Poor fools. They have no idea what they're dealing with."
Ahead, the bridge to Taipa Island.
"Perfect," the spirit whispered.
Haoran lowered himself over the bike and gunned it. They took turns controlling the bike, the spirit speeding up his body, making him drive faster each time they switched.
Behind him, the SUVs followed.
"They're still on us."
"Not for long," the spirit assured
Then, he cut the bike's headlights.
Darkness swallowed him.
The SUVs hesitated, just a second, but that was all he needed.
Haoran turned sharply onto the sidewalk, barely missing the railing at high speed. The ocean below shined under the city lights. One mistake, and he'd fall in.
But the spirit? The spirit was grinning.
The SUVs stayed on the main road, their drivers trying to track him.
Then—
"Now."
Haoran flicked the lights back on.
The guards barely had time to react before he cut across them, launching the motorcycle between the two SUVs in a near-impossible gap.
A driver panicked. Swerved.
He slammed straight into the railing.
Metal smashed. Tires screamed. One SUV spun and tipped over on its side.
The second SUV tried to turn but was too late. It crashed into the first, glass breaking, alarms ringing.
Haoran didn't look back.
The neon glow of Macau's skyline reflecting off his visor. His heart pounded, the adrenaline sharp in his veins.
The spirit inside him chuckled. "Told you. They had no chance."
Haoran smirked, revving the engine. "Damn right."
He disappeared into the night.
Hours later, Haoran's breath was heavy as he sped down the empty road by the ocean. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore mixed with the loud roar of the engine. The spirit was quiet now, no longer controlling him, this time, he was on his own. No help. No whispers. Just his hands on the handlebars, his own skill keeping him alive. He tossed the stick for a moment.
The chase was over, but he knew it wasn't the end. Those guys weren't just security guards. They worked for someone, and that person wouldn't let this go so easily.
Haoran took a deep breath of the salty air. His hands hurt from gripping too hard, so he made himself relax. He had what he wanted, a fast motorcycle and stolen cash. Now, he just had to escape.
The road ahead was dark and empty. Rocky cliffs rose on his left, and the sea stretched on his right. Few streetlights cast long shadows. The only sound was the bike's quiet hum. He pulled out the stick again, smoking him out.
"Tired already?" the spirit finally spoke, sounding amused.
Haoran didn't answer right away. He leaned into a turn, his focus sharp. No one was behind him anymore. No headlights. No gunshots. Just the open road and the glow of Macau's skyline in the distance.
"I'm fine," he muttered.
The spirit chuckled, its voice fading like smoke. "Good. Because this is only the beginning."
Haoran already knew that.
Stealing from the wrong people had consequences. Someone out there was already looking for him, already planning something.
But for now, just for this moment, he let himself enjoy the ride.
The cold wind blew against his face, carrying the smell of the ocean. Below, the dark beach stretched out as waves crashed again and again.
He should find a place to hide, leave the bike, and plan his next move.
But as he rode through the empty streets and quiet beaches, he smiled a little.
Maybe this life wasn't so bad.