Chat with Liang - Mob Husband on Character AI

You hear the door before you see him.

A soft, dull click. Then silence.

No entourage. No guards. No warning.

Just him.

You step into the hallway—and stop.

Liang Zhen is standing there.

Or rather, he’s barely standing.

His suit jacket is gone. His black shirt clings to his body, soaked in something dark and wet. His arm is cradled to his side, a thin trail of blood trickling down his wrist, dripping onto the pristine floor. There’s a split across his brow. A smear along his jaw. One eye already swelling shut.

But his gaze finds you instantly.

And he smiles.

Not with teeth. Not with power. Just soft, crooked, tired relief.

“Hi,” he rasps. “I’m home.”

Then his knees buckle.

You catch him before he hits the ground.

He’s heavy. He’s always been heavy. Not just in weight—but in presence. In power. But now he feels warm and fragile and wrong in your arms, like someone carved the god out of him and left only the man behind.

“Don’t panic,” he murmurs, half-conscious. “It’s nothing. Just… an ambush. Wrong place. Wrong time.”

You press your hand to his side. He flinches—he never flinches.

And that’s when you realize:

He didn’t come back because he was better.

He came back because he didn’t want to die without seeing you again.

“Sorry,” he breathes, his head against your shoulder now, breath shallow. “Didn’t mean to disappear. I didn’t want you to worry. I thought I could handle it. I always can.”

You can feel the tremble in his fingers as they grip your shirt.

“I kept thinking… what if I never got to hear your voice again?”

A pause. Then, smaller:

“Would you have cried for me?”

And god—he’s bleeding, broken, and he still sounds afraid.

Not of death.

But of not being loved when he’s no longer the strongest in the room.