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Chapter Text

Shuai walked with soft steps toward the familiar clinic, Hanging plants swaying gently in the humid air.

The streets were quiet—almost reverent—as if the world knew not to disturb the delicate calm he carried. His hands were tucked into the sleeves of his sweater, and his breaths came out a little ragged from the heat lingering in the city.

He’d forgotten his heat suppression pills.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a big deal. He was stable. His body obedient. His scent light and easy to manage—until tonight.

The moment Shuai stepped past the clinic’s doorframe, his world twisted.

The air shifted.

Thick, heavy, intoxicating pheromones hit him like a crashing wave. It was hot and raw, curling around his lungs and throat like fire. His pupils dilated instantly. The scent wasn’t just strong—it was overwhelming.

His knees buckled as realization struck.

Chi and Suowei.

The scent—their scent—saturated the clinic’s walls, clinging to the herbs, the wood, the floors. It was intimate. Sensual. And unrelenting.

Shuai stumbled backward, gripping the doorframe for balance. His heart raced, thudding wildly in his ears. He couldn’t breathe. His fingers trembled, and a cold sweat broke across his back as the faint, buried heat in his body ignited like dry kindling.

No. Not now.

His omega instincts screamed, the suppressed heat buried beneath layers of control suddenly clawing its way out.

His breath caught—he gasped, trying to suck in oxygen that wouldn’t come. His body burned, flushed red and hot. The room spun. He pushed the door open and staggered outside into the night.

The air didn’t help.

He barely made it two steps before his vision blurred. Everything was too bright. Too loud. His stomach churned. He leaned against the wall by the sidewalk, heaving, chest rising and falling in sharp jerks as if his lungs had forgotten how to breathe.

Sweat drenched him. His knees gave way.

Then—

An arm caught him.

Strong. Steady.

"He blinked, dazed, his vision full of light and color. His burning body curled toward the scent—clean, masculine, comforting, and vaguely familiar."

Then the world went dark.

Earlier That Evening

The backroom of the clinic was quiet—at first.

Chi had Shuowei pressed against the herb shelf, their mouths locked in a kiss so deep it nearly stole both their breaths. Shuowei’s hands had found their way beneath Chi’s shirt, delicate fingers tracing muscle with lazy reverence. Chi growled low in his throat, restraint thinning with every second.

Their heat was slow and simmering, pheromones already thick in the air.

Shuowei’s legs wrapped around Chi’s hips as Chi leaned in, kissing his neck, his jaw, his shoulder—eyes dark with hunger. The room pulsed with the scent of desire.

Then Chi froze.

His nose twitched.

A scent cut through the haze like ice through steam.

Familiar. Fragile. Sweet.

Shuai.

Chi ripped himself away from Shuowei in an instant, the arousal in his body snuffed out like a candle.

“Shit,” he hissed.

Shuowei blinked, startled. “What?”

“Shuai,” Chi growled, already halfway to the door. “His scent—he was here.”

Worry gnawed at Chi’s chest.

They’d triggered Shuai’s heat.

They hadn’t meant for anyone to come by. They thought they were alone.

They were wrong.

Shuowei grabbed his coat and ran after him.

By the time they reached the street, a small crowd had already gathered near the sidewalk.

Panic flared in Chi’s chest—then settled into something deeper and colder when he saw who held Shuai in his arms.

Guo Chengyu.

He sat on the ground with Shuai curled protectively in his lap. His coat was draped over Shuai’s trembling body. One arm held him close, the other steadying them both. Chengyu’s eyes were dark, unreadable—but unwaveringly focused on Shuai.

Chi stopped in his tracks.

Shuowei didn’t. He stormed forward.

“Hey—HEY!” Shuowei barked. “Put him down! Who the hell are you?!”

Chengyu’s gaze lifted—calm, unflinching. “He’s overheating.”

“I don’t care,” Shuowei snapped. “Hand him over.”

“I’m not handing him to anyone,” Chengyu said, voice quiet but firm.

Chi moved up beside Shuowei, placing a hand on his arm. “Wait…”

“No, Chi! This man—who even is he?! How can you stop me from getting our friend back!”

There was a long, tense silence.

“Shuai’s my best friend,” Shuowei growled. “Get. Away. From. Him.”

Chengyu’s hold didn’t loosen. “If I let go now, he’ll collapse again.”

Chi stared at Chengyu, studying his face.

There was no lust in his eyes.

No opportunism.

Only quiet, sharp-edged intent—and something dangerously focused.

Then Shuai stirred in Chengyu’s arms, whimpering weakly.

That broke the standstill.

Chi exhaled, shoulders slumping. He placed a firm hand on Shuowei’s chest, stopping him from lunging again.

“He’s not hurting him,” Chi murmured. “He’s stabilizing him.”

Suowei hesitated. “…You’re seriously just going to let some random person carry him off?”

Chi met Chengyu’s eyes. They held—for just a moment.

“No,” he said. “Not random. Not to him.”

Suowei looked between them, incredulous, but didn’t argue further.

Chengyu stood, Shuai still bundled in his coat and arms. The crowd parted.

As Chengyu passed Chi, their eyes met again.

And for the briefest moment—Chi saw it.

A flicker of something ancient. Calculated.

Possessive.

Then they were gone.

Chi just sighed before returning to the clinic with Shuowei.

In the car...

Chengyu had released his own pheromones to soothe Shuai, scenting him gently to ease the worst of the heat.

He carried Shuai into his car, the windows fogged from body heat and panic. Shuai’s face was still red, damp with sweat, his breathing shallow but steady. Chengyu cradled him the entire ride, his hand never once leaving Shuai’s cheek—as if grounding him was the only thing keeping himself sane.

The faintest scent of other alphas still clung to Shuai’s body, and Chengyu hated it.

He hated how pale Shuai looked. How limp. How fragile.

But more than anything—

He hated that someone else had caused it.

“How can they be so careless…” he muttered, almost to himself.

He brushed the damp hair from Shuai’s forehead and whispered, “I’m here.”

Shuai whimpered faintly in his sleep, curling closer to Chengyu’s chest.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” Chengyu whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

The heat hadn’t broken fully yet, but with the suppression pills finally found—and with Chengyu’s careful touch, calm scent, and gentle restraint—Shuai was finally beginning to settle.

The car was quiet.

Just the soft hum of the engine and Shuai’s breath.

Chengyu looked down at the sleeping omega in his arms.

Then, softly—almost like a secret—he murmured:

“I got you.”

Chapter Text

The next day...

Chi and Suowei were curled up on the bed in the back room. Morning light filtered in through the window.

“Da Bao, I’m gonna go check on Shuai,” Chi said, sitting up.

“I’ll come with you,” Suowei offered, already moving.

“No, I’ll go for now,” Chi replied gently.

“Who’s that guy anyway?” Suowei asked, curious.

“My childhood friend,” Chi said shortly.

Suowei nodded. “Fine. I need to go to the company anyway. But tell Shuai I said hi… and to message me.” Worry was clear in his voice.

Chi gave a small nod and leaned down to kiss Suowei’s forehead. Then the two got dressed to start the day.

Chi showed up at Guo Chengyu’s place early the next morning, his mind restless and filled with worry for Shuai. He hadn’t slept well, anxious about how Shuai was holding up.

Chengyu led him in without a word.

Shuai was still asleep—deep, dreamless, and safe. He was curled up in Chengyu’s bed, cocooned in a nest of soft blankets and Chengyu’s clothes. The scent of the Enigma surrounded him like a protective shield.

Chi’s eyes scanned the room, then the sleeping form. Nothing looked wrong.

Just exhaustion.

Relief loosened something tight in his chest.

Later, they sat at the bar counter, cigarettes burning down slowly in their fingers.

Chengyu started, voice low. “You hid him well... for years.” He chuckled, but there was no humor in it.

"Chi took a long drag of his cigarette, then said flatly, 'You just weren’t interested enough to look.'"

“I thought the scent I picked up on you back then was just some perfume,” Chengyu admitted. “Didn’t think much of it… until the lagoon. That’s when I really got a whiff of it. But by then, you were already with Shuo. So I kept wondering—why the hell did you have that scent on you?”

He looked over at Chi, smirking. “Tell me the truth, Chi. Were you cheating on Shuo all along?”

Chi punched him lightly in the stomach. “Don’t be a dick. No, I wasn’t. Shuai came before Shuo.”

It still hurt to say his name—Shuo—but right now, clearing Shuai’s name mattered more.

Chengyu just smiled and said nothing. The punch stung, but it was deserved.

“Don’t rush him,” Chi said after a moment. His voice was softer now. “Take it slow. He’s not ready yet… but I think he remembers you. Somewhere, deep down.”

He paused.

“And… he loves your cooking.”

Chengyu’s eyes widened. “You fed him my food?!”

Chi raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. And he kept asking for more.”

“How the hell did you two even meet?” Chengyu asked, still reeling. “I was around you all the time—how come I never saw him?”

Chi looked at Guozi, his eyes drifting to the room where Shuai was.

Chi scoffed to himself.
The memory was still sharp—still vivid.

He still couldn’t believe it: a simple sprained ankle had changed the course of his entire life.

He had meant to court Shuai back then. But Shuai was already in love—head over heels—for that asshole boyfriend of his. When Chi playfully confessed, Shuai had gently rejected him.

Still, Chi kept showing up at the clinic. Always with a new excuse: a sore wrist, a cut on his arm, even just a headache. Things he could’ve easily handled on his own. But he wanted to see Shuai. Just to be near him. To watch those calm hands work. To hear his quiet voice.

Eventually, they became friends.

And they stayed close—through college, even after Chi started dating Wang Shuo. Even when things got more complicated.

His feelings for Shuai slowly faded as Wang Shuo took up more space in his heart.

Shuo, who loved snakes. Their relationship had been intense—almost obsessive. He was the third person Chi had truly let in.

For a time, Chi thought it was love. Maybe it was—in a fragile, complicated way.

But it ended in betrayal.

Wang Shuo had cheated on him—with Guo Chengyu.

His childhood friend. His brother. The man who had always had his back.

Chi never saw it coming.

After that, Wang Shuo disappeared from Beijing—gone for seven long years.

Chi clung to Shuai during that time. And Shuai held him, quietly.

Things between Chi and Guozi were never quite the same. They remained brothers, but something had broken. The trust was scorched at the edges. Still, Chi stayed. Guozi stayed. And Shuai remained his constant—quiet, steady, hidden.

Shuai existed like a small, warm light in the middle of Chi’s darkest days.

Their relationship had never been romantic. Never physical. But it was sacred to Chi. The one bond he never risked. He never brought his boyfriends around Shuai—not even Shuo. Not even Guozi.

Things changed after college. Shuai got busy working at the hospital. Chi was dealing with heartbreak and his fallout with Guozi. Their communication dwindled, and eventually, Shuai and his boyfriend, Meng Tao, moved to Shanghai.

Things were a little tough—but not as much as they would be three years later.

After Shuai’s move to Shanghai, the distance and sparse communication nearly ended things between them. Shuai was always working—long hospital shifts, emergency calls, constant exhaustion—and dealing with his boyfriend, as Meng Tao had decided they should live together.

Somewhere in that timeline, the two broke up.

Then something happened.

Something terrible.

Chi still remembers that day like a punch to the chest.

He had just finished his snake match with Guozi—a tradition that existed after Shuo. For some reason, he wanted to see Shuai and check on him after learning about the breakup. He drove from Beijing to Shanghai. Hours on the road.

He still remembered that apartment. The one he’d bought for Shuai as a gift after he landed the hospital job. Shuai had kept it a secret from Meng Tao.

After they broke up, Shuai moved there alone.

When Chi stepped inside, the place was... still. Too still.

No music. No humming. No sound of slippers on tile. Just silence.

He was about to leave when he heard a phone ringing. It was coming from the bathroom.

He knocked. No answer.

The ringing didn’t stop.

Something felt wrong.

He forced the door open.

And found Shuai in the bathtub.

Chi would never forget the sight.

Not red. The water was pink. Pale. Blood diluted into the water like soft smoke.

Shuai was slumped, one wrist hanging over the edge. His face was ghostly pale. Lips slightly parted. His other hand still gripped a soaked razor.

Chi didn’t scream. He didn’t even utter Shuai’s name.

He couldn’t.

He just moved.

He wrapped towels around the wounds, pressed down hard, dragged Shuai out of the tub. He swore the entire drive to the hospital, hands trembling on the wheel.

Shuai lived.

When he woke up, he didn’t cry. He didn’t explain.

He just whispered, “Don’t tell anyone. Please.”

Chi never did.

He sat beside that hospital bed for hours, cold coffee in hand, staring at the man who had once patched up his ankle with steady hands and a quiet frown.

A man who had quietly given and given until there was nothing left.

What had pushed Shuai to that moment?

Chi never got the full story. But he had a strong suspicion.

He remembered the man who used to wait outside the clinic. The one who clung to Shuai like a leash. The one whose eyes said, You don’t belong to yourself.

Meng Tao.

Chi dug into the man. What he found made his blood boil. Worse than when he discovered Shuo had cheated. Worse than when Guozi had betrayed him.

Meng Tao had fled the country.

Chi made a silent promise: when he returned, there would be consequences.

---

Chi became even more protective of Shuai.

He thought the hardest part was watching Shuai fall apart—and knowing he hadn’t been there to stop it.
But no, the hardest part was picking Shuai up and rebuilding him piece by piece.

Shuai, who always had a smile ready—gone.

Shuai, who had once welcomed his touch, now flinched at the slightest brush of fingers. His body constantly on edge.

Nightmares plagued him.

He couldn’t go outside without fear—paranoid that people were watching, judging. His mind twisted strangers’ stares into silent condemnation.

Shuai closed off, and Chi never left him alone. Afraid that if he did, Shuai would just vanish.

He patiently took care of Shuai—his needs, his silences, his wounds. Until, slowly, Shuai began to come back to life.

It started with a call from a patient—an emergency.

Shuai responded.

Chi picked him up afterward, expecting silence. But Shuai looked at him—really looked—for the first time in what felt like forever.

And then Shuai broke.

He wept.

And Chi held him the entire night.

---

After that, Chi moved Shuai back to Beijing.

Not into the city, but a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts. Calm. Safe.

He bought him a small apartment. Called it a gift—for surviving.

Later, Shuai said he wanted to open a clinic.

Chi helped.

They found a sunlit little space nearby. Peaceful. Simple. A place where Shuai could finally practice again, far from the noise of the past.

And like always, Chi kept him hidden.

But secrets don’t stay hidden forever.

And somehow—without Chi’s help—Guozi found Shuai.

"Well, let’s just say it was the day you decided to skip class after our drinking session," said Chi

Chapter Text

The squeak of rubber shoes echoed through the gymnasium.

Chi Cheng sprinted across the court, dribbling hard as his teammates shouted out plays. Sweat clung to his shirt, his hair already damp from the scrimmage.

“Pass it, Chi!” someone yelled from the wing.

“Hell no, I got this!” Chi shouted back, grinning as he dodged one defender.

But his foot landed wrong—just slightly—and his ankle twisted hard with a nasty pop. He let out a sharp grunt and went down like a sack of bricks.

The ball rolled off across the court.

“Shit,” one of his teammates muttered, jogging over. “You good?”

Chi didn’t answer right away. He was too busy clenching his jaw and glaring at his foot like it had personally betrayed him.

“Yeah, he’s not getting back up,” another player said, already pulling out his phone. “I’m calling the clinic.”

“I’m fine,” Chi grunted, trying to sit up. Then immediately winced. “Okay. Maybe not.”

“Dude, your ankle’s swelling like a balloon.”

“You think they’ve got someone hot working the clinic today?” Chi muttered through the pain.

His teammate snorted. “Seriously?”

Chi groaned as he was helped to his feet. “If I’m gonna suffer, I’d at least like some eye candy.”

They limped off the court, Chi leaning heavily on his friend.

The clinic at the far end of the university building always smelled like antiseptic and liniment. A place most students avoided unless absolutely necessary, it was rarely busy—except during exam season or intramural games. That day, however, a different kind of chaos limped its way in.

The door flung open, and a tall young man leaned against his teammate, his brow furrowed in annoyance rather than pain.

“He sprained his ankle,” the friend announced, panting as if they had sprinted the last flight of stairs.

“Have him sit on the bed,” came a calm voice from behind a desk.

Shuai stood, setting down a clipboard, white coat crisp and neatly buttoned over his simple collared shirt. His hair was tucked behind one ear, revealing sharp features and a clinical, unreadable gaze.

Chi Cheng turned his head—and promptly forgot whatever pain he’d been feeling.

“Holy shit.”

The world stopped for a moment—not because of the sprain, but because the person in front of him looked like he had just stepped out of a dream. Ethereal, poised, with a porcelain quality to his expression, like he didn’t belong to this world—let alone this dull university clinic.

“Hi,” Shuai said, approaching with a slight frown.

“So what seems to be the problem?”

Chi blinked. “Wow. I didn’t know we had a cute nurse on campus.”

His friend snorted, chiming in, “Yeah. Stunning, really.”

“You’re lucky, bro,” Chi’s teammate said. “There’s someone cute in the clinic.”

Shuai didn’t even blink. Arms crossed, voice flat, he said, “I’m not a nurse. I’m going to be a doctor. See the coat?”

Chi stared. Was it weird that he found the condescension kind of hot?

Even the sarcasm had bite—Chi's heart did a stupid little flip.

“Sit him down properly,” Shuai continued, his tone professional. “Let me take a look.”

Chi winced as he was guided onto the bed, then lifted his leg onto the footrest. Shuai knelt beside him, examining the swelling already blooming around his ankle. His fingers were careful, exact, his touch surprisingly gentle. He reached for a canister and began spraying a cooling mist over the injury.

Chi watched him like he was being shown a magic trick.

“Wow,” he murmured, voice soft with awe.

Shuai glanced up, eyebrow lifting again. “What?”

“You have soft hands.”

Shuai rolled his eyes but said nothing.

Chi grinned. “Wanna date me?”

Shuai didn’t even look up this time. “No, thank you. I have a boyfriend.”

“Ouch,” Chi pouted dramatically. “You should’ve led with that. Saved me the heartache.”

“Should’ve kept your mouth shut,” his friend muttered.

But Chi wasn’t listening. His attention remained fixed on Shuai—on the way he moved, the concentration in his brows, the practiced delicacy of his fingers. He wanted to keep talking just to see how many expressions he could pull from the man’s otherwise serene face.

“So what’s his name? Your boyfriend?” Chi tried again.

“None of your business,” Shuai replied dryly, applying light pressure to Chi’s ankle. “This might sting.”

Chi hissed. “You wound me.”

“You’re already wounded,” Shuai shot back, standing and grabbing a roll of bandage. “No need for me to make it worse.”

Chi’s friend was practically laughing now, thoroughly entertained. “You’ve met your match.”

But Chi wasn’t discouraged.

He studied Shuai quietly for a moment. The man’s hands moved with a rhythm, precise and familiar, like he had done this hundreds of times.

“You’re good at this,” Chi said after a moment.

“Of course I am,” Shuai replied without missing a beat. “I’m going to be a doctor.”

Since then what started as a follow-up visit for his ankle turned into something else entirely. His injury healed, but his visits didn’t stop. He began dropping by after training, sometimes even helping Shuai carry things, sometimes just sitting quietly and waiting while Shuai handled patients. Their conversations flowed more naturally with each passing day.

Chi told him stories—wild, exaggerated ones—about their team's win during intrams. About how Shuo almost tripped during the finals but still scored the last goal. Shuai would chuckle, distractedly scribbling notes, occasionally offering sarcastic commentary that only made Chi talk more.

“Hi, Doc,” Chi greeted as he walked in.

“Why are you here again? Don’t you have any classes?” Shuai asked, glancing up from his paperwork.

“No scheduled classes today. Besides, I can’t really play now, as you can see.” Chi held up his foot, now wrapped in fresh bandages.

Shuai raised a brow. “How is it?”

“It’s not aching much,” Chi replied.

“Let me see.”

Chi sat on the edge of the bed, lifting his leg slightly so Shuai could inspect the injury. Shuai crouched down, gently unwrapping the bandage.

“I really like your hands, Doc,” Chi said with a grin.

Shuai didn’t look up. “And I’ve told you before—I’m not available, and I don’t entertain anyone.” He examined the foot carefully, then nodded and re-wrapped it with practiced ease. “It looks good. Still, be cautious when you walk.”

---

Later, Chi found Chengyu in the cafeteria and plopped down in front of him, still clearly in a mood.

“You look lively,” Guozi commented after sipping his soup.

“It’s nothing,” Chi muttered, shaking his head.

---

Chi’s visits to the clinic became a daily routine whenever classes were in session. He always dropped by—sometimes limping, sometimes not—but always with something in hand. It started with a brownie, then slowly turned into full meals. Shuai never asked for anything, but he never refused either.

And soon, friendship bloomed.

Shuai would smile widely whenever Chi walked in. He’d tease him, roll his eyes at Chi’s antics, but never once told him to stop coming.

One afternoon, Chi dropped by again—this time with his ankle wrapped haphazardly in gauze. Shuai was laughing, unable to hide his amusement.

“You are so bad at this,” Shuai said, reaching down to fix the mess Chi had made.

“Hey, I’m a political science major, not med, dear,” Chi quipped, watching as Shuai efficiently undid and re-wrapped the bandage.

“I think you should stop playing basketball. You keep ending up here with sprained ankles. Maybe basketball doesn’t like you,” Shuai teased.

Chi laughed. “This is a normal injury for house league players. And it’s just a minor sprain.”

They were still laughing when Meng Tao walked in.

The smile vanished from Shuai’s face the moment he saw him. Chi looked up, catching the shift in the air.

Tao’s expression was dark as he strode over and grabbed Shuai by the wrist—too tightly.

“Ah—” Shuai flinched.

Chi stood up immediately. “Hey, what’s your problem?”

“Hey, calm down,” Shuai said quickly, trying to defuse the situation. “Meng Tao, this is Chi Cheng. He’s a political science student. He’s just here for treatment.”

Shuai tried to pull his hand free subtly, wincing from the grip.

“Why is he here?” Meng Tao asked sharply.

“I just told you—he’s here for treatment,” Shuai said, a little firmer this time.

Tao didn’t say anything for a long moment. His eyes stayed locked on Chi, unreadable.

“Aren’t you early?” Shuai asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” Tao replied blandly.

Shuai’s brows furrowed at the flat tone.

“Are you done here?” Tao asked after a pause. “We should leave.”

Shuai hesitated, then nodded and gave Chi a brief smile.

“I’ll see you around,” he said softly before following Tao out of the clinic.

Chapter Text

“You guys are playing jokes on me,” Guozi grumbled, crossing his arms as he plopped down on the bench beside Chi. His expression was sour, cheeks puffed in frustration. “You said there’s a hot doctor in the clinic. I went there, and guess who I saw? A grandma. A sweet one, yeah, but not the hottie you promised. Where is he, huh?”

Chi burst into laughter, nudging Guozi with his elbow. “That’s what you get for skipping classes. You missed out on the fun.”

The rest of their teammates roared in agreement. Shuo slapped the table, wheezing. “Seriously, man, Shuai was there all week. You just had the worst timing.”

It really wasn’t intentional. Guozi’s visits always seemed to miss Shuai’s shift schedule by mere hours, and after weeks of failed sightings, he started to believe the “hot doctor” was a running prank.

At lunch break Chi is trudging the familiar hallway of the clinic.

"Here," he said, grinning as he placed the neatly wrapped container on Shuai’s desk. “Guozi baked this. Said I could share. I took the biggest slice.”

Shuai, already tired from the morning rush, peeked inside, curious. The cake was soft, fluffy, and filled with mango cream. He took one bite. Then another. His tired brain nearly short-circuited with pleasure.

“Oh my god,” Shuai moaned around a bite, eyes fluttering shut. “This is so good. Like… really good.”

Chi leaned on the table, watching Shuai devour the cake with something between amusement and fondness. “Glad you like it.”

“I like your friend,” Shuai said without looking up. “Maybe I should be friends with him instead of you.”

Chi clutched his chest in mock pain. “Wow. Replaced because of cake. I see how it is.”

“Priorities,” Shuai teased, licking cream off his thumb.

It was that day that solidified their strange friendship—a bond cemented by sponge cake and mango cream. Chi would later say that Shuai’s friendship was bought with baked goods. Shuai didn’t deny it.

From then on, their bond grew closer.

Shuai didn’t mind Chi’s presence. In fact, he liked it. The clinic could get stifling, especially when Meng Tao visited. With Chi, things were easy. Comfortable. Shuai could laugh around him without bracing for a mood shift.

Things were different when Tao was there.

The first time Chi met Meng Tao was… awkward.

It happened after school. Chi and Shuai were walking side by side to the parking lot, casually chatting about how Shuo nearly fell face-first into a bush during their morning jog.

Just as Shuai was laughing, a sleek black car pulled up beside them and rolled to a stop. The tinted window slid down, revealing Tao’s face—expressionless, eyes unreadable.

Chi’s steps slowed but didn’t falter. He glanced at Shuai. Then at Tao. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, polite but distant.

They locked eyes for a few seconds. Neither blinked.

The tension crackled like static.

Then Chi broke the stare, turning to Shuai. “Bye, Shuai. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. See you,” Shuai waved, confused by the sudden heaviness.

He slid into the passenger seat, shutting the door gently. The car felt colder than usual.

“Who’s that?” Tao asked as he pulled away from the lot.

“A patient,” Shuai answered casually, not thinking much of it. “He hurt his ankle a while back. Comes to the clinic sometimes.”

Tao was quiet for a moment, jaw tight.

Then, out of nowhere, he said, “I’ll be away for a week. I have to go to my parents’ house.”

Shuai blinked. “Oh… okay.”

When the car pulled up to his apartment building, Tao leaned over to kiss him on the lips. It was brief. Mechanical. Shuai smiled anyway, out of habit.

“Take care,” he said.

He watched the car disappear down the street.

But the moment it was gone, the tension in his chest eased. He didn’t know why.

Maybe it was Tao’s silence. Maybe it was that strange encounter with Chi—especially when the two were finally introduced.

“That day was awful,” Shuai murmured.

Or maybe, it was the growing realization that the clinic felt lighter—warmer—when Tao wasn’t around.

That night, Shuai thought of the cake again. Of Chi’s easy smile. Of how naturally they talked.

And he smiled.

He was starting to look forward to tomorrow.

Their friendship continues even when Chi got a boyfriend.

“Hi Shuai, sorry it took me so long to visit,” Chi said as he stepped inside, sunlight catching on the plastic bag in his hand.

It was a bright, sunny day when he dropped by, arms full of food and souvenirs from his recent trip with Shuo and Guozi. Shuai welcomed him in with a warm smile—looking healthier, lighter, in better spirits than the last time they’d seen each other.

They settled at the small kitchen table in the clinic’s break room, unwrapping neatly packed containers of food. The scent filled the space, rich and warm.

The moment Shuai took his first bite, he paused mid-chew, eyes going wide. “This is amazing,” he said, nearly melting into his chair. “Where did you buy this?”

Chi smirked, watching him with quiet satisfaction. “Guozi made it.”

"Shuai blinked in surprise, then eagerly took another bite. 'He cooked this? He knows how to bake and now he can cook a full meal too?”

“Yup. He insisted I bring some over for lunch, so here I am—sharing it with you.”

“Wait, I think your priorities have shifted,” Shuai said between bites. “Don’t you have a boyfriend? Why are you eating this with me? Not that I’m not grateful—this tastes like heaven.”

“Shuo doesn’t have any classes today, so I’ll hang out with him at my place later,” Chi said.

“Nice,” Shuai replied.

Shuai groaned in delight. “Tell this Guozi I want to meet him. I’ll ask him to cook for me personally.”

Chi leaned back in his chair, pretending to sulk. “Nope. That’s not happening.”

“Why not?” Shuai grinned, clearly joking.

Chi sighed dramatically, but there was something real underneath. “I’m already sharing you with your boyfriend. I’m not sharing you with Guozi too.”

Of course, Shuai didn’t catch the undertone. He just laughed, licking sauce off his lips as he kept eating with innocent delight. “Still, thank Guozi for me, yeah? I seriously love his cooking.”

Chi gave him a long, amused look. “Yeah… you clearly forgot about me the second you tasted the food.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Shuai teased, smacking Chi’s shoulder lightly. “You brought it, so you get credit too.”

“Mm-hmm,” Chi muttered, lips twitching into a reluctant smile. He wouldn’t say it aloud, but hearing Shuai moan appreciatively over Guozi’s cooking stirred something deep in him—warmth, fondness... and a pang of something he refused to name.

He stored the moment away like a treasure. Just like always.

“I have a boyfriend now,” Chi said with a quiet smile, pride softening his features. “Guozi said I’m head-over-heels.”

“The three of us went on a trip.”

“Three?” Shuai asked, surprised.

“Yeah. I brought Shuo—my boyfriend—and Guozi.”

“Guozi’s now our official videographer,” Chi chuckled. “Always filming something.”

Shuai raised a brow. “Doesn’t your boyfriend get jealous of Guozi?”

“Why would he?” Chi shrugged. “Guozi’s always been by my side. There’s no reason to be jealous. Actually, they’ve become good friends.”

Shuai pouted. “Wow. Your boyfriend gets you and Guozi. And here I am—known you longer than your boyfriend, and you’ve never even introduced me to anyone.”

Chi smiled, his voice dropping to something gentler, a little more intimate. “Why would I? You’re only for my eyes. For me to keep.”

“That’s creepy,” Shuai teased with a laugh. “Still, I’d love to meet this Guozi and your boyfriend. Maybe I’ll spill some of your secrets.”

Chi lunged suddenly, tackling Shuai onto the clinic bed. Shuai shrieked in surprise, then burst into laughter as Chi tickled him mercilessly.

His laugh rang through the clinic like sunlight.

Flushed and breathless, Shuai clutched at Chi’s shirt. Chi hovered above him, unmoving. His eyes softened as he looked down at the man beneath him, so close, so unaware.

Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together.

“You’re someone I’m afraid to share…” he murmured, almost too quietly.

Then he straightened, helping Shuai sit properly again.

“What’s your boyfriend like?” Shuai asked a few minutes later after they both stood up, cheeks still pink.

“He’s handsome. Narrowed eyes, beautiful smile. He likes snakes. Actually, I got one now because of him—want to see?”

Shuai laughed nervously. “I’m kind of scared of snakes. Don’t they bite?”

“They do,” Chi said with a sly grin. “But mine’s gentle. He’ll treat you right.”

Shuai stared at him for a beat, then—realization slowly dawning—he grabbed a pillow and smacked it into Chi’s face. “Pervert.”

Chi burst into laughter and hugged Shuai from behind. “Now I’ve got my daily dose of Dr. Shuai. I can survive the rest of the day.”

“I’ll see you again later. I’ve got class in fifteen minutes,” Chi said, reluctantly pulling away.

“Then go. I’ve got class too. I’ll clock out soon here,” Shuai said, adjusting his coat.

---

Chi stepped out of the clinic feeling lighter.

He changed into a fresh shirt and sprayed himself with pheromone eraser—wiping away every trace of Shuai from his scent, even if part of him wanted to keep it.

---

That evening, Shuai was picked up by Meng Tao, who pulled up with the same calm, unreadable expression he always wore. Shuai greeted him with a gentle hug, sliding into the passenger seat.

But as Tao leaned in, his nose twitched.

“You smell like Chi.”

Shuai blinked. “Oh... right. He dropped by earlier. We had lunch.”

It was said casually—like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Tao’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Did he fuck you?”

“What?” Shuai’s voice shot up. “Why would you say that?”

“You’re my boyfriend,” Tao said, tone clipped, “and we haven’t even done it. What makes you think I wouldn’t wonder if your ‘friend’ got there first?”

Shuai stared at him, stunned. “I’m not that kind of person.”

“Oh, really? His scent is everywhere on you,” Tao sneered. “He might as well have pissed on you.”

Silence fell.

It was suffocating.

Shuai stared out the window, words stuck in his throat, heart aching. The words Tao threw so carelessly hurt more than he wanted to admit. All the warmth from earlier, the laughter, the food—it dissolved into shame and confusion.

He didn’t speak again until they pulled up to his apartment.

As he was about to step out without a word, Tao suddenly reached for him, pulling him into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into Shuai’s neck. “I didn’t mean it. I was just... jealous.”

Shuai’s eyes burned.

“I’m not that kind of person,” he whispered again, voice cracking.

Tao cupped his face and kissed him—deep, rough, hungry.

The kiss lasted too long.

Then Tao’s hand slipped under his shirt.

But Shuai pulled back, heart pounding. “I’m not ready. Please... give me time.”

Tao sighed and let him go. “Fine. You can go now.”

The moment Shuai closed the door, Tao drove off without another word.

Shuai stood in the parking lot, staring at the fading car, a hollow ache spreading in his chest.

He wanted to want it—to want Tao—but there was always something stopping him.

Something—or someone—he couldn’t name.

Chapter Text

Guo Chengyu had always thought Chi Cheng carried a scent that was... oddly pleasant.

It wasn’t obvious, not like the sharp tang of cologne or the aggressive punch of body spray. No, Chi’s scent was subtle. Warm. Nutty and sweet—like roasted almonds dipped in honey. It clung to his clothes and lingered in the air after he left. Sometimes, when Guozi rode in Chi’s car or leaned close during a conversation, he caught traces of it. So faint. So clean.

For the longest time, Guozi had assumed it was some fancy imported perfume.

He’d even asked once, half-distracted while flipping through his notes.

“Where’d you get your perfume? You always smell nice.”

Chi had just laughed. “What perfume?” he grinned. “Guess I’m just naturally charming.”

Guozi had chuckled, but something about the way Chi answered didn’t sit right.

They were always together, Guozi thought. That scent… it never changed, even after Chi got a boyfriend. Now, it was simply mingling with Wang Shuo’s scent—but it was still recognizably there.

Chi’s boyfriend, Wang Shuo, was sweet enough—an Omega—but Chengyu knew what Wang Shuo smelled like. This, though… it was sweeter. Tantalizing. It actually made him want to bite.

This scent wasn’t his.

So where did it come from?

It was a late afternoon when Chengyu wandered around the lagoon—his usual escape when campus noise became too much. The breeze was light, rustling the canopy of leaves above, and the scent of water mingled with the fading warmth of the sun.

And then he smelled it.

That same nutty-sweet scent. The one he only ever associated with Chi.

His eyes snapped up.

He turned slowly, scanning the path behind him.

No one.

Benches empty.

No Chi in sight.

But the scent was there, fleeting and teasing, like a ghost brushing past him.

His chest tightened, and an unspoken question rose to his throat.

Meanwhile

Chi had just been walking with Shuai, both of them taking their time around the lagoon. The sun was low, throwing soft gold across the water, and Chi had been watching Shuai from the corner of his eye—his pale fingers tucked into his sleeves again, his breathing too shallow.

Then suddenly—Shuai staggered.

“Shuai?”

The Omega collapsed to his knees, body folding in on itself, hands trembling violently as he let out a breathless curse. The moment Chi reached out, he felt it—the rush of pheromones that hit him like a sudden wave.

Thick.

Heavy.

Sweet.

It was unmistakable.

Chi’s own instincts flared, clawing at his throat, heat licking beneath his skin. His hands trembled as he scooped Shuai up into his arms.

“Hey, I got you—hang in there.”

He didn’t wait. He didn’t ask.

He ran to his car and drove, his entire body coiled tight as he resisted the overwhelming need rising inside him.

---

They barely made it into the apartment.

Shuai was sweating, clinging to the doorframe, biting down on his bottom lip until it bled.

“Fuck… what’s happening?” Shuai gasped, pressing a hand to his chest as if trying to calm his erratic heartbeat.

Chi’s jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt. His control was fraying.

The scent. Shuai’s scent. It was him all along.

That nutty, sweet note. Faint but unforgettable.

He swallowed hard.

“Chi—get out. Leave. I can manage from here,” Shuai said, voice rough, almost broken.

Chi didn’t move.

Everything inside him screamed to stay, to help, to not leave him like this. But Shuai’s hand trembled as it reached for the doorknob, and his eyes were full of quiet desperation.

Chi’s fists tightened at his sides. He forced himself to nod.

“Okay. But I’m staying outside.”

The bedroom door shut in his face. He heard the lock turn.

Chi leaned his forehead against the doorframe and sank slowly to the floor, every breath he took saturated with Shuai’s scent.

He stayed there all night.

That Night Behind the Door

Chi sat outside Shuai’s bedroom, unmoving, his back pressed against the cold door.

Inside, the scent was unbearable—thick, molten, clinging to the air like syrup in a furnace. It crawled under the crack beneath the door, wrapped around his senses, and refused to let go.

Shuai’s heat had come suddenly, violently, without warning. His body wasn’t prepared—Chi could hear it in his voice, in the panicked breaths and ragged groans echoing through the wood. Shuai’s heat was unnatural. Too strong, too overwhelming, as if something had forced it to the surface after years of dormancy.

Chi’s heart pounded. His chest ached with something raw and desperate. His fingers dug into his jeans, knuckles white.

He hadn’t even known Shuai could go into heat.

Shuai never mentioned it. Never even hinted. Everything about him screamed restraint—dignified, emotionally distant, even cold at times. And yet now, on the other side of this door, Shuai was unraveling.

Chi pressed his forehead to the door. His skin burned.

And then—he heard it.

“Ah—”
A choked sound. Pained. Broken.

Followed by another.

A whimper. Then a sob.

“Chi—fuck—”

Chi’s breath hitched.

Shuai had called his name.

His entire body tensed, gut twisting, blood rushing low. He shoved his palm against his mouth, suppressing the sound that threatened to break from his throat. The sweet, nutty scent was flooding his brain—syrupy with desperation, tainted by pain.

He could feel his rut threatening to rise.

A low rumble of arousal and need sat just beneath his skin, crawling up his spine, making his muscles twitch. His body wanted to move. His instincts screamed at him to break the door down, claim what was his, soothe Shuai the only way a dominant Alpha or in his case an Enigma could.

But Shuai had told him to leave.

Had begged him to go.

Chi dragged in a breath and stumbled to his feet, half-blind from the haze. He staggered toward the kitchen, fumbled through Shuai’s drawers, and found what he was looking for—a sealed blister pack of emergency inhibitors.

He popped two pills and downed them dry, nearly gagging as the chalky taste coated his tongue. His hands were shaking.

He leaned against the sink and slammed the water on, splashing his face again and again until his vision cleared.

His rut didn’t vanish. But it dimmed—dulled like a blade plunged into snow.

And still, Shuai’s cries kept coming.

From behind the door, Chi could hear the soft thump of fists against the bed. The hitched gasps. The sobbed curses.

“It hurts…” Shuai whispered hoarsely, as if unaware someone could hear. “Why now… why like this—”

Chi walked back slowly, sat down outside the door once more, and rested his head against the wood.

He said nothing. Just sat there and listened.

Time crawled.

Shuai moaned again—this time desperate, breathless, like something inside him was tearing. “Please…” he whispered, voice thin and shaking.

Chi bit down on his knuckles to stop the guttural noise rising in his throat. He wanted nothing more than to go in. To hold him. To fuck him through the pain until it melted into something soft, something bearable. To soothe the burn with his body and scent.

But that would be selfish.

That would be a violation.

“You’re stronger than this,” he whispered to himself. “He trusted you. Don’t ruin that.”

Chi curled forward, digging his elbows into his knees, palms over his ears—trying to block out the noises, trying not to imagine the flush on Shuai’s skin, the sweat on his thighs, the scent between his legs.

But he couldn’t stop imagining it. He couldn’t stop smelling it. Even behind a locked door, even with two inhibitors in his system, Shuai's pheromones gripped his body like a vice.

He could picture him now—on the bed, writhing, body slick with heat and frustration, biting into the pillow, begging for it to stop.

Begging for him.

Chi clenched his fists.

He deserved someone better. Someone who could hold him without shaking. Someone who wouldn’t get hard just from hearing his name in pain.

Chi let his head fall back against the door with a soft thud.

“Shuai…” he whispered, eyes stinging. “I’m right here.”

He didn’t know if Shuai heard him.

But the sobbing quieted—just a little.

---

The hours crawled.

Midnight came and went. Then one. Then two.

Chi’s body had gone numb from where he sat curled up. The scent still clung to everything—so thick it was maddening. But he didn’t leave.

Every so often, Shuai whimpered, called out softly—sometimes his name, sometimes just please.

Chi would whisper back. “You’re not alone. I’m here.”

And each time, it seemed to ground him.

There was a shift sometime around three in the morning. Shuai’s cries had slowed to shallow breaths. The rustling of sheets grew quieter. His pheromones had lessened—still present, still sharp, but no longer suffocating.

Chi sat there, eyes bloodshot, the heat in his own body dulled by the inhibitors but his mind still reeling.

And when silence finally fell—when Shuai let out a long, trembling exhale and didn’t speak again—Chi stayed exactly where he was.

Guarding the door.

Fighting himself.

Waiting for morning.

Chapter Text

Shuai’s heat was coming.

He could feel it creeping beneath his skin—warmth building low in his belly, pressure pooling behind his ribs like a held breath. It wasn’t time yet, not exactly, but he knew his body well. The signs were there. So, he took every precaution.

Scent blockers—applied meticulously.

Suppressants—taken religiously, never missing a dose.

He was careful, always. Cautious. Even while spending time with Chi, who was obviously a Supreme Alpha—though Shuai never dared ask about his sub-gender directly—he never once felt out of control. Not even a flicker. Shuai had prided himself on that restraint. That ability to remain composed no matter who stood beside him.

So it made no sense. None at all.

That afternoon, just after his clinic shift ended, Shuai was walking toward the faculty building. The sun had begun to dip, the campus lagoon bathed in golden light. The breeze was soft. Familiar. Comforting.

Until it wasn’t.

He caught it—mid-step.

A scent, thick and unrelenting. Musky. Deep. Undeniably Alpha. But it wasn’t like any scent he’d ever known. There was sweetness to it, dark and decadent, like warm chocolate on skin. A kind of manly elegance that seeped into his lungs and wrapped around his spine.

And that was all it took.

Something inside him snapped.

The world around him blurred. The edges of his vision darkened as the heat burst suddenly, cruelly, like fire rushing through his veins. It was overwhelming. All-consuming. His knees trembled, and before he could stop himself—before logic or dignity could catch him—he crumpled.

His legs gave out.

People passed nearby. Students. Conversations. Laughter. But he couldn’t hear anything beyond the roaring in his ears. Who was it? That scent—it was close. Too close. He looked around, heart pounding in his throat, searching faces.

No one stood out.

No one… except—

Everything spun. The scent was still there, flooding him, breaking past his carefully laid walls. His muscles refused to cooperate. The world tilted.

And then strong arms caught him.

Chi.

He didn’t even need to speak. Shuai could feel the urgency in Chi’s movements, the tightness of his grip. He was lifted swiftly, carried across the open space. Shuai couldn’t form words—only half-breathed sounds. Heat clouded his mind, fogging everything. His skin was burning. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed.

In the car now. Air conditioning on full blast. Blurry lights. The smell still lingered, but it wasn’t Chi’s.

Through his dazed vision, Shuai saw a man running in the distance—by the lagoon. Searching. Desperate.

Looking for something.

Someone.

That was Shuai’s last thought before exhaustion claimed him.

In the morning...

When Shuai opened his eyes, everything ached.

His body felt wrung dry—overheated, oversensitive, hollow in places he didn’t know could feel empty. The sheets beneath him were soaked, clinging to his skin, and the room was still laced faintly with the scent of his own heat, diluted now, but unmistakable.

He blinked slowly.

His limbs didn’t move right. His legs trembled when he tried to sit up. His arms felt too light, like paper.

A quiet knock came.

And then a voice, low and hoarse with sleep:

“Shuai…? Can I come in?”

He meant to say yes, but only managed a soft hum. A second later, a key turned in the lock—the door creaked open—and Chi stepped inside.

He looked... terrible.

His hair was a mess, shirt wrinkled from sleeping on the floor, face pale with exhaustion and dark shadows carved under his eyes. But his voice was steady, gentle.

“Let’s get you to the bathroom, okay?”

Shuai wanted to argue, wanted to say he could manage, but the second he tried to push off the bed, his legs buckled. Chi was there instantly, strong arms catching him, lifting him as if he weighed nothing.

He didn’t speak. He just held him close.

Cradled him, really.

It should’ve felt humiliating. Shuai had always prided himself on being self-sufficient—untouchable, put-together, in control.

But now, in Chi’s arms, trembling and fevered and clinging to the collar of his wrinkled shirt, Shuai could only feel... safe.

The cold of the bathroom tiles bit at his bare feet as Chi knelt by the tub, turning the faucet and checking the water’s temperature with his wrist. Once it was cool enough, he helped Shuai out of his damp clothes and guided him into the tub, carefully averting his gaze.

The chill was a shock at first. But it soothed him, dulled the heat still clinging to his skin.

“Just soak a bit,” Chi said, voice low. “I’ll be outside.”

Shuai didn’t answer. He just let his head fall back, closed his eyes, and let the water wash him clean.

When he was done—when the ache in his muscles was bearable again—Chi was waiting with a towel. He didn’t say anything. He just wrapped him up, lifted him again, and carried him back to bed.

It wasn’t until he was tucked into dry sheets, a cool compress resting against his forehead, that Shuai managed to speak.

“You didn’t have to stay.”

Chi sat at the edge of the bed, brushing damp hair away from his face.

“You told me to leave,” Chi murmured. “But you never said I couldn’t wait.”

Shuai looked away, throat tight. He didn’t reply.

A Few days past...

Meng Tao hadn’t come by in the past couple of days.

Not that Shuai expected him to.

A single message had come through sometime during the night:

“Going home. Family stuff. Be back next week. Take care.”

That was it. No call. No explanation. No offer to come help.

And honestly… Shuai was glad.

Tao would’ve taken advantage of him. He would’ve wanted the heat, used it as permission to act like Shuai was his by default.

But Chi… Chi waited outside a locked door all night—every night just to make sure he didn’t go through it alone.

He took nothing.

He asked for nothing.

And still—he stayed.

After the worst days of Shuai’s heat, a week passed.

Chi remained by his side. He only ever left when it was truly urgent—or just to avoid suspicion from his boyfriend.

Not that they were doing anything wrong.

During the time Chi was with him, he’d been incredibly patient. His self-control was impressive.

When Shuai started feeling better, he even joked that Chi must not find him seductive—because somehow, he managed to survive staying in the same space with an Omega in heat.

Chi laughed and replied, “Yeah, right. I think I ended up emptying your entire collection of suppressants. Honestly, I think my physical desire just shut down out of shock after finding your stash—for every sub-gender, no less.”

He teased, grinning.

Shuai was truly grateful that Chi stayed. He was incredibly attentive.

Every morning, he would make him toast and milk.

And in the evenings, he would bring clean clothes and lay out medicine.

He never crossed boundaries. He never touched without asking. But he was always near.

And Shuai—he didn’t say it out loud—but he looked forward to hearing Chi’s voice when he woke up. Or the way he softly cursed the stupid broken kettle in the kitchenette. Or the way he called him “Doc” with that tired fondness, like Shuai was someone precious instead of someone broken.

On the fifth day, as Chi helped him adjust the pillows behind his back, Shuai stared at him for a long moment.

“You look more tired than me,” he said quietly.

Chi paused, blinking.

Then he smiled.

“Guess I’m just soft like that.”

Shuai shook his head faintly. “You didn’t have to take care of me.”

Chi looked at him—really looked. There was no teasing now. Just something soft. Something restrained.

“Yeah,” he said. “I did.”

Chapter Text

Chi. He had been like this for weeks now.

Guozi was starting to worry—deeply. He didn’t say it out loud, but he was beginning to resent Shuo for making his friend spiral like this.

Chi sat hunched over the table, tapping his fingers restlessly against an empty beer bottle. His thoughts were heavy, unfocused. He couldn’t quite pinpoint when things with Shuo had started to go wrong—only that they had. They argued more these days. Over nothing. Over everything.

Guozi reached for another bottle, pausing when he caught a faint scent in the air—warm, nutty, and oddly sweet.

“I really like that scent on you,” Guozi said suddenly, his voice low as he leaned closer. His nose brushed against Chi’s neck, inhaling without shame.

Chi blinked, caught off guard. “What scent?”

“That nutty-sweet one that clings to you,” Guozi murmured. “I’ve been noticing it since that time I skipped class and we hung out after you got home.”

“Remember when I asked what perfume you were wearing?” Guozi chuckled. “I almost figured it out.”

Chi gave a faint smile, already thinking of a lie. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Guozi replied. “I smelled it again when I was at the lagoon. It was so sweet, my head went hazy. I actually broke into a rut after that. That’s why I was gone for a week.”

Chi turned to look at him, eyes widening in realization. Damn… what a twist of fate.

“Well… I don’t really know what it is,” Chi said, keeping his tone light. “But I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

But inside, he was unsettled.

Guozi and Shuai. The thought made his stomach tighten.

Guozi was a playboy. Chi couldn’t imagine handing Shuai over to someone like that. And Shuai… Shuai had a boyfriend. A serious relationship. This wasn’t something that would end cleanly. Or kindly.

Chi tilted his head back and drained another bottle.

A heavy silence hung between them until Guozi finally spoke.

“You still fighting with Shuo?”

“Yeah.” Chi exhaled. “I don’t know what’s happening anymore. I don’t understand him.”

Neither of them offered comfort. Only more alcohol. A silent agreement to forget—just for tonight.

They drank until the last bottle ran dry and their minds blurred. They fell asleep side by side on Guozi’s bed. It wasn’t the first time—but tonight, it felt heavier.

Things between Chi and Shuo seemed to have smoothed over.

Or at least, they pretended they had.

They laughed again. Played with their snakes. Bickered over feeding times like nothing had changed.

But something had.

It was brittle now. Like glass over a flame—holding together, but fragile.

Chi, trying to mend whatever had cracked between them, suggested a short trip. Just a weekend away. A reset.

For some reason… he invited Guozi, too.

It was supposed to be harmless.

The first night, they drank together. Laughed. Reminisced. Like old times.

Shuo fell asleep early, curled in Chi’s arms.

And that’s when it happened.

Chi mumbled something in his half-drunken haze.

A name.

Guozi.

Not Shuo.

Shuo didn’t stir. Didn’t react.

But he heard it.

---

The Next Morning

Chi stumbled into the kitchen, head pounding. He splashed cold water on his face and rubbed his eyes.

When he returned, he noticed the door to Guozi’s room was ajar.

He pushed it open.

And froze.

There they were—Shuo and Guozi. Tangled in sheets. Naked.

His chest caved in.

He walked inside and grabbed Shuo by the arm.

“What the hell is going on!?” Chi shouted.

Guozi woke with a start and looked between Chi and Shuo, still naked. His face was unreadable.

Nobody spoke.

Chi had enough. He turned around, grabbed his keys with shaking hands, and left.

The door opened.

Chi didn’t say a word. He just stepped forward and threw his arms around Shuai, burying his face in his shoulder. His whole body was trembling.

“Hey... are you okay?” Shuai asked, startled, his voice soft and full of concern.

Chi didn’t answer. He only held on tighter.

Shuai didn’t press him. He gently pulled Chi inside and let him sit on the couch, offering quiet without questions.

Minutes passed before Chi finally spoke.

“We’ve been fighting. Me and Shuo. A lot. I didn’t even know why…”

Shuai sat beside him, listening silently.

“And then…” Chi’s voice cracked. “I saw them. Him and Guozi. In bed.”

He laughed bitterly, voice thick with hurt. “I shouted. I was so angry.”

Shuai’s brow furrowed. “Aren’t you and Guozi close? Do you really think he’d betray you like that?”

“I don’t know,” Chi muttered. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I saw it. And I lost it. We were all drinking last night. I don’t even know what to believe anymore.”

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands knotted together. “We’ve all done... questionable things. I don’t even know if I can believe anything they say.”

Shuai was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly:

“Then react to how they react,” he said softly. “You don’t need to squirm around them. It’s not you who’s at fault.”

Chi closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

After the fallout between Chi and Guozi, a strange dynamic began to form between the two. They still spent time together, but not as much as before.

Chi had become obsessed with snakes.

And for some reason, Guozi became obsessed with them too.

As Chi spent more time with Shuai, he would often talk about his day.

“And now you guys have this snake match?” Shuai asked, eyeing the snake coiled around Chi’s hand.

“What’s with you two?" Shuai continued. "Your boyfriend left you, your best friend slept with him, and now you both pick the same weird hobby?"

“You wouldn’t understand. You’re happily in a relationship,” Chi said, gently caressing Shuai’s cheek.

“Why are you like this?” Shuai asked, softly.

“Like what?” Chi replied.

“You act differently around other people, but with me… you’re just different,” Shuai said.

“You’re special to me,” Chi said sincerely.

“In what special way?” Shuai probed.

“I don’t know... But I love what we have now,” Chi answered.

“I love what we have too. I don’t want to lose this friendship,” Shuai replied.

Unfortunately, as college life ended and the real world began, things changed.

Shuai started working at the hospital. Before things got too hectic, Chi gifted him a cute pen with a bear on top.

Soon, their communication began to dwindle.

Shuai was busy treating patients, exhausted from long shifts and unable to make time for Chi.

One evening, Shuai dragged his tired body to a hospital bed. Just as he was about to drift off, his phone rang.

“Hello?” Shuai answered groggily.

“Hey, busy?” Chi asked.

“I just got off a night shift,” Shuai replied, his voice sleepy.

“Oh, then get some rest. Call me when you're less busy,” Chi said gently.

Shuai fell asleep immediately after hanging up.

Eventually, Shuai adjusted to life at the hospital.

Just as things began to settle, Meng Tao asked him to move in together.

In love, Shuai agreed. They had been together for years.

He left his job at the hospital for Meng Tao and comforted himself with the thought that he could always find work at another hospital.

They moved to Shanghai.

The first time they lived together, Shuai realized that while he loved Tao, he wasn’t ready. He had just started his career. He had dreams to chase, goals to reach. Besides, he was still young—and accidents could happen. Pregnancy was simply out of the question.

But Tao couldn’t wait anymore. One night, he almost forced himself on Shuai.

Fortunately, Shuai had noticed something off and spiked Tao’s drink with strong sleeping pills that induced memory loss.

Tao had been drinking beer, his hand lingering on Shuai’s arm as they sat together. Alarm bells rang in Shuai’s head. He got up to grab another bottle and slipped the pills in.

When Tao finished it, he pinned Shuai down and kissed him, his hands roaming. Shuai trembled in fear—until the pills kicked in and Tao collapsed on top of him, unconscious.

That night, Shuai called Chi. He told him everything.

Chi was with Guozi at the time. The moment he saw Shuai’s name on the caller ID, he stood up and answered.

Guozi looked at him in confusion.

“Chi,” Shuai’s broken voice came through the line, crying.

“Hey, calm down. What happened?” Chi asked, startled, voice softening.

“Tao… Tao almost forced himself on me. He said he’d been waiting. He wouldn’t take no,” Shuai sobbed.

“Did he… do it?” Chi’s voice rose.

“No. I noticed he was acting strange, so I spiked his drink,” Shuai admitted. “But I feel so uncomfortable. What should I do?”

“Put something red on the sheets so he won’t question what happened. Then leave. Stay in a hotel for now,” Chi instructed firmly.

The next day, Chi came by. He was livid, ready to punch Tao on sight—but held back for Shuai’s sake.

Chi later gifted Shuai an apartment, claiming it was a congratulatory gift for landing a job in Shanghai.

But really, Chi was just worried.

It was a safety net—just in case.

Shuai was grateful. During his heats, he always stayed there, far away from Tao.

After a while, things calmed down. Shuai got used to living with Tao, though they still hadn’t been intimate.

Tao didn’t know Shuai was an Omega, he had always thought Shuai is a beta.

"Just when Shuai was ready to reveal his secret, Tao confessed something else—he wanted to marry a woman and live a normal life, with a wife and kids."

It shattered Shuai’s heart.

"Apparently, his boss had suggested that Tao marry his daughter—a wealthy, much older woman."

They had a terrible fight that day.

Shuai, devastated, went drinking with a colleague from the hospital.

That night would become his worst nightmare.

Already drunk, more men joined. They pressured him to drink more, shot after shot. They even forced him to smoke. Eventually, Shuai blacked out.

He woke up in their apartment, disoriented. He checked himself—nothing seemed off. But something was wrong.

The apartment was almost empty.

Tao’s belongings were gone.

Shuai called him, but Tao didn’t answer.

Panicked, he drove to Tao’s workplace.

Upon seeing Shuai, Tao’s face darkened. He dragged him to a secluded corner of the building, away from prying eyes.

Shuai opened his mouth to speak—then Tao threw a stack of photos at him.

Shuai’s eyes widened in horror. The photos showed him with several men.

He tried to reason with Tao.

But Tao shoved him back.

“Don’t ever come near me again. You’re disgusting,” he spat.

Shuai’s world crumbled. He hadn’t consented. He hadn’t known. He was scared he had been violated—scared he might be pregnant.

But what hurt more was losing something he had saved for someone he once loved.

He burned the pictures, but anxiety ate at him. Where were the originals?

The fear and humiliation consumed him.

The worst came when he returned to work. People stared. Whispered. Judged.

His pictures had been leaked.

Shuai fled.

He suffered in silence—paranoia, insomnia, nightmares.

And not once did he speak of it to Chi.

He was too afraid Chi would look at him the same way Tao did.

Disgusted.

Chapter Text

Shuai stared blankly at the ceiling.

The bathroom light buzzed quietly above him, flickering every few seconds like it, too, was unsure whether to stay or disappear.

He sat inside the cold, empty bathtub. Clothes still on, his knees pulled close to his chest. The ceramic pressed against his spine, against his shoulders, grounding him as much as it isolated him.

The quiet wasn’t peaceful anymore.

He could still hear them—echoes of voices that had never really gone away.

“So he’s that kind of person...”

“Shhh… don’t speak too loud. He’ll hear you.”

Whispers. Mutters. Pity disguised as politeness. Disgust poorly hidden behind fake smiles.

They all stared at him the same way now—like something used and ruined. Something unclean.

He tried. God, he tried. He went back to work. He smiled when he needed to. He told people he was fine.

But every corner held a whisper. Every glance burned. The leaked pictures, the vile rumors, Tao's disgusted eyes before he left—it was like everything was caving in on him.

He dropped his head back with a dull thud against the edge of the tub. His hand tightened around the small razor he had taken quietly from the clinic, as if stealing something so sharp would make the pain hurt less.

A tear slid down his cheek.

He looked at the razor. Then at his phone, lying screen-down on the floor beside the tub.

Chi.

Chi, who had always been kind, who never left his side.

Chi… I'm sorry.

His fingers trembled. He didn’t even know how to say what he felt. He couldn’t see Chi. Couldn’t face him. Couldn’t leave this house without breaking apart.

I love the place though, Shuai whispered to no one, his voice barely a breath. It's peaceful.

Then, slowly, he pressed the blade against his wrist. Drew a line.

The pain was sharp. Real.

Warmth trickled down his arm.

His vision blurred at the edges.

And then—his phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

It kept going, loud and urgent, vibrating against the tile like it was screaming at him to hold on. His breathing was slow now. Heavy. The ceiling swam in and out of focus.

I’m sorry…

There was a loud bang from somewhere—wood cracking, metal scraping. Then the door burst open.

Someone was shouting. Rushing.

In the fog of his fading vision, Shuai saw a shape. Large. Frantic. The scent was familiar. Safe.

Chi.

He was shouting his name.

Shuai tried to smile. His lips barely moved.

Chi…

Then everything went black.

The night before...

The night at Guozi’s bar started like any other.

Chi and Guozi were locked into one of their snake fights, the crowd half-cheering, half-groaning around them. The atmosphere was loud, hazy with cigarette smoke and neon light. But despite the tension that should have lingered between the two, they sat shoulder to shoulder as if nothing had happened between them. As if betrayal hadn’t split their paths.

Guozi sighed beside him.

Chi glanced over. “What’s with you? You keep sighing.”

“I don’t know, man. I’ve been having chest pains lately,” Guozi replied, pressing his palm flat against his chest with a frown.

Chi frowned. “Don’t tell me it’s a heart attack?”

“Nah. Went to the doctor. Said I’m fine.” Guozi let out a short, dry laugh. “They even teased me about it. Said it’s all in my head.”

Chi looked at him again, but said nothing. Instead, he turned back to his yellow python, which was currently twisting around Guozi’s green one, coiling tighter with every second.

Another sigh from Guozi. A longer one.

And suddenly, Chi’s mind was somewhere else.

It wasn’t just the sigh. It wasn’t even Guozi’s discomfort.

It was Shuai.

Something tugged at him from deep inside, a weight sitting just behind his ribs. The quiet “I’m fine” messages hadn’t been enough. The silence between them stretched too long.

The match ended. Chi’s python won. But he barely noticed.

That night, he didn’t go home.

He booked the first flight from Beijing to Shanghai.

Chi’s exhaustion clung to him like sweat, but he pushed through it, flagging down a cab as soon as he landed. The worry had crawled its way into his spine by then, refusing to let go.

He went straight to Shuai’s last known apartment—the one he shared with Meng Tao. The place was empty now. The shutters were drawn, and a "For Rent" sign hung loosely by the door.

His throat tightened.

Chi didn’t hesitate. He called a car and went to the other apartment—the one he had given Shuai long ago. He used his spare key to enter.

Inside, the space was still lived-in. Shuai’s things were here. Shoes neatly by the door. A jacket draped over the couch. The air felt still, too still.

“Shuai?” Chi called out.

No answer.

He checked the bedroom. Empty.

“Shuai!” Louder this time, panic rising.

Then—ringing. A phone, echoing endlessly.

He turned toward the bathroom. Knocked. “Shuai?”

Still no response.

The phone kept ringing.

His instincts took over. He threw himself against the door—once, twice—until it gave in.

His heart stopped.

Shuai lay in the tub, pale and motionless. A bloody towel on the floor. The razor.

“Shuai!” Chi rushed forward, grabbing a nearby cloth and pressing it against Shuai’s wrist, wrapping it tightly. His hands trembled.

And then—so faint it almost wasn’t there—

“…Chi…”

The world slowed.

The ride to the hospital. The rushing nurses. The blood. The sterile light above them.

Chi barely remembered any of it.

All he could think about was how cold Shuai’s skin had felt. How close he’d been to losing him. How he hadn’t noticed in time.

And Guozi...

He had no idea how deeply connected the two were, despite never meeting Shuai.

Chi ran a hand down his face. He sat on the chair beside the bed and held Shuai’s hand tightly, rubbing slow circles into his skin.

“I’m sorry.”

He said it for Shuai.

And for Guozi.

And then, he fell asleep with his forehead resting on the bed, his grip on Shuai never loosening.

Shuai blinked.

Voices murmured nearby.

“He’s stable now,” a doctor was saying. “But I strongly suggest psychiatric care and twenty-four-hour supervision.”

“Yes, Doctor. I’ll handle it,” Chi answered, his voice firm despite the exhaustion in it.

“Oh—the patient’s waking up,” the doctor added.

Chi sat up immediately. His hand grasped Shuai’s tightly.

“Shuai…” His voice cracked with worry.

Shuai didn’t speak. His gaze drifted to the ceiling—empty, unreadable.

The doctor did a brief check before stepping out, leaving the two alone.

Chi leaned forward, gathering Shuai in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again and again. “I should’ve come sooner. I should’ve checked on you…”

Shuai didn’t say a word.

But he didn’t pull away either.

They returned to the apartment days later. Shuai said nothing the entire ride.

Recovery wasn’t linear.

Shuai screamed in his sleep, clawed at the air, sobbed into pillows. And Chi—always steady—was there. He held him through every episode, using the calming effect of his pheromones when it became too much. Never pushing. Never crossing a line.

Because Shuai wasn’t his to take.

But he was his to protect.

Time passed slowly. Days turned into weeks. Then months.

Shuai flinched when touched. He avoided eye contact. Wouldn’t leave the apartment. He froze whenever he heard the doorbell.

But he ate again. He slept—fitfully, but better. He spoke. Soft words at first, then fuller sentences.

Chi lied to his parents. Told them he was on a break. Guozi kept calling too, asking where he was. Chi gave vague answers.

From Gang, he learned Guozi had been hospitalized the same day Shuai attempted suicide—complaining of sudden, crushing chest pain.

He’d recovered. But the timing hadn’t been coincidence.

Something unspoken linked them.

Chi brushed it aside. Shuai was his focus.

He watched over him, cooked for him, brought in books, played soft music. Slowly, painfully, Shuai began to come back.

One morning, Chi opened the window to let in the breeze. The sky outside was a pale blue. Shuai stood at the window, quiet, watching the clouds roll by.

“I like the sky,” Shuai murmured. “It feels calm.”

Chi didn’t say anything. Just stood beside him, hand resting lightly on the sill.

Shuai curled up beside him that night, as always.

Then came a call.

One of Shuai’s former patients—an elderly woman—had been rushed to the hospital. She was asking for him.

Chi was ready to decline.

But Shuai stopped him.

“Take me there,” he said.

The words shocked them both.

At the hospital, Shuai walked in with hesitant steps. He was trembling, but he didn’t turn back.

When he entered the room, the woman’s eyes lit up.

“My handsome doctor,” she said, weakly smiling. “You finally came.”

She held his hand. “I can rest now. You’re getting better. Don’t let this world keep you down. It’s too short to waste.”

Tears spilled down Shuai’s cheeks. “Nai nai… thank you.”

She passed with a peaceful smile, Shuai at her side.

Time of death: 18:01

Chi was waiting outside the patient’s room. He didn’t go in—choosing instead to give the patient, their family, and Shuai the privacy they needed.

But through the closed door, he could hear Shuai sobbing.

When Shuai finally stepped out, he looked at Chi—really looked at him—and smiled.

That genuine smile, the one Chi had missed so deeply.

And for a moment, he saw the old Shuai. The one he had known. The one he had waited for.

Shuai’s eyes welled up again.

“Chi…”

Chi opened his arms, and Shuai ran straight into them.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Shuai kept repeating, his voice breaking as he cried his heart out.

“Shuai… don’t cry. It’s okay. You’re okay,” Chi whispered, holding him tightly.

“You’ll be fine from now on,” he added, his voice low and full of quiet promise.

That moment changed something.

Shuai began to fight harder.

The nightmares still came, but he faced them. He began walking outside again. The fear didn’t vanish, but he managed it.

When he finally said he couldn’t return to work in Shanghai, Chi didn’t question it.

He packed their things, and quietly, the two of them returned to Beijing.

Chapter Text

Beijing greeted them with the gray hush of dusk. The wind was crisp and cool, a far cry from the warmth they had left behind. Shuai stood close to Chi as they exited the terminal, coat pulled tight around him, shoulders still stiff with lingering grief. It wasn’t loud—not on the outside—but inside, everything in Shuai was noise. Raw, brittle, aching noise.

Gang was waiting by the car.

When he saw Chi approaching, a familiar grin started to form—until his eyes landed on the man beside him. Tall, pale, and quietly beautiful, with dark circles under his eyes and a silence that wasn’t shy but heavy.

His grin faltered.

And then his brows lifted just slightly when he saw Chi take the man’s hand gently, as if it were something precious.

“…You’re not alone,” Gang murmured as Chi helped Shuai into the backseat.

“No,” Chi replied simply, giving him a sharp look that shut down further questions.

Gang drove in silence, eyes flickering up to the rearview mirror more than usual. The city lights washed over Shuai’s face, and Chi’s gaze never strayed too far from him. He was watching—quietly but constantly—like he was afraid Shuai might disappear.

When they reached Chi’s place, a sleek penthouse nestled in the quieter side of the city, Gang opened the trunk. Chi moved ahead, taking Shuai’s luggage with ease.

“Shuai, your room is the one beside mine,” he said, not looking back, already unlocking the door. “I had it cleaned this morning. Everything’s ready.”

“Mn.” Shuai nodded softly, stepping in with hesitant steps. His fingers brushed the hallway wall like he was grounding himself.

“I’m hungry,” he mumbled, more to himself.

“I know,” Chi said. “The food’ll be here soon.”

Right on cue, the doorbell rang.

Gang, still silent, went to answer it. He watched Chi disappear into the guest room with Shuai’s suitcase before returning a moment later. The doctor didn’t say much, but his eyes darted to Chi when the man reappeared with cutlery and bowls like it was second nature.

Gang set the food on the table. “Hotpot and porridge,” he announced.

The three sat together.

Or rather—Chi sat close to Shuai, occasionally lifting food to his bowl, adjusting his seat cushion, and checking if the water was too hot. Gang barely touched his food, too busy stealing glances. The man beside Chi—Shuai—ate slowly, carefully. There was a kind of fragility in the way he moved, like he hadn’t slept in days, like his bones remembered something his face refused to show.

“...He doesn’t even look like your type,” Gang muttered under his breath, mostly to himself.

After dinner, Shuai reached for the plates.

“I’ll wash them—”

Chi stood immediately. “No,” he said firmly. “Leave that to Gang. You go rest now. We traveled a long way, and your body’s still adjusting. I don’t want you overexerting yourself.”

Shuai blinked, halfway to the kitchen. “But I can—”

Chi reached for his hand, gently but unyielding. “Shuai.”

That was all he said.

His voice was soft, but it left no room for argument.

Gang, who was sipping the last of the soup, nearly choked when Chi turned and gave him a sharp look. His chopsticks froze mid-air.

“Y-Yeah!” Gang coughed. “Don’t worry about it. Plates are nothing. I got it. Really. Totally fine.”

Shuai glanced between the two of them. Then, as if his body caught up to his mind, the exhaustion crept into his face again.

“…Thank you,” he said, voice quiet.

He let Chi guide him to the guest room. The hallway was dim, lights softened to a warm gold. When they reached the door, Chi opened it gently. The room was clean, fresh sheets pulled tightly over the mattress, a humidifier already humming in the corner.

“You can shower first. Towels are inside.”

Shuai nodded and disappeared into the bathroom.

Chi waited.

When Shuai returned, skin damp and eyes even heavier than before, Chi was there—adjusting the pillows, folding the spare blanket, turning on the nightlight.

“Get some sleep,” he said.

Shuai didn’t argue this time. He lay down, pulling the blanket up. Chi tucked it around him like he was something delicate, something irreplaceable.

“Goodnight, Shuai.”

Shuai closed his eyes, whispering, “Mm.

Goodnight…”

Within minutes, his breathing slowed. The pain in his face eased. Chi lingered a moment longer, brushing a stray strand of hair from Shuai’s forehead, before stepping out and quietly shutting the door.

Gang was wiping down the table when Chi emerged.

He looked up sharply, squinting.

“Okay. What the hell?” Gang whispered. “Who is that? Your boyfriend?”

Chi rolled his eyes and scoffed. “No. Shut up.”

“Then why’d you—"

“I said shut up,” Chi said again, this time flicking his wrist. A soft psst followed as he sprayed something in Gang’s direction.

Gang jumped back. “Hey—what—what is this?!”

“Pheromone eraser,” Chi muttered. “Don’t talk about him. Don’t mention him to anyone. Not yet.”

Gang stared, jaw slack.

Chi moved to grab his coat. “Lock up when you leave.”

“Wait—what does not yet mean?!”

Chi didn’t answer. He was already halfway down the hallway.

Gang stared at the closed guest room door. Shuai’s name now echoed in his head with a weight he didn’t understand.

This whole day… had been a complete surprise.

And Chi? He’d never acted like this before.

Gang swallowed hard.

Who the hell was Shuai?

The next day, 

Shuai’s eyes fluttered open as sunlight spilled across his face. He stretched faintly, the remnants of exhaustion still weighing on his body. The journey had knocked him out so completely that he hadn’t even dreamed.

He moved through his morning routine slowly, steps unsteady, his frame still thin and fragile. When he emerged into the hallway, the scent of warm food guided him toward the kitchen.

Chi was already there.

“Good morning. How was your sleep?” Chi asked, glancing up from the counter.

“Good,” Shuai answered softly.

“Come here. Breakfast is ready.”

Chi fixed him a plate, poured a glass of milk, and set them in front of him. Shuai lowered himself into the chair with a quiet nod.

“Thank you.”

As he ate, a faint smile curved his lips.

“How is it?” Chi asked, watching him carefully.

“It’s good. You’re getting better at cooking,” Shuai said.

“That’s good to know.”

Their quiet moment was cut short by the sharp chime of the doorbell. Shuai startled, shoulders tightening.

Chi immediately reached across the table, his hand closing over Shuai’s. “It’s just Gang Zi,” he murmured, grounding him.

Shuai nodded, though his grip lingered.

Chi opened the door.

Gang Zi stepped inside, arms laden with grocery bags. His eyes flicked at once to Shuai, surprise flashing across his face. “Good morning,” he greeted.

Shuai gave a small smile. “Hi. We haven’t been introduced properly. I’m Jiang Xiao Shuai.”

His voice was soft, his gaze brief. But even in that short moment, Gang Zi felt something click. So this was the one. He could see it now—the delicate lines of Shuai’s face, the quiet strength under all that fragility. No wonder Chi was acting strange.

“Gang Zi, Chi’s assistant,” he replied, offering an easy grin.

He set the groceries down and handed Chi a small bag of personal items.

“Shuai, finish your food,” Chi said.

Gang Zi’s eyes flicked toward the table. There was still rice left untouched.

“I’m full,” Shuai murmured.

Chi frowned. Without a word, he walked back to Shuai, picked up the spoon, and held it out. Shuai hesitated, but under Chi’s steady gaze, he relented and opened his mouth for another bite.

Gang Zi’s brows rose. Not a boyfriend? Yeah, right.

“Chi, I really can’t,” Shuai whispered, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Chi crouched slightly, meeting his eyes. ‘You need to eat more, Shuai. Your body needs the energy. You’re still too thin… we have to fatten you up.”

Shuai let out a soft laugh. “Fatten me up?”

The corners of Chi’s mouth twitched as he chuckled too. The sound of Shuai’s laugh—fragile but real—was enough to soften the edges of his face. This was progress. Shuai was eating. Sleeping. Smiling. Slowly, piece by piece, he was coming back to life.

Gang Zi’s jaw nearly dropped. Amazing. Chi doesn’t let anyone this close. And now he’s spoon-feeding someone like it’s the most natural thing in the world?

The day had barely begun, and already Gang Zi was drowning in surprises.

----

After breakfast, Chi and Shuai drifted to the sofa. Jealous, the small snake, lazily coiled its way up Chi’s arm before stretching toward Shuai.

Shuai reached out and touched its head gently. The snake shifted from Chi’s arm to Shuai’s, winding itself comfortably around his wrist.

“You’re not afraid of it?” Chi asked, watching.

“Should I be?” Shuai tilted his head, studying the little creature with quiet fondness. “It seems docile.”

“Only because he’s still a baby,” Chi replied. “Don’t go near the others—especially the big python. That one’s dangerous.”

Shuai nodded. “I’ll only play with this one. And only when you’re around.”

Chi’s expression softened, and for a brief second, something unspoken passed between them.

Gang Zi, standing off to the side, saw it all—the quiet touches, the trust, the way Chi’s usually sharp edges melted around this fragile man.

Not boyfriend? My ass.

For days, Gang Zi had been the lone witness to Chi’s strange new attachment. Shuai was always there—quiet, fragile, never far from Chi’s reach. It baffled him. Chi, who was always cold and ruthless with others, had turned almost gentle. Too gentle.

The more Gang Zi watched, the more questions piled up. By the fifth night, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Chi was in the shower, the sound of rushing water echoing faintly down the hall. Shuai sat curled on the sofa, blanket draped loosely around his shoulders, eyes fixed on the TV though it was clear he wasn’t really watching. His face was soft in the glow of the screen, expression unreadable.

“Shuai,” Gang Zi said, his voice breaking the silence.

Shuai turned his head slightly. “Yes?” His voice was quiet, almost cautious, like he wasn’t used to being spoken to directly.

Gang Zi rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly unsure, but forced himself to continue. “I hope you don’t mind me asking… but this has been gnawing at me since you two came back. What’s your relationship with Chi?”

Shuai blinked, his lashes lowering for a moment as if considering the safest answer. Finally, he murmured, “We’re friends.”

“Friends?” Gang Zi echoed, skeptical. The way Chi hovered over him, the way he spoon-fed him at meals, tucked him into bed—it was anything but just friends.

Shuai nodded faintly. “I’ve known Chi since college.”

Gang Zi’s brows furrowed. “College? That’s impossible. I’ve been with Chi all those years. I never once saw you.”

Shuai looked at him. He, too, had never seen Gang Zi—only Chi. How big was their campus for him never to have met this person? Even Guozi, who was supposed to always be with Chi, he had never once encountered.

Before Gang Zi could open his mouth to press further, a sudden shift in the air silenced him.

Chi padded into the room, hair damp, a towel slung loosely around his neck. His steps were unhurried, but there was a weight in his presence that made Gang Zi’s throat dry.

He walked straight to the sofa where Shuai sat and stopped behind him. For a moment, he said nothing—just watched. Shuai sat very still.

Then Chi’s voice, low and edged, cut the air. “I didn’t want Shuai to be known by you—or by anyone.”

Gang Zi froze.

Shuai startled at the sudden voice. Chi leaned forward, his arms circling Shuai’s shoulders. He bent until his chin rested on Shuai’s shoulder, damp hair brushing against Shuai’s cheek. The gesture looked tender, almost affectionate, but Chi’s eyes—narrowed and sharp—were locked on Gang Zi.

“You’re not a good influence,” he finished flatly.

Shuai stiffened under his hold, his breath catching for a moment. Still, he didn’t move away. Instead, he touched Chi’s arm lightly.

“You’re getting me wet,” Shuai complained, cheeks brushing against Chi’s damp hair.

Chi only smiled, his gaze shifting back to Gang Zi.

That gaze stayed locked, unyielding. It wasn’t possession—it was protection. He didn’t trust Gang Zi not to blurt out something careless, something that could reopen wounds Shuai had only just begun to heal.

The tension stretched, heavy and suffocating. Finally, Gang Zi tore his eyes away, pretending to fiddle with his phone, though his mind spun wildly.

Whatever this was, it was unlike anything he had ever seen from Chi before.

Chapter Text

Gang Zi still couldn’t make sense of Chi and Shuai’s relationship. Despite both of them insisting they were only friends, their dynamic was anything but ordinary.

They were sweet—too sweet.

Chi hovered over Shuai like a shadow that refused to leave, noticing every small shift in his mood, every flinch, every sigh. He adjusted Shuai’s seat cushion without being asked, poured his drinks before he reached for them, even tucked a blanket around his shoulders if the room so much as hinted at a draft.

And Shuai… Shuai accepted it all with a quietness that puzzled Gang Zi even more. He never recoiled, never told Chi to stop. Instead, there was a subtle trust in the way he leaned closer when Chi’s hand brushed his, or how his gaze softened whenever Chi murmured something too low for anyone else to hear.

Yet, for all the gentleness, Chi never crossed a certain line. No kisses, no touches that lingered beyond the occasional hug. It wasn’t romantic in the obvious sense—but it wasn’t platonic either. It was something else, something in-between, something Gang Zi didn’t have the words for.

And still, no matter how he tried to categorize it, one truth was impossible to ignore: they were inseparable. Wherever Chi was, Shuai followed. And wherever Shuai faltered, Chi was already there to catch him.

Everything was good.

Weeks passed, and with them, a new routine settled into Chi’s carefully controlled life.

Shuai was getting better—visibly stronger each day. His appetite back. His color had returned, the dark circles under his eyes had faded, and he smiled more now. Not always, not freely, but the difference was there. Tangible. Hopeful.

With Shuai slowly reclaiming himself, Chi found pockets of time to return to his old habits. He now spent more time with his snakes—Jealous had grown a little bigger, still enough to wrap around Chi’s hand but still small enough to rest on his shoulder. It soothed him, that familiar rhythm. That soft rustling in the tank. While Shuai lounge nearby.

Chi also began to meet Guozi again. Their old routine resumed quietly.

Whenever Chi had to leave, Gang stayed behind to keep an eye on Shuai. At first, Shuai protested, claiming he was fine, but eventually, he relented. There was comfort in having someone around. Even if they didn’t speak much, Gang’s presence was steady.

One night, Guozi and Chi sat inside the dimly lit private room of the bar. The low thrum of music pulsed through the walls, smoke hanging thick in the air.

“It’s been a while since I saw you,” Guozi said, settling beside him. He flicked his lighter open, flame dancing briefly in the dim light.

“As I said, I went on vacation,” Chi replied, slipping a cigarette between his lips. His tone was casual, but there was a softness under it—something Guozi immediately picked up on.

Guozi leaned closer to light his own cigarette. That was when he caught it.

The scent. Familiar.

It clung faintly to Chi, so subtle anyone else would have dismissed it. But Guozi didn’t. His eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across his face. Still, he leaned back, puffed his cigarette, and let it slide—for now.

The room settled into silence, smoke and bass filling the space. Chi exhaled, leaning back in his chair as if nothing in the world could shake him.

Then his phone buzzed.

Chi glanced at the screen. The moment he saw the name, his face changed. All the calm drained away.

He answered instantly.

“Chi—get back here. Now.” Gang Zi’s voice was raw, frantic. “It’s Shuai. He’s screaming your name. He—he won’t stop.”

The cigarette slipped from Chi’s hand, hitting the floor and burning out. His chair scraped violently against the floor as he shot to his feet.

“Chi?” Guozi frowned, straightening. “What the hell—?”

But Chi was already gone. He stormed out of the room, movements sharp, fast, his phone shoved into his pocket. The door slammed against the wall, leaving Guozi in stunned silence, smoke still curling in the air where Chi had sat.

Guozi’s eyes narrowed. That scent. That softness in Chi’s voice. Whoever it was… they mattered.

Back at the house, Gang Zi’s pulse hammered in his ears.

It had started suddenly—one moment the house was quiet, the next, a scream tore through the walls.

Shuai’s.

Gang Zi had dropped his drink, glass shattering against the floor, but he barely noticed. He sprinted down the hallway, throwing the bedroom door open.

What he saw froze him in place.

Shuai thrashed against the sheets, sweat soaking his skin, face twisted in terror. His arms flailed wildly, clawing at the air as though unseen hands restrained him.

“No! No! Please!!” His voice cracked with desperation.

Then the name ripped from his throat, raw and trembling. “Chi!!”

Gang Zi stood frozen, heart pounding, his throat dry. He had no idea what to do, no idea how to reach him.

“Chi!” Shuai screamed again, his nails dragging bloody crescents into his own arms as he struggled against ghosts only he could see.

Gang Zi fumbled with his phone, nearly dropping it in his panic. He dialed with trembling fingers.

“Pick up, damn it, pick up—”

When Chi answered, Gang Zi didn’t bother with explanations. “It’s Shuai. I don't know what happened one moment he's sleeping, then suddenly he's screaming—he’s calling your name. Get back here. Now.”

Chi’s car tore through the streets, engine growling, headlights cutting the dark. His grip on the wheel was white-knuckled, jaw clenched tight. Every red light felt like a curse, every second like eternity.

His heart pounded with each echo of Gang Zi’s voice. Shuai’s cries. His name on Shuai’s lips.

Hold on. I’m coming.

He pressed harder on the gas.

Back in the bedroom, Gang Zi hovered near the door, helpless. Shuai’s cries grew hoarser, his body thrashing weaker but more frantic.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t—Chi! Chi!!”

His voice cracked into sobs. His fingernails left bloody trails down his own arms, his chest heaving in panic.

Gang Zi’s stomach twisted. He had never seen anyone so broken. Not like this.

Acting on instinct, he rushed forward and grabbed Shuai’s shoulders, trying to pin him down. “Shuai! Wake up, it’s just a dream!”

But the moment Gang Zi’s arms wrapped around him, Shuai’s hysteria exploded. His entire body convulsed violently, screams tearing from his throat as if he were being burned alive.

“No! Don’t touch me! Chi!!”

Gang Zi froze in shock as Shuai’s panic spiked. He hadn’t realized it, but his own pheromones had flared with the contact—foreign, sharp, invasive. To Shuai, it wasn’t comfort. It was another attack.

“Shit,” Gang Zi hissed, releasing him immediately and stumbling back, guilt slamming into him like a fist. He’d only made it worse.

“Hurry the hell up, Chi,” he muttered through clenched teeth, retreating toward the door, pulse racing.

As if summoned by Shuai’s cries, the front door slammed open. Footsteps thundered down the hall.

-----

Chi burst into the bedroom, chest heaving, eyes immediately locking onto the bed.

And then he saw it—Gang Zi too close, Shuai writhing beneath his hands, panic still climbing instead of calming.

A low, animal snarl ripped from Chi’s throat. “Get your hands off him.”

The sound was primal, sharp enough to cut through even Shuai’s screams. His eyes glowed with unrestrained fury, every line of his body coiled like a predator about to strike.

Gang Zi jerked back like he’d been burned, retreating so fast he nearly tripped over himself. “I—I wasn’t—” he stammered, but Chi wasn’t listening. His instincts had taken over, and every ounce of him screamed one thing: protect Shuai.

He climbed onto the mattress in one fluid motion, ignoring Gang Zi entirely, and pulled Shuai into his arms despite the scratching nails tearing at his skin.

“Shh—baobei. It’s me.” His voice was firm, grounding, the kind that cut through storms. “Nobody’s here. I’ve got you.”

Shuai thrashed once more, hysteria breaking against Chi’s unshakable hold, then collapsed into him, trembling violently, sobbing into his chest.

Chi lowered his head, his pheromones flooding the air—warm, steady, grounding. The room shifted, saturated with his presence, pressing against the chaos in Shuai’s mind. Slowly, slowly, Shuai’s breathing began to stutter into rhythm with Chi’s.

Gang Zi stood frozen at the doorway. 

The next day

Chi woke early despite the fitful sleep. Shuai had whimpered through most of the night, his fragile body curled against him like a child, fingers clinging to Chi’s shirt as if letting go would drown him.

By the time he slipped out of bed and finished his morning routine, the kitchen light was already on.

Gang Zi sat at the counter, shoulders hunched, nursing a cup of coffee. He looked up at Chi, hesitation flickering in his eyes.

Chi sighed. “Sorry about last night.”

Gang Zi shook his head. “It’s alright. I… I don’t know the whole picture, but it seems Shuai has a violent reaction to other people. Especially Alpha pheromones.”

“Yeah,” Chi said quietly. “Be cautious about releasing yours around him—especially when he’s sleeping.”

Gang Zi studied him for a long moment, brows knitting together. “If you don’t mind me asking… why is he like that?”

For a while, Chi said nothing. His jaw tightened as he glanced down at the faint scratches Shuai’s nails had left on his arms. It wasn’t his story to tell—but Shuai needed people around him who understood. People who wouldn’t accidentally destroy him all over again.

Finally, he spoke, voice low but steady.

“Shuai had a bad encounter with Alphas. He was gang raped. His pictures were leaked. The shame and trauma broke him. He tried to commit suicide. I found him just in time.”

Gang Zi froze, eyes widening. His coffee cup slipped in his hand, nearly spilling. “Suicide…?” His voice cracked, disbelief shaking every word.

Chi nodded once. His expression didn’t waver, but his knuckles turned white around the counter’s edge.

Gang Zi leaned back hard against his chair, shaken. “Back then… you suddenly rushed to Shanghai. I thought it was business. All this time… you were with him?”

“Yes.”

“And you stayed through all of it,” Gang Zi whispered, almost to himself. “You carried that weight alone.”

Chi’s lips curved into something that wasn’t a smile. “Shuai needed someone. He could barely stand, let alone trust anyone. I couldn’t leave him. Not then. Not now.”

Gang Zi dragged a hand over his face. His chest felt tight. “No wonder Shuai depends on you so much. You two are… inseparable. You’ve known him since college, right? And Wang Shuo—you were with him back then. Is that why you never courted Shuai?”

Chi shook his head. “No. I knew Shuai before Shuo.” His tone hardened on the name, like it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Then why?” Gang Zi pressed, frustration edging into awe. “Why haven’t you courted him? Why not just be with him?”

Chi gave a hollow laugh. “Because Shuai had a boyfriend he loved too much.” His words dripped with contempt. Then softer, almost broken: “And later on… because Shuai is someone I could never have. I can be anything to him—but not that.”

Gang Zi blinked. “Why?”

Chi finally lifted his gaze, eyes sharp. “Because he’s Guozi’s soulmate.”

Gang Zi choked on his coffee, coughing violently. He slammed the mug down, liquid sloshing over the rim. “What the fuck!” His voice shot up, disbelief burning through it. “And you kept this from Shuai and Guozi? Shit! If either of them finds out—”

“How did you even know?” he demanded.

“Shuai reacted to Guozi’s pheromones back in college,” Chi said evenly. “But he already had a boyfriend then. He was in a serious relationship that lasted until this year. And Guozi… was a notorious playboy. He would’ve hurt Shuai.”

Gang Zi fell silent, pulse hammering in his ears.

“The two of them would’ve destroyed each other,” Chi continued. “Shuai’s devotion to his boyfriend was absolute. He tolerated everything—even when it broke him. My suspicion was confirmed later, when Shuai’s suffering aligned with Guozi’s. Guozi once complained of chest pain—I rushed to him. That was the exact same time Shuai tried to take his life.”

Gang Zi’s mouth fell open. Memories slammed into him—Guozi collapsing out of nowhere, hospitalized for days. The chaos. The fear.

“That… that was the same time?” he whispered, horrified.

“Yes.” Chi’s voice was flat. “When Guozi clutched his chest in agony, Shuai was bleeding out in a bathtub.”

Gang Zi sat frozen, goosebumps prickling down his arms. “Fuck…” His throat tightened. “And all this time, you’ve carried this secret. You saved Shuai, nursed him back, shielded him. You sacrificed everything—for someone you can’t even have.”

Chi exhaled quietly, eyes distant. “I don’t regret it. But I do wonder. If I had let them meet sooner, would it have been prevented? Would Shuai have been spared all of this?”

Gang Zi shook his head fiercely. “Don’t. Don’t put that on yourself. If Shuai was that deep into his ex, nothing would’ve changed. Guozi wouldn’t have stood a chance. The only thing you can do now—the only thing any of us can do—is wait.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy with unspoken truths.

For the first time, Gang Zi truly saw the weight Chi carried. The scars weren’t just on Shuai—they were carved into Chi as well, invisible but just as deep.

Shuai woke just after Chi and Gang Zi had finished their heavy conversation. He rubbed at his eyes, hair mussed, expression soft and unbothered, as though the night’s terrors hadn’t happened at all.

“Good morning, guys,” he greeted, his voice light, almost teasing. He smiled at them like nothing was wrong, like the nightmare from last night had never existed.

Chi’s gaze softened. This happened sometimes after Shuai experienced an extreme nightmare—he would wake up with no memory of having it.

Gang Zi swallowed hard, the image of Shuai’s fragility still burned into his thoughts. “Good morning,” he managed.

“What’s for breakfast?” Shuai asked, sliding onto the kitchen stool beside Chi.

“Fried rice and eggs,” Gang Zi said, setting a plate on the counter.

“Oh yeah—Chi, you don’t have much food stocked,” Shuai noted, frowning lightly.

Chi passed his card to Gang Zi without hesitation.

“Shuai, do you want something?” Chi asked.

“Hmmm, ice cream. Oh, and I need this skincare brand,” Shuai said, lips curving into a small smile.

---

That afternoon, fate twisted in another direction.

At the mall, Guozi and Li Wang happened to cross paths with Gang Zi. He looked worn down, exhaustion carved into the dark circles under his eyes, one arm straining with the weight of shopping bags while the other clutched a crumpled checklist.

“Hey. Busy day?” Li Wang greeted lightly.

Gang Zi forced a grin, shifting the bag higher.

But when his eyes landed on Guozi, his body stiffened. “Yeah,” he puffed out a breath, adjusting the strap on his arm. “Running errands for Chi.”

They exchanged quick hellos, ready to part ways. But just as Guozi moved to walk past, he stilled.

Something in the air had changed.

A faint scent lingered—thin, elusive, but sharp enough to stir memory. It wasn’t Gang Zi’s. It clung to him, woven faintly through his clothes like a ghost. Something—Something Guozi’s instincts recognized.

“You got someone with you?” Guozi asked casually, though his eyes didn’t meet Gang Zi’s. His voice was smooth—too smooth. “You smell… different.”

Gang Zi laughed, too loud, too forced. “Nah. You know me. Just flings here and there.”

Guozi’s gaze lingered for a second, sharp and knowing. Then, slowly, he smiled. “Alright. Get going, then. Chi’s waiting.”

Gang Zi gave a stiff nod and practically fled.

Li Wang tilted his head, watching him disappear into the crowd.

The air grew still.

Then Guozi spoke—calm, but his tone carried weight that cut through the noise of the mall.

“Find out who’s been around Chi,” he said softly, eyes narrowing. “And Gang, too.”

Li Wang didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. He simply nodded once, already planning the next step.

Chapter Text

Weeks passed after that night of terror with Shuai.

The apartment felt different now. The walls that once echoed with silence had begun to hum with life. The air was warmer—not from the heater, but from laughter, from the gentle rhythm of footsteps that were no longer just Chi’s, from the quiet presence of someone who brought light into places that had once felt like tombs.

Shuai was changing. Healing.

The nightmares still came, but not as often. He slept longer hours, his body no longer jolting awake at every creak of the floorboards. He ate with more appetite, sometimes even sneaking snacks from the fridge when he thought Chi wasn’t watching. And every now and then, when something amused him, Shuai’s laughter would spill into the room, soft and bright, curling around Chi’s heart until it hurt.

Even Gang Zi, who was never one for sentiment, had muttered once while flipping through a magazine, “This place’s been too dull for too long. Now it’s like there’s sunshine walking around in here.”

Shuai had laughed at that, his eyes crinkling, and for a fleeting moment, Chi thought—this is what happiness looks like.

That evening, the three of them had dinner together. Later, when Gang Zi retreated to his room, Chi and Shuai lingered in the living room. The city’s glow seeped faintly through the curtains, a soft hum of cars weaving into the quiet.

Shuai was curled under a blanket on the couch, legs tucked up, hair falling loosely over his forehead. Chi sat beside him, one arm draped along the backrest, as if his mere presence could shield him from the world.

They talked. Not about the past. Not about nightmares. But about the future—tentatively, as if afraid speaking it too loudly would shatter the fragile hope hanging between them.

“Are you going back to work at the hospital?” Chi asked, voice careful. He tried to sound casual, but tension knotted beneath his ribs.

Shuai shook his head, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling. “No. Too many people. Too many memories.” His fingers toyed with the blanket, pausing briefly over the edge of his covered wrist before moving on. “I’m thinking of opening a small clinic. Just something quiet. Somewhere I can help without… being overwhelmed.”

Relief washed over Chi, so sharp it almost made him dizzy. A small clinic was manageable. Safe. He could picture it already—Shuai in a calm space, no crowds pressing against him, no suffocating hallways of the past.

“We can look for a commercial space tomorrow,” Chi said immediately, plans already forming in his mind.

But Shuai hesitated. His lips tugged into a nervous smile, and he glanced at Chi with eyes that flickered with resolve.

“Also…” Shuai’s voice steadied. “I was thinking of moving out.”

The words struck like a blade.

Chi’s eyes snapped to him. “No.” The answer came too fast, too sharp.

Gang Zi looked over from the hallway, his brow furrowing.

But Shuai didn’t back down. His shoulders squared, his gaze firm. “Yes. I’ve thought about it for weeks. I need my own place.”

“Shuai…” Chi leaned forward, frustration bleeding into his voice. “If you think I’m tired of taking care of you, don’t. I love caring for you. You don’t have to leave to—”

“This isn’t about you being tired, Chi,” Shuai cut in, his tone steady, his eyes locked onto his. “It’s about me. I can’t keep leaning on you forever. If I stay here, I’ll never know if I can stand on my own again.”

Gang Zi added quietly, “I think it’s best if you have someone with you, Shuai. At least for now.”

“I’ve made up my mind,” Shuai said, his voice firm. “I want to be independent again. I need to take this step if I’m going to make progress.”

The finality in his tone silenced the room.

Chi’s chest ached as he stared at him. He wanted to argue, to forbid it, to remind Shuai of how fragile he still was. But the steel in Shuai’s eyes left no room for doubt. This wasn’t recklessness. It was conviction.

Chi exhaled slowly, shoulders sinking. “…Fine. I’ll look for a flat tomorrow.”

Shuai’s expression softened, but he didn’t waver. A small smile curved his lips. “Good. Thank you.”

His hand reached out across the space between them, fingers brushing against Chi’s. Chi took it, holding tight.

The warmth of Shuai’s skin pressed into his palm, grounding him. But this time, he knew—he wasn’t holding onto someone fragile.

He was holding onto someone strong.

And maybe, just maybe, letting go, even a little, was part of loving someone too.

Looking for an apartment and a commercial space for Shuai’s clinic didn’t take long.

Chi was efficient—borderline obsessive, some might say—but when it came to Shuai, he spared no effort. Within a few days, he found the perfect spot: a cozy apartment nestled in a quiet neighborhood, far enough from the main roads but still close to convenience.

Chi Cheng guided Shuai into the elevator of the apartment building, one hand steady on the small of Shuai’s back, the other balancing two cardboard boxes filled with bedding, snacks, and an absurd amount of tea.

"This way," Chi said, slightly breathless but determined. He’d insisted on carrying everything himself. Shuai offered to help, of course—but Chi only gave him that look, the one that said I’ve got this, and Shuai had learned not to argue when Chi got like that.

When they reached the door, Chi nudged it open with his elbow.

"Welcome to your new home," he said with a small grin.

Shuai stepped inside, and his breath caught.

The place wasn’t extravagant—far from it. But it was warm, sunlit, and clean. A small couch faced a modest TV. The kitchenette was neatly stocked with essentials. There were soft curtains on the windows, a few potted herbs by the sill, and the faint scent of lavender in the air.

"You did all this?" Shuai asked, stunned.

Chi dropped the boxes by the coffee table and shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. "Yeah. Figured you’d like it. Nothing fancy, just… calm. Private. You can stay here. Don’t worry about anything at all—I’ve got everything covered."

Shuai walked further in, brushing his fingers over the edge of the counter, the folded blankets, the little note on the fridge that read Don't forget to eat. He turned to Chi, soft-eyed.

"This looks nice. Feels homey."

Chi smiled. "It’s also near the clinic. Just a few blocks away, so you won’t have to worry about long travel."

Shuai hesitated. "There’s really no need to do this, Chi. I have money of my own."

Chi didn’t answer at first. Instead, he walked over and wrapped Shuai in a firm, grounding hug. His chin rested gently atop Shuai’s head.

"I know you do," he said quietly. "But just let me do this, okay? Save your money for when you really need it."

He stood frozen for a moment before slowly returning the embrace. His fingers curled into the fabric of Chi’s shirt, as if unsure how else to hold on.

Even though he was the one who had asked to move out of Chi’s place, Shuai still found comfort in having him close by.

"Will you stay?" he asked after a beat, his voice small.

Chi exhaled against his hair. "I wish I could. But I have to go to my parents’ house tonight."

Shuai pulled back just enough to look up at him. There was no anger in his expression—just a quiet disappointment.

"Okay," he whispered.

Chi gently cupped Shuai’s cheek. "Don’t be like that. I’ll come by every day—as long as I’m free."

"You are free," Shuai muttered, pouty. "You’re not working."

Chi laughed, the sound low and fond. "I’m an entrepreneur, dear. I sell snakes."

Shuai made a face. "That doesn’t count."

Chi smirked and pulled him into another hug, tighter this time. He pressed a kiss to Shuai’s temple.

"I’ll see you tomorrow. You have a big day ahead, so rest properly," he said. "Text me if you need anything—even if it’s just to complain."

"See you," Shuai murmured.

Just a few blocks away, tucked between a small bakery and a tea shop, was the clinic space. It wasn’t grand, but it had a large window that let in natural light and a soft scent of pine lingering in the air. It felt right.

On its very first day, the clinic buzzed with activity. Word had already spread—apparently, a handsome new doctor had arrived in the neighborhood, and curious patients, mostly elderly women and mothers with young children, lined up as early as 7 AM.

From the moment Shuai put on his white coat and stepped inside the consultation room, Chi remained close. Always nearby. Always watchful. He didn’t hover—but he didn’t stray far, either. His presence was a quiet reassurance.

Fortunately, nothing went wrong.

In fact, everything went surprisingly smooth.

Shuai shone.

He moved from patient to patient with a soft voice and practiced ease. His hands were gentle, his tone always calm. Whether it was a feverish toddler or a worried grandfather with aching joints, Shuai made each person feel seen, listened to, and cared for. His smile—warm, tender, a little shy—wrapped around people like sunlight.

Chi, sitting near the reception area with a take-out coffee and his arms folded, found himself staring more than once.

When the clinic’s last patient finally left and the glass door swung closed behind them, silence fell inside.

Shuai stepped out from the consultation room and met Chi’s gaze across the space. Despite the exhaustion on his face—his hair slightly damp at the temples, his shoulders a little hunched—his eyes were bright. Alive.

He looked... full. Not just tired. Fulfilled.

Chi stood up slowly, lips tugging into the smallest smile. He didn’t say a word—just opened his arms.

Without hesitation, Shuai walked straight into them.

Laughing softly, he melted against Chi’s chest, arms wrapping around him tight.

“I did it,” Shuai whispered against the fabric of Chi’s shirt, breathless and dazed. “I really did it.”

“You did,” Chi said quietly, pressing his hand to the back of Shuai’s head. “You were amazing.”

For a moment, they just stood there. In that quiet clinic, with the sun beginning to dip and the shadows stretching across the floor, it felt like the world had paused to give them this one perfect breath of peace.

And Chi—Chi had never felt so proud. Not even after his own victories.

Because this one… this was Shuai’s.

And he had fought so hard to get here.

Chi, at the end of their celebration, stayed over at Shuai’s new apartment.

That night, the two stood in the bedroom. Unlike Chi’s flat, Shuai didn’t have a guest room.

“Stay with me on the bed, Chi. It’s spacious enough for both of us,” Shuai said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Chi just shook his head with a faint smile and lay down beside him.

“Good night,” Shuai murmured.

Without a word, Chi pulled Shuai into a gentle spoon-hug.

“What are you, five? Need a bear to hug?” Shuai teased, voice warm.

“It’s your fault for inviting me into your bed,” Chi replied, amused.

Shuai just laughed softly, and the two drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, they woke up early and began preparing for the day. After breakfast, Chi drove Shuai to the clinic.

Before leaving, Chi said he’d drop by later.

Shuai smiled and waved him off.

The little clinic buzzed with life.

Even though it was only the second day of operation, patients were already flooding in—mothers with toddlers, elderly men with canes, a few shy college students with fevers and sore throats. Shuai worked tirelessly, calm but focused, his white coat fluttering behind him as he moved from one patient to the next.

At noon, just as he was washing his hands after a minor wound cleaning, he glanced toward the reception desk—and there was Chi.

He stood quietly by the door, holding a large thermal bag and a paper cup holder with two drinks. He didn’t interrupt. Just watched, that usual unreadable expression on his face.

Shuai blinked, surprised. "You came."

Chi walked over and handed him the drink. "I said I would. You didn’t eat yet, did you?"

"No, but—"

"Good," Chi said. "Sit down. You’ve got ten minutes. I brought your favorites."

He didn’t ask. He just knew.

As Shuai reluctantly sat down in the small break room, Chi opened the containers and laid them out—ginger tofu rice, steamed dumplings, and hot milk tea with less sugar. The kind of meal someone would only know to bring if they’d been paying attention for years.

Chi didn’t eat. He just watched Shuai, arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall.

"You don’t have to spoil me like this," Shuai said between bites, cheeks faintly pink.

Chi smirked. "I’m not spoiling you. This is basic survival. You’re bad at taking care of yourself when you’re working."

Shuai rolled his eyes. “I do know how to take care of myself. What do you take me for?”

Chi scoffed. “If you say so.”

Meanwhile, all this week, Chengyu had been observing Chi and Gang Zi whenever they crossed paths.

After that night at the bar—when Chi had stormed out with his composure fraying—their meetings had shrunk to almost nothing. Short exchanges, quick glances, conversations clipped at the edges. Nothing for anyone else to notice. But Chengyu noticed. He always did.

That scent still clung to Chi. Even though Chengyu could tell he had been using a pheromone eraser—scrubbing, masking, layering cologne on top of it—none of it worked. The trace still lingered. Subtle, stubborn, unshakable. A fragrance that didn’t belong to Chi at all.

And that alone was fascinating.

Li Wang, ever resourceful, had tried to trace the shadow that lingered around Chi and Gang Zi. But even he had come up empty. The man they were protecting—the person behind that scent—remained hidden, invisible, as though Chi had built an iron wall around him.

Chengyu leaned back in his chair at the dimly lit bar, whiskey glass heavy in his hand. Amber light caught the sharp lines of his face, the reflection dancing across his eyes. He let the burn of the alcohol slide down his throat, though it didn’t wash away the curl of amusement tugging at his lips.

A soft chuckle escaped him, playful and intrigued.

“So determined to hide that person, hm? …Now that makes me curious.”

Chapter Text

Shuai was already cleaning up for the day when the door burst open.

Not dramatically—just enough for it to click against the stopper with a dull thud, followed by a voice calling out, “Doctor, help! He’s bleeding!”

A woman was dragging an unconscious man into the small clinic, his legs scraping over the tiles, his forehead glistening with red.

“Name’s Wu Qichen,” the woman said briskly, barely meeting Shuai’s eyes. “He got hit by a brick or something. Anyway, just patch him up. Use the cheap stuff, okay? Reimbursable only.” She glanced at her phone, annoyed.

Shuai was already grabbing gloves. “Wait—what exactly happened? Was he conscious after the impact? Any nausea, vomiting—?”

“Ugh, I don’t know. Just do what you can. I have somewhere to be.”

She didn’t wait for his reply. Before he could protest, she was already out the door. Another man—taller, lean, suspiciously too familiar with her—followed her with a smirk. The two disappeared into the dusk like they hadn’t just dropped off a bleeding body like takeout.

Shuai blinked.

Then sighed.

Wu Qichen was an alpha. But the miserable kind.

He didn’t look like the other alphas—no broad muscles, no smug grin, no arrogance. Honestly, Shuai thought, he could pass for an omega. That’s what ran through his mind as he watched the man sleep.

Fate is really cruel, Shuai thought. I keep getting tangled up with people I should be avoiding.

Well, at least Chi knew about it. So that was one less person to worry about.

He knelt beside the unconscious young alpha and began his work.

The man was bleeding from a ragged gash on his forehead—just above the brow. Not too deep, but head wounds always looked worse than they were. There was bruising forming near the left temple too, indicating blunt trauma. His pulse was steady but slow, and his breathing shallow.

He must’ve been out for ten, fifteen minutes max.

Shuai cleaned the wound with saline, gentle but quick, using gauze to wipe away the blood until he could see the split skin clearly. A neat 2.5 centimeters. No signs of neurological problems.

Still, Shuai watched his pupil reaction closely.

“No signs of major concussion,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone.

After disinfecting the area, he gave the man a local anesthetic, waited for the numbness to kick in, and began suturing the wound with clean, precise movements. Three stitches. Nothing more. Then gauze. Then a compression bandage.

By the time he finished, the man stirred.

Suowei’s lashes fluttered.

His eyes, dark and dazed, blinked up at the ceiling. Then slowly drifted to Shuai, who was scribbling notes at the desk under a pale lamp. The halo of warm light caught on Shuai’s pale skin, casting him in gold. The doctor's back was straight, elegant—even in a worn hoodie and medical gloves stained faintly with blood.

He looks like someone from a painting, Qichen thought. Or a swan—graceful and pure. Damn. If I weren’t straight...

Shuai noticed him shifting. “Ah, you’re awake,” he said, voice soft but professional. He stood, walking over with light steps. “Hi. How do you feel?”

Qichen just stared at him.

“Do you feel any dizziness?” Shuai asked, raising a brow.

A pause. Then, “No. I’m good now.”

Shuai smiled a little. “You were brought in unconscious with a head wound. I stitched you up. Three sutures, nothing serious. But you might still experience lightheadedness or a headache later. I’ll prescribe some painkillers—but the affordable ones, since your... companion was very specific.”

Qichen let out a small laugh. “Yeah. That was my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Shuai said flatly, not bothering to hide his lack of enthusiasm.

Qichen looked around. “Where is she?”

“I’m not one to meddle in other people’s business,” Shuai said as he removed his gloves, “but... she left with another man after she dropped you here. Didn’t even look back.”

Qichen blinked.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “She broke up with me. Today.”

Shuai looked at him, eyes softening just a little.

“She said I was... shabby. Fat. Broke.”

Shuai pressed his lips together. He could tell Qichen wasn’t the type to complain. He said it plainly, like it was just another fact in his life.

“Well,” Shuai said, reaching for a clipboard, “those are all things you can work on—if you’re dedicated.”

Qichen tilted his head at him. “Yeah?”

“Sure,” Shuai replied, clicking a pen. “Start with a haircut. Buy clothes that fit your frame—not baggy hoodies that make you look worse. If you feel overweight, go on a diet. Hydrate. Walk. Cut sugar, get some sunshine. And once you’ve taken care of that, focus on making money. Wouldn’t that solve most of your problems?” Shuai said matter-of-factly.”

Qichen stared at him.

This man—this soft-spoken doctor with swan-like movements—was giving him a solution, not pity. Not fake encouragement. Just straight facts, gentle in tone but firm in truth.

“You really think that’ll work?”

“I’m a doctor,” Shuai said, expression unreadable. “I fix what I can.”

For the first time in hours, maybe days, Qichen felt something loosen in his chest. Like a knot that had been quietly strangling him had suddenly gone slack.

“Thank you, Doc.”

Shuai smiled faintly. “You’re welcome. Just don’t get hit by another brick next time.”

And just like that, Shuai had picked up yet another person he probably should’ve stayed far away from—if biology had anything to say about it.

“Damn it, why do I keep collecting the dangerous ones?” Shuai muttered under his breath, though a faint smile tugged at his lips as Qichen left the clinic with a grin.

There was something about Qichen—so lively, so stubbornly bright. Despite everything he’d endured, he still oozed positivity. It made Shuai shake his head, smiling despite himself, as he quietly acknowledged Qichen’s strength.

Just as he flipped off the main light, the clinic door creaked open again.

Chi Cheng walked in like he owned the place.

“You done?” he asked casually, leaning against the doorway like he didn’t just barge in unannounced.

Shuai rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”

Chi took a step closer. “Why’d you let a guy like that in here?”

“I’m a doctor. I don’t exactly get to screen patients based on vibes.”

Chi tilted his head. “He looked like trouble.”

Shuai narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here?”

Chi grinned. “I had free time. Wanted to see my ward.”

Shuai scoffed. “If I’m your ward, what do I call you? Dad?”

Chi lunged forward with a mischievous look. “Repeat that.”

“Chi—no! Stop—!” Shuai burst into laughter as Chi tickled his sides, relentless.

“Take it back!” Chi teased, fingers dancing along his ribs.

“I take it back, I take it back!” Shuai gasped, breathless from laughing.

Eventually, they collapsed on the patient cot, Shuai still wheezing from laughter.

Chi reached out a hand, the edges of his lips still curled up. “Come now, my naughty child.”

“Yes, Dad,” Shuai said, barely keeping a straight face as he accepted the hand and let himself be pulled up.

Since the day Shuai met Qichen, the clinic had gained a regular patient who seemed to brighten the place every time he walked through the door.

Shuai’s quiet clinic door swung open with its familiar chime.

“Doc! I’m here for my check-up,” Qichen announced brightly, barging in as though he owned the place. His long, unkempt hair flopped over his forehead, and the baggy T-shirt stretched across his round belly.

Shuai looked up from his notes, adjusting his glasses. “Your back?”

“Of course,” Qichen said with a grin, plopping down on the examination bed without being told. “Free entertainment and health advice in one stop. Where else would I go?”

Shuai gave him a flat look, though the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. “This is a clinic, not a comedy stage.”

“Same difference,” Qichen shot back. “You heal bodies, I heal moods. Perfect teamwork.”

Shuai let out an exasperated sigh, tugging on his gloves. “Lift your shirt. Let me check your lungs.”

Qichen obeyed, pulling it up with exaggerated drama. “At least take me out to dinner first.”

Shuai snorted, the sound slipping out before he could stop it. A faint chuckle followed, soft and reluctant.

Qichen’s smile widened at once, smug and delighted.

Shuai cleared his throat before speaking. “Qichen.” His voice was sharp, yet the corner of his lips still carried the faintest lift.

“Alright, alright.” Qichen chuckled, then fell quiet as Shuai pressed the stethoscope against his chest.

Shuai listened for a moment before speaking. “You should watch your diet. Less oily food, more greens.”

Qichen sighed, rubbing his chin. “Diet… it’s torture, Doc. How am I supposed to stay away from food? What about supplements? Like… muscle powder drinks? If I chug enough, will all this—” He jabbed his belly, which wobbled like jelly on a plate, “—turn into muscle overnight?

Shuai froze, staring at the jiggling spectacle. The serious glint in Qichen’s eyes, combined with the belly wobble, was too much. His pen twitched, his lips twitched, and then—against every instinct to remain professional—he burst out laughing.

“That’s… not how biology works, Qichen,” he wheezed between snorts, clutching the edge of his desk to keep from toppling over.

Qichen’s grin stretched ear to ear. “Ah-ha! The elusive laugh! I knew I’d get one someday! I will triumph where no cookie, no salad, and no broccoli has ever triumphed!”

From the corner of the room, the young nurse Chi had hired practically dropped her clipboard. She had been at the clinic for weeks, and never once had she heard Shuai laugh—especially not like this. Her eyes darted back and forth, wide as saucers, like she’d just stumbled into a comedy show.

Qichen leaned back, arms behind his head, belly wobbling theatrically with every movement. “See? Even you can’t resist my charm, Doc. Admit it—I make this clinic way more fun.”

Shuai shook his head, trying to rein in the smile tugging at his lips. “Or maybe you just make it unbearably loud.”

“Details,” Qichen said cheerfully. “Okay, hair advice, since you’re in a good mood. Buzzcut? Ponytail? Or do I go full rebel and bleach it blond?”

Shuai froze mid-scribble, pen hovering. “…Blond? Are you trying to pass as an idol?”

“Do you think this face could pull off idol-level charm?” Qichen asked, striking a pose, one hand under his chin, the other lightly pressing his jelly belly for effect.

Shuai snorted, chuckling despite himself.

Qichen laughed so hard his messy hair flopped into his eyes. “Then what hairstyle do you suggest, oh wise one?”

Shuai squinted, thinking. “…Shorter on the sides, keep the top longer. It’ll make you look… less like a wobbly cloud of chaos.”

Qichen’s eyes went wide. “Doc… you actually care about my appearance! I am honored!”

“Don’t twist my words,” Shuai muttered, rubbing his face between chuckles, cheeks tinged pink.

Qichen wasn’t done. Leaning forward, conspiratorial, he asked, “Outfit of the day: leather jacket with ripped jeans, or crisp white button-up? Which screams doctor-approved handsome?”

Shuai pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “…You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re still smiling,” Qichen said, triumphant, belly wobbling like a jelly trophy.

Shuai realized too late that he was—the amused curve refusing to vanish. He ducked back to his notes, while the nurse watched, jaw practically on the floor. Qichen’s victorious laughter bounced around the clinic, making the tiny room feel warmer than any medicine could.

None of this had gone unnoticed by Chi. That night, as he held Shuai gently in his arms, he couldn’t help but smile.

Shuai’s face was calm in sleep, the usual tension of the day smoothed away, leaving a peaceful softness. A small, almost shy smile curved his lips, and every now and then, his brows twitched as if he were dreaming of something amusing.

Chi’s fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from Shuai’s forehead. “Even in your sleep, you’re trouble,” he murmured quietly, teasing himself as much as Shuai. He watched the rise and fall of his chest, noting the tiny sighs that slipped past his lips and the way his eyelashes flickered when he shifted slightly.

A faint chuckle escaped Chi. “Look at you… smiling in your sleep, like you’ve already won the day,” he whispered. The warmth in his chest deepened as he held him a little tighter, savoring the rare, unguarded moments.

Chapter Text

Whenever Qichen was around, Shuai laughed. A lot.

Sometimes he forgot he was tired. Sometimes he forgot about life’s heaviness. And that alone was enough to keep the man hanging around the clinic.

There were just no boring moments with Qichen.

Chi hadn’t met Qichen yet—not this version of him.

The last time he saw the guy, Qichen had just exited the clinic, still unkempt and chubby—a heartbroken man with brick-related trauma.

So Shuai hadn’t warned Chi yet. It felt… safer that way.

Besides, today Qichen had a big plan.

“I’m meeting her,” he said that morning, a hopeful sparkle in his eye.

“The her?” Shuai raised a skeptical brow.

“Yeah. My ex. She agreed to have lunch.”

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

“I literally put in a lot of effort for this transformation,” said Qichen proudly.

“What about the guy she’s with? Did you plan for the chance he might show up?” Shuai asked.

Qichen looked at him with a horrified expression that screamed: Oh shit, I forgot.

“Damn,” Shuai muttered. “Just please don’t get another concussion, or we’ll have to transfer you to a more durable hospital.”

Qichen laughed. “No promises!” he beamed as he marched off.

Qichen tried to shake off the lingering tension from the clinic as he walked toward the restaurant he had chosen. In his mind, this was a lunch date—a brief moment of normalcy, a chance to feel light again.

“YueYue! You're here!” he called as he approached the reception outside, scanning for her familiar face.

She looked up from her phone, brow slightly furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. No smile, no wave—just a polite, almost forced acknowledgment.

“Look, I lost weight!” said Qichen, showing off his new self.

YueYue ignored him.

Qichen blinked, momentarily taken aback at her apathy. “Let's go! I booked a place for us to eat,” he said, grabbing YueYue's hand—only for her to pull it away forcefully.

“Can you stop? I came here to tell you to stop bothering me. I will never get back with you. We can never be together, and stop messaging me,” said YueYue.

“Why, YueYue? You used to hate me for being fat. Now look at me—I’m fit again. You also hated the way I dressed. Aren’t my clothes on trend now? I’m not messy or unpresentable anymore. I changed everything. What else should I change?” asked Qichen. Aren’t my efforts enough? he thought.

YueYue clicked her tongue in annoyance. “It’s not just that. I don't like you anymore because you’re poor. I don’t see a good future with you.”

Qichen looked at her, hurt in his eyes.

But YueYue was not yet done; she continued her rant. “My friends all live lavish lives—eating at high-end restaurants, carrying designer bags. Can you give me that life?”

“You only ever buy me ramen noodles or spicy hotpot. Have you ever treated me to a nice meal?” exclaimed YueYue.

He pointed at the restaurant. “We are here now. I booked a table for us.”

“Table A37!” called out the receptionist.

“Here!” answered Qichen, immediately running to the reception and fumbling as he dug out a coupon. “I have a coupon,” he said.

YueYue’s ears twitched upon hearing the word.

He handed the coupon to the receptionist.

“I’m sorry, sir… this coupon can only be used on weekdays,” the receptionist said politely.

Qichen froze. Heat surged to his face as he glanced at YueYue’s disappointed expression. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

YueYue turned her back on him and started walking away. Qichen grabbed the coupon and ran after her.

Swallowing his embarrassment, he forced a small smile. “I’m sorry, YueYue. Look, it’s over a hundred yuan short. Let’s just look for another place to eat,” he said, trying to appease her.

“Can you just look for somebody else? Qichen, you can change your hairstyle, your clothes, whatever—but it doesn’t matter if you’re still… poor.”

The words hit harder than any punch. Qichen’s stomach twisted, a bitter mix of shame and frustration rising in his chest. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Before he could recover, a shadow fell over them. Her boyfriend stepped forward, expression hard as stone.

Before Qichen could react, a sharp blow connected with his forehead—the same spot that had throbbed from a previous encounter.

Qichen staggered back, clutching his head. “Hey—!”

“Wu Qichen, never-ending poverty. Don’t ever approach her again. Ever. If I see you near her again, you’ll be dead meat!” the man warned, his voice icy. He turned and left, leaving Qichen sprawled on the pavement, the sound of YueYue’s heels fading, ringing in his ears.

And if things weren’t bad enough, his phone buzzed. He groaned.

“Qichen? The photocopy machine’s acting up again,” his boss’s voice crackled through the line. “Can you come fix it?”

Qichen ran a hand through his hair, wincing as he hit his once-again-open wound. “Sure, boss…” he muttered. When he arrived at the shop, he immediately inspected the machine. “Looks like we need to buy some materials to fix this.”

“Cover the cost first. We’ll reimburse you on payday,” the boss said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Qichen’s fists clenched. Heat flared through him. “What? Last time I bought the materials myself, and you still haven’t reimbursed me! I’m not running a charity!”

“Don’t snap at me, Qichen. Just do your job,” the boss replied, irritation thinly veiled.

“I’m done!” Qichen snapped, slamming the phone down. “Go fix it yourself!”

He backed away from the machine, leaning against the wall. His forehead throbbed from earlier, his chest felt tight, and every nerve screamed from humiliation, anger, and exhaustion. He rubbed his temples, his hands slick with sweat, the weight of the day pressing down on him.

For a long moment, he just breathed, letting the world spin around him. Then, with slow, deliberate steps, he walked out, each movement heavy, dragging him closer to the one place that might offer even a flicker of relief: Shuai’s clinic.

Meanwhile, back at the clinic before Qichen arrived,

It was past the closing hour, and Shuai still hadn’t closed the clinic. He was knee-deep in reorganizing medical reports.

“What is this?” he groaned, rubbing his temple. “Am I just tired, or what? Why can’t I read my own handwriting?”

The door chime jingled. Shuai glanced up, already speaking. “You’re early, Chi. I haven’t even finished—”

It wasn’t Chi.

It was Qichen.

Bleeding. Again.

From the exact same spot on his forehead that had only just healed.

Shuai’s heart dropped. “What the hell—again? What happened this time?”

Qichen didn’t answer right away. He looked… deflated. In his now-stained white dress shirt and slightly crooked belt, he looked so devastated that Shuai didn’t even know what to say.

“There’s no comeback,” Qichen mumbled, eyes glossy. “That’s what happened.”

Shuai didn’t waste a second. He gently guided him to the patient's bed and began cleaning the wound, fingers swift and clinical.

“You really got hit again in the same spot.”

Qichen winced as the alcohol met his skin. “She said she couldn’t date someone who has no future. All afternoon, I swallowed my pride, got humiliated, and was ready to beg her. But that damn new boyfriend of hers hit me out of nowhere.”

Shuai just looked at him, sad.

“She didn’t even say goodbye,” Qichen whispered. “Just turned her back and rode off in her new boyfriend’s car.”

“I see,” Shuai muttered, taping down fresh gauze. “But you know… You don’t have to keep chasing someone who doesn’t appreciate you. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Why do you keep baiting an eel?”

Qichen let out a weak laugh. “I guess it’s because of my wounded pride.”

“There’s no shame in having pride when you’re in love,” Shuai said softly. “But don’t waste that love on someone who uses it to judge you.”

Qichen stared up at him, teary-eyed but smiling. “I think the reason I keep going back is because I don’t like losing.”

“Don’t you think losing her means you’re now free to receive someone better?” Shuai asked gently.

Qichen looked at him and smiled. “You are so good, Doc. You always know what to say.”

Shuai just smiled at Qichen, but deep inside, he sneered at himself. You’re so good at giving others advice, yet you can’t give it to yourself. Look at you now—broken, so dependent on other people. Didn’t you ask Chi to move out because you felt you were hindering him from living his life? You’re like that YueYue, leeching off people, his dark thoughts whispered.

Shuai's thoughts were interrupted by Qichen's voice. “I think I’ll change my name.”

“What do you mean?” asked Shuai.

“You said losing her is just me emptying my hands to receive something better. Isn’t this like a butterfly breaking from its cocoon? Or a chick hatching from its egg? So, to commemorate closing this chapter and moving forward with my new self… I’ll change my name,” he said. “YueYue may have gone bad with me, but look at me—I’m fit again, I wear nice clothes. Despite getting laid off from my job, I don’t regret it. I can always find a new one or start a business,” Qichen added.

“What name then?” Shuai asked.

“Wu Suowei,” Qichen replied.

Shuai smiled. “It’s a good name.”

Suowei looked at Shuai and hugged him. Shuai stiffened for a moment, then relaxed. The hug reminded him of Chi, and he realized he missed him.

Qichen, who was now Suowei, yawned.

So much has happened today—from a breakup to being jobless. Suowei could only feel drained. “I need to find a job tomorrow,” he mumbled.

“Oh yeah, what happened to your job?” asked Shuai.

“My boss is an asshole; he bleeds me of money, then gives me scraps for a salary. The money I used to buy materials for repairs has never been reimbursed. Now that I think about it, that’s what worsens my mood.”

Shuai stood and gave Suowei’s shoulder a gentle pat. Out of sympathy, he asked, “You want to rest here? The bed’s in the back room.”

“You’ll let me stay?” Suowei asked, his eyes widening.

“Tonight I don’t mind. Next time, I’m charging you,” Shuai added jokingly.

Qichen laughed as he followed Shuai into the back room, trailing behind him.

Hours later…

Shuai dragged himself back to his small apartment. His feet were sore, his hands smelled like antiseptic, and his back was staging a full rebellion.

He kicked off his shoes, collapsed onto the bed, and didn’t even bother pulling the blanket over himself.

Sleep came fast.

He didn’t hear the door creak open.

Didn’t hear the soft click of shoes by the doorway.

Didn’t stir when someone crossed the room on quiet feet.

Until a hand gently touched his face.

Shuai’s lashes fluttered open. “Chi?” he murmured sleepily.

“Yeah,” came the low reply. “Go back to sleep. I just came by to check on you.”

He was half-dreaming, but Shuai reached out and held Chi’s hand anyway, pressing it against his cheek like a sleepy cat clinging to a warm spot.

Chi didn’t say anything. He just watched him for a moment, gaze softened.

Shuai’s breath evened out again.

Once he was sure Shuai was asleep, Chi gently tucked the blanket around him. He brushed a lock of hair off his forehead and stood, lingering only a moment more.

Then Chi slipped out as quietly as he’d come in.

The next day, Shuai woke up to find Chi missing from his side of the bed.

Hadn’t he come last night? Shuai thought, a small frown creasing his forehead as he swung his legs over the edge. Slowly, he padded to the bathroom. Without hesitation. He never lingered long in the bathroom—Chi had deliberately chosen a flat without a bathtub, knowing all too well what bathtub mean to Shuai.

He still felt guilty. Guilty for everything Chi had been forced to endure because of him. Watching his reflection in the faux mirror, Shuai’s chest tightened. He missed Chi more than he expected. Seeing him every day was comforting—but living together… it was entirely different. There was a warmth, a quiet reassurance in sharing space with him that Shuai hadn’t realized he craved.

He stepped into the shower and turned it on, lingering a little longer than usual as the warm water washed away the ache in his chest. Breakfast could wait—Gang Zi would either deliver his food to the clinic, or, if Chi was around, he’d cook for him.

And sure enough, when Shuai finally emerged from his bedroom, Chi was in the kitchen, effortlessly moving between the stove and the counter. The smell of sizzling eggs and freshly brewed coffee filled the air, blending with the soft morning light and wrapping Shuai in a gentle, familiar comfort.

“You came by last night, but the bed was cold. You didn’t sleep here?” Shuai asked, stepping closer, his voice soft, tentative.

“I did drop by, but I had errands to run, so I left. I just got back this morning. Gang Zi isn’t available to deliver your food,” Chi replied calmly, without looking up.

Shuai walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around Chi’s waist, resting his cheek against Chi’s toned back. Then he sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Chi’s voice was calm, though there was an edge of curiosity in it.

“Nothing,” Shuai murmured, though his tone lacked conviction.

“Don’t give me that ‘nothing.’ Tell me what’s really bothering you.” Chi turned off the stove and faced Shuai, his gaze searching Shuai’s face.

Shuai tried to pass it off as a joke. “I think I’m suffering from Chi withdrawal.”

Chi’s eyebrows lifted, amused. “Are you regretting moving out of my house?”

Shuai shook his head quickly. “No… it’s not that. I just… realized how much I rely on you—even now. You don’t have to do everything for me—I can manage. I can cook.” His attempt at casualness faltered, and a faint tremor in his voice betrayed how deeply he meant it.

Chi’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile, and he reached out instinctively, brushing a stray lock of hair from Shuai’s face. “Didn't you complain about the ceramic knife I got you? Besides, let’s be honest—you don’t cook, dear,” Chi teased, turning slightly to press a quick kiss to Shuai’s temple.

“You don’t either,” Shuai shot back, smiling despite himself.

“Yes, I didn’t know how to cook before, but I have someone to take care of, so I had to learn. Didn’t you say my cooking improved?” Chi asked, raising an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes.

“It has—but it’s still not as good as Guozi’s,” Shuai admitted, a faint blush rising on his cheeks.

Chi’s eyes twitched slightly, barely noticeable.

“You remember Guozi’s cooking?” Chi asked quietly, his tone serious for once.

“Of course! The dishes you brought back in college completely rearranged my palate. I became picky after that,” Shuai said, a fond laugh escaping him. “I still think about it sometimes… about how perfect it all was.”

Chi chuckled softly. “But you eat the food I cook all the time.”

“Well, if I can’t have Guozi’s dishes, I’ll take the next best thing,” Shuai said, his eyes softening as he looked up at Chi. He didn’t need perfection—he just needed this, the quiet intimacy of shared mornings.

Chi cupped Shuai’s face, thumbs brushing along his jaw. “You’re playing a dangerous game, dear. Your mouth is so flowery… want me to pluck that?” he teased.

Shuai yelped, letting go of Chi’s waist and covering his mouth. “No!” he protested, cheeks burning.

“What Guozi dish do you like the most?” Chi pressed, leaning closer, teasing yet gentle.

“I love everything… but… uhm, I’m actually craving something,” Shuai admitted, hesitating as his heart raced.

“Craving? And why is the little one craving something?” Chi teased, poking Shuai’s stomach lightly.

Shuai scrunched his nose and swatted Chi’s arm.

Chi laughed, low and warm. “So… what is my Shuai craving for?”

“I’ve been craving muffins,” Shuai said, pouting slightly. “I tried to buy the same flavor, but it didn’t taste the same. Nothing tastes like… like what Guozi made.”

Shuai’s eyes widened as a thought struck him. “Does Guozi put… addictive additives in his cooking? Like I can’t get enough of his food!”

“Maybe he does,” Chi teased, smirking.

“What do you think it could be?” Shuai asked curiously, his gaze shining with a mix of longing and amusement.

Then Chi leaned in, whispering something mischievous—and slightly disgusting—into Shuai’s ear.

“EW!!! What the hell, Chi! You are so nasty!” Shuai exclaimed, covering his ears. “I don’t know if I want to eat muffins ever again! You’re so bad!”

Chi’s laughter rang through the apartment, warm and infectious, making Shuai’s heart ache with affection. Even as he scolded him, Shuai couldn’t help but feel his chest swell with something like home, something like belonging.

Chapter Text

The drive to the clinic was smooth, the kind of quiet ride that felt almost too short.

“I’ll pick you up later,” Chi said, his tone casual yet certain—as if it wasn’t a suggestion but a promise.

“Sure. See you later,” Shuai replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

When the car came to a stop, Chi leaned across the console, deftly helping Shuai unbuckle his seatbelt. His fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze steady. “Don’t forget to eat on time, Shuai.”

“Gang Zi will have your food delivered later,” he added, matter-of-fact, like it was already settled.

Shuai frowned lightly, shaking his head. “There’s really no need for that. Gang Zi is busy enough. I can order my own food.”

“If I let you handle it, you’ll end up forgetting,” Chi countered smoothly, his voice taking on that firm, no-nonsense tone Shuai had long since learned he couldn’t argue against. “You’re not allowed to miss a meal.”

There it was—that side of Chi that left no space for refusal. Shuai exhaled softly, his lips curving in resignation. He nodded. When Chi spoke like this, there was no room for “no.” The only option was to agree.

“Drive carefully,” Shuai murmured, leaning forward to hug him briefly before stepping out of the car.

Chi watched him until the clinic door closed behind him.

Shuai stepped into the quiet clinic. He pushed open the backroom door, only to find it empty. Suowei had already left.

On the desk lay a folded note. Shuai picked it up, the handwriting hurried but clear.

Shuai, thank you for letting me stay the night. It would have been fun if you could accompany me, though.

A chuckle escaped him despite himself. Shaking his head, Shuai slipped the note into his pocket before grabbing his coat and stepping back into the front room.

The morning passed unhurriedly, a slow rhythm Shuai found rewarding. The quiet allowed him to catch up on tasks he often neglected—reorganizing inventory, updating patient records, preparing for the week ahead.

By the time the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the clinic windows, the door creaked open.

“Suowei!” Shuai greeted warmly, surprised but genuinely glad to see him.

Suowei offered a faint smile and sank into the chair across from Shuai’s desk. He looked worn, shadows under his eyes betraying restless days.

“Where have you been?” Shuai asked gently.

“Busy… looking for a job,” Suowei admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“How’s it going?” Shuai’s voice carried both curiosity and concern.

Suowei only shook his head, a heavy sigh slipping past his lips.

Shuai leaned back, studying him for a moment. “Didn’t you say, if you couldn’t find a job, you could just start a small business? Why not try that?”

“That’s the problem,” Suowei said, frustration lacing his tone. “I live far from here. I actually found a good spot to sell blown sugar figure candy, but…” His shoulders slumped. “I can’t afford to rent a place here.”

Shuai’s gaze softened. Without thinking too much about it, the words spilled out. “Then why don’t you stay here? Use the backroom. I could use someone to keep an eye on the clinic when I’m busy.”

It wasn’t a calculated offer—just Shuai’s instinctive response to a friend in need. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he thought, I’ll deal with Chi later.

But unbeknownst to him, that small decision would bring both chances and troubles into his life, changing it in ways he never imagined.

Suowei, after that conversation, hugged Shuai tightly, even rubbing his cheek against Shuai’s, before leaving the clinic in high spirits, walking away with a skip in his step.

While driving, Chi picked up his phone and dialed Chengyu’s number.

The call barely rang twice before Chengyu’s voice came through, dry as ever.

“For what do I owe this social call?”

“Bake me chocolate muffins,” Chi said without hesitation, eyes fixed on the road. “The ones you used to make back in college.”

Chengyu blinked. On the other side of the city, Li Wang—who was driving himself to work—nearly swerved when he heard it through the car’s Bluetooth. Both men froze, wearing matching expressions of disbelief.

“Huh?” Chengyu asked, certain his ears were playing tricks.

Chi’s tone sharpened with irritation. “I said bake me the chocolate muffins you once made back in college—and deliver them to my house.”

“What the hell—no! I’m busy. I don’t have time to bake,” Chengyu snapped instinctively. The words shot out too fast, too defensive—like if he weren’t busy, he’d already be preheating the oven.

The realization made him want to slap himself.

Through the line came a short, unmistakable sound—Chi snorting. Then the call ended. Just like that.

Chengyu sat there, phone still pressed to his ear, seething. His chest tightened with the familiar irritation of being outplayed. He folded his arms, sulking like a child denied candy.

From the driver’s seat, Li Wang couldn’t hold it in. He let out a snicker.

“He got you there, boss.”

Chengyu’s lips pressed into a thin, murderous line.

Later that day, Shuai slung his bag over his shoulder. 

As Shuai stepped outside, a black car pulled up. Chi Cheng didn’t get out. He simply rolled down the window and beckoned Shuai in with a wave of his hand.

Shuai climbed into the front seat.

Without a word, Chi leaned over to buckle Shuai’s seatbelt. As he did, he caught a scent—familiar, earthy, with a hint of cinnamon. He’d smelled it before but couldn’t pinpoint where or on whom.

Chi leaned in closer, his nose brushing lightly against Shuai’s neck, warm breath grazing the sensitive skin.

Shuai’s breath hitched.

“C–Chi…” Shuai’s voice trembled, cheeks flushing.

Chi paused, eyes locked on Shuai’s, then slowly pulled back. “Sorry. You smell... different. There’s a scent on you. It sticks.”

Shuai blinked, flustered. He took a slow breath to steady himself. “Maybe it’s from the clinic? There are a lot of patients lately.”

The rest of the drive was silent. Shuai, lulled by the soft hum of the car, dozed off—he always did when he wasn’t the one driving.

Chi glanced at him, then gently took Shuai’s hand and gave it a quiet, reassuring squeeze.

When they reached Shuai’s apartment, Chi whispered, “Shuai, we’re here.”

Shuai groaned but didn’t stir.

Chi sighed fondly, got out of the car, walked around to the passenger side, opened the door, and unbuckled the seatbelt. Then, without hesitation, he lifted Shuai into his arms.

-----

Inside the apartment, he gently laid Shuai on the bed. With practiced care, Chi removed Shuai’s shoes, unbuttoned his shirt, and changed him into his pajamas—each movement gentle and respectful.

Once done, he brushed Shuai’s hair from his forehead and murmured, “Sleep like a log.”

Then he quietly left, locking the door behind him.

Meanwhile, Chengyu—still plagued by Chi’s absurd demand from that morning—

found himself, against all logic, in his high-end kitchen that night. Despite swearing outright he wouldn’t do it, there he was, sleeves rolled up, glaring into a mixing bowl as though it had committed a grave personal offense.

Looking downright regal, his jaw set in grim determination.

“Damn you, Chi,” he muttered under his breath, stirring the thick batter with the intensity of a man plotting murder. The entire kitchen reeked of chocolate… and pure absurdity.

Across the counter, Li Wang lounged casually, arms folded, laughter spilling out of him in helpless bursts. His shoulders shook as he wheezed, “Boss, didn’t you say you didn’t have time to bake? What’s this then? A midnight cooking show?”

Chengyu’s head snapped up, eyes sharp enough to slit a throat. “Shut up. If you breathe a single word of this—”

That only made Li Wang double over harder, nearly sliding off his stool from laughing.

-----

By the next morning, Li Wang was at Chi’s doorstep, looking irritatingly smug as he presented a pristine white box tied neatly with ribbon. Inside sat a dozen chocolate muffins, perfectly risen.

“Gang Zi cracked the door open, blinking at him in puzzlement. ‘What’s this?’ he asked.”

Li Wang straightened his back and, with a deadpan expression, delivered his line:

“Special delivery. From someone who definitely didn’t have time to bake.”

When Gang Zi dropped by Shuai's apartment, he handed Chi the box, muttering, “You can be really evil.”

Chi just smirked as he placed the box on the table, waiting for Shuai to come out of the bedroom.

You’re feeding him the food his soulmate made without him knowing. And poor Chengyu… he won’t even realize how much his soulmate loves his cooking, Gang Zi thought as he watched Shuai bite into a muffin with clear delight.

“How did you get him to bake this? Aren’t you two not on good terms?” Shuai asked curiously.

Gang Zi’s eyes widened. He knows? His expression asked the question his lips didn’t dare speak.

“I told him to bake,” Chi said flatly, “and he did.”

Shuai beamed at him, then let out an involuntary moan as he savored the taste, eyes closed in bliss. Chi, of course, was secretly recording his reaction.

“Do you like it?” Chi asked.

“I don’t just like it—I love it,” Shuai replied warmly. “Thank Guozi for me, okay?”

Gang Zi sighed inwardly. I guess one of the reasons Chi never stays too mad at Guozi—and why the two remain close despite their complicated relationship—is because of Shuai. And maybe the reason Guozi can’t ever say no to Chi… is because he truly values him as a friend.

Gang Zi could only sigh in exasperation.

Chapter Text

The day Wu Suowei moved into the clinic had been a joy for Shuai and the staff.

It wasn’t simply because Suowei helped with odd tasks or brightened the space with his boundless energy—though he did both with gusto. It was because he had a way of dragging out the side of Shuai that so few people ever got to see. Shuai, who usually carried himself with restraint and quiet composure, found himself laughing more often these days. Sometimes it was because of Suowei’s ridiculous antics, other times because the man’s infectious grin was impossible to resist.

The staff adored it. Their normally tranquil workplace now pulsed with little moments of warmth—shared jokes, bursts of laughter spilling from the reception desk, and the constant sound of Suowei’s chatter filling the halls. The clinic, once quiet and orderly, had gained a new rhythm.

“So, what’s your plan for today?” Shuai asked one morning, as Suowei leaned lazily against the counter, munching on a steamed bun like it was the most important thing in the world.

“Remember the night market I told you about?” Suowei’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’ll set up my shop there. It’s perfect for my figure candies—bright lights, lots of people, music, everything!”

Shuai allowed himself a small smile. “Then good luck with sales.”

“Luck?” Suowei scoffed dramatically, straightening his shoulders. “Shuai, I don’t need luck. I need an audience!”

That afternoon, true to his flair, Suowei walked out of the clinic with an extravagant wave of his hand, like some street performer bidding farewell to an adoring crowd. The staff giggled behind him, and Shuai could only shake his head with quiet fondness.

By 5pm, the laughter faded with the closing hours. Soon, closing time arrived. The faint bell above the clinic door chimed, announcing a visitor.

Chi strolled inside, tall frame cutting a sharp silhouette against the dimming light outside. His presence seemed to fill the room effortlessly, carrying with it a sense of stability that contrasted with Suowei’s whirlwind energy.

Behind the front counter, Shuai perched on a stool, carefully arranging boxes of medicine on the higher shelves. His movements were precise, hands steady from years of practice. He turned at the sound of the bell, and a smile bloomed across his face.

“Chi!” Shuai greeted warmly.

“Careful,” Chi said at once, his voice edged with that familiar low concern. He strode forward, slipping behind the counter without hesitation. One arm wrapped snugly around Shuai’s waist to steady him, while his other hand anchored the stool. Shuai stretched, slotting the last box into place.

“Thank you,” Shuai murmured, his cheeks tinged faintly pink from the closeness.

“Are you still not done?” Chi asked, picking up another box and handing it over.

“Just this last one,” Shuai replied lightly.

Together, the task was quickly finished. They worked in quiet harmony.

In the car, silence filled the small space, broken only by the hum of the engine and the faint rhythm of the city outside. Chi drove with one hand resting lightly on the wheel, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp on the road.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked eventually, tone casual but familiar, as if the question had been asked many times before.

“Are we eating out?” Shuai tilted his head toward him, his voice tinged with wariness. His palms pressed against his knees, already clammy. Crowds, noise, strangers—all things he’d rather avoid after a long day.

Chi caught the unease in his silence. He glanced over, then back at the road, adjusting his tone. “We don’t have to. We can order takeout. You can stay in the car.”

The tension melted from Shuai’s shoulders, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. A small, genuine smile curved his lips. “Then… I want spicy fried chicken and mapo tofu.”

Chi’s lips tugged faintly, amused at the certainty in his voice. “Spicy it is.”

-----

Before long, they pulled up at a small Chinese restaurant tucked at the corner of a busy street. Its warm neon sign buzzed softly, casting a glow against the night.

Chi parked smoothly, stepped out, and made his way to the counter. Shuai watched from the passenger seat, his head tilted slightly, eyes following the man through the glass. There was something oddly comforting about the way Chi carried himself—calm, sure, with that quiet kind of confidence that never demanded attention yet always held it, so domineering.

Chi returned after a while, carrying two neatly packed bags. He’d even added a dessert—something sweet with red bean paste that he thought Shuai might enjoy, though he didn’t mention it. He slid into the driver’s seat, set the food down, and glanced at Shuai, who was already peering into the bags with curiosity.

“You didn’t have to get dessert,” Shuai said softly, though the faint gleam in his eyes betrayed his appreciation.

Chi shrugged lightly, starting the engine. “Thought you might like it.”

The drive back was quiet, the kind of silence that felt easy, not suffocating. The scent of food filled the car, making Shuai’s stomach growl softly. Chi chuckled under his breath at the sound, but didn’t comment, only drove a little faster toward the clinic apartment.

Back inside, Shuai perched at the small table, chopsticks in hand. He took a piece of chicken, savoring the crispy skin before looking up at Chi.

“Are you staying the night?” Shuai asked between bites, his tone casual, though his eyes betrayed a hint of hope.

Chi leaned back in his chair, watching him. “No. I have an errand to do later.”

Shuai pouted, lips curving downward in exaggerated disappointment.

“Don’t be like that,” Chi said with a soft chuckle, reaching across the table to pinch his cheeks. “I practically live here already. I barely see my own home.”

Shuai laughed, brushing his hand away, warmth lingering in his chest.

Later that night, when the meal was finished and the lights dimmed, Shuai curled beneath the sheets, drowsiness pulling at him. Chi sat at the edge of the bed, waiting patiently until Shuai’s breathing evened out. He brushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead, eyes softening.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he murmured, though Shuai couldn’t hear him anymore. “I need to step out later, but I’ll come back.”

And true to his word, Chi didn’t leave until Shuai’s breathing had deepened completely, the quiet room settling into calm. Only then did he rise, pulling the blanket a little higher over Shuai’s shoulder before slipping quietly out of the room.

Shuai never stirred, but his lips curved faintly in his sleep, as though he had heard.

Guozi's Bar

That night, Chi Cheng sat on a leather couch in a dimly lit bar owned by none other than Guo Chengyu.

“You’re here,” Chengyu said, approaching with a cigarette in hand.

“And you’re late,” Chi replied, his tone light but edged with tension.

Chengyu dropped beside him and casually slung an arm around his shoulder. As he leaned in to light his cigarette, he paused.

He sniffed once. Then again.

That familiar scent again. Li Wang hadn’t found anything about who had been around Chi or Gang.

“You smell… familiar,” Chengyu muttered. “You’ve always had this faint scent since college. Then you stopped having it for months, but after you came back from your vacation, it’s back again. And tonight, it’s stronger. Who were you with?”

“No one,” Chi said firmly, eyes meeting Chengyu’s.

“Come on. Did you sleep with someone?” Chengyu teased, but his voice had a slight catch to it—too casual to be truly casual.

“I said no one.”

“Fine.” Chengyu leaned back, but the scent stayed with him.

Later, they engaged in their usual “snake fight”—a strange tradition born out of their fallout. Chi won. And, as always, Chengyu left his boyfriend—or should he say boytoy—to Chi for the night.

It was a twisted ritual—Chengyu’s way of paying reparations for sleeping with Chi’s ex, Wang Shuo.

Laughable, really, how they’d stayed glued to each other’s sides despite the history between them. The only difference now was the tension—unspoken, electric, always lingering.

Chi, as always, took the boy.

Guozi left the bar feeling restless. The scent clung to his senses, haunting his thoughts. He remembered back in college—at the lagoon where he almost figured out where the scent was coming from.

That almond and vanilla—soft on the nose, creamy, nutty, and oh so deliciously sweet. It made his teeth ache with the need to bite.

Chengyu drifted to sleep with that scent in mind. 

Meanwhile,

Li Wang had finally tracked down the person Chi had been secretly meeting.

It happened on the evening they all gathered at the bar. After Chi was done with the boy, Guozi left him.

Li finished his beer, tossed some bills on the counter, and slipped outside. He didn’t even need to tail him that closely. Chi’s driving was like his fighting—controlled chaos.

From the bar, Chi Instead of driving home, went in the opposite direction. He drove down quieter roads, away from the city's noise, to a modest residential area. The kind with cracked sidewalks, flickering lamp posts, and sleepy apartment buildings.

Chi parked.

Li parked two cars behind, engine off, windows cracked. He leaned back and waited.

And waited.

One hour passed. Then two. Midnight slipped into 2 a.m. Li didn’t move. Didn’t sleep. Not when Chi was involved. He’d seen him pull off more calculated disappearances than a magician. If he blinked, he’d miss something.

But Chi never came back down.

It was nearly morning when the front door of the apartment finally opened.

Li sat up.

Chi walked out, hair slightly messy, jacket slung over one shoulder—and beside him was someone else.

The man was stunning. Not in the loud, glittery way Chi’s usual flings were. No, this one was quiet, elegant. Pale skin, gentle features, dressed simply in soft clothes, like he had just rolled out of bed and didn’t care that the world was watching.

But what got Li’s attention was the way Chi looked at him.

It wasn’t lust. It wasn’t amusement. It was—God, was that fondness?

They got into the car. Chi drove, the boy sat beside him, occasionally pointing at something, laughing at a joke only the two of them seemed to understand.

Li followed at a distance.

The car pulled up to a small clinic.

The man stepped out first, adjusting his white coat.

A doctor?

Chi followed him out. They stood by the door for a few moments. The boy said something, Chi laughed softly, and then—Chi pulled him into a hug.

A hug.

Chi Cheng didn’t hug. He grabbed, pushed, bit. But this? This was a full-body, lingering hug. The kind that said I missed you. The kind that didn’t belong to a fling.

Li’s mouth went dry.

So this was the reason. This quiet little doctor with sleepy eyes and soft smiles.

Chi stepped back, said something else, ruffled the boy’s hair, and got into the car again.

The doctor waved.

Li didn’t follow anymore. He just sat there in the parking lot, replaying what he saw over and over again.

Chi Cheng was in love.

And no one had seen it coming.

Shuai started his day like any other—with soil under his nails and the scent of mint and basil in the air. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, casting a pale orange glow across the sleepy street. Outside the humble clinic, Shuai crouched near the doorway, watering the little herb pots he’d been nursing back to life. The morning breeze was light, tugging gently at his shirt and tousled hair.

Across the street, Gou Chengyu stood silently beneath a tree, hands tucked into his coat pockets. He’d been watching for ten minutes, maybe more. Not in a creepy way—at least he hoped not. But how else was he supposed to approach a man who’d knocked the air out of him with nothing but a scent?

He didn’t know what to expect.

He only knew one thing: the moment Chi returned from one of his disappearances, he smelled different—subtly sweet, like crushed leaves and the kind of calm you get after rain. It wasn’t a perfume. It wasn’t artificial. It was someone’s scent. And it had clung to Chi like it belonged there.

Today, Chengyu came prepared. He’d taken suppressants. Blockers. Anything to stop himself from losing control. Still, even from across the road, his pulse kicked up a notch.

So this is him? he thought.

Chi’s secret Omega.

The one he had kept hidden for years.

The one who’d unknowingly stirred something deep in Chengyu’s chest.

A loud plop broke his train of thought.

A frog—fat, green, and extremely out of place—leapt from the bushes right next to Shuai.

Startled, Shuai flinched backward with a yelp. His foot caught the edge of a stone pot, and time slowed just a beat.

He tipped.

And Chengyu’s body moved before his brain did.

One moment Shuai was falling, the next he was cradled against a warm chest, steady arms looping around his waist like instinct.

“You okay?” Chengyu asked, his voice low.

Shuai blinked, wide-eyed. For a second, he looked like he might bite him for touching without warning—but then his expression softened.

“Thank you,” he said, brushing himself off but not pulling away too quickly.

And Chengyu? He could only stare.

Close up, the doctor was something else entirely—soft features, pale skin dusted with warmth, sharp eyes that still managed to look gentle. Shit. Chi’s taste is unreal, he thought, stunned.

“Are you here for a check-up?” Shuai asked, recovering.

Chengyu scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. I, uh… got bitten by a snake I was taking care of.”

Shuai’s brow arched. “Was it venomous?”

“No! No, non-venomous,” Chengyu said quickly. “I just want it cleaned.”

With a nod, Shuai led him inside the small clinic.

It smelled faintly of herbs and antiseptic. The walls were worn but clean. It was cozy, like someone really lived here. Chengyu sat on the edge of the clinic bed, taking in every detail—the hanging dried flowers, the stacks of organized medical supplies, the calming atmosphere that seemed to cling to the walls.

Shuai worked in silence. He prepared antiseptic, gauze, a shot, and antibiotics with practiced hands. Efficient. Neat. No wasted movement.

And when he touched Chengyu’s arm to clean the bite, his fingers were impossibly gentle.

Chengyu swallowed thickly.

He didn’t say a word, but something inside him shifted.

The way Shuai focused. The way he frowned slightly when applying the ointment. The way his hands never trembled.

He was beautiful.

He was composed.

And Chengyu hated that he could feel his own body reacting, recognizing something it wanted but couldn’t name.

“All done,” Shuai said, snapping off the gloves. “Watch it for infection. Come back if it turns red or swells.”

Chengyu nodded. “Thanks, Doctor…?”

“Jiang Xiao Shuai,” he answered, already cleaning up.

“Call me Chengyu,” he said. Then, almost reluctantly, he stood to leave. “Thanks again, Shuai.”

Shuai didn’t smile. But he gave a slight nod, and that alone felt strangely rewarding.

The moment Chengyu stepped out of the clinic and into the sun, the light felt too bright. His chest ached. He looked down at the bandaged spot on his arm, then back at the door that had just closed.

Why did it feel like he’d walked into a storm?

Not a violent one.

The kind you feel when a cold breeze hits skin warmed by something you didn’t expect—like falling into someone’s arms and not wanting to get back up.

He walked down the road slowly, but his thoughts were moving fast.

Chi… where the hell did you find someone like that?

And why did it feel like it wasn’t just jealousy burning under his skin?

It was something else.

But alas, there were certain principles he followed in life—and one of them was to honor what belonged to someone else—meaning Chi. To hell with anybody else. If it were someone else’s, he wouldn’t even bother; he’d snatch the guy in a blink.

Wang Shuo was a different case. In the near future, all would be revealed. But this one—this one was definitely off-limits. What a shame.

Chapter Text

“Here are the snakes you’re going to take care of,” Chi said, his voice calm but carrying an underlying edge of authority.

He led Long down a narrow corridor lined with glass enclosures, each illuminated by soft, ambient lighting that made the snakes’ scales glint like polished jewels. The air smelled faintly of earth and warmth, a mixture of humidity and the musky scent of the reptiles.

Chi paused at each tank, gesturing toward its occupant. “That one is the albino corn snake. The green tree python is over here.” His finger traced a careful path along the row, each movement precise, deliberate.

He listed the names, the feeding schedules, where the food was stored, and the subtle nuances of each snake’s temperament. “Notice how this one coils when startled, but the yellow python—be very careful with him. He’s dangerous, temperamental, and will strike if provoked.”

Long nodded nervously, scribbling notes, eyes darting between the snakes and Chi’s face.

Chi’s gaze lingered on the yellow python’s enclosure, muscles tensed slightly. “Be attentive. Every movement matters. You can’t treat them all the same. Some require patience, some caution, some… distance.”

He took a step back, letting the gravity of the responsibility settle in. “Fail here, and someone gets hurt. Remember that.”

Satisfied that Long understood, Chi finally turned. 

Long swallowed hard, glancing at the glass cases then at Chi's retreating back.

Chi headed to Shuai's apartment, while Gang Zi went to his own house.

Chi stirred awake to the faint buzz of his phone beside him. He shifted carefully, careful not to wake Shuai, who murmured softly in his sleep. Quietly, he reached for the device and answered.

“Hello… Mom?” he whispered.

“Chi, your father… he’s been hospitalized. Can you come home now?” His mother’s voice was sharp with urgency, laced with panic.

Chi frowned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Which hospital?”

“There’s no time to argue. Just come.” Her tone left no room for protest.

Chi exhaled slowly, a weight settling in his chest. “Fine… I’ll come,” he said before ending the call.

Shuai stirred beside him, blinking groggily. His eyes met Chi’s, searching. Chi offered a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll head out, Shuai. I’m going to my parents’ house. Go back to sleep,” he murmured. Shuai nodded before curling back into the pillows, drifting off again.

Reluctantly, Chi dressed and left, taking Jealous, his little snake, with him.

Chi estate

Upon arriving, his mother insisted he stay the night. “Chi, you’re staying. I need someone with me,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Chi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine… one night. But I’m only staying because I have to.”

He carried Jealous in his arms as he followed her inside. His mother froze for a moment, her eyes widening in disgust as they fell on the small yellow python coiled comfortably around Chi’s arm.

She took a hesitant step back, lips pressed into a thin line, her fear of snakes written plainly across her face.

Morning light crept into the room, soft and pale, and the ringing of his phone roused him from sleep. Chi stirred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and picked up the call, his movements abrupt and impatient.

“Chi… the snakes are gone,” Gang Zi’s voice came through, tight with urgency.

Chi’s eyes snapped open. He bolted upright, voice hard and cutting. “What do you mean—gone?!” His words sliced through the quiet morning, sharp with anger and disbelief.

“I don’t know… I must have been drugged along with Da Kun last night. We slept very deeply and only woke up after nine. All the snakes in the glass cases are gone, even the one in your room,” Gang Zi said, frustration thick in his voice.

Chi’s fists clenched. “Where is Long?”

“I don’t know… he’s gone too,” Gang Zi added.

The haze of sleep vanished instantly. Chi swung his legs over the bed, anger boiling through him. He quickly readied himself to leave, descending the stairs while instructing Gang Zi to search for Long.

His steps froze when he ran into a familiar, imposing figure—his father, looking far from the weak, hospitalized man he had been told about.

Chi froze, breath catching, lips curling into a half-smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be hospitalized?”

Lured me away, huh? Chi thought bitterly. I knew it.

The elder man’s gaze was stern, unyielding. Chi tried to push past, but his father blocked the way.

“Fine, I’ll use the back door,” Chi muttered, turning his back.

“I’ve arranged everything. You’ll start working in the Property Department next week,” his father said flatly.

Chi scoffed and continued walking.

“Look at you! How frivolous!” his father’s voice rose.

Chi sank into the grandiose sofa, lighting a cigarette, unbothered.

“You’re already twenty-eight, and yet you don’t have a decent job,” Mr. Chi continued, voice sharp.

“Why can’t you be like Guo Chengyu? He runs the company so well. He may be frivolous, but he doesn’t neglect business. You, on the other hand… you wander wherever you want, doing whatever you fancy.”

“You can let him call you Dad. I’m fine with that,” Chi said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“I want him to be my son,” Mr. Chi shot back. “People called the complaint line to my office, saying my son is a weirdo with a questionable and chaotic private life. I’m embarrassed!”

Chi’s gaze sharpened, piercing. The old man instinctively took a step back. Chi’s eyes had always been intimidating, even to his parents.

“If you want your snakes to live well, then go to work,” Mr. Chi threatened, his voice low but dangerous.

When he finally returned to his house, his teeth were gritted. His prized yellow python was gone, the row of different snake breeds vanished.

All of it—gone—leaving the enclosures bare.

Only Jealous was spared, as Chi had brought it with him.

The pheromones of his anger radiated like heat, thick and suffocating. Gang Zi flinched under the intensity. His phone buzzed again. Fumbling, he muttered, “Chi… Shuai’s calling.”

As if a switch had been flipped, Chi’s anger snapped, his demeanor shifting as quickly as a woman’s temper. He snatched the phone from Gang Zi.

“Chi… come here, hurry… can you grab me heat suppressants?” Shuai’s voice trembled, ragged and desperate. Each word was raw, a plea that made Chi’s chest constrict with urgent dread.

Chi bolted, grabbing the medication he had stored for Shuai’s cycles. Gang Zi followed, trailing, wary.

When they opened the apartment door, the scent hit them like a physical force—sharply sweet, thick, suffocating. Shuai’s heat was overwhelming, radiating off him in waves that made the air shimmer. Gang Zi flinched. Chi’s low growl forced him back.

Biting his own arm to ground himself, Chi whispered through clenched teeth, Shit… Shuai…

He burst into the living room. Shuai knelt there, trembling, pupils dilated and glazed, a haze clouding his expression. Every line of his body screamed desperation. The omega’s breaths came in ragged pants, chest rising and falling with the heat that consumed him, sweat glistening across flushed skin.

Chi knelt before him, hands steadying as Shuai sniffed the air, searching frantically. The moment their eyes met, Shuai lunged, reckless, pinning Chi to the floor with raw strength.

“Fuck, Shuai… don’t be like this,” Chi groaned, struggling to restrain him. Shuai’s groans were urgent, needy, his cheeks blazing crimson, lips glistening with the sheen of fevered desire.

“Chi… help me,” Shuai begged, voice tremulous, almost melodic in its desperation, seductive yet filled with anguish.

Chi grabbed a few tablets of heat suppressant, forcing them into Shuai’s mouth. Shuai writhed violently, hands clawing, nails grazing Chi’s skin, lips pressing desperately against his as if trying to claim release through him.

“Don’t you want me?” Shuai asked, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, glazed with want and torment, desire and frustration tangled together like fire and ice.

“Shuai, baby… no, no, sweetheart… I do want you, but not like this,” Chi said, voice strained, trembling with the effort of restraint.

“Hot… please! Hot!” Shuai cried, tearing at his shirt, buttons scattering across the floor. His skin shimmered with sweat, neck flushed a deep, aching red, chest rising and falling erratically. The sheer intensity of his heat made Chi’s own senses reel, desire clawing at him in tandem with frustration.

Chi’s control teetered dangerously. If this weren’t Shuai… he growled, biting his arm to anchor himself. “Fuck… Guozi, you lucky son of a bitch.”

Shuai, untamed and ravaged by his heat, pressed closer, each motion a torment to Chi—body intoxicating, smell maddening, voice begging, teasing, pleading. Every second was agony for Chi, yet he held firm. Every instinct, every desire, he suppressed to protect the omega who was suffering so utterly, whose mind and body were at war with themselves.

The air in the room was thick with Shuai’s scent, heavy with longing and torment. Every movement, every breath was a test of endurance—for Shuai, caught in the frenzy of his heat, and for Chi, who bore the weight of restraint and care.

For a full week, Chi stayed beside Shuai, his missing snakes forgotten. Shuai’s welfare eclipsed all else.

Gang Zi endured the fatigue of patching Chi’s wounds, running errands, and witnessing the constant vigilance Chi maintained.

Chi was always present, always attentive, waiting for Shuai’s cries to fade. Like a loyal guard, he lingered just beyond the door, never straying too far.

Afterward, he would care for Shuai’s exhausted body—cleaning him, tending to him, as he always did.

Times like these were familiar; they had endured several of Shuai’s heat cycles before, and Chi knew what to do. But sometimes Shuai’s nightmares bled into the cycle, forcing Chi into close proximity, drowned in the omega’s pheromones. Those moments were torture. His self-control was tested to its limits, every second a battle to remain sane. He would spend hours with Shuai, using his own pheromones to forcibly calm him.

If he was honest, Chi often wondered how Shuai managed to remain sane after enduring such torment.

The look on Shuai’s face was always the same—a frightening mixture of desperation and delirium.

“Chi, please… help me!” Shuai would cry out.

“So hot… so hot!” he would beg and beg. Yet when touched, he recoiled, pleading not to be touched.

He clawed at his own skin, sobbing, while his heat betrayed him—His body demanded it; his mind rejected it.

And through it all, Chi endured—silently, painfully—bending himself to Shuai’s needs, sacrificing his own comfort, just to preserve the fragile sanity of the omega he cared for.

Clinic

After a week of torment, Shuai returned to his clinic.

“Shuai, where have you been?” Suowei asked, concern lacing his voice as he gently turned Shuai around to inspect him.

“I… I was sick last week, so I stayed at home,” Shuai said softly, a hint of fatigue in his tone.

“I was worried when someone called in saying you wouldn’t be here,” Suowei added, his brows knitting together.

“I’m fine now,” Shuai replied, forcing a small smile as he walked into the backroom to grab his coat. Chi had dropped him off at the clinic earlier, heading to work immediately.

Shuai’s chest tightened as he thought of Chi. His prized snakes—Chi’s passion, his pride—were all gone.

Flashback

Shuai, still weak from his heat cycle, woke in the middle of the night to the sound of voices. Chi was speaking with Gang Zi.

“Did you find him?” Chi’s tone was sharp, urgent.

“Yes. He’s in the basement,” Gang Zi replied.

“And the location of my snakes?” Chi pressed.

Shuai stepped slowly out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes.

“Location of your snakes?” he repeated quietly, startling the two men.

Gang Zi looked at Chi, worry etched across his face.

“My dad confiscated my snakes,” Chi said, helping Shuai sit beside him. His jaw was tight, eyes dark with frustration.

“Confiscated? Why? Aren’t those your livelihood?” Shuai asked, a touch of panic in his voice.

“He wanted me to work in the company, which means I’ll be busy starting this week,” Chi explained, his voice low but tense. “Thankfully… your heat has broken already.”

Shuai’s hand trembled slightly as he reached for Chi’s. “I’m sorry… you’re dealing with all of this, and yet you still stay to take care of me,” he murmured.

“The snakes can wait. You, on the other hand… you’re my priority,” Chi replied firmly, squeezing Shuai’s hand gently.

Shuai attempted a hopeful smile, guilt flickering across his features. “Don’t worry… you’ll find your snakes soon,” he said softly, trying to reassure both of them.

Chi’s eyes softened as he noticed Shuai’s timid behavior. “It’s okay. Really. Gang Zi is handling it for me.”

“Yeah, Shuai,” Gang Zi added warmly. “For now, focus on getting your strength back. Are you hungry? There’s soup ready.”

Shuai’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Sure,” he whispered.

End of flashback

So now Chi would be working at his father’s company. An office job, Shuai thought quietly, trying to picture Chi behind a desk instead of surrounded by his snakes. The image felt strange, almost unreal.

Suowei, as usual, filled the silence with chatter. He began recounting everything Shuai had missed during his absence: the stubborn patient who had nearly made Zhang lose his temper, almost stabbing him with an injection, and an encounter with a candy shoplifter he somehow manage to caught, and his excitement over his earnings.

Shuai laughed along, the sound light and genuine, until it was time for him to leave and sell candy once again.

Meanwhile, Chengyu finally landed at Beijing Airport after nearly a month-long business trip.

Li Wang was already there to drive him home.

“So, what’s the news?” Chengyu asked, stretching wearily.

“You wouldn’t believe this,” Li Wang said, a mixture of disbelief and amusement in his voice. “Chi Cheng’s snakes are missing.”

“What? His snakes?” Chengyu repeated, eyes narrowing in surprise.

“Yes… apparently all of them are gone. Even the yellow python fighter,” Li Wang confirmed.

“How did that happen?” Chengyu asked, incredulous.

“I don’t know, but as of now, Chi is working at his father’s company,” Li Wang replied.

Chengyu laughed dryly. “I see… uncle must have taken his snakes to force Chi to work. He should have done that earlier.”

“You think it’s his dad?” Li Wang asked cautiously.

“I’m one hundred percent sure,” Chengyu said.

A moment of silence passed before Chengyu asked, “How’s Chi’s little Omega?”

“The doctor? I haven’t checked on him since you went there,” Li Wang said. “Should I have kept monitoring?”

“No need. It’s not like I’m going to meet him again,” Chengyu said, dismissively.

That night, Shuai looked up at the sound of wheels rolling in. “You’re back… early?”

“Yeah,” Suowei said with a theatrical sigh, plopping against the counter. “The market I was selling at closed down. Apparently, it’s just a seasonal night market.”

“I see.” Shuai’s voice was calm, even, but he reached into the drawer beside him and pulled out a folded pamphlet, sliding it across the desk. “Lucky for you. An elderly patient gave me this after you left. There’s another night market at the town square. Why don’t you inquire there?”

Suowei raised a brow, smirking. “You just got back to the clinic, but somehow you’re more up-to-date on gossip than me.”

Shuai chuckled softly. “The grannies love to talk. Who am I to pass on free information? So… will you check it?”

“I’ll check it, I’ll check it,” Suowei said quickly, throwing his hands up.

“Very well. You rest now. I’ll head out. See you tomorrow,” Shuai said, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched Suowei wheel the cart away.

And so, the wheels of fate turned.

The very next day, Wu Suowei—ever reckless, ever bold—would finally and faithfully cross paths with Chi Cheng.

And Chengyu, after weeks of avoidance, would once again be forced to face Shuai.

Two men bound by different ties, circling the same quiet doctor. Two stories colliding, their edges sharp and inevitable.

The stage was set, though none of them knew it yet.

Chapter Text

The night outside was devoid of noise—save for the occasional bark of a stray dog. Inside the clinic, it was quiet, almost eerily so. The faint ticking of the wall clock filled the silence, accompanied by the scratch of Shuai’s pen as he worked on patient records.

The peace shattered when the door banged open.

Suowei stumbled in, breath ragged, hair damp with sweat. His chest heaved as though he had run for his life.

“What the—!?” Shuai nearly jumped out of his chair, the pen slipping from his fingers. His heart lurched at the sudden intrusion.

Suowei lurched toward the back room, desperation in every step, but Shuai intercepted him, gripping his arm. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?” His brows knitted in alarm.

“Xiao Shuai,” Suowei panted, eyes wide with fear, “I need to hide. I’m being chased. If someone comes by, tell them you didn’t see me.”

Shuai’s pulse quickened. The raw terror in Suowei’s eyes was contagious. “What’s going on?”

“Just… please,” Suowei begged, clutching Shuai’s sleeve like a drowning man reaching for rope. “Tell them that.”

Shuai exhaled sharply, nerves fraying. “Fine, fine—get inside the back room. Don’t make a sound.”

Suowei slipped inside, the door closing with a muted click. Shuai stood frozen for a moment, his own breathing unsteady. He immediately sprayed the place with pheromone eraser, but in his haste he forgot to spray some on himself. He barely had time to compose himself before the front door creaked open again. He immediately slipped the bottle inside his white coat.

Two men stepped inside.

The air seemed to thin, the atmosphere tightening like a coiled spring. Shuai turned slowly. His eyes locked with the gaze of a tall man.

Earlier that day

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, gilding the small kitchen in a soft glow. The clink of plates and the faint sizzle of food filled the air as Chi moved with methodical precision, preparing breakfast.

“Chi, I might come home late tonight,” Shuai said, his tone casual but tired.

Chi glanced at him, expression unreadable. “Why?”

“I need to catch up on patient records,” Shuai explained, shoulders sagging. “I fell behind when I was… kept from working.” His voice dipped at the memory.

“Very well.” Chi set a dish in front of him, the aroma rich and warm. “Call me when you’re about to finished. I’ll pick you up.”

Shuai smiled faintly. “Sure.” He took a plate of food Chi had just cooked, the steam fogging his glasses briefly.

Later, Chi dropped Shuai off at the clinic before heading to his own duties.

The day began quietly. Shuai watered his plants, the scent of damp soil filling the air, before his staff trickled in, laughter and greetings breaking the morning calm. Patients came and went, the usual rhythm of his work easing him into routine.

Meanwhile, Suowei had been out jogging. By the time he returned, sweat plastered his shirt to his back, the sharp tang of alpha pheromones wafting ahead of him.

“Suowei, you stink,” Shuai said bluntly, covering his nose.

Suowei flushed in embarrassment. “Oh—sorry!” He darted straight into the bathroom, the sound of running water echoing down the hall. Soon, the sharp scent was replaced by soap and the chemical bite of pheromone blocker.

When he emerged, toweling his hair, he scratched his cheek awkwardly. “Sorry about that, Shuai.”

“It’s fine,” Shuai said, adjusting a syringe as he injected a patient.

“So what’s your plan for today?” Shuai asked casually.

“I checked out that night market you mentioned,” Suowei said brightly. “I’ll be selling there tonight. Already talked to a vendor—it’s all set.”

“Nice! Good luck. I’m sure you’ll sell well, just like before.”

Suowei beamed, the encouragement lighting up his face.

“Is there anything I can help with while I’m killing time?” he asked hopefully.

“Silly—you’d better rest. You’ll have a long night later,” Shuai said.

“Oh, yeah. Then I’ll take a nap.”

By four o’clock, Suowei pushed his candy cart out of the clinic and headed for the night market, whistling softly to himself.

Meanwhile, Chi’s patience was stretched thin. His father had ordered him to patrol the night market—an errand he considered beneath him.

He didn’t know which was worse: the suffocating boredom of paperwork in his father’s office, or trudging through endless rows of stalls at night, verifying permits under flickering lamplight.

The air smelled of grilled meat and sugar, thick with chatter and bargaining. Chi moved through it all, his sharp eyes missing nothing.

A commotion erupted at one stall. A burly man towered over Chi, blustering threats. When he swung a fist, Chi deflected effortlessly, countering with a precise strike to the solar plexus that sent the man crumpling, gasping for air.

Nearby, Suowei froze. His cart was parked beside an older vendor. His jaw dropped at what he’d just witnessed.

“Wow,” Suowei breathed under his breath, eyes wide. “That was… kind of cool. He flattened that guy in one move…”

The older vendor leaned close and hissed, “Pack up. That’s the inspector. If they find out you don’t have a permit, you’ll end up like him.”

The words drained the color from Suowei’s face. Panic jolted through him. He fumbled with his things, hands trembling.

Chi’s gaze snapped to the movement. He started toward him.

Desperate, Suowei grabbed a jar of candy sculptures and hurled it at him.

Chi caught it mid-air, the glass heavy in his hands. Sticky sugar smeared across his shirt, clinging to his skin.

“You—!” Chi growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Cold sweat trickled down Suowei’s spine. His admiration vanished in a heartbeat. Without thinking, he bolted, abandoning his stall.

On the second floor of an open bar, Chengyu leaned lazily against the railing, cigarette ember glowing in the dark. He watched the scene unfold below with sharp interest.

By the time Li Wang returned with drinks, the boy was already sprinting away.

Chengyu crushed the cigarette underfoot, a slow smile curving his lips. “Now this… looks amusing.”

He moved without hesitation, slipping into the chase, Li Wang close behind.

“Wait—this way leads to Chi’s little omega’s clinic,” Chengyu remarked, his voice low with intrigue.

“Oh, yeah,” said Li Wang, looking around the familiar street.

“You sure you saw him come here?” Chengyu asked, doubt flickering across his face.

“Positive,” said Li Wang.

The street ahead was deserted, the night market noise fading behind them. Only one building glowed with light—the clinic. All else lay in shadow, shuttered for the night.

They exchanged a glance before pushing inside.

The quiet inside was almost too calm, the faint scent of antiseptic hanging in the air.

For the briefest moment, Chengyu hesitated.

There was Shuai standing beside his desk. Then he turned.

Present

Shuai looked up, his expression calm, distant. His eyes met Chengyu’s—and held no recognition.

“Yes? What can I help you with?” Shuai asked, voice even.

Li Wang blinked, thrown by the question. “Uh… have you seen someone come in here?”

Shuai shook his head once, steady as stone. “No one entered other than you two.”

The air thickened, silent but weighted.

And from the back room, Suowei held his breath, praying neither man would hear the frantic beat of his heart.

Chengyu walked toward Shuai, his steps unhurried but his gaze sharp.

Shuai, following his move, stepped backwards.

Chengyu smirked, looking around the place, trying to get a whiff of the scent they were chasing. Getting none, his gaze once again fell on Shuai.

Am I someone you could forget that easily? he thought, frowning.

He walked to the consultation table, pulled out the chair, and sat there.

Shuai frowned but walked behind the desk, sitting across from Chengyu as he slipped into his doctor role.

“So, what may be your illness?” Shuai asked.

“You wound me, Doc,” Chengyu said with a crooked smile, though there was weight beneath the words. “I’ve only been away for a few weeks, and you’ve already forgotten me?”

“There are a lot of patients here. If you really were treated here, what’s your name? You might already have a chart,” Shuai replied, steady but firm. Does this guy think I memorize every patient who walks in here? he thought.

A low chuckle slipped from Chengyu’s throat. He tilted his head, eyes fixed on Shuai as though memorizing every detail.

“I suppose that can’t be helped. I must not have left much of an impression on you,” he said softly. “After all… your gaze didn’t linger on me back then.”

Shuai stiffened. Is this guy just playing with him? His polite demeanor vanished as his eyes narrowed. Meeting Chengyu’s stare stubbornly, he said, “If you don’t have any sickness, then please leave. The clinic has been closed for hours anyway.”

For a moment, neither of them moved, their gazes locked in a battle neither intended to lose.

Then Chengyu stood and bent forward until his nose nearly brushed Shuai’s cheek. He leaned closer, invading Shuai’s space.

Chengyu’s scent overwhelmed Shuai. His eyes widened, his hand flew instinctively to his neck, and his feet pushed against the floor to create distance. His other hand gripped his pen tightly.

“Hey—what are you doing?!” Shuai exclaimed.

And there, on Shuai’s sleeve, Chengyu caught it—a faint scent clung to Shuai. It was the same one they had been chasing. Chengyu’s brows furrowed.

Are you having an affair, Shuai? he thought. Instead, he asked aloud, “You like men, Doc?”

Shuai stiffened. “If you’ve got a loose screw in your head, I can recommend a good psychiatrist,” he snapped, his patience breaking.

This guy may be hot, but he’s certainly obnoxious. What a shame—the personality ruins the exterior. He said he came here weeks ago. That must’ve been before my heat. With my memories foggy then, and me not really looking at people’s faces… no wonder I forgot him. But damn… was he this overbearing before? His frown deepened.

Chengyu laughed quietly, amused by the expression. You have this side too? What a sharp tongue you’ve got.

“Don’t frown too much, Doc,” he teased. “You’ll get wrinkles.”

Shuai’s eyes narrowed further.

Chengyu finally stepped back, though his grin lingered.

“I’ll come by again,” he said, tone light yet undeniably certain. “Please do expect me.”

The moment the clinic door shut behind Chengyu, silence returned.

Something lingered in the air. A faint trace of pheromones—subtle yet sharp enough to curl around his senses. He inhaled again. Chocolatey. Shuai frowned once more. It wasn’t one he recognized. Unfamiliar, yet… not entirely.

His brows knitted. Where… have I smelled this before?

The harder he tried to place it, the more it slipped away, like a memory blurred by fog. All he knew was that his body felt strange. Heat crawled along his skin, his chest tightening, breath catching in uneven rhythm.

“No…” Shuai muttered, fumbling open a drawer. His fingers closed around a small vial of suppressant. Without hesitation, he tipped the liquid past his lips, swallowing hard.

The burn down his throat was immediate, followed by the dulling thrum of his unsettled nerves. He exhaled shakily, one hand braced against the desk, waiting for the medicine to take hold.

Just then, Suowei emerged from the back door.

“Shuai!” Suowei’s voice rang out as he stumbled inside.

Startled, Shuai nearly dropped the bottle. He quickly shoved it back into the drawer.

“What’s that? You okay?” Suowei asked, narrowing his eyes.

Shuai forced his expression neutral, though his pulse was still unsteady. “It’s nothing. Just… tired.”

“So, who’s that?” asked Suowei, his train of thought shifting as fast as an excitable child.

“Who’s what?” asked Shuai, still trying to compose himself.

“That guy who just left!” Suowei pointed toward the door, his expression a mix of shock and fascination. “You know him?”

Shuai hesitated, then rubbed the back of his neck. “…He said I once treated him.”

Suowei’s jaw dropped. “You treated a hot guy? When was that?!”

Shuai gave him a flat look. “Do I look like I remember all the patients that walked into this clinic? I can only remember six of the patients here. And that’s only because they’re regulars.”

Suowei gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Unbelievable.”

“Besides, I should be the one asking you. Why were you being chased?” Shuai asked. “You even led those two here,” he added.

“Ah… hahaha…” Suowei chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head.

“You see, I’ve gotten… into trouble at the night market,” Suowei confessed, sitting down in front of Shuai.

Shuai pulled out the scent eraser and blocker to spray on Suowei. The smell of sweat from Suowei was irritating his still-sensitive senses.

“Ah—what the hell!” Suowei yelped, stumbling back as Shuai relentlessly sprayed him with the suppressant.

“There,” Shuai said flatly, lowering the canister. “Your scent is irritating me. Now, start explaining what happened.”

Suowei wiped his drenched face, grimacing. “You see… you can only sell there if you have a permit.”

Shuai narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get a permit?”

“Ah…” Suowei scratched his head sheepishly. “To my defense, the old man I talked to said it was fine. He’s been selling there for years and never got caught.”

“And today he got caught.” Shuai folded his arms. “I guess you were his bad luck.”

“Ouch. That hurts,” Suowei muttered, pressing a hand to his chest in mock injury.

“Well, this wouldn’t have happened if you’d done the right thing,” Shuai replied sharply. “Might I remind you,” he added dryly, “that you barged in here without your cart.”

Suowei blinked, then froze. Silence stretched between them.

“Fuck!! My cart! I left it there!” he shouted, throwing his hands into the air.

Shuai pressed a hand over his forehead, exhaling a long breath. Suowei was still young; his recklessness wasn’t unusual, but it tested Shuai’s patience.

“Try to get it back tomorrow. Maybe that old man kept it safe for you,” Shuai said tiredly.

Suowei sighed, shoulders slumping. “Fine…” He trudged toward the backroom in defeat.

“For now, rest,” Shuai added, gathering his things. “I’m heading out too. This rollercoaster of events drained me.”

Suowei only waved weakly in response before disappearing behind the door.

Apartment

Shuai unlocked the door to his apartment, the quiet click echoing in the dim hallway. Chi hadn’t come to pick him up tonight—he’d texted earlier that his father had sent him out for field work. Shuai didn’t mind, especially after what had happened with Suowei and those two men. With a weary sigh, he kicked off his shoes and sank onto the couch.

Pulling out his phone, he typed a quick message: I’m home.

The message had barely been sent when the front door swung open.

There stood Chi, fragments of candy still clinging to his coat and hair. Looking unkept.

Shuai blinked once, then burst out laughing. “What on earth happened to you?” he asked, standing to peel the candy off Chi’s jacket.

“Someone threw a jar of candy at me,” Chi said with complete seriousness.

That did it—Shuai doubled over, laughter shaking his entire frame until tears blurred his eyes.

Chi only smiled, watching him with a fond glimmer in his gaze. “You…” he muttered before suddenly lunging forward, pinning Shuai onto the couch and attacking his sides with merciless tickles.

“Chi—stop! Ah—stop!” Shuai wheezed between laughs, squirming under his grip.

“You keep laughing at my expense, huh?” Chi teased, not easing up.

“Y-you’re making me sticky as you are!” Shuai protested breathlessly.

“That’s what you get for making fun of me,” Chi replied, finally shrugging off his candy-streaked coat.

Shuai pushed at him halfheartedly, cheeks flushed from laughing. “I’ll take a shower first, Chi. Hm?”

Chi’s lips curled into a wicked grin. “Why not shower together? We’ll save time… and water.”

“Pervert!” Shuai snapped, tossing a button from his shirt straight at his head.

Chi caught it with ease, laughing at Shuai’s crimson ears as he disappeared into the bathroom.

By the time Shuai came out, dressed in loose home clothes, he looked comfortably at ease again. He stretched out on the bed, then sat up immediately when Chi walked out of the bathroom, towel draped over his shoulders. Without a word, Shuai guided him to sit on the edge of the bed and began drying his hair with practiced hands.

The hairdryer hummed to life, filling the quiet room with its low whir.

“How’s the clinic?” Chi asked over the noise.

“Good,” Shuai answered, eyes focused on his task. “Always busy with patients.”

“Hmm… do you think you need more staff?” Chi probed, voice casual.

Shuai shook his head. “No need. I can still manage.” He switched off the dryer, setting it aside.

Chi caught his wrist and tugged him down onto the bed. Shuai landed softly beside him, and Chi pulled the blanket over them both, tucking Shuai close against him.

“I haven’t been to the clinic lately,” Chi murmured, brushing Shuai’s hair back with gentle fingers. “Maybe one of these days, I’ll stop by.”

“Sure…” Shuai replied sleepily, hugging Chi’s arm like a child clinging to a comfort toy. Within minutes, his breathing evened out.

Chi remained awake, watching him, listening to the soft rhythm of his breaths. His lips curved faintly, his expression unreadable.

Chapter Text

Chi sighed as he stood on the footbridge, watching the stream of cars pass below.

His lips pressed into a thin line.

The irritation eating at him had only grown in recent days. His snakes were still missing, and the absence weighed heavily on him, souring even the quietest moments.

His thoughts were cut off by his phone ringing.

“Chi,” Shuai’s voice came through the line.

“Hey,” Chi answered, a small smile tugging at his lips despite his mood.

“You’re still at work?” Shuai asked. His voice cracked faintly at the end, as though he’d been holding back something.

Chi’s brows drew together. He didn’t comment, but the sound lingered in his ears. “Yeah. Just took a break. Are you home now?”

“Mm, yeah,” Shuai said while opening the fridge, his tone steadier. “Chi, should I order food?”

“No need. I’ll grab some on the way home,” Chi said, keeping his voice gentle. “I’ll be back soon anyway.”

“Great! Can you also grab me a milk tea?” Shuai’s tone warmed—casual but expectant, though Chi could still hear the faint trace of strain beneath it.

“Sure. Same flavor?”

“Yes. See you—and be careful driving, okay?”

“Yeah. You too. See you soon.”

The line clicked off, leaving Chi staring at the screen, his faint smile lingering. But the echo of that crack in Shuai’s voice gnawed at him, heavier than before. He tucked the phone away and started across the bridge.

He didn’t get far.

A stranger bumped into him—not hard enough to make him stumble, but Chi felt the practiced swipe at his pocket. The guy tried to walk past, but Chi grabbed his wrist. Their eyes met over the mask the man wore.

Earlier that day. 

Shuai’s morning at the clinic was relentless.

Patients filled the small waiting area, most of them elderly, lined up patiently with prescriptions in hand. His day blurred into a rhythm of pulse checks, blood pressure readings, and quiet reassurances.

Shuai sat at his desk, scribbling patient records. Across from him, a young woman tilted her head shyly.

“Doc Shuai, why I haven't seen you with a girlfriend?” she asked.

Shuai smiled politely. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

The woman’s eyes lit up—until Shuai added, “But I do have a boyfriend.”

Her face fell instantly. “Sorry for disturbing you.” She muttered and left the clinic in a hurry.

From the backroom, Suowei emerged, fiddling with his sleeves. He had caught enough of the exchange to hear Shuai’s answer and his eyes widen.

As soon as the woman scurried out, Suowei blurted, “You like men?” his wide eyes and shock expression made entertain Shuai.

Shuai chuckles, standing up to meet him halfway. He placed a hand on Suowei’s shoulder, his lips curving in amusement. “What? Scared now?” he teased.

Suowei laughed awkwardly, slipping Shuai’s hand off. “No… not really,” he said with a small smile.

“I’m leaving,” Suowei added, turning toward the door.

Shuai returned to his seat, reaching into his chest pocket for a pen—only to find it missing.

When he glanced up, Suowei was smirking, twirling the pen between his fingers. With a casual flick, he tossed it across the desk.

The pen clattered onto the table. Shuai picked it up, grinning. “When did you take it?”

The pen clattered onto the table. Shuai picked it up, grinning. “When did you take it?”

“When we were talking.”

Shuai took the pen, his smile softening.

“You like that pen so much,” Suowei said.

Shuai smiled. “It’s a gift. So what’s with that quick hand of yours?”

“My second start-up is about to begin. Wish me luck,” Suowei said as he headed out of the clinic.

“Where are you going?” Shuai asked.

Suowei only waved his hand.

Not long after, the bell of the clinic rang.

“Did you forget something?” Shuai asked as he raised his head.

But Shuai’s eyes fixed on the man who had walked in. He was a little mesmerized—the man carried himself with confidence, his handsome face sporting a gentle smile.

“Why are you here again?” Shuai asked, masked his earlier starstruck with irritation.

“Didn’t I say I’d drop by?” Chengyu replied smoothly not missing how Shuai's gaze lingers on him.

“Did I agree to let you drop by?” Shuai shot back.

Chengyu snorted. “You’ve got too much bite in you, Doc.”

“If you’re here just to annoy me, please leave. I don’t have time to entertain you.” Shuai’s voice was flat, clipped.

But Chengyu only smiled, eyes drinking in every flicker of Shuai’s expression as though it were the finest entertainment.

When he leaned forward suddenly, Shuai’s chair pushed back. Alarm flashed in his eyes, but Chengyu caught his arm before he could retreat further.

“What are you doing?” Shuai snapped, a chill running down his spine. His complexion went pale as he stared at Chengyu’s grip.

Chengyu’s soft gaze sharpened. Feeling how stiff Shuai had become he released him instantly.

Shuai’s breath came sharp, his hand curling into a fist at his side, ready to lash out—when the door burst open.

A frantic mother stumbled in, clutching a wailing infant.

“Doc, please, help my baby!”

Shuai snapped back into focus. He gestured for her to bring the child closer, though the infant’s struggles made it difficult to examine.

“Ma’am, let me hold your child,” Chengyu offered.

Shuai shot him a wary look, but the mother was already handing her baby over—captivated by Chengyu’s striking features. Shuai raised a brow. Face card privilege…

Still, as he looked again, something shifted. Last night, Chengyu had been nothing but irritating. Today, Shuai noticed the finer details: the easy curve of his smile, the way his eyes softened on him, the gleam of sharp focus when he listened.

The baby calmed instantly in Chengyu’s arms.

A fleeting thought brushed Shuai’s mind—he’d make a good father.

Shuai smiled faintly and stepped closer. His pheromones slipped, soothing the child further.

Chengyu stiffened. His pupils darkened, a primal hunger stirring, but he gritted his teeth, forcing it down.

Unaware, Shuai finished the examination, drew blood for tests, and prescribed treatment.

When the procedure was over, Chengyu returned the baby gently to its mother.

“You’ll make a good father,” the woman said warmly, then glanced at Shuai. “Doc, you’re so lucky.”

Shuai startled. “Oh, no, ma’am, we’re not—”

But she was already busy with the fuzzy baby, walking out of the clinic leaving them alone.

Chengyu lingered close, the air heavy. The urge to reach out overwhelmed him.

He lifted a hand and brushed Shuai’s cheek.

Shuai flinched away instantly. “Please refrain from touching me.”

Chengyu only smiled. “I’ll get going, Doc. I’ll drop by again when I’m free.”

“You don’t need to,” Shuai retorted coldly. “The clinic’s small enough without non-patients.”

Don't be so cold doc, said Chengyu. Before leaving he asked Shuai once again. “By the way, Doc—have you remembered me?”

“Do I have to?” Shuai muttered.

“It’s Chengyu, Doc. Remember it.” He reached out and pinched Shuai’s cheek playfully.

“Ow—!” Shuai rubbed at the spot, sighing in annoyance.

“See you, Doc.” Chengyu’s grin lingered as he left.

Shuai watched Chengyu’s retreating back, a sharp scoff slipping past his lips. His hand lifted slowly, almost unwillingly—the one with the watch still strapped around his wrist.

A cruel reminder.

His eyes dulled, going blank as the weight of the touch lingered. The skin on his cheek burned with phantom heat, itching, crawling. The urge to scratch it clawed at him, relentless. His hand hovered, trembling, close to his face—yet he stopped himself.

No. Not there. Not where Chi might see.

If Chi noticed even the faintest mark, he would worry.

Still, the sensation would not fade. It was as if Chengyu’s fingertips had branded him, searing into his skin.

His hand rose to his face, nails dragging along the flesh.

The sting blossomed instantly—red lines tearing across his skin, the relief sharp and fleeting. A drop of blood welled up, sliding down to the corner of his jaw.

The sting blossomed instantly—red lines tearing across his skin, the relief sharp and fleeting. A drop of blood welled up, sliding down to the corner of his jaw.

A quiet gasp escaped him at the pain.

Shuai stared at his reflection in the mirror. As if awakened from a trance, his face went pale at what he saw.

He turned away abruptly, fumbling with the cabinet door until his medicine kit clattered into the sink. With shaking hands, he opened it and squeezed ointment onto his fingertips. The cool touch soothed the raw skin, but the shame beneath it burned hotter.

“Please… what have I done?” he whispered under his breath, rubbing the ointment in gentle circles. His vision blurred as tears welled up and spilled over, streaking his cheeks.

He pressed his forehead against the mirror, shoulders trembling.

No matter how much he tried, the past clawed its way back. No matter how hard he covered it, the wounds inside still bled.

“I’m not…” The words cracked from him, barely audible. “I’m not moving forward.”

And like always, the thought struck him, heavy and cold—

He drew his arm close to his chest, cradling it as though it were a secret he could still hide.

Alone, in that cramped bathroom, Shuai sobbed quietly—like a man drowning in water no one else could see.

When he got home, the silence of the apartment was deafening. Shuai grabbed his phone and called Chi.

On the other hand, Suowei was having the time of his life after leaving the clinic.

That morning he’d slipped out early to retrieve his cart before the clinic opened. Luck had been on his side: the cart was tucked away at the side of the market, intact. Relief flooded him as he rolled it back toward the clinic, a grin already creeping across his face.

He nearly collided with a blogger filming in the street; the lights, the camera, the gathered crowd—something clicked. Inspiration struck. Without hesitating, he wheeled the cart to a nearby shop, bought a camera, and set himself up. By noon he’d launched his own series—short, sharp clips teaching people how to spot pickpockets.

Now, freshly showered and flushed with excitement, he was livestreaming along the streets.

“Hi, guys! Bear with me tonight—it’s my first time doing this. I’ll be showing you how pickpockets swipe your personal belongings,” Suowei chirped, beaming at his phone as he walked.

Crossing the footbridge, his eyes locked on a man below, watching the traffic with quiet focus.

“Okay, guys, here’s our target. Watch and learn.”

He tucked his phone away, adjusted the hidden camera, pulled his hat lower, and walked casually toward the stranger.

Deliberately, he bumped into the man—and swiped the phone.

But as he walked past, a firm hand latched onto his wrist.

“Are you alright?” Suowei asked smoothly.

“Thank you,” said Chi.

Suowei quickly grabbed the phone from his back pocket, intending to return it.

But Chi didn’t know that. His eyes narrowed, and he tightened his hold on Suowei’s hand, twisting it sharply. In an instant, Suowei’s arm was bent at an awkward angle, forcing him to his knees.

“You faked a fall,” Suowei groaned.

“And you pretended to bump into me,” Chi retorted.

The pressure on his wrist intensified. Pain shot up Suowei’s arm, making him gasp.

“Ah—wait, brother, you’re mistaken! I’m just recording a video,” Suowei winced, fumbling in his pocket. “I’m not a thief. Here, here!”

He pulled out Chi’s phone and held it in the air.

Chi took it back—but didn’t release him.

“See? I’m not a thief. Do you believe me now? Please let me go, bro,” Suowei pleaded.

Chi studied him carefully. He already recognized the boy—that was why he’d let him bump into him so easily.

“I’m not really a thief, bro,” Suowei repeated desperately.

Chi scoffed, dragging him to his feet and twisting both arms behind his back, pinning them tightly.

“Ah! What else do you want, bro? Please! I’m not really a thief,” Suowei begged through gritted teeth.

Chi smirked, yanking down Suowei’s mask and tightening his hold.

“You brought yourself to me on your own. How laughable.”

“Wait—have we met before?” Suowei asked, squinting up at him. He didn’t recognize Chi; his memories of that night were hazy, and with his colorblindness, distinguishing people at a distance had always been difficult.

“Bro, I have proof I’m not a thief. Let me show you!”

Chi finally let him go. Suowei groaned in relief, rubbing his sore wrist before quickly pulling out his phone. He shoved the screen toward Chi.

“Look, I run an anti-pickpocket account. You’re just a random passerby I chose. This is just to educate people about common thief tactics,” Suowei explained animatedly, his gestures wide, his expression earnest.

Chi watched him closely, amused by how Suowei’s face shifted with every word—his wide, expressive eyes, the little pouts of his mouth. Like a cartoon bunny, he thought. For a moment, he was distracted.

“Look, the livestream will vouch for my innocence,” Suowei added, showing him the screen. Comments were already flooding in, some viewers even swooning over Chi’s looks caught on camera.

Chi snatched the phone and ended the livestream.

Suowei’s breathing hitched in panic.

Chi scoffed again. Holding the phone, he strode toward the bridge railing in two long steps, dangling it as though he might drop it into the traffic below.

Suowei’s eyes widened. He lunged forward, arms outstretched. “Bro, wait—don’t drop my phone!”

“What’s your name?” Chi asked coldly.

“Wu Suo Wei!”

Chi’s brow furrowed. “What? How arrogant.” His grip loosened—then tightened again as he pretended to drop the phone, making Suowei cry out.

“Ah! I’m telling the truth—it’s Wu Suo Wei! That’s my real name. Here—my ID card!”

He shoved his ID toward Chi.

Chi snatched it and looked. Indeed, the name read Wu Suowei.

Suowei smiled nervously. “See? This is all just a misunderstanding.” His grin stretched wide, almost childlike.

“Quite unique,” Chi muttered, studying that harmless, innocent face.

Suowei fiddled with his fingers, looking sheepish. “Not at all…” he said softly.

Chi pocketed both the ID card and the phone in one hand, then with the other, grabbed Suowei by the neck, pressing him against the railing.

“Why did you throw candies at me that night?” Chi growled, his hand tightening.

Recognition flashed across Suowei’s face. “Bro—I didn’t mean to!” His hands clawed at Chi’s wrist, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to splash you. Please… I was wrong! Sorry!” His breath hitched as his airway closed, tears pricking his eyes.

Chi eventually released him, handing back his phone and ID. Suowei collapsed forward, coughing and clutching at his throat.

Chi then reached into Suowei's chest pocket and yanked out the small camera pinned there.

“Bro—please, no! That camera is expensive! That's my livelihood!” Suowei begged, clutching at Chi’s arm.

Chi stopped, turning a sharp glare on him.

Suowei immediately let go, raising his hands in surrender.

“You have two options,” Chi said flatly. “Either you get beaten up by me—”

Suowei’s head shook furiously.

“—or you have your device confiscated.”

“I choose to be beaten!” Suowei blurted. Better that than losing his precious gear.

Chi couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s settled, then.” He pocketed the camera and walked away.

“Please—I spent so much money on it! Give it back!” Suowei cried, running after him. But Chi didn’t slow.

“Ge!!” was the last desperate shout Suowei managed as Chi drove off in his car.

Chi hazardously parked in front of Guozi’s bar.

Gang Zi had brought their “special guest,” whom they had locked in the basement of his home for several days. Chi’s patience had finally snapped.

“Where is Guozi?” Chi asked. He had chosen Guozi’s club to confirm things. But if he wasn’t here… fine. He’d leave that pest behind for Guozi to clean up.

“Not here yet. Will you wait for him?” Gang Zi asked.

“No. We should hurry. Shuai’s waiting at home with no food,” Chi replied.

Gang Zi nodded and led him to the room where their guest was kept.

Chi walked inside and sank onto the couch.

“You gave us quite a bit of trouble to find you,” Chi said.

“He tried to escape abroad. Funny thing, really,” Gang Zi added. A couple of men stood inside the room along with Long, who was trembling on his knees.

“Long… How does it feel to finally get out of that basement? Had your fill of fresh air?” Chi asked.

Long crawled toward him, clutching at his knees. “Mr. Chi, please. Your father brought a dozen men to me—I was scared to death! It was your father who questioned me. Otherwise I wouldn’t have told him anything,” he lied desperately.

Chi leaned back, lighting a cigarette, unmoved.

Gang Zi grabbed Long’s collar and yanked him away, making him choke. “Don’t lie.”

“I only did what your father asked,” Long pleaded.

“The call from the chairman’s office came from Guo Chengyu’s men, didn’t it? When the chairman came to you, you were already gone,” Chi said coldly.

He leaned forward, extinguishing his cigarette in the ashtray. With a flick of his hand, he gestured. “Come here.”

Long crawled toward him like a dog.

Chi cupped his face in both hands. “What do you think of him?” he asked the men.

“Not bad. We quite like him,” they said.

“Everyone likes you,” Chi said with a smile.

Long finally realized his situation. “Wait—wait, Mr. Chi!” Panic spread across his face.

“I leave him to you. I’m going,” Chi announced, standing. Long’s begging voice followed him as the men closed in.

“Mr. Chi, I was wrong! Don’t touch me!” Long screamed.

Chi smirked, glancing at Gang Zi.“Watch out. Don’t let him die.

If Shuai learns about this, he’ll be terrified of you,” Gang Zi warned.

“Then it’s a good thing my Shuai only ever stays in the clinic or at home,” Chi replied. “Don’t slip up when you’re with Shuai.”

As he left, his thoughts turned bitter. Chengyu, are you really the one behind my missing snakes? What are you planning, messing with me like this? His teeth clenched, but the anger ebbed as guilt pricked at him. He still hadn’t told Chengyu about Shuai. His urge to keep Shuai safe—fragile as he was—outweighed everything else. If fate wove a meeting between them, then so be it. He would let Shuai go… but not without ensuring Chengyu could live with Chi’s shadow looming nearby.

That was the only compromise he could allow.

Outside, near his car, Yue Yue and her boyfriend stood waiting.

“Who the fuck parks like this?” the boyfriend snarled, kicking Chi’s wheel.

Chi’s eyes narrowed. He walked toward the car, unbothered.

“Is this your car?” the boyfriend asked arrogantly. “Move it, or I’ll smash it.”

Chi didn’t answer. He slid into the driver’s seat, rolled down the window, and glanced their way.

“What are you waiting for? Drive along,” Zhen Long mocked.

As Yue Yue and her boyfriend drove away, her gaze lingered on Chi. That’s the kind of man I deserve, she thought.

Her boyfriend’s hand slid up her thigh.

“Don’t touch me. Focus on driving,” she snapped, disgust curdling inside.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

Feigning ignorance, Yue Yue smiled faintly. “Nothing.”

Just then, headlights blazed at them head-on.

“Damn it, he blinded me!” the boyfriend cursed.

“Slow down!” Yue Yue urged.

But he kept going.

“Just give way!” she shouted, clutching the handle.

“Fuck!” he roared, jerking the wheel. The car smashed into a tree.

Chi pulled up beside them and opened the passenger seat of the wrecked car. Yue Yue crawled out, her eyes fixed on him with admiration.

The door clicked open back at the apartment. Chi stepped in, balancing a paper bag and two milk teas. His steps froze when he saw Shuai—the bandage stark on his pale cheek.

In an instant, Chi crossed the room. Setting the bag and drinks on the table with a thud, he cupped Shuai’s face gently, brows furrowing.

“What happened to your face?”

Shuai blinked, gaze drifting aside. “A baby scratched me while I was drawing blood.” His voice sounded practiced, but the lie was fragile, like glass too thin to touch.

Chi knew. He always knew. The way Shuai’s lips trembled, the shift of his eyes—it was all there. But he didn’t press. Not now. Not when Shuai’s smile was already close to breaking.

Shuai forced a brightness into the air, grabbing a milk tea. “What took you so long? I almost died of hunger.” He poked at the straw like it was the most important task in the world.

Chi’s lips curved faintly, though his gaze lingered on the bandage.

“You dive into the food right away. No hug at all?” he teased softly.

That earned a reluctant chuckle. Shuai turned and hugged him. But as his cheek pressed against Chi’s shoulder, a sharp whiff of floral perfume filled his nose. Shuai pulled back with a frown.

“What are you doing sniffing me?” Chi asked, trying to ease the moment as he cupped Shuai’s face again.

“You smell weird. Did you put on perfume?”

“What smell?”

“Floral. I don’t like it. It makes me nauseous.”

Chi’s face darkened. That woman’s perfume. It must have clung to his coat. He smoothed his expression with a huff.

“I’ll take a bath. I bumped into someone at work—her perfume was too strong.”

Shuai nodded, already pulling food closer. “I’m not waiting for you. I’m really hungry.”

Chi chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Yeah, go ahead, my little glutton.”

Shuai laughed softly too, though the faint crease of sadness never left his eyes.