Chapter Text
Gao Tu had handed his resignation letter to Shen Wenlang earlier that morning and left the company without looking back. His hands with only a small cardboard box even after years of working at HS Group. It was meant to be the final step that would give him a new start in life, and yet, bitterness settles beneath his chest.
He returns to his small apartment in silence. The air thick with the smell of an omega in distress. His suitcase remains untouched. He is long supposed to be ready to leave the city. To disappear for good.
He walks into his small kitchen, a space that holds memories of many lonely late dinners. And yet also warm, fond moments with Shen Wenlang. Gao Tu reaches for the graduation photo on his kitchen counter. But before he can take another step, searing pain rips through his body. He staggers, clutching the edge of the kitchen counter for support. He desperately gasps for breath as the room spins. His other hand flies to his stomach. Right where his little baby is growing. He can’t stop the rising fear that something is terribly wrong.
The walls close in around him, and the pain twists through him. His legs give out. Gao Tu drops to his knees, his forehead hitting the cold floor. A broken sound escapes his lips. Something between a sob and a desperate prayer.
“Please…” he whispers, voice barely more than a breath. “Please keep my baby safe… I swear, I would never hurt him. Never again.”
Tears slide down his cheeks as he fights to stay conscious. His shaking hand stretches toward the cell phone lying just inches away, but it is too far. But he has to reach it. He has to call Shen Wenlang. He has to say the words—the ones he should have said long ago.
His breathing turns shallow. Each inhale is lighter than the last, as if the world is slowly pulling away from him. Through the haze and pain, only one thing remains clear in his mind.
Wenlang.
His face. His voice. The way he used to look at him when things between them still felt real.
All the words he swallows. All the truths he hides. Now, when it might already be too late, they fill his chest like stones.
I love you.
The words echo in his mind.
Then, everything goes black.
Darkness is the first thing he sees when his bleary eyes open. A dull ache settles behind his temple. Every part of his body feels heavy and sore.
The sound of loud laughter makes his migraine worse. Muffled bass rumbles through the walls with each beat sends a pulse of dread through his chest. This isn’t the hospital. It isn’t his apartment.
Something is wrong.
A dim ceiling light casts an uneven glow around the room. Shadows dance at the corners of his vision. He barely makes out the shapes around him. The air is heavy with the musk of oversaturated alpha pheromones.
Gao Tu tries to sit up, but pain flares across his body. He groans softly and presses a trembling hand to his side.
Where the hell am I?
How did I get here?
His memories come in fragments — the resignation, the pain, the desperate plea for his baby’s safety. Then…nothing.
Now, he is here. In a place that reeks of danger and despair with numerous alphas on the verge of rut. His hand rests on his stomach. A gesture Gao Tu doesn't realize is meant to soothe himself.
And for the first time in a long while, Gao Tu is truly afraid.
His body is soaked in cold sweat at the possibility of being kidnapped. Did his father somehow get his address and give it to the loan sharks?
His thoughts are cut short when a sudden shove sends his body falling forward into the center of the light. His hands instinctively fly to protect his stomach. He lands on his side with a small grunt. His glasses, still on the bridge of his nose, bring him face to face with a pair of black dress shoes.
Laughter echoes off the walls as he tries to fix his glasses and meet the gaze of the unfamiliar group of men before him. They look like they are all in their twenties, maybe early thirties at most. Surrounded by pretty omegas, it is clear what kind of group this is. The overpowering stench of alpha pheromones flooding the room says it all.
Shen Wenlang would never associate with people like them—’those arrogant, dick-measuring young masters who did nothing but waste time on playing and chasing after gold-digging omegas to feed their fragile little egos.’ He'd once said it with clear disdain, pulling Gao Tu a little closer during a business banquet. The possessive press of Shen Wenlang’s arm against Gao Tu’s back made his heart leap into his throat, and he nearly missed the words that followed—low, sharp, and meant only for him. ‘Don’t leave my side when you’re near them, Gao Tu. Those greedy bastards might mistake you for a filthy omega.’
If only Shen Wenlang is here now.
“Is this Young Master Sheng’s new plaything? I didn’t take you for someone into little honor students.”
Honor student?
Gao Tu hasn’t been a student in a decade and he certainly doesn’t look like one anymore. Most people recognize him as Shen Wenlang’s secretary, thanks to years of being photographed at banquets and high-profile events by his side. There’s no way these loan sharks are clueless enough to mistake him for some naive student… unless his father fed them that lie first.
Gao Tu instinctively leans away from the unfamiliar man looming too close, who seems to take pleasure in his discomfort—smirking as if he enjoys the clear sign of nerves.
“A beta,” the man says, oblivious to the way Gao Tu freezes at the word. “Though a pretty one. Tired of playing with omegas and looking for a change of taste, Sheng Shaoqing?”
A twinge of déjà vu twists in the pit of his stomach. The words sound familiar, but he can’t quite place where he heard them before. Behind him, the sharp echo of approaching footsteps cuts through his thoughts. A moment later, a sly, fox-like face appears over his shoulder—someone he can only assume is “Sheng Shaoqing.”
“This pathetic freeloader? An honor student? Please.” Sheng Shaoqing’s voice dripped with venom.
“He’d be nothing without my father’s charity—walking around like he’s better than everyone else, when all he’s ever done is take.”
Sheng Shaoqing seizes Gao Tu’s arm, completely unfazed when Gao Tu flinches and tries to pull away. His eyes lock onto Gao Tu’s with a strange, unsettling glint that makes him go still.
“And really with all that money thrown his way… shouldn’t he at least give something back,” Sheng Shaoqing’s voice drops lower, almost mocking.
That same unsettling déjà vu creeps in again. Wait—could it be?
The realization comes quickly. The conversation, the atmosphere… it all feels eerily familiar, almost identical to a novel he once reads: The Playboy and the Well-Behaved Omega Student.
He picks it up on a whim after overhearing a heated debate among some staff members. It isn’t like he ever has time to indulge in novels—neither as a student nor as an adult. Back then, he was too focused on keeping his grades high enough to maintain his scholarship; now, work consumes nearly every waking hour.
He only starts the novel on a particularly bleak day—when Shen Wenlang seems far too close to Hua Yong, when his sister’s surgery weighs heavily on his mind, and when the endless phone calls from his father leave him emotionally drained. It is supposed to be a distraction. Just something to escape into. What a mistake that is.
The novel follows a poor student, top of his university class, whose education is made possible by sponsorship from a prominent company. His future seems set—until he crosses paths with the CEO’s notorious second son at the company. While the eldest is groomed to be the perfect heir, the second son earns a reputation as a reckless playboy, more suited to running a nightclub than a corporation. Harboring a deep-seated inferiority complex toward his successful S-class alpha half-brother, the second son’s jealousy ignites when he sees the student treat his older brother with genuine respect. From that moment, the second son makes it his mission to make the student’s life a living hell.
Coercion. Blackmail. Rape. Manipulation.
The man is behind everything. The biggest twist? The student isn’t a beta—he is an omega. The second young master forces him to bear his child, orchestrating a cruel campaign that includes spreading rumors that the student is a kept man, earning money as an escort. The whispers only fuel the bullying he faces at school. Then comes the final blow—he loses his scholarship, all part of a calculated effort to make him dependent solely on the second young master. All of it—done in the name of love. And yet, despite everything, the novel ends with them still together.
At the time, Gao Tu had half a mind to report the author to the authorities, considering how blatantly the story trampled on the ABO Equality Agreement. And now, Gao Tu realizes—he is in the protagonist’s place.
Sheng Shaoqing chuckles, draping an arm over Gao Tu’s shoulders. “That’s why I brought him out to play. He clearly doesn’t appreciate how well I treat him. So I thought… why not let my friends have some fun?”
Laughter and jeers echo around the room. Sheng Shaoqing’s arm holds him in place when Gao Tu attempts to yank it away.
“Sheng Shaoqing, come on,” one of the men jokes. “You make us sound like villains.”
Gao Tu swats at the hands tugging at his shirt, but his body is shaking. The alpha pheromones in the room are overwhelming. He can barely breathe.
Please don’t find out I’m an omega. Please don’t.
Then—
“Oh? What’s this?” Someone tugs at the emblem on his uniform.
The room falls silent.
A voice speaks lacing with amusement.
“He goes to the same university as you, Shen Wenlang.”
Everyone looks up.
Gao Tu follows their gaze.
And sees him.
A younger Shen Wenlang, no older than a university student, lounges apart from the others. He is calm and composed like a king among unruly subjects.
The sight knocks the air out of his lungs.
His breath stutters.
His chest tightens.
“What of it?” Shen Wenlang asks, eyes locking onto Gao Tu.
It’s suffocating.
That face. That voice. Those eyes.
He remembers them all too well.
Sheng Shaoqing sneers, tightening his grip on Gao Tu’s arm. “If you’re interested in him, take him. Everyone knows your aversion to omegas.”
Gao Tu lowers his gaze as more laughter fills the room.
“Why not try a beta for once?” Sheng Shaoqing smirks, turning Gao Tu’s face toward Shen Wenlang. “See if he suits your taste.”
Shen Wenlang doesn't respond immediately.
The room holds its breath, tension pooling thick in the air. Gao Tu dares not look up. He keeps his eyes on the floor, heart hammering in his chest. Every part of him screams to run. But there is nowhere to go, and he can’t draw attention to himself. Not when a single wrong move could expose everything.
He risks a glance upward.
Shen Wenlang's gaze is unreadable. Cold. His fingers tap idly against the armrest of his seat, but Gao Tu catches the faint flicker of something behind his eyes—curiosity? Disdain? Recognition?
No. Impossible.
This Shen Wenlang doesn’t know him yet. This isn’t the man Gao Tu once watched from afar, the man he loved in silence for years. The man whose back he followed through corridors and meeting rooms, always one step behind, always too late. This isn’t the Shen Wenlang who never looked his way, who never noticed the way Gao Tu lingered on every word, every glance, every rare moment of kindness.
This is the Shen Wenlang from before it all began.
And to him, Gao Tu is just another face in the crowd.
Sheng Shaoqing shoves him forward. “Go on. Beg him to take you. Isn’t that what you do best? Bat your lashes, play the part, wait for someone with money to pick you up.”
Gao Tu stumbles, catching himself on trembling hands.
The floor is sticky with spilled liquor. The stink of pheromones clogs his throat.
He wants to scream.
Not because of the humiliation. Not because of Sheng Shaoqing’s words.
But because he knows exactly what scene this is.
It’s the scene—the one that shifts the entire novel into motion. The moment when Sheng Shaoqing’s friend first lays claim to the protagonist. Not out of compassion but out of lust and cruelty. In the book, this is where everything begins to fall apart.
And Gao Tu—
He can’t let it happen. He can’t let the one he loves take the place of that villain.
“I’m not for sale,” he says, voice soft but steady. He doesn’t look at Shen Wenlang. “I didn’t ask to come here. I didn’t agree to anything.”
Laughter breaks out around him again, sharp and cruel.
Sheng Shaoqing steps in front of him, his smile tight and strained. “You talk big for someone without a cent to their name.”
Gao Tu holds his gaze, calm but defiant. “If it inconveniences you, I can simply leave.”
Sheng Shaoqing’s face darkens.
One of the other men whistles low. “Oof. That one’s got teeth.”
“He’s wasting his breath,” another scoffs. “No one here’s gonna back him up.”
But that’s when a new voice cuts through the noise.
“I’ll take him.”
The room goes quiet.
Gao Tu’s breath catches.
Slowly, he turns his head.
Shen Wenlang is on his feet, straightening the cuff of his sleeve as he steps into the circle of light. His eyes settle on Gao Tu—not with affection, not even with anger. Just calculation.
Like he’s already decided.
“He’s under my name now,” Shen Wenlang says, voice calm and cutting. “If you touch him again, you answer to me.”
Sheng Shaoqing scoffs. “You serious? You’re really going to fight me over this?”
Shen Wenlang’s smile is mild. Cold. “Why not? I’m bored. And you look like you could use the loss.”
Shen Wenlang reaches down, hand outstretched.
For a moment, Gao Tu doesn’t move.
He doesn’t want this.
He doesn’t want to be swept into the same story—bought, pitied, controlled. Taking Shen Wenlang’s hand now would be the first step down that familiar path. But maybe this Shen Wenlang isn’t like the villain in the novel. Deep down, Gao Tu dares to hope he’s not.
And what choice does he have?
He takes it.
Their fingers touch.
It hits him all at once—how familiar those eyes are, that face, the shape of a frown that once used to soften for him alone. But this isn't his Shen Wenlang. His Shen Wenlang is gone.
Gao Tu died. Just died—no goodbye, no time to explain, no words left behind. He vanished without warning, leaving Shen Wenlang to carry the weight of his absence. That guilt still gnaws at Gao Tu. As his body failed and life slipped from his grasp, he knew there would be no chance to make it right.
Now he stands face to face with a younger version of the man he once loved more than life itself. The grief crashes back like a tidal wave, sharp and suffocating. It leaves him breathless.
His chest aches. All he can do is stare.
This isn’t a reunion. This is punishment. Punishment for never telling his Shen Wenlang the truth.
Gao Tu’s eyes search the face before him. He looks for something—familiarity, comfort, forgiveness, anything at all—but finds nothing. Only distance. Only silence.
The emotional shock hits him hard. His hands tremble before he can still them. His Shen Wenlang’s eyes once held a quiet warmth that never wavered, even when Gao Tu was sure he no longer deserved it. But this Shen Wenlang stares back, guarded and unreadable.
And still, he can’t look away. Can’t stop searching his face like he’s trying to memorize every detail all over again. Trying to find even a piece of the man he loved.
A whistle cuts through the tension.
One of the young masters laughs. “Damn, looks like the little university student’s itching to jump into Young Master Shen’s bed. Sheng Shaoqing, you better watch out. You might lose your precious student.”
The others snicker. Gao Tu barely hears them. His heart pounds in his ears. His throat tightens. His eyes only on Shen Wenlang.
He doesn’t see the way Sheng Shaoqing stiffens.
The amusement slips from Sheng Shaoqing’s face. Something colder replaces it. A flicker of jealousy, sharp and unspoken. He watches Gao Tu sit quietly beside Shen Wenlang, obedient and still. He isn't fighting. He isn't talking back. He simply is—and that effortless submission, given so easily to someone else, makes Sheng Shaoqing’s jaw tighten.
He struggles to control his expression, lips pressing into a thin smile. The air between them shifts, heavy and sharp. He reaches for a distraction, pouring shot after shot of liquor for Shen Wenlang, trying to change the mood. Maybe if Shen Wenlang drinks enough, he’ll forget. Maybe Gao Tu will disappear again, just for tonight.
But Gao Tu reaches out without hesitation. He takes the glass from Shen Wenlang’s hand and drinks it in one smooth motion. Like muscle memory. Because it is. He’s done this before—at countless banquets, countless dinners—quietly stepping in, taking drinks meant for Shen Wenlang without being asked.
The familiarity of it stings more than Sheng Shaoqing expects. It speaks of history. Of something deeper. Of loyalty and intimacy.
Something ugly twists in his chest. He wants to grab Gao Tu by the collar, demand the truth. He needs to know when and where Gao Tu met Shen Wenlang, what history they share. But he forces himself to stay still. His fingers curl around the neck of the bottle, silent rage simmering low in his gut. He says nothing.
He can’t afford to.
He already played the role of the generous host. Already gave his word. And Shen Wenlang is not someone he can cross lightly. Young, powerful, already a CEO—Sheng Shaoqing knows how dangerous it would be to make an enemy of him.
So he watches.
Gao Tu keeps drinking. One glass. Then another. A red flush spreads across his cheeks. His eyes glaze over. Every alpha in the room notices. They can’t look away. Gao Tu sways where he sits, then leans against Shen Wenlang’s shoulder like it’s the only place he belongs.
He is very clearly intoxicated.
Shen Wenlang stands without a word. He reaches for Gao Tu, steadying him with a hand on his arm. Gao Tu leans into the touch, too far gone to resist. Too used to following.
Shen Wenlang walks toward the hallway, guiding Gao Tu with him. He doesn’t look back. No one tries to stop them.
Laughter erupts behind them. Cheers and crude jokes echo in their wake.
“Finally gonna become a man, Shen Wenlang?”
“Try not to break the kid.”
“Don’t forget to share.”
The voices blur together. Mocking. Loud. Someone claps Sheng Shaoqing on the back like it’s all just fun, like he’s part of the joke.
He doesn’t move.
He sits frozen, his drink long forgotten in his hand. His eyes stay fixed on the disappearing figures of Gao Tu and Shen Wenlang. His nails dig into his palm. The sting keeps him grounded as something bitter and burning coils beneath his ribs.
He doesn’t even notice the hand on his back or the way he shoves it off.
He can’t stop what’s happening. Not now. Not without revealing everything. Not without losing control.
And he isn’t ready for that.
Not yet.
During the car ride, their bodies press close. Gao Tu doesn’t know where they’re going. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t need to. Somewhere deep in his gut, he trusts Shen Wenlang—even if this isn’t his Shen Wenlang.
It’s the silence that unnerves him most. It gives his mind too much room to wander.
He leans his head against Shen Wenlang’s shoulder, breathing slowly, carefully. Trying not to feel. Trying not to fall.
But it’s already happening.
The soft scent of iris grounds him, steadying his fraying nerves.
He should pull away. He knows that. This Shen Wenlang isn’t his. He repeats that thought over and over like a mantra.
Because his Shen Wenlang is gone. Lost to time and to the lies Gao Tu never had the courage to untangle. Lies about who he was, what he was. The inhibitors. The silence. All those half-truths he convinced himself were for the best.
He thought he was protecting them both. But all it did was push them further apart until there was nothing left to protect.
Maybe even if he’d told the truth, things wouldn’t have ended differently. Maybe Shen Wenlang would have walked away anyway. But at least they would’ve remained in the same world. At least he wouldn’t have died carrying that silence.
Now, beside this younger version of Shen Wenlang, the weight of regret crashes into him all over again. He wants to pull away. But more than that, he wants to stay. To lean into the familiar warmth. Even if it’s no longer meant for him.
Shen Wenlang doesn’t speak. He simply lets Gao Tu rest there, unmoving. The only words he offers are to the driver, asking him to stop for hangover medication.
Gao Tu closes his eyes.
The silence is suffocating. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to destroy this fragile moment. Just once, he wants to be selfish. Just once, he wants to be held without consequence.
When the car finally stops, Gao Tu glances out the window and feels his chest tighten.
He recognizes the building. Shen Wenlang’s apartment—or at least a version of it.
They go inside the apartment without a word.
Shen Wenlang supports him with a careful hand, guiding him to the bedroom with a gentleness that cuts more deeply than any cruelty ever could. Gao Tu follows in a haze, as if caught in a beautiful dream.
The room is dim. The sheets are cool.
He lies there, still, until a small box lands beside him.
“Take it,” Shen Wenlang says, referring to the pills.
Then he walks out, leaving Gao Tu alone.
Gao Tu doesn’t move. He stares at the ceiling. The weight in his chest settles deeper. How long can he stay in this world—carrying this version of Shen Wenlang in his arms—without ever telling the truth?
Later, when the dizziness fades and his head starts to clear, Shen Wenlang returns.
He doesn’t shout. He never does, not with Gao Tu. His voice is calm, clipped with quiet anger.
“You’re supposed to be a scholarship student,” he says, standing near the bed, arms crossed. “So why are you wasting your time with people like that? Do you think messing around with useless young masters will help your future?”
The words are blunt. Cold on the surface. But the concern is there—buried beneath the rough edges. Gao Tu hears it in the way Shen Wenlang adjusts the blanket slipping from his shoulder. In the way he speaks at all.
And that’s what hurts most.
Even in this world, Shen Wenlang is still the same. Careful. Harsh. Guarded. But present.
Gao Tu’s chest tightens. He swore he wouldn’t do this again. This isn’t his Shen Wenlang. He has no right to reach for what was lost.
But watching this version show that same quiet care makes it impossible to turn away.
Maybe this is fate giving him a second chance. Not to reclaim the past, but to do better. To live differently. To stay close, even from a distance.
To carry his baby safely this time.
The words leave his mouth before he can stop them.
“I’ve liked you for a long time,” he says quietly. “I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”
Shen Wenlang freezes.
Then he turns away, exhales sharply through his nose, and runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t joke like that,” he mutters. “If you need money, just ask. You don’t have to say things like that.”
Gao Tu blinks. The deflection stings—not cruel, but stripped bare of softness. Like Shen Wenlang is trying to build a wall before anything can get too close.
“I’m not like those other guys,” Shen Wenlang continues, voice tightening. “If you think throwing yourself at someone will fix your problems, it won’t work on me. And besides… you’re a beta. You don’t have to stoop to this.”
The words cut. Not because they’re harsh. But because they confirm exactly what Gao Tu feared—that his feelings might never be seen as real.
He lowers his eyes, fingers curling into the sheets.
He wants to explain. To tear down the silence between them. But nothing comes out.
So he forces himself to speak.
“I wasn’t trying to sell myself,” he says, voice raw. “That’s not what tonight was.”
Shen Wenlang doesn’t answer. But he listens.
“I didn’t even want to be there. Sheng Shaoqing is the son of my scholarship sponsor. I… I couldn’t say no.”
Shen Wenlang turns slightly, suspicion narrowing his gaze.
“He forced you?”
Gao Tu nods.
“He said if I didn’t go along, I’d lose everything. Tuition. Housing. Everything I worked for.”
He looks up, searching Shen Wenlang’s face for anything—understanding, even just a lack of rejection.
“I wasn’t trying to manipulate you,” he says. “I didn’t say I liked you to get something out of you. I said it because it’s the truth.”
His voice softens.
“I’ve liked you since high school. But you were always focused. Always out of reach. I didn’t know how to get close. And I know this isn’t the same—you don’t know me. You owe me nothing. I just wanted you to hear it. Once. From me.”
Shen Wenlang breathes in slowly and presses a hand to his face, dragging his fingers down his cheek.
“I don’t like being lied to.”
“I know.”
“I don’t like being dragged into someone else’s mess.”
“I’m sorry.”
The silence that follows isn’t sharp. It’s uncertain.
Then Shen Wenlang steps closer to the bed. His gaze meets Gao Tu’s, unwavering.
“So Sheng Shaoqing has been using your situation to control you?”
“Yes.”
“Since the start?”
“Yes.”
“And you thought using me would fix it?”
Gao Tu flinches. “I didn’t plan it. I just didn’t know what else to do. But I wasn’t trying to trap you. I swear.”
Shen Wenlang studies him. Gao Tu holds his breath.
“If you’re telling the truth,” Shen Wenlang says finally, quieter now, “then stop letting perverts like him walk all over you. Why are you so spineless? Even if it means losing the scholarship—say something. Come to me.”
Gao Tu’s heart skips. “Come to you?”
Shen Wenlang’s expression doesn’t change. But his eyes narrow, as if testing something.
“If you really like me,” he says slowly, “prove it.”
Gao Tu’s mouth opens, then closes. He doesn’t know how. Doesn’t know what “proof” means.
Only one answer has lived in his chest all these years.
He leans forward—and kisses him.
It’s not perfect. Not practiced. Just soft. Unshaking. A question wrapped in longing.
Shen Wenlang doesn’t move.
When Gao Tu pulls back, his heart is pounding.
Shen Wenlang stares at him—silent, stunned, as if he’s forgotten how to speak.
Then he clears his throat and looks away, ears faintly pink. “That was awful. You’re a terrible kisser.”
His voice cracks just a little.
Gao Tu doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t tease. He just watches him, quietly.
The moment stretches, raw and uncertain.
“Why would you help me?” he asks.
Shen Wenlang hesitates.
“Because watching you sit there like your future means nothing pisses me off. You’re not some pathetic omega.”
Gao Tu’s breath catches.
He wants to believe it’s the alcohol messing with him. But the words strike too close to memories he’s buried. His hands curl into his lap.
Then he speaks again.
“What if I were an omega? Would you still help me? Or would you think I’m just trying to sell myself?”
Silence falls.
This time, it’s sharp. Still. Waiting.
Gao Tu meets Shen Wenlang’s piercing eyes. He doesn’t look away.
He hadn’t meant to say it. But now that it’s out—he doesn’t want to take it back.
And maybe, for the first time...
He doesn’t have to.