Chapter Text
The first memory Gao Tu had of them was the color red.
Not the loud, aggressive red of firecrackers bursting in the sky, nor the heavy crimson of palace walls from history books. It was a gentle, warm red—the soft glow of silk lanterns swaying in the evening breeze, their tassels brushing against one another, whispering secrets of fate.
He was six years old then.
His feet barely touched the ground as he sat on the carved wooden chair, dressed in layers of ceremonial clothing that felt far too heavy for his small body. His hands were cold, hidden inside wide sleeves embroidered with golden threads. Someone had brushed his hair carefully, tying it up in a neat style, placing a small jade ornament at the crown of his head.
All around him, voices murmured—soft laughter, hushed conversations, the clinking of porcelain cups. Incense drifted through the air, curling lazily above red paper cuttings pasted on every door and window.
The adults looked happy. Nervous. Excited.
But Gao Tu only felt confused.
He did not understand why everyone kept calling him xiao furen—little wife.
He did not understand why he had to sit so still, why he had to bow so many times, or why three boys stood in front of him, each dressed in miniature ceremonial robes, staring at him as if he were the most precious treasure in the world.
Hua Yong was the youngest among them, his eyes bright and sharp, his lips curved into a mischievous smile even in the solemn atmosphere. Sheng Shaoyou stood straight-backed, already showing signs of the elegance and calm that would one day define him. Shen Wenlang, the eldest, watched quietly, his dark eyes serious and deep, far too mature for a child of ten.
They were brothers.
And on that day, all three of them became his husbands.
Not in law, not in life, but in promise.
A child marriage arranged by two powerful families, sealed with incense and red silk, bound by tradition, obligation, and a destiny no one dared to challenge.
They bowed together. And when their foreheads touched the floor, Gao Tu felt a strange warmth in his chest, though he did not yet know its name.
Fifteen years later.
The memory faded like mist under sunlight as Gao Tu stood in the bustling courtyard of the Gao family estate, his hands filled with red ribbons and invitation cards.
“Gao Tu, be careful with those!” Aunt Liu called from behind. “Those are the final seating arrangements. If you mix them up, your grandmother will scold us both!”
“Yes, Auntie,” Gao Tu replied softly, tightening his grip and quickening his steps.
The Gao family residence lay on the outskirts of Hangzhou, nestled between low hills and a gentle river. Traditional architecture blended seamlessly with modern renovations—curved eaves, carved wooden panels, and wide glass windows that let sunlight flood the halls.
Today, the entire place was alive.
His cousin Gao Min’s wedding preparations were in full swing. Workers moved in and out, carrying trays of decorations, floral arrangements, bolts of silk, and gift boxes. Red lanterns were being strung across the corridors, while a team of decorators discussed the placement of a massive backdrop embroidered with golden phoenixes and dragons.
The air buzzed with anticipation, excitement, and a little chaos.
And in the middle of it all stood Gao Tu.
At twenty-one, he was in his third year of university, majoring in literature and cultural studies. He was slender, fair-skinned, and gentle-looking, with soft features and clear eyes that always seemed a little shy. His hair was neatly tied back, a few strands escaping to frame his face, giving him an almost delicate charm.
Those who met him for the first time often thought he was fragile.
But those who knew him understood that beneath that softness lay resilience, kindness, and quiet strength.
“Tu’er, can you help your uncle check the guest list at the front gate?” his mother asked, stepping out of the hall with a clipboard in hand.
“Yes, Mama.”
Gao Tu smiled, bowing his head slightly before turning to go.
He did not complain and never did.
He had grown up knowing his role to help, to support, to give. Perhaps it came from being the youngest in the family, or perhaps from knowing that one day, he would leave this place to live with three men bound to him by an ancient promise.
A promise he had not seen in fifteen years.
Beijing.
The towering glass building of X Holdings pierced the gray winter sky, its sharp angles reflecting clouds and sunlight alike. At the very top floor, in a spacious office decorated with minimalist elegance, Hua Yong stood before the window, hands in his pockets, jaw clenched.
“They’re in Hangzhou,” Chang Yu reported calmly, holding a tablet. “The Gao family estate. Preparations for Gao Min’s wedding began yesterday. According to schedule, the wedding ceremony itself will be in three days.”
Hua Yong did not respond immediately.
Outside, the city bustled endlessly. Cars flowed like rivers of steel. People hurried across streets, chasing deadlines, dreams, and desires.
But none of it mattered. Because his mind was thousands of kilometers away, fixed on a single name.
Gao Tu.
“Book the flight,” Hua Yong said suddenly.
Chang Yu blinked. “Boss?”
“We’re going.”
“To Hangzhou?” Chang Yu asked carefully.
“Yes.” Hua Yong turned around, his sharp eyes gleaming. “Now.”
Chang Yu hesitated. “But the board meeting—”
“Postpone it.”
“The overseas investors—”
“Reschedule.”
Chang Yu sighed internally. He already knew resistance was useless. Whenever Gao Tu was involved, logic ceased to exist for these men.
“I’ll inform the other two CEOs,” he said, already tapping his screen.
Almost instantly, two replies came in.
Sheng Shaoyou: Finally.
Shen Wenlang: Prepare everything. We leave tonight.
In another skyscraper across the city, Sheng Shaoyou closed his laptop, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Chen Pinming,” he called.
“Yes, President Sheng.”
“Clear my schedule for the next four days. Cancel all meetings except emergencies.”
Chen Pinming paused. “Sir, the merger negotiation—”
“Let the vice president handle it.”
“…Understood.”
As Chen Pinming turned to leave, he could not help but steal a glance at his boss. The usually composed and indifferent Sheng Shaoyou now looked almost eager.
The corners of his eyes softened and his posture relaxed. It was the same expression he only ever wore when Gao Tu was mentioned.
Shen Wenlang stood in the underground parking garage, tying the cuff of his tailored suit. Evan waited nearby, holding a tablet.
“Everything is ready, President Shen,” Evan said. “Private jet scheduled to depart in two hours.”
“Good.”
Evan hesitated. “Sir… is it really necessary to attend the cousin’s wedding preparations personally?”
Shen Wenlang shot him a calm but piercing glance. “It’s not about the wedding.”
Evan immediately shut up.
Of course.
It was never about the wedding.
It was about the boy who had disappeared from their lives fifteen years ago, leaving behind nothing but fading memories and a promise sealed in red silk.
They had not seen him since the day they left for separate boarding schools abroad. At first, they wrote letters.
Long, careful letters, filled with childish drawings, awkward expressions of longing, and countless reassurances.
Tu’er, wait for us.
Baobei, study hard.
Bunny, don’t forget us.
And he wrote back.
Short letters, neat handwriting, shy words of concern and simple affection.
But as years passed, their lives grew heavier. Responsibilities piled up. The weight of family expectations pressed down on their shoulders. Letters became fewer. Phone calls shorter.
Until eventually, silence settled between them like an unspoken regret.
But the promise remained.
After Gao Tu finished university, he would come to live with them.
That was what the families had agreed upon and that was what they clung to.
And now, he was twenty-one.
So close.
So unbearably close.
The Gao family estate erupted in chaos the moment three black luxury cars rolled to a stop outside the front gates. Security froze and servants gasped.
Even the usually composed Gao family elders stared in disbelief. Because stepping out of those vehicles were three men whose names alone could shake the entire business world.
Hua Yong, CEO of X Holdings.
Sheng Shaoyou, CEO of Shengfang Corporation.
Shen Wenlang, CEO of HS Group.
The three giants of industry, all under thirty, all impossibly successful and all standing together in the Gao family courtyard.
“What—what are they doing here?” someone whispered.
“I thought they weren’t supposed to come until Gao Tu graduated?”
“Isn’t that still two years away?”
Even the Gao family patriarch, Gao Zhenhua, looked momentarily stunned before quickly regaining his composure.
“Welcome,” he said, stepping forward with a polite smile. “This is quite unexpected.”
Shen Wenlang inclined his head respectfully. “Grandfather Gao.”
Hua Yong grinned. “We were in the area and thought we’d drop by. Cousin’s wedding preparations must be busy.”
Sheng Shaoyou nodded calmly. “We hope we’re not intruding.”
Gao Zhenhua laughed. “Of course not. Please, come in.”
Behind him, however, the elders exchanged meaningful glances.
They knew.
All of them knew.
This had nothing to do with the wedding.
“Where is Gao Tu?”
The question hung in the air like a suppressed storm.
Aunt Liu nearly choked on her tea.
“He’s… busy,” she replied carefully. “Running errands, helping with preparations.”
“Call him,” Hua Yong said immediately.
“No.”
The single word, firm and decisive, came from Gao Zhenhua himself.
The three brothers turned. The old man’s eyes twinkled with barely concealed amusement. “You haven’t seen him in fifteen years. What’s the hurry? Let the child finish his work.”
“But—” Hua Yong began.
Shen Wenlang subtly held him back.
“We understand, Grandfather,” he said politely. “We’ll wait.”
The elders smiled knowingly.
They wanted to see it.
They wanted to see just how desperate these powerful men could become for the boy they had once promised their lives to.
And so, the waiting began. From the moment they stepped inside the estate, the brothers’ eyes searched every passing figure.
Every slender silhouette.
Every soft voice.
Every glimpse of pale fabric fluttering behind a doorway.
But Gao Tu remained elusive.
He was at the front gate, checking guest lists. Then in the main hall, helping arrange gifts and then in the back courtyard, supervising decorations and each time they asked, the answer was the same.
“He was just here.”
“He just left.”
“He’s busy.”
Hua Yong paced like a restless tiger, hands clenched.
“Are they doing this on purpose?” he muttered.
Sheng Shaoyou’s lips curved faintly. “Obviously.”
Shen Wenlang closed his eyes briefly. “They’re testing our patience.”
Hua Yong scoffed. “Then they’re playing a dangerous game.”
In the back courtyard, Gao Tu balanced on a small stool, carefully tying red ribbons to a bamboo arch.
“Careful, Tu’er,” his older cousin whispered. “Don’t fall.”
“I’m okay,” Gao Tu replied, fingers moving deftly.
He did not know.
He did not know that three men stood only a few courtyards away, their hearts pounding in unison.
He did not know that the brothers he had dreamed about in quiet moments were now within reach.
He only felt an inexplicable tightness in his chest, as if something important were about to happen.
Night fell slowly. Lanterns lit up one by one, bathing the estate in soft golden light.
The brothers sat in the main hall, surrounded by elders, relatives, and curious guests. Polite conversation flowed, tea was poured, snacks served.
But none of it reached them.
Their eyes remained fixed on the corridors.
On the doorways.
On every flutter of movement.
Finally, as exhaustion weighed on Gao Tu’s slender frame, his mother gently urged him toward the main hall.
“Go greet your uncles and elders,” she said softly. “You’ve worked enough for today.”
Gao Tu nodded, wiping his hands on a handkerchief before smoothing his clothes.
He took a breath and stepped inside.
Three pairs of eyes locked onto him at the exact same moment.
Time seemed to stop.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then—
“Tu’er.”
The whisper fell from Shen Wenlang’s lips like a prayer.
Gao Tu froze.
That voice.
Deep. Familiar. Gentle.
His heart skipped violently.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze.
And met three pairs of eyes filled with longing, tenderness, and an emotion so intense it stole his breath away.
“H-Hua ge… Shaoyou ge… Wenlang ge…?” he whispered, disbelief flooding his features.
Hua Yong was on his feet in an instant.
Before anyone could stop him, he crossed the hall in three long strides and pulled Gao Tu into his arms.
“You’re real,” he murmured fiercely, burying his face in the boy’s hair. “You’re really here.”
Gao Tu trembled, stunned, his hands hovering awkwardly before hesitantly clutching the front of Hua Yong’s coat.
“Yong ge…”
Sheng Shaoyou and Shen Wenlang approached, their movements slower, reverent.
Sheng Shaoyou cupped Gao Tu’s cheek gently. “You’ve grown.”
Shen Wenlang brushed a thumb beneath his eye. “And you’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”
Gao Tu’s face flushed crimson.
The hall erupted in soft laughter, murmurs, and fond sighs.
The elders exchanged satisfied glances.
They had waited long enough.
The promise sealed in red silk had finally begun to unfold.
And this—
This was only the beginning.
For a brief moment, the world narrowed down to nothing but warmth, heartbeat, and the faint scent of sandalwood clinging to Hua Yong’s coat.
Gao Tu stood frozen in his arms, mind completely blank. He had imagined this reunion countless times, sometimes in dreams, sometimes during lonely nights when the dormitory lights were already off, and he lay staring at the ceiling, clutching old memories like fragile glass.
But imagination could never compare to reality.
Hua Yong was no longer the mischievous boy who used to steal sweets and stuff them into his pockets for Gao Tu. He was taller, broader, his shoulders firm, his chest solid. The playful sharpness in his eyes had matured into confidence and authority, yet the warmth behind them remained unchanged.
Still the same.
Still his Yong-ge.
“Enough,” Shen Wenlang said quietly, though there was amusement in his voice. “You’re crushing him.”
Hua Yong reluctantly loosened his grip, but his hands remained firmly on Gao Tu’s shoulders, as if afraid he might vanish the moment he let go.
“Look at you,” he said softly, scanning Gao Tu from head to toe. “You’re so thin. Are they feeding you properly?”
“I—I eat well,” Gao Tu stammered, face burning. “Mama cooks every day.”
Sheng Shaoyou chuckled. “Then why do you look like a breeze could carry you away?”
Gao Tu lowered his head shyly. “Shaoyou-ge is teasing me again.”
That single sentence struck straight into their hearts.
Again.
He remembered.
He still remembered how Sheng Shaoyou used to lightly flick his forehead, teasing him gently whenever he grew too shy.
A surge of emotion rushed through the three brothers. The fifteen years of longing, restraint, and self-control threatened to burst apart.
Gao Zhenhua cleared his throat loudly.
The spell broke.
“Sit,” the old man said, smiling faintly. “All of you. You can stare later.”
Reluctantly, the brothers sat down, pulling Gao Tu along to sit between them. Immediately, he felt the warmth of their bodies on both sides, Hua Yong to his left, Sheng Shaoyou to his right, with Shen Wenlang directly across from him, gaze unwavering.
His heart thumped wildly.
He felt like a small animal surrounded by three powerful predators except these predators looked at him with nothing but tenderness.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Gao Tu asked softly, twisting the edge of his sleeve.
Hua Yong snorted. “If we told you, you’d have hidden.”
“I wouldn’t!” Gao Tu protested weakly.
Shen Wenlang raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Gao Tu hesitated.
“…Maybe a little.”
All three laughed. The sound was deep, rich, and genuine, filling the hall with warmth.
The elders exchanged knowing glances.
They had worried, once, that fifteen years of separation would make things awkward.
Now, it was clear, the bond had never broken.
That night, the Gao family insisted the brothers stay.
Rooms were prepared in the main guest wing, lavish and spacious. Yet despite the comfort, none of them felt even slightly tired.
They gathered in the moonlit courtyard after dinner, sitting around a low stone table with tea and fruit.
Gao Tu sat quietly between them, listening as they talked about business, international markets, and corporate expansions. Much of it went over his head, but he liked hearing their voices. It grounded him and made him feel safe.
“So,” Hua Yong said casually, leaning back, eyes fixed on Gao Tu, “how’s university?”
Gao Tu brightened a little. “It’s good. My professors are kind, and I joined the literature club.”
“You write?” Sheng Shaoyou asked.
“A little,” Gao Tu admitted. “Short stories, mostly.”
Shen Wenlang smiled. “I want to read them.”
Gao Tu’s ears turned red instantly. “They’re not very good.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Hua Yong said. “Anything you write, we want.”
The casual possessiveness in his tone made Gao Tu’s heart flutter.
“Do you… miss us?” Sheng Shaoyou asked suddenly, voice low.
Silence fell.
Gao Tu hesitated, fingers tightening around his teacup.
“…Yes,” he whispered. “Very much.”
Three hearts clenched at once.
“Why didn’t you contact us more?” Hua Yong asked quietly.
Gao Tu lowered his head. “You were busy. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Shen Wenlang closed his eyes briefly.
If he could go back, he would tear apart those endless meetings, those merciless schedules, and fly to Gao Tu’s side no matter the cost.
“You’re never a disturbance,” Shen Wenlang said firmly. “Never.”
Gao Tu nodded, eyes misty.
Late at night, long after everyone else had gone to sleep, Hua Yong still stood by the window of his room, staring at the courtyard where Gao Tu had disappeared earlier. Sheng Shaoyou leaned against the doorframe. “You’re thinking of taking him with us, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“He still has two years of university.”
“I can wait,” Hua Yong said. “But I won’t let him out of my sight again.”
Shen Wenlang stepped in, his expression unreadable. “Neither will I.”
A silent agreement settled between them.
This time, they would not lose him.
Not again.
Morning arrived with soft sunlight and the scent of steamed buns.
Gao Tu had barely stepped out of his room when he was ambushed.
Three tall figures blocked his path.
“Morning, Tutu,” Hua Yong said cheerfully.
Gao Tu blinked. “Yong-ge… good morning.”
Sheng Shaoyou handed him a warm cup of soy milk. “Drink.”
Shen Wenlang placed a shawl around his shoulders. “It’s cold.”
Gao Tu stared at them, flustered. “I—I’m not a child…”
Hua Yong smirked. “You are to us.”
And just like that, Gao Tu found himself escorted to breakfast, seated between them, served dishes before he could even lift a finger.
Relatives watched in amusement.
Whispers spread rapidly.
“So that’s Gao Tu…”
“No wonder the three CEOs are obsessed.”
“Look how carefully they treat him.”
Gao Tu felt his cheeks burning nonstop.
As the day progressed, the wedding preparations intensified and so did the brothers’ frustration, every time they tried to keep Gao Tu by their side, he was called away.
“Tu’er, help check the floral arrangements!”
“Tu’er, the guest rooms need inspection!”
“Tu’er, come calculate the seating plan!”
Hua Yong’s patience wore thinner with each interruption.
By afternoon, he finally snapped.
“Enough. He’s exhausted.”
Gao Zhenhua raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And you are?”
“His husband.”
The words fell heavy.
The courtyard went silent.
Gao Tu nearly fainted.
Sheng Shaoyou coughed lightly, while Shen Wenlang calmly added, “One of them.”
The elders burst into laughter.
“Alright, alright,” Gao Zhenhua waved a hand. “Take him. Let the child rest.”
Hua Yong wasted no time.
“No buts,” Hua Yong said firmly, lifting him to his feet. “Come.”
Before Gao Tu could react, he was guided toward a quiet side corridor.
“Wait—people need me—”
“They can survive without you for half an hour,” Sheng Shaoyou said calmly.
They led him into a secluded pavilion, hidden behind flowering shrubs and trailing vines. Inside, a small table was set with tea and snacks.
“Sit,” Shen Wenlang instructed gently.
Gao Tu obeyed, a little dazed.
Hua Yong poured him tea. “Drink.”
Sheng Shaoyou pushed a plate of pastries toward him. “Eat.”
Gao Tu stared at them helplessly. “…You’re treating me like a child again.”
Hua Yong smirked. “You’ve always been our child.”
Gao Tu’s face burned red.
But he ate.
And drank.
And slowly, warmth returned to his tired limbs.
For a few precious minutes, the noise of the wedding faded into distant echoes and it felt like their own private world.
That night, Gao Tu lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Everything felt unreal and the brothers were here and they were warm and also they were gentle.
And they still looked at him the same way they had when he was a child, as if he were their entire world. His heart pounded at the thought. The promise sealed in red silk and the marriage that existed only in name.
And the life waiting beyond university. Slowly, Gao Tu turned on his side, hugging his pillow, a shy smile curved on his lips.
For the first time, he allowed himself to imagine the future.
A future where he would no longer be alone.
A future where he belonged.
And somewhere in the quiet estate, three powerful men stared into the same night sky, hearts echoing the same thought, this time, we will never let you go.
The morning of the wedding dawned beneath a pale winter sun.
Thin mist clung to the tiled roofs of the Gao family estate, drifting lazily between corridors and courtyards. Red lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, their tassels whispering soft prayers for happiness and longevity. Everywhere, the color red bloomed—on door frames, window panes, silk drapes, and embroidered banners.
Joy filled the air snd chaos.
Servants hurried from one place to another, calling out instructions, carrying trays of tea, sweets, ceremonial wine, and floral arrangements. The fragrance of incense mixed with the scent of fresh flowers and warm pastries. Laughter, chatter, and hurried footsteps blended into a lively symphony.
It was the wedding day.
From the moment the sky lightened, everyone was already on their feet including Gao Tu.
He stood in the side hall, holding a list, carefully checking off names as guests arrived. His soft voice gave directions, his gentle smile never fading despite the growing fatigue in his eyes.
“Second Aunt, your seats are inside the main hall, second row.”
“Uncle Zhang, welcome. Please go to the east courtyard for tea.”
“Ah, Cousin Li, congratulations for arriving early.”
His calm and polite demeanor soothed the chaos around him, making him a natural center of coordination.
Yet every few minutes, someone tried to pull him away.
“Tu’er, help with the bridal room!”
“Tu’er, the musicians are asking about the schedule!”
“Tu’er—”
Before any of them could reach him, three tall figures would step in.
“He’s busy.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“Let him rest.”
Hua Yong, Sheng Shaoyou, and Shen Wenlang moved through the crowd with effortless authority, intercepting tasks, redirecting staff, and quietly shielding Gao Tu from exhaustion.
Despite their status as guests, they were just as busy as the Gao family themselves.
Hua Yong stood at the front gate, personally overseeing security arrangements and guest flow, his sharp eyes scanning every detail. Sheng Shaoyou coordinated logistics with the event planners, ensuring every step ran smoothly. Shen Wenlang handled external affairs—media management, corporate guests, and last-minute changes.
Each of them worked relentlessly.
But their eyes never strayed far from Gao Tu.
“Drink this.”
A warm thermos was suddenly pressed into Gao Tu’s hands. He looked up, startled, to find Sheng Shaoyou standing before him.
“It’s honey water,” Sheng Shaoyou said softly. “You’ve been talking nonstop.”
“Thank you, Shaoyou-ge,” Gao Tu replied obediently, taking small sips.
Before he could finish, a neatly folded handkerchief appeared in front of him. “Your forehead is sweaty,” Shen Wenlang said gently and just as Gao Tu opened his mouth to protest, Hua Yong draped a thin shawl around his shoulders.
“It’s windy. Don’t catch a cold.”
Gao Tu’s ears turned red.
People nearby tried very hard not to stare but it was impossible.
Three legendary CEOs fussing over one soft-spoken university student and anyone with eyes could see how deeply cherished he was.
“President Hua, the groom’s family has arrived,” Chang Yu reported quietly.
Hua Yong nodded. “I’ll handle it.”
Turning to Gao Tu, he added, “Stay here. Don’t run around.”
“I won’t,” Gao Tu promised.
But five minutes later, his aunt dragged him away again to help adjust the bride’s veil. The brothers arrived moments later, only to find empty air.
Hua Yong clenched his jaw. “They did this on purpose.”
Sheng Shaoyou sighed. “Let him help. Today is important.”
Shen Wenlang glanced toward the bridal room, eyes dark with restrained emotion. “After today, no one gets to take him from us again.”
By noon, the wedding ceremony officially began. Firecrackers thundered at the gates, echoing through the valley. Drums and traditional instruments filled the air, lively and festive. Guests took their seats, rows upon rows filling the grand hall.
Gao Tu stood quietly to one side, watching as his cousin, dressed in magnificent red and gold, stepped into the hall with her groom.
His heart swelled with warmth.
Marriage.
Union.
A promise of a lifetime.
He felt both happiness and a strange, soft ache.
As the ceremony progressed—three bows, cups of ceremonial wine, blessings from elders.
Gao Tu’s thoughts drifted to fifteen years ago, he too had stood in ceremonial red. Small hands folded, small heart pounding. Three boys before him, solemn and serious. He had not understood the meaning of vows.
But today…
He did.
“Tu’er.”
The soft call startled him.
He turned to find Shen Wenlang standing beside him, eyes gentle.
“Come with us,” Shen Wenlang said quietly.
Before Gao Tu could ask, Sheng Shaoyou and Hua Yong appeared as well, subtly forming a shield around him.
They guided him away from the bustling hall, down a narrow stone path lined with blooming winter jasmine, toward a secluded courtyard rarely used.
The sounds of celebration gradually faded, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the distant echo of music.
The courtyard was small and peaceful.
Red lanterns hung from a single wooden beam, casting warm light upon the stone floor. A simple altar stood beneath a plum tree, adorned with candles, incense, and a pair of red silk ribbons.
Gao Tu’s breath caught.
“What… is this?” he whispered.
Hua Yong closed the wooden gate behind them. Sheng Shaoyou stepped forward, lighting the candles. Shen Wenlang placed incense into Gao Tu’s hands.
“Today,” Shen Wenlang said softly, “we want to make our promise again.”
Gao Tu’s heart slammed violently against his ribs.
“We were too young to understand back then,” Sheng Shaoyou added. “But now, we're grown.”
“And we want you to choose us,” Hua Yong said, his voice unusually serious.
The world seemed to tilt.
Gao Tu stared at them, eyes wide and trembling.
“I…”
Shen Wenlang gently took his hands. “We will never force you. This vow is yours to accept or refuse.”
The sincerity in his gaze made Gao Tu’s throat tighten.
Fifteen years.
Fifteen years of waiting, protecting, restraining, longing.
How could he ever refuse?
“I choose you,” Gao Tu whispered, tears welling. “All of you.”
The moment the words left his lips, something inside the three men shattered.
Reverently, they guided him to stand before the altar.
They lit incense together.
Then, side by side, they bowed.
Once—to heaven and earth.
Twice—to their families and ancestors.
Thrice—to each other.
Their foreheads touched the cold stone floor, a silent vow echoing through the stillness.
Shen Wenlang spoke, his voice low and solemn.
“Today, under heaven and earth, beneath red silk and lantern light, I, Shen Wenlang, vow to cherish Gao Tu, protect him, honor him, and love him for all my life. Through wealth and hardship, joy and sorrow, I will never abandon him. This vow, I give with my heart and soul.”
Sheng Shaoyou followed.
“I, Sheng Shaoyou, vow to stand by Gao Tu’s side, to shelter him from harm, to give him comfort, devotion, and unwavering loyalty. I will treasure him above all else, now and always.”
Hua Yong’s voice trembled slightly, but his gaze was fierce.
“I, Hua Yong, vow to love Gao Tu with everything I have. I will protect his smile, guard his dreams, and never let him face the world alone. From this moment on, his happiness is my purpose.”
Gao Tu’s vision blurred.
Tears welled in his eyes, slipping free before he could stop them.
His throat tightened.
When he finally spoke, his voice shook.
“I, Gao Tu, vow to stay by your sides, to trust you, rely on you, and give you my heart. I may not be strong or powerful, but I will love you sincerely, with all that I am.”
Hua Yong stepped forward, gently wiping them away.
“Don’t cry, baobei,” he murmured.
Then, without hesitation, he leaned down—
And kissed him.
Soft.
Careful.
A feather-light touch that barely brushed Gao Tu’s lips.
Yet it sent a shock through his entire body, his breath hitched and his fingers curled into Hua Yong’s sleeves. Before he could recover, Sheng Shaoyou bent down, pressing a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth then Shen Wenlang, his touch warm and lingering, kissed him gently, reverently.
Three kisses.
Different.
Yet equally full of devotion.
Gao Tu stood frozen, face crimson, heart racing wildly.
“This is my first kiss!!”
Hua Yong chuckled softly, resting his forehead against Gao Tu’s. “That was our first too.”
Sheng Shaoyou smiled. “There will be many more.”
Shen Wenlang wrapped an arm around his waist. “But we’ll take it slow.”
Gao Tu nodded shyly, his heart overflowing.
Outside, firecrackers thundered once more, celebrating another union.
But within that quiet courtyard, a far deeper promise had just been renewed.
A promise sealed not only by tradition but by love.
That night, under endless lantern light and drifting snow, Gao Tu walked between them through the crowded halls, his fingers subtly entwined with theirs.
The wedding banquet lasted deep into the night.
Crystal chandeliers bathed the grand hall in warm light, reflecting off golden embroidery and polished porcelain. Laughter rang through the air, mingled with music, clinking glasses, and joyful chatter. Outside, firecrackers continued to explode in brilliant bursts of red and gold, celebrating the union of two families.
Yet for Gao Tu, the world felt strangely distant, his lips still tingled faintly and his heart had not slowed since that quiet courtyard.
Every time he lifted his gaze, he met one of their eyes—soft, intense, protective. Hua Yong would casually place a hand at his lower back, guiding him through the crowd. Sheng Shaoyou would silently move guests aside, creating space around him. Shen Wenlang would always walk half a step behind, watching everything.
He was wrapped in their presence like a cocoon.
“Tu’er, eat,” Hua Yong whispered, placing a piece of braised fish into his bowl.
Gao Tu startled. “I can do it myself…”
“And we can feed you,” Sheng Shaoyou added calmly, adding vegetables.
Shen Wenlang poured him warm soup. “You’ve barely eaten all day.”
Gao Tu’s ears burned. “Everyone is watching…”
“So?” Hua Yong smirked. “Let them.”
Around them, relatives and guests pretended not to stare while absolutely staring.
The rumors had already exploded.
A child marriage turned real.
It was enough to fuel gossip for years.
But none of that mattered to the brothers.
All that mattered was that Gao Tu ate properly, stayed warm, and didn’t overexert himself.
By the time the banquet ended, exhaustion finally crept into Gao Tu’s bones.
His steps slowed, eyelids drooping despite his efforts to stay alert.
Shen Wenlang noticed immediately.
“Enough,” he said softly. “He’s exhausted.”
Hua Yong frowned. “They worked him too hard.”
Sheng Shaoyou looked at Gao Tu, whose cheeks were flushed with fatigue. “Let’s take him back.”
Without waiting for objections, Hua Yong scooped Gao Tu up. “Y-Yong-ge!” Gao Tu gasped, instinctively clutching his collar.
“Sleep,” Hua Yong said simply. “You’re too tired to argue.”
Gao Tu’s protests dissolved instantly under the warmth and security of strong arms.
He hesitated only a moment before resting his head against Hua Yong’s shoulder.
The hall went dead silent and then erupted in low laughter and whispers.
The elders exchanged amused glances. “Let them,” Gao Zhenhua said, sipping his tea calmly. “It’s his place.”
Hua Yong carried Gao Tu into his room, a spacious suite prepared for the brothers. Silk curtains fluttered gently by the window, and the bed was covered in fresh crimson sheets embroidered with golden peonies .Sheng Shaoyou and Shen Wenlang already gone after seeing gao tu sleeping comfortable on hua yong's arms.
He carefully helped Gao Tu lie down, then slipped in beside him, keeping a respectful distance at first, as if worried about making him uncomfortable.
The bed felt warmer instantly, for a few moments, they lay in silence, listening to each other’s breathing. “You used to cling to my sleeve when you slept,” Hua Yong murmured suddenly, voice low with nostalgia. “If I moved even a little, you’d wake up.”
Gao Tu flushed faintly. “I did?”
“Mm. You said my heartbeat made you feel safe.”
The memory made Hua Yong smile. Gao Tu hesitated, then slowly shifted closer, his fingers lightly catching the edge of Hua Yong’s sleeve, just like before. Hua Yong’s chest tightened.
He gently wrapped an arm around Gao Tu’s shoulders, pulling him into a careful embrace,“Like this?” he whispered.
Gao Tu nodded, resting his head against Hua Yong’s chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat filled his ears.
Strong.
Calm.
Reliable.
Just as he remembered. Hua Yong lowered his chin, pressing a soft kiss into Gao Tu’s hair.
“Sleep,” he murmured. “I’m here.”
Gao Tu’s tense body slowly relaxed. The day’s emotions finally caught up to him, and his eyelids grew heavy.
“Yong-ge…” he whispered faintly.
“Mm?”
“I’m glad… you came back.”
Hua Yong closed his eyes, holding him a little tighter.
“I’m never leaving again.”
And with that promise wrapping around him like a protective shield, Gao Tu drifted into sleep.
The night deepened.
Moonlight slipped through the window, painting silver patterns across tangled blankets and quiet breathing.
Hua Yong remained awake long after Gao Tu had fallen asleep. He watched the peaceful rise and fall of Gao Tu’s chest, memorizing every detail, the soft curve of his lashes, the faint crease between his brows, the gentle warmth of his body against his own.
Fifteen years.
He had waited fifteen years for this simple moment.
Not power.
Not wealth.
Not control.
Just this.
Holding the person he loved, safe and warm in his arms.
Carefully, he adjusted the blanket around Gao Tu’s shoulders and pressed one more gentle kiss to his forehead.
“Good night, baobei.”
And for the first time in many years, Hua Yong slept without dreams because everything he had ever longed for was already in his embrace.
---
Soft sunlight spilled through the half-open curtains, brushing gently across the quiet room. The world outside was still, as if even time itself had slowed, unwilling to disturb the fragile peace within.
Gao Tu stirred. At first, he remained half-asleep, his mind hazy, wrapped in warmth and safety. Something solid and comforting held him close, steady and familiar. A calm heartbeat echoed beneath his ear, slow and reassuring.
For a few seconds, he simply lay there, savoring the feeling.
Then memories returned in a rush.
The wedding.
The vows.
The kisses.
Hua Yong.
His eyes fluttered open.
And he found himself cradled in Hua Yong’s arms, their bodies naturally curled toward one another. Hua Yong’s arm rested securely around his waist, his chin lightly touching the top of Gao Tu’s head.
His sleeping expression was softer than Gao Tu had ever seen. Gone was the sharp, commanding presence of a CEO. Gone was the confident smirk.
What remained was peaceful vulnerability.
Gao Tu’s heart tightened.
Slowly, carefully, he lifted his head just enough to look at Hua Yong’s face. The strong lines of his jaw, the long lashes resting against his cheeks, the faint crease between his brows even in sleep, he looked protective, as though guarding something precious.
Guarding him.
A strange warmth bloomed in Gao Tu’s chest. Before he could overthink it, before shyness could stop him, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Hua Yong’s lips.
It was light.
Barely a brush.
A timid, hesitant touch.
But it carried all the emotions he couldn’t yet put into words.
Gratitude.
Trust.
Affection.
Love, quietly awakening.
Hua Yong stirred and his brows twitched slightly, then his eyes opened.
For a brief moment, he was disoriented.
And then he saw Gao Tu.
So close.
So warm.
So real.
Their gazes locked and time stilled.
“…Morning, baobei,” Hua Yong murmured, voice rough with sleep.
Gao Tu’s face instantly flushed red. “G-Good morning, Yong-ge…”
A slow, disbelieving smile curved on Hua Yong’s lips.
“Did you just…” he paused, eyes darkening gently, “…kiss me?”
Gao Tu’s ears burned. He tried to retreat, but Hua Yong’s arm tightened around his waist, preventing escape.
“I— I just—” Gao Tu stammered, too flustered to finish.
Hua Yong laughed softly, a low sound filled with warmth.
“Come here.”
He leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against Gao Tu’s.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?”
“For choosing us,” Hua Yong said simply.
Gao Tu’s heart skipped.
Their eyes met again, and this time, there was no hesitation.
Hua Yong leaned down and kissed him.
Slow.
Gentle.
Unhurried.
A morning kiss, soft as sunlight.
Gao Tu’s fingers curled lightly into Hua Yong’s shirt, instinctively holding on.
When they finally parted, both were slightly breathless.
Gao Tu hid his face in Hua Yong’s chest, too shy to look up. Hua Yong chuckled, rubbing his back soothingly.
“Still shy after everything we did yesterday?”
Gao Tu mumbled, “It’s different…”
“How?”
“Yesterday… was a promise,” Gao Tu said softly. “This feels… real.”
Hua Yong’s chest tightened.
He lifted Gao Tu’s chin, meeting his gaze with rare seriousness.
“It is real.”
Then, softer,“And it always will be.”
Outside, the estate slowly began to wake.
Footsteps echoed faintly. Servants murmured. Morning preparations resumed.
But inside the quiet room, wrapped in warmth and golden light, Gao Tu felt a sense of peace he had never known before.
For the first time, he wasn’t just waiting for the future because he was living in it and somewhere nearby, two other men stood outside the door, listening to the soft sounds within, exchanging helpless smiles.
“Looks like we’re late,” Sheng Shaoyou murmured.
Shen Wenlang crossed his arms calmly. “Let him have this morning.”
Their eyes softened.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew and blooming winter flowers.
Gao Tu finally emerged from Hua Yong’s room with slightly flushed cheeks and a soft, lingering warmth in his eyes.
They left the room together.
The moment they stepped into the corridor, they were immediately met by two familiar figures.
Sheng Shaoyou leaned casually against the wooden pillar, arms crossed, eyes gentle and amused. Shen Wenlang stood beside him, composed and elegant, holding a cup of warm tea. Their gazes slid slowly from Gao Tu’s faintly reddened lips to the way his clothes sat just a little rumpled.
Both men instantly understood.
Hua Yong stepped out behind him, expression unapologetically satisfied.
Shen Wenlang raised an eyebrow. “Looks like someone slept very well.”
“…You slept well?” Sheng Shaoyou asked mildly.
Gao Tu’s face instantly turned red.
“Y-Yes…”
Hua Yong stepped forward, placing himself subtly in front of Gao Tu. “Don’t glare at him.”
Sheng Shaoyou clicked his tongue. “We’re not.”
Shen Wenlang’s lips curved faintly. “We’re jealous.”
Hua Yong snorted. “Get in line.”
Sheng Shaoyou raised an eyebrow. “You’re bold.”
“I’ve waited fifteen years,” Hua Yong replied coolly. “Being bold is my right.”
Gao Tu stared at the ground, wishing he could melt into it. Shen Wenlang sighed softly, stepping forward and gently adjusting Gao Tu’s collar. “Did you sleep well, Tutu?”
Gao Tu nodded shyly. “Mm.”
“Good,” Sheng Shaoyou added, ruffling his hair lightly. “We were worried you’d be nervous.”
“…I was,” Gao Tu admitted honestly. “But Yong-ge was very gentle.”
That single sentence sent three entirely different emotions surging through the brothers.
Pride.
Relief.
And an overwhelming tenderness.
Breakfast was lively.
The Gao family elders pretended not to notice how Gao Tu sat between the three brothers, being constantly served food, refilled tea, and gently reminded to eat slowly.
“Tu’er, try this.”
“More vegetables.”
“Drink some soup.”
Gao Tu barely had time to lift his chopsticks before his bowl was full. His grandmother watched the scene with an unreadable smile.
After breakfast, Gao Tu was finally allowed a break. The three brothers took him out into the quiet back garden, where winter plum blossoms were in full bloom.
Petals drifted softly through the air, landing in Gao Tu’s hair.
Hua Yong reached up and gently plucked one out, tucking it behind his ear.
“You look good in red,” he said softly. “But you look even better like this.”
Gao Tu blinked. “Like what?”
“Like you belong to us.”
Gao Tu lowered his head shyly.
A gentle silence settled.
That afternoon, the estate slowly returned to calm. Guests departed, decorations were removed, and the lively noise faded into soft echoes.
Gao Tu sat in his room, organizing leftover wedding gifts. A gentle knock came.
Before he could answer, the door opened, and his cousin Gao Min stepped inside.
She studied him for a moment before smiling knowingly.
“So,” she said softly, “the rumors are true.”
Gao Tu’s face warmed. “Jiejie…”
“You’re very lucky,” Gao Min said sincerely. “The way they look at you… any fool can see how deeply they love you.”
Gao Tu lowered his gaze, heart fluttering.
“I hope you’ll be happy,” she added gently.
“I am,” Gao Tu whispered.
And he truly was.
Next morning
The sound of rolling suitcases echoed softly across the stone path.
Morning mist still clung to the air, wrapping the Gao family estate in a thin veil of white. The sky was pale, neither fully bright nor dark, caught in that quiet space between night and day.
It was time for them to leave.
Gao Tu stood at the front gate, fingers tightly curled around the strap of his small shoulder bag. He had woken up before dawn, unable to sleep, and had waited in silence as the servants prepared breakfast and the drivers readied the cars.
Now, the moment he had been dreading was here.
Hua Yong stood in front of him, tall and unwavering, his usual confident expression softened by reluctance. Sheng Shaoyou adjusted his watch absentmindedly, while Shen Wenlang spoke quietly with Evan a few steps away.
But all three of them kept glancing back at Gao Tu.
As if afraid that if they looked away for even a second, he might disappear.
“You don’t need to come out so early,” Hua Yong said gently, pulling Gao Tu closer by the wrist. “It’s cold.”
“I wanted to see you off,” Gao Tu replied softly.
Sheng Shaoyou sighed lightly. “If you keep looking at us like that, I might cancel everything and stay.”
Gao Tu’s eyes widened. “You can’t do that.”
“I know,” Sheng Shaoyou smiled. “But it’s tempting.”
Shen Wenlang walked over, placing a thin scarf around Gao Tu’s neck, carefully adjusting it. “Call us when you wake up. And before you sleep.”
“And during the day,” Hua Yong added quickly.
“And whenever you miss us,” Sheng Shaoyou finished.
Gao Tu nodded obediently. “I will.”
A brief silence fell.
None of them wanted to be the first to step back.
Finally, Hua Yong pulled Gao Tu into a firm embrace, resting his chin on the top of his head.
“Wait for us,” he murmured. “We’ll come get you soon.”
“I will,” Gao Tu whispered.
Sheng Shaoyou wrapped his arms around both of them, holding them close. Shen Wenlang joined a second later, enclosing Gao Tu in a warm circle.
For a moment, the world faded away.
Then, reluctantly, they let go.
Hua Yong brushed a gentle kiss against Gao Tu’s forehead. Sheng Shaoyou squeezed his hand. Shen Wenlang met his eyes, a promise shining clearly within them.
The car doors opened.
The engines started.
And just like that, they were gone.
Gao Tu remained standing at the gate long after the black cars disappeared beyond the bend in the road.
His chest felt tight but not hollow because now, separation did not mean uncertainty.
It meant waiting for something precious.
Beijing — The Return
The moment their jet touched down, reality rushed back in.
Phones began ringing. Messages flooded in. Schedules, contracts, board meetings, and emergency negotiations waited for no one.
Yet even as they stepped into their separate cars, their thoughts remained fixed on a single person.
“Did he eat breakfast?” Hua Yong asked Chang Yu abruptly.
“…Yes, boss,” Chang Yu replied, already accustomed to such questions.
“Send him the photo I took of the sunrise,” Sheng Shaoyou told Chen Pinming.
Evan glanced at Shen Wenlang’s phone screen, where a message already waited: Have you arrived back inside? Is it warm?
The three of them returned to their towering offices, slipping back into their roles as ruthless executives with effortless precision.
Meetings resumed.
Documents piled up.
Decisions worth billions were made in minutes.
Yet, every pause between tasks, their fingers reached for their phones.
Gao Tu’s Days
Back in Hangzhou, life slowly returned to normal.
Classes resumed, assignments piled up, club activities continued but everything felt subtly different.
Every morning, Gao Tu woke up to three good morning messages.
Every night, he fell asleep after hearing their voices.
When lectures became dull, a simple Are you tired? would appear on his screen.
When he studied late into the night, warm reminders followed:
Don’t forget to rest.
Drink water.
We’re proud of you.
His roommates quickly noticed the change.
“Gao Tu, you’ve been smiling at your phone nonstop,” one teased.
Gao Tu’s face heated instantly. “It’s nothing.”
But his heart fluttered all the same.
Late-Night Call
One evening, after finishing a particularly exhausting study session, Gao Tu returned to his dorm room and collapsed onto his bed, before he could even change clothes, his phone rang.
It was a video call.
Three faces appeared on the screen.
“Tu’er,” Hua Yong said immediately. “You look tired.”
Sheng Shaoyou frowned. “Did you skip dinner again?”
Shen Wenlang adjusted his glasses slightly. “Show us your desk.”
Gao Tu sighed, turning the camera. “I ate. I promise.”
Their expressions softened.
“Come here,” Hua Yong said gently.
Gao Tu tilted his head. “Come where?”
“Closer to the screen.”
Smiling shyly, Gao Tu leaned in.
Three soft voices spoke almost at once.
“Good night, baobei.”
“Sleep well, bunny.”
“Dream of us.”
His heart melted.
“Good night,” Gao Tu whispered.
And in the quiet darkness of his dorm room, he slept with a smile.
That same night, in three different penthouses overlooking the Beijing skyline, three powerful men stood by their windows, staring into the glowing city.
Work never truly ended.
Responsibility never truly slept.
But neither did their longing.
“Soon,” Hua Yong murmured to the empty room.
“Very soon,” Sheng Shaoyou agreed quietly.
Shen Wenlang closed his eyes.
Because no matter how far they went, every road now led back to Gao Tu.