In the early hours, the empty villa was silent, not a single light on. The dim living room was pitch black, so dark that one couldn’t see a hand before their eyes.
Outside, a sudden downpour rattled the glass. A bolt of lightning split the night sky, streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the living room as if it were broad daylight.
Yan Yi curled up in a corner of the sofa, clutching a down comforter. His little rabbit ears were hidden under the hood, and his nose twitched with the chill.
The circuit breaker had tripped, but Yan Yi didn’t dare fix it.
He hugged the comforter tightly, longing for dawn. Once morning came, he would repair the electricity.
Suddenly, a soft sound of a door opening reached him. Lu Shangjin tossed his umbrella aside and impatiently yanked off his soaked coat, throwing it onto the table. “Why isn’t the light on?”
Feeling around in the dark, unable to see, he had to turn on his phone flashlight.
Yan Yi, clutching the comforter, ran over barefoot like he’d found his savior, his pale, clear eyes wide as he looked at him.
“The thunderstorm was too strong… the breaker tripped,” he whispered.
“Alright, get someone to fix it tomorrow… never mind, I’ll do it since you’re off tomorrow.” Lu Shangjin headed to the bathroom to change his wet shirt. Yan Yi followed, comforter in arms, standing barefoot outside the door.
He had held back for a long time, finally setting the comforter down and stepping into the bathroom, wrapping his arms lightly around Lu Shangjin’s waist from behind, pressing close, his body trembling slightly.
Lu Shangjin paused mid-motion, shook water from his hands, then turned to hug him back, patting his spine gently.
The little rabbit loved it, pressing his entire body into Lu Shangjin’s embrace.
“Do you have skin hunger, Yan Yan?” Lu Shangjin gently patted him. “You’re nineteen now—not a baby rabbit anymore.”
Yan Yi buried his head and fuzzy ears in Lu Shangjin’s chest, trembling as he said, “I have skin hunger. I’m a baby rabbit.”
“Alright, baby.” Lu Shangjin kissed the tip of his nose in the dark bathroom and carried him into the shower. “Shower and sleep.”
The bathroom had backup power, lighting a dim wall lamp.
Yan Yi wore a transparent shower cap to protect his ears from water and sat in the square bathtub, leaning back against Lu Shangjin’s chest, tilting his head in complaint. “You should’ve come home earlier in this storm.”
“Alright.” Lu Shangjin dropped a chunk of bath salt into the water, his palms gliding over Yan Yi’s smooth skin, occasionally passing over scars from gunshot wounds.
He turned Yan Yi over, pressing him against the tub edge, supporting his neck from behind, and tilted his head to kiss him. “Do you want to do it here? You might be uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine. I want you,” Yan Yi wagged his little tail toward Lu Shangjin in invitation.
After lingering in the bath for over two hours, Lu Shangjin finally carried the little rabbit back to the bedroom, drying him.
Sleeping in this warm embrace had been Yan Yi’s greatest joy since childhood. The first and only one to give him such warmth was Lu Shangjin. That warmth had filled his childhood, taken root in his youth, and bloomed at seventeen.
——
That afternoon, he awoke in the warm embrace, the gentle breeze brushing the fur on his ears.
Lu Shangjin’s hand rested on the headboard, scrolling through files on his phone, one arm still holding Yan Yi close.
“You’re awake.” Lu Shangjin set the phone aside, cupping Yan Yi’s cheek to kiss his forehead. “Good morning.”
Yan Yi blinked up at him, silently pushing away from the embrace to sit up.
He wore only a shirt; his tail was flattened.
Lu Shangjin also sat up, stretching to grab the water jug from the nightstand and pouring a glass for Yan Yi.
He took it timidly, sipping to moisten his throat.
Was last night just a dream?
He lowered his gaze, recalling the night before: the one holding him while playing piano—was it the Lu Shangjin before him, or a dreamlike illusion? Or perhaps he was still dreaming now, never having truly woken.
Lu Shangjin lifted him onto his lap, hands on his small abdomen. “What are you thinking about?”
Yan Yi avoided the intimate gaze, placing the glass back on the nightstand. “Thinking… about you. Why did you suddenly change?”
Lu Shangjin cupped his face, forcing him to meet his eyes, voice low and husky. “Do you still like me?”
Yan Yi hesitated, lips pressed together.
“What are you thinking?” Lu Shangjin leaned close to his mouth.
He disliked this hesitation; his little rabbit should be full of admiration, eagerly confessing his love.
Yan Yi shivered. That deep, teasingly seductive voice near his ear could melt anyone’s bones—let alone a rabbit with little willpower.
Lu Shangjin held his face, pressing his lips against Yan Yi’s soft mouth, arms wrapping his slim waist.
Yan Yi reached out, circling his hand around Lu Shangjin’s spine, his fluffy tail brushing lightly in his palm.
“Just keep dreaming, don’t wake up.”
“I have to go back to the company—there’s a pile of work waiting.” Lu Shangjin held Yan Yi’s hand, consulting. “Do you want to come with me?”
Yan Yi’s lashes fluttered, gaze slightly downcast; his tail stopped moving.
Lu Shangjin was familiar with omega expressions, sensing Yan Yi’s reluctance and hesitation through subtle observation.
“You go ahead.” Yan Yi climbed from Lu Shangjin’s lap to fold the blankets.
“Then you must take care of yourself, okay?” Lu Shangjin touched the small tail. “If anything happens, call me.”
Surprisingly, Lu Shangjin didn’t force him to go along.
Yan Yi was a bit taken aback.
Lu Shangjin handed him the card again. “There’s only one million on it. Spend it, then come to me. Okay?”
Yan Yi didn’t take the bait, focusing on tidying the bedroom. “You give your omegas unlimited funds. Why do I only get one million?”
Lu Shangjin smiled. “Because I don’t want them constantly bothering me over money. With you, just come to me—anything you want, I’ll give you.”
The reasoning was rather crooked—but at least it sounded slightly better.
He took the card, noticing a butterfly sticker with the password written on it.
The numbers were ordinary—not anyone’s birthday or any meaningful date.
Such a mistake was unlike a seasoned hand like Lu Shangjin.
Yan Yi quickly concluded the card wasn’t Lu Shangjin’s, but he still accepted it, not probing or analyzing, afraid of turning a sweet dream into a nightmare. He’d always been like this.
“I’m leaving.” Lu Shangjin pried his lips from Yan Yi’s in a reluctant, possessive kiss. “Take care of yourself. I’ll come back.”
His tone was casual, like leaving for work, yet it made Yan Yi’s eyes curve with a flutter of emotion.
He tossed the car keys to Lu Shangjin. “Go back.”
And with that, it ended. Some stories conclude at their most beautiful; to continue would taint them, turning life into a withered nightmare.
So Yan Yi didn’t put pen to paper.
He stood at the door, watching Lu Shangjin’s black BMW disappear down the cobblestone alley until even the last trace of dust vanished from sight.
Before opening, Gu Weizao sat on the windowsill, propping his chin in his hands.
“Why didn’t you go with him?” he asked, popping a piece of candy into his mouth. “That alpha may be… a little reckless, but he seems to care about you. Just a fight? It’s not that simple, right?”
Yan Yi leaned against the doorframe on a bar stool, chatting idly. “Divorced. He erased the marks on me. I’m fragile—being abandoned twice could drive me crazy.”
“You see, he’s so considerate now… yet still refuses to mark me.”
Gu Weizao paused, gazing at the empty street, humming “Honestly.”
Yan Yi threw a piece of candy at him. “Change the song.”
Gu Weizao dodged, sticking out his tongue playfully. “I’m your boss. I sing whatever I want.”
Yan Yi sighed, brushing his rabbit ears, lowering his gaze to check his phone.
Many missed calls from unknown numbers.
And one message:
“Yan Yi, pick up. I have something important to tell you, really.”
Chewing his candy, Yan Yi scrolled through it.
“Another one from that little lion… these kids are really persistent lately.”