After leaving the Li residence, Ying Zhiyu returned home.
Because his family had been by his side when he died, waking up eleven years in the past felt natural; the slightly younger version of his family brought no sense of unfamiliarity.
He usually went home almost every week, though the timing varied. Typically, he’d return the night before, help his parents run the bun shop in the morning, have lunch at home, and then leave.
In the capital, where every inch of land was precious, the Ying family rented only an old two-bedroom apartment.
His parents occupied one room, his Omega sister Ying Zhiyan lived in the other, and Ying Zhiyu mostly stayed at the dorm. Visiting home once a week meant making do with sleeping on the living room sofa.
That night, his parents were already asleep when he arrived.
He quietly took another shower in the bathroom. Just as he squeezed out his toothpaste, someone knocked at the bathroom door.
Clenching his toothbrush, Ying Zhiyu opened the door, sticking his head out and lowering his voice: “Mom?”
“Did I wake you?”
Unlike other restaurants, the bun shop required his parents to rise at 2:30 a.m. to prepare dough, chop fillings, and make buns. Clearly, it wasn’t yet time to get up.
Hearing it was her son, his mother shook her head and only asked, “Why are you home at this hour?”
Ying Zhiyu had already visited once this week. With their son busy at school, weekly visits were mainly to check on them. Rarely did he come several times a week—especially at this late hour.
Muttering, he replied vaguely, “Stayed out late tonight.”
His mother then asked if he was hungry, wanted to eat something.
Ying Zhiyu rinsed his mouth in a few swipes, gently pushed his mother back toward her room, and said, “Don’t worry about me. Go back to sleep.”
As he turned away from his parents’ bedroom door, a soft noise came from the room next door.
Ying Zhiyan appeared, wearing a white nightgown, long hair draping like a ghost as she floated into the kitchen.
Ying Zhiyu: “…”
Watching his sister pour a glass of water, he asked, “Still up so late?”
Ying Zhiyan, wearing framed glasses, sipped water while staring at her phone. She clearly hadn’t just woken up; it looked like she had gotten up in the middle of the night, thirsty from playing on her phone.
She glanced at her brother and sheepishly murmured, “Almost done.”
Because of a past liver surgery, her sleep was very important.
If this were the previous Ying Zhiyu, he’d likely have sternly reminded his sister to sleep.
But now, knowing her long-standing anxiety about falling asleep, a psychological issue observed by experts he had consulted before, he only asked, “What are you looking at so intently?”
Ying Zhiyan set down her water glass: “Looking at handsome guys.”
Because of her liver surgery, she had never had a romantic relationship or married.
Ying Zhiyu, curious, asked, “What handsome guy?”
Ying Zhiyan: “Li Xi! An Omega god—so handsome!”
Ying Zhiyu: “…”
She handed him her phone. Scrolling through Weibo, nearly ten trending topics were dominated by “Li Xi,” “Omega,” “sedative,” and “terrifying shooting,” all referring to the afternoon attack near the university district in the eastern part of the capital.
The target was the LI heir, constantly on hot search lists in recent months. A shooting incident tied into broader ABO social tensions created intense public discussion and reaction.
Ying Zhiyu carefully read a few reports. Whether or not it was under Li Xi’s instruction, any footage of him had been completely erased—no video, no photos, nothing leaked.
Ying Zhiyu paused on a snapshot of Li Xi, flanked by bodyguards, frowning and scanning the area as if searching for something.
“Is he really that handsome?”
Ying Zhiyan treated Li Xi like an idol: “Omega looks that good, Alpha can’t compete! Your sister almost swooned for him—don’t you think?”
Ying Zhiyu: “…”
He couldn’t respond—he only knew that in his previous life, Li Xi hadn’t “swung.”
After Ying Zhiyan went to sleep, Ying Zhiyu grabbed his phone and saw Li Xi’s WeChat message, saying the next time for the marriage license would be decided by him.
He replied, then lay on the sofa for a couple of hours in a half-dazed state.
When his parents got up to go to the bun shop, Ying Zhiyu followed, yawning.
He was finally free around 10 a.m., just as his phone rang.
An unfamiliar number, with no saved contact name.
But glancing at it, the number looked very familiar.
He answered: “Hello?”
“Mr. Ying, good day. I am…”
The moment he heard the voice, he remembered why the number was familiar.
It was the lawyer who had followed up on the “prenup” document attached to his email.
Ying Zhiyu had excellent memory—photographic, some would say—but hadn’t immediately connected this number to the prenup before answering.
The lawyer began formally outlining the purpose of the call:
- Mr. Li Xi voluntarily renounces any claim Mr. Ying Zhiyu may have regarding all pre- and post-marriage patents, including any future natural appreciation, licensing, transfer, equity, dividends, and all derivative benefits, which will permanently belong solely to you.
- This morning, Mr. Li contacted us to amend certain terms under the “trust assets” clause in the original prenup.
The lawyer continued: The trust income portion of Mr. Li Xi’s personal assets has been changed from indivisible to divisible.
After exam week, the School of Biomedical Sciences entered summer break.
Undergraduates rushed off campus, but Ying Zhiyu, soon to be a first-year PhD student, wasn’t idle.
His advisor, Xia Xianru, deputy dean of the School of Biology, assigned him a task before the break: coordinate a quality internship program with Qianqiu Shengshi Biopharmaceutical Group.
This internship program had been facilitated by Ying Zhiyu’s roommate, Xu Kuo.
Qianqiu Shengshi belonged to the Xu family pharmaceutical enterprise. Though Xu Kuo wasn’t from the main line, his status still mattered, ensuring the program progressed smoothly.
As Xia Xianru’s favored student and a representative of outstanding students at the School of Biomedical Sciences, Ying Zhiyu had spent these weeks running around to support the program.
When the collaboration was finalized that evening, Qianqiu Shengshi invited them to a celebratory dinner.
It was at this moment that Li Yue’s message was sent to Li Xi’s phone.
[Sister: [image]]
[Sister: Is your Alpha also working as a hostess on the side?]
An hour later, after finishing a work meeting, Li Xi finally saw Li Yue’s message.
He first opened the image and furrowed his brow.
In the photo Li Yue sent, Ying Zhiyu had his arm around someone as they walked, surrounded by a group of men and women, ages ranging roughly 30–40. It was clear they were social elites, all well-dressed.
Li Xi replied: [Where is this?]
Li Yue didn’t respond immediately. After a few seconds, Li Xi called her.
Finally, she answered: “Brother.”
“Where?” Li Xi asked bluntly.
Li Yue asked, “Brother, are you asking where I am, or where your little Alpha is?”
Li Xi was silent for a moment. “Where is he?”
Li Yue laughed. “Brother, why so serious? I even saw your bodyguards. Would you not know where your little Alpha is?”
Li Xi had indeed assigned two bodyguards to follow Ying Zhiyu, but their task was to protect him, not surveil him. Unless Li Xi asked, they didn’t need to report Ying Zhiyu’s daily whereabouts.
Li Xi said nothing.
Li Yue stopped beating around the bush. “The photo was sent to me by Xu Suxiao. He said he ran into a cousin at the Peninsula Hotel and wanted to say hello.”
Xu Suxiao was the eldest son of the latest generation of the Xu family pharmaceutical lineage—an Alpha, thirty-five, unmarried, who had been pursuing Li Yue for two years.
Apparently, Xu Suxiao was reporting his own schedule to Li Yue and took a photo for proof. He had accidentally captured Ying Zhiyu with his arm linked over someone else’s shoulder.
Li Xi stood at the conference room doorway, staring at his phone.
Zhang Jingrui, having finished taking meeting notes, left the office, then returned to glance down the hallway.
Li Xi still hadn’t moved an inch.
Zhang Jingrui hesitated with his briefcase, preparing to tell his boss he was leaving. But before he could speak, Li Xi lifted his head: “Any plans tonight?”
Zhang Jingrui froze. “Uh?”
Forty-five minutes later, Zhang Jingrui followed his boss across half of South City, arriving at a private room in the Peninsula Hotel.
Seeing his expressionless boss motion to the server to knock, Zhang Jingrui’s doubts hadn’t yet formed, but as the door slowly opened, a young, handsome face came into view—and the answer became obvious.
As the door slid open, the clinking of glasses inside abruptly stopped.
A dozen eyes inside the room all turned to the entrance.
Zhang Jingrui quickly scanned the room. His sharp mind quickly assessed that the only person of high enough status here to have a connection with Li Xi was Xu Suxiao of Xu Pharmaceuticals.
Although Xu Pharmaceuticals was far behind LI, Xu Suxiao had been pursuing Li Yue for years. A minor connection with Li Xi made sense.
The corridor remained silent as the observant Zhang Jingrui, in place of his silent boss, spoke first: “General Manager Li just finished some socializing here. I heard President Xu is also here, so he came by to say hello.”
Xu Suxiao truly hadn’t expected to run into Li Xi here.
And Li Xi had come over specifically to greet him?
Could it be that his relentless efforts over the past two years had finally impressed Li Yue, and Li Xi had come out of courtesy to his sister?
Xu Suxiao’s surprise and delight were written all over his face.
He quickly stepped toward the private room doorway. “Third Young Master is dining here too?”
Inside the room were colleagues from his group’s HR department and some business managers. There was no way they were of sufficient status to engage with Li Xi directly.
Xu Suxiao had no intention of introducing Li Xi to the people inside; he spoke as he moved toward the door, apparently intending to talk with Li Xi outside.
But when he tried to step out, Li Xi was still standing there, unmoving.
Xu Suxiao: ?
Li Xi’s demeanor toward Xu Suxiao was extremely cold. There was no trace of the “courtesy visit” attitude he had imagined.
Instead, from the moment the door opened, Li Xi’s gaze remained fixed behind Xu Suxiao.
Having spent years immersed in the business world, Xu Suxiao quickly realized that the supposed “greeting” was likely just an excuse.
Following Li Xi’s line of sight, he turned his head—
In the corner of the room, a young, handsome Alpha stood. He wore a black dress shirt with a slim black tie, matching dark casual trousers, and black Oxford shoes.
Compared to Ying Zhiyu’s usual T-shirts and casual pants, the dress shirt and trousers emphasized the Alpha’s long limbs and near-perfect proportions, making his 6’2” frame even more striking.
Perhaps it was the formal setting tonight.
Ying Zhiyu hadn’t just put on a tie; his short black hair seemed lightly styled with gel. The last traces of youthful student appearance were gone, replaced with the subtle aura of an elite professional.
That sharp, unwavering gaze fell directly on him, and Ying Zhiyu certainly knew it.
He left Xu Kuo, who was desperately tugging at his sleeve under the table, and rose to walk toward the door, fully aware of the several heated gazes following his every move.
When he reached the doorway, Xu Suxiao respectfully stepped aside—but his eyes remained curiously scrutinizing.
“General Manager Li,” Ying Zhiyu greeted proactively.
Li Xi studied him for a long moment. “Had some drinks?”
Ying Zhiyu nodded honestly. “Just two.”
Xu Suxiao didn’t know how strong this Alpha’s tolerance was, but there was a faint mingling of alcohol and cigarette scent on him. Under the bright lights of the private room, his handsome face glowed with a subtle flush.
Li Xi frowned, studying him closely.
He had said he would contact Ying Zhiyu to handle the marriage registration once he was free.
Yet here he was, on summer break, making time to drink and dine with others, but still hadn’t contacted him?