The next day, Zhiyu’s biological clock woke him as usual.
Li Xi hadn’t stirred.
Perhaps a case of “absence makes the heart grow fonder”—and since they were newlyweds, the dual effects of their first night together made things last night nearly uncontrollable.
From piano to pool—finding the water warm—they’d even had a little fun in it.
Zhiyu rubbed his forehead. Next time at the pool, if he asked Li Xi if he was tired, he’d swear he wasn’t trying to provoke the Omega.
Li Xi’s dark, wet eyes fixed on him and pinned him at the poolside.
Zhiyu realized his mistake. “I meant… I feel a bit tired.”
Then Li Xi had said: “Just digesting. If you can’t do it, I will.”
And… he did.
Zhiyu had to admit—the physical gap between individuals isn’t dictated by AO gender…
After getting up, Zhiyu chose to wake up on the master bedroom terrace first.
He stood on the more than 150-square-meter “private aerial viewing deck,” holding the railing, peering down at the teeming masses in the city center.
Each person looked like a tiny speck.
Or like ants, endlessly busy their entire lives.
Zhiyu, standing atop the sky no one else could reach, thought—perhaps this was why everyone wanted to be on top.
“Do you like looking at the view?”
A hoarse voice sounded behind him.
Every time they slept together, Li Xi always found him on the terrace in the morning.
He tossed Zhiyu a robe. Zhiyu caught it, looking at him.
Li Xi said, “It’s high up here.”
Zhiyu: ?
Li Xi paused, expression flat: “Cool in the mornings and evenings.”
Because high up, the terrace is cooler.
Zhiyu smiled, tempted to ask why Li Xi always left half his meaning unsaid—but he didn’t.
He knew that at work, Li Xi’s instructions were always precise and complete.
Perhaps… this reserve was only for him?
Zhiyu remembered what he hadn’t said last night.
“I told Li Xi,” Zhiyu said, “my parents really like you.”
“You’re still my sister’s idol. She blocked me because she didn’t want me to return the money she sent to buy you a gift.”
Li Xi paused.
Perhaps just waking up in a good mood, Zhiyu smiled gently.
“Were you upset yesterday?” he asked, eyes lowered.
Before Li Xi could answer, Zhiyu took responsibility: “I shouldn’t have kept you in suspense. Sorry for the misunderstanding.”
Li Xi pressed his lips and shook his head. “Not your fault.”
Zhiyu’s stomach growled, cutting off anything more Li Xi might say.
“Is there food at home?” he asked naturally, unabashed.
Li Xi replied, “Call the hotel downstairs. The concierge will bring it up.”
“Okay,” Zhiyu said.
Li Xi made the call. Zhiyu went to shower, then to the kitchen for water.
Opening the open-concept penthouse fridge, Zhiyu froze mid-step.
Li Xi emerged to see the tall, long-legged Alpha standing at the wide-open fridge, half inside, staring blankly.
“What are you looking for?”
Li Xi assumed he hadn’t found what he wanted.
Zhiyu opened the double-door fridge fully, revealing a delicate, four- to five-inch chocolate coconut mousse cake, perfectly sized for two.
Li Xi stiffened—he’d nearly forgotten.
After a pause, he said dryly, “After a night, it’s probably no good.”
Zhiyu, however, thought: Next year, Li Xi’s birthday would require an even more extravagant effort.
From the Lange 1815 limited edition watch pre-ordered during wedding prep, to cars, piano, cake, drones, and even Li Xi himself—it was the most gift-filled birthday in Zhiyu’s twenty-two years.
Taking advantage of the tail end of the Omega heat period, Zhiyu and Li Xi spent the weekend in the city-center penthouse, immersed in each other.
By the panoramic glass walls, terraces, sauna, hot tub, private cinema, gym, and wine cellar, the air was thick with their high-concentration AO pheromones.
Li Xi had always excelled academically, though not at the prodigious level of an Alpha with photographic memory like Zhiyu.
But he had a sharp memory nonetheless.
He remembered that high-match pheromones were “destined by heaven”—AO genes dictating union, beyond personal choice.
He had previously ignored it… until now, tasting what it meant to truly encounter a “high match” person.
Every gesture, expression, word, even a gentle breath by his ear, seemed to draw him in irresistibly.
It was addictive—far stronger than any alcohol or nicotine he had ever experienced.
Yet sometimes, when Li Xi opened his eyes to see the handsome Alpha beside him, he wondered: Would another high-match person have the same effect?
Zhiyu had planned to return home on Sunday. Since they’d come Friday, he didn’t.
Sunday night, they went to a supermarket together, buying groceries and essentials.
The young Alpha promised to “show his skills.”
That night, Zhiyu cooked while Li Xi handed ingredients.
Zhiyu had said he could watch—but Li Xi still learned to help.
In the open kitchen, nearly every appliance looked untouched. Previously, Li Xi relied on five-star hotels delivering meals on time.
The Alpha moved efficiently at the counter.
Over the past days, Li Xi discovered more of Zhiyu’s hidden talents. Most geniuses avoided chores, but Zhiyu was different.
He could operate integrated stoves, steam ovens, ovens, vacuum cookers—even fix faucet connections without calling maintenance.
Perhaps it was from years of doing chores at home?
After dinner, the private doctor arrived on time.
The Li family maintained a massive medical team: internal medicine, surgery, nursing, specialists, Western and Chinese medicine, fitness, and mental health consultants.
Every Li family member’s body was monitored continuously, enabling personalized health management around the clock.
Today, the visitor to Li Xi’s home was an elderly Chinese medicine practitioner.
His purpose was clear—he went straight to Zhiyu.
Zhiyu extended his wrist, cooperating with the doctor’s examination while glancing over at Li Xi, silently “asking” for his attention.
Once the practitioner finished taking his pulse, Li Xi spoke up: “You’ve been sleeping so little. We have to find a solution.”
Zhiyu understood immediately—this visit was to address his “sleep disorder.”
In truth, Zhiyu had struggled with this issue in his previous life as well, both after marrying into the Li family and when entering the National Institute of Biological Sciences. He had consulted specialists and tried numerous treatments, both Western and traditional Chinese, but none worked very well.
It was a problem with his brain’s wiring; unless Zhiyu somehow broke his own brain and erased his IQ of 140, no external therapy could have much effect.
Still, he cooperated with the doctor’s “inspection by looking, listening, questioning, and taking the pulse.”
After the examination, Zhiyu rolled up his sleeve, revealing a lean, muscular arm, and escorted the doctor to the door.
Back inside, Li Xi remained standing in the receiving area.
Zhiyu casually suggested, “I might have to wake up early for school tomorrow. Should I sleep in the living room tonight?”
After several nights spent sharing a bed, Zhiyu had realized that Li Xi’s sleep was quite light. Every time he woke and left the bed for less than half an hour, Li Xi nearly always woke too.
“Oh, do you want to try the medicine just prescribed?” Zhiyu added. “I checked the prescription—it’s all warming herbs. It might help your sleep quality too.”
Intelligent yet steady, married into wealth yet modest, Li Xi handled someone he had no emotional history with in a calm, considerate way. Emotionally stable, filial, respectful to elders, and caring for the young—the Alpha was nearly unreal in his “perfection.”
Watching this Zhiyu, Li Xi couldn’t help asking, “Do you ever feel your family favors you less?”
“Favors?”
Zhiyu was momentarily taken aback, meeting Li Xi’s gaze.
The topic shifted abruptly, but Zhiyu quickly understood: Li Xi was thinking of him having no room, no proper bed, and perhaps making assumptions about family favoritism.
He shook his head firmly: “They’re not biased.”
He explained, “My parents didn’t even know about my sleep issues.”
Zhiyu’s sister, when she was 22, had suffered acute liver failure, triggered by what seemed to be a trivial cold.
It happened during her winter break from college. Zhiyu would wake at dawn every day to help their mother make breakfast for the street stall, braving harsh winter weather.
When Zhiyu first caught the cold, he didn’t think much of it. He casually took medicine for a few days, increased the dosage when it didn’t improve, until his face and skin turned yellow, and one morning he lost consciousness. Only then did the family realize something was wrong.
“My parents blamed themselves,” Zhiyu said. “They thought they’d neglected my sister while busy with life, and that caused the improper medication and all the consequences.”
They borrowed money for her treatment. His father even donated part of his liver. Foods his sister loved were never again on the table. Their remorse was real—but none of this was Zhiyu’s fault.
To make up for his sister, did they sacrifice the brother? From Zhiyu’s perspective, he had no personal room, no proper bed, and not even the foods he loved at home.
Even in his previous eleven-year marriage, despite the distant relationship, he knew Li Xi well. He didn’t need Li Xi to speak for him—he could read the meaning in his eyes.
The young, handsome Alpha smiled mischievously: “Are you feeling sorry for me?”
Li Xi lowered his eyes and said nothing.
Zhiyu stepped closer, took Li Xi’s hand, squeezing it gently: “I lived in my hometown all the time, my sister too. Even during the year my sister got sick, I stayed home for winter break. I was supposed to return to the county school afterward.”
When Zhiyu was eight, he transferred to the capital. With tattered backpacks and torn textbooks, his parents suspected he’d been bullied. At the same time, new regulations made it difficult for children from outside the capital to remain in school there.
Zhiyu paused, leading Li Xi to the panoramic glass wall of the seventy-seventh floor. He wrapped his arms around Li Xi’s slim waist from behind.
Li Xi’s body stiffened—a simple embrace, even after countless intimate moments, left him unsettled.
Zhiyu rested his chin on Li Xi’s shoulder and whispered softly, “Lean on me for a bit.”
Li Xi stopped moving.
Below them, the masses moved like ants.
After a while, Zhiyu spoke again: “After my sister’s illness, our parents felt they owed us. No matter how hard things were, they insisted on keeping me close.”
They had gone to great lengths, spending extra money to keep Zhiyu in the capital.
Because of this, the education and opportunities he received differed, and his path changed.
“I have an IQ of 140,” Zhiyu continued. “My sister is smart too. If she had my opportunities, transferring to the capital sooner, her life would have been different.”
He concluded: “I feel loved by my parents and sister. That’s enough.”
Comparison steals happiness. Obsessing over a missing room or a childhood dish, while ignoring what you have, ensures you’ll never feel fulfilled. Zhiyu, as smart as he was, would never let himself fall into that trap.
After a pause, Zhiyu fixed his gaze on Li Xi: “What about you?”
He remembered Li Xi’s distant, awkward relationship with his own father, Li Songqian. Why did a child favored in a wealthy family still feel estranged from his Alpha father?