Forcing oneself to laugh and chat while troubled only made things worse. Small talk about irrelevant matters couldn’t distract him or erase the threads of pain in his heart—the other party simply wasn’t important enough.
“Xia Jingtian,” Yan Yi murmured absentmindedly, repeating the name. The CEO of Jiu’an Hongye was also surnamed Xia; a while ago, he had even checked a number for Lu Shangjin. But it wasn’t this number. Perhaps it was a common surname, or perhaps this young master had deliberately chosen it.
Yet he habitually avoided digging into people’s identities because Lu Shangjin didn’t like him mingling in the circles of aristocratic alphas. At first, Lu Shangjin had cared for him, protecting him like a fragile porcelain doll within the deep-seated estate, fearing other families’ gland hunters might target him.
The little rabbit had fallen for that protective attention. An omega by nature liked to be possessed and pampered by the beloved alpha. So he obediently stayed home, experimenting with new recipes every day, hands trained to handle guns now arranging cream and piping bags, the fiery, stimulating scent of gunpowder mellowed into something sweet and soft.
Yet Lu Shangjin came home later and later, carrying unfamiliar omega scents, each one different.
After his little rabbit put down the knife and tied on an apron, Lu Shangjin seemed to prefer highborn omegas, polished and proper, suitable for formal occasions. Luckily, nothing crossed the line. Yan Yi understood him: he was merely a killing machine—how could he be charming?
Before acting cute, Yan Yi had to consider carefully, observing Lu Shangjin’s mood, guessing whether his antics would be reciprocated. If not, he quietly watched Lu Shangjin work or sleep.
The young master on the phone suddenly became flustered, voice rising and falling: “Damn it, it’s raining! I didn’t drive. I just landed this afternoon.”
Yan Yi’s room was on the second floor. Outside, fine, icy raindrops fell. From the end of the narrow road below came the hurried sound of footsteps: a twenty-something alpha, phone in hand, looking for shelter from the rain.
It was him.
Yan Yi had an excellent memory; he could remember anyone he had met once. At the gas station, he had pressed a Desert Eagle against that lion-alpha’s forehead.
And now he had come looking for him.
The first thought that sprang to Yan Yi’s mind was that this alpha hadn’t just happened to pass by—he must have tracked his movements and identity. His panicked presence outside Yan Yi’s window was deliberate; he couldn’t have known where Yan Yi lived otherwise.
Still, Yan Yi put on pants and slippers, grabbed his keys, and went downstairs.
The child outside, trying to shield himself from the rain with several flyers reading “Interested in Swimming and Fitness?”, looked pitiful, and he was still persistently calling on the phone.
——
Xia Jingtian held the flyers over his head, scanning for an open shop to take shelter, grumbling at the troublesome little rabbit. He could have been relaxing at home, taking a bath or playing games, but when he heard Lu Shangjin had roughly thrown the little rabbit out of the house over the phone, he booked a last-minute ticket to come see him that very night.
He wanted to give Yan Yi a hug he couldn’t escape from—he hadn’t properly seen him in the dim hospital room.
He hurried forward. Ten meters ahead, a frail omega appeared, wearing only a thin beige wool sweater. Two limp little rabbit ears drooped in his soft gray hair. He slowly looked up at the sky, startled by the cold raindrops on his cheeks. His ears twitched, shaking the drops off.
Xia Jingtian froze, slowing his steps until he stopped under a streetlamp two meters away.
Hearing the sound, Yan Yi turned his head. The little rabbit ears twitched in confusion.
The small white rabbit was so thin his jaw was pointed, his frail frame even more delicate under the soft beige sweater. Days in the hospital had left him emaciated and weak. A pregnant omega, yet thrown out of his home by a heartless alpha.
Under the streetlamp, Yan Yi’s face was pale; his eyes reflected only the flickering light. No longer the bold, reckless little rabbit who had once confidently ridden a Nordic goddess and removed his helmet, he looked lost and homeless.
Regaining his composure, Xia Jingtian hurried over, removing his coat and draping it over Yan Yi, stretching the collar to wrap him tightly. He pulled the frail little rabbit, like a withered reed, into his arms, releasing a large amount of calming pheromones, gently stroking his hair.
He felt inexplicably drawn to Yan Yi, understanding it was due to their high pheromone compatibility. Seeing a once-bold little omega reduced to this frail state after the hospital, as an alpha, he couldn’t help but feel heartache.
The alpha in front of him wore a loose white T-shirt, concealing a lion tattoo across his chest. He looked like a schoolboy spinning a basketball, the type surrounded by admiring omegas cheering every stylish shot.
Yan Yi stared, surprised, letting himself be held.
Lu Shangjin rarely hugged him so warmly and sincerely; more often, he would curl a finger to beckon the bouncing little rabbit over. Sometimes he responded, sometimes not, but the little rabbit’s enthusiasm never waned when hugging him.
A large wave of calming pheromones flowed into Yan Yi’s unprotected glands. Because of their compatibility, the effect was remarkable, even easing his pregnancy discomfort. He drew in a contented breath, feeling an even deeper sadness.
After breaking up with Lu Shangjin, he had endured his heats with suppressants and painkillers. When it became unbearable, he had secretly curled up beside Lu Shangjin’s bed at night, afraid even to breathe freely.
The security of being enveloped in his alpha’s pheromones was incomparable; Lu Shangjin’s presence was safe and warm, like being gently stroked to sleep.
Yan Yi’s nose ached. The things he had so carefully withheld from Lu Shangjin were now being given freely by the young lion-alpha.
“All right, come upstairs.” Yan Yi said flatly, slipping from Xia Jingtian’s arms and returning the coat.
As he removed it, something wet in his pocket caught his eye—a small bouquet of roses.
From elementary school until now, Xia Jingtian’s flirtations cultivated among flowerbeds had completely slipped his mind. He awkwardly pushed Yan Yi upstairs to prevent him from freezing, explaining, “It was late when I landed. The flower shop only had three roses. I wanted to get them for you.”
He had wanted to buy every rose in the shop for a sad little white rabbit, but there were only three—better than nothing.
Yan Yi looked at the damp roses, a faint smile tugging at his lips, recalling how he used to bring roses back to Lu Shangjin—was it as reckless and funny in his mind too?
Climbing the stairs, he picked one from the bouquet, sniffed it, and placed it in his mouth.
Biting and chewing.
Xia Jingtian’s mouth opened slightly, watching him like one would a rabbit.
Inside the cramped little apartment with only one bed and a bathroom, he didn’t mind—it was just the little rabbit who felt wronged.
“Thanks, I like it.” Yan Yi placed the bare stem into the only glass bottle on the windowsill, exhaled, and went to fetch the kettle to boil water.
“You haven’t eaten yet? There’s only instant noodles here. I’ll make you a cup.” Yan Yi grabbed a box of instant noodles from the foldable table and began tearing the packaging.
Because his glands were dormant, the assistance was minimal. Yan Yi’s pale, slender fingers struggled to tear the plastic, taking a long time to open a slit.
“I’ll do it, I’ll do it.” Xia Jingtian rushed over, tearing the box open, snatching the kettle, and fetching water, mumbling disapprovingly, “Can this really be clean…”
The sound of water and scrubbing followed.
The young master, unaccustomed to manual labor, appeared adept. Returning with the filled kettle, he plugged it in, studying the operation carefully.
Yan Yi sat cross-legged on the bed, pillow in arms, silently watching him work, occasionally remarking, “You usually don’t do chores, huh, kiddo?”
Xia Jingtian finally found the switch and pressed it, looking slightly frustrated at himself, then laughed foolishly, only to scold himself for being silly.
The cold wind had chilled Yan Yi, who covered his mouth and coughed twice.
Hearing this, Xia Jingtian immediately released a large wave of calming pheromones, snuggling him into a blanket bun.
Yan Yi frowned, his delicate brows knitting into a rare frown, slightly stern.
Xia Jingtian looked at him innocently, wondering if he had offended him. He wasn’t a lion—more like a spoiled big cat, lingering at Yan Yi’s side.
Yan Yi quietly avoided his gaze, looking instead at the flower stems in the glass bottle on the windowsill.
“Don’t waste your pheromones on me.”
“I’m something no one wants. I’m dirty.”
When he said this, his eyes were dim, without ripples—empty.
Who had reduced an omega, even in heat, unwilling to let any other alpha near, to such self-deprecating pride and confidence? He demeaned himself to the point that one wanted to scold him awake, yet at the same time felt an overwhelming urge to hold him tight.