Lu Shangjin was suddenly reminded of something. He took a deep breath and, suppressing his anger, asked, “Xia Pingtian told me you took a liking to the hamster omega I brought to the hospital for a gland replacement surgery.”
Bi Ruijing flicked ash off his cigarette, puzzled. “Don’t talk nonsense. You think I’d compete with you over someone? Who’s getting a gland replacement?”
Lu Shangjin’s lips twitched.
Although the Xia brothers were several years apart in age, they looked almost identical—even their voices seemed cast from the same mold. Thinking back carefully, the voice of the “President Xia” who had called him earlier demanding he hand over the hamster omega sounded much more like the second young master of the Xia family he had spoken to today.
“Played me.” Lu Shangjin gritted his teeth.
Bi Ruijing slapped his forehead and quietly instructed the bodyguard beside him, “Keep track of the time. When Madam wakes up, she’ll need that vegetarian noodles from the north gate of Xinjie.”
The bodyguard replied softly, “Madam just called. He said he doesn’t want that anymore—he wants you to go back and make lamb meatball soup for him.”
“What time will it be by the time I get back?” Bi Ruijing frowned and checked his watch. “Fine, fine. Have Aunt Zhao buy the lamb and grind it up first. I’ll drive back myself.”
“Yes.”
Bi Ruijing crushed out his cigarette and patted Lu Shangjin on the shoulder. “Got stuff at home. I’m heading out.”
Lu Shangjin returned home alone. No one had taken care of the place in a long time; a layer of dust covered the furniture. He couldn’t be bothered to hire anyone.
The ashtray on the coffee table had been smashed and still lay in pieces under the sofa. Lu Shangjin walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and picked up the scattered rabbit food packages one by one, stacking them neatly.
It had been a long time since he’d asked Yan Yi what he wanted to eat. More often, he assumed he knew, buying what he believed Yan Yi liked.
But back then, whenever he asked Yan Yi what he wanted or liked, the silly little rabbit would always answer, “I like whatever you pick for me.”
At that time, Lu Shangjin still paid attention to his habits. Yan Yi loved strawberries—he could eat an entire box in one go. But cold, watery food wasn’t good for his stomach, so Lu Shangjin only allowed him half a box each day.
The little rabbit would sit on the sofa, sulking for a long time. In the end, Lu Shangjin would have to bring over a bowl of warm tremella soup, feed him, hold him, and coax him for quite a while before he calmed down.
In the beginning, Yan Yi had quite a temper.
But gradually, he became easier to appease.
Lu Shangjin had thought it meant Yan Yi had grown more sensible. Only now did he realize—when someone becomes easier and easier to soothe, it’s probably because the person willing to comfort him has grown colder and colder. When even a single embrace becomes enough to feel happy, how could he still dare to act willfully, just to hear those tender words he never tired of?
Lu Shangjin walked through the vast, empty villa twice. In the storage room, he found a wardrobe stuffed with quilts and pillows. Yan Yi had his own bedroom, but never slept there. When alone, he would only sleep in this narrow closet.
Once, after a late-night business engagement, Lu Shangjin returned home around two or three in the morning. He couldn’t find Yan Yi anywhere, searching every corner before finally discovering the curled-up, sleeping little rabbit inside the wardrobe.
Yan Yi rubbed his eyes, wrapped his arms softly around Lu Shangjin’s neck, and murmured in complaint, “I get scared when I’m alone… come back earlier tomorrow, okay?”
Lu Shangjin had felt a pang of pain then. He held Yan Yi tightly and coaxed him, “I’ll come back early tomorrow to keep you company.”
In the blink of an eye, so many years had passed. Yan Yi no longer clung to him or acted spoiled.
Lu Shangjin had always thought Yan Yi had changed first—that was why their relationship faded. Only now did he belatedly realize that it was himself who had changed.
He bent down and felt around, pulling out a photograph from beneath the pillow.
In the photo, two boys not yet ten years old had their arms slung over each other’s shoulders. Yan Yi tugged at his rabbit ears, pouting, while Lu Shangjin tilted his head, looking at him with pure, innocent laughter in his eyes.
Back then, they had only just met. They hadn’t even kissed yet—just shyly hooked their fingers together, blushing.
The photo had been laminated, but it was clear the original had already been worn. A few dried tear stains marked its surface. It must have been handled so often that it became uneven, forcing someone to laminate it just to preserve it intact.
Thinking back over the years—passion, distance, everything—they had nothing left to prove those times had ever existed. The only thing they had was this photo, taken by his omega father.
“So it’s still here.” Lu Shangjin’s gaze softened as he placed the photo back under the pillow.
Beneath the pillow was also a small black gift box. Inside, a carefully polished carrot brooch was neatly stored. Feeling around further, he found more of Yan Yi’s treasured items, all hidden under the pillow—things he needed to hold while sleeping to feel safe.
They had been so good before. No one had ever mentioned compatibility back then. How had compatibility suddenly become an excuse for disgust?
Lu Shangjin rubbed his temples hard.
He went to the underground armory and selected a handgun, attached a silencer, loaded three magazines, and drove away from the villa. Under the cover of night, he headed for the pine forest on the outskirts of Changhui City—to Lu Lin’s estate.
He parked a kilometer away and approached on foot. The lights in Lu Lin’s bedroom were off, but Lu Shangjin still waited cautiously in the shadows of the garden for half an hour. Once he was sure Lu Lin was asleep, he quietly chambered a round, climbed up to the balcony, slipped into the second floor, and made his way down into the basement.
The basement of the Lu residence was spacious and brightly lit, spanning several hundred square meters and divided into more than twenty rooms. Holding his breath, Lu Shangjin walked slowly down the silent corridor.
He stopped outside one of the rooms.
The light inside was on. Someone seemed to be living there.
Gun in his right hand, he pressed himself against the door, turned the handle carefully, and opened it just a crack.
The room was tidy, with a bed and a television mounted on the wall playing an old movie.
A man in his fifties sat in a wheelchair. His legs had withered into thin sticks like chopsticks. Around his neck was a steel collar, a chain extending from it to a bolt fixed in the wall. At first glance, one might think a dangerous criminal was being restrained.
The omega looked up and smiled gently at Lu Shangjin.
Unexpectedly gentle. Strikingly beautiful. Though fine lines had formed at the corners of his eyes, they could not conceal the stunning beauty he once possessed.
The omega beckoned softly to him, smiling warmly. “Come here. I’ve missed you.”
Lu Shangjin lowered his gun, locked the door behind him, and hurried over. He knelt before the omega, letting him touch his face.
“Dad,” he said quietly.
Ye Wan struggled to prop himself up and hugged him, carefully looking over his son. Lu Shangjin’s eyes were bloodshot.
“Not sleeping well?” Ye Wan pressed gently at his eyes with concern.
Lu Shangjin lowered his gaze—then suddenly froze as if stabbed, his eyes widening as he stared at the omega’s swollen abdomen, nearly full-term.
“Pregnant again?” His voice was hollow.
Ye Wan’s gaze remained gentle, though tinged with sorrow. “Yes. Lu Lin wants more outstanding offspring.”
“He’s already killed one of my older brothers, two younger brothers, and four younger sisters. Still not enough?” Lu Shangjin gripped the gun, his knuckles cracking.
On September 25, 2012, he had found their bodies in the basement—preserved in formalin jars, each labeled with their differentiation grade: chameleon omegas, betas, peregrine falcon betas, and even an undifferentiated peregrine falcon alpha.
He said nothing. He kept investigating.
On April 1, 2016—three years ago—he stopped bringing flowers to Ye Wan’s grave.
Because that was the day he discovered that his omega father, believed by the outside world to have died years ago, had been imprisoned in this basement all along, forced to bear children endlessly.
Lu Shangjin’s omega father, Ye Wan, had a chameleon A3 gland—the same rare and precious type as Yan Yi. He had been a retired special forces soldier. Back then, Lu Lin was a sniper, and Ye Wan had been his spotter.
A chameleon’s J1 ability: “360-degree observation.”
M2 ability: “group invisibility.”
A3 ability: “nine-stage thrust.”
An omega with all three abilities designed for combat could not escape the fate of being captured, imprisoned, and drained dry by Lu Lin. Yan Yi was only a little rabbit—his abilities couldn’t even harm others.
As a second-stage differentiated peregrine falcon alpha, Lu Shangjin shone wherever he went. To the outside world, he was cold, composed, and unshakable. But since that day, whenever he saw Yan Yi’s A3 gland, he would lose control, spiraling into agitation.
So any omega could replace Yan Yi—except Yan Yi himself. He could not face the sincerity in Yan Yi’s eyes.
He could neither save his father’s past nor protect Yan Yi’s future.
Children raised in the Lu family’s ruthless survival-of-the-fittest system grew up stepping over the corpses of weaker siblings. Their hearts were hard.
Unless Lu Lin died.
But replacing Lu Lin as the head of the family would take time.
—
Ye Wan gently took his hand, removed the gun he was clutching, and placed it on his own lap. “Have you made up with Yan Yi?”
“No.” Lu Shangjin stood up, expression indifferent. “It’s impossible. Maybe he doesn’t need me anymore anyway.”
Ye Wan chuckled softly. “Omegas at our level never need anyone.”
“But if—just if—I had been given even a little love and care, maybe my life wouldn’t have turned out like this. Every day, all I do is bear his children. It’s become my job.” Ye Wan smiled faintly, dimples appearing. “Don’t let Yan Yan end up like me—so heartbroken he forgets where his heart even is.”
Lu Shangjin stood stiffly, his gaze trembling.
“When he was forced into third-stage differentiation by Lu Lin, he was badly injured. His entire left hand was crushed off. He was so scared he trembled in my arms.” Ye Wan’s voice was gentle, but every word stabbed into the softest part of Lu Shangjin’s heart. “The Lu family’s technology is indeed advanced—you can’t even tell his left hand was reconstructed.”
Lu Shangjin’s eyes widened as he thought back. By touch or sight alone, it was impossible to tell. The hand was as nimble and beautiful as ever—except that whenever the topic of seeing Lu Lin came up, Yan Yi would instinctively hide his left hand behind his back.
And Lu Shangjin had never noticed.
He had even left Yan Yi—already on the verge of breaking—alone with Lu Lin for so long.
Ye Wan smiled faintly. “Freedom and love must be opposites. Why else would it hurt so much sometimes? A third-stage omega who never falls in love could live a very good life.”
Lu Lin had treated him “well” in his own way—raising Ye Wan into the most luxurious kind of prisoner.
“Give me a year,” Lu Shangjin said quietly. “I’ll kill Lu Lin and take you out.”
Ye Wan smiled at him. “Are the tulips by the door blooming well? When I get out, I’d like to see more of them.”
“Because Lu Lin’s pheromones smell like tulips, I planted a whole courtyard for him.”
“But I only like lilies. Remember to bring them to me.”
Lu Shangjin’s thoughts were in chaos. He fled the room as if escaping—but then realized he had left his gun behind. As he turned back, he heard a muffled pop from behind the door.
His hand froze on the doorknob. The color drained from his face.
He slowly pushed the door open.
Ye Wan lay in a pool of blood, Lu Shangjin’s silenced gun still in his hand. A charred bullet hole marked his temple.
He was still smiling beautifully.
Lu Shangjin stood at the doorway, motionless. The light reflected in his eyes, faint and hollow.
“Dad.”