Sunlight filtered through the glass and fell across the sleeping little rabbit’s face. Yan Yi turned over, then, still half-asleep, pushed himself up onto his knees. His fluffy little tail poked softly out from beneath his thin wool sweater as he sat there for a moment, waking up.
The numbness at the gland on the back of his neck had faded a little, and his body no longer felt as weak as it had in the past few days. He had probably recovered to about J1 differentiation level. To fully recover, he would need at least another month.
The rose stems on the windowsill had long since rotted in the water. He had been staying in this small inn for a week now. He had planned to go to the hospital, but laziness made him postpone it day after day. Now he didn’t feel any discomfort—just a bit weaker in combat ability. It didn’t matter. Rabbits were supposed to be delicate; it made them more deserving of an alpha’s affection.
Yan Yi lifted his sweater and looked down at his belly. It had only risen slightly into a small curve and hadn’t grown any further, just smoothing out the lines of his abs. Once covered, it was impossible to tell any difference.
“Good baby,” Yan Yi murmured, gently stroking his stomach, imagining what kind of child he would have after ten months of pregnancy.
A peregrine falcon and a lop-eared rabbit pairing could only produce five possible outcomes, assuming no mutation: peregrine falcon alpha, beta, or omega; lop-eared rabbit omega or beta—because lop-eared rabbits didn’t produce alphas.
If the rabbit served as the maternal body, the chances of having a little rabbit were higher than having a falcon.
“It has to be a sweet, adorable little rabbit omega.” Yan Yi curled up in the blankets, hugging his belly and stroking it tenderly. Resting his head on his arm, he whispered, “Come out soon and keep Daddy company… Daddy can do anything. When you grow up, I’ll find you an alpha who loves you the most—someone who brings you flowers, holds you when it’s cold, plays music and sings for you, and loves only you.”
He tried to paint the happiest picture in his mind.
Gradually, his smile faded. His voice softened. “Actually… maybe not. Daddy has bad taste. You’d better choose for yourself. If you can’t find anyone, then stay with Daddy. Don’t let yourself suffer.”
“Come out soon… talk to Daddy,” he murmured, gently stroking the little rabbit in his belly.
Xia Jingtian had been sent back to school by Yan Yi to take his exams. No matter how many different numbers he used to call, Yan Yi rejected them all.
Strictly speaking, his compatibility with Xia Jingtian was very high, and being around that little lion did make him feel relaxed. But he couldn’t carry someone else’s child and go chase happiness with him—that wouldn’t be fair to the boy. Good people deserved better.
Besides, during the few days Xia Jingtian stayed with him, his QQ and WeChat notifications never stopped—upperclassmen flirting under the guise of work, or friend requests with notes like “Want to hook up? Cat omega, very skilled.”
The kid was clearly extremely popular at school. Yan Yi hadn’t deliberately looked into it, but from the fragments he overheard in Xia Jingtian’s calls, he could guess his background: the second young master of the Hongye Xia family. He had status, looks, and a prestigious gland type—an American lion M2. It made no sense for him to hang himself on a little rabbit.
And Yan Yi, carrying a baby rabbit, would never be accepted into the Xia family anyway. Causing tension between the Xia and Lu families over one omega? Possible—but unnecessary.
His own feelings were already a dying pile of ashes. Since he started dating Lu Shangjin in 2009, he had grown exhausted, his heart filled with tiny wounds. When too many accumulated, they needed an outlet. It wouldn’t be fair to let Xia Jingtian, still a blank slate, fall in love only to spend his time repairing those wounds.
If Xia Jingtian had been a heartless playboy, Yan Yi might have accepted things more easily. After all, who wouldn’t want an alpha with high compatibility?
He lay in bed scrolling through Yuan Mi’s Weibo. The reposts and comments had dropped significantly—perhaps something had gone wrong with Lu Shangjin’s management.
There had been no updates on the 18th. Thinking back, that matched the day he had called Lu Shangjin. Maybe he had gone off to rent another island, taking a yacht full of omegas on vacation.
“What’s so great about him anyway?” Yan Yi muttered, downloading a video app and giving Yuan Mi a view.
Unexpectedly, the plot was good. The alpha playing the prince was charming, constantly calling down Yuan Mi’s character—who played a shadow guard perched on the rafters—just to tease him.
“A feel-good drama,” Yan Yi said, watching with interest.
The series had only updated to episode seven. To watch more, he’d have to subscribe. It was just getting to the part where Yuan Mi’s character would be beaten—he didn’t want to drop it now.
Suddenly, a text notification popped up at the top of his phone. The number was unfamiliar. He thought it was Xia Jingtian again—but the message contained only four words:
“Come home immediately.”
It was Lu Shangjin.
Yan Yi stared at the phone for a long time.
If he had received this message on the 18th, he would have been so happy.
Why was Lu Shangjin always half a beat too slow? Was this what they meant by incompatibility?
After thinking for a long time, he finally replied:
“Sir, I’ve resigned.”
There was no reply. Instead, the phone rang.
Yan Yi sighed and answered.
Lu Shangjin’s voice was no longer as deep and smooth as he remembered. It was dry and hoarse, like someone who had been running a fever for days without drinking water—rough and grating.
“Yan Yi, I’m waiting for you at home,” Lu Shangjin said, exhaustion heavy in his tone.
“I’ve resigned, sir,” Yan Yi repeated.
He didn’t know why Lu Shangjin sounded so tired. Probably overindulgence the night before. And he could guess why he was receiving this call—he must have woken up wanting fresh milk, only to find the little rabbit who used to serve him wasn’t there.
Lu Shangjin didn’t get angry. Instead, his voice softened deliberately. “Don’t say things like that in anger.”
“What?” Yan Yi sounded as if he’d just heard a joke that didn’t stir anything in him, but which he felt he should politely acknowledge.
His gaze dulled as he murmured, “Hire another excellent steward. Preferably with high compatibility. One who can wear an apron and let you drag them over and fuck them to your satisfaction.”
“Nonsense.” Lu Shangjin’s tone suddenly turned heavy, then he realized he was being too harsh and forced himself to be patient. “Come back first. I’ll explain. Don’t act out.”
“I’m acting out?” Yan Yi’s eyes widened, his rabbit ears twitching.
Lu Shangjin rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I am. I’m the one acting out. Just… be good. Come back.”
Yan Yi clenched his teeth and hung up.
His whole body tensed with anger, his legs trembling. He had been thrown out of the house while pregnant, left without care or concern for days—and in the other man’s eyes, it was all just him “acting out,” no different from the omegas Lu Shangjin kept around for pleasure.
He lay in bed for a while longer, then blocked Lu Shangjin’s new number as well. Getting up, he packed his things and checked out of the inn before noon.
He had been driven out in such a hurry that he didn’t have much luggage, nor much money—and he had no intention of being dragged back.
There were still things in the villa he wanted to take. He could always return later when Lu Shangjin was away on a business trip.
Yan Yi touched his belly, standing in front of the mirror and checking again and again. There was no visible sign he was pregnant. Only then did he leave the inn.
“Let’s go. Daddy’s going to earn milk money for you,” he murmured to the baby, encouraging it softly. While the traces of Xia Jingtian’s pheromones still lingered on him, he needed to find somewhere Lu Shangjin couldn’t track.
—
Lu Shangjin sat on a bench in the hospital corridor, now dressed in a patient’s gown. The gunshot wound in his left shoulder had been disinfected and bandaged. An IV drip hung from the back of his hand, slowly feeding medication into his body.
The smell of disinfectant filled the corridor. His phone screen showed the call had ended, returning silently to the home screen.
He took out a cigarette pack—empty. Irritated, he tossed it aside.
This was the Lu family’s private hospital, equipped with the most advanced medical technology in the world. The emergency room light was still on. Both Lu Lin and Ye Wan were inside.
Unfortunately, the one who deserved to die was still alive.
The one he longed for had already stopped breathing.
The grief he expected did not arrive. Lu Shangjin only felt a strange sense of relief—for Ye Wan.
Yan Yi had hung up on him.
For a long time, Lu Shangjin couldn’t process it.
Whether during their passionate days or after they broke up, Yan Yi had always answered his calls immediately, lingering on the line until Lu Shangjin hung up first.
He had never imagined Yan Yi would block his number. Only after Bi Ruijing reminded him did he think to try calling from a different one.
The operating room light suddenly changed.
Lu Lin came out first, expressionless, following Ye Wan’s covered body all the way to the morgue.
The doctors who came out afterward, however, hurried toward the elevator, surrounding an incubator.
Lu Shangjin froze. He tore out his IV needle and rushed over.
He grabbed a passing nurse. “The baby—the baby’s alive?”
The nurse nodded quickly. “Yes, Young Master Lu. It’s a baby alpha. We’re taking him for differentiation potential testing.”
Lu Shangjin’s gaze darkened. He sprinted up the stairwell toward the testing room. Seeing Ye Wan’s child being taken inside, he dismantled the ventilation system and climbed through the duct into the room.
There was only one technician inside, preparing for the test.
A cold gun barrel pressed against the back of his head.
The technician, just an ordinary omega, had no ability to resist an M2 alpha. He trembled, raising his hands. “Y-Young Master Lu…”
Lu Shangjin said nothing. He bent down and showed him a video.
In it, Lu Lin’s younger brother, Lu Jue, was shot in the head at a gambling table. The footage was high resolution—the splatter of brain matter hit the camera lens. The technician’s face went pale as he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Looks like this hasn’t made the news yet,” Lu Shangjin murmured by his ear. “I pulled the trigger.”
The omega’s fingers trembled violently, tears welling as he covered his ears. “I—I don’t know anything… please let me go…”
“I’ll give you a choice. Stay loyal to Lu Lin—or choose me?” Lu Shangjin tapped the cold barrel lightly against the omega’s gland. “You know who will control the Lu family in the future. Before I wash the Lu family in blood… don’t choose the wrong side.”
“Yes—yes… I’ll do whatever you say, Young Master Lu…” the omega stammered.
“Write a report saying this child has no differentiation potential. Find a recently deceased infant to replace him for cremation.”
“Then send this baby to Amphia Hospital. Have Xia Pingtian arrange someone to care for him.”
“Yes… yes… I’ll keep it secret…”
—
Yan Yi bought a long-distance bus ticket and headed south, transferring three times over two days before arriving in the small city of Nanqi.
Nanqi had a bar street he was familiar with. He had few friends—if they could even be called that. Most were nothing more than acquaintances from brief encounters.
Gray, uneven brick walls were decorated with red-painted wooden railings. Purple garland chrysanthemums bloomed in clusters, and beneath them hung postcards left behind by passing couples.
The entire street shared a similar aesthetic—artsy and quaint. Walls were adorned with hydrangeas, camellias, or coral bells. Occasionally, there were tattoo shops mixed in. Business only picked up in the evening; nightlife here was lively.
Yan Yi touched his slightly overgrown hair, bought a hair tie from a nearby shop, and tied his light gray hair into a small knot at the back of his head. Then he stepped into a bar called “Ruins.”
The lighting inside was dim. There were only about ten glossy wooden tables of irregular shapes. There was no business at all—just a young alpha in his twenties, dressed in a mix of punk and hip-hop style, singing passionately with a guitar.
When the alpha noticed a customer, he flicked his hair back and put on a deliberately melancholic expression. His eyes were bright, with a hint of roguish charm.
“You hiring bartenders?” Yan Yi asked, rubbing his arms lightly—it was a bit cold.
The alpha frowned, sizing him up. “We are—but only alphas. No weaklings.”
Just a passing acquaintance, it seemed. He didn’t recognize Yan Yi anymore.
Yan Yi smiled gently. “Why does a bartender have to be an alpha?”
The alpha lifted his chin. “Public security’s been bad lately. People come in to cause trouble and smash things. Need an alpha who can fight.”
Yan Yi rested his hand on the bar and lightly hopped onto a stool, looking at him with interest. “Aren’t you an alpha?”
A husky alpha.
“I…” The alpha pressed his lips together. “When people start smashing things… I kind of want to join them…”
Husky alpha. J1 differentiation ability:
“Demolition mode.”