Xia Jingtian crouched outside Yan Yi’s bedroom door, pressing his hand against it, almost able to feel the trembling sorrow of the little rabbit pressing against the other side.
He was only holding himself together, pretending not to break down in front of others.
Leaning against the door, Xia Jingtian pushed the phone Yan Yi had dropped in the hall back through the gap, then rested his head on his hands, watching a floral chandelier that a small flying insect had circled, and softly asked the rabbit inside:
“Hey… do you like children, or do you only like Lu Shangjin’s child?”
Yan Yi leaned against the door in silence for a long time.
Xia Jingtian waited, but got no answer. Relaxing against the wooden door, he noticed the shadow inside had moved away.
He stood up and sat on the hall sofa, looking down at his phone. The lock screen photo had changed to the three rose stems that Yan Yi had eaten before.
Opening the map, he found the nearest obstetrics hospital in the city.
In truth, the little young master of Ji’an Hongye wasn’t very good at taking care of others—but after meeting Yan Yi, he had somehow learned instinctively.
——
Gu Wei sat on a swing chair in the second-floor garden, gazing at the stars. Through the open glass window of Yan Yi’s bedroom, he saw Yan Yi curled up on the bed, hugging a pillow, his body folded like a fragile little ball, with a small patch of the pillow dampened near his eyes.
He walked over, leaned into the window to close the curtains, secured the window, yawned, and went to his own room to sleep.
“No romance, no forcing things.”
——
The next morning, a group of backpackers came into the bar for sightseeing in Nanqi, and Yan Yi couldn’t leave. He had to wait until tomorrow to go to the hospital.
On the third day, Gu Wei gave Yan Yi a day off.
Yan Yi tidied up his bedroom and wrapped himself in a gray trench coat—on payday, he had spent an entire morning shopping alone, with a sales assistant enthusiastically praising him, saying he looked like a perfect model for anything he tried on.
Looking at himself in the mirror, his thin collarbones protruded, and perhaps due to the lingering effects of the gland-suppressing injections, his face carried a faintly sickly pallor.
“Does this… look good?” Yan Yi asked the sales assistant.
Under those pale eyes, melancholy seemed almost tangible. The assistant hesitated for a moment, but noticing the wedding ring on his ring finger—polished and shining brightly—she smiled warmly: “Of course it looks good. Your husband will definitely like it.”
Hearing this, Yan Yi looked at himself in the mirror again. Half of the gloom in his eyes lifted, and he curved his brows in a soft smile, feeling genuinely satisfied with his reflection.
“Then wrap it up,” he said, smiling warmly—so different from the tense look in the mirror moments ago.
The card from Lu Shangjin was tucked into the notebook where Yan Yi recorded his points for Lu Shangjin. Unlike cash, a card felt light, easily misplaced, like their relationship—fragile and without guarantees.
It had to be kept like any other precious gift.
Lu Shangjin had regained a high score of 689. When adding points, Yan Yi never hesitated to add a large sum; when deducting, he carefully subtracted one by one.
He didn’t wake Xia Jingtian, who was sleeping on the sofa, and took a taxi alone to the nearest obstetrics hospital.
After a sleepless night, Yan Yi’s eyes were tinged with blue. He rested his head against the car door, pressing the window button to feel the slightly damp air outside.
At a downtown intersection, a prestigious elementary school had numerous luxury cars parked outside. Several parents refused to leave their children at the gate, practically wanting to drive into the classrooms themselves.
One child, wearing the same uniform but without a private car, crossed the street carrying a backpack.
As the pedestrian light turned green after a brief yellow flash, a left-turning van suddenly rushed out.
The little omega cried out and ran forward, terrified.
But the green light had already turned on, and dense traffic started moving. A silver Volkswagen screeched to a halt, tires grinding against asphalt, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. The little omega was about to be run over.
Yan Yi pushed open the car window and leaped out like a streak of lightning, catching the little omega and rolling them both out of harm’s way.
Sharp braking sounds echoed across the street.
Yan Yi set the little omega down at the school gate, crouching to brush dust off their uniform.
The child was frozen in shock until Yan Yi touched their hair, prompting a sudden cry.
“Don’t cry.” Yan Yi wiped their tears, fingertips brushing their soft, pale face, recoiling slightly at the delicate texture.
A fragile little being—an awakened little spider omega.
The child clung to Yan Yi, sobbing, their milk-white face flushed like a translucent cherry.
“Why didn’t anyone bring you? Where are your parents?” Yan Yi held the child, patting their back gently, inwardly scolding such irresponsible guardians for letting such a small child cross the street alone.
The little omega sniffled: “My brother promised to take me to school this morning. I waited at the corner for so long, but he never came. I hate him.”
“Don’t cry, baby. Go to class now.” Yan Yi took a tissue from his coat pocket and wiped the child’s face, putting the rest in their uniform pocket.
“It’s okay… I’m strong,” the little spider said, trying to comfort Yan Yi while holding his hand.
A female beta teacher came running from the school, high heels clicking on the pavement. Seeing Shao Wenchi crying, her face turned pale. She rushed over, bowing deeply to thank Yan Yi.
“Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir! I’m Wenchi’s homeroom teacher.” She held the little omega’s shoulders and asked in great concern if they were hurt, her humility reminiscent of an intern spilling coffee on a CEO’s bespoke suit.
The child reassured her while still rubbing their tear-streaked eyes: “It’s okay…”
Normally, a child saved by a stranger would be guided to thank the rescuer, but this teacher clearly didn’t dare let Shao Wenchi speak to Yan Yi directly. She intended to get his contact information for proper thanks later.
Yan Yi hadn’t just saved a child—he had safeguarded the teacher’s career too. If anything happened near the school, who would bear the responsibility?
He didn’t respond, just patted the little one’s soft face and returned to his taxi.
The driver, impatient and unpaid, tapped the steering wheel. Yan Yi smiled wryly: “Sorry, charge by the time, please.”
The driver’s mood brightened. He hit the gas and chatted while driving:
“You’re an omega, yet nimble. Should wait here longer next time—maybe the child’s parents would appear. With these rich kids, any reward offered would be generous.”
That short burst had drained some of Yan Yi’s limited gland energy. He rested his head and closed his eyes briefly.
“Yes… judging by the teacher’s attitude, the child comes from a well-off family. If he’d been hit, the driver would have been in deep trouble.”
The driver nodded, flicking ash from his cigarette: “Right. These families could cover the sky. Mess up this, and you won’t come out of the police station alive.”
Yan Yi stared silently out the window for a while.
Looking down at his fingertips, he felt the lingering warmth from touching the child’s jelly-like face—a tiny, fragile, moving dessert, delicate and endearing, impossible not to protect.
The taxi stopped at the hospital entrance. A Porsche Panamera, usually parked outside the crumbling bar, was there. Xia Jingtian leaned against the door, playing with his phone and idly twirling the keys.
Seeing Yan Yi, he waved: “I’ll take you up.”
Yan Yi felt helpless, as if a stray kitten he had abandoned yesterday had reappeared at his doorstep today.
——
Several examinations took hours. Yan Yi sat on a bench waiting for results.
In truth, he had roughly guessed the outcome. Only about a month had passed since he and Lu Shangjin were together at the restaurant—too early for a real pregnancy.
The joy of having a little rabbit had clouded his thinking. He hadn’t considered other possibilities.
Xia Jingtian returned with a cup of hot water, handing it to Yan Yi to warm his cold hands, and sat beside him. “Look at me—now I feel like a terrible guy accompanying someone for an abortion.”
Yan Yi tugged at the corner of his lips: “Even a guy accompanying for an abortion isn’t the worst scum.”
“…I’m sorry… it’s my fault,” Xia Jingtian softened his voice. “If they handle the false pregnancy, it might hurt a bit. Don’t worry—I’ll take care of you until you recover.”
“It’s nothing. Not your responsibility.” Yan Yi lowered his gaze to the steaming cup in his hands, flicking a drop from the rim. “This pain… it’s nothing.”
Xia Jingtian had been watching him, noting his flawless face and faint gray, detached eyes. After a while, he reached out and gently touched Yan Yi’s obedient, drooping rabbit ears.
Yan Yi remained still, staring at the cup. To break the awkward quiet, he asked: “What did you study?”
“Architecture, with a minor in economics. My brother insisted I study it.” Xia Jingtian suddenly perked up, showing Yan Yi BIM models and engineering drawings on his phone. “These are all my work.”
On one screen, infinite space seemed to open, with colorful 3D architectural models that could be rotated and adjusted.
Yan Yi’s curiosity was piqued. He swiped across the screen: “You really made these yourself?”
Xia Jingtian showed his favorite European-style villa design. “Do you like it?”
Yan Yi examined it. The landscaping and architecture were thoughtful and creative.
He felt a little envious—by his age, he had already been learning how to twist a competitor’s neck barehanded.
“I like gardens… with mountains and water,” Yan Yi said, recalling what he had seen on TV.
“Chinese style?” Xia Jingtian flipped to a hand-drawn scan, colored with markers, a soft and harmonious classical villa.
Yan Yi’s eyes brightened as he examined it carefully.
“I’ll send it to you—take a good look.” Xia Jingtian added Yan Yi on WeChat. With few contacts, his messages were mostly cluttered by promotions and news, showing little use of the app or leisure interests.
When returning the phone, Xia Jingtian smirked: “Don’t block me after saving the images—you’re just freeloading.”
Yan Yi had no response to that.
——
Dr. Sun, examining Yan Yi, held the test reports and was about to call the nurse to bring him in. Suddenly, a nurse rushed over with the director’s phone mid-call, gesturing for Dr. Sun to answer.
“Hello?”
“Ah, Mr. Shao, hello, hello.”
“The lop-eared rabbit omega? Yes, yes, he had his check-up here.”
“Ah?”
Dr. Sun froze for a moment, then hurried to the consultation room and closed the door, lowering his voice:
“…but this doesn’t comply with our hospital regulations…”
“…oh, oh…”
“Oh… okay, okay. I see. You go ahead.”