Yan Yi stood by the kitchen counter, a pristine apron covering half of his butler uniform, wearing soft, light brown suede slippers. He took a half-box of curry cubes from the drawer, broke off three pieces, and let them steep in the fragrant beef broth. Then he unscrewed a bottle of coconut milk and poured a bit in for seasoning.
While waiting for it to cook, Yan Yi’s lips curled into a faint smile as he drifted into a brief daze. Soon, he carefully removed the carrot-shaped brooch from his chest, breathed on it, and wiped it with a white napkin to keep its diamond-cut surface spotless.
Once more, he carefully pinned the brooch back on.
The curry simmered, releasing aromatic steam that drifted upward. Yan Yi removed the brooch again, wrapped it in a napkin, and safely tucked it into his pocket, unwilling to let the beautiful carrot lose its shine from the smoke.
Through the kitchen’s glass door, Lu Shangjin could see the slender little rabbit busy cooking, his head lowered to reveal a section of flawless neck, entirely unguarded, and the tender heels of his feet brushing lightly against the suede slippers.
Every inch of his skin was something Lu Shangjin had kissed, and his soft, uninhibited manner had been savored countless nights.
For a moment, Lu Shangjin felt that Yan Yi was still as enchanting as ten years ago, only a little less youthful in temperament, but still effortlessly alluring.
Lu Shangjin stepped closer, peering through the glass.
When had he stopped feeling the thrill of walking alongside this little rabbit in the public eye? He couldn’t remember.
From some point on, he no longer enjoyed the attention that came from being with Yan Yi, no longer wanted other alphas to notice this beautiful omega. He had to admit, Yan Yi was an attractive, flirtatious omega, with no shortage of alphas vying for him.
Keeping Yan Yi home, not letting him go out, was an act of possessive alpha control. But the outside world was dazzling; it would be easy for Yan Yi to lose himself and forget the promises they had once cherished as teenagers.
The little rabbit treasured the brooch, unsure where to keep it. His lively expression betrayed him, confirming that Yan Yi had never left, and Lu Shangjin felt emboldened.
Almost instinctively, Lu Shangjin opened the glass door and gently wrapped his arms around Yan Yi’s slender waist from behind, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.
Yan Yi froze completely, as if paralyzed by a ghost pressing on him, yet the moment was a tender, pink-hued dream.
“Sir…?” Yan Yi blinked, slowly confirming the familiar embrace from behind. The rich scent of narcissus enveloped him, as if he were standing in a soft, fragrant sea of flowers, a gentle breeze caressing his face.
He could hardly believe it. He turned to look up at Lu Shangjin and, in the next instant, flung himself into his arms, wrapping his soft little hands around Lu Shangjin’s waist and burying his head in his shoulder, holding on like a precious treasure he had lost for years. In a small, quivering voice, he said, “Don’t punish me… I’m sorry.”
He had waited so many years for this embrace.
Yan Yi pressed into Lu Shangjin’s chest like a young rabbit seeking warmth from its mother.
He wasn’t ready yet, and he didn’t adjust his posture to appear coquettish or alluring to please Lu Shangjin. His mind was blank, with only one thought: to hold Lu Shangjin and draw in the lost years of gentle warmth.
Lu Shangjin patted his slender back lightly.
Yet the expected tenderness didn’t arrive. Lu Shangjin felt exhausted even releasing a bit of soothing pheromones for Yan Yi. The excitement he once felt had faded. The candy-sweet scent of his pheromones barely matched Lu Shangjin’s own, like passing strangers whose paths never cross again.
This was what it meant to not love anymore.
No matter how often one tried to rekindle it, not loving meant not loving—there was no feeling, just a sense of duty.
Yan Yi could sense the distance, and lifted his head hesitantly, his damp eyes searching Lu Shangjin’s indifferent lips, wanting to hear something, yet instinctively dreading words that might hurt.
“Let’s cook,” Lu Shangjin said, brushing Yan Yi’s cheek casually. “I’ll stay with you.”
Yan Yi pressed his lips together, gripping his own thin arm with his left hand, lowering his eyelids. “I already checked at the hospital. If there’s a suitable gland, I’ll try it.”
Lu Shangjin gave him a ridiculous look. “You’re no ordinary omega. Your glands alone could fetch two billion on the black market. What are you trying?”
Yan Yi’s throat tightened, and the more he tried to answer calmly, the harder it became to speak. “I want one slightly more compatible… even five percent more.”
“Stop joking.” Lu Shangjin pressed his nose to Yan Yi’s neck, hands resting on his slim waist. “You’re an omega. Changing glands will ruin you. Those hospital ads lie. It’s dangerous—do it and you might not survive. Don’t even think about it.”
“If you don’t mind…” Yan Yi lowered his ears obediently and stirred the curry with a long-handled spoon.
Lu Shangjin kissed his sensitive earlobe. “I don’t mind.”
Yan Yi was lifted onto the countertop. After so many years, Lu Shangjin finally agreed to be intimate with him again.
He sensed the impatience in Lu Shangjin’s touch, his long fingers gently supporting Yan Yi’s face. He followed obediently, trying to soothe: “Sir… I’m yours… take it slow. Do you want me to spread more?”
He felt pain, as if being toyed with by a careless client—someone who never valued the plaything beneath him, with no attachment, no need to care.
Yet he did not want to dampen Lu Shangjin’s mood, so he endured silently.
Rabbits are sensitive to pain; what would be mildly uncomfortable for others was excruciating for Yan Yi.
Unintentionally, Lu Shangjin caused him countless moments of pain, watching his reddened, tear-filled eyes.
Lu Shangjin’s expression remained blank. He knew the torment he inflicted stemmed from desire—more painful than a slap: one was precise and sharp, the other deadly sweet.
Yan Yi was like a piece of chewed gum, stuck to his hand: impossible to tear off, impossible to clean, yet had once been sweet. A memory to savor, now tasteless.
Yan Yi bit his lips until they bled, and in a daze, his lower body was roughly parted.
He was not in heat; his lower body remained tightly shut, yet was forcibly opened.
He felt like a dishcloth torn in half for convenience.
He was willing to bear Lu Shangjin’s child.
But he also hoped Lu Shangjin would grant him a mark—so that other alphas, recognizing the pheromone imprint, would show deference and respect. Yan Yi longed for a reliable, gentle alpha husband who would hold and comfort him when he needed it.
He wanted a family, not this empty villa that occasionally hosted other omegas for one-night affairs.
Yet he dared not ask for a mark, for it would anger Lu Shangjin.
He could only wait day after day, hoping the prodigal would return, hoping for repentance.
Lu Shangjin’s interest was as flat as their compatibility. After one encounter, he dressed neatly, answered a phone call, and left for an evening banquet.
“I’ll be back later,” he said.
Yan Yi wrapped himself in a thin down blanket, the villa silent once more, clutching the sparkling carrot brooch to his chest.
He had received a gift, an embrace, and a kiss today.
He uncorked a bottle of wine to commemorate it.
Sitting at the dining table before a lavish meal, he poured himself a glass of red wine and drank half the bottle silently, resting his head on the table. His rabbit ears flopped limply over the edge.
“Belated happy birthday to me… twenty-seven years old, I’ll take good care of myself.”
He lit a cigarette, holding it between his lips absentmindedly, his almond-shaped eyes wandering until they landed on the hands of the quartz clock.
Perhaps nothing else—neglect, slights, or frustration—ever left him this choked up. The deepest childhood wound was believing in a gift, only to open the box and find it empty.
His alpha did not love him, did not love Yuan Mi—he only loved himself.