The bedroom door was gently pulled open. Yan Yi stood on the carpet at the doorway, clutching his pajamas tightly, his eyes wide in surprise at the two of them.
The little spider omega stopped crying, sniffling as he looked back at Yan Yi.
After staring blankly for a few seconds, he timidly reached out a small hand toward Yan Yi.
Yan Yi widened his eyes, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to take the child from Shao Wenjing’s arms.
“Bunny.” Shao Wenci pressed against Yan Yi’s neck, his soft, cheese-like little face rubbing gently in the crook of Yan Yi’s neck.
Yan Yi’s stunned eyes slowly brightened with life. He patted the little one in his arms and gently released soothing pheromones, softly coaxing, “Don’t cry anymore.”
“Mm.” Wenci obediently pursed his lips, his fair little face puckering as he softly explained to Yan Yi, “He’s not a bad brother. He usually doesn’t bully anyone, so don’t be afraid of him.”
Shao Wenjing raised an eyebrow with a light smile, resting gentlemanly against the doorframe with his arms folded. “Oh, of course. You should remember, I am a very good person.”
Master Wenci suddenly ran over as the chef prepared a few extra dishes. Shao Wenjing instructed the bodyguards to clear all traces of Wenci’s pheromones outside the estate to prevent Lu Shangjin from taking advantage.
With everything in order, Shao Wenjing turned back just in time to see Yan Yi seated at the dining table with Wenci. Wenci obediently held a small ceramic spoon, eating quietly. Yan Yi peeled a shrimp, split it in two, and placed it into the little bowl.
Blinking his big eyes, Wenci chirpily said thank you.
His milky, soft face had a tiny drop of tomato sauce, and on his palm-sized face were a pair of dark, glossy eyes. Like his older brother, their eyes reflected a metallic sheen. He was an adorably clueless little spider, staring at everything around him with curiosity.
Yan Yi paused for a moment, pursing his lips in a small smile, and scooped a spoonful of corn into his empty plate, adding two pieces of green vegetables.
Wenci frowned at the vegetables, hesitatingly whispering, “This isn’t tasty.”
Yan Yi gently propped his chin in his hand, looking at him warmly. “It’s good for your health. If you eat a little, you won’t get red pimples on your face when you grow up.”
“Mm.” Wenci hesitated for a moment, then opened his mouth.
“Good boy.” Yan Yi picked up a leaf and fed it to Wenci, scraping a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth with the tip of the chopsticks.
Receiving praise, Wenci’s cheeks puffed out, and his large eyes curved into a crescent.
“If you spoil him once, he’ll want to be fed every day,” Shao Wenjing appeared behind them like a lingering shadow, hands resting on the back of Wenci’s chair, leaning down to scold, “Shao Wenci, eat by yourself.”
“Hmph, annoying chicken,” Wenci muttered, clumsily peeling a shrimp with his tiny fingers, quickly covering his child’s sleeves in tomato sauce, eating with relish.
Shao Wenjing leaned over to stroke Yan Yi’s hair and ear, then sat opposite him at the table, deftly peeling two shrimps with just the tips of his chopsticks—one for Wenci, the other into Yan Yi’s bowl.
“I don’t know which vegetables you like, so I had them make extra. There’s fish and shrimp too, to nourish you,” Shao Wenjing said, peeling a few more shrimp onto the plate. His hands remained impeccably clean; the fine motor control of a spider was indeed astonishing.
Yan Yi stared at Shao Wenjing’s slender right hand, lost in thought for a while.
His memories were sometimes fuzzy, sometimes clear. He recalled having dinner with an alpha once—back then, his alpha’s hands weren’t this smooth. His hands were scarred from shrapnel, and he often cut himself while peeling shrimp, leaving tiny wounds, and placing the shredded shrimp into Yan Yi’s bowl.
Who was that alpha in his memory?
Was it Shao Wenjing?
It seemed not. Perhaps it was some alpha he had been involved with before; he couldn’t remember.
Feeling guilty, Yan Yi thought he shouldn’t be thinking about other alphas when he already had a family.
Shao Wenjing placed the last shrimp into Yan Yi’s bowl.
Wenci blinked in surprise—his brother always saved the best for himself. But later he realized that the little bunny should eat more because he looked so sad.
Yan Yi ate only a little before giving up and washed his hands, returning directly to the bedroom.
Lying on his side, curling up in bed, he stared blankly.
He suddenly touched his small belly.
There should be a little baby there too.
Where had it gone?
He closed his eyes, confused, as chaotic images swirled in his mind, colors blending into black.
A warm little body was placed in his arms. Yan Yi slowly opened his eyes and saw Shao Wenjing handing over the sleeping Wenci to him.
The little spider had just bathed; his small hands and face were warm, his long eyelashes lowered obediently. Sensing Yan Yi’s pheromones, he pressed closer, nestling into Yan Yi’s crook of the arm.
Shao Wenjing sat at the edge of the bed, lightly stroking Wenci’s soft hair, and spoke in a quiet voice: “My parents were killed by gland hunters when Wenci was only a year and a half. Ever since he could speak, he’s been asking when my fathers would come back.”
“I couldn’t explain it to him, so I just told him his fathers became stars watching over him. Not very creative, I know,” Shao Wenjing smiled gently, calmly as if telling someone else’s story.
“He’s my most important family,” Shao Wenjing touched Wenci’s jelly-like face with his finger. “You saved him. I’m sorry—I really didn’t know before.”
Yan Yi shook his head; he didn’t remember.
He held Wenci in his arms, releasing gentle pheromones so the fragile little omega felt safe and calm.
The little face in his arms was fair and beautiful, like a porcelain doll. The omega looked delicate indeed.
Yan Yi cautiously lifted his fingertips to touch the soft little back.
It was almost too beautiful to believe.
If he had a child too, it would surely be a little bunny just as cute. He vowed to protect this fragile little omega from any harm.
Exhausted, Yan Yi fell asleep, holding Wenci in his arms.
Shao Wenjing pulled a thin blanket over them, leaned over to inspect the little white bunny’s peaceful face, curling him protectively into his arms.
The little bunny looked serene and delicate, seemingly twenty-seven according to records but still youthful in appearance.
He touched Yan Yi’s forehead, pressing a kiss onto the back of his hand.
“…I’m sorry.”
He quietly closed the bedroom door, fetched a suit and a deep purple tie. Some friends who had kept in touch while abroad had just returned, and Shao Wenjing prepared a welcome dinner for them in the estate’s private restaurant.
It took twenty minutes by car. He called Wenci’s school principal about the near-accident, his tone cold and stern.
One friend had brought a pastry chef; they made twelve small desserts for afternoon tea. Shao Wenjing didn’t usually enjoy sweets, but a honey mango mille-feuille caught his eye. He joked with the chef in the kitchen for a moment and packed two freshly made desserts to take home.
The chef smiled while slicing mango. “You must have kids at home, right? Kids love this dessert.”
Shao Wenjing leaned against the doorway, hands in pockets, eyes curved in a gentle smile. “Yes. Two.”
Back at the residence, he saw from a distance Yan Yi holding Wenci under the maple tree in the courtyard. Wenci’s backpack lay upside down on the bench. He held an English homework book, frowning as Yan Yi explained things.
Yan Yi used an automatic pencil to write notes in the margins, carefully explaining grammar in clear, understandable lines.
After a while, Wenci fell asleep in Yan Yi’s arms.
A small forehead bumped against him, and Shao Wenjing sat beside them, shaking Wenci awake. “You little rascal, weren’t paying attention at all. Do you sleep in class at school too?”
Wenci covered his head, glaring at Shao Wenjing, then immediately clung back to Yan Yi, proudly boasting, “Bunny taught me to say ‘I love you’ in eight languages.”
Shao Wenjing looked at Yan Yi holding Wenci, amusement in his eyes. He hadn’t expected the little bunny to be more than a killing machine and began reassessing him.
He took out two round, thin cardboard boxes. Wenci’s eyes lit up, and he immediately grabbed one, sitting on the bench to untie the ribbon. “What’s the gift today?”
Yan Yi took the pastry box in a daze. Opening the ribbon, the fragrance of mango and honey filled the air.
Receiving the gift, he felt flustered.
Shao Wenjing rested a hand on the bench back, eyes slightly raised. “Can I hear you say ‘I love you’ in eight languages?”
Yan Yi opened his mouth, then lowered his head again.
He couldn’t speak such openly emotional words to others.
“I love you,” “I like you”—words of such intensity were impossible for him to say.
Wenci, holding a small spoon, looked between Yan Yi and his brother. Seeing how awkward his brother was, he stuffed a big spoonful of honey mango into his mouth and loudly said, “ILOVEU!”
Shao Wenjing scooped him up, kissing his cheek. “Iloveuhoney.”
Yan Yi bowed his head, quietly eating his dessert.
This life was comfortable and safe, the peace he longed for. Yet it also carried a faint sadness—some things had been scattered by the wind, lost, leaving no memory behind.
During the May Day holiday, the school was unusually quiet. Even the wisteria outside the corridors hung like cascades of purple, mingling with the warm air. Looking through the glass at the empty classrooms, the chairs sat neatly upside down on the desks.
Only a few offices were staffed. From the principal’s office came stern scolding.
Shao Wenci’s homeroom teacher, Ms. Jiang, was suspended for concealing Wenci’s near-accident.
Jiang Xiaohong was harshly reprimanded and later required to attend a grade-wide meeting to address teacher negligence.
Shao Wenjing only demanded that the principal take the matter seriously, but the principal, eager to curry favor, misunderstood and suspended Ms. Jiang directly.
High heels trapped in a stone crack, Jiang Xiaohong stumbled, twisting her ankle painfully, bending over on the ground for a while.
She eventually limped to the roadside, placing her high heels aside, burying her head in her arms to sob.
Shao Wenci was unharmed. Why did Shao Wenjing take out his anger on her? Could such an unworldly, superior person understand the hardships of her life?
Did he truly cut off the livelihood of an ordinary family for his little brother?
Why?
Why are there so many happy couples in the world, yet her marriage ended in ruin?
She sat on the roadside, crying, her long-suppressed grievances flooding out, unaware of the Bentley ten meters away.
Lu Shangjin sat in the driver’s seat, quietly watching her.
He had just come from Yan Yi’s last medical check-up. Perhaps the hospital was uneasy—no doctor’s signature appeared on the report.
But he could trace the remaining pheromones to find the doctor who had prepared the report.
He wanted to know the depth of malice that could make a doctor deceive a little bunny desperate for a child.
Dr. Sun was cornered by Lu Shangjin in the bathroom, the door locked.
Lu Shangjin pressed his head into the sink filled with cold water, questioning him in a low, chilling voice.
Half-dead from the ordeal, Dr. Sun finally trembled out the name “Shao Zong.”
Lu Shangjin suddenly understood.
Shao Wenjing had been quietly sowing discord. His methods were so covert that the rifts between them had deepened unnoticed, until they drifted apart.
Shao Wenjing’s target was Yan Yi’s A3 gland.
And he had failed to protect Yan Yi.
Gripping the steering wheel, Lu Shangjin’s eyes reddened almost to the point of bleeding. He couldn’t sleep, and whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Yan Yi’s trembling pleas for help, remembered the helpless face, remembered that day he had pinned the little bunny to the ground, making him suffer unbearably.
Is my little bunny okay?
Pressing his hand to his chest, his heart ached in threads.
He wanted to rescue the little bunny, bring him home, love him properly, care for him diligently. He would ensure the little bunny never had to live in fear again, never had to love him with such struggle.
He wanted to tell the little bunny, “I’m sorry.” It was his fault—all his fault. He would reflect on his recklessness, his coldness, his neglect over the years.
Who would be hurt by him?
His anger and indifference might not matter to strangers, but only those closest would worry, would feel pain from his sharp words, would be pierced by his hidden thorns. Only those who loved him deeply would give up everything for him.
He had completely failed—betrayed a once pure, romantic heart.
The teacher on the roadside had been crying for ten minutes, making Lu Shangjin even more agitated.
He sat in a daze for a moment, wishing he could just sit on the curb and cry if not for fear of the news.
Following a trace of mandala pheromones, Lu Shangjin located a spider omega similar to Shao Wenjing’s, roughly within this elementary school. But since it was holiday, no students were around.
The female teacher came from this school. Lu Shangjin considered how to question her without alarming anyone.
A taxi stopped in front of her before Lu Shangjin could act.
Jiang Xiaohong waved, covering her mouth and sobbing, refusing to get in.
The driver rolled down the window. “Teacher Jiang, why are you here?”
Hearing the familiar voice, Jiang Xiaohong looked up. “Master Chen? You’re driving… a taxi?”
Previously, Master Chen had been transporting Wenci. Jiang Xiaohong saw him often, always greeting him.
Master Chen smiled wryly. “I got fired by the boss, probably same as you. I see your foot’s hurt, so get in. I’m just switching shifts. We’ll find a place to talk.”
“Thank you, thank you, Master Chen.” Jiang Xiaohong looked around and got into the taxi, holding her heels.
With his exceptional vision and lip-reading, Lu Shangjin could understand their conversation.
After the taxi left, he started the car and followed.
Master Chen helped Jiang into a small restaurant, and Lu Shangjin followed.
The moment they entered, the smell of cooking filled the air. His sharp eyesight allowed him to see thousands of bacteria through uncleaned surfaces.
He ignored it and sat in the corner, casually ordering two dishes, focusing on listening to them vent.
“Shao Laoban fired me. I usually pick up Wenci from school. One day, the boss promised to take him, but then skipped it. The kid was stubborn—I tried persuading him, but he didn’t get in, so he ran himself.” Master Chen gulped beer, sighing sharply.
“I thought it was such a short distance; missing one day shouldn’t matter. My mom had fallen in the bathroom that day, so I rushed to the hospital. I couldn’t follow him.”
“Who knew something would happen? Even stepping back, Wenci came back safely, unharmed.”
Jiang only cried.
The restaurant was busy and chaotic; occasionally, flyers were discreetly handed out at each table.
Lu Shangjin received one too. He picked it up—it was a recent bounty notice from the Gland Hunter Club.
Gland hunters profited by searching for high-level glands, moving through every corner of the city. High-level glands were rare; a few hunters alone could not track them reliably.
They mobilized the public, offering rewards for reliable tips and additional bonuses for successful captures.
Jiang Xiaohong, with low alcohol tolerance, noticed the small flyer and whispered to Master Chen, “By the way, there’s something you probably don’t know. During a checkup, I peeked at Shao Wenci’s file. Guess what I saw…”
“Saw what?” Master Chen chewed peanuts, sipping his drink.
“Shao Wenci’s gland differentiation potential is actually M2.”
Master Chen choked on his beer.
Lu Shangjin’s expression shifted slightly.
No wonder the little spider was always accompanied by the scent of a high-level alpha. The bodyguards arranged by Shao Wenjing were strictly protecting him. The little spider’s glands had not yet developed or upgraded and couldn’t protect himself.
School medical reports were immediately sealed, with strict rules forbidding any institution from privately testing minors’ gland levels. Pheromone detection needles were illegal.
Files would never indicate differentiation potential.
Lu Shangjin narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the morally questionable teacher.
Then he saw her secretly fold a flyer and slip it into her bag.