Lu Shangjin rested his head on the steering wheel for a while, drifting in and out of sleep, his suit—still the one he hadn’t had time to change—creasing at the back and along the legs.
Rubbing his face as he stirred into wakefulness, he realized he hadn’t shaved in several days. He leaned to the passenger seat for a spare razor. The little rabbit’s skin was soft and tender; he couldn’t risk pricking it while comforting him.
After smoothing out the neck and chin, Lu Shangjin loosened his tie with one hand. Previously, he couldn’t tolerate even a slightly crooked tie clip; now he let the tie hang carelessly, rumpled and relaxed.
The holidays were over, and the children were gradually being dropped off by their parents.
Outside the school gates, Lu Shangjin’s vehicle was a modest Toyota, unremarkable among the sea of luxury cars, a pebble unnoticed in a flowing river. He focused on detecting that faint scent of mandala pheromone near the school, suspecting a driver would deliver the little spider.
Ten minutes later, he froze, lifting his head as the familiar scent grew closer.
He remembered childhood milk candies: in a big box of milk candies, the little rabbit had suddenly popped out, sticky and clinging, calling him “Brother Jin,” and shoved a sweet, milky candy into his mouth.
Panicked, Lu Shangjin pushed open the car door, nearly misstepping, eyes scanning the dense crowd. A child holding a milk popsicle ran past, the rich dairy aroma hitting Lu Shangjin straight in the heart.
His vision blurred. Hope flared and was extinguished repeatedly, like iron repeatedly bent until finally snapping in half.
He glanced at himself in the rearview mirror; his eyes were veiled with a layer of watery despair.
Suddenly, he recalled a morning at home when Yan Yi had been in the kitchen, wearing an apron and washing dishes.
The trash bin was full of uneaten food.
Yan Yi had hurriedly wiped his hands and stepped out upon seeing him, opening his mouth as if to ask something, hesitating, before finally asking only:
“Are you hungry?”
Now thinking back, those somber eyes had been filled with silent grievance. Lu Shangjin had never considered how painful it might be to prepare a sumptuous dinner only to receive a message saying, “Not coming tonight.”
He wanted desperately to go back.
To finish all the untouched food, leaving not a drop of sauce. To hold the little rabbit close, showering him with all the affection he’d withheld over the years.
Leaning silently against the car door, his fingers dug into the seal of the window.
When he raised his eyes, he thought he had imagined it.
Across the crowded school entrance, on the bustling street, he immediately spotted the familiar slender figure removing a helmet, grey hair lifted by the wind, two little rabbit ears standing up, smoothing out the dents pressed by the helmet.
“Yan Yan!” Lu Shangjin couldn’t help himself and rushed forward, parting the crowd with loud calls, “Yan Yan!”
Where his gaze landed, the fragile, soft body was suddenly enveloped by a pair of arms.
Lu Shangjin froze, stunned.
Shao Wenjing, dressed in tight leather, sat on a motorcycle, holding Yan Yi’s waist from behind. With one hand he removed the helmet and affectionately kissed Yan Yi’s little ear.
Yan Yi didn’t reciprocate, but he didn’t resist either.
He bent down, took out a bag of handmade milk candies from his pocket, carefully tucked it into Wen Chi’s backpack, softly instructing: “Share them with your friends; if you eat them all yourself, you’ll get cavities.”
The little spider obediently nodded, hugging Yan Yi’s neck affectionately, pleading in a coquettish tone: “Can Brother pick me up on Friday too?”
Yan Yi curved his eyes into a smile, stroking his soft hair: “Alright, pay attention in class.”
Shao Wenjing tilted one corner of his mouth, revealing a fang: “If any alpha kids at school bully you, remember to fight back. If you can’t, call for backup—telling the teacher is too boring.”
Yan Yi shot him a “shut up” glance, pushing Wen Chi’s small backpack: “Go now.”
The little spider happily bounded away, running with classmates to wait at the crosswalk.
Yan Yi watched him with concern, unable to bear letting such a small child cross the road alone. True concern couldn’t be faked. Shao Wenjing gazed at Yan Yi’s profile, unconsciously pulling him closer, whispering: “Let’s go back; we shouldn’t stay outside the manor too long.”
“Yan Yan!”
The urgent shout startled both of them.
Lu Shangjin had wound through the crowd and traffic, hurrying toward them, his pallid, haggard face and hoarse voice laced with unbearable pain.
Yan Yi looked at him in surprise and unfamiliarity, glancing behind himself, confused.
“Was he calling me?”
Yan Yi regarded Lu Shangjin sympathetically; such a handsome alpha, yet clearly unwell.
Shao Wenjing froze briefly, then smiled maliciously.
In the past, when people mentioned Lu Shangjin, the first word that came to mind was “impeccable.” Nothing could ever seem out of place on him.
He wanted to capture this ragged state and show it to friends in the circle.
Then, right in front of Lu Shangjin, Shao Wenjing kissed Yan Yi’s cheek.
He had intended to kiss his lips, but Yan Yi had awkwardly avoided him. It didn’t matter; he knew Lu Shangjin couldn’t withstand this.
The scene hit him like a blow, leaving him completely unprepared, heart shattering.
Lu Shangjin’s chest heaved violently, eyes glaring with such intensity it seemed they might tear.
Someone had smudged filthy fingerprints over his most precious Qinghua porcelain.
In the past, he would have shattered the porcelain rather than allow anyone to touch it.
Now, his only concern was whether Yan Yi had been forced or threatened, whether this was true hatred expressed in a way that hurt him.
“Where are you going?” Lu Shangjin saw Yan Yi climb onto the motorcycle’s back seat and, in horror, watched Shao Wenjing place his hand on Yan Yi’s waist, letting him hold on as the throttle roared and the motorcycle vanished.
“Yan Yan! Yan Yan! Don’t you recognize me?!” Lu Shangjin chased after the retreating bike, halted by the green light and the traffic.
His vision darkened, his legs weakened; he stumbled, squatting by the traffic light.
Yan Yi’s confused yet sympathetic gaze haunted him; the eyes were distant and calm, strangers from another world who had never intersected with his.
“Ugh.”
A small hand was extended toward him, holding a milk candy.
Shao Wenchi crouched in front of him, tilting his head to study him, shyly offering the candy: “For you.”
Lu Shangjin froze, cradling the candy like a treasure.
He watched Wen Chi bounce across the street, four alpha bodyguards trailing at a distance.
Desperate, he tried to start his car to follow, but his trembling hands forgot how to insert the key.
He took a clean tissue, carefully wrapping the candy in layers, concentrating as if he were sculpting an exquisite gemstone.
The sweet scent of the candy leaked faintly through the tissue.
Unable to resist, Lu Shangjin tore it open, devouring the small candy, chewing slowly, fiercely, as though afraid that finishing it too quickly would lose its impact. His jaws ached from the forceful chewing, like a wolf tearing at flesh.
What was happening to him?
A buzzing pain filled his head, leaving a blank emptiness.
Why hadn’t the little rabbit run over to cling to him?
Why had he gone with someone else?
Didn’t want him anymore?
——
He had to find out what had happened.
He would no longer misunderstand Yan Yi.
But he still couldn’t locate Shao Wenjing.
Since Shao Wenjing rode away with Yan Yi, their pheromones had vanished as if evaporated. Lu Shangjin had scoured every corner of Nanqi but found no trace at all.
He wanted to ask the little spider omega.
But the school was strictly controlled, militarized, and the little spider was always accompanied by bodyguards; there was no chance to approach him.
So for three full days, he had focused on monitoring a suspended female teacher.
The car didn’t need to enter the community; the teacher’s living room and master bedroom faced outward, on the first floor. With Lu Shangjin’s eyesight, he could easily observe her slightest movements.
She had a young beta daughter, also suspended, who mostly stayed with her mother; she had met Master Chen once more in those three days.
Lu Shangjin discarded an empty cigarette pack, lit the last cigarette from the pale blue flame in his palm, eyes following her as she walked a hundred or two meters away.
Jiang Xiaohong deliberately brought Master Chen to an empty corner, looking around before slipping a rolled-up leather folder into his hands.
Master Chen weighed the folder, smiling at Jiang Xiaohong: “We’ll split the bonus later.” He turned and drove off at full throttle.
“Ah…” Jiang Xiaohong staggered two steps forward, trembling fingers on her chest, yet she didn’t back out.
She took several deep breaths to steady her anxious heart, only to turn and be blocked by a black piece of metal.
Jiang Xiaohong screamed, stumbling back two steps, looking up along the gun barrel. Lu Shangjin sat atop a low wall, holding a Souct rifle without the scope, the barrel pressing coldly under her chin.
Jiang Xiaohong froze, slowly raising her hands.
She had no concept of firearms; being threatened at the neck felt like playing a VR version of PUBG, a pro gamer raining judgment from a forty-five-degree angle above.
The cold barrel against her skin, the thick scent of gunpowder, and the aggressive alpha pheromones all told her how dangerous this man was.
For a civilian, especially a beta, this was a once-in-a-lifetime terrifying encounter.
Lu Shangjin didn’t waste words. Directly, he said: “You wanted that driver to report clues about the high-level omega glands to take revenge on Shao Wenjing.”
She didn’t dare report it herself; she knew the consequences. If Shao Wenjing caught even a trace, she wouldn’t survive, let alone keep her job.
Jiang Xiaohong, already a bird startled by a bow, had her secret plan exposed in front of her. Raising her voice in panic, she looked at Lu Shangjin: “No… I only asked Master Chen to give them the information… Shao Wenjing’s background is too strong… those gland hunters could never touch Shao Wenchi… I… I just needed money…”
Covering her face, she wept uncontrollably: “You didn’t see how terrifying those debt collectors with knives were… my daughter and I could only hide in the bathroom, too scared to make a sound. I’ve had enough… that useless man’s debts fall on us… I still have my mortgage, care for my parents and child…”
She had once been able to support her fragile household, but now life seemed pitch-black, endless.
Her crying stirred Lu Shangjin’s agitation, manic impulses on the brink of eruption.
He grabbed her jaw, covering her mouth, breathing heavily, eyes wide with exposed whites, hysterically warning:
“Don’t bother me, please, ah—!”