The room was lit by a single lamp, revealing only an iron-barred bed. Xia Jingtian lay on the mattress, his right hand shackled to the headboard.
Bored, he flipped through Yan Yi’s notebook.
During these days of confinement, Xia Jingtian had gone over the palm-sized notebook more than ten times; it was starting to look worn.
Gu Wei had been right—no romance, no trouble.
The little rabbit was sweet, but his heart wasn’t with him.
One page was streaked with tears, the words “Brother Jin got hurt for me” written in smudged ink, followed by zeros—he might as well have given Lu Shangjin ten thousand points.
He knew it—his impulsive pursuit could never compete with the decades-long bond of childhood friends.
A rustling came from the square window by the head of the bed. The window latch was pulled open by some unseen force, and Xia Pingtian slipped inside, placing a thermal lunchbox beside him.
“Pork rib soup, eat it while it’s hot.” Xia Pingtian stood at the worn bed, looking down at him, bruises all over from being beaten with iron rods. From his pocket, he pulled out a box of medicinal plasters and tossed it onto Xia Jingtian.
“See? I told you. Didn’t I say not to go causing trouble? You probably made Dad angry.” Xia Pingtian paced the confinement room, frustrated.
Xia Jingtian propped himself up against the iron bars, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand. “I was busy sending Lu Shangjin’s location at the time, didn’t have time to avoid Dad. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have caught me.”
Xia Pingtian pressed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead.
“Brother, I want to join the military.”
The unexpected words made Xia Pingtian pause. He sat silently at the foot of the bed and lit a cigarette.
“That life’s harsh,” he exhaled. “Focus on school for now. Graduate, and if you don’t want to do anything else, you can work for me. Or study abroad, start your own business—it’s up to you.”
“I want to join PBB,” Xia Jingtian repeated deliberately, trying to harden himself in front of his brother.
While searching all night for Yan Yi’s whereabouts, he had also noticed things he hadn’t before.
In recent years, missing person notices were everywhere—many omegas disappeared without a trace, as if vanishing from the world.
Most missing omegas were around J1 differentiation level, clearly linked to gland hunters.
The world’s dark corners harbored filth beyond the sight of young masters in ivory towers.
“Finish school first,” Xia Pingtian said after thinking. “The situation is unstable. Lu Lin might try to seize Gu Yuanzhi’s power. PBB is turbulent right now… even we can’t gauge how deep the waters run.”
“Then plead with Dad to let me out,” Xia Jingtian suggested as a compromise. “I just want to see Lu Shangjin one last time—won’t cause trouble for you.”
Xia Pingtian frowned. “Dad’s furious. Says you’ve ruined the Xia family’s face over a rabbit. If I plead now, I’ll probably get shackled next to you.”
“…This is suffocating,” Xia Jingtian muttered, folding his legs and bowing his head.
“Huh, finally feeling suffocated?” Xia Pingtian scoffed.
As his younger brother lowered his defiant gaze, something softened inside him.
“Eat first, I’ll figure out the rest.”
Xia Pingtian’s phone buzzed—Lu Shangjin.
“Lu Ge.”
Xia Jingtian lowered his head to eat, but upon recognizing the voice, he looked up and silently asked his brother: “Found him?”
Xia Pingtian mouthed back: “None of your business.”
The voice on the line sounded almost helpless:
“Pingtian, can rabbit depression be treated?”
By the time Xia Pingtian reached Anfia, Lu Shangjin had been sitting on a lobby bench for some time, pressing his overworked, sore eyes.
A few senior professors gathered in the conference room, inquiring about Lu Shangjin’s condition.
“Sometimes he recognizes me, sometimes he doesn’t.”
“I went to peel him an apple, and when I came back, he was cutting his wrists with a blade. Not suicide—self-harm.”
“Frequent outbursts, breaking anything in sight before calming down.”
“He’s sleeping in the wardrobe now. I’ll need to return soon.”
The professors exchanged glances, advising Lu Shangjin to use soothing pheromones consistently. With constant care, his condition could gradually improve.
Lu Shangjin collapsed into a chair, holding his head in pain.
That spider had poured all its soothing pheromones on his brother. Yan Yan’s gaze admired the jewelry at the counter, the new clothes on the runway—but not a person.
A young doctor suggested overwriting the mark: “If your compatibility with the patient exceeds that of the original marker, you may overwrite it. But failure is possible.”
The room fell silent.
Xia Pingtian gave the doctor a look and patted Lu Shangjin on the shoulder.
It felt like a dull blade slicing back and forth through Lu Shangjin’s heart.
“Compatibility…” he murmured, gripping the table. “Ours… is very low.”
The decision was for Lu Shangjin to return home to care for the patient, monitor him, and have doctors check periodically.
The young doctor whispered to Xia Pingtian on the way out, eyes sparkling: “Is this the Lu Shao who used to deal in arms and then went straight? I saw their helicopter abroad—those Falcon badges were impressive.”
Xia Pingtian draped an arm over the doctor’s shoulder. “Kid, that overwrite suggestion—Lu Shangjin could chop you a hundred times for it. He’s in no mood right now.”
The doctor’s curiosity persisted: “How low exactly?”
Xia Pingtian glanced behind them, then said jokingly: “75%. Never heard of a couple that low managing to be together. Look at Lu Shangjin—everyone’s worried for him.”
“75%? Why even bother?” the doctor murmured. “Never seen such low compatibility.”
“Talk less. Go wait in the office.” Xia Pingtian pinched his chin, holding him close. “Keep your mouth shut.”
The new recruit was a gland research expert, returning from overseas. Luckily, Lu Shangjin hadn’t been angered—otherwise, the little one might not have survived.
Lu Shangjin couldn’t linger outside. He hadn’t arranged anyone to care for Yan Yi, and ordinary nannies couldn’t handle his outbursts. Elite bodyguards, being alpha, could even provoke more destruction.
Back at the villa, he pressed the elevator button anxiously. When the doors opened slightly, he squeezed out, ignoring shoes or coat, and gently opened the wardrobe.
Yan Yi curled up, still asleep.
Lu Shangjin sat on a small stool, gently stroking the little rabbit’s tail.
His right eye twitched the entire way back, bracing for potential disaster. He had already instructed his assistant to arrange a new house if needed.
He sat quietly with him.
As Yan Yi slept, his legs tensed. The little rabbit’s face twisted, fumbling to hold his calf.
“Pain…”
Lu Shangjin hastily lifted him, massaging the cramped muscle with moderate pressure. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here.”
Yan Yi awoke groggily, repeating dazedly:
“Brother…”
“Good boy.” Lu Shangjin held him. “Let’s eat something.”
A chef had been hired recently, but Yan Yi had kicked him out. Takeout was ordered—then overturned. Yan Yi grabbed the phone to call the police, claiming his alpha was trying to poison him with takeout.
Lu Shangjin had to cook himself.
Yan Yi’s attitude was inconsistent, but at least Lu Shangjin was the only alpha he let near, like an emperor-appointed consort tending the ill.
Lu Shangjin locked all sharp objects in the basement, replaced tableware with wooden dishes.
He held Yan Yi, gently rocking him. “Yan Yan, shall we have shrimp tonight for calcium?”
Hearing “shrimp,” Yan Yi froze, then struggled violently, hands reaching for the table. Lu Shangjin caught his hands, pressing them to his chest. “Good boy. No shrimp. What do you want?”
After a long pause, Yan Yi said winter melon soup.
“Alright, winter melon soup.” Lu Shangjin held him, kissing his hair. “Sit still. I’ll make it.”
Luckily, fresh ingredients arrived daily. From the fridge, he found a piece of winter melon wrapped in cling film.
While chopping, his sniper and tactical knife-trained hands were clumsy. Irregular chunks went into boiling water. He kept an eye on Yan Yi, who sat safely in the cupboard—the only place he felt secure.
Over an hour later, Lu Shangjin carried Yan Yi on his forearm, placing a bowl of winter melon soup on the table.
“Here, Yan Yan, time to eat.” Lu Shangjin seated him on his lap, scooping a spoonful to feed him.
Yan Yi took a bite.
“This is pumpkin soup.”
Lu Shangjin froze, tasting it himself. Apart from slightly less salt, the taste was okay—probably winter melon.
He coaxed softly: “It’s winter melon soup, baby. No fuss.”
Yan Yi’s round almond eyes still lacked sparkle. Softly:
“Then I want pumpkin soup.”