Shaowen Jing’s inbox received an encrypted overseas email: a batch of precision medical equipment orders had been abruptly canceled. The client preferred paying the penalty over continuing the collaboration.
“…Giving up such a profitable venture,” Shaowen Jing muttered, leaning back in his soft chair, stretching his long legs onto the desk, and slowly sipping his coffee.
He glanced at the clock. Nine in the evening.
Rubbing his hair, he casually found a hair tie to gather the mid-length strands, then went downstairs.
Wenchi was working on a puzzle. Last week, he’d bought a two-thousand-piece set, which was completed in just a few days. Shaowen Jing had asked a friend with the same hobby to bring him a three-dimensional, ten-thousand-piece miniature castle.
Standing at Wenchi’s bedroom door, he watched the little one focus intently on the pieces in his hands.
“Time for bed, little chick,” Shaowen Jing gently knocked.
Wenchi glanced back, carefully gathering the unfinished pieces into the box, tiptoeing barefoot across the carpet, and softly taking Shaowen Jing’s hand.
When Wenchi was upset, he would silently hold Shaowen Jing’s hand.
He lifted the little one into his arms, turned off the main light, and stayed with him for a while.
Wenchi nestled under the thin blanket. Shaowen Jing lay on the bed’s edge, patting gently through the sheet, supporting his head as he asked, “Did anyone at school bully you?”
Wenchi shook his head.
Shaowen Jing waited patiently.
After a while, Wenchi hesitantly asked, “Is Rabbit never coming back?”
Shaowen Jing paused, then smiled as he patted him. “As long as I’m here, there’s no need to miss anyone else.”
At that time, he could only choose to save Wenchi; he simply didn’t have the ability to take him and simultaneously rescue Yanyi from an M2 Peregrine Alpha.
Raptors and beasts alike were formidable adversaries for an insect or spider—they were impossible to confront head-on.
Seeing Lushang Jin come to seize someone with such a life-or-death intensity, he hadn’t anticipated a heartless man’s return. If he appeared before Lushang Jin now, it would have been like running into the barrel of a gun.
Wenchi snuggled into Shaowen Jing’s arm, raising his large eyes to softly ask, “Why did only my mommy and daddy become stars?”
The quiet words pierced a small, sharp sting into Shaowen Jing’s heart.
He hugged him close, leaning against the headboard. “Did I fail to take care of you?”
“But you don’t make me milk candy, and you don’t tell me nice stories,” Wenchi said, his soft hands holding Shaowen Jing’s neck. “I never said you’re bad. You’re good, but… different.”
“Oh, baby, you’re hurting my heart too much,” Shaowen Jing smiled, releasing calming pheromones to lull him to sleep.
“I’ll bring the little rabbit back when I can,” he murmured, patting and coaxing him to sleep, pondering when he could make it happen.
“He carries my mark; he’ll come back eventually.”
“Do you like him?” Wenchi obediently sat in his lap, looking up. “Do you?”
Shaowen Jing thought for a moment.
The little white rabbit had impressed him when he leapt off the high platform wielding knives.
A small current ran through his chest—not just from pheromone resonance, but admiration for the exquisite artistry.
Yes, he liked him.
Before he could verbalize his long-considered answer, Wenchi asked again: “Do you like him more than Lushang Jin?”
Shaowen Jing furrowed his brow slightly.
At the very least, he wouldn’t humiliate himself to the point of desperation just to retrieve an Omega.
“If I ever like an Omega, you’ll be the first to know,” Shaowen Jing kissed his forehead. “I’m off to work now. Good night.”
Perhaps because his feelings were inherently restrained, even though he had marked Yanyi, the attachment felt increasingly distant day by day—like the mark was fading.
He didn’t dwell on it.
In his view, love should be graceful and measured. Lushang Jin’s all-consuming pursuit wasn’t love—it was madness.
Meanwhile, Lushang Jin sat by Yanyi’s hospital bed, trimming his nails.
Ears and paws needed regular grooming for cleanliness and health. After trimming Yanyi’s nails, he cleaned the ear folds with cotton.
After tidying Yanyi, Lushang Jin rested at the bed edge, releasing the last bit of calming pheromones.
His own injuries demanded gland energy to recover. Continuous overexertion had damaged the glands; daily recovery was minimal, and he had been expending it all on calming pheromones.
He dared not slack off for a moment.
Within the first few days post-surgery, suspected rejection reactions kept appearing. The machine alarms rang in the early hours, Yanyi was rushed into surgery multiple times, and Lushang Jin signed another critical condition notice.
Sleep was no longer an option.
He moved a chair outside the ICU, sitting against the wall all night, waiting for the alarms to protect Yanyi from death’s edge.
Once Yanyi stabilized and was transferred to a private room, Lushang Jin could stay beside him.
That morning, he washed his face carefully, studying his reflection: stubble forgotten, a few strands of gray hair showing.
He instilled two drops of eye medicine to relieve soreness, but his hands trembled, spilling the liquid across his face.
Then his nose ached.
He groped for Yanyi’s hand, placing it to his lips.
Yanyi’s ring was still in Lushang Jin’s pocket, to be worn when he woke and consented.
The wedding ring was old, burdened with bad memories. Lushang Jin considered replacing it, but knowing Yanyi’s attachment to the past, he decided against it.
“Wake up on May 20th and see me,” he murmured, forehead pressed to Yanyi’s fingertips. “You always sleep so long; look at you—no flesh left on your bones.”
“When you wake, we’ll go home,” he continued softly. “I’ll make you the happiest little rabbit.”
Yanyi stirred slightly, as if trying to turn over.
Startled, Lushang Jin supported the hand with the IV, preventing the needle from dislodging, carefully helping him roll over.
Once turned, Yanyi curled into a ball, ears flattened, letting out a weak, childlike whimper.
Lushang Jin hurried to the other side, moving the ears to see his face, relieved by the slight frown.
He strained to extract energy from his glands, the soft scent of daffodils soothing the curled-up little rabbit.
“Good boy,” Lushang Jin murmured, kneeling slightly, pinching his thin cheeks, noticing the IV bag was deflating, and quietly leaving to call the nurse and check results.
Dr. Zhong showed him the gland CT scan: “Glands are developing well. Don’t worry.”
The scan showed glands smaller than a normal adult’s.
“New glands aren’t mature, only grown to a seven-year-old child’s size. Previous mental stress caused complications, which will need slow adjustment for full recovery,” Dr. Zhong explained.
Lushang Jin nodded repeatedly, almost taking out his glasses and notebook.
“Take care of your own wounds as well. Alpha calming pheromones can accelerate patient recovery,” Dr. Zhong advised. “Until the glands mature, avoid intimacy. New glands are too fragile to withstand biting marks or high-concentration mating pheromones.”
Engaging at this stage would be inhumane.
Lushang Jin sincerely said, “Thank you.”
Dr. Zhong blinked, smiling: “Mr. Lu, you’re too polite.”
He tactfully avoided mentioning Lu’s earlier outburst in the ICU, knowing anyone with a loved one in critical condition could lose control.
During these days at Anfia Hospital, Dr. Zhong witnessed Lu’s attentive care, amazed that the cold, aloof young master could be so devoted to a bunny with only 75% compatibility.
It shattered his preconceived image of the aloof heir.
Dr. Zhong, unexpectedly talkative, discussed the condition, current events, and lightly touched on business matters—never testing Lu’s patience or causing discomfort.
In conversation, he casually asked about Xia Ping Tian’s preferences.
Lu smiled faintly: “He said his brother broke a set of purple clay teaware he liked during a quarrel.”
The little one wanted to please the benefactor—Lu could sense that without guessing.
Returning from Dr. Zhong, Lu washed his face, pushed the hospital room door open, and suddenly stiffened.
His hand trembling on the handle, he rushed inside.
“You’re awake?”
Yanyi sat hugging his legs at the bed corner, small ears pressed to his cheek, clutching a thin blanket, lost in thought.
Lu’s voice was soft, yet in the quiet room, it was like an explosion to Yanyi’s sensitive hearing. He flinched, ears stiffening before drooping, eyes wide in panic, nose twitching.
Realizing he’d startled him, Lu slowed, cautiously approaching the bed, releasing calming pheromones.
The scent of daffodils filled the air. Yanyi lifted his head, sniffed, neither rejecting nor comforted, shrinking further into the corner.
Lu wrapped him in his arms, stroking his back, releasing as much calming pheromone as he could, whispering, “Don’t be afraid. It’s me. You’re safe.”
Yanyi curled against Lu’s shoulder, stiff and unfamiliar, small hands and feet tucked in, forming a rabbit-like ball.
Lu’s joy cooled as his boiling heart subsided.
He carefully examined the soft ball in his arms—panic rippled through every cell.
Why… did he act like a child?
…A seven-year-old child.