After holding him for a while, Yan Yi grew sleepy, going limp as he rested against Lu Shangjin’s shoulder. His soft rabbit ears draped lazily over Lu Shangjin’s neck.
In that instant, the pain from the reopened wound and the drugs surging through his veins seemed to vanish.
Lu Shangjin gently lifted him. With his omega frame—slender and small—and now even thinner than before, Yan Yi felt light and soft in his arms, carrying a faint scent of milk candy.
He carried him back to the bedroom, holding him with one arm as he changed him into his sleepwear, then tucked him into bed, carefully smoothing the covers.
The little rabbit turned over, curling into a tight, insecure ball, his ears covering his face completely.
As the soothing pheromones gradually thickened around him, Yan Yi smacked his lips lightly, his body slowly relaxing. His fingertips reached out, gently clutching the corner of Lu Shangjin’s clothes.
Not wanting to wake him, Lu Shangjin quietly slipped under the covers, wrapping his arms around Yan Yi from behind, his lips resting lightly against the young gland at the back of his neck.
He couldn’t help tightening his hold, pressing the little rabbit close. Even though the concentration of soothing pheromones was already more than enough, he kept releasing more, endlessly.
Not just to make Yan Yi feel safe—but almost as if to prove that his pheromones, in both quantity and intensity, could surpass anyone else’s.
A wall lamp cast a soft glow in the quiet bedroom, the clock ticking gently.
Lu Shangjin held him in his arms, watching him in the warm yellow light. He brushed aside the little rabbit’s ear with his thumb, tracing along his faint brows to his lowered lashes, and finally felt a bit at ease.
These days, he had been running back and forth between the company and home—at most returning three times in a single day.
Recently, internal issues had arisen among the company’s upper management. Work alone wouldn’t have overwhelmed him, but with his mind constantly on the little one at home, he couldn’t focus on anything.
During a morning meeting, a disagreement over management reforms escalated. Lu Shangjin lost his temper and nearly came to blows with several shareholders, leaving the situation difficult to control.
In the middle of the chaos, his phone suddenly vibrated.
He immediately stopped and glanced at it—sure enough, it was Yan Yi calling.
He stepped away from the noise and answered in a corner.
“Are you coming back at noon?” Yan Yi asked softly.
His tone was subdued, as if something had upset him.
Vice President Zhao approached with documents. “President Lu, if you insist on changing the current review model—”
Lu Shangjin lowered his head and spoke into the phone apologetically. “I’ll come back. Baby, I have something to handle right now. I’ll call you in five minutes, okay?”
He hung up, grabbed the document, and returned to the table, bracing his hands on it. His voice was low but clear. “Calm down. Give me three minutes to explain my reasoning.”
After temporarily pacifying the stubborn executives, he tried calling Yan Yi several times on the way back from the meeting—but there was no answer.
Back in his office, he took a final drag of his cigarette and crushed it into the ashtray. Just as he was about to call the housekeeper, her call came in first.
Yan Yi had run out.
The housekeeper was nearly in tears. As an ordinary beta, she couldn’t keep up with a child who disappeared the moment he stepped outside.
Lu Shangjin felt a wave of dizziness. He sat in his chair for a moment, staring blankly at the ashtray.
The last time he lost Yan Yi had also been in this office.
The same place. The same desk piled with cigarette butts and ash.
The same unanswered calls. The same panic and dread.
He didn’t even bother grabbing his coat before rushing downstairs.
His gland had just been injected with high-potency supplements. At his current level of recovery, he couldn’t yet use M2 tracking abilities.
He went home—Yan Yi wasn’t there. The neighborhood surveillance cameras just happened to be broken.
So he drove around searching blindly.
Where could a child go? He searched every corner nearby—nothing. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, leaving damp imprints on the leather.
He was going mad, driving through Changhui City as if to turn over every inch of land.
Eventually, he leaned back against the headrest. The ashtray held over a dozen cigarette butts. He smoked the last crumpled cigarette, crushed it out with numb fingers, then buried his head in his arms against the steering wheel, motionless.
“Don’t go…”
He was really trying to make things right.
Maybe it wasn’t enough yet, but given time, he would repay everything he owed Yan Yi, little by little.
Please come back. There was no need to forgive him anymore.
He didn’t dare hope for forgiveness—only that Yan Yi would return. Even if he stayed childlike forever, even if he didn’t remember him, didn’t love him—so long as he came home and could live the rest of his life without worry.
Loving someone who doesn’t love you… it was like crossing mountains and molten seas, just to touch his cheek.
This was both the final straw—and the only thing keeping him alive.
Drops fell from his chin, staining his trousers like scattered tears. His voice broke. “Yan Yi… Yan Yi… I was wrong. Weren’t you A3? Why didn’t you wake me up from the start…”
Then, in a brief glance upward—just as a car blocking his view drove away—Lu Shangjin saw someone collapsed beneath a rose-covered window across the street.
He didn’t even park properly, yanking the handbrake before rushing out. He darted through heavy traffic, nearly getting hit several times. Drivers slammed brakes and leaned out their windows, shouting at him.
He stumbled over a fence in the greenbelt, clumsily climbing over and rushing to the figure lying on the ground.
Carefully, he lifted Yan Yi.
The little rabbit’s gland was still too fragile to sustain exertion—he must have collapsed from exhaustion.
“Baby, don’t scare me.” Lu Shangjin pulled him close, releasing large amounts of soothing pheromones to replenish his depleted gland.
Yan Yi was clutching a rose he had torn from the iron window frame, its petals loosened from the fall.
Lu Shangjin sat on the ground without a care for appearances, his neat trousers now stained with dirt and grass, letting Yan Yi rest against his shoulder.
“Mmm…” Yan Yi half-opened his eyes, dazed when he saw Lu Shangjin so close.
Then he held out the rose, smiling sweetly.
“I hurt you yesterday when I kicked you. This is for you as an apology, okay?”
Lu Shangjin stared blankly, taking the slightly damaged rose. His throat tightened. “…Thank you.”
Yan Yi didn’t know why he was drawn to this flower. It just felt meaningful somehow.
He had eaten Lu Shangjin’s roses—so it was only right to return one.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Lu Shangjin gripped the rose tightly, inhaled its scent deeply, then tucked it into his shirt pocket.
“Does it still hurt?” Yan Yi asked shyly, fidgeting with his fingers. He leaned closer to Lu Shangjin’s injured shoulder and blew on it gently, his ears perking up bashfully. “You can touch my ears… don’t be sad.”
A faint smile finally broke through Lu Shangjin’s gloomy expression. He gently pinched the soft rabbit ears.
Yan Yi lowered his head, cheeks flushed. His sensitive ears curled, shyly pulling away from Lu Shangjin’s hand.
Lu Shangjin leaned in and whispered, “Can I kiss your ears?”
“…”
Yan Yi hesitated, biting his lip. His flushed, overheated ears lightly tapped against Lu Shangjin’s lips before quickly curling back. He mumbled softly, “There. Done.”
“Good. Let’s go home.” Lu Shangjin exhaled deeply, carrying him back to the car and fastening his seatbelt.
Yan Yi sat in the passenger seat hugging his knees, tugging at his ears in regret—how could he let an alpha kiss them so casually?
Lu Shangjin glanced at him occasionally while driving, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “What do you want for dinner?”
“I want chrysanthemum greens with sesame sauce.”
“The housekeeper’s cooking isn’t good? It’s such a simple dish, and you still want me to make it myself?”
“The one you make… smells like narcissus.” Yan Yi blinked, savoring the memory.
Lu Shangjin’s gaze settled on the distant traffic light. His nose stung.
Did narcissus really smell that good?
After bringing him home, he carefully asked during dinner and finally learned the reason—Yan Yi had broken a jade eagle ornament in the bedroom and had tried to call to confess.
After his bath, fragrant and clean, Yan Yi returned to the bedroom and saw Lu Shangjin sitting under the desk lamp, carefully applying invisible jade adhesive to the broken wing of the ornament.
Yan Yi approached cautiously, climbed onto a chair, and leaned over the table to watch.
“It was expensive… right? Can it still be fixed?”
“It’s not expensive.” Lu Shangjin skillfully filled the cracks with tiny jade fragments, glancing at him with a gentle expression. “Be more careful next time. Don’t cut your hands.”
The truly valuable things, once broken, could never be fully repaired.
They could only be soothed and mended over time, year after year—until the sharp edges dulled and the pain faded a little.
After a while of silence, Lu Shangjin looked up.
Yan Yi was lying on the table, folding paper with intense focus.
A moment later, the little rabbit held out a paper crane and quietly slipped it into Lu Shangjin’s pocket.
Then he climbed onto the bed and lay down, obediently raising his little tail.
Lu Shangjin’s heart jolted.
He walked over and sat at the bedside, gently stroking his head.
Yan Yi relaxed, resting his head on Lu Shangjin’s lap, his soft cheek squished out of shape.
Three months later, when they returned to Amphia Hospital for a follow-up, Doctor Zhong handed Lu Shangjin a report with a pleased smile.
“He’s recovering better than I expected.”
“His gland is steadily maturing—it’s already close to the size of a sixteen-year-old’s.”