Honestly, the Yan Yi standing in front of him now was almost exactly as Lu Shangjin had imagined—just far calmer than expected.
He had been prepared to be slapped. Instead, he received only a light, indifferent question, and it brought an inexplicable, colder kind of panic.
When he leaned against the car door to light a cigarette, the spark reflected in his lowered gray eyes, making the loneliness within them even clearer.
Lu Shangjin wanted to reach out and touch him. His fingers twitched slightly, then he restrained himself and clenched them into his palm.
He rehearsed more than a dozen apologies and pleas in his mind, but what came out instead was, “…I’ll make you a late-night snack when we get home.”
Yan Yi curled a faint, indifferent smile, eyes lowered to the ember between his fingers. “Home? Which home—yours?”
“It’s our new home. Don’t you remember? Someone will come in a couple of days to renovate the study wall.” Lu Shangjin explained in a low voice, knocking on the window to tell the driver to leave so they wouldn’t hear anything else they shouldn’t.
A flicker of struggle passed through Yan Yi’s eyes.
He did remember Lu Shangjin’s year of careful tenderness—the warmth, the affection, like a gentle spring rain that once brushed his cheek at seventeen.
He even clearly remembered the way that man once, in his sleep, humbly begged him not to leave.
“I believed you once before,” Yan Yi said, forcing himself to loosen his stiff shoulders and accept it with forced calm.
His indifference made Lu Shangjin’s blood run cold. It confirmed his worst fear—Yan Yi only stayed because of the mark on him.
Lu Shangjin turned his face away, hiding his pain.
A pressure of danger crept in around them.
Both sensed it at the same time, instinctively turning their backs to each other, guns aimed in different directions.
“Don’t stand so close,” Yan Yi frowned. That old muscle memory of trusting each other’s backs had not yet faded.
The difference now was subtle—Lu Shangjin’s stance was more protective, shielding him within a tight space.
“Get in the car first,” Lu Shangjin said, reaching behind him to pull Yan Yi in close. No one would hurt his little rabbit again. He couldn’t afford another injury.
Yan Yi slid into the driver’s seat without hesitation. Lu Shangjin vaulted into the passenger seat, buckled up, and pulled out an AK-47 from beneath the seat.
“Don’t be scared. I won’t let you get hurt while I’m here,” he said, checking the magazine. His right hand trembled so badly bullets slipped onto the floor, and he hurriedly picked them up again.
“Your hand… are you okay?” Yan Yi glanced at him.
“It’s nothing.” He leaned back with the rifle, forcing a tired smile. “Worried about me?”
Yan Yi bit down on his nearly-finished cigarette, floored the accelerator to one hundred twenty, and shot forward like lightning.
Smoke drifted from between his teeth as he drove, occasionally tapping ash into the tray. “I’m just a weak omega now. I can’t help you.”
A sharp impact rang against the rear windshield—bullet marks etched into the bulletproof glass.
Lu Shangjin cursed under his breath, opened the modified sunroof, and leaned out with half his body, firing back at the pursuing van.
Yan Yi controlled the wheel with practiced precision, allowing Lu Shangjin stable angles to shoot.
Two drones buzzed in from behind, locking on and diving toward the speeding Bentley.
“Yan Yan! Get out!”
A deafening explosion shook the air. Yan Yi was thrown out of the vehicle, and in that suspended instant the Bentley turned into a fireball before his eyes.
Lu Shangjin wrapped him in his coat, rolling on impact to shield him as he hit the ground hard.
Yan Yi lay on top of him, staring blankly into the alpha’s eyes. Then Lu Shangjin pulled him down against his chest, holding his head tightly. The faint scent of water lilies filled his senses.
The alpha’s sharp brows softened, losing some of their usual coldness, replaced by unexpected steadiness and warmth.
There was no time to linger. Lu Shangjin lifted him again and rushed into a narrow alley.
Yan Yi clung to his neck, grabbing Lu Shangjin’s MP433, firing at the drones behind them. Each shot hit precisely, detonating their triggers.
Two explosions tore through the air as the drones fell in burning wreckage.
Lu Shangjin’s right hand trembled uncontrollably. He shifted Yan Yi in his arms, murmuring reassurances, and carefully massaged the injured hand he had been gripping from recoil.
A faint electric current seemed to pass through Yan Yi’s chest. He bit his lip hard.
Back at the villa, Lu Shangjin activated the highest security system to draw attention away, then slipped out through a hidden exit in an old, dust-covered sedan.
Once they finally locked the door of their new home, Lu Shangjin collapsed onto the sofa, gasping for breath.
Yan Yi brushed his hand away, boiled water, poured him a cup, then went upstairs without a word and locked himself in the bedroom.
Lu Shangjin lay back, breathing heavily, and called both Bi Ruiqing and Xia Pingtian to report the attack.
When the tremor in his right hand eased, he dragged himself upstairs and stood outside the closed door.
Like a pet waiting outside a master’s room, hoping to be allowed in.
“I’ll make you something to eat. Sleeping hungry isn’t good.”
A bowl of pumpkin porridge and stir-fried eggs and cucumber were placed on the table. Once a spoiled young master who never touched a kitchen, Lu Shangjin now moved efficiently and skillfully.
He sat alone, waiting. When the porridge cooled to the right temperature, he sent Yan Yi a message to come down.
Then he lay his head on the table, pressing his aching shoulder, swallowing a painkiller with difficulty.
The tablet stuck in his dry throat; he drank water before it finally went down, bitterness lingering in his mouth.
In the dim bedroom light, Yan Yi lay curled on the bed, scrolling through his photo album.
Hundreds of travel photos filled the screen. A younger alpha on the beach, arms around him like a couple deeply in love.
He expected sleep to come quickly, but an hour passed and he was still awake.
Among the photos was one taken at home—the same bed he was lying in now.
He zoomed in on the rabbit doodle drawn on the alpha’s nape.
How could someone like Lu Shangjin, who allowed him such reckless freedom, actually be Lu Shangjin?
He tore down a paper crane from the lamp string and threw it into the trash.
Anger rose sharply inside him—hatred for the illusion of tenderness that kept deceiving him.
He packed a bag, grabbed his belongings, and opened the door.
Lu Shangjin stood there with a reheated bowl of pumpkin porridge, startled nearly spilling it.
Yan Yi glanced at the bowl and walked past him.
Lu Shangjin entered the room and saw the torn string from the lamp, then retrieved the crumpled paper crane from the trash.
He smoothed it carefully, retying the broken thread with trembling fingers.
When he turned back, Yan Yi was leaning against the door, watching.
“What happened to my things?” Yan Yi asked.
Lu Shangjin explained softly about the miscarriage and his mistakes, his voice strained.
Yan Yi gathered his belongings, then left.
Lu Shangjin grabbed him from behind, holding him tightly, begging him to stay.
Yan Yi broke free and shattered the last shred of paper in his hand.
The door slammed shut.
Yan Yi collapsed later by the roadside, pain twisting through his body—until someone lifted him into a warm embrace.
Water lily scent filled the air again, unstable and faint.
He was placed in a car, drifting in and out of consciousness.
At eight in the morning, Dr. Zhong arrived at work.
Lu Shangjin was already waiting.
“His condition stabilized last night, but his emotions are still unstable,” he said hoarsely.
When the elevator opened, Lu Shangjin rushed forward to support Yan Yi.
Yan Yi looked pale and unsteady, silent and distant.
“What did the doctor say?” Lu Shangjin asked anxiously.
Then Yan Yi shoved him away and slapped him hard across the face.
“You’re a monster,” he said.
Lu Shangjin froze.
He read the report.
Three months pregnant.
Without hesitation, he carried Yan Yi to the examination room.
The doctor explained the situation and necessity of care.
Lu Shangjin took out a small notebook and began recording every instruction with intense focus.
Yan Yi watched his profile in reflection.
Something warm and fragile slowly seeped into his chest, touching a wound that had long since dried.