The black BMW drove onto the cobblestone road in the pine-forested outskirts of Changhui City, a noble residential area developed several years ago. Snow-white fences enclosed gardens brimming with tulips, all surrounding the Lu family mansion at the center.
The mansion was a passive ultra-low-energy building, outfitted with integrated, high-performance exterior walls to keep the indoor climate comfortably temperate.
Yan Yi hugged his knees anxiously in the passenger seat, his frail body pressed into the corner. Looking out at the pine forest, he only noticed the thin layer of dust on the pinecones, tiny spiderweb-like cracks in the European-style white fences, and a stray pine needle left on a passing car’s windshield.
In this silent world, every minor imperfection seemed magnified in Yan Yi’s eyes. He breathed rapidly, clutching his left hand as a dull ache throbbed there. The closer they came to the mansion, the heavier the oppressive tightness in his chest became.
Lu Shangjin did not notice Yan Yi’s unusual behavior; he rarely focused on Yan Yi at all.
Carefully, Yan Yi took a small handful of Timothy hay from his pocket, nibbling it one strand at a time. Only one bag remained, so he had to ration it. The faint scent clinging to the hay barely kept him calm.
Lu Shangjin glanced right: “What are you eating?”
Yan Yi froze for a moment, then answered truthfully: “Timothy hay… a kind of… rabbit snack.” He feared how he would explain its origin if Lu Shangjin pressed further.
Lu Shangjin raised an eyebrow: “You like this?”
Yan Yi nodded: “It’s okay.”
The car stopped outside the mansion. A massive golden-brown shape barreled toward them. The golden long-haired mastiff tied in the small garden lunged out, barking thunderously. Yan Yi froze in terror, instinctively clutching Lu Shangjin’s hand.
Already anxious and easily startled, Yan Yi’s only protective third-stage gland was completely dormant. At that moment, he was weaker than an ordinary little lop-eared omega.
Lu Shangjin squeezed his hand, frowning slightly: “It won’t bite you.”
He led Yan Yi inside, casually smiling: “Learning to act pitiful from Yuan Mi? You weren’t this timid when I was your bodyguard.”
“….” Yan Yi bit his lip, unexpectedly retorting: “My gland wasn’t dormant before. If you thought I was weak, you didn’t have to swap me.”
The sharp reply immediately made him regret speaking. He looked away, frustrated—his anxiety and agitation stripped him of restraint, as if trapped in baked egg paste within a foil tray, swelling with discomfort that made his whole body ache.
Lu Shangjin glanced at him, slightly surprised, then took Yan Yi’s hand, bringing it to his lips: “Be good. Once we reach 97% compatibility, we’ll never be apart again. I’ll take care of you, protect you. Don’t mention this to my father, got it?”
He released Yan Yi’s hand, not wanting to appear clingy in front of his family.
Yan Yi tried to hold on, but Lu Shangjin gently brushed him aside and entered the Lu residence alone. Yan Yi’s hand lingered in the air, fingertips curling in disappointment, finding no place to rest.
Watching the broad, long hand leave his sight, he withdrew his own hand into his sleeve and silently climbed the steps.
A middle-aged alpha with gold-rimmed floral glasses sat in a rattan chair by the floor-to-ceiling window, sipping tea. Hearing footsteps in the foyer, he ignored the formality of his status and stood, smiling, inviting Yan Yi to sit.
A first-stage alpha, with a peregrine-type J1 gland. His natural presence wasn’t overwhelmingly oppressive, but without the support of his third-stage gland, Yan Yi’s legs trembled in the presence of two raptor alphas.
As an omega of a lop-eared rabbit, he occupied the lowest rung of both the gender and species hierarchy. This species lacked alphas entirely, consisting only of omegas and betas, which made the sense of danger in Yan Yi’s heart immense.
While Yan Yi was distracted, Lu Shangjin went to the cloakroom to change into casual clothes. Startled, Yan Yi followed, trying to grab his coat—but was stopped by Lu Lin’s call, forced to sit stiffly in place.
Lu Lin poured tea across from Yan Yi, pushing a fruit plate toward him: “Yan Yan, eat some fruit. You’re at home; don’t be shy.”
Yan Yi’s fingers trembled as he held an apple, eyes downcast, avoiding Lu Lin’s gaze.
Lu Lin released some calming pheromones, stroking Yan Yi’s hair: “After all these years, why are you still so scared?”
Fear-driven calming pheromones couldn’t soothe him. Yan Yi hid his left hand behind his back, quietly replying: “I… I…”
Lu Lin smiled faintly: “Was it that strict uncle who trained you too harshly? Suffering makes a man greater; your third-stage gland is the reward for your efforts.”
Yan Yi nodded weakly.
Seeing the wedding ring still on Yan Yi’s right hand, Lu Lin nodded with relief, leaning back: “You’re not so young anymore. Planning a wedding with Shangjin should start, or at least have a child first.”
Yan Yi lowered his head politely: “Let’s forget the wedding.”
Lu Lin, emphasizing this matter, immediately overruled him. He needed everyone coveting a lop-eared A3 omega to know that this little rabbit was marked by the Lu family—no one was to take him.
In truth, Yan Yi wanted a child more than anyone. That way, on cold nights when Lu Shangjin was away, at least a warm, adorable little one could be by his side.
Silence fell between them, each lost in thought.
In the kitchen, busy servants placed cut watermelon and purified water into an automatic juicer and switched it on.
The humming filled Yan Yi’s sensitive rabbit ears. His pale face drained of color, emitting an uncontrollable sob before rushing upstairs to his bedroom.
Lu Lin sighed, slicing an apple for himself. A rabbit remained a rabbit—fragile and helpless, no matter how advanced the gland. Even the harshest differentiation training was for his own good.
Upstairs, there were several spacious, bright bedrooms, but Yan Yi, guided by childhood memories, crawled into the deepest small storage room. Inside were cleaned bed sheets and pillows—a narrow, dimly lit space that had been his cocoon as a child.
Cedar mothballs still lingered in the cabinet, along with the little nest Yan Yi had made for himself as a child. This mansion was like a prison; only this soft, warm little nest truly belonged to him.
Panicked, Yan Yi crawled inside, curling into a small ball, closing the cabinet door, shivering in the darkness. He licked his left hand at his lips to reassure himself, quietly settling into a corner, instinctively protecting his small belly.
He noticed, unconsciously, a faint curve forming under his shirt where his smooth, flat stomach bulged slightly. His agitation grew; instinctively, he wrapped himself tightly in the down comforter inside the cabinet, like a little round rabbit dumpling, guarding his soft abdomen.
—
After changing, Lu Shangjin called his assistant:
“Go buy a snack called Timothy hay, like tea—German brand.”
The assistant looked puzzled.
Lu Lin waited in the reception room. Seeing Lu Shangjin sit across, he pushed a cup of kung-fu tea to him.
“Where’s he?” Lu Shangjin stretched his long legs on the carpet, resting one hand while checking the afternoon schedule sent by the assistant.
Lu Lin replied slowly: “Upstairs, probably resting. Tonight, he’ll stay here; I had a room prepared.”
Lu Shangjin replied nonchalantly: “I have something this afternoon. I’ll take him later.”
Lu Lin refused firmly: “No. This concerns the future heirs of the Lu family; it cannot be neglected.”
Lu Shangjin lowered his gaze to the documents, a sharp edge in his eyes: “I told you, the odds of him having a litter of rabbits are far higher than producing an alpha.”
Lu Lin remained calm: “Then keep having them until a third-stage potential alpha appears.”
“Impossible,” Lu Shangjin said, sipping tea. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You care?” Lu Lin’s expression darkened. “Other families capture omegas with mutant glands for reproduction, raising and confining them. In comparison, Yan Yi is fortunate.”
“Unnecessary,” Lu Shangjin replied, returning to the documents.
—
Yan Yi remained curled in the cabinet, supporting his slightly rounded belly. Instinct made him arrange soft materials into a little nest, then lie inside, half-asleep.
Suddenly, his phone screen lit up, painfully bright in the pitch-black cabinet. Yan Yi instinctively answered before the ringtone even sounded.
“Little rabbit, feeling better?” The same misdialing alpha’s voice. “The gift… can you eat it okay?”
“Thank you… no need next time. I’ll transfer the money to you. Please don’t call again.” Yan Yi refused politely, expressionless.
He should have hung up.
Without a mark, any alpha could see him as prey—or a mate.
Instinct would not allow him to refuse alpha contact while he was pregnant.