Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gao Tu had long accepted that survival meant silence.

Born to a family that barely scraped by, Gao Tu was used to taking up less space. After their mother died, he became the shield—soft where their father was sharp, responsible where others failed. With an older sister whose health wavered like the flame of a dying candle, Gao Tu grew up fast. There was no time for dreams, no space for self.

And definitely no room for being an omega.

In a world where secondary genders dictated power, Gao Tu chose to hide his. He registered as a beta the moment he turned sixteen, lying on the forms with a trembling hand and a steady heart. Suppressants did the rest—blurring the scent, flattening the edges. It was safer this way. Cleaner. People looked past betas. They were neutral, non-threatening. Invisible. Just how Gao Tu preferred it.

University was never part of the plan, but scholarships and sleepless nights opened that door. To make ends meet, he juggled side jobs: tutoring, campus errands, and his current role—helping out in the library after hours. It was quiet work, organizing boxes of neglected books and reshelving returns. He liked it. No one looked too closely. No one asked too many questions.

Until Shen Wenlang.

Their first meeting was uneventful in a way that left a mark. Gao Tu had been stacking a box of old hardcovers when a shadow passed behind him. Tall, cold air, and the faintest whiff of pine—an alpha. He turned and saw him: lean frame, unreadable eyes, posture like the world owed him something.

Shen Wenlang didn’t say hello. He barely looked at Gao Tu.

He just found an empty corner and sat, flipping open a notebook without a word.

“...Do you need help finding something?” Gao Tu asked, hesitating as he balanced a book against his hip.

“No,” Shen Wenlang replied flatly, not looking up. His voice was low, almost too calm.

“Okay,” Gao Tu murmured, turning back to the shelves. He preferred it this way—no small talk, no attention.

But when he glanced back a moment later, Shen Wenlang was still watching him. Not openly, but from the corner of his eye, like he was trying to figure out what exactly Gao Tu was.

They kept running into each other. Neither spoke much.

On the third meeting, Gao Tu broke the silence as Shen Wenlang hovered near the reference section, pretending to read.
“You’re here again,” Gao Tu said, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Starting to think you’re living here.”

Shen Wenlang looked up, his dark eyes sharp. “You’re the one who’s always here.”

“I work here,” Gao Tu shot back softly, sliding a book into place. “What’s your excuse?”

Shen Wenlang didn’t answer. Instead, he closed the book in his hand and leaned against the shelf, watching Gao Tu with a quiet intensity that made his pulse skip.

Gao Tu didn’t press it. He was used to being unnoticed. And yet—there was something different about the way Shen Wenlang looked at silence. As if he craved it too.

What Gao Tu didn’t know was that Shen Wenlang had his own reasons for avoiding omegas. Reasons drenched in family history and bitter resentment. To him, omegas were weak, manipulative, deceitful. He hated the way they used fragility as a weapon, the way they disrupted order with chaos masked in sweetness.

But Shen Wenlang couldn’t place Gao Tu. Couldn’t smell what he was. Couldn’t categorize him the way he usually did.

“Beta, right?” Shen Wenlang asked one evening, voice casual but probing.

Gao Tu froze for a second, then forced a nod. “Yeah.”

Shen Wenlang’s gaze lingered on him as if trying to peel back the answer. “Hm. You don’t seem like the others.”

“That’s… supposed to be a compliment?” Gao Tu tried to keep his tone light, but his heart was beating too hard.

Shen Wenlang didn’t reply, but there was the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth, as though he found Gao Tu quietly amusing.

And yet… the silence between them never felt suffocating. It felt shared.

Day by day, their routines aligned. Shen Wenlang kept returning to the library. Gao Tu kept pretending not to notice. They weren’t friends—not yet. But something tethered them anyway.

Gao Tu knew it was a mistake. Letting someone in. Letting someone like him in.

Because even if Shen Wenlang didn’t know the truth…
Even if Gao Tu had hidden everything with perfect care…

He was still an omega.

And Shen Wenlang still hated them.

But what if, one day, the silence wasn’t enough to protect them both?

Chapter Text

The days passed like the slow turning of pages. Gao Tu and Shen Wenlang kept bumping into each other in the library—quietly, consistently, as if the universe had decided they were meant to orbit each other.

Something shifted between them. It was subtle at first—a nod, a glance, the smallest curl of a smile—but soon they could call it something real. Friendship.

Or, at least, something close to it.

---

“You’re here again,” Gao Tu said one afternoon, his voice low as he wiped down a dusty shelf. “Don’t you get tired of staring at the same walls?”

Shen Wenlang leaned against a table, watching him work. “Maybe I like the company.”

The casual tone made Gao Tu’s ears warm. He kept his back turned, pretending to busy himself with a stack of returns. “Company? We barely talk.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t notice things,” Shen Wenlang replied, his voice dropping in a way that made Gao Tu’s chest tighten.

---

That day, Gao Tu was rearranging the shelves, replacing brittle, old books with newer ones. He was on his tiptoes, reaching for a heavy volume just out of reach. His fingers brushed the edge, but the weight of the books below made the ladder wobble.

“Damn—” Gao Tu gasped as his foot slipped.

Before panic could sink in, a firm grip caught him by the waist. He landed against a solid chest, breath stolen.

“Careful.” Shen Wenlang’s voice was sharp, but his gaze—so close—wasn’t. It was soft, almost startled. “Are you trying to kill yourself over a book?”

Gao Tu swallowed hard, feeling his heart pound against his ribs. “I—I was fine. You just scared me.”

“Fine? You were about to fall.”

Shen Wenlang didn’t move right away. Neither did Gao Tu. The warmth of his hands lingered, firm yet strangely gentle. For a moment, silence pressed in—not the comfortable kind they’d shared before, but something different. Charged.

Gao Tu forced a laugh, stepping back. “Thanks, hero. I owe you a book-sorting medal or something.”

Shen Wenlang’s lips twitched as though holding back a smile. “Just don’t make a habit of falling in front of me.”

---

A few nights later, they found themselves at a quiet bar near campus. Gao Tu wasn’t one for drinks, but Shen Wenlang had insisted, saying, “You work too much. One night off won’t kill you.”

The amber glow of the lights made everything feel warmer, softer. Gao Tu nursed a glass of soda while Shen Wenlang sipped whiskey, his sharp gaze unusually relaxed.

“Why do you have so many jobs?” Shen Wenlang asked suddenly, his tone quieter than usual. “You’re barely sleeping, aren’t you?”

Gao Tu shrugged. “Bills don’t pay themselves. My sister… she’s sick a lot. Dad’s barely home. It’s fine.”

“That’s not fine.”

The firmness in Shen Wenlang’s voice made Gao Tu blink.

“It’s my life. I’m used to it,” Gao Tu said, trying to sound casual. “Besides, I’m just a beta. No one’s lining up to make things easy for me.”

For a moment, Shen Wenlang’s expression softened in a way Gao Tu had never seen. He didn’t argue—just stared at him like he was trying to understand something he couldn’t.

“Work for me,” Shen Wenlang said suddenly.

Gao Tu choked on his drink. “What?”

“I could use someone like you. You’re calm, responsible. I’d pay you better than any of those side jobs.”

“But you already have people working for you, right? Assistants, secretaries…”

“They’re not you.”

The words slipped out so easily that even Shen Wenlang seemed to catch himself. He cleared his throat and leaned back. “I mean, I trust you more than strangers. That’s all.”

Gao Tu felt heat creeping into his face. He laughed softly, unsure if he wanted to accept the offer or run from the look in Shen Wenlang’s eyes. “You’re weird, you know that?”

“Maybe,” Shen Wenlang replied, his voice almost amused. “But I don’t like seeing you burn yourself out.”

Gao Tu didn’t answer right away. His heart was still beating too fast from that single, unguarded moment.

Chapter Text

The bar was quiet, the hum of soft music mixing with the low murmur of other late-night customers. Shen Wenlang’s glass was nearly empty, but he kept swirling the amber liquid like it had answers at the bottom.

Gao Tu sat across from him, sipping his soda. He wasn’t sure what to say. There was something different about Shen Wenlang tonight—his shoulders less rigid, his gaze unfocused, as if the walls he always carried were starting to crack.

Gao Tu suddenly ask to break the silence that's building up between them.

" uhmm— what do you think about omegas" as he cleared his throat after asking that.

“You asked me about omegas? — I hate them.” Shen Wenlang said suddenly, his voice deep and edged with something sharp.

Gao Tu froze mid-sip. “You know I just— I’ve wondered,” he admitted quietly.

Shen Wenlang’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “They’re fragile,” he said, almost spitting out the word. “Or at least, they pretend to be. It’s a mask they wear when they screw up, when they want the world to forgive them. People see an omega cry and suddenly, they’re the victim. Even when they’re the ones who caused all the damage.”

His fingers tightened around the glass, knuckles pale.

“My dad was an omega,” he continued, his tone low but steady now. “Everyone loved him because he looked so soft and pure. But he lied. Cheated. Manipulated my father. Every time he got caught, he would hide behind that fake fragility, acting like the world had wronged him. And my father…” His jaw clenched. “He always forgave him. Because he was an omega.”

The disgust in Shen Wenlang’s voice made Gao Tu’s stomach twist.

“I swore I’d never fall for that act. Never let someone like that control my life. Weakness is just another way to deceive people. I hate it. I hate them.”

Each word hit Gao Tu like a blow. His throat felt dry, his heart pounding so hard he was afraid Shen Wenlang could hear it.

Because the one thing Shen Wenlang despised the most—the thing he spoke about with fire in his eyes—was what Gao Tu was hiding.

An omega.

Gao Tu stared at his hands, nails pressing into his palm. Don’t flinch. Don’t show it.

“Not all omegas are like your dad,” Gao Tu said softly, trying to steady his voice. “Some people… they’re just trying to survive.”

Shen Wenlang looked at him sharply, but there was something searching in his gaze. “You sound like you know that kind of person.”

“Maybe I do,” Gao Tu replied, forcing a small, sad smile. “Or maybe I just know what it’s like to be judged for something you can’t change.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not cold. For a moment, Shen Wenlang’s expression softened, like he wanted to say more but didn’t know how.

“You’re… different,” Shen Wenlang muttered, almost to himself. “You don’t talk like everyone else.”

Gao Tu laughed lightly, though guilt weighed on his chest. “That’s because I’m boring, remember?”

Shen Wenlang huffed a small laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Boring? No. Just… real. I don’t meet a lot of people like that.”

Gao Tu swallowed hard. He wanted to believe those words. But all he could think was how much of a lie his life had become.

Shen Wenlang was willing to help him, to trust him. And all Gao Tu could give in return was a carefully constructed façade.

Chapter Text

The guilt never left.
After that night at the bar, Gao Tu couldn’t stop thinking about Shen Wenlang’s words—his hate, his fire, his absolute disgust for omegas. Every time Gao Tu remembered, a knot tightened in his chest.

I shouldn’t be this close to him, Gao Tu thought as he stacked books in the library. I’m lying to him every day. If he finds out…

His thoughts were cut off when his phone rang—loudly. Too loudly.

The sudden sound made a few students snap their heads toward him with irritated glares.

“Ah—sorry, sorry!” Gao Tu whispered, fumbling to silence the ringtone. His heart sank when he saw the caller ID.

Shen Wenlang.

He quickly ducked out from behind the counter and slipped into the bathroom, pressing the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Why aren’t you answering faster?” Shen Wenlang’s voice was firm but laced with something he didn’t usually show—impatience. “Where are you?”

“I’m at work. In the library. Why—”

“I’m outside.”

Gao Tu blinked. “Outside… what?”

Before he could get an answer, the call ended.

---

When Gao Tu stepped out of the bathroom, still confused, the last person he expected to see was waiting for him.

Shen Wenlang.

Leaning against the wall like he owned the place, hands in his pockets, dark eyes locked onto him.

Gao Tu almost dropped his phone. “Wenlang? You—how long have you been standing there?”

Shen Wenlang’s gaze swept over him—taking in his slightly flushed face, the way his coworkers were still glaring at him from the counter. Something about it made the alpha’s lips twitch. “Long enough.”

“What are you doing here? Why—”

Before Gao Tu could finish, Shen Wenlang stepped forward, grabbed his wrist, and said flatly, “Let’s go.”

“Wait—what? Go where?” Gao Tu stumbled as he was pulled along.

“To the company.”

It took Gao Tu a few seconds to process, his eyes widening. “The… company? You mean your company? But I—Wenlang, I can’t just leave work like this!”

Shen Wenlang didn’t even glance back. “You can. I’m taking you. You’re going to be my secretary.”

“What?!” Gao Tu almost yanked his hand back, but the alpha’s grip was too sure, too unyielding. “I—I don’t even know how to be a secretary! I don’t have experience! This is crazy!”

Shen Wenlang stopped walking and turned to face him, their faces close enough that Gao Tu could see the faint crease between his brows. “Do you think I care about experience?”

Gao Tu blinked, flustered. “Well—uh—most people do—”

“You’re not most people.” His tone was low but firm. “I want you.”

The words sent Gao Tu’s heart into chaos.

“But why me?” Gao Tu asked weakly.

Shen Wenlang didn’t answer right away. His gaze softened just slightly, but his voice stayed calm, almost nonchalant. “Because I like having you beside me. That’s enough.”

---

Inside the car, Gao Tu sat stiffly, still processing what just happened.

“Are you always like this?” he muttered, glancing at Shen Wenlang, who was calmly adjusting his tie as if dragging someone out of work was perfectly normal.

“Like what?” Shen Wenlang asked, eyes still on the road.

“Bossy. Overbearing. Kidnapping librarians.”

A corner of Shen Wenlang’s mouth curved up. “Only when I want something.”

Gao Tu stared at him, heart pounding, unsure whether to feel annoyed, flattered, or terrified.

Chapter Text

Gao Tu tried to resist. He really did. But in the end, he found himself sitting in a sleek office chair, staring at the glossy company ID with his name printed beneath the title Secretary.

He owed Shen Wenlang too much to refuse.

---

The first day was overwhelming. Gao Tu couldn’t stop looking around—the building, the towering glass walls, the polished floors that gleamed under the light. Everything was modern, elegant, and intimidating.

People like me don’t belong in places like this, Gao Tu thought, but he forced himself to smile. Well… thanks to him, I’m here.

---

Days passed. Gao Tu was still fumbling, still figuring out how to navigate the endless stream of tasks and schedules. His co-workers were polite enough, but Gao Tu constantly found himself asking questions, unsure of what exactly a secretary was supposed to do.

One afternoon, Gao Tu was told to prepare a report he wasn’t familiar with. Confused, he approached one of his co-workers, a tall, easygoing guy from the finance department.

“Hey, um… can you show me how to format this? I’m kind of lost,” Gao Tu asked with an apologetic smile.

The guy chuckled. “Sure. Here, let me show you.” He leaned over Gao Tu’s desk, pointing at the screen. Their shoulders brushed as he explained, his voice low and friendly.

---

What Gao Tu didn’t notice—at least not at first—was the man standing across the room.

Shen Wenlang.

His sharp gaze locked on them, dark and intense, like a storm waiting to break. His jaw tightened as he watched the interaction—the way the co-worker leaned too close, the way Gao Tu smiled in that soft, shy way.

Shen Wenlang’s presence screamed jealousy, but he refused to admit it even to himself. So he stood there, silent, burning, until Gao Tu finally felt the weight of that stare.

---

Gao Tu glanced up and froze when he saw Shen Wenlang watching him.

Why is he looking at me like that?

After a second of hesitation, Gao Tu excused himself from the co-worker and walked toward him. “Wenlang—uh, I mean… do you need something?”

Shen Wenlang’s eyes flicked over him, unreadable, and then—he walked away. Without a word.

---

The rest of the day, Gao Tu couldn’t focus. He kept replaying that moment, wondering if he had done something wrong. By the time an hour had passed, he was chewing on his bottom lip in frustration.

When Shen Wenlang finally returned, Gao Tu decided he couldn’t take the silence anymore. He walked into his office, clutching his notepad like a shield.

“Did I… do something wrong?” Gao Tu asked, his voice hesitant.

Shen Wenlang didn’t look up from his papers. “Don’t ask me something that’s not related to work,” he said flatly, his tone sharp enough to cut.

Gao Tu blinked, dumbfounded. “I just… thought you might be upset with me.”

Shen Wenlang didn’t answer, and the silence felt heavier than ever. Gao Tu stood there for a moment, unsure if he should leave.

---

Finally, Shen Wenlang set his pen down and spoke without looking at him.

“Next time, don’t ask other people for help,” he said, his voice quiet but laced with authority. “If you don’t understand something, come to me. People have their own obligations.”

Gao Tu swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to bother you, I—”

“And,” Shen Wenlang interrupted, his gaze finally meeting Gao Tu’s, “call me President Shen from now on.”

The words sent a strange chill down Gao Tu’s spine. He wasn’t sure if it was anger, jealousy, or something else in Shen Wenlang’s eyes—but whatever it was, it left him breathless.

Chapter Text

Weeks passed, and the warmth that once lingered between Gao Tu and Shen Wenlang slowly froze over.
The quiet friendship they had built was gone now—shattered.

Shen Wenlang treated Gao Tu less like a friend and more like a servant, demanding his time and attention as if Gao Tu’s only purpose was to serve him. And Gao Tu… he endured it all.

He didn’t fight back.
He didn’t speak up.
Even when the words cut deep, he simply bowed his head and whispered, “Yes, President Shen.”

---

Today was no different. Gao Tu had been assigned to meet and assist a high-profile client. He handled it with the same professionalism he always did, even managing a small smile when the client complimented him.

When he returned to Shen Wenlang’s office, he clutched the folder tightly to his chest. His palms were damp, his throat dry, but his face remained calm.

Shen Wenlang didn’t look up at first, but when he did, his gaze was sharp and burning.

“Was he that interesting?” Shen Wenlang asked, his tone cutting like ice.

Gao Tu froze. “P-President Shen?”

Shen Wenlang set his pen down slowly, leaning back in his chair with a deliberate, cold stare. “You were smiling at that client like you’d known him your whole life. Laughing at everything he said. Is that how you handle all clients?”

Gao Tu’s mouth parted slightly, but no words came out. The weight of Shen Wenlang’s irritation pressed down on him like an invisible chain.

“What?” Shen Wenlang’s voice sharpened. “Cat got your tongue? Or do you just enjoy playing the sweet little thing so they’ll treat you nicely?”

The words hit like a slap.

Gao Tu’s grip on the folder tightened until the edges cut into his skin. His chest ached, but he lowered his head, keeping his voice steady.

“I’m sorry if I was unprofessional, President Shen.”

The formality in his tone only seemed to make Shen Wenlang angrier. He pushed back his chair and stood abruptly, circling the desk until he was towering over Gao Tu.

“Unprofessional? That’s what you call it?” His voice dropped lower, simmering with an anger that felt almost personal. “Don’t act clueless with me, Gao Tu. I don’t like that fake, polite face. It’s pathetic.”

The words carved into him like knives, but Gao Tu stayed composed, forcing his heart to remain steady even as it bled.

“Yes, President Shen,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Shen Wenlang hesitated for a moment, as though waiting for a spark, a reaction—anything. But Gao Tu remained silent, his calmness louder than any protest.

And somehow, that silence made Shen Wenlang angrier than words ever could.

“Get back to work,” Shen Wenlang ordered, his voice clipped and cold. “And next time, remember—you don’t need to rely on anyone else. You work for me. Only me.”

Chapter Text

The office was quieter than usual.

Gao Tu, who used to greet everyone with a soft smile, now moved like a shadow—efficient, quiet, invisible. He spoke only when necessary, his polite tone sounding rehearsed, distant.

Shen Wenlang noticed. He noticed everything.

---

“President Shen, here’s today’s schedule,” Gao Tu said, placing the file on his desk without looking directly at him.

Shen Wenlang stared at him for a moment, expecting at least a glance or the small, unintentional smile Gao Tu always gave. But Gao Tu was already turning away, heading for the door.

“Wait,” Shen Wenlang said.

Gao Tu paused, hands clasped in front of him. “Yes, President Shen?”

The formal tone struck something inside him, but Shen Wenlang only said, “There’s a meeting at three. Don’t be late.”

“Understood.” Gao Tu bowed slightly and left.

The door clicked shut, and for some reason, the silence felt heavier than before.

---

Over the next few days, Shen Wenlang found himself watching Gao Tu more than usual. He saw the way Gao Tu kept his head down, the way he never laughed with co-workers anymore. Even his movements felt smaller, as if he were afraid of taking up space.

It was irritating.
No, it was worse—it made something inside Shen Wenlang twist uncomfortably.

---

One evening, after everyone else had gone home, Shen Wenlang saw Gao Tu still at his desk, carefully sorting through files.

“Why are you still here?” Shen Wenlang asked, stepping out of his office.

Gao Tu looked up briefly. “I had some tasks left, President Shen. I’ll leave once I finish.”

His voice was polite but distant, like he was talking to a stranger.

Shen Wenlang frowned. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

Gao Tu hesitated for a second but quickly shook his head. “I apologize if that’s inappropriate. I’ll… try to do better.”

Shen Wenlang’s brows furrowed. That wasn’t what he meant.

“That’s not—” He stopped, unsure how to finish. “Never mind. Just… go home early.”

“Yes, President Shen.”

Gao Tu’s obedience stung in a way Shen Wenlang couldn’t explain. He turned away, but the image of Gao Tu’s tired eyes lingered, gnawing at him.

---

That night, Shen Wenlang couldn’t sleep.

"Why does it bother me so much? " he thought, staring at the ceiling. "Why do I hate seeing him like this?"

And for the first time, Shen Wenlang wondered if his harshness had gone too far.

Chapter Text

Shen Wenlang was not the type to apologize.
Not with words. Not when it came to feelings.

But Gao Tu’s quietness was driving him insane.

It had been days since Gao Tu even looked him in the eye. He did his work perfectly, without complaint, but his silence felt heavier than any argument. Shen Wenlang hated it—hated the cold distance where warmth used to be.

So, he decided to do something about it.

---

That afternoon, after Gao Tu handed over the last set of reports, Shen Wenlang stood up from his desk and said, “Come with me.”

Gao Tu blinked, confused. “President Shen? Do we have another meeting?”

“No.” Shen Wenlang grabbed his coat. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“But… I still have files to—”

“I said now.” His tone left no room for protest.

---
They ended up in a quiet, upscale restaurant in the city. The kind of place Gao Tu had only seen in magazines.

He looked around nervously as they sat down. “President Shen… is this about work? Did I make a mistake again?”

Shen Wenlang didn’t answer immediately. He scanned the menu, pretending to be uninterested. “You’ve been working non-stop. You need to eat properly.”

“Oh.” Gao Tu hesitated, unsure how to respond.

“What? You don’t eat?” Shen Wenlang’s voice carried its usual sharpness, but there was a flicker of something else underneath—concern.

“No, I just… I didn’t think you’d invite me.”

Shen Wenlang’s gaze snapped to him. “It’s not an invitation. Think of it as… work-related.”

Gao Tu forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Right. Of course.”

---

They ate in silence for a while. Shen Wenlang kept glancing at him, annoyed by how Gao Tu seemed to shrink into himself even here.

Finally, he put down his chopsticks. “Are you going to stay this quiet forever?”

Gao Tu froze mid-bite. “I… I just don’t want to bother you, President Shen.”

The way Gao Tu said President Shen—like there was an unbreakable wall between them—made something in Shen Wenlang tighten.

“You’re not bothering me,” Shen Wenlang said, his voice low but firm. “Just… stop looking like the world’s ending every time I talk to you.”

Gao Tu stared at him, unsure if that was supposed to be an apology.

For a moment, Shen Wenlang looked like he wanted to say more. To admit something. But his pride held him back.

Instead, he muttered, “Eat more. You’re too thin. You became ugly.”

Chapter Text

The dinner left Gao Tu more unsettled than comforted.

Shen Wenlang hadn’t apologized. Not really. But he had taken him to a place so expensive that Gao Tu felt out of place just holding the silverware. He’d told him to eat more. He’d even made sure Gao Tu got home safely that night, driving him all the way to his small apartment without a word.

It was confusing.
Why does he do this? Why is he so harsh one moment, then… like this the next?

---

The next day at work, Shen Wenlang was back to his usual self—cold, demanding, issuing orders like a general on the battlefield.

“Gao Tu, coffee. Strong, no sugar.”

“Yes, President Shen.”

“The meeting notes from yesterday—rewrite them. The formatting is sloppy.”

“Understood, President Shen.”

No matter how sharp Shen Wenlang’s words were, Gao Tu took them all quietly. His composure never broke. But deep inside, the words scraped like glass.

---

Later that afternoon, while Gao Tu was filing documents, Shen Wenlang passed by and paused.

“Did you eat lunch?” he asked suddenly.

Gao Tu looked up, startled. “I… haven’t yet. I was finishing this report first.”

Shen Wenlang’s brows furrowed. “You’ll get sick skipping meals. Go eat now.”

Gao Tu blinked. “But I still need to—”

“I said eat.” His tone was firm but not unkind this time.

---
As Gao Tu sat in the pantry with his lunch, he couldn’t help thinking about the contradiction that was Shen Wenlang.

He was cruel.
He was caring.
He was impossible.

But why… why does my chest hurt whenever I think about him?

---

That evening, as Gao Tu gathered his things to leave, Shen Wenlang called out from his office.

“I’ll drive you home.”

Gao Tu hesitated. “Oh… that’s not necessary, President Shen. I can take the bus—”

“I wasn’t asking.”

And just like that, Gao Tu found himself sitting in Shen Wenlang’s car again, the silence between them heavy but not unpleasant.

Chapter Text

The weekend had given Gao Tu a brief reprieve from Shen Wenlang’s confusing moods. He spent it with an old friend—an omega he had known since childhood, someone who understood him without needing explanations.

They met at a small café, shared cheap coffee, and laughed about silly things. Gao Tu felt lighter, just for a moment, forgetting the constant pressure of the office and Shen Wenlang’s cold gaze.

But when he received a message from Shen Wenlang reality hit him again.

---
As Gao Tu walked into Shen Wenlang’s office, holding a fresh stack of documents, the atmosphere shifted immediately. Shen Wenlang, who had been reading over reports, suddenly stilled.

His eyes narrowed.

“What’s that smell?” His voice was sharp, almost venomous.

Gao Tu froze. “P-President Shen?”

Shen Wenlang’s gaze turned colder, his lips curling in disgust. “You smell like trash.”

The words struck Gao Tu like a blow, his chest tightening with confusion and embarrassment.

“I… I was just with a friend before work—”

“An omega?” Shen Wenlang’s tone was like steel. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? That disgusting, sickly-sweet smell.”

Gao Tu bit his lip hard, lowering his head. He wanted to say something, to defend his friend, but his throat closed.

Shen Wenlang stood up, his anger simmering. “Don’t come into my office smelling like that again.”

“…Yes, President Shen.”

---

The rest of the day, Gao Tu moved through the company like a ghost. He couldn’t shake the sting of those words. It wasn’t just that Shen Wenlang hated omegas—it was that, without knowing it, he was hating him.

The scent suppressants were working, but what if one day they failed? What if Shen Wenlang discovered what he truly was?

Would he look at me with even more disgust?

Chapter Text

The day after his cruel outburst, Shen Wenlang found himself restless.

He remembered the way Gao Tu’s expression had fallen when he called him trash. He wasn’t the type to regret his words—but for some reason, the image of Gao Tu quietly bowing his head, swallowing the pain without a single complaint, lingered in his mind.

Why does he just take it? Why doesn’t he fight back?

The thought irritated him even more.

---

When Gao Tu arrived at his office that morning, his usual polite smile was gone. He looked pale, as though the weight of yesterday’s words was still pressing down on him.

Shen Wenlang’s brows knitted, but instead of softening, his tone came out sharp.

“You went out with that friend again?”

Gao Tu blinked. “No, President Shen. I came straight to work.”

“Good,” Shen Wenlang said curtly, as if he had the right to dictate Gao Tu’s personal life. “You shouldn’t spend time with… those kinds of people.”

Gao Tu hesitated. “Those kinds…?”

“Omegas,” Shen Wenlang said flatly, his voice low and cold. “They’re trouble. Fragile, manipulative. You don’t need people like that around you.”

The words pierced Gao Tu deeper than Shen Wenlang could ever know, but he simply lowered his gaze.
“…Understood, President Shen.”

---

Shen Wenlang stared at him for a long moment, expecting resistance, but Gao Tu stayed still and obedient. Something about that quiet compliance made Shen Wenlang feel… unsettled.

So, instead of apologizing, he said the one thing that came to mind.

“From now on, if you’re going somewhere, tell me. I’ll take you there.”

Gao Tu looked up, startled. “President Shen… that’s not necessary—”

“It wasn’t a suggestion.” Shen Wenlang’s voice was firm, almost possessive. “You work for me. I don’t want anyone—anything—interfering with that.”

---
That night, when Gao Tu finally got home, he felt drained.

Shen Wenlang’s words were still stuck in his head, twisting into something sharp.
Why do I let him say these things to me? Why does it hurt so much when it’s him?

Chapter Text

The week was brutal.
Back-to-back meetings, endless reports, and Shen Wenlang’s unpredictable moods left Gao Tu exhausted. His suppressants were wearing thin—he’d been so busy he hadn’t had time to refill his dosage.

By the third day, he was running on little sleep and sheer willpower.

---
During a tense meeting, Shen Wenlang handed him a stack of documents. “Check these contracts before the next client call. I don’t want a single mistake, Gao Tu.”

“Yes, President Shen,” Gao Tu replied quietly, bowing his head.

He stayed in the office late that night, hunched over his desk, hands trembling slightly from fatigue. His chest felt tight, his skin warm—signs he knew too well. The suppressants weren’t enough anymore.

---

When Shen Wenlang came back to the office unexpectedly, the first thing he noticed wasn’t Gao Tu’s exhaustion.

It was the scent.

A faint, sweet undertone in the air. Familiar. Unmistakable.

His entire body tensed.

“…What is that smell?” His voice was sharp, cold, almost dangerous.

Gao Tu froze, his pen slipping from his hand. “S-smell?”

Shen Wenlang’s eyes darkened as he stepped closer, his alpha instincts kicking in. “Don’t play dumb. That’s an omega’s scent.”

Gao Tu’s heart raced. He lowered his head, trying to control his breathing, but panic made his scent spike even more.

---

Shen Wenlang’s expression twisted with anger and confusion. “Why do you smell like that? Who were you with?!”

Gao Tu’s lips trembled. “I… I wasn’t with anyone, President Shen. I—”

“Don’t lie to me, Gao Tu!” Shen Wenlang slammed his hand on the desk, making Gao Tu flinch. “I told you I hate that smell. And now you’re bringing it here?!”

The words cut deep, but Gao Tu couldn’t respond. He simply lowered his head, swallowing the hurt like always, though his hands were shaking.

---

Shen Wenlang stared at him, his chest heaving. Something wasn’t adding up. Gao Tu had always registered as a beta. But that scent—he couldn’t ignore it.

Beta? Or… is he something else?

Chapter Text

Shen Wenlang couldn’t shake it.
That scent. That omega scent.

It lingered in his office long after Gao Tu left, faint but unmistakable—like it was burned into his memory.

But that’s impossible, he told himself. Gao Tu is a beta. I saw his files. He’s just a beta.

And yet… every instinct in him screamed otherwise.

---
The next day, Shen Wenlang’s eyes followed Gao Tu everywhere.
Every move.
Every breath.

When Gao Tu handed him reports, he leaned in slightly, as if testing the air. The scent was weaker now—suppressed again—but the memory of it clung to his mind like a splinter.

“President Shen, is something wrong?” Gao Tu asked softly when he caught Shen Wenlang staring.

Shen Wenlang snapped out of his thoughts. “No. Get back to work.”

But the unease in his chest wouldn’t go away.

---
That night, after everyone had left the company, Shen Wenlang stayed behind, sitting in the dim glow of his office. He opened Gao Tu’s employee file on his laptop.

Name: Gao Tu
Gender: Male
Secondary Gender: Beta

Everything was clean, official. Too clean.

If he’s a beta, why did I smell an omega’s scent?

He frowned, tapping his pen against the desk. Could he be lying?

The thought irritated him more than it should. He wasn’t just annoyed—he was furious at the idea that Gao Tu might be hiding something from him.

---

The next day, Shen Wenlang called Gao Tu into his office.

“Were you with that friend again?” Shen Wenlang asked casually, but his voice carried a sharp undertone.

Gao Tu hesitated. “No, President Shen.”

“Then why—” He stopped himself, leaning back in his chair. His eyes narrowed. “Never mind. Just… don’t make me repeat myself about keeping distractions out of this office.”

Gao Tu bowed slightly, hiding the flicker of panic in his eyes. “…Yes, President Shen.”

---

Shen Wenlang watched him leave, his jaw tight.

Something’s not right. And I’m going to find out what it is.

Chapter Text

The week was relentless—meetings, deadlines, and the constant pressure of Shen Wenlang’s demanding pace. Gao Tu’s body felt like it was reaching its limit.

His suppressants were running low. The faint heat creeping under his skin was a warning sign he couldn’t ignore, but he pushed through anyway. He had no choice.

---

That afternoon, while reviewing contracts with Shen Wenlang, Gao Tu’s hands began to tremble. He gripped the pen tightly, trying to hide it, but when he stood to hand over the documents, the paper slipped from his grasp.

“Tsk.” Shen Wenlang’s eyes flicked to him sharply. “What’s wrong with you? Can’t even hold a simple file?”

Gao Tu bowed his head, voice soft. “I… I’m fine, President Shen. I just need a moment—”

But before he could step back, Shen Wenlang grabbed his wrist.

His touch stilled.
The moment their skin met, a faint sweetness hit Shen Wenlang’s senses again. Not strong, but enough to make his eyes narrow.

“…You’re pale.” Shen Wenlang’s voice lowered, almost hesitant. “Are you sick?”

Gao Tu shook his head quickly, pulling back. “No, sir. I’m fine. I’ll continue with the reports—”

“Sit.”

The single word carried so much weight that Gao Tu froze. Shen Wenlang pointed to the couch in his office. “You’re shaking like a leaf, and I don’t need you fainting in the middle of a meeting. Sit down.”

---

Gao Tu obeyed quietly, perching at the edge of the couch while Shen Wenlang went to pour him a glass of water.

“…Thank you,” Gao Tu murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Shen Wenlang set the glass on the table, watching him carefully. The guilt he refused to acknowledge gnawed at him—he had been pushing Gao Tu too hard, snapping at him when he was already worn thin.

And then there was that scent again. Faint but there. Sweet, warm, and… distracting.

Shen Wenlang’s jaw tightened. “Tell me something, Gao Tu,” he said suddenly, his tone sharp. “Why do I keep smelling an omega scent around you?”

The question hit Gao Tu like lightning. His fingers tightened on the glass, his throat dry.

“I… I don’t know what you mean, President Shen.”

Shen Wenlang’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Chapter Text

The silence in Shen Wenlang’s office was suffocating.

Gao Tu sat rigid on the couch, his hands clasped tightly around the glass of water. His heart hammered so loudly he feared Shen Wenlang could hear it.

Shen Wenlang stood in front of him, arms crossed, his sharp gaze pinning him like a hawk to its prey.

“I’ll ask again,” Shen Wenlang said slowly, his voice low but cutting. “Why do I keep smelling an omega scent around you?”

Gao Tu’s breath caught. His mind scrambled for an excuse. A lie. Anything.
“I… I don’t know, President Shen. Maybe it’s from the clients I meet? Or… the staff?”

Shen Wenlang’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t play games with me, Gao Tu. I know what I smell.”

---

He took a step closer, and Gao Tu instinctively leaned back against the couch, clutching the glass until his knuckles turned white. The faint, suppressed sweetness of his scent spiked again—his nervousness making it harder to hide.

Shen Wenlang froze for a second, his jaw tightening. His voice dropped even lower, rougher.
“There it is again.”

Gao Tu’s chest tightened. He wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come.

---

Shen Wenlang crouched slightly, his face close enough that Gao Tu could feel his breath.
“Are you lying to me?”

The question wasn’t shouted. It was quiet, heavy, and accusing.

Gao Tu’s throat went dry. His lips parted, but the truth was a blade he couldn’t unsheathe.

“…No, President Shen,” he whispered, barely holding his composure.

Shen Wenlang searched his face for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he straightened, stepping back, but his voice was still edged with steel.

“Fine. But if I find out you’re keeping something from me…”
He didn’t finish the threat, but the weight of it lingered in the air.

---

When Shen Wenlang left the office, Gao Tu finally let out the breath he’d been holding. His hands trembled so badly the water rippled in the glass.

I can’t let him find out. I can’t.

Chapter Text

The office felt strangely quiet without Gao Tu.

Shen Wenlang noticed it the moment he walked in that morning. No soft greeting, no quiet shuffling of papers, no Gao Tu standing by his desk with the day’s schedule in hand.

He frowned, glancing at the empty spot by the door.
“Where’s Gao Tu?” he asked one of the staff passing by.

The assistant shifted nervously. “Ah… Secretary Gao requested a short leave, President Shen. He said he wasn’t feeling well.”

Shen Wenlang’s jaw tightened. “Not feeling well?” The words tasted sour. Gao Tu hadn’t called him. He hadn’t said a word.

---

By midday, Shen Wenlang couldn’t focus. He kept checking his phone, expecting a message that never came. His irritation grew with every passing hour.

Finally, he called.

The line rang. Once. Twice.
Then, a faint, shaky voice answered.
“President Shen…”

Shen Wenlang’s brows furrowed. Gao Tu sounded… wrong. His voice was softer, hoarse, like he was fighting to stay composed.

“What’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Shen Wenlang demanded, though his tone was more frustrated than harsh.

There was a pause on the other end. “…I just need a day or two. I’ll be fine. I’m sorry if I caused trouble—”

“Don’t apologize,” Shen Wenlang cut in, sharper than he intended. “Where are you? At home?”

“Yes, President Shen. I’m fine, really—”

“You don’t sound fine.”

---

Shen Wenlang ended the call before Gao Tu could argue, his irritation boiling over. It wasn’t just anger—it was something else. Worry. The kind of worry that clawed at him and made him want to storm over and see for himself.

He slammed the phone on his desk. Why do I care this much?

---

Meanwhile, in his tiny apartment, Gao Tu sat curled on his bed, his body warm and trembling. The heat was coming fast, the suppressants failing to hold it back anymore. He pressed his face against his knees, whispering to himself, Just hold on. Don’t let him know. Don’t let him see.

Chapter Text

Shen Wenlang lasted only half a day.

By late afternoon, his frustration reached its peak. He grabbed his keys, ignoring the startled looks from his staff as he left the office without explanation. His driver tried to ask where they were headed, but Shen Wenlang simply said:

“To Gao Tu’s address. Now.”

---

When he reached the small apartment building, Shen Wenlang found himself standing at the door to Gao Tu’s unit, fist raised. For some reason, he hesitated.

The thought of Gao Tu looking weak—sick, pale, vulnerable—twisted something deep in his chest.

Finally, he knocked.

“Gao Tu. Open the door.”

---

Inside, Gao Tu froze. His body was warm, too warm, sweat slicking his skin as the heat coiled in his veins. The suppressant he took that morning had done nothing. And now Shen Wenlang was here—an alpha, standing just on the other side.

I can’t… I can’t let him smell me like this.

“President Shen…” His voice cracked. “I… I’m not feeling well. Please just… go back, I’ll return to work tomorrow.”

---

Shen Wenlang’s brows furrowed. He hated how fragile Gao Tu’s voice sounded.
“Open the door, Gao Tu. Or I’ll break it down.”

There was no response. Just a muffled sound, like someone catching their breath.

Shen Wenlang’s hand pressed against the doorframe. That’s when he caught it—a faint, sweet, intoxicating scent. Not the sickly omega scent he despised, but something different. Softer. Pulling at him.

His jaw clenched. “…Gao Tu. What’s going on?” His voice was lower now, dangerous.

---

Inside, Gao Tu’s breath hitched. The scent was leaking. He couldn’t stop it. His body was betraying him, screaming what he had spent years hiding.

“I… I just need to rest,” he whispered, voice trembling.

Shen Wenlang’s instincts screamed to push, to demand answers, but something about Gao Tu’s tone stopped him. He stepped back, swallowing the irritation clawing at his throat.

“Fine,” he said through the door, voice rough. “But if you’re not better tomorrow, I’m coming in. No excuses.”

---

Gao Tu slid down to the floor after hearing his footsteps fade, his heart pounding.

I can’t hide this forever.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Gao Tu could barely stand.

His body was burning, every nerve sensitive, every breath laced with the faint sweetness of his heat. He’d run out of suppressants, and even if he had them, they wouldn’t be enough now.

He sent a quick message to the office:
“ Good morning President Shen I’m still unwell. I need one more day.”

But he didn’t realize that his absence only made Shen Wenlang more restless—and angry.

---

By noon, Shen Wenlang really had enough.

He’d spent the entire morning glancing at his phone, waiting for updates that never came. The lingering memory of Gao Tu’s fragile voice the day before gnawed at him.

Finally, he slammed his laptop shut.
“Prepare the car. I’m going to Gao Tu’s place.”

---

When Shen Wenlang arrived, he didn’t bother knocking this time. He pounded on the door once, then called out sharply:
“Gao Tu. Open up.”

Inside, Gao Tu froze. His body ached, his face flushed, and the scent of his heat filled the small apartment. He pressed his back to the door, praying Shen Wenlang would leave.

“President Shen, please… not now. I’m fine,” he croaked.

But the faint, irresistible sweetness seeped through the cracks of the door, hitting Shen Wenlang like a wave. His breath caught.
This scent… it’s him.

---

Shen Wenlang’s patience snapped. With one sharp motion, he forced the door open.

What he saw made his chest tighten.

Gao Tu was curled on the bed, pale and trembling, his skin glistening with sweat. His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by raw, vulnerable exhaustion.

And that scent—soft, warm, undeniably omega—wrapped around Shen Wenlang like a chain.

“…You’re not a beta.” His voice was low, dangerous, but laced with something else—shock.

---

Gao Tu’s lips parted, but no words came. He lowered his gaze, shame burning in his chest.

“You lied to me,” Shen Wenlang said, stepping closer. His tone wasn’t just angry—it was hurt, confused, like he couldn’t process what he was seeing. “All this time…”

Gao Tu’s throat tightened. “…No it's not like that, please President Shen stay away from me. I'm begging... Please....."

Chapter Text

The apartment felt stifling.

Shen Wenlang stood in the middle of the room, his sharp eyes locked on Gao Tu, who looked like he might collapse at any moment. The faint scent of his heat filled the air—soft, sweet, and utterly unignorable.

“You’ve been lying to me this whole time,” Shen Wenlang said, his tone low and cold. “You let me believe you were a beta. You—” He cut himself off, jaw clenching. His hands curled into fists.

Gao Tu didn’t respond. He sat still on the bed, his head bowed. He looked small. Fragile.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Shen Wenlang demanded, stepping closer. “Do you think I wouldn’t notice? Do you think I’m blind?”

“…Because you hate omegas.”

The quiet words stopped Shen Wenlang in his tracks.

---

Gao Tu’s voice trembled, but he forced the words out. “Every time you talk about them… the disgust on your face… the way you look at them like they’re beneath you. Do you think I’d ever admit what I am?”

Shen Wenlang’s chest tightened, but anger still simmered beneath his skin.

“So you just lied to me?” His voice was sharp. “You pretended, you hid this—”

“What choice did I have?” Gao Tu finally looked up, his eyes glassy, but steady. “Do you know what happens to omegas like me? I didn’t want your pity, or your hate. I just wanted to live quietly.”

---

For a long moment, silence filled the room. Shen Wenlang’s heart pounded, his instincts torn between anger and something he refused to name—something that flared when he saw the exhaustion on Gao Tu’s face.

Finally, he exhaled through his teeth, his tone dropping. “You’re burning up.”

Gao Tu blinked. “…What?”

“You’re in heat, aren’t you?” Shen Wenlang’s jaw tightened as he crouched slightly, his voice lower, almost rough. “Damn it, you’re shaking. You should’ve told me before it got this bad.”

---

When Shen Wenlang reached out, Gao Tu flinched. Not because he feared him, but because his body was hypersensitive, every alpha presence overwhelming his senses.

Shen Wenlang paused. His hand hovered for a moment, then he forced himself to step back.

“Stay put. I’ll get you medicine. You can’t stay like this.” His tone was still clipped, but there was an undertone of something almost protective.

Chapter Text

Shen Wenlang stayed that entire evening.

Despite the turmoil boiling inside him, he couldn’t bring himself to leave Gao Tu alone. He fetched water, adjusted the blanket when Gao Tu shivered, and—hesitating for a long moment—he finally did the one thing he’d sworn he’d never do.

He released his pheromones.

A soft, warm wave of his scent filled the room—subtle, steady, and grounding. Gao Tu’s feverish body tensed for a second, but soon, his breathing began to slow. The pained crease on his forehead eased as the calming influence of Shen Wenlang’s pheromones wrapped around him like an invisible shield.

As Shen Wenlang sat beside the bed, Gao Tu stirred faintly. In his sleep, he unconsciously shifted closer, his face brushing against Shen Wenlang’s arm as if drawn to the source of warmth and safety. Shen Wenlang froze, his chest tightening with an unfamiliar feeling—something between protectiveness and fear.

It wasn’t like him to care this much.
Not for anyone.
Especially not for an omega.

---

When Gao Tu finally fell asleep, face pale but peaceful, Shen Wenlang just stood there for a while. He didn’t know what unsettled him more—the quiet vulnerability on Gao Tu’s face, or the strange, protective ache twisting in his own chest.

He left quietly past midnight, locking the door behind him.

---

But when he got home, he couldn’t sleep.

He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts spinning like a storm. Gao Tu’s face. His voice. His scent. Everything about him crawled under Shen Wenlang’s skin and stayed there.

An omega.

The word itself was like a poison in his mind. Memories of his dad’s cruelty surfaced—the way his dad discarded his father, the way he treated everyone like property, like tools to control. That hatred ran deep, burned into Shen Wenlang’s bones.

And yet… when it came to Gao Tu, it didn’t feel the same.

---

Shen Wenlang sat up, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
Should I push him away? Fire him before he gets too close?
But the thought of not seeing Gao Tu in the office every day… irritated him even more.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

Sleep never came that night.

Chapter Text

When Shen Wenlang entered his office, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Gao Tu was there, quietly packing his things. His movements were slow and careful, like he didn’t want to make a sound. His eyes were downcast, his face unreadable.

Shen Wenlang’s chest tightened—but the frustration and sleeplessness from last night came out sharper than he intended.

“What are you doing?”

Gao Tu froze, clutching the papers in his hands.
“I… I think it’s better if I leave, President Shen. I don’t want to cause you trouble anymore. You hate omegas, and now that you know the truth about me…” His voice cracked slightly, but he quickly steadied it. “…I don’t belong here.”

---

Something inside Shen Wenlang snapped.

“Don’t belong here?” He took a step forward, his tone dripping with anger. “You think I don’t know that? You think I’d ever accept an omega—someone who’s been lying to my face—into my company?”

Gao Tu’s lips pressed into a thin line. His hands trembled slightly, but he didn’t respond.

---

Shen Wenlang wasn’t done. His voice turned cutting, cruel.
“Do you know what I hate the most? Pretenders. Weak, fragile things who put on a mask just to survive. That’s you, isn’t it? All this time, playing beta, hiding behind silence. Pathetic.”

Each word felt like a blade, but Gao Tu stood there, head bowed, accepting every wound without flinching.

---

“You think I need someone like you?” Shen Wenlang’s laugh was hollow. “An omega pretending to be something they’re not? You’re just another coward, Gao Tu. Always running, always hiding. People like you—”

He stopped abruptly, his chest heaving, anger and confusion twisting in his gut.

---

Gao Tu’s voice was soft but steady.
“…If that’s how you see me, then I’ll leave.”

There was no defense, no tears—just quiet acceptance, as if he expected nothing less.

Shen Wenlang felt something snap inside him, but he turned away. “Do whatever you want.” he muttered, his tone cold, even though his own words echoed bitterly in his chest. Even though the thoughts of not having Gao Tu besides him anymore hurts him the most.

Chapter Text

The apartment was quiet except for the soft rustle of cardboard boxes.

Gao Tu folded the last of his few belongings—worn clothes, secondhand books, and a chipped mug he used every morning at work. He placed them carefully inside, his hands trembling slightly. Every movement felt heavy, like he was packing away pieces of himself.

He paused when he saw the neatly folded blazer Shen Wenlang had once tossed over his shoulders on a rainy night when they left the library together. Gao Tu’s fingers lingered on the fabric before he folded it and placed it at the very bottom of the box, out of sight.

This is for the best.
He repeated the words over and over like a mantra, but it didn’t make the pain in his chest go away.

---

Meanwhile, Shen Wenlang sat at his desk, staring at the untouched reports in front of him.

The office was unusually quiet. Too quiet. No Gao Tu’s voice, no quiet footsteps, no subtle scent that he’d grown used to without realizing.

He clenched his pen, his thoughts a mess. Good. He’s gone. You said what needed to be said. You don’t need someone like him distracting you.

But every time he tried to focus, his mind replayed the moment Gao Tu stood there, taking every cruel word he’d thrown without even looking up. Not once had he fought back. Not once had he argued.

Why?

Why didn’t Gao Tu defend himself?

---

The memory twisted something sharp in Shen Wenlang’s chest. He stood abruptly, knocking the pen off his desk.
He hated this. The silence. The emptiness. The hollow feeling clawing at his ribs.

He grabbed his blazer and left the office.

---

That evening, Gao Tu taped the last box shut. He sat on the floor of his tiny apartment, hugging his knees.

Maybe this is what I deserve, he thought bitterly. I knew it would end like this. Someone like me… shouldn’t hope for more.

His phone vibrated. He stared at it for a long time but didn’t pick it up. He couldn’t. Not when his heart still ached from the words Shen Wenlang had spat at him.

---

Shen Wenlang, on the other hand, sat in his car outside Gao Tu’s apartment building, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

He didn’t even know why he was there.
Was it to apologize? To demand Gao Tu come back? Or to tell him… something he wasn’t ready to admit?

But when he looked up at the dark window of Gao Tu’s apartment, he didn’t move.
His dad's voice echoed in his head—harsh memories, cruel warnings about omegas being weak and deceitful.

And yet… why does it feel like I’m the one falling apart without him?

Chapter Text

It took Shen Wenlang two days to gather the courage.
Two days of restless nights, staring at his ceiling and replaying every word he had spat at Gao Tu—every cruel insult, every look of cold dismissal.

By the third day, he couldn’t take it anymore.

---

The drive to Gao Tu’s apartment felt longer than usual. Shen Wenlang’s hands gripped the steering wheel, his pulse quickening with each turn.

I’ll just tell him the truth. I’ll… I’ll apologize.
The word apologize tasted strange, almost foreign, but this time, he didn’t care about pride.

---

He stood outside Gao Tu’s door, hand poised to knock. For a moment, he hesitated—unsure if Gao Tu would even open the door after everything.
But when he finally knocked… silence answered.

Shen Wenlang frowned. He knocked again, harder this time. “Gao Tu? It’s me. Open the door.”

Still, no answer.

---

Something felt wrong. He tried the handle. It was unlocked.

When he pushed the door open, his chest tightened at the sight that greeted him.
The apartment was empty. The shelves were bare, the table cleared. The faint smell of Gao Tu lingered in the air, but it was fading fast.

On the counter, there was only a small piece of paper. Shen Wenlang stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as he picked it up.

“Thank you for everything, President Shen.
I’m sorry for causing you trouble.

—Gao Tu”

---

For a long time, Shen Wenlang just stood there, staring at the note.
The room felt suffocating. The silence screamed louder than any argument they’d ever had.

His throat felt tight. His chest ached in a way he couldn’t explain.

He’s gone.
The thought echoed in his head like a thunderclap.

---

Shen Wenlang crumpled the note in his fist, his jaw clenching. He hated this feeling—this loss, this emptiness clawing at him. For the first time in years, he felt like he’d pushed away something he couldn’t get back.

And it terrified him.

Chapter Text

Shen Wenlang sat at his desk, surrounded by reports and silence.
His once-sharp focus blurred by the weight of absence.
It had been days since he stepped into that apartment—
since he read the note that felt like a goodbye carved in paper cuts.

He thought he'd be okay.

He told himself Gao Tu leaving was for the best.
Less complicated. Less dangerous.
Less painful.

But his heart betrayed him.

---

Every time his office door creaked open, his head would lift—eyes alight with a fleeting spark of hope.

Was it him?
Was Gao Tu back?

But no.
Just another employee.
Another courier.
Another nobody.

His eyes dimmed a little more each time.

---

He'd stare too long at the chair across from him—the one Gao Tu used to sit in, fingers nervously tapping, scent barely detectable yet so familiar.

He started to hate that chair.
Because it reminded him of everything he pushed away.

---

He remembered the way Gao Tu had laughed—soft, unsure, like someone who wasn’t used to being happy.
The way he flinched at harsh tones.
The way he stayed quiet, even when his heart was breaking.

Shen Wenlang had seen it all.
He just didn’t look.

---

Then he tried to find him.
At first, lowkey.
Then desperate.

He called contacts.
Checked hospital records.
Even stalked old apartment listings.

But Gao Tu had vanished like smoke—
not even a trace, not even a shadow left behind.

---

And so Shen Wenlang sat in a room that once buzzed with certainty.
Now, it was just echoes and what-ifs.

What if he had believed him?
What if he had chosen him?
What if he had just said, “Don’t go.”

But he didn’t.
And now…
Every knock, every footstep, every turned doorknob just reminded him—

Gao Tu was never coming back.

Chapter Text

The city noise was different here.

It wasn’t as loud.
Not as heavy.
It didn’t press on Gao Tu’s chest the way it used to.

For once, he could hear his own thoughts.

---

The apartment was small, a little old, but clean.
No marble floors. No huge windows.
Just a simple place where he could finally be himself.

He sat by the window, holding a warm mug.
It was quiet.
Too quiet, maybe.
But it was peace.

And peace was something he hadn’t had in a long time.

---

He missed a lot of things.

His old routines.
Some people from the office.
The way Shen Wenlang used to look at him when he wasn’t angry.

But most of all,
he missed the version of himself who used to hope.

Now, he was just trying to survive.

---

Gao Tu unpacked slowly.
One box a day.
He wasn’t rushing anything anymore.

He didn’t have to watch his words.
Didn’t have to hide his scent.
Didn’t have to pretend.

Just Gao Tu.
Breathing.
Healing.
Trying.

---

He opened a drawer and saw the bottle of suppressant pills.
His hands froze.

He stared at it for a long time.

Then he threw it away.

No more hiding.

---

Outside, it started to rain.
Gao Tu pulled the blanket over his legs and leaned against the window.

Far away from Shen Wenlang,
from the company,
from everything—

He let himself cry.

But this time,
it wasn’t from pain.

It was the first step toward freedom.

Chapter Text

A week passed since Gao Tu left.

At first, everything felt wrong. Too quiet. Too calm. No more anxious glances over his shoulder. No scent blockers. No secrets.
But peace felt foreign.

The mornings were the hardest. He’d wake up expecting the ache in his chest to still be there—but day by day, it faded. He’d sit by the window, watching the sky change colors, and whisper to himself, “I’m okay.”

He began to try hobbies such as painting—messy strokes, fingers stained with color. He wrote things he never thought he’d say out loud. Not about Shen Wenlang, but about himself. About the child he used to be, the dreams he once had, and the hope he refused to bury again.

He tried new food. Took long walks barefoot in the grass. Laughed at silly things in cafés with his childhood friend that he once thought were too loud. Some nights, he still cried—but even the tears felt different now. Softer.

He was still healing. But his heart no longer felt heavy.

He wasn’t running anymore.

He was finally living.

Chapter Text

On the other side of healing—where peace had finally touched Gao Tu’s life—Shen Wenlang was still drowning.

He hadn’t smiled in weeks.
Not since the day he stepped into Gao Tu’s apartment and saw it—bare, lifeless, as if he had never been there at all.
Not since he found that folded piece of paper left on the counter, written in handwriting he had memorized like the back of his hand.

> “Thank you for everything, President Shen.
I’m sorry for causing you trouble.
—Gao Tu”

It was the kind of goodbye that didn’t scream or cry.
It whispered.
It closed the door softly.
And yet, it hit Shen Wenlang louder than any slammed door ever could.

---

He thought he’d be okay.
He told himself it was for the best—better for both of them.
But every passing day betrayed him.

He woke up expecting to hear footsteps in the hallway.
He reached across the bed and felt nothing but cold sheets.

---

A month passed like that.

And Shen Wenlang?
He became... dull.

The sharp, confident Alpha everyone once admired was now just a shell.
Unshaven. Eyes bloodshot. Cold coffee sitting untouched on his desk.
Reports stacked high, unread. Meetings missed. Decisions delayed.
His company—the empire he built with precision—was cracking.
Collapsing slowly, just like him.

And still, all he could do was sit at his desk and scroll through his gallery.
Picture after picture.
That one of Gao Tu laughing with chocolate ice cream on his nose.
That blurry one he secretly took when Gao Tu was focused on a book.
The selfie where they both looked... happy.

Shen Wenlang would stare at them until his chest ached.
Until he couldn’t breathe.

---

At night, he drank.
A lot.

The bitter taste of liquor became a familiar friend.
He cried. Alone.
Over and over again, whispering apologies into the empty dark.

“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, Gao Tu.”
“Please come back. Please…”

He tried calling.
Messaged every old contact.
Checked every hotel, clinic, and quiet place he could think of.

But Gao Tu was gone.
Not just physically. Emotionally. Spiritually.
He had set himself free.

And Shen Wenlang?

He was finally getting what he deserved.

---

The way Shen Wenlang’s life was falling apart—someone noticed.

His assistant saw the signs first: the missed reports, the blown-off deadlines, the bottles of wine that began replacing meals.
But the concern didn’t end there.

Somewhere overseas, a certain someone saw the headlines:

>“Rising Business Empire at Risk: Shen Wenlang’s Company Faces Sudden Downturn.”

A series of texts followed:

"What’s going on?"
"Pick up your damn phone."
"Are you okay?"

But there was no reply.

That was when the unnamed figure booked a flight back to the country.

Chapter Text

Gao Tu’s POV
---

For the first time in a long time, Gao Tu could finally say it:

He was free.
Not just physically. But in the way that mattered.

He was healing.

There were still days when the memories ached like old wounds—but they no longer bled. They no longer trapped him. And slowly, quietly, he started building a life that belonged to him.

He took the job to make ends meet, save up for his sister’s medical needs, and maybe… just maybe… for his dream.

A tiny shop.
A place near the ocean.
Somewhere peaceful—far from the noise of the city, far from everything that hurt.

Every day, after his morning shift, he’d write down ideas on a piece of paper. Doodles. Plans. Names for a small cafe or bookstore. Something warm. Something real.

He didn’t check the news much anymore, didn’t scroll through social media.

But one slow afternoon in the store, while restocking drinks near the fridge, he overheard it—just a group of office workers chatting near the cashier while paying for cigarettes and iced coffee.

“Did you see the latest about Shen Group?”
“It’s getting worse. Investors are pulling out fast.”

Gao Tu froze, juice can in hand.
He didn’t mean to listen.
Didn’t mean to care.

But that name—Shen Wenlang.

A subtle ache tightened in his chest.

He hadn’t expected the name to still affect him like this.

Before he could stop himself, he grabbed his phone from behind the counter and opened social media—something he hadn’t done in weeks. Maybe months.

His feed was flooded.

> [Shen Group Faces Collapse Amid CEO’s Disappearance]
[#ShenWenlang #ShenGroupDownfall trending]

His heart beat louder.

He didn’t know what to feel.

A part of him wanted to throw the phone into the bin.
Another part—

The part that still remembered how it felt to be seen, to be touched, to be wanted by Shen Wenlang—

Wanted to read every headline.

But not today.

Today, he chose silence.

He locked the phone. Slipped it into his pocket. And returned to the shelf.

The juice can was a little dented from how hard he’d held it.

But his hands weren’t shaking anymore.

He wasn’t that same person anymore.
He wouldn’t run back.
Not when he finally learned how to stand on his own.

He pretend that he didn't saw anything.
He just focused on the register, scanned another pack of gum, and smiled at the customer.

Because healing didn’t mean forgetting.
It meant choosing yourself—again and again—even when the past knocks at your door.

Chapter Text

Somewhere far, in another country...

He stared at the message thread for the twelfth time that day.

> [1:27 AM]
"Are you okay?"
"Please answer me."

No reply.

Of course.

He leaned back against the balcony wall, cigarette long gone cold between his fingers. The night was quiet here—too quiet. Nothing like the chaos back home.

He clenched his jaw, eyes flicking to the glowing headlines on his tablet.

> "Shen Group on the Verge of Collapse.
CEO Missing."

That last line made his stomach twist.

He didn’t care what the media thought. They could speculate all they wanted.

But he did care.

He was the only one who knew what kind of walls Wenlang had built around himself. Walls that even he couldn’t break through, not when it mattered most.

“Idiot,” he muttered to no one.

He flicked the cigarette over the railing and let it fall into the dark.

He had tried everything. Every way he could think of. Silent help. Loud help. Messages. Calls. Even through other people.

Still nothing.

He looked out at the horizon.

> "Please don’t disappear again."

He didn’t send that one.

He just typed it.

And let the blinking cursor blink back at him.

He didn’t press send.

Because maybe this time, he had to be the one who will breaks Shen Wenlang's wall.

Chapter Text

The moment he landed, he ran.

Not physically—but mentally, emotionally, spiritually—he was sprinting toward his brother.

He hadn’t seen Shen Wenlang in years, but the moment he heard about the collapse, the scandal, the silence… he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

The house was locked up.

The company was a ghost town.

The main office had an assistant that couldn’t even meet his eyes.

“He doesn’t come here anymore,” she muttered, “Hasn’t for weeks… but he still drinks. Some say he’s always at that old bar downtown—the one near the university district.”

It was the only lead he had.

And when he pushed through the creaky wooden door of that bar, the smell of cheap liquor and loneliness hit him all at once.

He spotted Shen Wenlang almost immediately.

Alone.

Glass in hand.

Hair a mess.

Eyes… dead.

He looked like a man who had lost something so precious, no amount of alcohol could bring it back.

He didn't speak up. Not yet.

He just stood there, hidden in the shadows, watching.

And wondering.

What happened to you, Ge?

Chapter Text

The man at the bar didn’t speak.

Not even when he approached.
Not even when he reached forward and took the shot glass from Shen Wenlang’s loose grip—just as it was about to hit his lips.

Shen Wenlang blinked.

Slow. Heavy. Confused.

“…What the hell…”

He stared at the man in front of him—familiar build, familiar eyes. But no. That couldn’t be. It wasn’t real.

“Must be the alcohol,” he muttered to himself, chuckling bitterly as he rubbed his temple. “Or the insomnia. I’m seeing ghosts now.”

But the hand was warm. Real.

And the cup was no longer in his own.

The man didn’t answer.
Just gently set the glass down on the bar.

Shen Wenlang slumped further against the counter, eyes dim.

“You look like shit,” the man muttered under his breath. Not loud. Not rude. Just tired.

But Shen Wenlang didn’t hear it. Or maybe he did, but didn’t have the energy to care. His head dropped forward.

The man sighed.

It wasn’t how he imagined this moment.
Not like this.

Not with him barely conscious, reeking of liquor and broken dreams.

But there was nothing left to do now.

He wrapped an arm around Shen Wenlang’s back and slowly pulled him up. The older man groaned, head lolling to the side like a child too exhausted to argue.

The walk out of the bar was silent. No one stopped them. No one asked questions.

And by the time they reached the car parked out front, Shen Wenlang had already passed out.

The man stared at his brother—at the sharp jaw now slack, the frown still faintly carved into his features, even in sleep.

Then he opened the door, gently helped him inside, and closed it with a soft click.

No words.
Not yet.

But soon.

Chapter Text

The first thing Shen Wenlang felt was pain.
Not the sharp kind, but the dull, throbbing type that pulsed behind his eyes like a drumbeat. His mouth was dry. His limbs heavy. His brain fogged.

He groaned, dragging a hand across his face as he sat up. He had no memory of how he got home. The last thing he remembered was drinking—too much of it—at that bar he always ended up in.

Then… someone. A hand stopping his drink. A blur of a face.

He blinked, slowly dragging himself to sit on the edge of the bed. His head pounded as he stood, but he followed the faint sound of something clinking in the kitchen.

He froze in the hallway.

There was a figure standing by the stove.

Slim. Familiar.
He squinted. The way the sunlight hit that person’s back—it almost looked like…

“…Gao Tu?”

The figure turned around.

And everything stopped.

It wasn’t him.

It wasn’t Gao Tu.

Shen Wenlang’s heart dropped as he stared at the person before him. The breath caught in his throat. For a second, it felt like he was dreaming—or hallucinating again.

But no.

The man across the kitchen was real. The same face. The same voice. But not the same person.

“…What the hell?” Shen Wenlang finally rasped. “When did you get here?”

The man, calm and composed as if he hadn’t just turned his brother’s world upside down, gently placed a mug on the counter and answered:

“A few hours after the news broke.”

Shen Wenlang stared at him.

“…You came back because of that?”

A faint nod. “Because of you.”

Shen Wenlang couldn’t speak. His knees felt weak. His hands were cold.

Chapter Text

Shen Wenlang's POV
---

The first thing Shen Wenlang felt was pain.
Not the sharp kind, but the dull, throbbing type that pulsed behind his eyes like a drumbeat. His mouth was dry. His limbs heavy. His brain fogged.

He groaned, dragging a hand across his face as he sat up. He had no memory of how he got home. The last thing he remembered was drinking—too much of it—at that bar he always ended up in.

Then… someone. A hand stopping his drink. A blur of a face.

He blinked, slowly dragging himself to sit on the edge of the bed. His head pounded as he stood, but he followed the faint sound of something clinking in the kitchen.

He froze in the hallway.

There was a figure standing by the stove.

Slim. Familiar.
He squinted. The way the sunlight hit that person’s back—it almost looked like…

“...Gao Tu?” he croaked.

The figure froze for half a second.

Then turned.

And it wasn’t him.

It was Shen Wenyu.

---

Shen Wenlang’s breath caught.
Shock crashed into his chest like ice water.

“Wenyu?”
“What the hell are you—how are you—?”

His brother raised an eyebrow, spatula still in hand. “Good morning to you too.”

Shen Wenlang stood up too quickly. “Wait—when did you get here? Why are you here?”

Wenyu’s smile faded.

“I saw the headlines,” he said simply. “All of them.”

He walked over, calm but firm.

“And I figured… someone had to check if you were still breathing.”

---

Shen Wenyu’s POV:

He didn’t know what exactly happened to his older brother.
He didn’t care about the details. He only cared that his brother looked like a shell of who he once was.

Especially after he saw all in the clips was his brother breaking in front of cameras, haunted and furious, falling apart in public the same way their family fell apart in private all those years ago.

Chapter Text

Shen Wenyu stayed.

He didn’t come with loud questions or judgments. Just silence, warmth, and presence—the kind that reminded Shen Wenlang of everything he tried to forget.

He brought food to the table.
He brought light to the dark corners of that penthouse.
He brought a therapist’s card and left it on the nightstand.

Shen Wenlang didn’t want to go.
Didn’t want to talk.
Didn’t want to heal.
But when it came to Shen Wenyu—his only brother, the one who stood beside him when the world was on fire—
…he listened.

Just once.

While Shen Wenlang was busy battling the ghosts in his chest, Shen Wenyu stepped into the lion’s den: the company.

Rumors were everywhere.
Investors pulled out.
People whispered the downfall of the once cold and perfect CEO.

But Shen Wenyu took control.
He cleaned up the mess, combed through every crack, and rebuilt what his brother broke with grief.

He promised—
“I’ll give it back once you're better.”
“I’ll clear your name.”
“I’ll make them forget everything except who you really are.”

And maybe, for the first time in a long while, Shen Wenlang believed someone.

Chapter Text

Shen Wenyu's POV
---

The office smelled different.

It had only been weeks since his last visit, but something about the air felt heavier. As if the walls had absorbed the chaos Shen Wenlang left behind.

Wenyu adjusted his tie, expression calm, but his stomach twisted. Not out of fear—but duty. His brother built this empire, and now it teetered like glass on the edge of a shelf.

He stepped into the CEO’s office.

Stacks of unopened envelopes, legal threats, and printed articles about “Shen Wenlang’s downfall” greeted him. He didn’t flinch.

Instead, he turned to his assistant.
“Clear my afternoon. I want a full audit. And bring me the department heads, one by one.”

He wasn't going to let it collapse—not on his watch.

---

Later that evening, at the apartment…

Wenlang didn’t say much. He never did, not when he was hurting.

He sat on the couch, hunched over, eyes dull. The hangover had faded, but the damage lingered—inside and out.

Wenyu placed a warm bowl of soup in front of him.
“You’re not a burden,” he said, not expecting a response. “I’ll handle things until you’re ready.”

Still silence.

“And when you are,” he added gently, “this company will still be yours. Your name will be cleared. I promise.”

Wenlang blinked slowly. Then finally—finally—gave a small nod.

Wenyu sat beside him, exhaustion in his bones but steadiness in his voice.
“I found a therapist for you. Don’t fight me on this.”

Wenlang didn’t answer. But he didn’t argue either.

And that was enough—for now.

Chapter Text

Shen Wenyu stood outside the therapist’s office, fingers tapping idly against his coat sleeve. The door was slightly open, muffled voices slipping through, but he didn’t listen in. Not really.

He hadn’t seen his brother in nearly a week—not since he officially took over the company’s reins, not since Shen Wenlang mumbled a quiet “do whatever you want” and locked himself in his room. Now here he was, CEO on paper, emotional support brother in practice, and wondering if he was doing either thing right.

The door clicked. Shen Wenlang stepped out, jaw clenched and eyes tired. Still as unreadable as ever.

“I didn’t know you’d come,” he muttered.

“You said I could,” Wenyu replied simply.

They walked in silence toward the car. But as they sat inside, Shen Wenyu cleared his throat. “uhmmm…”

Shen Wenlang didn’t look at him.

“It’s been a week since I took over,” Wenyu said. “I’ve been checking through the departments, adjusting things. Your assistant’s been helping—he’s efficient, really. But… why don’t you have a secretary?”

Wenlang’s stare flicked toward him, sharp and cold.

“I don’t need one.”

Wenyu blinked. “But—”

“The assistant is doing enough. Don’t hire anyone.”

A beat. Wenyu raised a brow. “O…kay. Just asking.”

Shen Wenlang leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. “Don’t replace him,” he said softly.

Wenyu frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Chapter Text

The rain tapped gently against the wide windows of the therapy center.

Shen Wenlang sat still, hands resting on his lap as the therapist finished noting something in her journal. The session had ended ten minutes ago, but he hadn’t moved. Not yet.

He stared at his own reflection on the glass—same sharp eyes, same resting scowl, same ever-present stiffness in his shoulders.

But something was different now.

Not in the mirror. In him.

He hadn’t expected this. Not from sitting on a couch once a week, being told to talk about things he had buried for years. But… here he was. Thinking differently. Breathing easier. Letting go—slowly.

He had changed.

And not just because he wasn’t angry all the time anymore. It was something deeper. He felt things clearer. Like peeling off fogged glass and finally seeing the world for what it was.

His brother had a lot to do with that.

Shen Wenyu.

His twin. His polar opposite.

The thought made Wenlang scoff quietly. Same face, same voice. But everything else? Worlds apart.

Where Wenlang was silent and guarded, Wenyu laughed too loud. Where Wenlang protected by staying distant, Wenyu loved by being present.

He remembered the way Wenyu followed him like a puppy when they were kids—small hands grabbing the edge of his shirt, soft voice calling "Gege, wait!" even when he was mad or crying.

Wenlang always thought strength was about silence. About control. About keeping your fists clenched even when you were breaking inside.

Wenyu? Wenyu cried when people yelled. Hugged strangers. Forgave easily, even when they didn’t deserve it.

They were built differently.

Wenlang frowned, leaning back in his seat. But maybe… that wasn’t a bad thing.

He remembered something Wenyu once said: “Not everything that hurts is an enemy, Lang-ge. Sometimes it’s just trying to teach you something.”

He never forgot that.

He used to hate Omegas because of their dad. Because all he saw in them was weakness. Submission. Chaos.

But Wenyu saw their dad differently. He looked at the man and saw a hero. A flawed one—but someone's worth loving.

Maybe both of them were wrong.

Or maybe both of them were right.

But the only thing Shen Wenlang knew for sure now was this:

He's becoming better.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t hate who he was becoming.

Chapter Text

After so many months, Shen Wenlang changed—not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too. The once cold and closed-off man now carried a calmness in his aura. His face, once constantly shadowed by a frown, had softened. The bravery was still there, the quiet and stoic nature remained, but now… he smiled. He laughed. He learned how to forgive.

His therapy sessions had finally ended. It wasn’t easy—it took time, effort, and breaking down all the walls he had built around himself. But he made it.

Shen Wenyu couldn’t be prouder. He never expected that he would be the one to change his older brother, but it happened. The twin who was once quiet and unreachable had opened up to the world, piece by piece, because Wenyu never gave up on him.

To celebrate the final therapy session, Shen Wenyu prepared a surprise party. He invited only the people close to them, decorated the place with little things Wenlang used to love as a child—quiet colors, clean space, simple food. No loud music, just warmth.

When Shen Wenlang arrived, his sharp eyes scanned the room. He didn’t cry. He didn’t smile too widely. But he looked at his brother, nodded once, and said with a voice filled with quiet sincerity,
“Thank you.”

And just like that—Shen Wenyu burst into tears.

The younger twin tried to hold it in, biting his lip, blinking fast, but it was useless. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he threw himself forward, wrapping Shen Wenlang in a hug.

“You idiot,” he sniffled, “You’ve never thanked me before! Don’t just drop that on me like it’s normal!”

Wenlang stood there, stiff at first. But then, his arms slowly lifted and returned the hug—awkwardly, but genuinely.

“You’re such a crybaby,” he muttered under his breath.
He even show a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

And in that moment, everything felt right again.

Chapter Text

Days passed peacefully since Shen Wenlang had returned to himself. He was sharper now—more grounded. The cold edge in his voice was still there, but it was no longer laced with pain or anger. Just strength.

One morning, Shen Wenyu walked into the office and found Shen Wenlang already there, reviewing the company’s growth reports. Numbers were steady. Projects were thriving. All the things Wenyu had quietly built while his brother was healing were now in safe hands again.

With a small smile, Shen Wenyu slid the company documents across the table.

“I’m giving it back to you,” he said.
Wenlang raised an eyebrow.
“You sure?”
Wenyu nodded. “It was always yours. I was just holding it until you came back.”

Wenlang stared at the papers, then looked at his brother. A rare flicker of pride passed in his eyes.
“You didn’t just keep it afloat, Wenyu. You saved it.”

Wenyu was taken aback after what Wenlang said to him.
" Wow the therapy session really worked".

Wenlang rolled his eyes when Wenyu jokely said that.

Wenlang knew he owed him more than just words.

That evening, he handed Wenyu an envelope. Plane tickets. Bookings.Money.
“You never had a chance to explore the country because of me. Now you do.”

Shen Wenyu’s eyes widened.
“A vacation? Seriously?”
Wenlang just gave him a firm look.
“You need it. That’s final.”

Wenyu tried to argue, of course. Tried to wiggle out with excuses and dramatic sighs.
“But there’s still so much work to—”
“You’re going,” Wenlang cut him off, cool as always.

Wenyu groaned, but deep down, he was literally so excited.
He’d never win against his older brother anyway.

And Wenyu secretly celebrate while holding that envelope with his eyes full beam.

Chapter Text

Even after Shen Wenyu received the vacation offer, he didn’t leave right away.

He packed his things. Unpacked. And then packed it again.

Truth was—he just couldn’t bring himself to go.

Not yet.

Every day, he found himself sneaking back into the company. Not as the boss anymore, but as a silent observer. Disguised under a hoodie, slipping past staff unnoticed, he’d peek through the office windows, just watching his brother.

Shen Wenlang looked composed—back in his element, focused, stable—but Wenyu’s heart still couldn’t let go of the habit of worrying. He had carried the weight of the company and his brother’s pain for too long. Letting go wasn’t easy.

One afternoon, as he crouched by the hallway corner just outside Wenlang’s office—again—he peeked through the glass. Watching.

What he didn’t realize was that Shen Wenlang saw him.

Not directly. He never turned his head. But through his peripheral vision, he saw the familiar figure lurking.

He let out a sigh, didn’t even look up from his paperwork.

“Just go,” Shen Wenlang said calmly. “Don’t worry about me.”

Shen Wenyu’s eyes widened. Caught.

Slowly, he stood up from behind the wall, brushing the dust from his pants. Then, he met his brother’s eyes through the glass, lips curling into the warmest smile he’d ever given.

He mouthed, softly but full of sincerity:
“Thank you, gege.”

For a second, Wenlang didn’t react. But Wenyu swore he saw the corners of his brother’s mouth twitch into the faintest smile.

Chapter Text

Shen Wenyu finally go.

He didn’t want luxury, noise, or adventure. What he longed for was warmth—something gentle, something quiet. A place untouched by the city’s rush, somewhere people lived slowly and kindly.

When the plane landed, Wenyu stepped into a town barely mentioned on maps. It wasn’t famous or busy. That’s exactly why he chose it.

Instead of checking into a hotel, he searched for a small apartment. He wanted to live—not just stay. He wanted to wake up to the sound of birds, not traffic. He wanted to carry a woven basket to the market, cook his own food, and watch the sunset from a window that didn’t overlook skyscrapers.

Eventually, he found a place. Small, cozy, a little old—but it felt right.

As he unpacked his things, he paused and took a deep breath by the window. The air was crisper here. Softer. Kinder. The wind felt like it carried stories, not deadlines.

He looked around, listening to the distant chatter of neighbors and the rustling of leaves. For once, life felt… light.

And maybe, just maybe, this is what he had been searching for all along.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Shen Wenyu decided to look around town.

Everything just felt… different here. The air was lighter, the streets were quieter, and there was this warm, peaceful vibe that made him feel like he could actually breathe. This was the kind of life he always wanted to try—even just for a while.

As he walked around, admiring the houses and the small stores, he couldn’t help but think of his brother.

Wenlang would probably like this place too, he thought. It was calm, slow-paced, and far from the stressful city and business world. But bringing him here wasn’t an option—his gege was too busy keeping everything under control.

So Wenyu just smiled to himself and kept walking.

---

That evening, he got lazy to cook, so he headed to the nearby convenience store. He just wanted a quick meal—something easy, maybe a cup ramen or microwavable rice bowl.

He was checking the shelves when he noticed the guy at the counter staring at him. Like, really staring.

Wenyu frowned a bit, glanced behind him to check if maybe someone else was there, but no—it was definitely him the guy was looking at.

He raised an eyebrow and walked over. “Is something wrong with my face or what?”

The guy blinked like he just woke up from a trance, then quickly shook his head. “No—I’m sorry.”

Weird.

Shen Wenyu just shrugged it off.

Maybe he’s tired. Or seeing things. It’s already evening, after all.

He didn’t think much of it anymore. People had their weird moments. No big deal.

After paying at the counter, he noticed something else—the guy wasn’t staring anymore. In fact, he was completely avoiding eye contact now, head down, eyes glued to the scanner like his life depended on it.

Wenyu tilted his head slightly. That was… a shift.

He watched quietly as the guy scanned his stuff, and that’s when he saw it—the dude’s hands were shaking. Not too much, but just enough to catch Wenyu’s attention.

“You okay?” he asked, a bit softer this time.

The guy just nodded quickly, still not looking at him.

When he finished scanning, he whispered a barely audible, “Thank you.”

Wenyu blinked. What?

He almost asked him to repeat it, but the guy had already stepped back like he wanted this interaction to end ASAP.

Weird. Really weird.

Wenyu left the store with his food, a confused frown tugging at his lips.

He didn’t know what that was about.

But it kind of stuck with him.

Chapter Text

Shen Wenyu didn’t really think much about that weird convenience store moment.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

But for some reason, that guy’s face—tired eyes, shaking hands, that barely-there “thank you”—kept popping up in his head at the most random times. It was annoying. Like a thought you couldn’t shake off no matter how small it seemed.

Still, he figured he’d never see the guy again anyway.

Well… so he thought.

Because exactly one week after that strange little run-in, their paths crossed again—this time, in a much more chaotic way.

Wenyu was just out on his own, doing his thing, minding his business. The weather was nice, and he was kind of enjoying the quiet.

That’s when he saw him.

The guy from the convenience store.

He was across the street, walking distractedly—head low, probably lost in thought. He didn’t even notice the go or stop sign. And then—

A car was coming.

Fast.

Shen Wenyu didn’t even think. His body moved on instinct.

He ran across, reached the guy just in time, and yanked him back to safety.

The car zoomed past them with a loud honk.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Wenyu snapped, heart pounding in his chest as he looked at the guy now pressed against him, wide-eyed.
“You didn’t even look before crossing! What were you thinking?!”

The guy looked completely stunned—like he couldn’t process what just happened.

And for a split second, Wenyu saw it again—that same shaken look from the convenience store.

---

The guy barely realized what just happened.

Shen Wenyu had yanked him back just in time—literally seconds before a car sped past the lane he was about to step into. For a moment, the world stood still. All Wenyu could hear was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“You okay?” he asked, still holding onto the guy’s wrist.

The guy blinked, clearly shaken. He looked up at Wenyu like he couldn’t believe he was real. Again with that look. Like he was staring at a ghost.

“I—I didn’t see the sign,” the guy muttered, voice barely there.

Wenyu let go of his wrist. “Clearly.”

There was an awkward silence. The guy looked down, his face red now—not from embarrassment alone, but maybe from something else.

“You again,” Wenyu finally said, squinting a little. “You work at that convenience store, right?”

The guy stiffened.

Wenyu tilted his head. “Do I… look like someone you know?”

“No,” the guy said quickly. Too quickly.

Wenyu raised a brow but didn’t push it. He wasn’t in the mood to pry into someone else’s weird behavior. But something about this guy was off. Not in a bad way, just… like he was hiding something.

Still, Wenyu didn’t have the energy to care too deeply. He was just here for peace, remember?

“Be careful next time,” he said simply. “You almost got yourself killed.”

Then he walked off, shoving his hands into his pockets—trying to ignore the way his mind kept replaying the look in that guy’s eyes. That same haunted expression from the store.

What the hell was that all about?

Chapter Text

Gao Tu's POV
---

It had been months.

Months since Gao Tu left it all behind—the pain, the pretending, the weight of keeping everything bottled up. And now?

He was okay.

No—he was good.

He was waking up without feeling like he couldn’t breathe. He was smiling without forcing it. He was working a job he liked, saving up, and slowly chasing the dreams he once thought were impossible.

He could finally say he was proud of himself. For walking away. For choosing himself. For being brave enough to step out of that box he locked himself in for so long.

And sometimes he’d wonder—what if that night didn’t happen? What if he just kept pretending, kept holding it all in?

Maybe he’d still be stuck.

Maybe he’d still be hurting.

But that didn’t matter now. He was free. And he was happy.

Today was supposed to be just another normal day. Busy, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He was stocking shelves like usual, humming under his breath.

Then a soft ding rang out from the entrance.

He didn’t bother looking—he rarely did. But after a few minutes, when he moved behind the counter to scan a customer’s items, he felt it.

That weird pull in his chest.

And when he finally looked up…

Everything stopped.

There he was.

Same face. Same sharp eyes. Same height, build, jawline. Same everything.

Except… he was softer. The anger that used to sit behind those eyes wasn’t there. His posture was relaxed. His voice—when he said a quiet “good evening”—was calm. Gentle.

And he looked at Gao Tu like he was just another stranger.

Like he didn’t recognize him at all.

Gao Tu’s fingers hovered in the air, frozen mid-scan. He didn’t even realize he was staring. Didn’t realize how obvious it was until the guy tilted his head a little, confused.

“Is something wrong with my face or what?” he asked.

That voice.

It was him. But not.

Gao Tu quickly looked down, mumbling a “No— I'm sorry” and finishing the scan like nothing happened. But his hands were shaking slightly. His mind already spiraling.

Why was he acting like he didn’t know him?

Why did he look… different?

Why was this happening now, just when Gao Tu thought he was finally okay?

He bit the inside of his cheek as he gave the change. The guy thanked him with a small smile and a little confused face while he walked out.

And Gao Tu stood there, staring at the door long after it closed.

Chapter Text

Gao Tu couldn’t stop thinking about it—that weird encounter.

The guy looked just like Shen Wenlang. Same face, same voice, same everything. But he wasn’t. Or at least, he didn’t act like it. And that’s what messed him up the most.

After everything, Gao Tu thought he was doing fine. He was doing fine. He had healed, gotten his life back on track, and started chasing the dreams he once buried. He was proud of himself—proud of the decision he made to leave and start over. Life felt lighter now.

But that random moment at the store? It cracked something in his chest.

Was that really Shen Wenlang?
If it was, why was he acting like he didn’t even know him?

Gao Tu tried to brush it off. Maybe Wenlang had hit his head too hard after the company crash and forgot everything. Or maybe it was all just in Gao Tu’s head. Either way, the image stuck—refusing to leave his mind no matter how many times he told himself to let it go.

And now, on a random morning, Gao Tu walked to work like usual. He was about to cross the pedestrian lane.

But his head was elsewhere—eyes unfocused, brain foggy.
He kept thinking and thinking and—

HOOONK!

Before he could react, someone yanked him back—hard. Their bodies slammed together.

“Are you out of your mind?!” the man snapped, voice sharp but oddly gentle. “You didn’t even look before crossing! What were you thinking?!”

Gao Tu blinked, still stunned. His heart pounded—not from the near-accident, but because it was him again.

That guy.

That Wenlang.

Still the same face. Still that weirdly familiar tone. Still pretending not to know him.

“I—I’m sorry… I didn’t see the sign…” Gao Tu mumbled, eyes wide. He kept staring, like he was trying to find something in the guy’s eyes. Recognition? A hint? Anything.

But the guy just kept scolding him—softly. Like he actually cared.

“I didn’t mean to… but really, thank you. I mean it,” Gao Tu added quietly, careful not to say his name.
Just in case.

Just in case this version of Wenlang didn’t remember.

Or just didn’t want to.

There was a pause. An awkward silence.
Then the guy broke it.

“Do I… look like someone you know?”

Gao Tu’s heart skipped.
He quickly shook his head.

“No.”

Because in his mind, Wenlang must’ve had amnesia—that’s the only explanation for why he couldn’t remember.
And maybe, just maybe… it was better not to tell him.

Chapter Text

Gao Tu had been doing everything he could to avoid him.

After that encounter on the street—after almost getting hit by a car and being saved by someone who looked exactly like Shen Wenlang—he couldn't stop thinking about it. It messed with his head. The same face, the same voice... but everything else was different. That version of Wenlang was soft-spoken, calm, and somehow warm. And Gao Tu didn’t know what to make of it.

So, he started taking different routes. Adjusted his schedule. Even cut his grocery time shorter. Anything to avoid seeing that person again—because deep down, he was scared. Scared his heart would betray him again. Scared of hoping for something that might not even be real.

But what he didn’t know… was that he was being watched, too.

Shen Wenyu, the man who saved him that day, hadn’t forgotten about him either. He couldn’t. There was something about the way that stranger had looked at him—with wide, shocked eyes and a quiet vulnerability that lingered.

So Wenyu started passing by the convenience store more often.

First it was every few days. Then every day. Sometimes he didn’t even buy anything. He just stood by the shelves, pretending to browse while watching that quiet employee from afar.

There was something strange about him—like he was hiding a part of himself. And Wenyu didn’t know why, but he felt drawn to that.

Drawn to him.

Chapter Text

Shen Wenyu didn’t usually do this.

He didn’t usually chase after people. Didn’t frequent the same store just to catch a glimpse of someone. Didn’t wait in aisles pretending to choose between two brands of chips he didn’t even like.

But here he was.

Fourth day in a row. Third pack of gum. Zero idea what the hell he was doing.

That guy—he never even gave him a name.

Just that one fleeting moment. A blur of instinct, hands grabbing fabric, pulling him back from an oncoming car. The briefest of touches. The way their eyes met right after. That shocked, quiet gaze that clung to Wenyu’s mind like the smell of rain on pavement.

And then… nothing.

No words. No thanks beyond that soft “I’m sorry and thank you” Just a bow, quick and ashamed, like he had no right to be noticed. And then he disappeared.

But now Wenyu saw him every day.

He worked the night shift. Neatly dressed. Always tired. Always distant. Like the world was too loud and he was just trying to move through it without being noticed.

Wenyu kept wondering.

What kind of life left a person looking like that?

What made someone so careful, so cautious—like even kindness was something dangerous?

Wenyu didn’t even know his name, and yet he started memorizing the patterns.

He noticed how the guy always double-checked the cash register when no one was looking. How he organized the candy shelf three times in one hour when he was nervous. How he refused to meet anyone’s eyes for too long, especially Wenyu’s.

And maybe that was what made this all worse.

Because the one time their eyes had met—just once—it was like something clicked in Wenyu’s chest. Like the world paused for half a second. Like maybe… he should’ve said something more.

But what could he say?

He was just a stranger who happened to be there at the right time.

Who now just happens to be here. Every day.

And maybe he was being weird. Maybe it was too much. But something about that man—it didn’t feel ordinary. It didn’t feel like just another face behind the counter.

There was a story in his silence. A sadness in his routine. And Wenyu, against all logic, wanted to understand it.

Wanted to know him.

Even if he didn’t know why.

Even if all he could do for now… was stay.

Chapter Text

Shen Wenyu’s POV
---

Wenyu thought he was doing a pretty good job with his little "observation mission." He’d been going to that convenience store almost every day now, thinking he was being subtle. He’d throw on a hoodie or sunglasses, pick up a random snack he didn’t even want, and pretend he was just browsing. Just another customer.

But the truth? He wasn’t there for the snacks.

He was there for him.

The guy he pulled away from the street that day. The one with tired eyes and a faraway look like his brain was always somewhere else. Wenyu didn’t even know his name, but he couldn’t get him out of his head. There was something about him that kept tugging at his curiosity.

Maybe it was the way the guy’s eyes lit up for a split second every time Wenyu appeared—like he recognized something but couldn’t name it. Or maybe it was that soft energy around him, so guarded and yet so breakable. Wenyu kept coming back, telling himself it was just to make sure he was okay.

But he wasn’t fooling anyone. Especially not himself.

And apparently, not Gao Tu either.

Because one afternoon, as Wenyu stood by the magazine rack pretending to read a cooking guide he had zero interest in, he heard it:

“What are you doing here....again?”

Wenyu froze. He peeked over the top of the book he was holding like a shield, eyes wide behind his glasses. Busted.

“Uhh… just… looking,” he said, voice a little too high-pitched.

The other guy—Gao Tu—crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. “You’ve been ‘just looking’ for how many days. Same time, same shelf. You think I wouldn’t notice?”

Wenyu’s ears turned red. He lowered the book slowly, like it would soften the embarrassment. “Okay, fine. You caught me.”

There was a pause.

Then Wenyu added, more quietly this time, “I just wanted to check on you. After the accident. You seemed out of it.”

Gao Tu looked at him for a moment—really looked—and Wenyu felt like he could see right through him. He didn’t say anything right away. Maybe he was trying to figure out if this version of "Shen Wenlang" was real, or just another dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

But then, something softened in his gaze. He didn’t call him out. Didn’t push him away.

And maybe, just maybe, Wenyu thought, this was the beginning of something that didn’t have to break.

Chapter Text

“I’m okay,” Gao Tu finally said, voice light.

He looked at the man beside him—this version of Shen Wenlang, who smiled like sunlight and yapped like a golden retriever. Silly. Warm. Funny.

Maybe the amnesia was a good thing after all, Gao Tu thought.

Because this Shen Wenlang didn’t carry knives in his words. Didn’t flinch like love was a threat. Didn’t look at Gao Tu like he was a mistake.

This one smiled at him like he was a person.

“Let me take you to dinner,” Gao Tu said suddenly, surprising them both.

Shen Wenyu blinked. “Huh?”

“You saved me,” Gao Tu shrugged, playing it cool. “So… dinner. My treat.”

“Oh,” Wenyu grinned. “I mean, if you insist.”

---

They ended up in a small Japanese place tucked in a quiet corner of the city. Clean. Cozy. Warm lights. Nothing like the cold elegance of the fine dining place Shen Wenlang had once dragged him to.

The silence between them was thick at first—awkward, hesitant, like two strangers trying to guess each other's thoughts without asking.

Gao Tu poked at his sushi, and the memory hit him.

A sharp, silver memory of a night long- long ago.

Shen Wenlang had taken him to a high-end restaurant once—just once. He remember how Shen Wenlang treat him and said “You’ve been working non-stop. You need to eat properly.” The way his eyes kept darting to Gao Tu’s hands, his plate, his expressions—it wasn’t arrogance. It was worry. Hidden under biting words, but it was there.

Now, across this small table, this Shen Wenlang was laughing with rice stuck on the corner of his lip.

“This salmon is crazy,” Wenyu said, eyes wide like a kid. “Is it normal to fall in love with fish?”

Gao Tu choked on his drink.

Wenyu grinned and leaned back. “Honestly, maybe I should just keep saving you. Then you’ll keep buying me food.”

That made Gao Tu laugh.

Really laugh.

It came out of him before he could stop it—light and unguarded and real.

Wenyu blinked at him, then smiled so wide it crinkled his eyes.

And just for a moment, Gao Tu’s chest ached.

Because something in him missed this version. This warmth. This softness. And yet he knew it had never existed like this before.

How did we go from sharp edges to this?

But maybe... maybe this time, he wouldn’t question it. Maybe this time, he could just enjoy the moment. Even if it was borrowed from someone who used to hurt him.

Because tonight, Gao Tu’s heart felt full.

And for the first time in a long while—

He didn’t feel alone.

Chapter Text

The dinner stuck with Shen Wenyu more than he expected.

He kept thinking about that guy—the way his eyes softened when he smiled, how he actually laughed at his dumb little joke, how he didn’t feel judged or watched, just... comfortable. Like breathing in fresh air after holding it for too long.

So yeah. He went back the next day.

To the convenience store. Again.

Maybe he’d talk to him. Maybe even ask for his name. Finally.

—

Gao Tu wasn’t surprised when he saw him. Not anymore. Shen Wenlang—or whatever version of him this was—had been visiting like a regular customer who never buys anything important. Gao Tu had almost gotten used to it.

After his shift ended, he found Shen Wenyu waiting just outside the door, hands in his pockets, smiling sheepishly.

“You free?” he asked.

Gao Tu just nodded.

They walked quietly to a small café at the corner of the street. It was the place Gao Tu always went to when he needed peace. Somehow, bringing Shen Wenlang there felt... okay.

They got coffee. Nothing fancy. Just hot drinks and a small table by the window.

Wenyu kept the silence at bay with his little stories. About how he once spilled soy sauce into his phone case. About how he tried to make rice once and ended up with burnt clay. Gao Tu listened, half-laughing, half-wondering how the hell this soft, clumsy guy used to be someone so cold.

Then, out of nowhere—

“So,” Shen Wenyu said, stirring his coffee. “What’s your name?”

Gao Tu froze.

The mug in his hands suddenly felt heavier. He didn’t look up.

Name. That word felt like a key. Like if he gave it, something would unlock. And maybe Shen Wenlang would come back—along with everything he buried.

He hesitated.

But before Gao Tu could say anything, Wenyu spoke again.

“I’m Shen Wenyu, by the way,” he said with a grin. “Weird name, I know.”

Gao Tu’s heart skipped.

Shen. Wen. Yu.

Shen Wenlang.

He looked at him. And maybe—for a second—he thought the joke was over. That Wenlang was just messing with him. Pretending. That any second now, the cold, cruel version of him would come back and laugh at how pathetic he was.

But no.

Wenyu just sipped his coffee and smiled like a dork.

Still silly. Still warm.

Gao Tu swallowed his fear and finally said, “I’m Gao Tu.”

He watched carefully. Waiting. Hoping.

Nothing.

No flicker of memory. No shock. Not even confusion.

Just another grin from Wenyu. “Gao Tu... Nice name! Sounds kinda serious though.”

And he laughed.

Like he really had no idea.

Like he was someone entirely new.

And Gao Tu? He didn’t know whether to feel relieved… or crushed.

Because maybe this guy really had no memory.

Or maybe... he was still pretending.

Chapter Text

A week passed. And honestly? The two of them got really close.

They were together almost every day, and for some reason, Gao Tu couldn’t shake the feeling that all of this felt familiar. Like déjà vu. He remembered how they first met in the library, how their friendship started back then. And now… it’s like they were rebuilding that bond all over again, but softer this time. Gentler.

Shen Wenlang—wait, no—Shen Wenyu had become his comfort.

Gao Tu loved listening to him talk. Especially when Shen Wenyu started complaining about his brother always nagging him, but secretly being super caring. That’s when Gao Tu found out—Shen Wenlang had a brother?!, He never mentioned that before, so of course Gao Tu was surprised.

That makes Gao Tu even more confused.

But while Gao Tu was enjoying the new friendship, Shen Wenyu was going through it.

At first, he just wanted to be friends. No plans, no feelings. Just friendship. But the more time he spent with Gao Tu, the harder it got to lie to himself. The way Gao Tu smiled, the way his eyes lit up, the way his touch made Wenyu’s heart race—it wasn’t just friendship anymore.

And then, Gao Tu invited him to his birthday.

Shen Wenyu was so happy he went full-on as if he was the one who have a birthday. He bought tons of ingredients, helped cook everything, even took over the kitchen like it was his party. While Gao Tu was seriously focused on slicing stuff, Shen Wenyu took out his phone and secretly started recording him.

But Gao Tu caught him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

Shen Wenyu panicked a little and laughed. “Nothing! Just joking! I’ll delete it, promise!” (He definitely wouldn't delete it.)

Gao Tu reached for his phone, probably to grab it but he almost tripped. Good thing Shen Wenyu caught him just in time. They froze—like, really close to each other. The air felt kinda weird. A little quiet. A little… something.

Gao Tu felt the déjà vu again, this moment happened to him once again the way Shen Wenlang catches him at the library when he was about to fall and now... He catched him again.

Shen Wenyu broke the silence with a nervous laugh and changed the topic real fast.

---

When they finished preparing, Gao Tu’s friends arrived, and the small party started. Shen Wenyu couldn’t help but record a few clips—especially Gao Tu’s face when he was about to blow the candle. His eyes were literally sparkling. Whether it was the light from the candles or not, Shen Wenyu didn’t care. He looked happy. He look like a kid who's been waiting for this moment to happen.

It feels like Gao Tu's healing his inner child because he didn't had the chance to experience this when he was young.

After singing “Happy Birthday,” Shen Wenyu handed him a small gift. Just a simple keychain—one that kinda looked like Gao Tu, but chibi-style.

“It looks like you,” Shen Wenyu mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

Gao Tu smiled at it—like, a really soft smile.

“Thank you,” he said.

And Shen Wenyu swore his heart did a little backflip.

Chapter Text

Gao Tu and Shen Wenyu had been almost inseparable these days.

It wasn’t something they planned, not exactly. It just… happened.

A shared breakfast at the café down the street. A long walk home that stretched into dusk. A silent understanding exchanged in glances. And before either of them could put a name to it, their days began blending together.

It was easy, being around Shen Wenyu. He filled the spaces in between with soft words and lighter moods. He had this way of talking—casual but thoughtful—that made the silence between conversations feel less lonely.

Some mornings, Gao Tu would wake up and expect to find Shen Wenyu knocking at his door with that stupid grin and some nonsense excuse like, “I thought we could try the new bakery. My treat, of course.”

Of course.

Shen Wenyu never let him pay for anything. And Gao Tu hated that. Not because he didn’t appreciate it—but because every gesture, every treat, every little thing made him feel like he owed something. And he didn’t want to owe Shen Wenyu. Not when he was starting to feel… something.

---

That morning, Shen Wenyu had barged in like usual, full of chaotic brightness.

“One day off won’t kill you,” he insisted, grabbing Gao Tu’s wrist and tugging lightly. “Just one.”

Gao Tu resisted, as he always did. “I have things to do.”

“Like what?” Shen Wenyu shot back. “Observing people at the store?"

He was teasing, of course. But his voice carried concern beneath the humor. And Gao Tu… well, he was tired. Really tired. He had been stretching himself too thin lately, and maybe—just this once—it wouldn’t hurt to pause.

He gave in.

With a reluctant sigh and a small, defeated smile, Gao Tu let himself be pulled along.

---

But when Shen Wenyu started describing the plans—some kind of low-key road trip or a visit to a new art exhibit across town—Gao Tu tensed.

“I don’t think I can go,” he said, voice low.

Shen Wenyu blinked. “What? Why not? You just said—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Gao Tu interrupted gently, eyes falling to the floor. “I just… don’t want you always spending on me.”

His tone wasn’t defensive. It was careful. Honest.

Shen Wenyu was quiet for a moment. The air between them shifted slightly—just enough to notice.

Then Shen Wenyu chuckled, soft and a little sad. “Okay. Then movie night at my place?” he offered, his voice lighter again, like he’d folded his disappointment neatly away. “There’s this film I’ve been dying to watch. But I didn’t want to see it alone.”

That sounded better.

Safe. Familiar.

Gao Tu nodded.

---

Shen Wenyu’s home was nothing like Gao Tu had imagined—but somehow everything he expected.

Modern, clean, but far from cold. There were signs of someone who lived there, really lived—books stacked unevenly on a side table, a jacket half-slipped off a chair, indoor plants that looked half-loved, half-forgotten. A soft vanilla scent lingered in the air, warm and faintly sweet, like sugar cookies on rainy days.

“You can sit anywhere,” Shen Wenyu called from the kitchen, already rummaging for snacks. “I’ll just prep a few things. Shouldn’t take long.”

Gao Tu nodded absently, eyes trailing across the space. His hands remained in his pockets. He didn’t like touching other people’s things, not even accidentally. So he walked slowly, observing. Quietly breathing it all in.

He passed a row of framed posters—some minimalist movie art, some abstract. There was a cat-shaped clock on the wall that ticked with a wagging tail. A few school trophies lined the top shelf of the bookcase. A childhood photo or two.

And then—he stopped.

His eyes landed on a photo near the hallway. Tucked just beside the living room light switch, like it was meant to be seen in passing, not studied.

Two young men stood side by side in the picture. Identical. Same smile, same eyes.

But different.

One had his arm slung casually around the other’s shoulders. The other stood a bit straighter, gaze softer, posture more reserved.

Gao Tu’s breath caught.

He stared.

No—he froze.

It was Shen Wenyu.

And Shen Wenlang.

His Shen Wenlang.

For a second, his mind refused to process what he was seeing. His legs felt rooted in place, the sounds around him fading to a dull, low buzz.

Twins.

All this time… they were twins.

How? How did he not know?

Shen Wenyu. Not Shen Wenlang.

Everything made sense now, but also—nothing did.

The familiarity he saw in Shen Wenyu. The confusing sense of déjà vu. The way he laughed, the way he tilted his head when thinking. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

It wasn’t Shen Wenlang changing. It wasn’t a personality shift or some strange quirk of fate.

It wasn’t him at all.

Gao Tu’s throat tightened.

His heart was pounding in a panicked, confused rhythm, like it couldn’t decide whether to break or race. His hands trembled.

How could he be so blind?

How could Shen Wenyu not tell him?

Or worse… did he even know that something is going on between Gao Tu and Shen Wenlang?

Was this some cruel twist of the universe? Or just one big, painful misunderstanding?

“Hey—do you want butter or caramel?” Shen Wenyu called from the kitchen, casual and warm.

Gao Tu didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

His pulse was roaring in his ears. Every part of him felt off-balance, like he had just stepped off a ledge he didn’t know he was on.

He turned away from the photo, chest tight with something he didn’t know how to name.

Confusion? Anger? Betrayal?

Or was it shame?

Whatever it was, it was too much. Too fast.

He had to get out.

Before he could hear that familiar voice again.

Before Shen Wenyu could walk in and see the look on his face—because he didn’t even know what that look was.

Without another second of thought, Gao Tu walked to the door. His steps were quiet, quick, trembling.

And then he left.

He didn’t even look back.

Chapter Text

Wenyu’s POV
---

He hummed softly while preparing snacks in the kitchen. It felt nice—peaceful, even. He wasn't used to this kind of quiet happiness. Having someone like Gao Tu around made it feel different. Not like the usual forced small talk he had with people. This one? It felt warm.

The popcorn finished, and he tossed in some extra cheese-flavored chips, grabbed a couple of sodas, and balanced it all on a tray.

“Gao Tu, I hope you’re okay with me choosing the movie. I promise it's not one of those slow artsy films—”

He paused.

The living room was quiet.

Too quiet.

The front door… slightly open.

The couch… empty.

His heart skipped. “Gao Tu?” he called out, more confused than panicked.

No reply.

He walked outside and glanced around. The street was still. Not a single figure in sight. Just that unsettling kind of silence that made everything feel like a dream slipping sideways.

He slowly stepped back inside, brows furrowed. “Did… Did something happen?” he muttered under his breath.

There wasn’t a message. No call. No sign of where Gao Tu went.

One moment, he was here. Laughing. Breathing the same air. And the next… gone.

Wenyu’s eyes scanned the room, searching for some kind of sign. That’s when he noticed it—a picture frame on the wall. Crooked. Slightly tilted to the left.

He frowned. Odd. He could’ve sworn it was straight earlier. He walked over to it instinctively.

A photo. Old, a little faded. Him and Wenlang. Arms slung over each other’s shoulders, matching grins on their faces.

Wenyu reached out and gently adjusted the frame back into place, but his hand hesitated just before touching it.

“Did… Did Gao Tu see this?”

His voice was barely a whisper, like he was afraid to say it out loud.

But why would it matter?

As far as he knew, Gao Tu didn’t know his brother. Had never mentioned him. Had never acted like he recognized him.

Still, something twisted in Wenyu’s stomach.

That silence earlier—wasn’t just the absence of noise. It felt like something had broken.

“…Did I do something wrong?”

He sat down slowly, the untouched bowl of popcorn resting between him and the quiet.

And he waited.

But Gao Tu didn’t come back.

---

An hour passed.

Then another.

Still no Gao Tu.

Not even a shadow.

He tried not to panic. Tried to stay logical. Maybe Gao Tu just needed air. Maybe he had something to do, and he just forgot to mention it.

But this—this kind of silence had weight.

The next morning, Shen Wenyu couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at his chest.

Maybe Gao Tu was sick. Maybe he didn’t want to talk. But something didn’t sit right.

So he went to check on him.

And when he arrived… everything unraveled.

Gao Tu’s apartment door was cracked open, not locked.

Inside?

Empty.

Boxes gone. Clothes. Books. Mugs they used to drink coffee from.

All of it—vanished.

Shen Wenyu stood in the doorway like a ghost, looking at the hollow shell of where a person once was. “Maybe… maybe he just stepped out,” he tried telling himself. But his voice cracked halfway through.

He went to the convenience store down the block. Checked the bakery. The bookshop. Even asked the old lady in the next building.

No one had seen him.

No trace.

Gone—like he was never there in the first place.

---

Days passed. Then a week.

Still no word. No message. Not even a cold, distant "I'm fine."

It was like Gao Tu had been a dream that never really existed.

Shen Wenyu sat on the edge of his bed one night, fingers curled around the fabric of his sweater. He hadn’t told anyone. Not even Wenlang.

Because how do you explain a loss that technically isn’t a loss? How do you grieve for someone who was never officially yours?

He thought back to every moment they’d shared. Every joke. Every late-night talk. Every quiet silence that felt less lonely because Gao Tu was in it.

And then… he thought about that picture frame again.

The slight tilt. The coincidence.

The way Gao Tu left without a word, without taking anything that would lead Shen Wenyu to him.

And guilt bloomed heavy in his chest.

“I was too much,” he murmured. “Too loud for someone who didn’t ask for noise.”

Maybe he pushed too hard. Maybe Gao Tu was suffocating and Wenyu never noticed.

So he packed a bag.

And left.

Shen Wenyu remember the reason why he's here at the first place.

“I just wanted peace,” he whispered into the dark.

But instead, he found Gao Tu.

And now… he didn’t know what to do with all the silence left behind.

Chapter Text

Shen Wenyu didn’t know how many days had passed.

Maybe a week. Maybe more.

After Gao Tu disappeared without a word, Shen Wenyu had spent the first few days hoping—waiting for a text, a call, even a glimpse of him on the street. But nothing came. And as each silent day passed, the more it sank in: Gao Tu was gone.

He’d thought about searching for him. Asking people. Following leads. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Because maybe Gao Tu had left for a reason.
Maybe Shen Wenyu had pushed too hard, leaned in too close, crossed a line without realizing it.

And if space was what Gao Tu needed, then Shen Wenyu would respect that.

So he packed up quietly and returned home. Back to the familiar comfort of the city, and back to his brother—Shen Wenlang.

He didn’t have much to do after that. His days felt hollow, aimless. So he started showing up at his brother’s office, mostly to kill time. Sometimes he helped with paperwork. Sometimes he just sat there, talking about his trip—his “vacation,” as he called it.

Shen Wenlang didn’t mind. He was always busy anyway, head buried in documents or meetings. But he was used to Shen Wenyu’s background chatter. Used to his little stories. Shen Wenyu talked; Shen Wenlang nodded, maybe threw in the occasional “Mm-hm” or “That’s good,” even when he didn’t catch the full story.

He didn’t ask questions, but he could tell—Shen Wenyu was different. Softer, maybe. A little more distant when he wasn’t talking.
A little more… quiet when no one was listening.

Shen Wenyu tried to keep things light. Talked about the mountains, the early mornings, the annoying neighbor dog. But when he talked about the moments that mattered—the ones that actually warmed him—his voice always changed a little. Slower. Fonder.

He never said a name, though.

Until one day, Shen Wenyu came again, like always. Dropped into Shen Wenlang’s office with a quiet hello, flopped down on the couch with a sigh, and didn’t say much. Not this time.

He started talking, maybe out of habit, but stopped halfway through a sentence when he noticed his brother’s eyes glued to his screen, not even pretending to listen.

Shen Wenyu just smiled weakly and gave up trying. Instead, he reached into his phone gallery and scrolled.

And scrolled.

Until he found it.

A video. One he hadn’t watched in a while.
One he’d taken secretly on a quiet morning—when Gao Tu was busy prepping the ingredients for his birthday.

The camera shook slightly from how Shen Wenyu tried to be discreet. But it caught everything: Gao Tu, wearing a plain shirt, sleeves rolled up, focused on chopping ingredients.
There was a short clip of him lighting the candles too. Then blowing them out with that rare smile—that quiet, gentle kind that didn’t show often but stayed in Shen Wenyu’s memory like sunlight.

He hit play.

The sound filled the room softly.

Plastic wrap crinkling. Knife tapping the board. Then laughter—his own voice, off-camera, teasing. Gao Tu answering with a tired but amused grunt. Then silence.

Warm silence.

Shen Wenyu stared at the screen with a look he didn’t even realize he had. The kind that said I miss this.

Across the room, Shen Wenlang finally looked up, mildly annoyed by the sudden noise. He was about to tell his brother to turn it off—until he heard a voice.

A voice that made his pen freeze in place.
A voice he hadn’t heard in so long, but had memorized to the bone.

His heart dropped.

He looked up sharply, eyes narrowed.

“…Play that again,” he said suddenly.

Shen Wenyu blinked. “Huh?”

“The video. Play it again,” Shen Wenlang stood now, tense. “Let me see it.”

Before Shen Wenyu could respond, Shen Wenlang crossed the room and took the phone from his hand. Not snatching, but firm. Urgent.

Shen Wenlang stared at the screen, jaw tight, not blinking.

It was him.

Gao Tu.

His Gao Tu.

In a homey kitchen, lighting candles, smiling like nothing had ever broken.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

“You…” Shen Wenlang turned to Shen Wenyu slowly, voice barely steady. “You know him?”

Shen Wenyu looked at him, stunned. “You… know him?”

And in that second, they both realized:

They were loving the same person.

The same man.

The same heartbreak.

Chapter Text

Shen Wenyu was stunned — not just by how aggressively Shen Wenlang snatched his phone, but by the revelation that he also knew Gao Tu.

“Wait… you know Gao Tu?” Shen Wenyu asked, baffled.

Shen Wenlang’s eyes were sharp. “I should be the one asking that. How the hell do you know him? Where did you even meet him? Where is he now?”

The tension between them spiked. For the first time in a long while, the twins were caught in mutual confusion — both utterly shocked that the other had some kind of connection with Gao Tu.

Shen Wenyu explained everything — how he met Gao Tu, how they got close, and how Gao Tu unexpectedly left. He didn’t know where Gao Tu went or why he left so suddenly.

The more Shen Wenlang listened, the more his heart ached. He couldn’t believe how close Gao Tu had been — after all this time searching, after years of regret and longing.

He needed to find him.

“I’m going to that place,” Shen Wenlang muttered, already turning toward the door.

“Wait—” Shen Wenyu took a step forward. “Where did you meet him? What happened between you two?”

But Shen Wenlang was already gone — driven by a fire in his chest, by a chance he refused to lose again. This time, he wasn’t going to let Gao Tu slip away. He would find him. He would ask for forgiveness. And if Gao Tu still had space for him in his heart, he would make him his — all over again.

Chapter Text

Gao Tu felt so lost.

He thought he was finally okay. He thought he had picked up the broken pieces of his heart and stitched himself back together. He believed that Shen Wenlang had changed—that even if this version of him didn't remember their past, they could still build something new. Something real. Something better.

But now, after everything that should’ve brought him clarity, he found himself drowning in confusion.

The truth didn’t set him free. It caged him.

He walked aimlessly through unfamiliar streets, the noise around him muffled like he was underwater. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. He didn’t even know where he was going—he just kept walking, hoping his feet would carry him somewhere far enough from the ache in his chest.

His thoughts spiraled. Back to Shen Wenyu. Back to Shen Wenlang.

They weren’t the same person. He kept repeating it like a mantra. They’re different.
And yet, they felt so painfully similar—like two halves of a whole he once loved completely but now couldn’t understand.

He didn’t even know who he loved anymore.
Was it the Shen Wenlang from his past, who once held him like the world would end without him?
Or was it Shen Wenyu, whose gentleness had started to thaw the walls he swore he’d never break again?

Or was he just chasing ghosts—versions of love that no longer existed?

Worst of all, deep down, a bitter question festered like a wound:
Which of them hates me the most?

Because Gao Tu felt like he was hiding again.
Leaving everything behind whenever he was broken.
Always running away from his problems.

And suddenly, healing felt like an illusion.

Chapter Text

Gao Tu felt numb. Not the sharp, immediate kind of pain that takes your breath away, but the slow, creeping emptiness that seeps into every corner of your body until you don’t even remember what warmth feels like.

He didn’t know how he got here. Not “here” as in his life — though that was a question too — but here, physically, in this place. He barely remembered leaving the town , or if he had walked home or been carried, or if he’d spoken to anyone along the way. His mind was a blur, a broken film reel skipping over frames.

And yet… somehow… his feet had brought him to his old apartment.

Maybe it was muscle memory. Maybe it was the place itself pulling him back. The walls still held the faint scent of him, the echo of footsteps that used to be lighter, the ghost of laughter that now felt like it belonged to someone else entirely.

He stepped inside, and the air was heavy with dust and nostalgia. The furniture sat exactly where he had left it, but it felt smaller now, like the space had shrunk while he was gone.

Before, when he lived here, his feelings had been sharp and certain — he knew what he wanted, who he loved, where he was heading. But now, everything inside him was scattered and muddled. He didn’t know if his heart was beating for the past, for the present, or for someone who might not even want him anymore.

He dropped his bag on the floor and didn’t bother picking it up. He went straight to the bed and collapsed without even turning on the lights. The sheets were cold against his skin, unfamiliar despite having slept here countless nights.

And then… he just stayed there.

For hours. For days. Time was strange — he didn’t know if it was morning or night unless the light shifted through the curtains. He didn’t eat properly; sometimes he would forget entirely. When he caught his reflection once in the dark screen of his phone, he startled at the hollowed cheeks, the deep shadows under his eyes. He’d become thinner. Paler.

His heart felt heavy all the time, as if someone had tied weights around it. His thoughts swirled endlessly — memories, regrets, questions he couldn’t answer. The moment at the bar. The blurry touch. The scent that had wrapped around him like a home he couldn’t place.

Every day, he did nothing.

And yet, every night before falling into another restless sleep, he found himself hoping. Hoping that maybe tomorrow, or the day after, the universe would give him an answer. That somehow, the person who he really love — the one who held him like he was something precious — would appear. That he’d finally understand which face, which voice, which set of eyes his heart had truly been aching for all this time.

But the days passed, and the answers never came.

Chapter Text

Gao Tu hadn’t meant to open the cabinet. He was looking for… he didn’t even know what anymore. Something to occupy his hands, maybe, because sitting still meant thinking, and thinking meant remembering.

But when he slid the wooden door aside, the smell of old paper and dust greeted him — and tucked away behind a stack of old notebooks was a frame.

He froze.

It was a photo.
Of him and Shen Wenlang.

Not just any photo, either. This was from a time when they had been happy — genuinely, deeply happy. Shen Wenlang’s arm was around his shoulders, Gao Tu’s smile was easy and unguarded, and their eyes… their eyes were the same. Warm. Bright. Full of a future they thought they’d have.

The moment his fingers brushed the glass, something inside him cracked.

Memories rushed in without permission. Shen Wenlang’s voice calling his name with that quiet fondness. The way his hand used to settle at the small of Gao Tu’s back without even thinking. The late nights where they laughed until their ribs ached. The arguments, the makeups, the weight of promises whispered against his skin.

Gao Tu sat down heavily on the floor, the photo clutched tight in his hands, and the tears came before he could stop them.

And as he sat there, the confusion started to sink its claws in again.

Who did he really love?
Was it Shen Wenlang — the man in this photo, the one who had once been his whole world? Or was it Shen Wenyu, who he had thought was just another, softer version of Shen Wenlang, someone he was finally willing to open his heart to again?

None of it made sense anymore. Nothing lined up.

He told himself he needed to stop thinking about it, to give his heart a break. So he did the only thing he could think of. He started to drink.

One glass, then another. Then the bitter curl of smoke in his lungs as he lit a cigarette. Drink, smoke, drink again, as if every swallow and every drag could wash away a memory, blur a face, dull a feeling.

Maybe if he kept doing this, he could bury it all — the ache in his chest, the longing that wouldn’t die, the maddening confusion of loving two men who weren’t the same but felt like two halves of one story.

Maybe this way he could forget.

Forget Shen Wenlang’s voice, forget Shen Wenyu’s smile, forget the night in the bar when an alpha’s scent wrapped around him like home and tore him apart inside.

And maybe, just maybe, he could start again.

But the photo still sat beside him, face-down now on the floor, as if even when hidden, it refused to let him go.

Chapter Text

Months passed.

Nothing changed.

Every day bled into the next. Gao Tu woke up only to rot in bed. He barely ate — just enough to keep his body from shutting down. His nights blurred together in a haze of alcohol, cigarettes, and the steady hum of a mind that refused to quiet down.

And tonight was no different.

Except… he found himself standing outside a place he hadn’t been in a long time — the old bar.
The one Shen Wenlang had once brought him to.
The one where they’d shared quiet laughter in the corner booth, where their knees had brushed under the table, where his heart had been light enough to believe in a forever.

Now, the neon sign flickered above the entrance, casting a dull glow on the wet pavement. He hesitated for half a second, then stepped inside.

The air was thick with the mix of perfume, sweat, and alcohol. He told himself he wasn’t here for the memories — no, he was here to bury them. To drown them in the bitter burn of liquor until nothing remained.

But people noticed him.

"Alone?" someone asked, their breath too close to his ear.
"You want company?" another voice followed.

He ignored them, lifting his glass and letting the liquor burn its way down his throat. But the scents were harder to ignore.

Alphas.

Sharp, heady, dominant — their pheromones curled into his senses, making his skin prickle. Normally, Gao Tu would’ve kept his distance, his guard up. But tonight… tonight his mind was too fogged to notice the subtle shifts in his body.

He didn’t even realize it — he was sliding into his pre-heat.

His chest felt tight, his pulse a little faster. There was an ache low in his stomach that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

And then—

A voice.

Low, firm, and undeniably familiar, cutting through the chatter. “Back off.”

The presence that came with it was impossible to ignore. Heavy. Commanding. The kind of presence only an S-tier alpha carried, sinking into the air like it owned every breath you took.

And then the scent hit him.

It was strong — dangerously strong — but not the kind that made him want to shrink away. No. It was the kind that wrapped around him, warm and sure, like being caught in a blanket that still smelled of home.

Comforting. Safe.

His knees felt weaker, his breath shallower. The pre-heat roared to life, fed by that intoxicating smell.

He didn’t even think.

His fingers curled in the fabric of the alpha’s sleeve, his voice breaking. “Don’t… don’t go.”

He didn’t know who this man was — not really, not in the haze he was in — but he wanted him closer. Needed that scent, needed the way it made the world feel less fractured for just a moment.

And deep down, buried under the alcohol and confusion, a part of him knew this scent was familiar.

Too familiar.

Chapter Text

The man didn’t say much, just stepped between Gao Tu and the other alphas with a quiet authority that made the air feel heavier. His presence alone made the crowd part, as if his scent was enough to command obedience.

Gao Tu’s knees felt weak. His heart pounded, not from fear, but from the overwhelming pull of that smell — sharp, clean, and threaded with something warm that dug into the edges of his memory.

A hand touched his elbow, firm but careful. “You shouldn’t be here like this,” the man murmured, voice deep enough to send a shiver down Gao Tu’s spine.

Gao Tu didn’t argue. He couldn’t. His body was betraying him, leaning into that touch, breathing in that scent like it was air after drowning.

Before he realized it, he was being guided out of the bar, the cold night air wrapping around them. The moment the door shut behind them, the man’s scent became sharper, richer — no longer diluted by the crowd.

It hit Gao Tu like a wave. His chest tightened. His skin prickled. Heat licked through his veins, heavy and insistent.

He didn’t care who the man was anymore. Didn’t care why he was here. All he wanted was for that scent to stay close — closer than close.

The man stopped by a dark alley beside the bar, leaning down just enough to meet his eyes. “You’re burning up,” he said softly, not accusing, not pitying — just stating it like fact.

Gao Tu’s lips trembled. “Don’t go,” he whispered, not even sure if he was talking to this moment, this scent, or the man himself.

The man’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t move away. If anything, his scent wrapped tighter around Gao Tu, warm and inescapable. “I won’t.”

Chapter Text

The air outside was cold, cutting against Gao Tu’s overheated skin, but the alpha’s scent—deep, steady, commanding—wrapped around him like a blanket.

It wasn’t just strong, it was specific. That scent dug into his memory like claws, scratching at something he couldn’t quite recall. Comfort. Safety. Warm nights. The more Gao Tu breathed it in, the more his body leaned forward, chasing it like a lifeline.

“Easy,” the man murmured, voice low, rough with restraint.

The alpha hesitated, thumb brushing against Gao Tu’s flushed cheek. He leaned closer, close enough that the edges of their scents tangled—and that was when it happened.
The air thickened, the alpha’s control thinning as Gao Tu tilted his head up, almost dizzy with need.

The kiss wasn’t sudden; it was inevitable. A slow press of lips that carried no rush, only heat. The kind of kiss that ached in the chest as much as it burned in the gut. Gao Tu’s hands clenched in the alpha’s coat, dragging him closer until their chests met.

The scent swelled—dominant, unshakable—curling around Gao Tu’s own like a possessive hand. The omega shivered. Every exhale from the alpha left that scent on his skin, in his hair, deep in his lungs, until Gao Tu wasn’t sure where it ended and he began.

The alpha pulled back just enough to breathe against his ear, voice a whisper of control fraying at the edges. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for right now.”

Gao Tu’s reply was barely a breath. “Then… stay until I do.”

The alpha’s forehead rested against his, both of them breathing hard, scent mingling in heavy waves. No one moved for a long moment. The heat between them wasn’t a blaze—it was a slow burn, each second feeding the fire without letting it consume.

When the alpha finally stepped back, Gao Tu almost followed without thinking, chasing the scent like it was a tether pulling him from the hollow inside.

Chapter Text

The alpha didn’t take Gao Tu far—just a few blocks, until the noise of the bar faded into the hum of the city at night.
They stopped in front of an old, discreet hotel. No questions asked at the desk, just a key and a faint nod from the clerk who clearly knew better than to comment.

The room was warm the moment they stepped inside, dim light casting soft shadows across the bed and the single armchair in the corner. The door clicked shut, sealing them in.

Gao Tu’s pulse quickened. The scent here was pure alpha—stronger now that they were in a confined space, clinging to the air like heat. He inhaled deeply, almost without realizing it, and his knees nearly gave out.

The alpha caught his arm before he could stumble, steadying him with one hand on his lower back. “Sit,” he murmured, guiding Gao Tu to the edge of the bed.

Gao Tu obeyed, though his eyes stayed fixed on the man in front of him. His mind screamed that he shouldn’t be here, that he didn’t even know this man’s name—but his body didn’t care. It only wanted to sink deeper into that scent, into that quiet dominance.

The alpha crouched in front of him, tilting his chin up. “You’re still burning.”
His thumb brushed Gao Tu’s lower lip, slow enough that it made the omega shiver.

Gao Tu leaned forward slightly, letting their foreheads touch. “It’s worse now,” he whispered. “Because you smell… so good.”

That made the alpha’s throat work, a sharp exhale through his nose as if keeping himself in check. His hand slid to the back of Gao Tu’s neck, not gripping, just holding. Possessive without being harsh.

Their lips met again, slower than in the alley, but deeper—like the alpha was memorizing the taste. Gao Tu’s hands clutched at his coat, trying to pull him closer, but the alpha resisted just enough to keep him wanting more.

When the kiss broke, Gao Tu was panting. The alpha leaned in, brushing his nose along the curve of Gao Tu’s jaw, down to the spot where his scent gland throbbed faintly beneath the skin. The omega’s breath hitched.

The alpha didn’t bite. He didn’t even kiss the spot—just let his breath linger there, warm and maddening, so Gao Tu could imagine what it would feel like.

“You’re not ready,” he said quietly, but his scent told a different story—it was thick, curling around Gao Tu like smoke, testing the edges of his control.

Gao Tu swallowed hard. “Then why does it feel like I’ll break if you stop?”

The alpha’s answer was a soft sound—half frustration, half want—as he pushed Gao Tu gently backward onto the bed. Not to claim, not yet. Just to be close.
They lay there, fully clothed, breaths mingling, the alpha’s scent wrapping around him like a blanket he couldn’t crawl out of.

Gao Tu didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but by the time his eyes drifted shut, the heat in his body wasn’t from desperation alone—it was from the steady, unshakable presence beside him, holding him like something worth keeping.

Chapter Text

The moment Gao Tu’s fingers curled into the fabric of the man’s sleeve, it felt like something inside him snapped.
It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t even reasonable.
But that scent… gods, that scent.

It wrapped around him like heat and smoke, sinking into his skin, filling his lungs, curling low in his stomach until his knees felt weak. His pre–in-heat state was already pushing him toward the edge, but the moment that alpha’s scent brushed over him again—strong, clean, grounding—it tipped him further.

“I… need it,” he murmured, almost to himself, his voice trembling.
The alpha stiffened slightly, as if weighing the meaning of those words.

Gao Tu’s breathing grew unsteady, his forehead pressing against the man’s chest like he was trying to crawl inside that warmth. “Please… just—mark me,” he whispered, and the words broke apart, half-sob, half-plea.

The alpha’s hands hovered at Gao Tu’s shoulders, not yet pulling him closer, not yet pushing him away. There was hesitation—restraint.
But Gao Tu could feel the subtle tremor in those fingers, the quiet storm coiled beneath the surface.

His body was betraying him now—hips leaning in, heart racing so fast it hurt. “It hurts…” Gao Tu admitted in a breathless confession, the heat pooling in his veins making him shiver. “It hurts because it’s you.”

The man’s jaw tightened, his scent thickening until the air felt heavy. Gao Tu felt himself drowning in it, each inhale like drinking something intoxicating.

“Gao Tu…” the alpha’s voice was low, rough, almost warning.

But Gao Tu only shook his head, eyes glassy and lips parting in something between desperation and surrender. “If you don’t… I’ll break,” he whispered.

The alpha’s grip finally closed around him, firm and unyielding, pulling him flush against that steady heartbeat. Their breaths tangled, the world outside the bubble of scent and heat fading away until there was only them.

And though the mark didn’t come yet, Gao Tu knew—deep in the marrow of his bones—that it would.
Soon.