Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sheng Shaoyou had his share of encounters with different omegas. The fact that Hua Yong was exactly his type — teary-eyed, petite, and soft-spoken — was precisely why he found himself in a conundrum.

First, he ran into him at the hospital. Then at HS Headquarters. And after that… at a nightclub.

Something felt off. Deeply off.

Still, considering the supposed hardships Hua Yong was facing, Sheng agreed to pay for his sister’s medical treatment — but he also instructed his secretary, Chen Pinming, to quietly investigate the details.

A few days later, Chen returned with a detailed report.

The sister’s name was Gao Qing.

And Gao Qing wasn’t Hua Yong’s sister. She was Gao Tu’s.

Gao Tu — Shen Wenlang’s other secretary.

None of it made sense.

Should he confront Hua Yong directly? No, that would make him bolt. And Shen Wenlang? Another S-class alpha — not someone to accuse without certainty.

No. Better to go for the missing link.

Gao Tu.

“Chen, get Gao Tu here. Quietly. Tell him it’s a routine meeting. And check him for any bugs. Take no chances,” Sheng instructed.

Two Days Later — Shengfang Biotech

When Gao Tu arrived, a discreet scan of his belongings revealed a hidden listening device in his satchel — quickly removed and disposed of.

Sheng greeted him with a calm smile.“Secretary Gao, you’ve been in the industry long enough. And you've known me long enough to at least thank me for covering your sister’s bills.”

Gao Tu blinked, caught off guard.“My sister’s bills...? I thought President Shen paid for those. I—I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused.”

Sheng slid a file across the desk. “Take a look. Payment invoices and transaction records. See for yourself.”

Fingers trembling slightly, Gao Tu opened the folder.

His eyes scanned line after line — payment dates, transaction IDs, invoices. All pointing to Sheng Shaoyou.

His throat worked.“Then… why did he say nothing?” he whispered. “I thanked him. I even paid him back…”

So many things unraveled at once.

If Sheng paid… why had Wenlang stayed silent? What did he gain by letting the lie stand?

And most terrifying of all — why had Sheng Shaoyou paid at all?

Gao Tu stood and bowed low, voice strained but sincere. “Thank you for your help, President Sheng. I truly didn’t know. But… may I ask — how did you find out about my sister in the first place?”

Sheng studied him with something unreadable in his eyes. “I didn’t know she was your sister, Secretary Gao. I was told she was Hua Yong’s.”

Then, almost casually — too casually:

“Tell me — have you worked at a nightclub before? And are you living in a rundown building?”

Color drained from Gao Tu’s face.

How could he possibly know that?

He swallowed hard. “Before joining HS, I worked many jobs to make ends meet. One of them was bartending.

And yes… I still live in a pretty old building. My sister’s care doesn’t leave much room for anything else.”

That was it. The final piece.

Sheng Shaoyou leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose.

Hua Yong… was a fraud.

But Gao Tu —

He wasn’t lying.
He was exhausted. Guarded. Hiding something deeper than shame.

Sheng’s gaze lingered on him. Could it be…?

He released the barest trace of alpha pheromones into the air. Controlled. Focused.

A second passed. Then two.

Gao Tu’s expression crumpled.

He coughed, once, then harder — hand trembling as he pulled something from his pocket.

Sheng moved instinctively, catching the device. He scented it. Not an inhaler.

A suppressant.

Their suppressant. Shengfang’s own label, hidden under a sticker.

He peeled it back and stared at the truth.

His stomach twisted.

He looked up — and saw the panic in Gao Tu’s eyes.

The walls were closing in. “Gao Tu…” Sheng said softly, “how long?”

No answer. “You’re an omega. You’ve been suppressing for years. Do you even know what this dosage does to your body long-term?”

Gao Tu was silent. Frozen. A rabbit in headlights.

“You’ve always presented as a beta. But you’re not. You’re hiding it. Why?

Is it Wenlang? Is he making you suppress yourself?

If it’s him — quit. I’ll hire you. No pretense. Same position. Full benefits.

And if it’s Hua Yong, we’ll handle him too. There’s no good reason for you to keep—”

“Stop.”

Gao Tu’s voice cracked, barely audible. “Please. Just… stop.”

Sheng stepped forward — not to pressure him, but to ground him. Slowly, he reached up and gently peeled the suppressant patch from behind Gao Tu’s neck.

The moment it came off, a wave of burning sage filled the room. Raw. Wild.

Gao Tu whimpered. Shoulders hunched.

He was trembling. He was trying to breathe.

And then —

He collapsed.

Sheng caught him mid-fall, heart pounding. “Gao Tu—? Hey, hey, stay with me.”

No response. “Chen!” he barked. “Call the driver. We’re going to the hospital now.”

Cradling the unconscious omega in his arms, Sheng felt something twist in his chest — anger, regret, and something disturbingly close to guilt.

He looked down at the pale, exhausted face. The almost weightless body.

This wasn’t manipulation.

This was survival.

This was real.

Chapter Text

SF Private Hospital 

The room was quiet. Filtered sunlight bled through pale curtains, warming the edges of the bedding where Gao Tu lay unconscious, the monitors tracing the slow, steady rhythm of survival.

Sheng Shaoyou sat nearby, jacket off, sleeves rolled. He hadn’t moved much in the last few hours — just watched. Waiting. Thinking. What was the truth and what was the lie? Was he targeted? But why?

His wristwatch ticked softly.

Then—

A sharp inhale.

Gao Tu’s lashes fluttered. His brow creased.

And then he woke.

Eyes wide. Breathing fast. Instinct on overdrive.

Sheng Shaoyou stood immediately, holding his hands up. “You’re safe. You’re at SF Hospital. You collapsed. Do you remember?”

Gao Tu flinched, eyes scanning. Bed. IV line. No suppressant patch. Alpha nearby.

Then: Sheng’s scent — faint but unmistakable.

Orange blossoms.

Warm, dry, clinging to the air like midsummer heat.

His chest tightened. “You—” His voice was hoarse. “You drugged me?”

Sheng Shaoyou blinked. “No. You fainted. You were suppressing with something three times over the recommended dosage. Your levels crashed. You nearly omega dropped.”

“I didn’t— I never meant for anyone to find out,” Gao Tu whispered. “Please. Just let me leave.”

“No.”

The answer was soft. Final.

Sheng stepped back, giving him space. “You don’t have to tell me everything. Not yet. But you can’t go back to pretending nothing’s wrong. Your body’s trying to recalibrate from years of chemical trauma.”

He paused.”I’ve asked Secretary Chen to reach out to HS group. You’re on medical leave. Anonymous. No one outside this facility knows where you are.”

Gao Tu’s hands trembled in his lap. “What do you want from me?”

Sheng looked at him for a long time. “The truth.”

“What if the truth is beyond anything you could’ve thought of?” Gao Tu softly asked.

”Then, so be it.”

Time passed slowly. Gao Tu slept again. When he woke, food had been delivered. Congee. Steamed egg. Tea.

Sheng Shaoyou was gone.

A note on the tray read:

“I won’t push. Eat if you can. —S.”

A quiet nurse entered with a doctor. The doctor checked his glands and hormone levels and frowned.

“Interesting,” he muttered.

“What?” Gao Tu asked, alert.

“Your hormone balance is stabilizing faster than expected. Most omega patients take at least a week or more to regulate after prolonged suppression, in yours we expected at least two to reach basic stabilisation..Unless—”

“Unless what?”

The doctor smiled, adjusting the chart. “Unless, you have an alpha with at least 90% compatibility. A rare compatibility effect.”

Gao Tu froze.

“This is a good thing. Maybe you can have a discussion with your alpha to make the most of this. We’ll give you privacy.”

And they left.

Gao Tu stared at the ceiling, mind racing.

Compatibility.
With Sheng Shaoyou.

No. That wasn’t possible. Was it?

Evening fell. Sheng Shaoyou returned, quietly setting down his tablet and sitting nearby again.

“You don’t have to stay,” Gao Tu said softly.

“I know,” Sheng replied. “I want to.”

Silence stretched between them — heavy, but not tense.

Finally, Gao Tu spoke.

“When did you know I wasn’t a beta?”

Sheng didn’t look away. “I didn’t. I merely suspected as that’s the image Hua Yong projected. Is he an omega? I don’t know anymore. And then, when your pheromones started leaking when confronted. Sage. Wild, bitter, and burning. Then, the inhaler and patch. I was certain”

Gao Tu swallowed. “I’ve been using Shengfang suppressants and patches for years. You never noticed?”

“I never had reason to look.” Sheng paused. “I trusted Wenlang’s vetting.”

That name landed hard.

“…You trust him?” Gao Tu asked, voice flat.

“I used to. I don’t know anymore.”

Gao Tu stared at the blanket in his lap.

“He’s not cruel,” he whispered. “Not in the way Hua Yong is. But he’s a coward. I’m almost certain he is burying my scent quietly because it was easier than saving me.”

Sheng Shaoyou’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me about Hua Yong. And what he’s doing.”

Gao Tu’s fingers tightened around the blanket. His voice was barely above a whisper.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I already do,” Sheng said evenly. “Now tell me.”

A long pause.

Then: “There’s a program,” Gao Tu said, “coded as Project Metamorphosis. It’s not just suppression anymore. That was phase one.”

He looked up — eyes haunted.

“They’re researching sub-gender reassignment through biochemical means. Not surgery. Not choice. A rewrite. Alphas to carriers. Omegas to sterile. Betas bred from the ashes.”

Sheng Shaoyou’s blood ran cold.

“You mean—”

“They want to erase the lines, take it back to the way it was or the way they want people to be,” Gao Tu said, voice cracking. “Make omegas like betas. Make alphas into docile producers. Remove the parts of us that make us dangerous or… or vulnerable.”

“Biological compliance.” Sheng said bitterly.

“Yes,” Gao Tu nodded. “They frame it as progress. Flexibility. ‘Choice without dysphoria.’ But none of it is voluntary. The first trials were conducted on prisoners.”

He swallowed hard.

“They targeted me because I was proof the drugs could work — my suppressants didn’t just mask my status. They started muting my instincts entirely. I couldn’t go into heat anymore. My body started adjusting to the lie. Also, the fact I couldn’t retaliate as I was sold into this program with my sister as a collateral part to the experiment by my greedy Alpha father for money. Luckily, Wenlang bought me out in a way.”

Sheng stared at him. “How far along did they take it?”

“I don’t know. I was never officially enrolled for the main experiments. But they watched. Me, others like me. Quiet omegas. Those hidden, depending on suppressants. Vulnerable alphas. Anyone who could be… blended.”

His voice faltered.

“You were on their list, too.”

Sheng’s entire body went still. “What?”

“You’re a high-order S-class Alpha. Shengfang Biotech’s pharmaceutical line is one of the strongest on record. And you’re clean — no bond, no heat scandals, no bite claims. That makes you ideal. They’ve tried to access your bloodwork multiple times.”

Sheng inhaled sharply. “Why didn’t I know?”

“Because Wenlang intercepted the requests. Quietly. He thought if he kept you clean, they’d leave you alone. But they didn’t.”

Sheng stepped back from the bed, hands clenched. The idea that someone had been trying to modify his biology without consent wasn’t just repulsive — it was personal.

“How many others?”

“I don’t know,” Gao Tu said. “But they’re building a list. A list of who can be changed. Who need to be redesigned.”

Sheng Shaoyou turned away from the window. His voice was low. Controlled.

“We need to dismantle this.”

Gao Tu didn’t answer.

“But I’ll need you to testify. Help me trace the money. The tests. The records. You worked under Shen Wenlang. You had clearance.”

“I can’t,” Gao Tu said. “If I go public, they’ll destroy me. Hua Yong has files. Recordings. Medical data. My sister. He knows.”

“Then let me protect you and your sister. Let me fight back.”

Gao Tu hesitated.

“You said you didn’t want anything from me.”

“I lied,” Sheng said quietly. “I want justice.”

He took a breath, scent flaring faintly — orange blossoms and steel.

“And I want you safe. Not out of pity. Not out of guilt. Just… because I do. And maybe if I hadn’t caught you then, maybe few months down the line, I’d be the one strapped down for experimentation…”

Chapter Text

The sterile white walls of the hospital room felt colder than before. Gao Tu’s eyelids fluttered open, the harsh fluorescent lights piercing his blurry vision. His throat was dry, his body weak, but the fog in his mind was thinning.

A soft scent wafted in—a faint trace of orange blossom.

Sheng Shaoyou stood by the window, arms crossed, staring out but aware of Gao Tu’s awakening. At the sound of movement, he turned and smiled gently.

“You’re awake,” Sheng said quietly, his voice steady but carrying a warmth that felt foreign in this cold place.

Gao Tu blinked, attempting to sit up. Pain flared, and Sheng quickly stepped forward, pressing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Take it slow. You’ve been through a lot.”

The words were calm, but Gao Tu’s mind raced.

“Why... why are you helping me?” His voice was hoarse, a whisper laced with suspicion.

Sheng’s gaze softened. “Because no one deserves to live in fear or under a lie.”

Gao Tu’s thoughts drifted to Shen Wenlang. The only one who had tried to protect him but at what cost?

Just then, his phone buzzed sharply on the bedside table. Gao Tu’s hand trembled as he reached for it.

A message from Hua Yong:

“Remember who controls the strings. Don’t forget your place.”

Cold dread settled in his chest. Gao Tu swallowed hard.

Before he could respond, another message followed—this one from Wenlang:

“Leave. Now. It’s the only way you’ll be safe.”

His heart twisted in confusion and fear. Wenlang’s warning felt like a lifeline... and a betrayal.

Later that day, Sheng stood in the dim light of his office, speaking with Chen Pinming over encrypted files on the dark web.

“Project Metamorphosis isn’t just about suppressants,” Chen said grimly. “There’s research into altering sub-gender biology—alphas being engineered to carry children, omegas altered to be beta-like. Secretary Gao was not exaggerating.”

Sheng’s fingers tightened into a fist. The scale of the web was worse than he imagined.

He closed his eyes briefly, wondering where did all start and where things will end. How many were already experimented on? How many survived?

That night, Shen Wenlang appeared at Sheng Shaoyou’s doorstep lurking in the shadows, eyes darkened with regret.

He stood near the floor-to-ceiling window of Sheng’s house, the city lights painting jagged shadows across his face. His usual composed demeanor was cracked—vulnerable in a way Sheng Shaoyou hadn’t seen before.

“If things were different…” Wenlang began, voice low, almost hesitant. “If the world we live in wasn’t so harsh and unforgiving… Gao Tu and I—” He paused, swallowing the weight behind the words. “We would’ve been bonded by now.”

Sheng’s eyes narrowed, studying the confession. “Bonded? You mean...?”

“Yes.” Wenlang ran a hand through his hair, a brief, almost bitter smile flickering. “Not just because of duty or convenience. There was something more. A connection I felt from the start—quiet, patient, from the first day at high school. But fear got in the way. Debt, danger, the risk of losing him if I let him get too close. Hua Yong.”

He turned away from the window, facing Sheng directly, vulnerability softened by regret. “I thought keeping him with me at arm’s length was protecting him. But all I did was trap him.”

Sheng’s expression was unreadable but serious. “It’s not too late to make things right.”

Wenlang’s voice cracked. “I know it’s too late for me. But I want Gao Tu to have the chance I never gave him. To be free.”

He took a deep breath and his tone shifted, colder, sharper.

“There’s something else. Something you need to know about Hua Yong.”

Sheng leaned in, tension tightening the air.

“Hua Yong isn’t an omega, or a beta or an alpha. He’s not even fully human in the way you think.”

Wenlang’s eyes darkened. “He’s... anathema. An Enigma. Something engineered, or evolved beyond our classification. The reason the suppressant medicine exists—why the whole Metamorphosis project started—is because of him.”

Sheng’s heart hammered. “You mean... the drug was developed to control him?”

Wenlang nodded grimly. “Exactly. Hua Yong is the key. And that makes him more dangerous than anyone realizes.”

A heavy silence fell between them, the weight of the revelation settling like a shadow.

Shen Wenlang lingered by the door, hand resting lightly on the handle, eyes distant.

“Sheng.”

Sheng turned, his tone gentler now. “What is it?”

“Don’t tell me where you’re keeping him,” Wenlang said softly. “Don’t let him know what I’ve said. Just… protect him. In all the ways I couldn’t.”

There was a pause. The kind that lived between men who knew the cost of silence.

Wenlang continued, voice unsteady for the first time that night. “His sister… Gao Qing. She died three months ago.”

Sheng’s breath caught. “Does Gao Tu—?”

“No.” Wenlang shook his head slowly. “He still thinks she’s alive. Still thinks I’m doing all this to cover her medical costs. It was the last thing keeping him compliant. Keeping him here.”

His lips tightened. “There’s no leash now. Nothing holding him back except fear. And guilt.”

He looked Sheng dead in the eye.

“Make sure he gets out. Make sure he’s safe. That he doesn’t get dragged back into this hell.”

A long silence.

Then Sheng nodded once. Firm. Quiet.

“I’ll do everything I can to protect him,” he said. 

Wenlang gave a weak, tired smile—

“I’m counting on it.”

And then he left, the door closing behind him with a soft click that somehow echoed like an ending.

Chapter Text

Gao Tu hated hospitals.

Even in the private wing Sheng Shaoyou arranged, the sterile walls and quiet machines made his skin crawl. He’d only been discharged a day ago, but the world outside didn’t feel real anymore.

He was recovering. Physically.

Emotionally? He wasn’t sure.

The suppressant had been peeled away. His scent, once hidden for years, now clung to him — burnt sage and something bitter underneath, like old smoke.

Even alone in his new temporary residence — a secure apartment arranged by Sheng’s people — Gao Tu felt watched. Not by Sheng. But by memory. By what he didn’t know yet.

Sheng had said little about what came next. Only that he was “handling it.” That Hua Yong wouldn’t come near him again. But Gao Tu knew how systems worked. How power slipped through cracks. Sheng couldn’t control everything.

Not forever.

Meanwhile, at Shengfang Biotech, Sheng Shaoyou sat before the secure terminal in his office, the glow of surveillance footage flickering against his expression.

“Show me the last recorded lab run from Hua Yong’s research access at HS based on what Shen Wenlang has provided,” he told Chen Pinming.

The footage loaded.

It showed Hua Yong — clinical, calm, wearing a standard researcher’s coat despite not being formally cleared for lab work. He stood before a table of test vials, his movements too fluid, too confident. As though he knew exactly what he was doing.

Chen’s voice was low. “He’s been accessing restricted files under President Shen’s override code. We think he’s been refining a variation of our inhibitor formula.”

Sheng didn’t blink. “A variation how?”

Chen paused. “Not to suppress omega traits. To convert them. To remove their fertility entirely. And… possibly alter alpha fertility pathways by suppressing alpha hormones and inducing omega pheromones.”

Sheng’s eyes narrowed. “He’s trying to rewrite the entire dynamic system.”

“Yes, sir. But that’s not the worst part.”

Chen tapped the screen. The data logs scrolled.

“He’s been using his own biological material as the test base.”

“His own—” Sheng cut off. His stomach turned.

That was what Wenlang had meant.

Anathema.

Enigma.

Elsewhere, deep within an abandoned office floor of HS office, Hua Yong leaned back in a leather chair, the glow of three holograms hovering in front of him.

One screen showed medical scans: Gao Tu. Old data. Suppressed, masked. But recent entries now pulsed in red — flagged by the system.

Biological Summary (Restricted):

• Omega, non-declared.

• Extended suppressant exposure: 9+ years.

• Expected damage: organ strain, hormonal collapse, infertility.

• Actual findings:
   • Resilience: High
   • Suppression resistance: Increasing
   • Organ damage: None recorded
   • Fertility: Confirmed
   • Pheromone levels: Active, intensifying
   • Baseline strength: Exceeds omega class, approaching alpha range

Hua Yong narrowed his eyes, mouth curling into something unreadable.

“You weren’t supposed to survive this long,” he whispered.

He tapped to expand the data.

“And yet… here you are. Not just surviving. Adapting.”

He leaned forward.

“Interesting.”

That night, in the silence of his secured apartment, Gao Tu stood at the window, fingers trailing the glass.

Below, the city lights were soft. Distant. Safe, maybe.

He hadn’t heard from Shen Wenlang in days.

And that absence hurt more than he expected.

They hadn’t said goodbye. There had been no confrontation. No explanation. Just a quiet fracture, left unspoken.

He didn’t even know if Wenlang still cared.

But part of him hoped he didn’t.

Because caring, in their world, always led to pain.

Sheng Shaoyou woke in the middle of the night to a silent alarm.

Security breach. Target location: Subject: G.T.

He was already grabbing his coat before the third notification pinged.

By the time Sheng Shaoyou arrived at the apartment, the interior door had been unlocked but left untouched. Nothing stolen. Nothing broken. Just… opened.

He rushed inside.

“Gao Tu?!”

A faint voice came from the balcony.

“I’m here.”

Sheng exhaled, stepping through the room and onto the balcony.

Gao Tu stood barefoot in a loose sweater, wind tousling his hair.

“He didn’t come in,” he said quietly. “But I knew it was him.”

Sheng moved beside him. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Then why are you shaking?”

Gao Tu didn’t answer.

The scent of sage lingered faintly in the air.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be. My heats have stopped, all I have are these pheromones,” he finally whispered. “I thought… maybe Shen Wenlang would tell me. Or you. But all I feel is that something is missing. Or wrong.”

Sheng didn’t look away. “You’re not wrong.”

“I’m different, Sheng.”

“Then we’ll find out why. Together.”

Gao Tu looked at him, something flickering behind his eyes.

“Even if I’m part of whatever they’re building?”

“Yes.”

“Even if I’m broken?”

“You’re not.”

Sheng stepped closer, slow, unthreatening.

“And I’ll protect you. Whether you trust me or not.”

Gao Tu’s breath hitched. He didn’t move away.

“I don’t know how to stop looking over my shoulder.”

“You won’t have to.”

Hours later, as the city began to stir beneath morning light, a courier arrived at Sheng’s office. No return address. No tracking signature.

Inside the envelope: a single letter, handwritten on thick stationery.

To: G.T
From: S.W.

Sheng stared at it for a long time before slipping it unopened into his inner jacket pocket.

Later that night, Gao Tu found the envelope resting neatly on his bedside table in the secure apartment. Sheng hadn’t said a word about it — only that it had come from “someone he used to know.”

He opened it with trembling fingers.

Gao Tu,

If you’re reading this, I’m gone.

I don’t expect forgiveness. I only hope for your freedom.

Your sister… Gao Qing… she passed three months ago. I didn’t tell you. I used her memory to keep you anchored, obedient. I told myself it was to protect you — but the truth is, I was protecting myself. From losing you.

You were never meant to be part of this world, Tu. You were kind, and brilliant, and soft in a way this place doesn't deserve. I buried you in suppression and lies. And still, you survived me.

You always were stronger than you knew.

Sheng can protect you in the ways I never could. He isn’t clean — but he’s not afraid to try. And if there’s any justice left in this world, you’ll be far from it when the next phase of the project ignites.

I won’t be here.

I’ve left the country. For good.

Don’t come looking for me. There’s nothing left to find.

Be free.

— S. W.

Gao Tu sat still for a long time.

Then he folded the letter back along its creases. Pressed it to his lips.

And wept.

Chapter Text

The letter stayed in Gao Tu’s pocket for three days before he could open it again.

He didn’t cry this time.

There was a strange silence inside him now — not peace, but the absence of noise. No more suppressants. No more pretending. No more Wenlang, hovering somewhere between savior and jailer.

Just... stillness. And a growing ache in his chest where grief hadn’t fully landed yet.

He’d left.

Gone without a trace.

There wouldn’t be closure. There wouldn’t be confrontation. Just a single letter, soft edges folded from rereading, and the faint scent of sandalwood that still clung to the paper.

He lay on the bed, letter beside him, and stared at the ceiling, feeling something bloom low in his body — sharp, unsteady, and unfamiliar.

Not weakness.

Change.

Sheng Shaoyou found him on the rooftop the next night.

He didn’t say a word at first, just stood nearby, watching Gao Tu pace the outer ledge. The wind had picked up. The scent of burnt sage laced the air — brighter now, no longer hidden under the sterile mask of pharmaceuticals.

“Feeling better?” Shaoyou asked quietly.

Gao Tu didn’t look at him. “No. But I’m feeling real.”

A pause.

The Alpha nodded. “I brought you something.”

He handed over a tablet — nothing flashy, just black glass and soft matte. One file was open: medical data. Scans. Genetic reports. Side-by-side overlays of Hua Yong and Gao Tu.

“You accessed my records?” Gao Tu asked, voice tight.

“No. Hua Yong did,” Shaoyou replied. “I pulled these from the backups he tried to erase.”

He tapped one section.

“Your suppressants haven’t worked properly in over a year. Your body’s adapted. He didn’t account for that.”

Another tap.

“Your hormone balance isn’t just stable — it’s regenerating. You’re fertile, despite the predictions. You’re stronger. Your system's reacting like it’s evolving to counter the very drug that was meant to break it.”

Gao Tu went still.

“…So what am I now?”

“I don’t know,” Shaoyou said honestly. “But whatever Hua Yong tried to make you into… you outgrew it.”

That night, Gao Tu couldn’t sleep.

The apartment was too warm. Or maybe it was just him.

He’d opened the windows. Stripped off his sweater. Turned off the lights. Nothing helped. His skin felt electric — oversensitive, tingling under every movement.

He sat up in bed, pulse hammering, body burning from the inside out. Not like before — not like suppressants fading or withdrawal. This was… wrong in a different way.

Hot. Restless. Sharp.

His scent had intensified without warning — sage, yes, but now darker, muskier. Twisted with something almost metallic.

He staggered to the bathroom and splashed water on his face, gripping the sink.

His eyes — the pupils were blown wide, almost black.

Breathing hard, he pressed a palm to his chest, half-expecting his heart to tear through his ribs.

This wasn’t a heat.

His brain wasn’t clouded, but his instincts were snapping. Possessiveness. Irritability. Hunger. The same way alpha ruts were described in clinical manuals.

He stared at himself.

And then the mirror cracked.

Literally.

His hand — he hadn’t even realized it had clenched into a fist — was pressed against the mirror frame, splintering the glass with a force he shouldn’t be capable of.

He backed away, trembling.

This wasn’t heat. It was rut.

Sheng Shaoyou was already knocking at the door minutes later.

“I smelled it from the hallway,” he said, voice low. “You're not suppressing anymore — you’re peaking.”

“I— Alpha, this isn’t mine,” Gao Tu said, voice hoarse. “It doesn’t feel like mine. I feel like I’m invading myself.”

Shaoyou stepped inside slowly, cautious but steady.

“It’s rut,” he said, confirming what Gao Tu already feared. “Not omega. Not heat.”

He looked at Gao Tu like he was seeing something entirely new.

“…This isn’t just evolution. This is fusion.”

“Fusion of what?” Gao Tu whispered.

The Alpha’s expression darkened.

“We need to figure it out. An Omega having a rut?! Supposed to be biologically impossible.”

Later that night, Chen Pinming stepped into Shaoyou’s office, face drawn.

“A package came,” he said. “No address. No fingerprints. Just this.”

He held out a box. Shaoyou opened it without hesitation.

Inside: a single black vial, resting in velvet.

A label, handwritten in silver:

“For the evolved.”

And underneath, a note:

You can keep hiding him.
But we both know what he is now.
The question isn’t if he’ll change.
It’s how much you’ll let him.

– H.Y.

Sheng Shaoyou sat alone in the dark, staring at the vial.

He didn’t need his research team to run tests — he already knew what was inside. A new strain. A temptation. A warning. A promise.

He looked toward the window.

Gao Tu was still awake. Moving slowly through the shadows of the apartment, rubbing at his chest like it hurt to breathe.

He wasn’t built for war.

But war had already started building itself inside him.

Chapter Text

Gao Tu’s phone buzzed relentlessly—no caller ID. Shaoyou’s warning echoed in his mind: Don’t answer any unknown calls.

But curiosity gnawed at him. With a hesitant thumb, he accepted the call.

A smooth, chilling voice whispered through the speaker.

“Gao Tu. You’re evolving faster than anyone ever imagined. You’re no longer the omega they expect. Do you not want to know who you’re becoming?”

“Join me, Gao Tu. Together, we can rewrite the rules. No more hiding. You have strength beyond anything Shengfang can give you. Don’t waste it running from your true nature.” with that the call ended.

Hua Yong.

Gao Tu’s heart pounded—not with fear, but with a conflicted fire. What true nature? He was still an omega, was he not?

Later that night, Sheng Shaoyou arrived at Gao Tu’s apartment. The air was thick with his bitter sage pheromones undertones with something spicy.

He found Gao Tu pacing near the window, shadows flickering across his face from the city lights outside. His movements were sharp, jerky, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

“Gao Tu,” Shaoyou called softly, stepping inside. “Talk to me. What’s happening?”

Gao Tu didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he let out a low, ragged breath, running his hands through his hair until it was wild and tangled.

“Hua Yong called…My body,” Gao Tu said, voice cracked with frustration and something darker underneath. “It’s… changing. Faster than before. I feel it—burning under my skin.”

The Alpha stepped closer, his own pheromones subtly blooming—orange blossoms, warm and grounding, trying to steady the storm raging in Gao Tu’s chest.

“You’re not alone,” Shaoyou assured him. “We’ll figure this out. What did Hua Yong say?”

But Gao Tu shook his head sharply, suddenly grabbing Sheng’s shirt collar with trembling hands, pulling him in.

The room seemed to shrink, heat pulsing in the air.

A surge of pheromones flooded between them. Gao Tu’s scent shifted—no longer the calming sage Shaoyou was used to, but a deep, intoxicating amber, heavy and wild.

He felt it before he could think—an undeniable, primal force seizing control of his senses. His mind screamed to resist, to pull away, to reclaim dominance… but his body betrayed him.

The amber pheromones wrapped around him like chains, silencing his will.

His breath hitched. His muscles tensed but failed to obey.

Instinct took control.

Before the Alpha could react, Gao Tu closed the distance between them, pressing a gentle, searching kiss to his lips.

It was brief but charged — an unspoken plea and a fierce claim wrapped in one.

Shaoyou’s senses were overwhelmed by the rich scent that clung to Gao Tu’s skin, intoxicating and raw.

Their breaths mingled softly as the kiss ended, and Gao Tu pulled back slightly, eyes wide, vulnerable.

He clutched his head, as if trying to hold himself together.

“Shaoyou, you need to leave, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back…this is not just the pre rut we had yesterday…this is something more...”

Sheng Shaoyou looked down at Gao Tu’s reddened face, sniffing the amber scented pheromones . 
“It’s okay, let me help you in this. Don’t worry.”

With that Gao Tu gave up to his instincts. Pushing the Alpha on the bed, he quickly removed his clothes. Kissing him slowly, Gao Tu unfastened his pants and pushed his cock in the Alpha’s moist asshole. Rutting furiously he spilled his come entirely in the butt. For the first time in his life, Gao Tu felt a knot swelling at the base of his cock, locking him inside the Alpha’s hole. And then two days went by in a mess of cum, knotting and instincts.

At the end, “I don’t know what I’m becoming…but He knows..Hua Yong…he wants me to go to him…but there must be another way…,” he whispered, voice raw and uneven. “… we need to find others like me. So they don’t lose themselves like I did. Like my body is.”

His gaze dropped, then slowly lifted to meet Shaoyou’s tired and steady gaze.

“I’m sorry. For this. For dragging you into it.”

Shaoyou’s expression softened. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of damp hair from Gao Tu’s forehead.

“This changes nothing,” he said quietly. “We face it—together.”

The next morning, chaos broke loose.

Hua Yong had leaked classified files to the media—photos, videos, manipulated audio—all framing Gao Tu as an experimental subject gone rogue.

The allegations claimed he was collaborating with shadow organizations to sabotage Shengfang Biotech from within.

President Sheng’s phone rang endlessly, board members demanded answers, and Gao Tu felt suspicion shadow every step.

Shaoyou looked at him steadily, voice firm.

“We deal with this—together. No more hiding.”

Gao Tu nodded, resolve blazing.

“This war is ours now. There are other survivors.We should find them and more proof.”