Good times never last long.
After giving Zuo Shihuan a morning kiss, Gu Heng’s smile suddenly froze. His gaze locked onto Zuo Shihuan, filled with tension and unease.
His reaction was so obvious that Zuo Shihuan immediately noticed.
“Gu Heng, what’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled.
Gu Heng forced a stiff smile. “It’s nothing really… Uh, Shihuan, let me wipe your face for you.”
He reached out, intending to wipe away a faint oily mark on Zuo Shihuan’s forehead.
Unfortunately, the more he wiped, the worse it got, smearing the area until Zuo Shihuan’s forehead was shiny with oil.
Zuo Shihuan just stared at him with clear, innocent brown eyes, confused by his strange behavior but, trusting him, said nothing.
Now Gu Heng was truly panicking. He wanted to grab his sleeve and wipe harder, clean or not, who cared anymore?
But of course, he was wearing short sleeves today! No sleeve to use!
He should’ve wiped his mouth before giving that kiss. If Shihuan found out, he’d be doomed… Maybe he could sneak him a towel later, pretend it was nothing.
As long as Shihuan didn’t find out, it would be fine.
Thinking that, Gu Heng forced himself to calm down and dropped his hand.
Zuo Shihuan frowned slightly. “What are you doing?”
Gu Heng’s heart was pounding, but he kept his tone light and casual. “Nothing, just saw something stuck on your forehead and wanted to wipe it off for you.”
He truly hadn’t lied to Zuo Shihuan, he had simply… omitted part of the truth. For instance, the oily mark on Zuo Shihuan’s forehead was entirely because he insisted on that “good morning kiss” without wiping his own mouth first.
Zuo Shihuan didn’t suspect anything. Even if Gu Heng was acting strangely now, he often did strange and inexplicable things, so Zuo Shihuan was long used to it.
He asked casually, “Is it gone now? What was it?”
Gu Heng gave an awkward laugh. “Probably… yeah, it’s gone.”
Zuo Shihuan frowned in suspicion and reached up to touch his own forehead, only to feel something oddly slick under his fingers.
When he lowered his hand to look, his expression instantly froze. Ignoring Gu Heng’s flustered explanations and apologies, he strode straight toward the bathroom.
Pushing open the door, the wide mirror reflected his face: his forehead gleaming with oil, his expression darkening by the second, and his clenched fists trembling with barely contained anger.
So that’s how it was!
He’d thought Gu Heng really was helping him wipe something off, but in fact, he’d just been covering up the evidence!
Zuo Shihuan let out a short, cold laugh.
The sound alone made Gu Heng, who had followed him into the bathroom, break out in a nervous sweat. His knees weakened as he hurried to apologize, “Shihuan, I was wrong! I shouldn’t have kissed you without wiping my mouth first, now your forehead’s all oily, ow!”
Before he could finish, Zuo Shihuan angrily smeared that oil right back onto his face and pinched his ridiculously handsome cheeks.
“Idiot! I’m not mad about that! I’m mad you tried to hide it! Since you like wiping so much, why don’t I help you wipe that thick skin of yours!”
Zuo Shihuan rubbed hard at Gu Heng’s face, turned on the tap, and cupped some water in his palm. He was much kinder than Gu Heng, at least using clean water to wash his face.
Gu Heng, splashed and dripping, yelped loudly but didn’t dare fight back. His mouth, however, wouldn’t stop: “Shihuan, I didn’t mean to hide it! I was gonna get you a towel to wipe it off!”
“Oh? So thoughtful! Then why didn’t you just give me the towel, Gu Heng?”
Zuo Shihuan sneered, continuing to rinse his face with the cold water, maybe that would wash away some of that shamelessness.
Gu Heng wrapped his arms around Zuo Shihuan’s waist, his black eyes wet and earnest, his tone full of nervous sincerity as he said, “Shihuan, I really wasn’t lying! I was planning to wipe it off for you, just quietly, so you wouldn’t notice…”
Zuo Shihuan ground his teeth. “Oh, should I thank you, then?”
The infuriating part was that Gu Heng was telling the truth. If not for his suspiciously odd behavior, Zuo Shihuan might never have noticed what he’d done.
In truth, Zuo Shihuan wasn’t angry about having oil on his forehead; he was angry because Gu Heng always pushed his luck, always managed to get under his skin. Couldn’t he just behave for once?!
Then again… if he did, he wouldn’t be Gu Heng.
The thought made Zuo Shihuan both angry at Gu Heng and angry at himself. His chest puffed with frustration as he pinched Gu Heng’s cheek again.
Seeing Zuo Shihuan’s genuine anger, Gu Heng’s face filled with panic and guilt. His voice dropped, soft and sorrowful: “…I’m sorry, Shihuan. I keep upsetting you. I don’t mean to. I’ll try to stop doing the things that make you angry or uncomfortable…”
But he couldn’t finish.
Because Zuo Shihuan suddenly kissed him.
His lips pressed against Gu Heng’s, cutting off all sound. Every time Gu Heng tried to breathe or speak, his mouth was sealed again by Zuo Shihuan’s furious, heated kiss, biting at those lips that always said things that made him both mad and moved.
Gradually, the air between them shifted.
The angry, chaotic kiss softened, turning tender, lingering, a probing tangle that deepened and burned, with a sharp nip at Gu Heng’s tongue that melted almost instantly into warmth and rhythm.
One wrapped his arms around the other’s neck; the other instinctively held his waist.
A kiss full of passion and tenderness.
Zuo Shihuan’s light brown eyes, bright and fierce, looked up at him, as if scolding, yet shyly confessing all the emotion he couldn’t put into words.
If he were truly angry, he wouldn’t be kissing him. If he truly disliked Gu Heng, he wouldn’t let him tease, laugh, embrace, and kiss him again and again.
Do you understand now?
Gu Heng.
Zuo Shihuan glared at the dazed Gu Heng with those clear, vivid eyes, then finally leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the water-specked corner of his eye.
He grabbed a towel from the bathroom rack and threw it over Gu Heng’s face.
He was still a little angry, after all.
Narrowing his eyes, Zuo Shihuan said with pursed lips, “Wipe your face. And hurry up and go eat before your food gets cold. If you keep fooling around like this instead of eating, don’t expect any more ‘good morning kisses.’”
Gu Heng took the towel, a silly grin spreading across his face, joy and excitement shining in his eyes. “Then… can I have a good afternoon kiss instead?”
Zuo Shihuan shot him a glare, exasperated, but the sight of that goofy, hopeful smile made his heart soften again. He could never really win against him.
“Bow your head.”
Gu Heng obediently lowered it.
Though Zuo Shihuan’s face showed mock annoyance, he still rose on tiptoe and gave him the kiss he wanted, a gentle afternoon kiss.
In that instant, Gu Heng’s heart overflowed with contentment. He thought there could never be anyone else in this world who could make him feel so much love, or let him feel so perfectly, wholly loved in return.
But as his excitement surged and he tried to give Zuo Shihuan a kiss back,
Zuo Shihuan, having anticipated it, dodged, pressing a hand against Gu Heng’s damp, heated lips.
“One afternoon kiss. That’s it. Don’t even think about pushing your luck. I still haven’t forgiven you for hiding things from me just now.”
Zuo Shihuan said he wouldn’t forgive him, but there wasn’t a trace of anger on his face, only cautious wide eyes watching Gu Heng, not letting him get close again.
Gu Heng, feeling a bit disappointed but still unable to hide his happy smile, asked, “What do I have to do for you to forgive me, Shihuan?”
Zuo Shihuan furrowed his brow, thinking for a moment, then suddenly had an interesting idea. He curved his lips and curled a finger toward Gu Heng: “Come here, I’ll tell you what you have to do to get forgiven.”
Gu Heng, easily caught by that gesture, eagerly came over, his noble and handsome face leaning in with a flattering smile: “I’ll do whatever you want, Shihuan.”
Zuo Shihuan said nothing, just looked at Gu Heng with his bright, enticing light brown eyes, smiling softly to reveal a dimple that sweetly touched Gu Heng’s heart. His lips, still rosy from the earlier kiss, glistened with a subtle, seductive sheen.
It was like waiting for someone to pick fruit.
Gu Heng, completely entranced, couldn’t help but hug Zuo Shihuan and try to kiss him again, but just as he was about to reach his cheek, a finger stopped him.
Zuo Shihuan reached out, pressing one finger gently on Gu Heng’s forehead, pushing his overly close face away little by little. His light brown eyes sparkled with a teasing gleam.
“Didn’t you say you’d do whatever I ask? Then I have a simple request: no kissing me for the rest of today. Consider it your punishment for giving me that ‘special’ good morning kiss.”
Gu Heng’s face immediately fell, full of exaggerated misery: “There are still more than ten hours left today! How am I supposed to endure that long? Shihuan, you’re so cruel.”
Zuo Shihuan smiled. “Can’t do it?”
Gu Heng cautiously asked, “What if I can’t?”
Zuo Shihuan kept smiling. “Are you trying to test me?”
Though his tone was calm and his smile gentle, the words sent a chill down Gu Heng’s spine, making him dare not offend or push any boundaries.
Lowering his eyes, Gu Heng pretended to be pitiful and whispered, “What if I accidentally kiss you?”
Zuo Shihuan saw through the act and gently squeezed Gu Heng’s handsome face with a soft smile: “You do have careless moments? Then the punishment extends another day for every accidental kiss, no end to it.”
Gu Heng howled in despair, every escape plan blocked by the sharp Zuo Shihuan. Weren’t they a couple in the throes of love? How come after just a short time together, only recently able to kiss and hug freely, now he couldn’t even kiss? Shihuan was so heartless!
He couldn’t kiss, so he begged for hugs instead.
Gu Heng slumped, hugging Zuo Shihuan and whining with a pitiful voice, trying to make him change his mind.
But Zuo Shihuan found this troubled Gu Heng amusing, like a clingy black wolf with a big fluffy tail. When hugged, his thick, stiff black hair rubbed against Zuo Shihuan’s neck, making his skin tingle and feel hot.
Besides, making Gu Heng endure just one day wasn’t a big deal. It was already noon, less than twelve hours left in the day. This was both a small punishment for trying to hide things and a little personal tease from Zuo Shihuan.
His smile brightened even more, showing no softness, just a gentle pat on Gu Heng’s nape: “Alright, get up and eat already. Weren’t you just starving enough to eat the chopsticks? Why aren’t you hungry now?”
“Hungry.” Gu Heng hugged Zuo Shihuan’s waist, burying his head in his neck and replying weakly.
“Then go eat. Hugging me won’t fill your stomach.”
Zuo Shihuan’s smile deepened as he lightly twirled a strand of Gu Heng’s black hair with his finger. Though Gu Heng was heavy pressed against him, he didn’t push him away, just rested a hand on Gu Heng’s shoulder.
“Just thinking about today’s punishment makes me lose my appetite,” Gu Heng mumbled without lifting his head.
Gu Heng wasn’t pretending, he really felt like the whole day without kissing Zuo Shihuan made the world dull and gray.
Taking advantage of the moment while Zuo Shihuan still let him hug him, Gu Heng held on tight, storing the feeling for later, just in case he accidentally made Zuo Shihuan angry again and lost even hugs.
At least he’d have this memory to comfort himself.
As for eating, what Gu Heng had just eaten definitely wasn’t enough, barely a snack, but it at least filled his stomach a little, so he could bear the hunger.
Zuo Shihuan noticed Gu Heng’s unwillingness to get up and his pitiful, gloomy look, which made him oddly fond. It reminded him of a cartoon animal he’d seen on TV before, a “loser wolf,” a black-gray furry wolf with an adorably downcast expression.
The more he looked, the more he saw the resemblance.
Suddenly Zuo Shihuan burst out laughing and said with a bright smile, “Is it really that exaggerated? It’s just one day passing, after all.”
Gu Heng’s ears reddened slightly. He muttered, “Shihuan, it’s easy for you to say. One day means twenty-four hours, with every hour having sixty minutes, and every minute and second you won’t kiss me.”
Zuo Shihuan tilted his head in confusion, feeling like he couldn’t understand Gu Heng’s words. He cupped Gu Heng’s sulking handsome face and kissed his forehead.
Gu Heng’s eyebrows twitched visibly, and his gloomy eyes brightened a bit.
Zuo Shihuan smiled, “Feeling better now?”
Gu Heng’s mouth curved slightly, the spot kissed still seeming to hold Zuo Shihuan’s warmth, but he quickly suppressed the smile and kept his brows furrowed, mumbling, “Not yet…”
Zuo Shihuan chuckled and kissed Gu Heng’s cheek, then pinched his pitiful, gloomy face: “Should be better now, right?”
Gu Heng was still unsatisfied. “Not yet, ”
Zuo Shihuan narrowed his eyes in warning. “Hm?”
Gu Heng’s brows drooped in dejection. He swallowed the rest of his words, voice low and pitiful. “It’s… a little better.”
Zuo Shihuan poked a finger between his furrowed brows and sighed helplessly. “How can a grown man be this clingy and whiny? What am I supposed to do with you?”
Gu Heng protested, “Shihuan, you’re cheating! You’re allowed to kiss me, but I’m not allowed to kiss you. How am I supposed to endure that?”
Zuo Shihuan smiled with his eyes half-curved, teasing him on purpose. “How is that cheating? Even if it is, so what? The rule is: I get to decide when I want to kiss you, and you’re not allowed to kiss me! Who told you to sneak that greasy ‘good morning’ kiss earlier and think you could get away with it?”
Gu Heng looked as aggrieved as a scolded wife, daring only to glance up and mutter, “It’s not like I can do anything about it…”
Zuo Shihuan couldn’t help laughing at the sight, but he still softened his tone a bit. “Alright, alright. I did say it’s only for today, I’m not even making you go through a full twenty-four hours.”
Gu Heng slumped against Zuo Shihuan’s shoulder, his voice low and muffled. “If you’re really making me go a whole day without kissing you, you might as well take my life.”
Zuo Shihuan sighed again and again, feeling like his boyfriend had a serious case of clingy separation anxiety. He almost started to feel sorry for this hopeless man.
After all, it was this troublemaker who started it, and somehow, Zuo Shihuan had ended up looking like the heartless one.
Thinking of the old Gu Heng, proud, cold, untouchable, and comparing him to the current one who clung to him like glue, refusing to let go, the contrast was almost laughable.
Zuo Shihuan poked Gu Heng’s forehead and reminded him, “You’re the one who suggested this. I didn’t force you.”
Gu Heng only grew more dejected, lowering his head. “I know…”
Zuo Shihuan figured the punishment had lasted long enough, seeing Gu Heng suffer this much, he was clearly sorry, and his heart softened. “How about we just forget the punishment this time?”
Gu Heng’s ears twitched slightly, but he still mumbled, “No. I promised you, Shihuan. I’ll be good and put up with it for a day.”
Zuo Shihuan blinked in surprise. “Really? You don’t want to skip it?”
He had expected Gu Heng to be overjoyed at the offer, after all, the man had been clinging and whining for ages, all to get the punishment canceled.
Zuo Shihuan himself hadn’t even been truly angry; watching Gu Heng sulk for so long had been more amusing and endearing than anything else.
Gu Heng clenched his teeth with determination. “That’s right. It’s only until midnight. I can do it, as long as you stop tempting and teasing me.”
Zuo Shihuan snorted. “Who’s tempting you? Don’t flatter yourself.”
Gu Heng widened his dark eyes, solemn and indignant. “How is it not? Tell me I’m wrong.”
Especially when Zuo Shihuan looked at him with those soft, light-brown eyes full of tenderness, those damp, affectionate pupils reflecting his image; that little hooked smile that tugged straight at his heart; that dimple sweet enough to make anyone dizzy; those slightly parted lips just waiting to be kissed.
Just like now.
Even when Zuo Shihuan was smirking at him, Gu Heng still thought he was being seduced. That dimple, that every tiny expression, weren’t they all meant to lure him into biting?
Gu Heng shamelessly convinced himself of this.
Zuo Shihuan: “………………”
After a long silence.
Zuo Shihuan pressed a hand to his forehead, exhaling through gritted teeth. “I honestly don’t know where you got that thick skin of yours.”
Gu Heng only lifted his brows, smiling smugly. “Isn’t it true, though? With your personality, Shihuan, if you weren’t interested in me, you’d never smile at me. Or at most, it would’ve been one of those polite, detached smiles. But the first time I saw you, I knew you liked me. And lucky for you, I liked you too.”
Zuo Shihuan choked, unable to refute it.
Was he really that obvious back then?
The way Gu Heng looked now, so pleased with himself, his nose practically pointed to the sky, it was infuriating.
Zuo Shihuan gave a cold little laugh, stroking Gu Heng’s cheek. “So proud of yourself, huh?”
Gu Heng’s back stiffened instantly. He’d gotten carried away and forgotten the current situation, but one look at Zuo Shihuan’s expression, and he quickly became much more well-behaved.
“N-no, not that proud.”
Zuo Shihuan’s gaze darkened. He hooked a finger under Gu Heng’s chin. “Oh? But didn’t you just say I was interested in you from the start? Didn’t you say I’m always tempting and teasing you?”
Gu Heng suddenly felt something was very wrong, like he’d just stepped into a trap.
He lowered his head quickly, mumbling, “No, no, it’s my fault, I was being shameless. I’m the one who keeps trying to seduce you. I liked you first.”
“Oh no,” Zuo Shihuan said lightly, smiling faintly. “You were right, I am teasing you.”
His voice curled with an ambiguous sweetness. He reached out and pinched Gu Heng’s chin, fingers gliding slowly down the sharp line of his jaw.
His fingertips brushed against Gu Heng’s throat.
A soft gulp sounded immediately, Gu Heng didn’t even dare to breathe too deeply, every nerve focused on that pale, slender finger tracing down his skin.
It slid lower.
Past his chin.
Over his Adam’s apple.
The touch seemed to draw a pale line across his skin, marking territory as it went, gliding across his broad, firm chest until finally, it stopped.
The fingertip moved slowly over the solid muscle there, pressing lightly, as if searching for something.
But Gu Heng was already beyond thought, his breathing quickened, heavy and uneven. He clenched his jaw, trying to restrain the surge of sensation that finger stirred in him, while heat and pulse rose uncontrollably from deep within.
Until the fingertip paused.
And he suddenly heard a soft, quiet laugh.
Gu Heng couldn’t tell what Zuo Shihuan was laughing at. He just clenched his teeth, muscles taut, not daring to make a single move, afraid that if he did, he’d lose control and break his own promise not to touch Zuo Shihuan today.
Unfortunately for Gu Heng, the more he tried to restrain himself, the more the other man, who saw through his forbearance, teased and provoked him.
Those restless fingers finally stopped moving.
Through his clothes, they pressed against the steady thrum beneath his chest.
The fingertips moved with unbearable slowness, lightly pressing against where his heart beat. With each rise and fall of his pulse, those curious fingertips rose and fell with it, pointed straight toward his heart.
That deadly sense of his heart being pinned down, made Gu Heng’s breath catch. He couldn’t help but focus entirely on those fingers over his heart. Even through the fabric, they seemed to tug at the threads of his very heartbeat; each small twitch of those pale, slender fingers sent invisible strings pulling tight within him.
Right before his eyes, Zuo Shihuan toyed with the rhythm of his heart as if Gu Heng were nothing but a puppet under his control, his most vital organ easily handled and played with, until it burned and tormented him.
His reason teetered on the brink.
He longed for Zuo Shihuan to keep pushing, to undo him completely, yet feared falling once again into that fatal trap.
Tension wound so tight he lost all sense of time.
His throat constricted as Zuo Shihuan leaned closer, gaze kindled, lips curling in a faint smile. He bit lightly at Gu Heng’s ear, voice low and teasing: “Does this count as seducing you, Gu Heng?”
“……”
“Can’t answer?”
Zuo Shihuan’s eyes narrowed in amusement. He looked at Gu Heng, who didn’t dare meet his gaze, didn’t dare touch him. His throat worked miserably, breath uneven and heavy, the frantic pulse beneath his fingers betraying his turmoil.
Zuo Shihuan’s smile deepened.
Taking advantage of Gu Heng’s self-imposed restraint, he grew bolder, even more reckless, taunting: “But… Gu Heng, I remember you promised not to kiss me today. So whatever I do, what can you possibly do about it?”
Gu Heng’s eyes flashed sharply. Sweat rolled down his forehead in fat drops; his teeth ground together hard enough to creak. His gaze, flushed red, refused to meet Zuo Shihuan’s mocking, seductive eyes; he said nothing, couldn’t hide the wild beat of his heart or the heat rising through his body.
D*mn it, he regretted it!
He should’ve just agreed when Zuo Shihuan offered to cancel the punishment. Shouldn’t have been stubborn about saving face. Then Zuo Shihuan wouldn’t have him completely cornered and toyed with like this.
And yet Gu Heng knew, even if it happened again, he’d still give the same answer.
Besides, he’d already exhausted Zuo Shihuan that morning, after an entire night together, they’d gone again the next day, until Zuo Shihuan was trembling, weak, eyes red-rimmed with dried tear tracks, body covered in marks of blue and red, looking pitiful and heartbreakingly fragile.
So Gu Heng had sworn: no matter what, he would not lay a hand on Zuo Shihuan again today. No matter how much Zuo Shihuan tempted or provoked him.
And so…
He clenched his jaw, refusing to look at Zuo Shihuan. His teeth ground audibly, his head lifted high, doing his utmost to suppress the rising heat in his body.
Whatever Zuo Shihuan said or did, he forced himself not to react.
Gradually, he didn’t even notice when that teasing finger left his chest.
Eyes shut tight, he saw nothing, but then he heard the sound of running water, the faucet being turned on.
Zuo Shihuan must’ve grown bored and walked away.
Only then did Gu Heng let out a breath and open his eyes.
Zuo Shihuan was calmly washing his hands, rubbing soap into foam over the backs and palms, scrubbing every finger and the spaces between them, meticulously washing away every trace of sweat and warmth. He rinsed the foam off again and again, until his ten fingers were perfectly clean, pale as warm jade with a faint pink hue.
At last, he took a pure white towel, drying away the last drop of water. Then he turned, looking at Gu Heng’s disheveled, miserable state.
For some reason, Gu Heng found himself staring, transfixed, at those long, flawless white fingers. He didn’t even notice Zuo Shihuan watching him.
Zuo Shihuan raised a brow slightly, smiling politely.
“I’m surprised. You actually managed to hold out.”
Gu Heng blinked blankly.
Zuo Shihuan’s light brown eyes curved, his smile amused: “See? You did pretty well. I was even counting in my head which second you’d give up. But since you lasted this long, you’d better keep it up for the rest of the day, ”
Gu Heng’s black pupils widened, then darkened sharply, fixing on that calm, smiling face, those soft, red lips opening and closing.
How beautiful those lips were. How dangerous.
Every word that came from them fanned both his anger and his desire.
He wanted to bite those mocking lips, hard, to throw Zuo Shihuan down, to make those same lips cry and tremble and beg for mercy, to hear him breathless and hoarse, unable to stop.
To make him never dare provoke him again.
But Zuo Shihuan, still smug in victory, had no idea of the danger creeping closer.
He was still smiling, still rubbing that spotless towel between his perfect fingers, watching Gu Heng’s strained, shadowed expression with delighted ease, not daring to take a single step closer, bound by Gu Heng’s vow.
Until…
Still in that pleasant mood, Zuo Shihuan finally turned to leave the bathroom they shared.
After a long silence, the beast finally erupted.
In an instant, just as Zuo Shihuan was about to step out of the bathroom, he was seized by a dark, powerful shadow and pulled back inside, feet never touching the tiled floor beyond the door.
When he came to his senses, Zuo Shihuan stared in shock at the mirror. His reflection showed confusion, a hard arm wrapped tight around his waist. Behind him, Gu Heng’s figure slowly came into focus, those deep, shadowed eyes glinting with a dangerous red light, his handsome, somber face curved into a smile.
“Leaving already? Isn’t that a little too optimistic?”
Zuo Shihuan’s eyes widened. He struggled a few times, but it was useless, the heat radiating from behind him pressed close, ready to ignite at any moment.
He froze, too afraid to move.
In the mirror, the man’s face was steeped in desire, dark, terrifyingly intense. His tightly pressed red lips looked like they’d been stained with blood. He stared at Zuo Shihuan without blinking, like a great predator poised to swallow him whole.
Zuo Shihuan’s nerves finally snapped. His neck stiffened as he stammered, defiant but trembling: “What, Gu Heng, you won’t even let me leave? Don’t forget, you were the one who promised!”
A low, rough laugh sounded beside his ear, sending a jolt straight down his spine.
He was terrified that Gu Heng would suddenly give in to that wild, beastly nature and he knew he could. Gu Heng was like some untiring, ferocious creature with endless strength.
Even as an Alpha himself, Zuo Shihuan couldn’t resist Gu Heng’s overwhelming power. He didn’t even know how Gu Heng could have that much energy, it was inhuman. A monster’s.
He hadn’t forgotten last night: collapsing into sleep from exhaustion, only to be woken again, forced into climax after climax, until, in the end, it wasn’t Gu Heng who ran out of strength, but him, hoarse, tear-streaked, and broken, before Gu Heng finally pitied him enough to stop.
That frenzy, that mindless intensity, even now, just remembering it made his body tingle with a strange aftershock, a ghostly ache, mixed with breathless fear.
No matter how good it had felt then, at some point, pleasure so extreme became torment.
He didn’t want to go through that again. A dreadful premonition crawled up his spine. He regretted it, regretted teasing and provoking Gu Heng just because he thought it’d be fun.
Now he’d really lit the fuse in every sense of the word.
Zuo Shihuan’s pale lips trembled as he felt the heat of Gu Heng’s anger at his back. Frightened, he bit down and whispered: “So, Gu Heng… what are you planning to do? I admit I went too far. I shouldn’t have messed with you like that.”
A cold laugh brushed against his ear, making his heart leap into his throat.
“You regret it now? Watching me struggle to hold back just now, wasn’t that enjoyable for you, Shihuan?”
Then came the slow, merciless verdict: “Too late.”
Gu Heng’s voice, still low and magnetic, brushed against his ear, but this time it stirred no trace of desire in Zuo Shihuan’s chest, only fear.
He clenched his fists. Sweat gathered at his brow; his small, anxious face went ghostly pale. His lashes trembled pitifully as he braced himself for whatever cruel punishment might come.
But after waiting with eyes squeezed shut for a long time, no movement came. No attack.
“Aren’t you leaving?”
Zuo Shihuan’s eyes snapped open. Gu Heng stood beside him, face calm again, voice cool.
“What?”
“Call it my suffering for today. You can go, Shihuan.”
“R-really?” Zuo Shihuan blinked, dazed, not daring to believe it.
Gu Heng glanced at his still-pale face, eyes darkening. In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to push the not-yet-recovered Zuo Shihuan any further.
He forced down his frustration, curved his lips into a humorless smile, and said: “What else? You’re the Alpha who got me worked up but won’t take responsibility. Do me a favor and give me some space. Even I’m still a man, if I don’t deal with it, I’ll go insane.”
Zuo Shihuan’s cheeks flushed. He took a few steps back, mumbling: “Oh… okay. I’ll, uh, leave you the bathroom. Do whatever you need.”
Gu Heng gave him a long, deep look as Zuo Shihuan kept retreating, until he finally turned and fled.
The bathroom was silent again.
After a cold shower, Gu Heng stood wrapped in a towel, steam and chill still clinging to his skin. Passing the mirror, he pressed a hand against it, activating the smart home interface.
A blue light flickered across the glass.
“Bathroom access confirmed. What service do you require?”
“Time.”
“Current Federation Time: 13:10. Weather: clear. Temperature: 27 degrees. Wind: 2.1 m/s. Humidity: 47%…”
As the mechanical voice droned on, Gu Heng finally smiled faintly.
In the mirror, his reflection still burned with desire; his expression dark, dangerous. He let out a quiet laugh, lips curving as he ran his tongue across the sharp white tips of his canines.
“Ten hours and fifty minutes left until midnight.”
***
Living room.
After escaping, Zuo Shihuan collapsed onto the sofa, chest heaving, back slick with cold sweat. His lips were pale, but his cheeks burned with a vivid flush.
Even pressed against the cool metal of the couch, the heat in his body wouldn’t fade. His chest rose and fell violently, still caught in the aftershocks of that tension and fear.
He’d almost been pinned down in the bathroom by Gu Heng, unable to get out.
The thought alone made Zuo Shihuan’s heart tremble with lingering fear; his cheeks burned so hotly he wanted to raise a hand to cool them, only to find his own palm even hotter, he quickly dropped it, flustered.
Once he finally managed to calm down, Zuo Shihuan pressed a hand over his face, recalling what had just happened. His ears slowly flushed with embarrassed red as he bit his lower lip, clearly replaying the confrontation with Gu Heng in his mind, analyzing, reflecting, determined to do better next time.
He was, at least, very motivated.
And he had to admit, this metal sofa really did help one cool down.
Deciding not to think about those messy, confusing things anymore, Zuo Shihuan turned on the living room TV to distract himself. The screen was playing one of the currently popular dramas.
He glanced at it casually.
The leads were, as usual, handsome and beautiful Alphas and Omegas, but in Zuo Shihuan’s eyes, not a single one could compare to Gu Heng.
Out of boredom, he settled down and tried to actually watch for a while, curious what exactly it was about these shows that made them so appealing to young viewers.
Although the Zuo family’s products rarely targeted younger consumers, it was undeniable that popular dramas had their own charm. Watching them might give him insight into current market trends, or help him decide which celebrity might best suit the group’s image for future endorsements.
But very soon, Zuo Shihuan lost interest.
It wasn’t just because he didn’t care for television; it was because, no matter which actor he looked at, he couldn’t help but compare them to Gu Heng.
And his conclusion was always the same.
Gu Heng was still the best. His looks, his temperament, utterly unmatched. And it wasn’t just some personal bias; Gu Heng truly was the most striking person Zuo Shihuan had ever seen.
Even among the countless top-tier stars he’d encountered at banquets, none could rival Gu Heng, not in looks, not in presence.
That thought led Zuo Shihuan into deeper contemplation.
Just who was Gu Heng, really?
Even if Gu Heng had told him he worked for the Federation Secret Investigation Bureau, and that his identity was special, could a place like that truly raise someone with such exceptional bearing?
Since entering the Zuo family, Zuo Shihuan had met plenty of elites and nobles, but none possessed the same commanding aura as Gu Heng.
That only made Gu Heng seem all the more mysterious.
Still, no matter what Gu Heng’s background was, Zuo Shihuan had no intention of giving him up. Gu Heng was Gu Heng, and he wasn’t with him for power or status.
If he wanted those things, he could’ve stayed in the Zuo family.
But instead, he chose to leave with Gu Heng, even knowing that meant cutting ties completely, even being cast out.
And Zuo Shihuan didn’t regret it one bit.
From the first day he’d entered the Zuo family, he had already considered that possibility. He’d never trusted the biological father who’d once abandoned him, let alone a vast, devouring conglomerate like the Zuos.
In the lower-city slums, he’d seen people beat each other bloody for pocket change, so what could he expect from a powerful house tangled in enormous interests?
If not for his sudden secondary differentiation into an Alpha, he would never have even set foot into the Zuo family’s gates.
And if one day he were to regress back to a Beta, what then?
They’d probably throw him out again.
From the day he entered that grand mansion, he had tasted mockery and scrutiny for his background. Every step forward had been fraught with open and hidden danger.
He never knew when the heavens might snatch back this unexpected gift and strike him down, but one thing he did know: he could never trust the Zuo family.
So he had quietly made preparations, documents, assets, stored separately in secret places, ready to walk away at a moment’s notice.
During his time there, he had managed to acquire quite a lot: a corporate credit card every Zuo member received, luxury cars, houses, even property on resource planets.
He didn’t move all his assets, though, just the salary he had earned working for the group, and profits he’d made through his own investments using market insights from the Zuo platform, converting them into private holdings like precious metals and cash.
If he really did leave the family, he’d return the properties, cars, and jewelry they’d given him, but he wasn’t foolish enough to hand over every cent.
He had worked hard for the Zuo Group for years, generating no small profit. What he kept was simply what he’d rightfully earned, enough, along with his personal investments, to ensure that he and Gu Heng could live comfortably for life.
As an Alpha, it was only right that he provide for his family.
Even though Gu Heng had his own savings and job, Zuo Shihuan didn’t want to rely on money Gu Heng had earned through such risky work.
He hadn’t forgotten the time Gu Heng was chased by armed men, how he’d been so frightened he couldn’t even attend his engagement ceremony on time, leaving guests waiting, all so he could hide Gu Heng somewhere safe.
For someone as precise and disciplined as Zuo Shihuan, that had been unthinkable.
Punctuality was a rule he lived by; he never made others wait, nor tolerated being kept waiting without reason.
Yet for Gu Heng, who’d been in danger, he’d broken that rule, on the most important day of his engagement, no less, keeping everyone waiting just so he could ensure Gu Heng’s safety.
In truth, the reason Gu Heng had been able to pull off that runaway engagement was simply because Zuo Shihuan’s heart ached for him, he couldn’t bear to see him hurt or sad, much less in danger.
But now that he’d left the Zuo family, the biggest problem wasn’t money, and it wasn’t even anything between him and Gu Heng.
It was something else entirely.
Zuo Shihuan’s gaze remained calm as he kept pressing the remote, flipping through TV channels one after another.
No matter which news station he turned to, there wasn’t a single report unfavorable to the Zuo family.
Let alone any mention of what had actually happened, the runaway groom from the grand engagement banquet between the Zuos and the Yus, an incident that should have shaken the entire Federation.
After all, a very important guest had attended yesterday’s banquet.
His father, along with Blue Eagle Group under the Zuo family, had arranged TV reporters and cameramen in advance, planning to release favorable press coverage that would drive their stock value sky-high.
And indeed, the news broadcast did show a segment: the Federation President’s presence at the Zuo-Yu engagement banquet, followed by reports online that the Federation government and the Zuo family had entered a new partnership.
The internet was buzzing, and Zuo Group’s stocks had soared accordingly.
But the crucial part, the scandal of the Zuo family’s new-generation heir, the Alpha groom, fleeing his own engagement, something that should have gone viral across the entire net, was nowhere to be seen. Reality and cyberspace alike were both painted in a picture of harmony and celebration, as if nothing had ever happened.
No matter how many news channels Zuo Shihuan flipped through, or how deeply he searched online through his communicator, combing for even a trace of reports about his runaway wedding,
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
As if it had never existed.
And yet here he was, sitting in Gu Heng’s living room, the very wedding suit he’d worn during his escape still hanging nearby.
Only by digging into obscure corners of the network, through obscure forums and random discussion threads, could he find faint traces of something amiss, hints of unrest buried between the lines of ordinary gossip:
【CuckooCuckooBird_i: Wow! I finally got to see what a top-tier Federation noble engagement looks like, the groom and bride are both stunning! Absolutely perfect together! I’ve got material for my dreams tonight!】
【XuShiYiChong: I checked, and it turns out my new Starlight Communicator was made by the same conglomerate. I only bought it because my favorite celebrity endorsed it.】
【Peerless_FenHua: You didn’t know? That celebrity you like is rumored to be the Zuo family’s illegitimate son, that’s why he got such a high-profile endorsement everyone else fought for.】
【Little_PearDimples_in_December: Did any of you hear… that something happened at the engagement yesterday?】
【CuckooCuckooBird_i: Sounds like gossip! What happened? Spill it already!】
【Little_PearDimples_in_December: I just heard something went wrong, some unexpected incident. Not sure what exactly, but the reporters seem to have been silenced.】
【Vinegar_Not_Sour_Sugar_Not_Sweet: What happened?! Could it have been… an assassination attempt?!】
【SunnyZebra: Sitting tight, waiting for gossip.】
【CuckooCuckooBird_i: Same here, waiting for gossip +1】
【Awakening_Spring: +1】
【Baozi_Master: +10086】
【CuckooCuckooBird_i: Whatever it was, I just hope the couple’s okay! They were such a gorgeous pair, I haven’t seen such an eye-candy CP in ages, even better than the ones on TV dramas!】
【Little_PearDimples_in_December: Probably nothing serious. There’s been no word of any trouble between the Zuos and the Yus, so the engagement should still be on.】
【Calm_Little_Lard: If it really was an assassination, there would’ve been ambulances, right? Since no one’s talking, it’s either nothing happened, or it’s so serious they had to seal the news completely.】
【Cat_Is_Definitely_Beagle: Whoa, thrilling! Is this a real-life power struggle between noble houses? Watching it like a live drama.】
【Vinegar_Not_Sour_Sugar_Not_Sweet: So we’ve been chatting forever and still no one knows what actually happened? What’s the secret scoop?? I’m dying of curiosity, can’t sleep! Anyone who was there, spill the inside story!】
But before Zuo Shihuan could scroll to the end…
The page suddenly refreshed, and an error message popped up: 404 – Server cannot process request.
When he tried again, the entire thread was gone.
Completely deleted.
Zuo Shihuan stared at the blank screen, not a single trace remaining.
His light brown eyes trembled faintly; his grip on the communicator tightened until his fingers turned red. His eyes burned, his lips pressed hard together.
What he feared most had come true.
Even though he’d humiliated his father and the entire Zuo family by fleeing the wedding in front of the Federation’s high society,
To the outside world, the alliance between the Zuo and Yu families still appeared intact. Which meant that, publicly, he and Yu Lizhu were still engaged, still bound as an “unmarried couple.”
Could he really escape the Zuo family’s reach with Gu Heng, and keep them both safe?
Even Zuo Shihuan himself no longer had that confidence.
He sat slumped on the sofa, head bowed, both hands pressed to his forehead, trembling as he clenched them together. In the shadow of his lashes, a dark, violent light flickered to life.
He wouldn’t do it unless he was left with no other choice.
But if he were truly cornered, he still had plenty of the Zuo family’s secrets in his hands. He couldn’t bring down that colossal beast entirely, but he could certainly muddy the waters enough to make them choke.
And yet, a trace of reluctance passed through his eyes.
He didn’t want it to come to that. He didn’t want countless people dragged into the fallout just for the sake of him and Gu Heng.
His hand tightened around the communicator.
Its red notification light blinked incessantly.
Zuo Shihuan shut his eyes in pain, then gritted his teeth, forcing himself to unlock the communicator again and look through the flood of unread messages that filled his inbox.
A screen full of red notification dots.
Most of them were from people he’d met only after returning to the Zuo family. Many of them probably had no idea what had happened last night, only that there’d been a high-profile engagement between the Zuos and the Yus.
None of them knew the truth behind the runaway groom.
Zuo Shihuan casually opened one or two messages.
Most of them were from various companies and people sending congratulatory messages, expressing their heartfelt blessings to the Zuos and the Yus on the engagement of the two families’ children.
Of course, these messages would always end with either overt or subtle promotion of their own products, or with a hope to establish future business ties with the Zuo family.
If all the messages were such polite, commercial formalities, Zuo Shihuan could have handled them smoothly and without effort. But some of the senders clearly knew about what had really happened at yesterday’s engagement banquet.
A few sent outright malicious, mocking texts, arrogant in tone, taking delight in belittling him, as though certain that he would be cast out of the Zuo family and end up in miserable ruin.
Their faces, even through words, were loathsome.
But Zuo Shihuan had long weathered far worse malice and hardship. Compared to what he had endured before, these spiteful messages stirred not even a ripple in his heart. He didn’t truly take to heart those who had no real power to affect him.
Still, Zuo Shihuan was not someone to just stand by and be bullied. After a few glances, he memorized the names of those people. Even among the anonymous curse-filled messages, he could more or less guess who they were, judging by their tone, phrasing, and habitual expressions.
After all, he had only returned to the Zuo family a few years ago; there weren’t many people who had his contact number, and those who harbored such deep hostility toward him were precisely those whose interests had once clashed with his.
There was time.
Zuo Shihuan could settle accounts with them slowly.
What truly moved him, however, were the messages from people who genuinely cared about him, those who, worried by last night’s events, reached out to ask if he was safe.
Among them were some of his half-siblings in the Zuo family, Butler Lin, the nanny of the little sister he had once helped name, Zuo Shishu. To his surprise, quite a few of the Zuo family’s maids, drivers, and cooks had banded together to have someone send their messages of concern. There were also a few subordinates from his company and colleagues he’d met through work who had come to admire him.
These were the ones who truly cared, and it was because of them that Zuo Shihuan’s eyes reddened again, his hand tightening around the communicator, unable to finish reading all the heartfelt messages of worry and goodwill.
[Butler Lin]: Young Master Zuo Shihuan, I’ve already taken care of the matters you instructed in advance. Your personal belongings and luggage have been packed. Would you like me to prepare breakfast for you? If you have any other needs, please don’t hesitate to tell me. If you decide to leave the Zuo residence, I still hope you’ll allow me to continue serving you.
Seeing Butler Lin’s message, subtly indicating that even if he left the Zuo family, the butler intended to follow him, stirred something in Zuo Shihuan’s heart.
He rubbed his forehead and couldn’t help but let out a small smile.
Even though Butler Lin was standing on his side, Zuo Shihuan could never in good conscience let him actually resign. For the butler, the Zuo family was a secure position with excellent benefits, far better than following him into uncertainty.
Besides…
Zuo Shihuan sighed helplessly and glanced at the deferential form of address in Butler Lin’s message.
No matter how many times he heard it, he could never quite get used to being called Young Master or you in such formal tones. He wasn’t someone who had grown up as a true scion of a wealthy family, every time he heard those titles, they felt awkward, alien to him.
Even now, he didn’t think of himself as a Zuo family young master. The true young masters and ladies were his half-siblings who had grown up within the Zuo household…
Just like,
He opened the next message.
[Zuo Shicong]: Brother Shihuan, Brother Shihuan!
Instantly, the image of a lively, noisy boy popped into his mind, and he was pulled back to that day when the scatterbrained Zuo Shicong had eagerly asked him to attend his high school’s parent-teacher conference.
He remembered that chatty, cheerful kid always being accompanied by a bespectacled, cool-headed classmate, a quiet top student who, in truth, was a good kid too.
[Zuo Shicong]: Brother Shihuan, are you okay? I saw you at the engagement banquet with your friend… but that’s not important! What matters is that if you like them, I hope you’ll be happy!
[Zuo Shicong]: If you’re not coming back, I just want to say thank you for getting Father to come to my parent-teacher meeting last time. I really wish it had been you there, though. No matter where you go, Brother Shihuan will always be the best big brother in my heart!
[Zuo Shicong]: Oh, and, Zuo Shixin’s right next to me. He’s got a lot he wants to say to you too, hahahahaha! That tsundere guy complained for ages about Father after that meeting, and now he’s got so much he wants to tell you, but #@￥%…
Suddenly the text turned into a string of gibberish.
When Zuo Shihuan scrolled down in confusion, he realized the sender’s tone had changed, someone else had taken over.
[Zuo Shicong (Zuo Shixin)]: Hello, Brother Shihuan. What Shicong said about the parent meeting isn’t exactly accurate. I’m truly grateful that, despite your busy schedule, you cared about our studies and made life in the Zuo family easier for us in many ways. Whatever decision you make, we’ll fully support you.
[Zuo Shicong]: Not just that! Not just that!!
Zuo Shihuan raised an eyebrow, sure enough, the tone had switched back to the original sender’s energetic voice.
[Zuo Shicong]: Shixin says you have great judgment and strong investment skills, that even if you leave the Zuo family, you’ll be totally fine! So we thought, why don’t we give our money to Brother Shihuan to invest? It’s not like we need it anyway, we’ve got food and clothes here, so why not let you use it!
[Zuo Shicong]: Ah! Shixin’s tugging at my sleeve again, what, did I say something wrong?! Brother Shihuan, what do you think? Reply to me, quick!
Of course, Zuo Shihuan could tell that the two half-brothers didn’t really mean to make him invest. They were just worried he’d have no income after leaving the Zuo family, and had come up with this excuse to give him their savings without hurting his pride.
He truly didn’t know what to say anymore.
Zuo Shihuan gave a helpless laugh, and as he laughed, his eyes, faintly red, shimmered with a trace of tears. His nose stung; a sudden tightness rose in his throat, and he found himself unable to speak.
He continued scrolling down to the next message.
The next one began with a blurry photo, half of a round, chubby white face and a pair of big black eyes stared curiously into the camera, as if someone had accidentally hit the photo button.
Zuo Shihuan couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, his light brown eyes rippling with an easy, gentle warmth. He immediately recognized the little girl in the picture, his half-sister, Zuo Shishu.
She was a chubby two-year-old who could barely talk. Every time she saw Zuo Shihuan, she’d stretch out her little arms, demanding to be picked up. But after being held for a while, she’d start kicking her plump legs, restless and squirmy, eager to run around again.
When she got tired from playing, she’d always turn back to see if Zuo Shihuan was still there. If he was, she’d immediately want another hug, mischievous and clever, perfectly aware of who would indulge her and love her sincerely.
Even her nanny often marveled at this.
The little miss never dared act so bold with her other brothers, sisters, or even her biological father, Zuo Zoujian. Only with Zuo Shihuan would she stretch out her arms and demand affection.
In fact, only the little miss of the Zuo family dared to do that.
After all, Zuo Shihuan was known for his serious, reserved temperament. He was always busy with work, leaving little time for personal connection. Most people in the Zuo household were too intimidated to joke or act close with him.
It was pure chance, a happy accident, that he had helped care for a babbling toddler sister, and through her, met the first blood relative in the Zuo family he didn’t need to guard himself against.
For once, he could let down his defenses and simply play.
After all, she was only two, too young to scheme or hurt anyone.
The first word little Zuo Shishu ever learned to say was “Shihuan.” When her wide, innocent eyes looked up at him full of dependence, Zuo Shihuan truly understood what it meant to be needed by another life. It was as if he really had gained a little sister, a genuine connection of blood and affection.
Not the kind of “family” that only spoke the word while draining him dry, sucking every drop of his blood, twisting every demand into something cruel, treating him like a tireless slave until he was physically and mentally exhausted, unable even to see light when he lifted his head, chilled to the bone with no rest in sight.
That kind of kinship was too cold, too cruel.
It had nearly killed him once, the pain like being flayed alive, only through that agony had he found rebirth.
Yet even now, every time he thought of his biological mother, a frozen numbness seized his heart. The tears had long dried up, leaving behind only desolate emptiness. His healed body would still, from time to time, feel phantom pain, as if the past could never let him rest.
So he had once sealed off his heart completely, numbed himself, unwilling to let anyone in, unwilling to be hurt, piece by piece, again.
He didn’t know if it was fate’s cruel trick or heaven’s compensation, but one by one, he met people who treated him sincerely.
Through them, Zuo Shihuan finally learned what normal human emotion was.
It could be as vast and unknowable as the ocean, overwhelming him until he nearly drowned in its warmth, or as small as a single glowing bulb: something seemingly insignificant, yet enough to bring light and warmth to both sides.
To Zuo Shihuan, the two-year-old Zuo Shishu was that small glowing bulb, the one who taught him that true family didn’t mean exploitation or sacrifice, but something simple and tender: a bond that warmed and illuminated each other’s lives.
The nanny who cared for little Zuo Shishu was equally delighted that her young charge had “latched onto” such a kind-hearted brother. After Zuo Shihuan began showing concern for them, she also found her days caring for the little miss had become much easier.
The nanny would often encourage the little miss to contact her big brother.
This time, upon hearing what had happened to Zuo Shihuan, she wanted the little girl to reach out to him, but since she had rarely spoken to him herself, she didn’t know how to start.
So she sat there, communicator in hand, fretting for quite a while.
Little Zuo Shishu, watching her, noticed the familiar profile picture on the screen, it was her favorite playmate, the “big brother” she adored.
Her dark, round eyes gleamed with mischief. She reached out to grab the communicator, wanting to “play” with Zuo Shihuan, and accidentally pressed a button.
As a result, the first thing Zuo Shihuan saw was a series of selfies, several blurry shots of Zuo Shishu’s mischievous grin and tiny baby teeth, and in the background, the nanny’s panicked face as she realized what the little girl was doing.
Each photo looked like a frame in a short film, capturing the entire scene.
The final one was of Zuo Shishu pouting as the “toy” was taken from her, raising her tiny hands in protest, while the nanny, having realized the photos had already been sent and couldn’t be recalled, looked horrified.
Zuo Shihuan couldn’t help laughing, he smiled as he saved all the photos.
Then he saw a string of frantic, apologetic messages from the nanny, explaining everything in a flustered rush, which made him squint and smile again.
Yet every time his fingers hovered over the screen to reply, he slowly drew them back.
Especially when he reached the part where the nanny indignantly declared that it must have been Zuo’s father’s fault, that he had gone too far, forcing Young Master Zuo Shihuan to flee his own engagement, insisting that Zuo Shihuan bore no blame at all. Having seen the uglier side of the Zuo family, she was certain that someone as good as him could only have left because he had suffered some enormous injustice.
She only hoped that after leaving, Zuo Shihuan would still visit little Zuo Shishu sometimes.
And, she added eagerly, if he ever needed her help, she could act as his “eyes and ears” in the Zuo household, feeding him inside information, clearly excited at the idea.
Zuo Shihuan couldn’t help but laugh helplessly at that. Since he’d already left the Zuo family, he had no intention of doing anything further against them, nor did he want to drag the nanny or little Zuo Shishu into the mess.
The nanny later mentioned that today, the little young miss had pulled her along to wander all around the Zuo residence, leaving her completely puzzled, until the little miss very cleverly led her to stand right outside Zuo Shihuan’s bedroom door, as if wanting to wait for him to come out and play with her.
Of course, Zuo Shihuan never appeared.
The slightly lonely little girl eventually returned to her own room to play with her toys, just like before. But the nanny who usually took care of her could clearly sense that Miss Zuo Shishu wasn’t as lively as usual today, she could feel that the little girl missed Zuo Shihuan very much.
When he read that last line, Zuo Shihuan felt his heart twist painfully at the thought of that small, fragile figure from his memory. His light brown eyes stayed fixed on the screen for a long time, still dazed and motionless.
He tugged at the corner of his dry lips, but in the end didn’t type a single word.
Forcing himself to look away, he skimmed through the messages from others, though his mind kept circling back to what he’d just seen.
No matter who the messages were from, Zuo Shihuan didn’t reply to a single one. Somewhat unexpectedly, even Mother Zuo’s only Omega daughter, Zuo Shiyun, had sent a message of concern.
When Zuo Shihuan had first learned the truth of his disgraceful identity as an illegitimate child, he’d been hit with a wave of disappointment and bitterness, but all he could do was accept it. So, when faced with the sneers and mockery of Father Zuo’s legal wife, although he resented her malice, he still tried to avoid any direct conflict with her.
Zuo Shihuan knew perfectly well that the real root of the problem lay with Father Zuo.
No one wishes to be born a b*stard.
No child ever wants to be burdened with irresponsible parents.
Unfortunately, as the one forced into existence, Zuo Shihuan had never been given a choice, only the duty to silently endure. And he had long since resolved that his own child would never have to suffer the same pain.
However, Father Zuo’s legitimate Omega daughter, Zuo Shiyun, seemed to have established a faint bond with him through the few brief interactions they’d had.
When she learned that Zuo Shihuan had run away from his engagement banquet, she was utterly shocked, completely unable to believe that someone as rational and composed as him could act so impulsively, so emotionally.
She even reached out to him herself, her words filled with anxious concern:
【Zuo Shiyun: Brother Shihuan, when are you coming back?】
【Zuo Shiyun: You’re not really planning on never coming back, are you…? Is that Beta really so special that you’d leave the Zuo family for him? But how will you live after leaving the Zuo family? Father is furious, and I’m really worried about you. Why don’t you just apologize and come home?】
Zuo Shihuan pressed his fingers against his brow and sighed quietly.
No one is incapable of living without someone else.
And he, of all people, had grown up without needing the Zuo family at all, so once he left, he would simply continue living, as he always had.
As the pampered Omega daughter of the Zuo family’s matriarch, Zuo Shiyun had grown up cherished and indulged. To her, the idea of surviving outside the Zuo family was unimaginable.
Not only because she was raised like a caged songbird, but because everyone in the Zuo family had been spoiled from birth, accustomed to silk and servants, helpless once stripped of their comfort.
Zuo Shihuan could tell that Shiyun meant no harm. To her, staying within the Zuo family was the best, safest path. She was only projecting her own understanding, believing that the same must be true for him, unable to comprehend why he would run away from a marriage.
Her advice came from genuine worry, even if it meant urging him to bow his head and apologize to their father.
But Zuo Shihuan couldn’t do it.
He sat there, his face expressionless, eyes fixed on the glowing screen for a long time, his fingers pressed so tightly against the device that his knuckles turned white, and still, he couldn’t bring himself to send even the simplest reply.
Over time, through all the days spent together, Zuo Shihuan realized he could no longer treat these people the way he once had.
They had once been just a group of individuals, some related by blood, some not, forced to live together under the name of “family.”
When he’d first entered the Zuo household, they had all made things difficult for him. He’d wondered back then how he should handle these so-called relatives.
They weren’t much closer than strangers, only linked by a thread of blood. And yet, unlike true friends, they could never share pure affection or mutual support. There were always conflicts of interest, hidden rivalries, or temporary alliances formed for greater gain.
In short, Zuo Shihuan had never learned how to belong to such a vast, complex family, nor how to deal with the sudden appearance of so many siblings.
So he had always kept a careful distance, restrained but courteous, doing only what he felt was his basic responsibility as part of a household, helping when he could.
He thought he was merely doing the bare minimum, yet somehow, unknowingly, he had gathered people who cared about him around his side.
The heaviness he used to feel at the thought of facing the enormous Zuo family was now replaced, as he read message after message, by a different kind of weight, one that was warm, moving, and quietly powerful.
Perhaps that was why, Zuo Shihuan couldn’t bring himself to reply. He didn’t dare. He even considered cutting off contact altogether, afraid that if he stayed connected, he might drag them all into the same whirlpool he was trapped in.
But some people… could never escape that whirlpool.
***
The messages filled his screen, endless messages, flooding in one after another, until Zuo Shihuan grew restless and anxious.
He didn’t bother scrolling anymore. He simply searched for Yu Lizhu’s name directly.
And the moment he opened her latest message, his expression froze, his pupils constricting sharply. His hand clenched tight around the communicator as he stared at the screen.
【Yu Lizhu: I’m at your house right now. Your father has detained me, I can’t leave the Zuo residence. So, Zuo Shihuan, you must run. Quickly!】
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