Work Text:
You tread water
Fighting for the air in your lungs
Move, move closer
Maybe you can right all your wrongs
But you let go
Cause your hope is gone
And every answer fades away....
This is Your Biggest Mistake-Ellie Goulding
The room at 181 Clinic had become a witness to Wu Suowei's desperation. Papers littered, each one a carefully crafted strategy, a calculated move in the chess game he thought he was playing for Chi Cheng's heart. Photos, printed about, handwritten notes detailing every thing about Chi Cheng, every opportunity he could exploit to drive a wedge between them. The evidence of his manipulation lay scattered across the room.
The cigarette butts told their own story. Fifteen... no, eighteen of them crushed into the ash tray that did not seem to fit in the clinic. The smell of stale tobacco mixed with the antiseptic scent that clung to everything in this place, creating a nauseating cocktail that matched the churning in his stomach.
His fingers still trembled slightly, whether from nicotine withdrawal or the phantom echo of Chi Cheng's words, he couldn't tell anymore.
"I don't care what your purpose was before, you tell me, from the beginning till now, did you ever love me? I don't care if it was just a millisecond. As long as you nod your head, I will disregard everything." Chi Cheng had asked him in an pleading tone.
And yet, he chose to lie. Wu Suowei felt as though he did the biggest mistake of his life.
"No, the reason why I got together with you back then was to take revenge on you and Yue Yue. Now that I continue staying with you, It was just to use you, to make you get the money that I want. By the time I'm qualified in Yue Yue's heart again, I will continue our relationship. I'm a beta, how can I spend my entire life with an alpha? I do not love you.."
Those cold words he said out of insecurity, feeling as though Chi Cheng would have gone back to Wang Shou, kept repeating in Wu Suowei’s mind. He felt a wave of nausea ride through him.
"You're feeling that I love Wang Shuo but not you right? You're not blaming me for treating you too well, so you cannot tell the sincerity I have right?" He could hear Chi Cheng's anguished words.
Wu Suowei pressed his palms against his eyes, but the words continued their relentless assault on his memory, each syllable a fresh wound.
"From now on you'll switch places with him! I will treat him better, I will care about him more, he's anyways an omega who's much more compatible for me unlike a beta like you!"
The hierarchy of their world had always been clear, alphas at the top, omegas cherished and protected despite their supposed fragility, and betas... betas like him, caught in the middle, neither commanding respect nor inspiring protective instincts.
He had known this, his entire life, had learned to navigate it, to use his position as someone who could blend into the background. But hearing it from Chi Cheng's lips, those words wielded like a weapon designed specifically to cut him down, had shattered something deep inside him.
"I don't wish to fucking see you again, we will never meet again...." Chi Cheng's angry voice screamed inside his mind.
Those final words echoed in the silence of his small room, bouncing off the walls like bullets. Each repetition carved deeper into his heart, until he wondered if there was anything left inside him that wasn't bleeding.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway made him look up, hastily wiping at his face with the back of his hand. The door opened without a knock and his friend's concerned face appeared in the doorway.
"Oh my God, Wei Wei!!" Jiang Xiaoshuai's voice was soft, careful, as he took in the scene. "How long have you been sitting here like this?"
"I don't know..." The words came out as a whisper, his throat raw from crying and smoking. "What time is it..?"
"It's 9AM, morning."
9AM... The confrontation with Chi Cheng had been on evening...around 5PM. Hours had passed in a blur of replaying conversations, analysing where everything had gone wrong, and chain smoking his way through three packs of cigarettes.
Jiang Xiaoshuai stepped carefully around the papers, his medical training evident in how he assessed his friends condition, the pale complexion, the tremor in his hands, the hollow look in his eyes.
"When did you last eat?" He asked in concern. Seeing the scene before him, he realized with a sinking heart that Chi Cheng must have discovered the scheme they had plotted to tear him and Yue Yue apart and now Wu Suowei was the one paying the price
"I'm not hungry, Teacher." Wu Suowei wearily replied.
"That wasn't what I asked." Jiang Xiaoshuai crouched down, beginning to gather the scattered papers. "Aren't these are all about Chi Cheng and Yue Yue? I had told you not to leave any physical evidence of our plan.."
It wasn't a question, but Wu Suowei nodded anyway. "I believed that if I could just tear him and Yue Yue apart, everything would be over… but I never imagined that somewhere along the way, I would fall in love."
"Wei Wei, I did tell you it might have been easier if you’d been honest, at least after you both genuinely started to date… but don't be afraid. No matter what’s happened, I believe Chi Cheng will come back to you." Jiang Xiaoshuai replied in a gentle tone.
He said he never wants to see me again." The words felt like glass in Wu Suowei's throat. "He meant it, Teacher. I could see it in his eyes. I've lost him."
Jiang Xiaoshuai settled beside him on the floor, his back against the wall. "Maybe. But destroying yourself isn't going to change that."
They sat in silence for a while, Jiang Xiangshuai's presence a steady anchor in the storm of Wu Suowei's thoughts. The smell of cigarettes gradually gave way to the familiar antiseptic scent of the clinic. They could hear distant sounds of medical equipment and muffled conversations.
One week later...
When the emergency came, it was sudden. A call in the middle of the afternoon, his mother being rushed into the hospital after collapsing at home.
By the time Wu Suowei and Jiang Xiaoshuai arrived, she was already admitted, hooked to monitors, her breaths shallow but steady. Panic clawed at Wu Suowei’s chest as he signed forms with shaking hands, every line on the paper blurring through the haze of tears in his eyes.
Hours later, when the worst of the crisis had passed, Wu Suowei sat outside her room, numb, waiting for updates. A folder of medical records lay forgotten on the chair beside him, until his restless fingers, desperate for answers, began flipping through the pages spelling out a truth he hadn’t been prepared for.
Stage IV.
Pancreatic Cancer.
Palliative care.
His vision swam. The papers slipped from his grasp, scattering across the floor like broken glass.
"Wei Wei…"
Jiang Xiaoshuai was at his side in an instant, crouching down to gather the fallen pages. Wu Suowei’s voice cracked as he rasped, "Why didn't anyone tell me? How...how could this be hidden from me?"
Jiang Xiaoshuai set the papers aside and pulled him into a fierce embrace. Wu Suowei collapsed against him, sobs ripping free from somewhere deep and raw.
"Wei Wei," Jiang Xiaoshuai said softly, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes, "This happens more than you think. Sometimes the family is the last to know… because the sick person wants to protect them from the truth for as long as possible. Your mother probably wanted to spare you."
"But Chi Cheng knew..," Wu Suowei choked, his words muffled against his best friend's shoulder. "He knew, and he didn’t tell me..."
Before Jiang Xiaoshuai could answer, a weak voice called from the bed. "I asked him not to..."
Both men turned. His mother was awake, her face pale but her gaze unwavering. She motioned faintly for Wu Suowei to come closer. He stumbled to her side, Jiang Xiaoshuai keeping a steadying hand on his back.
Her thin fingers reached for his, trembling but sure. "Because I didn't want you to carry this before you had to. I wanted you to live your days without this shadow hanging over you."
Tears blurred his vision. "Mama…" He sank to his knees by the bed, clutching her hand. "I could have helped you. I could have..." His voice broke.
"I just wanted to protect you, Qi-er," she whispered, her frail hand brushing his hair, her touch both fragile and anchoring. "Please don't hate him for keeping my promise..."
Wu Suowei bowed his head against her arm, his sobs spilling out again, Jiang Xiaoshuai's hand steady on his shoulder as if holding him together. The weight of her illness and the silence of those he had trusted most pressed down on him until he could barely breathe. How much more agony he has to endure..
Three days later...
The hospital corridor stretched endlessly before him, lights casting everything in harsh, unforgiving white. Wu Suowei’s footsteps echoed off the polished floors as he made his way to room 314, carrying a small container of congee from the vendor outside. His mother probably wouldn’t eat it, but he had to try.
But when he entered the room, something was different. She looked brighter, her cheeks flushed faintly with color, her eyes sharper than they had been in weeks. The frailty was still there, but beneath it was a sudden energy, a spark.
"Qi-er," she greeted him warmly, her voice stronger than it had been in days. "You have been bringing me this congee every day, but today I think I could cook better myself..."
The doctor confirmed the change later, his expression calm but cautious. "Her condition has stabilized for now. She's eating, speaking, moving more freely. I think it's best she spends some time at home. Comfort matters most now."
Wu Suowei's chest loosened with something like relief. For the first time in three days, he wheeled her out of the hospital under the open sky.
At home, she insisted on going straight to the kitchen. He tried to protest, but she shooed him away with the stubbornness that had carried her through years of raising him alone. Before long, the familiar scent of ginger and soy filled their home, wrapping him in something that felt achingly like childhood.
Over dinner, simple, warm dishes she had somehow managed to put together despite her weakness as she studied him across the table. "You know," she said, setting her chopsticks down, "your friend Da Chi ? Where is he?.. "
Wu Suowei's chest tightened. He stared down at his bowl. "Chi Cheng's been so busy lately. We hardly see each other anymore..."
His mother's gaze lingered on him, warm and knowing. "Busy, yes… but that boy is a good one. You know, when I was admitted the other month, it was Da Chi who stayed until late, sorting out the papers, making sure I was comfortable. He didn't leave until he was sure everything was in order."
She smiled faintly, her eyes soft. "Not everyone would do that. You should remember how much he’s already done for us."
"I mean it, Qi-er..." She smiled faintly, though her eyes carried something deeper. "Also you're twenty-six already. Someday, you’ll need an omega mate not just friends. Someone to share the weight with. Have children of your own. I'd like to see you find that..."
His throat constricted, but he forced himself to smile for her sake. "…Maybe soon, Mama."
Her smile widened, soft and hopeful. "Good. I'll hold you to that."
That night, after he washed the dishes, he found her dozing on the couch, the lamplight casting gentle shadows over her face. She looked almost peaceful, as if the illness that had hollowed her out was retreating, just for a little while.
Wu Suowei stood there quietly, the ache in his chest both sharper and gentler than before. He didn’t know how long this would last. But for now, he had her home. For now, he had her warmth, her voice, the smell of her cooking lingering in the air.
And maybe, just maybe, he could believe in the false promise he’d made at the dinner table. He then moved quietly, not wanting to disturb his mother, and went to fetch a blanket.
When he returned, he laid the fabric gently across her knees. Only then did he realize something was amiss. He reached out, brushing her arm. The skin beneath his fingertips was cool, far too cool. A chill more piercing than winter spread through his chest.
"Ma...?" His voice was unsteady, disbelieving. He shook her shoulder lightly, almost pleading, but she did not stir. The silence pressed heavily around him.
His knees buckled, and he sank beside her, clutching the hands that had once guided him through childhood. They were growing colder no matter how tightly he held them. His vision blurred as tears welled and fell unchecked down his cheeks.
Fragments of memory flooded his mind, his mother peeling the golden skin of loquats and placing the sweet fruit into his small hands, her laughter as she roasted corn fresh from the field, the warmth of her presence during the simplest meals. These images, once so ordinary, now cut into him with unbearable tenderness.
The night stretched into dawn. Sunlight crept into the room, washing over the still figure on the couch, over the grieving son who knelt beside her.
Wu Suowei then pressed his forehead to the floor and bowed deeply, three times, each movement steady but trembling at its edges.
"Ma…" His voice cracked, heavy with sorrow yet disciplined, restrained by the weight of reverence. "I am sorry. I have been an unfilial son. I may never find an omega mate, may never marry, may never give you the peace and pride you deserved...."
His tears continued to fall, soundless, staining the wooden floor. Yet his posture remained upright, his movements deliberate, as though in this final moment, he could at least give her the dignity and respect that she had always deserved.
Wu Suowei then leaned forward, his forehead pressing gently against his mother's still shoulder. The faint scent of medicine lingered in her clothes, but her warmth was gone, replaced by a coldness that cut deeper than any blade. His voice broke as he whispered, almost like a child again, "Ma… don’t leave me. Not yet. I'm still here… I'm still your son."
His arms tightened around her frail body, as if holding her could somehow get her back into the world. Silent sobs shook his chest, his tears falling onto her hands, onto the same hands that had once guided his own when he was too small to walk on his own. "Maa..," he choked out, "what will I do now? I… I have no one. I'm all alone."
The house was unbearably quiet, save for the muffled sound of his grief. The rising dawn painted the room in a soft, indifferent glow, and in that light, Wu Suowei clung to her with all the desperation of a son who could not yet let go.
One day later...
The funeral parlor smelled of lilies and incense, sweetness that seemed to mock the emptiness inside Wu Suowei's chest.
The ceremony had concluded with all the rituals, the bowing, the burning of paper money. But now, as the last of the mourners left the funeral home, Wu Suowei remained frozen in place, staring at his mother's portrait with eyes that had forgotten how to blink.
The photograph made her look almost radiant. That smile in the picture, it was the same one that had greeted him every morning when he was a boy, the same one that steadied him when he failed, the same one that never faltered even when the sickness was eating her away bit by bit. Now, that smile was all he had left.
Just a frozen image in a frame, something he would carry back to an home that would never again hold the sound of her voice or her laughter.
"Wei Wei." Jiang Xiaoshuai’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "We should go soon..."
But Wu Suowei couldn't move. The black suit they'd bought for the occasion felt like a costume, as if he were playing the role of a grieving son rather than actually being one. The fabric was a constant reminder that this day was real, that his mother was truly gone.
His face was haggard. His eyes, once bright with mischief and ambition, had become hollow. He had wept until there were no tears left, until exhaustion claimed him. What remained now was something worse than grief. It was apathy that now threatened to swallow him whole.
Guo Chengyu and Jiang Xiaoshuai stood on his side, their presence had become a steady comfort over the past few days. Neither of them spoke much, they had learned that words felt inadequate in the face of such loss, that sometimes the most important support came in the form of simply being present.
The hall was nearly empty now, just a few elderly relatives lingering near the guest book, when Wu Suowei's peripheral vision caught a familiar figure approaching. His heart, which had felt dead in his chest for days, suddenly lurched with a painful spike of recognition.
Chi Cheng moved with the same measured grace that had managed to capture Wu Suowei's heart, his tall frame clothed in a perfectly tailored black suit that made him look devastating. His hair was styled, not a strand out of place, and his expression carried composed neutrality that Wu Suowei had once found mysterious and alluring. Now it felt like looking at a stranger wearing a familiar face.
Chi Cheng approached the memorial table with respectful steps, his posture straight and formal. He paused before the portrait of Wu Suowei's mother, his hands clasped behind his back, and for a moment his composed mask seemed to slip just slightly. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, a tiny crack in his perfect facade that suggested this moment cost him something too.
Then he bent forward in a deep bow, holding it just long enough to honor the custom. It was clear he'd thought about this moment, maybe even gone over it in his head before today. When he finally rose, his expression was unreadable again, as if nothing had slipped through at all.
For a heartbeat that stretched into eternity, Wu Suowei waited. His breath caught in his throat, his hands clenched unconsciously at his sides, his entire being focused on the man who he had once promised to love forever.
This was the moment, surely, the moment when Chi Cheng would turn, when their eyes would meet across the space, when some acknowledgment would pass between them. An apology, perhaps, or at least recognition of what they had once shared. Recognition that Wu Suowei existed, that his pain mattered, that the death of his mother was worthy of condolence from someone who had once claimed to love him.
But Chi Cheng only squared his shoulders, smoothed down his cufflinks with practiced ease, and moved on. His shoes clicked steadily against the polished floor, each step pulling him farther from the man silently pleading for even the faintest sign of kindness.
He made his way to the exit without so much as a glance toward Wu Suowei, leaving him behind as though he were just another stranger present in the funeral hall.
The sound of those departing footsteps echoed in the sudden silence, like a door closing, like the final nail being driven into the coffin of whatever they had once been to each other.
Wu Suowei's chest contracted with such force that he wondered if his heart might crack. The pain was sharp and immediate, cutting through the numbness that had protected him throughout the ceremony. It wasn't just the absence of comfort, it was the deliberate withholding of it, the calculated coldness that spoke louder than any cruel words ever could.
"I will talk to him now...." Guo Chengyu muttered under his breath, wanting to get his best friend back.
"Don't," Jiang Xiaoshuai warned quietly. "Not here. Not today."
But Wu Suowei barely registered the voices around him. All he could hear were those retreating footsteps, all he could see was Chi Cheng’s stiff back as it disappeared into the distance.
The weight of it pressed down on him, the knowledge that he had become invisible to the man who once knew him by touch alone, who had whispered promises in the dark and called him his heart, his future, his everything.
That man had passed him by as if his sorrow belonged to someone else, a stranger. And Wu Suowei knew, bitterly, that he had no one to blame but himself. Why had he ever told that lie, that he had never loved Chi Cheng?
That Evening...
The family home, now did not seem like a home. Wu Suowei set his mother's portrait on the small altar, next to his fathers photo, adjusting the angle three times before his hands finally stilled.
The incense holder sat ready beside a cup of tea that would grow cold untouched, and a small plate of the dumplings she had loved but hadn't been able to eat in her final days.
The silence was absolute. No soft murmur of the television programs she'd watched to pass time. No gentle voice calling his name or asking if he'd eaten or reminding him to take his vitamins. Just silence, stretching through the rooms like a living thing that fed on his loneliness.
Wu Suowei sank into the chair where he had spent last few nights, watching over her sleep, and stared at the portrait. In the soft lamplight, her smile seemed almost alive, as if at any moment she might step out of the frame and chide him for looking so lost.
"What am I supposed to do now....?" he whispered to the empty room.
The question hung in the air, unanswered and unanswerable. For so long, his life had been structured around two central pillars: his love for Chi Cheng and his care for his mother. Now both were gone, one to death, the other to a coldness that felt somehow worse than death because it was chosen, deliberate, cruel in its completeness.
The hours passed like poison, thick and slow and bitter. Wu Suowei found himself thinking of his losses, his mother's laugh, her advice, her warm hand holding his. Chi Cheng's smile, the way his eyes used to light up when Wu Suowei entered a room, the weight of his arm around Wu Suowei's shoulders during movies. The future he had imagined, growing old together, maybe adopting children, building a lovely family.
All of it, gone. Reduced to memories that would fade with time, to photographs that would yellow at the edges, to empty spaces that nothing could fill.
The clock on the wall ticked toward midnight, each second a small torture. Wu Suowei's mind began to wander down dark pathways, exploring thoughts that had lurked at the edges of his consciousness for days but which he had pushed away in favor of hope, of fighting, of believing that somehow things would get better.
What if they didn't? What if this emptiness, this crushing weight of solitude, was all that awaited him? What if every day for the rest of his life would be like this, waking to silence, going through the motions of living without any real purpose, watching other people build connections while he remained forever on the outside looking in?
The thought settled over him like a heavy blanket, smothering what little spark of life remained in his chest.
He was twenty-six years old and already felt ancient, worn down by grief and rejection until he was nothing more than a hollow shell shambling through the motions of existence.
The Bridge...
It was nearly two in the morning when Wu Suowei found himself walking through the empty streets, his feet carrying him with no destination in mind. The city at night was a different than during the day, much quieter, more honest somehow, stripped of its daytime pretenses and revealing its true nature beneath the streetlights and neon signs.
His steps eventually led him to the Huangpu River, to the pedestrian walkway that ran along its banks.
The water moved slowly in the darkness, reflecting the lights of the city in broken, patterns that hurt to look at directly. The bridge stretched across the water, its cables and towers reaching toward a sky that offered no comfort, no answers, no relief.
Wu Suowei dragged himself up the stairs to the pedestrian level, his legs moving as though they no longer belonged to him, like he was watching a stranger climb instead of feeling his own body. The wind off the river cut against his face, crisp and cold, and for a moment the sheer cleanness of it made his chest ache.
Down below, the water kept moving steadily toward the sea, carrying everything the city cast aside, its trash and its daydreams, its broken vows and forgotten hopes.
He walked to the center of the bridge and stopped, his hands gripping the rail with white knuckles. The metal was cold beneath his palms, solid and real in a way that nothing else had felt for weeks. From this height, the water looked black as ink, deep and mysterious and welcoming in its darkness.
"She's gone," he said to the wind, testing the words aloud for the first time since the funeral. They felt strange in his mouth, foreign and impossible despite their truth. "She's really gone...."
The admission broke something loose inside him, and suddenly the tears he thought he had exhausted came flooding back, hot and bitter against his frozen cheeks. He sobbed into the wind, great gasping sounds that were carried away by the current of air and lost in the vastness of the night.
"And he doesn't care," he continued, the words torn from some deep place inside him. "He looked right through me like I was nothing. Like I never mattered at all....but wasn't this my fault…?"
The city lights blurred through his tears, becoming patterns of color that held no meaning. Everything felt weird now, removed from reality, as if he were viewing his life through thick glass that distorted everything beyond recognition.
The pain in his chest was the only thing that felt real anymore, the only thing that proved he was still alive.
But even that kind of pain was getting harder to endure. It clung to him like a heavy load, pressing down until every breath felt forced, until just being alive felt like pushing against a tide he could never overcome.
How much longer could he keep this up? How many mornings could he wake to the same emptiness, how many nights could he lie awake staring at the ceiling, asking himself what any of it was for?
His mother had been his anchor, his reason for getting up each day, for taking care of himself, for believing that tomorrow might be better than today. Without her, he felt himself drifting, unmoored and purposeless, carried along by currents he couldn't control toward destinations he couldn't see.
And Chi Cheng... Chi Cheng had been his dream of the future, the alpha has been his hope for something larger than himself, his proof that love could exist even for someone like him.
That loss felt different from his mother's death, less pure somehow, tainted with betrayal and abandonment and the terrible knowledge that it had been a choice. His mother hadn't chosen to leave him. Cancer had taken that decision out of her hands. But Chi Cheng had actively decided that Wu Suowei was no longer worth his time, his compassion...all because of that one lie.
The combination of the two losses felt impossible to survive. Like trying to live without air or water or sunlight...technically possible for a while, but in the end unsustainable.
"Maybe," he whispered to the wind, "maybe I don't have to..."
The thought came to him whole, as though it had been hiding in the corners of his mind, biding its time for this exact moment. It should have startled him, should have stirred some instinct to resist or protest. But instead, it felt like release, like at last laying down a weight that had long since grown unbearable.
If he couldn't live without the pain, then maybe he didn't have to live at all. Maybe there was another choice, a way to make the hurt stop, to find some kind of peace even if it wasn't the kind he had once imagined for himself.
The water below seemed to call, dark and patient and infinitely forgiving. It would be cold, certainly, but only for a moment. And after that... after that, there would be silence. Real silence, not the terrible quiet of his empty home but the profound peace of no longer having to feel anything at all.
His grip on the rail loosened, then tightened again as a wave of giddiness washed over him. The height was dizzying, the drop longer than he had expected. But maybe that was better. Maybe quick was better than slow, certain better than uncertain.
He thought of his mother's face in the portrait, smiling with such warmth and love. Would she be disappointed in him for giving up? Or would she understand that some pain was simply too much for one person to bear?
She had fought so hard to stay with him, had endured treatments that left her weak and sick and barely recognizable, all because she couldn't stand the thought of leaving him alone. But she had left anyway, in the end. Not by choice, but the result was the same.
He thought of Chi Cheng walking away from the funeral, his back straight and his steps sure, never once looking back to see if Wu Suowei needed comfort or support or even basic acknowledgment of his existence. That image would haunt him forever if he let it, would play on an endless loop in his mind until it drove him truly insane.
Unless he chose not to let it.
His hands were shaking now, whether from cold or adrenaline or simple terror he couldn't tell. The rational part of his mind was screaming warnings, listing all the reasons this was a terrible idea, all the people who would be hurt by his choice. But that voice felt very far away, muffled by the overwhelming weight of his exhaustion and grief.
He was so tired. Tired of hurting, tired of hoping, tired of waking up each morning to the same emptiness and going to bed each night with the same despair. Tired of being a burden on his friends, of seeing the worry in their eyes every time they looked at him, of knowing that no matter how much they cared they couldn't fix the fundamental brokenness inside him.
Maybe this was the kindest thing he could do, for them, for himself, for everyone who had to watch him slowly dissolve into nothing anyway. At least this way it would be quick, clean, final.
No more desperate phone calls from Jiang Xiaoshuai checking to make sure he was still alive. No more careful conversations where everyone pretended things might get better when they all knew they wouldn't.
Wu Suowei climbed up onto the lower rail, his movements careful and deliberate. The wind was stronger here, pulling at his clothes and hair with insistent fingers. The water seemed impossibly far below, a dark mirror that reflected nothing back to him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, though he wasn't sure who he was apologizing to. His mother, perhaps, for not being stronger. His friends, for giving up despite their efforts to help him. Himself, for letting it come to this. His ex lover Chi Cheng, whose heart he had broken with that single lie.
But even as he spoke the words, he felt a strange sense of peace settling over him. The first real calm he had experienced in days. Soon, the pain would stop. Soon, he would see his mother again, would be able to tell her how much he had missed her, how lost he had been without her guidance. Soon, there would be no more mornings to dread, no more nights to endure, no more endless hours of existing without really living.
He resolved that by the time dawn arrived, his presence would vanish with it. The fleeting world he carried would sink into a quiet, eternal rest. Nothing more, nothing less, just like a bead of morning dew, he too would fall away, merging with the waters beneath..
He closed his eyes and let go.
The fall was nothing like he had imagined. Instead of the quick drop he had expected, there was a moment of weightlessness, of floating suspended between the bridge and the water, between decision and consequence.
The wind rushed past his ears like a roar, drowning out everything else, and for an instant he felt almost like he was flying.
Then the water hit him like a physical blow, driving the air from his lungs and shocking his system into sudden, desperate wakefulness. The cold was beyond description, not just temperature but a force that invaded every cell of his body, that turned his blood to ice and his thoughts to static.
The river closed over his head like a black fist, pulling him down into depths that had no bottom, no light, no mercy.
Panic flooded his system, overriding every rational thought with the primitive animal need to survive. His arms and legs began to move without conscious direction, fighting against the current and the cold and the weight of his waterlogged clothes. But he was already sinking, the surface growing more distant with each passing second, his lungs screaming for air he couldn't reach.
This was a mistake, his mind screamed as consciousness began to fade at the edges. This was a terrible mistake.
But it was too late for second thoughts, too late for regrets or changes of heart. The water filled his mouth, his nose, invaded his lungs with liquid ice that felt like drowning from the inside out.
His vision began to tunnel, darkness creeping in from all sides until there was only a small circle of murky light somewhere impossibly far above.
His last coherent thought was of his mother's smile in the portrait, and how disappointed she would be to know he had chosen this ending for himself. He could also see an outline of what appeared to be a distraught Chi Cheng, trying to reach out for him.
Then the darkness claimed him, and Wu Suowei knew nothing more.
Five minutes later...
The first sensation was pain, a sharp, rhythmic pressure against his chest that felt like someone was trying to break his ribs. Then came the water, forcing its way out of his lungs in violent, convulsive coughs that left him gasping and retching on what felt like concrete.
"Come on, come on," a voice was saying, urgent and worried. Hands pressed against his chest again, pumping in a steady rhythm. "Don't you dare die on me."
Wu Suowei's eyes fluttered open to a world that seemed too bright, too sharp, too real after the soft darkness of unconsciousness. He was lying on his side on what appeared to be a dock or pier, river water streaming from his clothes and hair to form puddles on the weathered boards.
A figure knelt beside him, a bespectacled man in suit, his hands trying to make sure as they worked to keep him breathing.
"There you are," he said when he saw his eyes focus on his face. "Stay with me now. You're going to be okay."
But Wu Suowei didn't want to be okay. He wanted to sink back into the peaceful darkness, to let go of the pain and the grief and the terrible weight of continuing to exist.
He tried to speak, to tell her to stop, to let him go, but all that came out was another violent cough that brought up more river water.
"Easy," the man said, his voice gentle but firm. "Don't try to talk yet. Just breathe."
He had a kind face, Wu Suowei realized through the haze of confusion and coldness. Older than him by perhaps three years, with a calm face. He looked like a corporate manager, someone who had better things to do at two in the morning than fish suicidal strangers out of the Huangpu River.
"Why?" he finally managed to croak, the word scraping against his raw throat.
"Why what? Why did I pull you out?" He sat back, studying his face with an expression he couldn't read. "Because I was walking home after visiting my sick sister at the hospital when I saw you jump. Because I know how to swim. Because I couldn't just watch someone die and do nothing about it. He paused, something flickering in his expression. "Because I know what it's like to want the pain to stop....."
"You should have left me," he whispered, and meant it. The pain he had been trying to escape was still there, still pressing against his chest like a living thing. Nothing had changed except that he was now cold and wet and humiliated on top of everything else.
The man's expression softened. "I'm Gao Tu," he said. "I've seen a lot of people in the kind of pain you're in right now."
"You don't understand..."
"I understand that you're hurt. I understand that whatever brought you to that bridge tonight felt impossible to survive." His voice was calm, but not without warmth. "I also understand that jumping off a bridge is not a good permanent solution to temporary problems."
"They're not temporary," Wu Suowei said, anger flickering to life in his chest. "She's dead. She's not coming back. And he..." He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't find words for the depth of Chi Cheng's perceived betrayal.
Gao Tu was quiet for a moment, his hands moving efficiently to check his pulse, his breathing. "Someone you loved?"
"My mother. Cancer." The words came out flat, drained of emotion. "The funeral was today. Yesterday. I don't know what time it is....."
"I'm sorry," Gao Tu said, and his sympathy sounded genuine. "Losing a parent is one of the hardest things a person can go through. Especially when they've been sick for a long time."
"And there was someone else. Someone who..." Wu Suowei's voice cracked. "It doesn't matter anymore."
"It matters to you. That makes it matter." Gao Tu replied
"I don't want to be here," Wu Suowei said quietly. "I don't want to do this anymore."
"I know." Gao Tu's voice was gentle but steady. "But you are here. And that means something, even if it doesn't feel like it right now..."
"What does it mean?" The question came out bitter, challenging.
"It means you get another chance. Another day. Another opportunity to find something worth staying for." he met his eyes directly, his gaze steady and uncompromising. "It means your story doesn't end in the river."
Wu Suowei studied his rescuer's face more carefully, noting the careful way he held himself, the subtle signs of someone carrying their own heavy burdens. "You're an omega..."
Gao Tu's entire body went rigid, eyes darting around the empty dock as if checking for eavesdroppers. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"The suppressants are good, but not perfect." Wu Suowei's voice was still rough from the river water. "Wood Sage, right? It's... nice. Calming."
For a moment, Gao Tu looked like he might deny it again. Then his shoulders sagged slightly, the careful mask slipping just enough to reveal the bone deep exhaustion beneath. "Please don't... if anyone found out..."
"I won't tell anyone." Wu Suowei struggled to sit up, the world swaying around him.
Gao Tu was silent admission seemed to cost him something. "And you're...?"
"Wu Suowei." He accepted the coat Gao Tu had on him and wrapped around his shoulders, though the warmth felt like accepting life he'd rejected. "Thank you. Even though I didn't want..."
"I know." Gao Tu's voice was soft with understanding. "But you're here now. That has to count for something."
Gao Tu looked at Wu Suowei with sudden concern. "Do you have somewhere to go? Someone to call?"
The thought of facing Jiang Xiangshuai's worried questions and possible anger and concern, felt overwhelming. "I... no. Not for now..."
Gao Tu seemed to understand without explanation. He helped Wu Suowei to his feet. "My place isn't much, but it's close. If you want..."
Wu Suowei nodded, surprised by his own acceptance. Maybe it was curiosity about this stranger who had saved him, or maybe he just wasn't ready to face the questions that would come with hospitals and concerned friends. Together, they slipped away into the maze of side streets.
Gao Tu's apartment was a study in careful economy. Located on the fourth floor of a building that had seen better decades, it was clean but sparse.
The small living room contained a worn sofa, a folding table that served as both desk and dining surface, and shelves lined with business journals. There were also photos of Gao Tu from college days standing next to a tall strikingly handsome man. Everything was organized with precision.
"The bathroom's there if you want to clean up," Gao Tu said, gesturing down a narrow hallway. "I'll make some tea."
When Wu Suowei emerged twenty minutes later, having shed his wet clothes for a borrowed robe that smelled faintly of sage and laundry detergent, he found Gao Tu sitting at the folding table with two steaming cups. The omega..no beta, Wu Suowei corrected himself, remembering the need for pretense, looked smaller somehow in his own space.
"Thank you," Wu Suowei said, accepting the cup gratefully. The tea was simple but good, warming him from the inside out.
They sat in companionable silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Gao Tu spoke, his voice quiet but steady.
"I've thought about it too, you know. The bridge." He stared into his tea as if it might hold answers. "There have been nights when it seemed like the only solution to... everything."
Wu Suowei looked up, studying the man who had saved his life. Up close, he could see the subtle signs of long term suppressant use, the slight tremor in Gao Tu's hands, the way he occasionally pressed his lips together as if fighting nausea, the careful way he moved as if his body was constantly betraying him.
"What stopped you?"
Gao Tu was quiet for a long moment, considering the question. "Responsibility, mostly. People depending on me, even when they don't know it." His voice carried a weight that spoke of sacrifices made and prices paid. "My sister, she's sick. Has been for years. And my father... he's not exactly reliable when it comes to taking care of anyone but himself."
"Your father?"
"Alcoholic. Gambler. The kind of man who sees his children as resources to be exploited rather than people to be protected." Gao Tu's voice was matter of fact, as if he'd long since made peace with this reality. "He doesn't know what I am, thank god. My mother made me promise to hide it before she died. Said it would only make things worse if he found out."
Wu Suowei felt a chill that had nothing to do with his recent submersion in the river. "He would use it against you?"
"Use it, sell it, trade it for gambling debts, who knows....?" Gao Tu shrugged with forced casualness. "The point is, if I'm not here to work, to earn money, to take care of things... what happens to my sister? Who makes sure she gets her medication, her treatments..?"
"That's a lot of pressure to carry alone."
"Yeah, well." Gao Tu's smile was bitter. "Someone has to do it."
Wu Suowei sipped his tea, thinking about responsibility and the weight of being needed. "Is that the only reason why you pretend to be a beta…?"
Gao Tu's hand tightened around his cup. "My boss... he has very strong opinions about omegas. Says they're weak, manipulative, unreliable, filthy and too emotional ..." The pain in his voice was carefully controlled but unmistakable. "I've known him for ten years. Started as his friend, worked my way up to secretary. He trusts me, relies on me, but if he knew what I really was..."
"He'd fire you."
"If I was lucky." Gao Tu set down his cup with deliberate care. "More likely he'd make my life hell. Make sure I couldn't get another job anywhere in the industry...."
The picture Gao Tu painted was depressingly familiar, the careful balance of hiding one's true nature, the constant fear of discovery, the exhaustion of living as someone else. But there was something else in his voice when he mentioned his boss, a note that suggested their relationship was more complicated than simple employer and employee.
"You care about him," Wu Suowei observed. "Your boss..."
Gao Tu's entire body went still, and for a moment Wu Suowei thought he might deny it. Then something seemed to break inside him, and he buried his face in his hands.
"God, I'm pathetic, aren't I....?" His voice was muffled, thick with unshed tears. "Ten years I've been in love with someone who thinks people like me are disgusting. Ten years of watching him date others, of listening to him complain about omega employees, of pretending it doesn't feel like a knife in my chest every time he talks about how much he hates what I am..."
The raw pain in Gao Tu's voice was achingly familiar. Wu Suowei recognized it, the particular agony of loving someone who couldn't or wouldn't love you back, of being rejected for something fundamental about yourself that you couldn't change.
"Does he know? About your feelings?"
Gao Tu laughed, but there was no humor in it. "How could he? Even if I wasn't pretending to be a beta, even if he didn't hate omegas, why would someone like him want someone like me? I'm his secretary, for god's sake. I organize his calendar and answer his phones and clean up his messes. I'm invisible to him except maybe when he needs something...."
"But you stay."
"Where else would I go?" Gao Tu's voice was quiet, defeated. "This job pays well enough to take care of my sister, to keep my father from selling the apartment out from under us. And... and I get to see him every day. Even if it's just professionally, even if it hurts, at least I get to be part of his life in some small way..."
Wu Suowei felt something twist in his chest, recognition, sympathy, the shared understanding of people who knew what it meant to love hopelessly. "It's killing you though. The suppressants, the pretending and the constant stress."
"Maybe." Gao Tu wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Some days I think it would be easier to just... stop. Stop taking the pills,the inhaler, the injections, stop pretending, stop caring so much about someone who would be disgusted if he knew the truth about me."
"But you don't."
"No." Gao Tu met his eyes directly. "Because even with all the pain, even with the constant fear of discovery, even knowing I'll never have what I really want... there are still people who need me. My sister needs her medication. My boss needs someone he can trust to handle his affairs. And maybe... maybe that's enough."
They sat in silence again, two broken people sharing space and understanding in the early morning hours. Outside, the city was beginning to wake, the distant sound of traffic, the clatter of early commuters, the mundane symphony of life continuing despite personal tragedies.
"How do you do it?" Wu Suowei asked finally. "How do you keep going when everything hurts?"
Gao Tu considered the question seriously. "I focus on the next thing. The next task, the next responsibility, the next person who needs something from me. I don't think about tomorrow or next week or next year, that's too overwhelming. I just think about getting through today."
"And that works?"
"Most days." Gao Tu's smile was small but genuine. "Some days I have to break it down even smaller, the next hour, the next minute, the next breath. But it works. Somehow, it works..."
Wu Suowei thought about his mother's portrait waiting in his empty home, about Chi Cheng's retreating figure, about the weight of grief that had felt impossible to carry. But here was Gao Tu, carrying his own impossible weight, an unrequited love that was slowly poisoning him, a family that depended on his sacrifices, a life built on lies and suppressants and the constant fear of discovery. And yet he was still here, still functioning, still finding ways to care for others even when he couldn't properly care for himself.
"As I've told you before, I lost my mother yesterday," Wu Suowei said quietly. "Cancer. She was all I had, really. The only person who..." He swallowed hard. "And there was someone else. Someone I loved who decided I wasn't worth..and that was my fault..."
"I'm sorry." Gao Tu's voice was soft with genuine sympathy. "Losing a parent is... I can't imagine."
"It feels like the end of everything. Like there's no point in any of it without her here." Wu Suowei stared into his tea, watching steam rise from the surface. "When I was on that bridge tonight, all I could think about was how tired I was. Tired of hurting, tired of being alone, tired of trying to find meaning in any of it."
"But you're here now."
"Because you saved me. But I don't know... I don't know how to keep going from here."
Gao Tu leaned forward, his expression earnest. "You don't have to know. You just have to try. One day, one hour, one breath at a time."
"What if that's not enough?"
"Then we'll figure out what comes next when we get there." Gao Tu reached across the table, his hand covering Wu Suowei's. "You're not alone, okay? I know it feels like it, I know everything seems impossible right now. But you're not alone."
The touch was gentle, comforting in a way Wu Suowei hadn't experienced in months. Here was someone who understood pain, who carried his own seemingly insurmountable burdens, offering support not because he had answers but because he knew what it meant to need human connection in the darkness.
"Why?" Suowei asked. "Why help me? You don't even know me."
Gao Tu's smile was sad but warm. "Because someone helped me once, when I thought I couldn't go on. Because we're both broken in our own ways, and maybe broken people should stick together. Because..." He paused, seeming to search for words. "Because your mother loved you enough to fight cancer as long as she could. The least I can do is help you fight for the life she wanted you to have."
Outside, dawn was beginning to creep across the sky, painting the walls of the small apartment in soft shades of gold. Somewhere in the city, people were waking up to their own struggles and sorrows. But here, in this modest room that smelled of sage and determination, two strangers had found something precious, understanding and the knowledge that survival was possible even when it seemed impossible.
Wu Suowei squeezed Gao Tu's hand, feeling something shift inside his chest. Not healing, not yet, but the faintest possibility of it. The first glimpse of a future that might contain something other than endless grief.
"Thank you," he whispered, and meant it in ways that went far beyond gratitude for being pulled from the river.
"Thank you," Gao Tu replied, and Wu Suowei understood that he meant it too, that sometimes saving someone else was the same as saving yourself, that connection could be its own form of rescue.
The sun continued its slow rise over the city, and two broken souls sat together in the growing light, learning that sometimes the most profound healing began not with answers, but with no longer having to carry the weight of pain alone.
As the morning light grew stronger, Gao Tu glanced at the clock on his kitchen wall and sighed. "I should probably get ready for work soon. And you..." He looked at Suowei with gentle concern. "You should probably let your friends know you're okay. They must be worried."
Wu Suowei nodded, though the thought of facing questions about where he'd been filled him with exhaustion. "My phone... it probably got damaged in the river."
"You can use mine, If you want to.." Gao Tu handed over his device without hesitation. "But first..." He hesitated, then pulled out a business card and scribbled something on the back. "My personal number. In case you... in case you need someone to talk to who understands."
Wu Suowei took the card, reading the neat handwriting. "Thank you. For everything." He looked up, meeting Gao Tu's eyes directly. "I hope... I hope someday you won't have to hide anymore. That you'll find a way to be with the person you love without having to pretend to be someone else."
Gao Tu's smile was wistful. "Maybe. Or maybe I'll find someone who loves me for exactly what I am, suppressants and sage scent and all." He paused. "Either way, I'm not giving up. And neither are you, okay?"
"Okay," Wu Suowei agreed, surprised by how much he meant it.
They exchanged numbers properly, Gao Tu programming his contact information into Suowei's water damaged phone with the patient efficiency of someone accustomed to fixing other people's problems.
As Wu Suowei prepared to leave, wearing borrowed clothes that were slightly too small but clean and dry, he felt something he hadn't experienced in months, hope.
Not the desperate, clinging kind that had driven him to manipulation and schemes, but something quieter and more sustainable. The hope that came from knowing he wasn't completely alone in the world.
"Take care of yourself," Gao Tu said as they stood at the door. "Really take care of yourself. Your mother would want that."
"You too, Gao Tu" Wu Suowei replied. "And... thank you. For pulling me out. For bringing me here. For reminding me that survival is possible."
One hour later...
The walk back to his home felt different in the morning light. The same streets that had seemed hostile and alien in his grief stricken wandering now looked simply tired, worn by the passage of countless lives but not unkind.
Wu Suowei moved slowly, partly from physical exhaustion but mostly because he was processing everything that had happened, the bridge, the river, Gao Tu's quiet wisdom about taking life one breath at a time.
As he climbed the stairs to door, he could hear voices from inside his home, familiar, worried voices that made his chest tighten with guilt. He'd been so consumed with his own pain that he hadn't thought about how his disappearance would affect the people who cared about him.
The key turned in the lock with a soft click, and the voices inside went silent.
"Wei Wei?" Jiang Xiaoshuai’s voice was sharp with hope and fear.
"It's me," Wu Suowei called back, stepping inside to find his living room full of people who looked like they'd been through their own version of hell.
Jiang Xiaoshuai was the first to reach him, medical training evident in the way he immediately began checking for injuries, scanning Suowei's face, his posture, looking for signs of harm.
"Where have you been? Your phone went straight to voicemail, you weren't here when I came by this morning, we thought...." His voice cracked slightly. "We thought maybe you'd..."
"I'm okay," Wu Suowei said quietly, accepting his friend's worried embrace. "I'm sorry I scared you...."
It was then that he noticed the other figure rising from his sofa, and his breath caught in his throat.
Chi Cheng stood in the morning light streaming through the windows, and he looked terrible. His usually perfect hair was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled as if he'd slept in them, and his eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion and tears.
"Wei Wei..," Chi Cheng breathed, and his voice was raw, broken in a way Wu Suowei had never heard before.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other across the small room. Wu Suowei took in the sight of this man who had walked away from his grief with such cold composure just yesterday, who now looked as shattered as Wu Suowei felt.
Chi Cheng's hands were trembling slightly, and he seemed to be struggling with words that wouldn't come.
"Guo Chengyu called me," Jiang Xiaoshuai explained, his voice carefully neutral as he glanced between them. "When I couldn't find you, I panicked and called him. Chi Cheng was staying there, and when he heard you were missing..." He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.
"I searched everywhere," Chi Cheng said suddenly, the words tumbling out in a rush. "The clinic, the places we used to go together, the hospital where your mother... I drove around all night looking for you. I was so scared that I'd... that my coldness yesterday had..." He couldn't finish the sentence, but he didn't need to.
Wu Suowei felt something shift in his chest, a loosening of the tight knot of rage and hurt that had been choking him since the funeral. This was not the indifferent man who had walked away yesterday. This was someone who had been genuinely terrified of losing him, even after everything that had happened between them.
"Chi Cheng," he began, but found himself cut off as the alpha closed the distance between them in three quick strides and pulled him into a fierce embrace.
The hug was desperate, clinging, nothing like the careful, measured affection Chi Cheng had shown him during their relationship. This was raw need, the kind of hold that spoke of someone who had been convinced they would never get the chance to touch this person again.
"I'm sorry..," Chi Cheng whispered against Suowei's hair, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry for yesterday, for walking away, for being such a cold bastard when you needed..." He pulled back just enough to cup Wu Suowei's face in his hands, thumbs brushing across his cheekbones. "I missed you. God, I missed you so much, and I was too proud and too angry to admit it."
Wu Suowei stared up at him, seeing something in Chi Cheng's expression that he'd thought was lost forever, genuine care, real affection, the kind of raw vulnerability that the alpha usually kept locked away behind his composed facade.
"I lied..," Wu Suowei said quietly, the words coming from some deep, honest place inside him that Gao Tu's wisdom had helped him find. "When I said I didn't love you anymore. I lied because I was hurt and angry and I thought you wanted Wang Shuo more than me. But it wasn't true..."
Chi Cheng's breath hitched, his grip on Wu Suowei's face tightening slightly. "I know. I knew even when you said it. And I... I said those terrible things because I was scared and hurt. Scared that you were right about not loving me..."
"And Wang Shuo...?"
"Is gone," Chi Cheng said firmly. "Left for America with his brother. And even if he hadn't... it doesn't matter. It never mattered the way you mattered. I was just too stupid and stubborn to see it."
Wu Suowei felt tears beginning to gather in his eyes, not the bitter, desperate tears he'd cried on the bridge, but something cleaner. Relief, maybe. Or the beginning of genuine healing.
"I don't know if we can fix this," he said honestly. "I don't know if we can go back to what we were."
"Then we'll figure out what we can be going forward," Chi Cheng replied, echoing Gao Tu's words about taking things one step at a time. "If you're willing to try."
Wu Suowei thought about the bridge, about the cold water of the river, about Gao Tu's quiet courage in the face of his own impossible situation.
He thought about his mother's portrait sitting on the altar in his bedroom, and how she would want him to choose life, choose love, choose the messy complicated business of being human even when it hurt.
"I'm willing to try," he said, and felt something like peace settle in his chest.
Jiang Xiangshuai, who had been watching this reunion, finally allowed himself to smile. "Good," he said simply. "Now, both of you look like hell. Wei Wei, you need food, sleep and probably a proper check up. Chi Cheng, you need sleep. And I need coffee before I collapse."
As they moved toward the kitchen, settling into the familiar rhythm of caring for each other's basic needs, Wu Suowei found himself thinking about Gao Tu, who was probably at work by now, carefully maintaining his beta facade while his heart quietly broke for someone who would never know how much he was loved.
Someday, Wu Suowei thought, maybe Gao Tu will find his own version of this morning. Someone who will see past the suppressants and the carefully constructed lies to the beautiful, caring person underneath.
It wasn't a promise he could make, wasn't a future he could guarantee. But it was a hope he could carry, a small light to hold against the darkness for someone who had quite literally pulled him back from the edge.
And maybe, Wu Suowei reflected as Chi Cheng's hand found his across the kitchen table, that was how healing really worked, not in grand gestures or dramatic revelations, but in the quiet accumulation of hope, one shared moment at a time.