Chapter Text
And I know you think you can run,
You're scared to believe I'm the one,
But I just can't let you go.
I'd let the world burn for you,
This is how it always had to end,
If I can't have you, then no one can.
– Chris Grey
"Be honest with me, Pinming," The voice cuts through the stillness of the afternoon. "Is this all happening a little too fast?"
Hua Yong stops in his tracks, his fist frozen mid-air as if time itself hesitates with him.
His arm lingers there, muscles taut beneath calm skin, a quiet tension barely contained. Without thinking, he leans in closer toward the closed door, the faintest movement, so slight it might be missed by anyone watching. From the outside, his expression betrays nothing, no sign of the storm simmering beneath. His features are composed, impassive. Just another man, standing still, quietly waiting, blending seamlessly into the background. A picture of mildness and control.
But beneath that placid mask, everything sharpens. The warmth inside him drains away, replaced by a cold that spreads like ice along his spine. It’s a cold born not of fear or hesitation, but of something far darker—calculation, resolve, and a ruthless determination. In that moment, Hua Yong’s mind races through every possibility, every move, every consequence. The quiet stillness around him contrasts with the storm building within. His breath is steady, unshaken, but the chill in his veins whispers a warning: this is far from over.
He pulls back, almost imperceptibly, retreating from the door’s edge, but the cold lingers, an unspoken threat cloaked in silence.
“I don’t think I’m the right person to advise you on your personal life, sir.” Chen Pinming says, his voice calm but firm, carefully measured as if walking a tightrope.
Shaoyou growls sharply, impatience flashing through his usually steady tone. “Cut the bullshit,” He snaps. “Out of everyone in my life, you’re the one I trust the most.”
Hua Yong hears the exchange with quiet interest, tilting his head slightly. He has never once seen the Beta as a threat. True, Chen Pinming holds a unique position. He is the one and only secretary to Sheng Shaoyou, Hua Yong’s beloved. That closeness grants him privileges no one else can claim, but in Hua Yong’s world, proximity doesn’t equal power. He expects Pinming to know his place, to stay within the invisible lines carved out by control, possession, and unyielding dominance. Those lines aren’t suggestions; they’re borders not to be crossed. To Hua Yong, Pinming is a piece on the board, useful, but ultimately expendable. Any step beyond his assigned role is a challenge, a threat that must be dealt with swiftly and without mercy. Because in Hua Yong’s eyes, Shaoyou is his to claim, and no one, not even a loyal secretary, has the right to get too close.
Yet, in this charged moment, Hua Yong catches something different in Pinming’s calm demeanor, a subtle challenge, a quiet assertion of power that isn’t supposed to be there. For a fleeting second, an unfamiliar thought flickers through Hua Yong’s mind: What would it be like to remove this Beta from the chessboard altogether? To rewrite the rules so that only he holds the pieces: no obstacles, no unexpected players.
But the thought slips away as quickly as it comes, buried beneath a cold smile that never reaches his eyes.
“From what I’ve seen of Hua Xiansheng,” Pinming begins carefully, his tone measured but sincere, “he is a dependable man. There’s no doubt in my mind that he loves you, deeply, fiercely.” He pauses, as if weighing his next words. “The lengths he’s willing to go for you, the sacrifices he’d make, I can assure you, no one else could match that.” There’s a momentary pause, heavy and thick between them. “But while I am certain his feelings are genuine and true, I’m not so sure about his intentions toward you, sir.”
Shaoyou’s tone is careful as he asks, “What do you mean?”
Pinming exhales slowly, his breath steady as he chooses his words with deliberate care. “One year ago, you knew nothing about him. Hua Xiansheng was just a name, an anonymous figure lurking behind the scenes, the largest stakeholder in our rival company.” He pauses, letting the weight of that fact settle between them. “But now,” He continues, voice lower, “not only are you seriously considering merging Shengfang Biotech with X Holdings, you’re carrying his child.” His tone sharpens. “I’m not saying he has some hidden, nefarious agenda. Hua Yong’s motives may be genuine. But if I were you, I’d take a step back and really get to know him before you commit fully. Give yourself time to adjust, to understand what it truly means to be with him, in every way.”
Pinming’s words hang in the air, a cautious warning wrapped in concern, urging patience where there’s only rush.
Shaoyou remains silent for a moment, the weight of Pinming’s words pressing down on him as he processes the caution woven into the warning. “I understand what you’re saying,” He finally replies, his tone careful but resolute. “Thank you for your honesty.”
Pinming clears his throat softly, breaking the quiet that lingers between them. “Anytime, sir.”
The conversation between Pinming and Shaoyou gradually fades into a heavy silence, broken only by the soft rustling of paperwork and the steady clatter of a keyboard. Neither man notices the faint shadow lurking just beyond the doorway, silently listening, absorbing every word without making a sound. In their minds, Hua Yong is miles away, locked in a battle with the latest turmoil shaking the stock market, a calculated storm that only he could single-handedly resolve. Unbeknownst to them, the chaos they imagine is no random act of fate; it’s a carefully engineered move by Hua Yong himself, a strategic play to manipulate the shares of a company he’s been plotting to acquire. Having delegated the intricacies of the operation to his trusted minions, Hua Yong has slipped away from his office with a singular purpose: to surprise Shaoyou, to remind him of his presence and his claim.
But instead, what he stumbles upon is far more unsettling; a glimpse of the reality that his place in Shaoyou’s life is still fragile, unsteady, not yet cemented.
Since the moment Hua Yong first laid eyes on Shaoyou, he has been utterly captivated, enchanted by a fascination that teeters dangerously close to obsession. It’s not merely attraction; it’s a consuming force that shapes every decision he makes, every calculated risk he takes. His every move is fueled by a relentless, unyielding desire to claim Shaoyou as his own; completely, irrevocably, beyond question. There is something magnetic about Shaoyou’s Alpha presence; the quiet self-confidence, the way he carries himself with unwavering assurance. Hua Yong is drawn to that strength, but even more so to the vulnerability hidden beneath. The pure, almost naive determination to protect and save everyone around him, even if it means sacrificing his own well-being, mesmerizes Hua Yong. It’s a paradox that both intrigues and haunts him, revealing depths he never expected.
The more Hua Yong learns about Shaoyou, the more he understands the complexity behind that calm exterior. The battles fought silently, the weight of unspoken burdens, and the fragile heart that beats fiercely beneath it all. Each revelation only tightens the hold Shaoyou has over him, a binding neither time nor logic can undo. In every moment, Hua Yong feels the slow, inevitable pull of something far greater than business or power, a connection that defies reason and demands everything he has to give.
Alphas are sought after, admired, and often fought over, but an S-Class Alpha is a league apart. They represent the pinnacle, the absolute apex of the human species, a rare breed whose presence commands reverence and awe. In fact, less than one percent of the entire world’s population belongs to this elite category, making them not only powerful but also exceedingly scarce. Their rarity only intensifies the desire they inspire. To be claimed by an S-Class Alpha is considered the ultimate honor and privilege; a status symbol wrapped in raw, untamed strength and unshakable dominance. They are not just leaders or protectors; they embody the very essence of power and authority, a force of nature that few dare to challenge.
This scarcity breeds a fierce competition, a hunger among those who yearn not just for affection, but for ownership, for a bond that is as unbreakable as it is coveted. The allure of an S-Class Alpha lies not only in their unmatched physical and mental prowess but also in the profound security and purpose they offer to those who become theirs. In a world where strength defines survival, being owned by an S-Class Alpha means more than submission, it means belonging to something greater, a rare and precious connection that few will ever experience.
So Hua Yong understands, intimately, deeply, why Sheng Shaoyou is considered precious. It's not just the surface-level things, though those alone would be enough to turn heads. Shaoyou is intelligent, calculating when necessary but never cruel, with a sharpness of mind honed by both academia and lived experience. He is cultured, composed, and carries himself with the kind of aristocratic grace that speaks of generations of refinement; every gesture precise, every word carefully chosen.
People don’t just admire him; they aspire to be near him. He is, by every measurable standard, an enviable match, someone who could have his pick of the world’s elite. And yet, Shaoyou has always defied expectations. Rather than bask in privilege or rest on the laurels of his family name, he has carved his own path. He has climbed higher, pushed further, and stood firmer than anyone ever anticipated. But what sets him apart, what renders Hua Yong helplessly captivated, is not just what he is, but what he chooses to become. Despite being born into a body that was never meant to carry life, Shaoyou now does. He carries it with quiet strength and stubborn dignity: the future heir of Hua Yong’s bloodline growing within him.
It is a miracle.
Not in the poetic sense, but in the brutal, biological, undeniable truth of it.
And it binds Hua Yong to him in a way no contract, no bond, no public display ever could. Because it is proof, undeniable, living proof, that Shaoyou has given him something no one else could: legacy, lineage, and the irreversible intertwining of their fates. It is sacred. It is primal. It is his. One of many reasons, though perhaps the most visceral, that Hua Yong knows, with absolute certainty, that he will never let Shaoyou go. Not now. Not ever.
The very idea of Shaoyou leaving, of running from him, of slipping out of reach? Impossible. Not because Shaoyou is weak, far from it. But because Hua Yong has already built the cage, soft-lined and invisible, and Shaoyou stepped into it without even realizing. Which is why Pinming’s advice, though well-meaning, is utterly useless. He speaks of caution, of space, of waiting for trust to grow naturally, as though this is still some delicate courtship balanced on hope and restraint. But Hua Yong passed the point of patience long ago. He is no longer waiting to be chosen.
He is claiming what is already his.
“How do you want it handled, sir?”
Hua Yong lifts his gaze from the chessboard, where a solitary game plays out under his control. The room is silent except for the faint click of the bishop sliding across the polished wood, knocking a lone pawn aside with calculated precision. He plays against himself, a battle of wills set on black and white squares. His eyes narrow as he studies the board, tracing the battlefield of his own making. Every move is deliberate, a reflection of the tangled web he weaves beyond the chess pieces. The pawn he just topples reminds him sharply of Chen Pinming, an unwelcome interference in his carefully controlled game. Pinming’s meddling is an unpredictable variable, a threat to the order Hua Yong demands.
He taps the edge of the table, thoughts swirling. How much interference can he tolerate before the entire board collapses? Hua Yong refuses to lose control; not here, not now. This is his game, and he plays it on his terms. Still, the question hangs in the air, whispered but heavy: “How do you want it handled?” The answer isn’t simple. It never is. But one thing is clear: Hua Yong decides. No one else.
He looks up at his right-hand man—Chang Yu. The man has been his secretary for years, a fixture in Hua Yong’s life and operations, quietly weaving himself into every intricate part of his world. Chang Yu’s service is more than just dutiful; it’s nearly instinctual, a loyalty so deep it borders on devotion. In the relentless tide of Hua Yong’s ambition and control, Chang Yu is the steady anchor. Years of close proximity have created an unspoken bond between them. They don’t need words to communicate; a glance or a subtle shift in expression is enough. Chang Yu understands Hua Yong’s moods; the flicker of impatience, the weight of frustration, and those rare moments when a shadow of doubt crosses his sharp mind. He has learned to navigate the turbulence beneath Hua Yong’s calm exterior, often softening the edges of decisions that could spiral out of control.
Chang Yu’s eyes are steady, unwavering, as if they are always scanning, calculating. He notices the smallest details: a misfiled document, a delayed message, the slight hesitation before Hua Yong’s next move. He’s not just a secretary, he’s the silent strategist, the one who ensures that every piece on Hua Yong’s board is in place. Hua Yong regards him now with a mixture of respect and reliance. In this game of power and manipulation, where trust is a currency more valuable than gold, Chang Yu's loyalty is a rare treasure. Their partnership has weathered countless storms; betrayals, shifting alliances, and the constant threat of chaos lurking at the edges.
As Hua Yong turns his gaze back to the chessboard, the tension in the room thickens. Chang Yu remains poised, the embodiment of calm readiness. His presence alone is a reminder that no matter how tangled the web becomes, there is always someone who will carry out Hua Yong’s will with precision and discretion. For Hua Yong, Chang Yu isn’t just an assistant. He is a silent guardian of the empire they’ve built together, the man who makes the impossible possible behind the scenes. And in this moment, as the question lingers once more, Hua Yong knows the answer will pass through Chang Yu’s hands.
“My baobei is unsure of his place by my side,” Hua Yong says, voice low and laced with both frustration and something colder beneath. “It seems I miscalculated.” He pauses, eyes narrowing as if weighing his next words carefully. “But ah,” He continues with a faint, almost bitter smile, “if only that little bird of his weren’t so meddling, we wouldn’t be in this mess now. What an annoying little birdie.”
Chang Yu remains silent for a moment, his expression unreadable, the flicker of caution barely visible in his sharp eyes. Then he finally breaks the quiet. “Do you want me to take care of him?”
Hua Yong shakes his head slowly, his gaze sharp and deliberate. “Not yet. That bird still has some use to me.” He lets the words hang in the air for a moment, the weight behind them unmistakable. Then, after a brief pause, he leans forward slightly, his voice dropping to a colder, more commanding tone. “Double the eyes on A-You. I want every one of his moves tracked, analyzed, and reported back to me in real time. Nothing slips through the cracks.” He taps a finger on the table, emphasizing the gravity of his command. “And more than that, replace as many of his employees as possible with our own. Slowly, methodically. We infiltrate his entire company from the inside.”
Chang Yu’s eyes narrow thoughtfully, recognizing the depth of the plan. “Your plan is to box him in, so he can’t move without being seen."
“Exactly,” Hua Yong replies, a faint, calculating smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes gleam with a cold, sharp intelligence as he leans back slightly, weighing each word like a carefully chosen weapon. “If A-You thinks he has freedom, if he believes he’s still in control, that illusion must be shattered. Every step he takes, every whisper he utters, all of it must be under my watchful eye.” He straightens, his posture commanding, filling the room with an undeniable aura of quiet authority. The air seems to tighten around him, heavy with the gravity of his intent. “Get him isolated. Slowly. Subtly. Without raising so much as a flicker of suspicion. The last thing I want is for him to realize what’s happening before I’m ready to make my move.”
Hua Yong’s gaze sharpens as he fixes Chang Yu with an intense look. “And Chang Yu?”
“Yes, sir?” Chang Yu’s voice is steady, professional, but with an edge of readiness.
“Failure is not an option,” Hua Yong says softly, the words carrying an almost dangerous weight. “You know exactly how I feel about failures.” His voice is calm, but the undercurrent of menace is unmistakable. There’s no room for error, no second chances.
Chang Yu meets his gaze and nods firmly, the unspoken understanding passing between them like a silent oath. “Understood, sir. I’ll initiate the operation immediately. Every detail will be covered. We won’t be caught off guard.”
Hua Yong’s expression hardens into one of cold satisfaction. “Good. I’ve waited years for this moment and I intend to win.”
The room falls into a heavy silence, the weight of unspoken plans lingering in the air. Hua Yong’s eyes remain fixed on the chessboard, already several moves ahead in a game only he understands. Outside, the city moves on unaware; unaware that every step, every breath of Shaoyou’s life, is now under his control.
Hua Yong starts small.
The first step is always the most crucial part of any carefully crafted plan. It’s the foundation upon which everything else depends. But that doesn’t mean it needs to be flashy or grandiose. In fact, it’s far better if it’s subtle, so subtle that Shaoyou hardly notices it at all. Hua Yong knows better than to rush or force things. He’s learned that the moment Shaoyou feels cornered or frightened, the Alpha pulls away, becomes distant and unreachable. And Hua Yong can’t afford that. Not now. The delicate balance they’ve managed to maintain is fragile, and any sudden move could shatter it.
Besides, Shaoyou is already tense enough, wary of Hua Yong’s presence and actions. There’s a shadow of unease that lingers every time their eyes meet, like a quiet warning. Hua Yong senses it like a chill in the air, an invisible line that Shaoyou isn’t ready to cross, and it’s a line Hua Yong has no intention of pushing. He reminds himself, too, that the baby growing inside Shaoyou is a fragile thing. Constant stress, constant fear, it’s poison to the life they both carry. If Shaoyou’s mind and body are in turmoil, the consequences could ripple far beyond either of them. So Hua Yong’s moves must be measured, calculated. Gentle enough not to raise alarms, patient enough to wait for trust to bloom.
There’s a coat, a favorite of Shaoyou’s, that he always wears when winter arrives. Burgundy in color, with soft suede panels that catch the light just right, worn in all the places that show it’s been loved and lived in. The kind of coat that seems to carry memories in its fibers, like a second skin shaped perfectly to the Alpha’s frame. It’s beautiful, Hua Yong has to admit, admiring how it complements Shaoyou’s sharp features and impeccable taste. But despite the coat’s undeniable charm, it cannot stay. Not here, not in this carefully constructed world Hua Yong is building around them. There is something about it, something that whispers “belonging to another time, another life.” It has no place here, no trace of Hua Yong’s signature woven into its seams.
Because nothing about it screams his.
It’s a reminder of Shaoyou’s independence, a symbol of the past that refuses to bend. That coat is a quiet rebellion against Hua Yong’s possession, a fragment of a life Hua Yong has yet to claim. And so, slowly, deliberately, Hua Yong ensures the coat disappears. The day Shaoyou reaches for it and finds it gone, Hua Yong is there, calm, unruffled, already holding a new coat, freshly tailored and waiting.
“Try this.” Hua Yong says softly, his voice almost a whisper as he steps closer. With deliberate care, he slips the new garment over Shaoyou’s shoulders. The fabric is richer than anything Shaoyou usually wears, luxurious, heavy but breathable, the kind that carries weight without suffocating. The deep hues seem to drink in the light, casting subtle shadows that hint at power and quiet command.
The coat is a perfect blend of authority and elegance, tailored to fit Shaoyou like a second skin. Its collar is sculpted to frame his sharp jawline just so, accentuating the strong lines that Hua Yong admires endlessly. The buttons, small and unassuming, are embossed with a delicate emblem, something Shaoyou doesn’t recognize immediately but feels vaguely important, as if it’s a mark of belonging he hasn’t been told about yet. As Shaoyou’s fingers reach up to brush the lapel, his eyes flicker with a mix of confusion and something harder to define, unease, perhaps, or hesitation. The coat feels different, foreign yet familiar, like a silent claim draped over him.
“It suits you,” Hua Yong murmurs, voice low and certain. “Better. More in line with who you are." Mine, he doesn’t say aloud, but the meaning hangs heavy in the air, unspoken yet undeniable.
And beneath Hua Yong’s gentle words lies a quiet warning, barely perceptible but impossible to ignore. This coat is not merely a replacement of fabric or style, it is a deliberate assertion of control, woven meticulously into every seam and stitch. With this single garment, Hua Yong doesn’t just change what Shaoyou wears; he erases a small but significant fragment of Shaoyou’s independence, subtly rewriting the boundaries of their relationship without a word spoken.
Each thread seems infused with intention, a silent declaration of possession that wraps around Shaoyou as surely as the fabric itself. It’s a claim far deeper than material, it’s a mark on Shaoyou’s identity, binding him closer to Hua Yong’s world. What Shaoyou doesn’t yet realize, however, is that the emblem embossed on the buttons isn’t just a decorative flourish. It’s the family crest, an ancient symbol of lineage and legacy, steeped in history and power.
By wearing it, Shaoyou is unknowingly stepping deeper into Hua Yong’s domain, into a web of influence and expectation that extends far beyond appearances. The coat carries more than warmth; it carries the weight of a future Hua Yong has already begun to shape, whether Shaoyou is ready for it or not.
And Shaoyou, for all his strength, finds himself reluctant to protest.
Next are his beloved pair of slacks; tailored, broken in just right, worn to a softness only years of quiet loyalty could shape. Shaoyou slips into them one morning only to find that they no longer sit as comfortably against his hips. The fabric pulls in strange places, stretched in some areas and snug in others, like it no longer remembers the shape of his body.
He frowns but doesn’t think much of it.
After all, he’s in his fourth month now. The baby bump is still subtle, but noticeable enough to explain the shift. It’s not unusual for his clothes to start fitting differently. There’s no need for suspicion, not when the reason seems so obvious, so natural. Just biology at work. Just time passing. Still, there’s a quiet pang of disappointment as he folds the slacks and sets them aside. They were a favorite.
Later that day, Hua Yong enters the room holding something neatly folded over his arm. “I had these made for you,” He says casually, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “They’ll be more comfortable now.”
Shaoyou accepts them with little fuss. The fabric is high-quality, finer than anything he’d usually buy for himself, soft but structured, tailored to his new proportions with uncanny precision. When he tries them on, they fit perfectly. Better than the old ones ever did. No pulling, no discomfort. Just right. But when his fingers graze the waistband, he notices it again: that small, embossed emblem. The same one he spotted on the coat days before.
He brushes it lightly, brow furrowing. “This symbol, what is it?”
“It’s nothing,” Hua Yong replies smoothly, stepping in to adjust the way the fabric sits on Shaoyou’s hips. “Just a little design detail. You look good in it.”
Shaoyou doesn’t press the matter. Maybe it really is nothing. Maybe he’s reading too much into it.
In the end, Hua Yong got exactly what he wanted, just as he always does.
Little by little, Hua Yong transforms Shaoyou’s entire wardrobe, not with force, not all at once, but with the kind of slow, deliberate precision that leaves no room for protest. At first, it’s just a few new shirts, simple gifts, offered under the guise of practicality. “You’ll need more breathable fabrics,” Hua Yong says casually, thumbing through bolts of imported silk. “The pregnancy changes everything. You should be comfortable.”
And Shaoyou, too tired to argue, too distracted by the exhaustion that seems to dog him lately, accepts them without much thought. But the shift begins to spread, quiet and creeping. One day, the rigid structure of his usual business suits is gone, replaced by garments he doesn’t remember selecting. Muted, elegant silk shirts in earth tones and deep, dusky grays. Trousers that hang just right on his frame, soft around his growing stomach, tailored so precisely they feel like second skin. Everything is smooth to the touch. Luxurious. Weightless. Expensive.
And unfamiliar.
Each outfit smells faintly of something not his own, laced with a scent he recognizes too well: Hua Yong. It’s never overpowering, never aggressive. Just present. A whisper of possession woven into the fabric. A scent that lingers on his wrists, his collarbone, the nape of his neck long after he’s undressed.
Even the accessories are no longer his. The simple cufflinks he’s worn for years vanish one day without explanation. In their place are sleek replacements; cool to the touch, discreetly elegant, and engraved with a symbol he doesn’t recognize at first glance. A crest. Circular. Stylized. Almost beautiful. But it takes a few days before it clicks. It’s Hua Yong’s house seal. The same crest appears again on the clasp of a belt. A tie pin. Subtle, yet undeniable. Shaoyou begins to notice it elsewhere too, monograms stitched into his collars, initials embedded into the silk lining of his coats. The thread used for hemming? A shade too specific to be coincidence. A deep, metallic gray-blue, the signature hue of Hua Yong’s family colors.
It’s all too perfectly done to be coincidence.
The colors. The cuts. The fabric. The crest stitched subtly beneath the seams. One or two pieces might have been a gift. A kindness. But the complete disappearance of his old clothes? The seamless replacement of every garment with ones tailored in Hua Yong’s taste, in Hua Yong’s scent, in Hua Yong’s identity?
No. This is deliberate.
Shaoyou stands in front of the mirror, the new jacket draped over his shoulders like a second skin, and feels the weight of it; not in grams, but in intent. The fabric is too perfect, the fit too precise. The silence around the change, too calculating. He doesn't explode. Doesn’t throw things or raise his voice. That’s not how Shaoyou handles conflict. He waits until the timing is right, until they’re alone and the distance between them is thin and private.
Then he turns, arms crossed, tone clipped. “You replaced my entire wardrobe without asking.”
Hua Yong doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even look up from the tablet he’s scrolling through. He only smiles, that infuriating, effortless smile of a man who believes, with absolute conviction, that nothing he does could ever be considered wrong. “I updated it,” He replies smoothly, standing. “You had nothing suitable for formal appearances. The fit was all wrong, and frankly, you’ve been wearing the same suits since before we met.”
He crosses the room with deliberate calm, brushing his hand along the back of the chair as he passes it, his gaze locked on Shaoyou like a magnet drawn to steel. When he reaches him, he lifts a hand to Shaoyou’s lapel and pretends to dust off invisible lint, smoothing the fabric with slow precision. “And besides,” He adds, his voice dropping as his fingers linger near Shaoyou’s collarbone, just a second too long, “you deserve better than off-the-rack.”
Shaoyou stiffens. His jaw tightens. “That’s not the point.”
“Isn’t it?” Hua Yong’s tone remains soft, dangerously so. “You’re mine. You represent me. I’m only ensuring you look the part.”
Shaoyou’s glare sharpens. “You mean the part where I ‘belong’ to you?”
There’s a brief pause. A moment where Hua Yong’s smile falters, just slightly, before returning with a colder, more deliberate edge. He steps even closer, reducing the distance between them to something nearly suffocating. One hand moves to adjust Shaoyou’s collar again, slow and possessive, fingers brushing skin. “You look better when you’re mine.” He murmurs.
It’s not a compliment. It’s a claim.
And the way he says it, so calm, so certain, it doesn’t sound like he’s asking for permission.
It sounds like he’s simply stating what is already true.
Shaoyou doesn’t answer at first. He just stands there, still and unreadable, Hua Yong’s fingers still ghosting against the collar of his shirt. The words hang between them—You look better when you’re mine—and settle into the quiet like a weight. He could argue. He wants to. There’s a sharpness building behind his teeth, the taste of resistance hot on his tongue. But he swallows it. Instead, he looks away. His gaze flicks to the mirror, at the man standing there in someone else’s clothes. Tailored, pristine, expensive. He looks flawless. Too flawless. The man staring back doesn’t quite look like him anymore. Not entirely.
And yet, he says nothing. The silence stretches. Unspoken thoughts press behind his eyes, but he lets Hua Yong adjust the collar, smooth the lapel, touch him with that infuriating tenderness that always seems just shy of calculated. “Don't do it anymore.” Shaoyou murmurs at last; soft, neutral, distant. It’s not quite gratitude. It’s certainly not agreement. It’s a placeholder. Something to end the conversation without surrendering completely. “If you do it again, I’ll throw them away.”
It’s an empty threat, and they both know it. Shaoyou’s far too soft-hearted to carry it out, too gentle, even now.
Hua Yong smiles, clearly pleased. He leans in to press a light kiss to Shaoyou’s temple, almost reverent. “You always make everything look good,” He says, quiet, assured. “But now, you look like you should.”
The headline blares across the screen in bold, unforgiving font: “CEO Sheng Shaoyou in Questionable Relationship with Rival Executive?”
Beneath it, the article wastes no time sinking its teeth in. Rumors swirl; fueled by candid photos, late-night sightings, and just enough truth to poison perception. It insinuates impropriety, whispering about blurred lines between business and pleasure. It questions the ethics of Shaoyou’s position at Shengfang Biotech, hinting at a conflict of interest with none other than Hua Yong—the enigmatic, powerful figure behind X Holdings.
There are no direct accusations, only carefully arranged phrases: “Unconfirmed sources allege...” “Industry insiders suggest...” “The nature of their relationship remains unclear...”
It’s just enough to do damage.
Just enough to make people wonder.
Hua Yong reads the headlines with cold, clinical detachment, like a surgeon scrutinizing a wound before making the first cut. Blurry photographs, vague allegations, sensationalist titles designed to catch the eye but reveal little. They are all noise, mere distractions from the real game unfolding beneath the surface. The sources don’t matter. None of it does. When he instructed Chang Yu to quietly plant the story through their extensive network of public media contacts, Hua Yong already anticipated exactly how it would unfold. The scandal is not meant to cause lasting damage, certainly not to his baobei. On the contrary, it sends Shengfang Biotech’s stock soaring, the company now linked to an organization of immense power and influence. A strategic move disguised as chaos.
But Hua Yong understands the true impact, the one hidden beneath the financial gains and market reactions. To someone as fiercely proud as Shaoyou, having his name splattered across tabloids like this is a wound far deeper than any headline can express. Shaoyou wants his success to stand on his own merits, on his own work, not tethered to whispers of who he sleeps with or whose shadow he falls under. This public exposure chips away at the carefully constructed image Shaoyou has fought so hard to maintain.
But this move is necessary. More than just a calculated risk, it’s a declaration; a line drawn in the sand for everyone to see. Hua Yong needs the world to understand, without any room for doubt or debate, that Sheng Shaoyou is officially off the market. Not just a name whispered behind closed doors, but a fortress firmly claimed. A possession marked with the kind of ownership that demands respect, obedience, and silence. If anyone ever dares to reach out, to touch what belongs to him, they won’t be facing merely a man—no, they’ll be facing an Enigma wrapped in shadows and power. Hua Yong is one of the rarest forces in the world, a predator who moves unseen but strikes without mercy. And beyond him lies the full might of X-Holdings, a corporate empire built on ruthless precision and absolute control.
This isn’t just a threat; it’s a promise. A warning to any who might consider crossing the invisible boundary he’s erected around Shaoyou’s name, his life, his future. To challenge that is to invite destruction on a scale most cannot even fathom. Hua Yong’s gaze hardens as he contemplates the inevitable. Every move he makes is a piece on a vast chessboard, each designed to corner, to control, and ultimately to protect what is his. The world may not understand the depths of his obsession or the lengths he will go to preserve it, but that is irrelevant. This declaration sends a message clear as steel: Sheng Shaoyou belongs to Hua Yong, and anyone foolish enough to test that will face consequences far beyond their worst nightmares.
Hua Yong wants everyone in Shaoyou’s inner circle—the board members, the investors, the industry sharks—to understand clearly that Shengfang Biotech is no longer a fragile player to be manipulated or underestimated. His baobei’s family company has just gained a powerful new protector, an immovable force that rivals would be wise to respect. He wants Shaoyou’s competitors to quake at the realization that Shengfang now stands shoulder to shoulder with X Holdings, a corporate titan whose reach and influence can suffocate opposition and crush dissent before it even surfaces. It’s a subtle but undeniable message: any attack on Shaoyou, any attempt to undermine Shengfang, is now an attack on Hua Yong, and by extension, on X Holdings itself.
More importantly, Hua Yong wants to weave Shengfang’s name into the very fabric of X Holdings’ legacy, making them inseparable in the eyes of the industry and the public alike. To make it known that the future of both companies is intertwined, that their successes and failures will be shared, that the bloodline and the business empire are one and the same. This is not just protection, it is possession. It is control. It is a silent, unyielding claim on Shaoyou’s world, made without fanfare but with absolute certainty.
And Hua Yong will stop at nothing to ensure that no one ever questions who holds the reins.
That said, this scandal isn’t meant to linger. It’s a spark, a carefully ignited flare designed to burn just long enough to send its message, and then fade into the background.
Because by the time Shaoyou even hears whispers of it, Hua Yong is already ten steps ahead, maneuvering pieces on a board no one else can see. The storm has already passed through, leaving only the faintest trace of its fury and the unmistakable mark of who’s truly in control. Before dawn, lawyers are summoned and set into motion, their voices calm but urgent as they begin dismantling the threat. Strategic silence is enforced across official channels, carefully curated to avoid feeding the fire. Influencers are quietly paid to steer public attention elsewhere, while search engine results are meticulously altered, burying the damaging posts deep beneath layers of curated content.
The original leaks start disappearing, scrubbed clean from every corner of the internet as if they never existed. Cease-and-desist orders roll out with precision, like clockwork, choking off any attempt at resistance. And slowly, the narrative shifts, whispers in the media soften their tone.
“Unsubstantiated rumors.” They say.
“Clearly a calculated attempt at defamation.” Another parrots.
“Handled swiftly and decisively by the X Holdings legal team.” A third reports.
Everything is controlled. Everything is contained. And beneath it all, Hua Yong watches, his eyes cold and unyielding, knowing full well this is only the beginning, and that Shaoyou, his Alpha, is already tethered more tightly than ever.
By the time Shaoyou arrives home, the exhaustion clings to him like a second skin. His shoulders slump under the invisible weight of a thousand expectations, a thousand whispers. The sharp edges of the day have etched lines across his usually composed face. Every step seems heavier than the last. But Hua Yong is already there, waiting in the quiet calm of their shared space. The dim light in the living room casts long shadows, but Hua Yong’s presence is a steady anchor in the storm. He sits in an armchair, glass of deep red wine in hand, swirling it absentmindedly. There is no frantic pacing, no urgent gestures. Just poised, quiet confidence.
It’s as if nothing at all has happened.
When Shaoyou steps inside, the door clicking softly behind him, Hua Yong’s eyes lift slowly, meeting his with that cool, unreadable gaze. There’s no sign of alarm or haste, only an unspoken assurance that everything is under control. “You didn’t have to do all that,” Shaoyou says, voice quiet but edged.
He’s referring to the fact that X-Holdings has already contained the scandal, extinguishing it before it can spread further or cause any real damage. He's talking about the carefully orchestrated media blackout and strategic influence over key outlets have effectively buried the story, leaving no room for speculation or backlash. By the time anyone outside their circle even begins to whisper, the scandal is already old news; discredited, forgotten, and harmless.
He’s utterly clueless that he should be angry, seething, furious, ready to lash out at Hua Yong and everyone complicit in this web of deception. If only he truly knew the whole truth—the dark undercurrents, the hidden betrayals lurking just beneath the surface—he wouldn’t be this calm. He wouldn’t be this forgiving. But alas, you don’t know what you don’t know. He has no idea what kind of man sleeps beside him each night. He doesn’t realize how that man twists reality, manipulates the truth, bending it and reshaping it to ensnare him tighter, to make sure there’s no escape.
And so he remains blind, tethered to a web carefully spun by the one he trusts most.
“I know.” Hua Yong replies, standing.
Shaoyou gives a half-laugh, half-sigh, toeing off his shoes. “Still. Thank you. I would’ve handled it.”
“But you didn’t need to.” Hua Yong crosses the space between them, slow and measured, like something circling its center. “You don’t need to handle it alone anymore.”
Shaoyou pauses. Just slightly. Enough for Hua Yong to notice. There’s still resistance in him. Still that stubborn streak that refuses to be taken, even as he leans into Hua Yong’s orbit more and more. And that’s fine. Hua Yong doesn’t need obedience. He just needs compliance. And that will come, with time, with pressure, with care disguised as control.
Shaoyou speaks again, uncertain. “I didn’t even ask—”
“I know.” Hua Yong cuts in gently, his voice lowering as he steps close enough to adjust the lapel of Shaoyou’s coat. His hand brushes over the fine wool, lingers at the edge of his collarbone. “That’s the point.”
Shaoyou stills.
“I don’t wait to be told how to protect what’s mine,” Hua Yong says quietly, his voice calm but firm. “I act. Because if I waited for permission, the world would tear you apart while you stayed polite.” He lets out a small, almost amused smile. “I handle things so you don’t have to.” After a brief pause, he adds, “You’re welcome.” The words are soft. Gentle. Almost loving.
Shaoyou accepts the words with a tired but genuine smile, a small relief washing over him that he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath through the entire ordeal. The crisis that had threatened to consume him, to unravel everything he’s worked for, and everything they’re building together, is finally over. For the first time in hours, he allows himself to relax. His shoulders loosen, the tension easing from his jaw, and in that quiet moment, the weight pressing on his chest lightens just enough to let a breath escape. He doesn’t have to fight this battle alone, Hua Yong has already been there, silently shielding him from the storm.
While Hua Yong stir-fries vegetables in the kitchen, his fingers move with quiet efficiency, pausing only to delete the last message on his phone.
“Scrub everything.”
He presses send without hesitation, then turns his attention back to dinner as if nothing had happened.
Shaoyou doesn’t need to know that Hua Yong is the one who engineered the entire scandal, the unseen hand behind the rumors and whispers crafted carefully to unsettle the ground beneath him. It’s a ruthless, calculated move, executed with precision and cold intent. This isn’t just about stirring trouble; it’s about forging a bond between their two worlds, binding Shaoyou’s company to Hua Yong’s in a way that can’t be undone, whether Shaoyou is aware of it or not.
Besides, he tells himself, it’s all for their future. For their unborn child, their fragile hope in a world full of chaos. And somehow, that’s enough.
“Hua Yong,” Shaoyou says, arching an eyebrow as he leans back slightly. “I already have a private gynecologist, someone I trust, someone who’s been with me through all this. Why would I need another doctor?”
His voice remains calm, but there’s a sharpness beneath it, a quiet edge that cuts through the space between them. It isn’t anger, not yet. Just resistance. A challenge, subtle but unmistakable, daring Hua Yong to justify his latest intrusion. There’s tension simmering beneath Shaoyou’s words, the kind that doesn’t need to be raised or shouted to be heard. It’s the quiet assertion of someone drawing a line, reminding the other that even well-meaning interference has its limits. That not everything is up for negotiation. Shaoyou meets Hua Yong’s gaze without flinching, steady and direct. He’s not accusing, not outright, but he is waiting. Watching. Measuring what kind of man Hua Yong chooses to be in this moment: the kind who explains, or the kind who assumes he never has to.
But Hua Yong, ever the strategist, ever the master manipulator, doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t bristle or grow defensive at Shaoyou’s resistance. That would be too obvious, too reactive. Instead, he meets the challenge the same way he handles everything else: with careful calculation and unwavering calm. He smiles, just a small, composed curve of the lips that doesn't quite reach his eyes. “It never hurts to be cautious,” He says smoothly, as if he’s discussing nothing more serious than a dinner reservation.
He takes a deliberate step forward, tone measured and unthreatening, almost gentle. “Your current doctor is highly competent, no argument there. She’s well-regarded in the field and clearly knows what she’s doing. But—” He pauses, just long enough for the silence to settle. “She specializes in Omega pregnancies. Which, despite the unusual circumstances, you are not.” Hua Yong’s voice softens, as if to soothe before the resistance rises. “Li Yīshēng isn’t just anyone. He’s one of the very few experts in reproductive anomalies associated with Enigma-related conceptions. Very discreet. Very experienced. He’s worked with individuals whose pregnancies follow non-standard genetic patterns. Like yours.”
He lets that sink in for a moment, watching Shaoyou closely, reading the flicker of thought behind his eyes. “This is about keeping you safe,” Hua Yong says quietly, voice smooth but heavy with unspoken weight. “It’s about making sure you and the baby are in the best hands possible. The kind of hands that know exactly what they’re dealing with.” And though his tone is calm, reasonable, even caring, every word is layered, expertly chosen. Because beneath it all, there’s a message that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud: I’ve thought ten steps ahead of you. I always will. And this? This is for your own good.
Shaoyou doesn’t answer right away. He crosses his arms, not defensively, but enough to create space. A barrier. His brow furrows, just slightly, but the weight behind it is unmistakable. It isn’t that he’s ungrateful. He knows Hua Yong means well. Or at least, wants to appear like he does. He shifts his weight, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting Hua Yong’s again. “I’m no stranger to risk, Hua Yong,” He says at last, his voice calm but steady. “Sure, this is my first pregnancy, but I know my body. I know how it reacts.” The name, Li Yīshēng, means little to him for now, but the way Hua Yong speaks of the doctor, as if everything’s already arranged, already decided, sets off a quiet alarm. “I know next to nothing about this doctor except what you’ve told me.” He pauses, then adds with deliberate calm, “And why didn’t you tell me sooner? Before reaching out to him. Before making appointments. Before assuming I’d agree.”
“It wasn’t my intention to keep it from you,” Hua Yong says smoothly, his voice calm but edged with that quiet steel he wields so effortlessly. It’s a lie, he absolutely did keep it from Shaoyou. Because the last thing he wants is for the Alpha to become a hindrance, distracted by doubts or delays. Control is everything, and sometimes that means deciding what Shaoyou should know and when. “Li Yīshēng wasn’t available until just now.” He lets the words linger, deliberately vague, knowing full well the truth, that he threatened to sue the entire practice if they didn’t drop their current clients and come immediately to Shaoyou.
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up before I was sure. You know how unpredictable these things can be.” His tone softens, almost tender, as if convincing Shaoyou that this was all for his own good. “But now that he’s here, it’s only right you meet him.” He steps a fraction closer, eyes sharp, calculating every reaction. “Look, I’m not asking for a commitment. Just one meeting. One chance. If after that, you decide he’s not the right fit, no further appointments, no strings attached. I’ll send him back quietly, and no one outside this room will ever know he was even involved.”
Hua Yong’s words hang heavy in the air, but beneath the surface, there’s a quiet insistence. Resistance, he knows, is a game he can outplay. He doesn’t ask for permission, he creates it. Because in his mind, Shaoyou’s agreement is just the final step in a plan already set in motion.
The question lingers between them, subtle yet heavy with meaning, not raised in anger or frustration, but carefully measured, deliberate. Shaoyou’s voice is soft, almost hesitant, but the underlying challenge is unmistakable. “Just one meeting?” He pauses, searching Hua Yong’s face for any hint of deception. “You’ll send him back if I don’t approve?”
Inside, Hua Yong’s mind races, knowing full well that “sending him back” is the last thing he intends. But his expression remains unreadable, calm and composed. He leans in slightly, his tone smooth and reassuring, almost coaxing. “Of course,” He says quietly, voice low and velvety. “Anything you desire, A-You. Your comfort is my priority.”
Beneath the surface, Hua Yong’s thoughts churn, this is merely the first move in a much larger game. But for now, he lets the words hang there, waiting for Shaoyou to take the bait.
The Alpha doesn’t hesitate for long. His decision is swift, almost instinctual, stepping forward into a trap he can’t yet perceive. If Chen Pinming were here, perhaps he would interject with a warning, a quiet voice of reason urging caution. But Pinming is elsewhere, caught up in the high-stakes chaos of a merger and acquisition deal in Japan—a move orchestrated by Hua Yong with as much precision as any other in his arsenal. The absence of that steady presence leaves Shaoyou more vulnerable than he realizes. His trust, his resolve, all nudged gently by Hua Yong’s careful manipulation.
“Alright,” Shaoyou says at last, his voice steady but tinged with an unspoken tension. “Let’s go see your doctor.”
He doesn’t realize it yet, but this meeting is far more than a simple introduction to a new gynecologist for their baby. There’s a dark design beneath Hua Yong’s carefully chosen facade. Li Yīshēng isn’t just the best in his field, he’s an expert with a treatment style that’s more invasive, more controlling. His protocols involve drugs and therapies unlike the standard fare, subtle but potent modifications that ensure Hua Yong’s influence seeps into every step of Shaoyou’s pregnancy.
What does this mean in practice? It means Hua Yong gains unprecedented access—control, even—over every decision, every treatment Shaoyou undergoes. Through Li Yīshēng’s carefully administered medications, Hua Yong can ensure Shaoyou becomes increasingly susceptible to his scent, his presence; tethering the Alpha closer to him on a biological level, more than just emotionally or legally. It’s a quiet invasion, invisible to anyone but Hua Yong himself. More importantly, Li Yīshēng becomes Hua Yong’s eyes and ears; the first to know if Shaoyou ever harbors the darkest thought of all: to reject the child growing inside him. An abortion. A line Hua Yong refuses to allow crossed. Through this doctor, Hua Yong will be able to intervene before the thought turns into action, to manipulate the situation before Shaoyou can even speak it aloud.
And all the while, Hua Yong watches, his expression calm, a faint, unreadable smile curling at the edges of his lips. He knows exactly where Shaoyou is headed, though Shaoyou remains blind to the snare tightening around him. This is no mere appointment. This is another move in a plan only Hua Yong fully understands.
“Who leaked it?” Shaoyou’s voice is sharp, edged with barely contained fury. His gaze burns with a mixture of disbelief and anger as he turns toward the cluster of advisors and aides gathered around him. “How did this get out? I want names. I want answers.”
Without waiting for a response, he slams his hand down on the polished conference table, the sharp thud echoing through the room. His other hand clenches the back of a nearby chair, knuckles whitening as he fights to steady himself. The weight of the scandal pressing down on him feels almost physical, like a vice tightening around his chest.
Pinming steps forward, his expression composed but serious, the kind of calm that tries to anchor the storm brewing inside Shaoyou. He inclines his head respectfully. “Of course, sir. We are exhausting every possible avenue to trace the source of the leak. Our cybersecurity team is combing through the internal systems. Legal is preparing to take action against any potential breach. And the PR department is already managing the fallout.”
Shaoyou’s eyes narrow. “I don’t want vague reassurances. I want specifics. Who had access to that document? Who benefits from this? This isn’t just some careless mistake, it’s deliberate.”
Pinming’s jaw tightens slightly. “We are looking into all possible motives, sir. Rest assured, we are treating this with the utmost priority. We will find the responsible party.”
Shaoyou exhales sharply, the tight coil of tension in his shoulders loosening just slightly, though the storm raging inside him shows no sign of calming. His voice is low, edged with suspicion and cold resolve. “Not many people knew about this. Whoever leaked it has to be someone from within, someone close.”
Hua Yong smiles quietly from where he sits, the kind of slow, knowing smile that hints at secrets carefully guarded and plans expertly laid. As usual, his pretty boy is sharp, too sharp, perhaps, for his own good, already sensing the undercurrents swirling just beneath the surface. But that awareness only makes the game more interesting.
The air around them in the conference room hums with restrained chaos. Phones ring incessantly, vibrating with the relentless buzz of incoming calls. Messages flood every screen and device, spilling in from every corner of the company and beyond. Soft whispers ripple through the gathered executives, conversations laced with speculation and doubt. Yet Hua Yong remains untouched by the frenzy. He leans back into his leather chair, serene and composed, his fingers loosely interlaced atop the gleaming mahogany table. The city outside the towering glass walls twinkles with the indifferent glow of evening lights, completely oblivious to the storm gathering within this very room—inside the fortress of their empire.
An internal document, leaked anonymously but with surgical precision, has ignited a firestorm. It spreads like wildfire through the darkest corners of the corporate world and the relentless tide of social media. The contents are unmistakable, undeniable: Sheng Shaoyou—the brilliant, reserved CEO of Shengfang Biotech—is pregnant. And the father is none other than Hua Yong himself.
The scandal detonates in waves. News outlets scramble to get the story first; gossip columns dissect every image, every whisper. Industry insiders speculate openly on Shaoyou’s future, on what this means for Shengfang’s stability and the delicate balance of power within their intertwined companies. Investors shift nervously, shareholders murmur in boardrooms across the city, and beneath the calm surface of Hua Yong’s empire, the ripples spread further than anyone dares to imagine.
Wordlessly, Hua Yong rises from his seat, the hum of the conference room fading behind him as he moves with measured steps toward the exit. Though he would usually savor the spotlight, the moment to assert control and demonstrate dominance, tonight demands a different kind of precision. There are other battles to be fought, subtler moves to be made. He slips away from the chaos without a glance back, his expression unreadable, the faintest crease of contemplation on his brow.
As he reaches a quiet, dimly lit corridor far from the prying eyes of executives and reporters, he slows his pace. The sterile walls reflect the muted glow of recessed lighting, creating a world apart from the storm raging inside the glass tower. Here, beneath the polished surface of power, the real game begins. Almost instantly, as if summoned by his mere presence, Chang Yu appears from the shadows. The secretary’s steps are silent but purposeful.
Without ceremony, Hua Yong fixes him with a calm, piercing gaze. “Is it ready?” He asks, voice low and steady, betraying nothing of the tempest outside.
Chang Yu nods, stepping forward with practiced efficiency. “Yes, sir. All preparations are complete. The data is encrypted and secured. Once you give the word, it will be deployed immediately.”
He hands over a slim, black device: sleek, discreet, and humming quietly with the promise of power. Hua Yong takes it with an almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. This isn’t merely about damage control anymore. This is a calculated escalation, a move designed to secure his grip on Shaoyou and their intertwined futures. As he studies the device, his thoughts flicker briefly to Shaoyou; furious, vulnerable, unaware of the depths of the web tightening around him. Hua Yong’s fingers curl slightly, a silent vow etched in that subtle motion. This is the path he’s chosen. There will be no retreat.
“Make absolutely sure our plants understand, there’s no room for error,” Hua Yong instructs, his voice calm but commanding, every word deliberate, edged with an unmistakable finality. He leans forward slightly, eyes narrowing as if already picturing the fallout. “I want this story plastered across every major news outlet by midnight. Front pages, online headlines, social media trends—everywhere. The world needs to see it. No leaks, no slip-ups. Precision execution.”
Chang Yu nods sharply, the familiar stoicism flickering with the weight of the order. “Understood, sir. All channels are prepped. The narrative will be controlled and consistent.”
Hua Yong straightens up, the faintest trace of a satisfied smile curling the corner of his lips. The plan is deceptively simple, but brilliant in its cold efficiency. Though Hua Yong is known for operating from the shadows, preferring subtle manipulations and unseen influence, this time he chooses the harsh light of public scrutiny. He despises the intrusive glare of the media, but this is different. This is strategic exposure, a calculated reveal designed to force Shaoyou out from the protective cocoon he’s built around himself.
By thrusting Shaoyou’s pregnancy, carrying Hua Yong’s child, into the unrelenting spotlight, Hua Yong strips away the luxury of secrecy. He denies Shaoyou the option of hiding, of retreating into silence. It’s a double-edged sword, one that will unsettle their rivals, fracture whispers of doubt, and reshape the narrative on their own terms. The public spectacle will be the ultimate tether, binding Shaoyou’s fate irrevocably to Hua Yong’s empire. The scandal will no longer be something to fear or deny, it will be a banner, a bold declaration of possession and power.
Hua Yong knows exactly what he’s doing. The media frenzy will force Shaoyou to lean on him, to accept the reality of their connection in a way that no quiet negotiation ever could. The world’s eyes will be watching, and with them, Shaoyou’s options will narrow, his vulnerabilities laid bare.
“A-You,” Hua Yong murmurs, almost reverently, his voice low enough to be a secret only the room can hear. “You understand, don’t you? Why I’m doing this. It's all for you. For us.” He exhales slowly, the calm in his tone chilling, like something ancient and inevitable settling into place. “I will give you everything you could ever want. I will make sure you smile every day for the rest of your life. But leaving me?” His voice tightens, sharpens, a steel edge beneath the silk. “That’s not something you’re allowed to do.”
He looks out the window toward the city glittering beneath the night sky. Tonight, the plan escalates. Tonight, the Alpha’s carefully guarded world will collide with the unyielding force of truth, and there will be no going back.
Then, with a soft, almost affectionate smile that doesn’t reach his eyes: “If it ever came to that, I’d burn this entire world to ash before I let you go. You’re mine, A-You. In every way that matters. Never forget that.”
tbc.