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Sheng Shaoyou woke up to find Hua Yong’s arm draped over his waist and his face buried in the crook of his neck. The warmth of him was comforting, way too comforting.
Slowly, Shaoyou turned around to face him, moving just enough not to wake the enigma still sleeping soundly beside him.
Hua Yong looked peaceful in sleep, lashes long and dark where they rested against his pink cheeks. His lips, soft and naturally red, were parted slightly, his breath warm against Shaoyou’s skin. There was a flush on his face, and the imprint of a pillow crease along his cheek that made him look almost boyish.
Shaoyou stared for longer than he intended, his heart softening in a way he would never admit to anyone. If he didn’t know Hua Yong was trouble wrapped in silk, he might’ve believed he really was an angel.
Then, it hit him, that scent.
Ghost orchid. Cool, clean, a little intoxicating like dew on marble, or the sweetness of something that blooms at night when no one’s looking. It wasn’t too cloying, but it stuck, delicate and rare, threading through the air until it wrapped around Shaoyou completely.
He’d had a hard time accepting it at first. The reality that Hua Yong wasn’t an omega, but an enigma. The scent Shaoyou had gotten used to for months hadn’t been real, and discovering that had been… a lot. But now? He’d be lying if he said he didn’t love Hua Yong’s true scent. Actually, forget love. He was addicted to it. He could drown in it. But he’d never say that out loud; someone would have to drag it out of him over his dead body.
Unfortunately, having Hua Yong’s scent so close—and so strong—was stirring the wrong kind of reaction in him. The kind that made him groan and bury his face in the pillow. It was ridiculous how easily Hua Yong could make his body respond, even when he was half-asleep.
“Calm down,” Shaoyou muttered to himself, exhaling slowly through his nose. He tried to sit up, to get out of bed before he embarrassed himself any further but a hand caught his wrist.
In the next heartbeat, Shaoyou was flat on his back with Hua Yong above him, all sleepy smiles and messy hair.
“Hua—mmph!”
Hua Yong kissed him, their mouths sliding together in a sound that made Shaoyou’s brain short-circuit. He hated how easily Hua Yong could disarm him, how one kiss could undo every wall he’d built.
He pushed at Hua Yong’s chest, a little too roughly than intended. The enigma stumbled back a bit, blinking at him with confusion.
“What are you doing?” Shaoyou snapped, sitting upright and glaring, though the tips of his ears were red.
Hua Yong’s only response was a lazy smile as he crawled closer again, eyes gleaming. “Kissing Mr. Sheng good morning,” he replied, voice still husky with sleep.
Shaoyou’s glare faltered for half a second. He could feel his defenses crumbling, and that irritated him more than anything. He pushed Hua Yong away again, though less forcefully this time.
“Get away from me, you pervert,” he grumbled, throwing the blanket off himself and standing up. “You’re too close. Your scent’s too strong.”
Hua Yong would usually have a quick comeback, something teasing or smug that would make Shaoyou’s blood boil and his composure crumble in equal measure. But this time there was nothing.
When Shaoyou turned back to look at him, he found Hua Yong still sitting on the bed, his legs folded beneath him, hands resting on his knees. He was fidgeting with his fingers, his head bowed just slightly, eyes cast down. The sight made Shaoyou’s heart clench.
Then Hua Yong looked up.
Those dark, soft eyes met his, uncertain and searching. “Mr. Sheng doesn’t like it?” he asked, his voice small in a way that didn’t sound like the Hua Yong he knew.
It hit Shaoyou right in the gut, feeling a pang of guilt. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first. Hua Yong was pouting, lips pressed together like he was trying not to show he was hurt.
Shaoyou, completely stupid and entirely too prideful for his own good, crossed his arms and forced the words out. “Do you still have to ask?”
The instant he said it, he regretted it. But pride was a powerful thing, and once Shaoyou’s mouth started running, it rarely stopped in time.
Hua Yong’s lips jutted out more, his expression softening into something heartbreakingly sad. His shoulders slumped just slightly.
Shaoyou wanted to take it back, to reach out and say something, anything, to fix it, but his damned alpha ego got in the way. Instead, he huffed and muttered, “Don’t go around flaunting your scent so early in the morning. It’s… annoying.”
Hua Yong blinked, clearly taken aback. His brows furrowed, and then his voice came out even smaller than before. “Would Mr. Sheng like it better if I smelled like an omega?”
That one hit harder than Shaoyou expected. He felt like air had been knocked out of his lungs.
He looked away quickly, jaw tight, pretending to be preoccupied with his phone on the nightstand. He didn’t mean for it to come to this, for his stupid words to make Hua Yong question that. But now the damage was done, and the longer he stayed there, the heavier the guilt felt.
“Forget it,” he muttered, avoiding Hua Yong’s gaze as he grabbed his watch from the dresser. “I’m going to shower.”
He walked out before Hua Yong could say anything else.
But when he reached the hallway, Shaoyou stopped, leaning against the wall for a moment and closing his eyes. The image of Hua Yong kneeling on the bed, small and eyes full of hurt flashed in his mind.
He hated it. Hated that he had been the one to put that look there.
With a frustrated sigh, he muttered under his breath, “Idiot,” though he wasn’t sure who he was talking to. Hua Yong or himself.
Hua Yong never knew what pain was.
Being an enigma meant his body—and to some extent, his mind—was built differently. He healed faster, felt less, endured more. He had a ridiculous tolerance for pain. Cuts, bruises, even broken bones once or twice, none of it had ever been enough to make him cry. He used to joke about it, even saying that if he ever got stabbed, he’d probably just walk it off and go about his day.
Pain, to Hua Yong, was something abstract. Something that happened to other people. Something he could only understand in theory.
Until now.
Because when those words came out of Sheng Shaoyou’s mouth, it hit him with a force he didn’t think was possible. The air left his lungs so suddenly it felt like he’d been punched. There was a sharp, crushing ache right in the middle of his chest, and for a terrifying second, he thought something might actually be wrong with him.
He pressed a hand to his heart, blinking fast as if he could physically stop the pain from spreading. It didn’t work.
It hurt.
Not physically. Not in the way he’d ever known pain before, but in a way that made breathing hard.
So this was it.
“Your scent is too strong.”
“Would Mr. Sheng like it better if I smelled like an omega?”
“Do you still have to ask?”
Shaoyou’s words played on repeat in his head.
He bit his lip hard, trying to stop the tears welling up in his eyes. He knew Shaoyou didn’t mean it. He knew the alpha was just being prideful, that his temper often spoke before his heart did. But knowing didn’t make it hurt less.
Because Hua Yong loved him. Loved him so much that even the smallest disapproval from him could crush him completely.
And now, Shaoyou thought his scent was… annoying. Overwhelming. Something to dislike.
That was all it took.
The moment Shaoyou left the room, Hua Yong stood up, got dressed quickly, and headed out without a second thought.
By the time he arrived at his company’s lab, he was running purely on instinct.
Chang Yu, who had been going over reports near the reception, looked up in surprise the moment Hua Yong stormed in. “Boss? You’re not scheduled to come in today—”
“I need the pheromone modifiers,” Hua Yong said curtly, cutting him off.
Chang Yu’s face fell immediately. “Again? You remember what happened last time. Your system can’t take another dose so soon.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You weren’t fine,” Chang Yu argued, stepping in front of him. “You had to be hospitalized last time!”
“I said I’ll be fine,” Hua Yong snapped, though his voice wavered near the end. His hands were already shaking slightly, but he shoved them into his pockets to hide it. “I just need to tone it down. Make it softer. Less… strong.”
Chang Yu’s expression softened, something like pity crossing his face. “Mr. Sheng said something again, didn’t he?”
Hua Yong froze, eyes darting away.
Chang Yu sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Boss, you can’t keep doing this to yourself every time he says something careless.”
Hua Yong swallowed, his throat dry. “Stop talking and just give it to me.”
Chang Yu’s expression faltered.
For a long moment, Chang Yu didn’t move. Then, with a resigned sigh, he turned to the cabinet and pulled out a small vial. “Please take it easy this time, boss. No double doses.”
Hua Yong snatched the vial from him and said nothing more.
As soon as he was alone in his office, Hua Yong rolled up his sleeve and stared at the little vial in his hand. The liquid shimmered under the light, a formula of his own design, one that could alter the potency of his natural scent.
It wasn’t dangerous in small doses. But he’d already used it before. Too many times.
Still, if it made Shaoyou happy, if it made him like his scent, or at least stop being annoyed by it, it was worth it.
So he didn’t hesitate.
He injected it into his wrist, the needle biting into his skin, the liquid cold as it spread through his veins.
It wasn’t supposed to hurt, but this time it did.
Hua Yong didn’t come to the office the whole day.
At first, Sheng Shaoyou told himself he didn’t care. Hua Yong could do whatever the hell he wanted. He was an adult, and Shaoyou was far too busy to babysit him. So he buried himself in meetings, signed paperwork without reading too much into it, and forced his mind to focus on anything but the buzz of his phone on his desk.
Except… every few minutes, his gaze would flicker toward it anyway.
He told himself it was just habit. That he wasn’t waiting for Hua Yong’s name to appear on the screen, wasn’t checking for messages that never came. But by the time his secretary, Chen Pinming, entered his office, Shaoyou was tapping his pen against the desk in agitation.
“Sir,” Chen began hesitantly, holding out a file, “Secretary Hua called earlier. He said he won’t be coming in today. He’s on sick leave.”
Shaoyou froze mid-motion. Sick leave? Hua Yong? The man was annoyingly energetic, practically indestructible, always following him around like a golden retriever. What could possibly make him sick?
He masked his reaction quickly, scowling to cover the small pang of worry in his chest. “Did I ask?” he snapped, signing the last page of the report with more force than necessary. “I don’t care where he is. Just get the work done.”
Chen flinched slightly, nodding. “Yes, sir.”
When he left, Shaoyou slumped back in his chair, the silence was bothering him. It was way too quiet. No humming in the background, no annoying chatter about lunch plans, no hands tugging at his tie when Hua Yong wanted attention.
For the first time in months, Hua Yong wasn’t there.
He should’ve felt relieved. He’d always complained about needing space, after all.
But as the hours dragged on, as he sat through meeting after meeting without a familiar face beside him, Shaoyou found himself checking the time too often, glancing at his phone again and again.
By the time he drove home that evening, his mind was a mess of irritation and unease.
The house was dark when he entered. No slippers by the door. No humming from the kitchen. No smell of food or the ghost orchid scent that had become part of his home.
“Hua Yong?” he called out, stepping further inside. Nothing.
He frowned, pulling out his phone and dialing. Straight to voicemail. He tried again. Then again. Then sent a text. Then another.
Still nothing.
By the fifth attempt, his fingers were shaking slightly. His pride and patience both snapped, and he did what he always promised himself he wouldn’t. He called Chang Yu.
The moment the call connected, he didn’t even say hello. “Where’s Hua Yong?”
There was a pause on the other end. “Mr. Sheng—”
“Don’t ‘Mr. Sheng’ me. Where the fuck is he?”
Chang Yu sighed, and Shaoyou could practically hear the hesitation. “He’s… resting.”
“Resting?” Shaoyou’s tone turned sharp. “Resting where?”
“He’s fine, just—”
“Where?”
The sharpness in Shaoyou’s voice left no room for evasion. After another tense pause, Chang Yu finally relented. “…X Hotel. Suite 9901. He’s recovering.”
Shaoyou’s blood ran cold. “Recovering?” he repeated. “What the fuck do you mean recovering?”
“Please,” Chang Yu said quickly, “just come here, Mr. Sheng. I’ll explain everything when you get here. But calm down, okay? He’s stable now.”
Stable. That word made his stomach drop even lower.
He didn’t remember much of the drive there. Just red lights he ignored, horns blaring behind him, and the roar of his engine as he pushed every limit on the road.
By the time he reached the hotel, his heart was pounding so hard it hurt. He barely remembered thanking the concierge before sprinting for the elevator.
When the doors opened to the suite, Chang Yu was already there waiting, looking exhausted. “You shouldn’t have rushed—”
“Where is he?” Shaoyou cut him off, breathless.
Chang Yu hesitated, then pointed toward the bedroom.
Shaoyou didn’t wait for permission. He shoved the door open and froze.
Hua Yong was lying on the bed, pale as snow. There were dark circles under his eyes, his lips dry, his brows furrowed even in sleep like he was fighting pain in his dreams. His arm was hooked to an IV drip, the slow rhythm of the monitor beside him the only sound in the room.
Shaoyou’s throat closed up.
He moved closer, sitting carefully on the chair beside the bed. His hand hovered over Hua Yong’s, afraid to touch him, terrified of what he’d feel.
When he finally found his voice, it came out hoarse. “What the hell happened?”
Chang Yu stood in the doorway, his expression tight. “He…”
“Say it,” Shaoyou snapped, turning to glare at him. “Just fucking say it.”
Chang Yu exhaled, shoulders slumping. “He overdosed on pheromone modifiers.”
For a second, Shaoyou didn’t understand. “What?”
“They’re experimental,” Chang Yu continued. “They’re not meant for long-term use, but he’s been taking them for a while, and in strong doses, to suppress his natural scent.”
Shaoyou turned back to Hua Yong. He remembered that morning. His words, hurtful and careless, the way Hua Yong’s smile fell off his face.
And now here he was, lying in a hotel suite hooked up to an IV because Shaoyou couldn’t control his tongue.
He pressed a trembling hand to his face. “Goddammit, Hua Yong…”
Chang Yu hesitated, then said, “His vitals are stable now. He just needs rest. The doctors said he’ll recover if he takes it easy for a few days.”
Shaoyou didn’t answer. He just nodded, jaw tight, his gaze never leaving Hua Yong’s face.
When Chang Yu took the hint and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him, Shaoyou finally let his guard drop.
He reached for Hua Yong’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and bowed his head until his forehead rested against their joined hands.
Hua Yong’s fingers were cold, so cold that Shaoyou flinched. He hated it. He hated that Hua Yong was lying there, pale and unmoving, when just that morning he’d been laughing and teasing him like nothing could ever touch him.
It didn’t take long before Hua Yong stirred, his eyelashes fluttering weakly as he tried to sit up. Shaoyou immediately helped him, one arm behind his back, until he was upright.
When Hua Yong’s eyes finally focused, his lips parted in surprise. “Mr. Sheng… what are you doing here?”
Shaoyou frowned, the words coming out sharper than he intended. “Hua Yong, are you trying to get yourself killed? Are you that desperate to hurt yourself?”
Hua Yong didn’t answer right away. He just sat there, small and quiet, hands fidgeting with the edge of the blanket.
“Why did you take pheromone modifiers again? You know what they do to you.”
Hua Yong finally lifted his gaze, his expression soft but sad. “Mr. Sheng said my scent was too strong. I thought… I thought you’d like me more if I smelled like an omega.”
It felt like ice water had been poured straight down Shaoyou’s spine. The morning’s conversation flashed vividly in his mind. His careless words, Hua Yong’s question, the way he’d walked away instead of fixing it.
“Did I say that?!” Shaoyou snapped, his voice breaking between anger and guilt.
Hua Yong flinched but didn’t look away. “I just wanted you to like me.”
Shaoyou was fuming at this point. “If I told you to die, would you do that too?”
“Yes.” Hua Yong said it without hesitation, eyes so sincere it made Shaoyou’s heart sink.
He couldn’t breathe. The room felt smaller, like it was closing in around them. He hadn’t realized how much power he had over Hua Yong until now. How Hua Yong would do anything he said. How much that terrified him.
Shaoyou dragged a shaky hand down his face, trying to calm his breathing. “You—” his voice softened, almost breaking, “you can’t say things like that.”
Hua Yong reached out, wanting to touch him, but Shaoyou, overwhelmed, instinctively slapped his hand away. Hua Yong froze, then slowly tucked his hand back into his lap, looking like he wanted to disappear.
Shaoyou’s heart broke a little more.
He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If you ever do something like this again, if you hurt yourself like this again, Hua Yong… forget about me liking you. I won’t see you anymore.”
That got Hua Yong’s attention immediately. He panicked, reaching out again, his voice shaking. “No, no, please, Mr. Sheng— I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I promise. Please don’t say that.”
The desperation in his tone made Shaoyou’s heart ache. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply before saying, “Stop apologizing.”
“But I don’t want you to be mad at me,” Hua Yong murmured, small and lost.
Shaoyou stood up from the chair and sat beside him on the bed. Hua Yong instinctively leaned back, worried his scent might still bother him. Shaoyou stared at him for a moment, his pale face, shaky hands, that lost look in his eyes, and it made him want to hit himself.
He reached out gently. “Come here.”
When Hua Yong didn’t move, Shaoyou closed the distance himself, carefully pulling him into a hug. Hua Yong went stiff at first, uncertain, until Shaoyou’s hand found the back of his head and began to stroke softly, guiding him to rest his head on his shoulder.
Shaoyou buried his face into the crook of Hua Yong’s neck, breathing in that familiar ghost orchid scent, clean and cold, with a sweetness underneath, like rain-soaked petals. The scent that used to unsettle him now felt like home.
“I’m sorry,” Shaoyou whispered against his skin. “For what I said this morning. I didn’t mean it. I love your scent, Hua Yong. I always have.”
Hua Yong’s whole body relaxed in his arms, the tension melting away. He pulled back slightly to look at him, eyes glassy. “Do you really mean that?”
Shaoyou cupped his face, his thumb brushing along Hua Yong’s cheek. “I do.” Then, without thinking, he leaned forward and nuzzled his nose against Hua Yong’s neck, breathing him in deeply, like he wanted to prove it.
Hua Yong smiled then. A small, tired smile, but real. Shaoyou leaned in and kissed him.
When they pulled apart, Shaoyou rested his forehead against Hua Yong’s and whispered, “Please take care of yourself. Love yourself the way you love me.”
Hua Yong blinked up at him, confusion flashing across his face. “But I only love Mr. Sheng. Isn’t that enough?”
Shaoyou’s lips curved, a small amused smile breaking through the sadness. “I know you do. And I’m so damn grateful for it. But I’d like it even more if you loved yourself, too. Can you try? For me?”
Hua Yong thought for a moment, his brow furrowed slightly, as if he didn’t understand the depth of Shaoyou’s words, or why it mattered so much, why Shaoyou would even ask that of him.
But for Shaoyou he was willing to do and learn anything so he nodded. “I’ll try. For Mr. Sheng.”
“And please don’t hurt yourself again. Not like that. Not for me, not for anyone.” He took a slow, shaky breath, his thumb tracing a small circle against Hua Yong’s skin. “When you hurt yourself, it hurts me too. You don’t see it, but it kills me inside. So, please… don’t do anything reckless again. Not even for me.”
Hua Yong blinked, startled by the shakiness of Shaoyou’s voice. “I… I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said softly, his brows knitting in guilt.
“I know,” Shaoyou whispered, a sad smile curling at his lips. “I know you didn’t. But I can’t stand seeing you like this again. You don’t have to go through pain to prove anything to me, Hua Yong.”
He let out a breath, his hand falling to hold Hua Yong’s. “I’ll do better too,” he said. “I’ll be honest this time. I won’t lie to you again, or say things I don’t mean. I’ll take better care of you—properly, the way I should have from the start.”
Later, when Shaoyou finally lay down beside him, Hua Yong immediately curled up against his chest, his head resting over Shaoyou’s heart. Shaoyou wrapped an arm around him, kissing his forehead. “I’m sorry again,” he murmured.
Hua Yong looked up, lips twitching into a smile. “I never thought I’d live to see Mr. Sheng apologize this much.”
Shaoyou flushed, looking away. “Don’t get used to it.”
Hua Yong giggled softly, then yawned, eyes growing heavy. “You’re so warm,” he mumbled, sleepy.
“Go to sleep,” Shaoyou whispered, brushing his hair back gently. “I love you, Hua Yong.”
Hua Yong smiled against his chest, already half-asleep. “I love you more, Mr. Sheng.”
Shaoyou’s heart softened completely. He kissed the top of Hua Yong’s head, holding him a little tighter. “Dummy,” he whispered affectionately.
But in that room, with Hua Yong’s breathing against his heart and the scent of ghost orchid in the air, Shaoyou couldn’t remember ever feeling so grateful, or so at peace.