Chapter Text
Sheng Shaoyu stared at the wedding invitation on his desk—pristine white cardstock with gold foil lettering, his name and Hua Yong's printed together like it was already decided. Like his entire future could be summarized in elegant calligraphy.
Mr. Sheng Shaoyu and Mr. Hua Yong request the honor of your presence...
Except he hadn't requested anything. Hadn't been asked. Hadn't agreed.
The marriage had been arranged when he was ten years old—a business alliance sealed with champagne and handshakes between his father and Hua Chengren, patriarch of the Hua empire. Back then, it had seemed distant. Abstract. Something that might never actually happen.
Now, at twenty-three, in the final year of his Master's program in International Business, with the wedding date set for three months away—right after his graduation—it was very real.
And Shaoyu wanted no part of it.
"You look like you're attending a funeral rather than planning your wedding." His mother's voice cut through his thoughts as she entered his apartment without knocking—a habit that had always irritated him, even after she'd helped him find this place near campus.
"Feels like the same thing," Shaoyu muttered, not bothering to hide his displeasure.
"Shaoyu." Her tone shifted to that careful diplomacy she used when trying to manage him. "This union is important. For both families. You understand that, don't you?"
"What I understand is that I'm being sold like a corporate asset." He turned to face her, jaw tight. "I never agreed to this, Mama. Neither did he, probably. We're strangers being forced together because our fathers made a deal over whiskey thirteen years ago."
"That's how alliances work—"
"That's how prisons work." Shaoyu stood, restless energy making it impossible to sit still. His textbooks for next week's finals lay abandoned on the coffee table—Business Ethics, ironically enough. "I'm twenty-three years old. I'm still in school. I've never been allowed to make a single decision about my own life. Where I went to university—decided. What I studied—decided. Who I'm going to marry—decided before I even hit puberty."
His mother's expression softened slightly, but her resolve didn't waver. "I know this isn't what you would have chosen. But Hua Yong is a good match. He's intelligent, successful, from a respectable family—"
"He's a monster." The words came out harder than intended.
"You've never even met him."
"I don't need to. Everyone knows what he is." Shaoyu grabbed a business magazine from his desk—one of many he'd collected over the past month, researching the man he was supposed to spend his life with. "Look at this. 'Hua Yong, 25, closes rival company with ruthless efficiency, 200 employees lose jobs.' Or this one: 'Ice Prince of Hua Empire crushes competitors without mercy.' He's called the 'Cold-Blooded Heir' in half these articles."
"Business isn't personal—"
"Everything is personal when you're destroying people's livelihoods." Shaoyu threw the magazine down. "He's twenty-five and already has a reputation for being calculating, emotionless, and completely without empathy. He took over as CEO of Hua Corporation last year and immediately restructured everything with what people call 'surgical coldness.' And you want me to marry him? To spend my life with someone like that?"
"Reputation isn't always reality—"
"Then why hasn't he fought this arrangement?" Shaoyu challenged. "If he's such a decent person, why hasn't he objected to being forced into marriage with a stranger? Someone still in graduate school? Why is he just... going along with it?"
His mother was quiet for a moment. "Perhaps for the same reason you're expected to. Duty. Family obligation."
"Or because he doesn't care." Shaoyu's voice dropped. "Because to someone like him, a spouse is just another acquisition. Another asset to manage. Another piece on his chessboard."
"You're being dramatic—"
"Am I?" Shaoyu pulled up his phone, scrolling to a photo he'd found online—the only clear picture of Hua Yong he'd been able to locate from a recent business conference.
The man was devastatingly handsome, he could admit that objectively. Sharp features, dark eyes, impeccable posture. But there was something in his expression—or rather, the lack of expression—that sent chills down Shaoyu's spine. He looked like a statue. Beautiful and cold and utterly untouchable.
"Look at him," Shaoyu said, showing his mother the photo. "Does he look like someone capable of love? Of warmth? Of anything remotely human?"
"Looks can be deceiving—"
"So can arranged marriages." Shaoyu set his phone down. "Mama, please. I'm asking you—begging you—to talk to Father. To call this off. I haven't even finished my degree yet. I wanted to travel after graduation, maybe do a PhD, experience life before settling down. I don't want to spend my life trapped with someone who sees me as a business obligation."
"You can still do your PhD if you want—"
"As a married man? Under Hua Yong's household?" Shaoyu laughed bitterly. "You think he'll let me have that kind of independence? Someone that controlling?"
His mother's expression turned sympathetic but firm. "Shaoyu, I understand this is difficult. But the contracts are signed. Both families have invested significant resources into this union. Breaking the arrangement now would be... catastrophic. Financially, socially, politically."
"So I'm supposed to sacrifice my entire life to avoid embarrassment?"
"You're supposed to honor your family's commitments." Her voice hardened. "This is what we do, Shaoyu. We make sacrifices for the greater good. Your grandfather built this empire through strategic alliances. Your father maintained it the same way. And now it's your turn."
"I never asked to inherit an empire."
"No one asks. It's given, and we accept it with grace." She moved toward the door, clearly considering the conversation over. "The engagement party is Saturday. I trust you'll attend and behave appropriately. Hua Yong will be there. Try to make a good impression."
"I have finals next week—"
"Then you'll study after the party. This is more important."
She left before Shaoyu could argue further.
He stood alone in his small apartment—the one place that had felt like his, away from family expectations—and felt the walls closing in.
Three months until the wedding. Right after graduation. His degree would be immediately followed by a marriage ceremony, his cap and gown traded for a wedding suit.
Three months until his life became someone else's property.
Unless—
Shaoyu pulled open his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. He'd been passively researching for weeks, half-formed plans that he'd never quite committed to.
But now, with the engagement party looming and reality closing in, those half-formed plans crystallized into something concrete.
He had three months. Three months to disappear before the wedding, to escape this gilded cage before the door locked permanently.
It would be difficult. The Sheng family had resources, connections, the ability to track him almost anywhere.
But "almost anywhere" wasn't everywhere.
Shaoyu pulled up a folder he'd been building—countries with limited extradition, cities where he could disappear into anonymity, contingency plans for accessing funds without triggering family alerts.
He'd need to be careful. Strategic. Patient.
All the things Hua Yong was reported to be.
The irony wasn't lost on him—that escaping a cold, calculating man would require becoming cold and calculating himself.
But freedom was worth it.
His phone buzzed. A message from his father's assistant: Engagement party confirmed for Saturday, 7 PM. Black tie. Your father expects you there at 6:30 for photos. Don't be late.
Shaoyu stared at the message for a long moment. He had a Corporate Finance exam on Monday morning that he should be studying for. A thesis proposal due the following week. A future he'd planned that involved research, maybe teaching, seeing the world beyond boardrooms and business deals.
None of it mattered anymore.
Then he opened a new browser window and began researching flights to Southeast Asia—the first stop in what would become his escape route.
Saturday's engagement party would be his first and last time meeting Hua Yong in person.
He'd smile. Play the dutiful son. Give everyone what they expected.
And then, quietly and carefully, he would vanish.
Because no matter what promises had been made, no matter what contracts had been signed—
Sheng Shaoyu refused to let his life belong to someone like Hua Yong.
Saturday arrived with oppressive sunshine and his mother's relentless fussing.
"Stand still," she commanded, adjusting his tie for the third time in the guest room of the Sheng estate. "You need to look perfect. The Hua family is bringing extended relatives. Everyone will be watching."
"Great. Nothing says romance like being inspected like livestock." Shaoyu kept his voice light, but his jaw was tight.
They were at his childhood home—the Sheng estate on the outskirts of the city, all marble columns and manicured gardens and old money elegance. The engagement party was being held in the grand ballroom, already filling with guests in expensive clothing and fake smiles.
Shaoyu felt distinctly out of place in the formal attire—he'd gotten used to his casual campus life, hoodies and coffee shops and late-night study sessions with friends who didn't care about business empires or arranged marriages.
His mind kept drifting to the exam he should be studying for. Monday morning. Corporate Finance. He had his notes in the car, had planned to review them one more time before the party, but his mother had swept him away the moment he arrived.
"Where's Father?" Shaoyu asked, checking his watch. 6:25. Five minutes until the mandatory family photos.
"Speaking with Mr. Hua. They're finalizing some last-minute details about the wedding." His mother finally stepped back, satisfied with his appearance. "You look handsome. Hua Yong will be impressed."
I don't care if he's impressed. But Shaoyu kept that thought to himself.
At precisely 6:30, he was shepherded into a private room for photos. His father was there, looking distinguished and pleased. His mother hovering with that careful smile she used for important occasions.
And beside his father, speaking in low tones, was Hua Chengren—patriarch of the Hua family, a man who'd built his empire through a combination of brilliance and ruthlessness.
"Ah, Shaoyu!" Hua Chengren's voice boomed with false warmth. "Look at you. All grown up. Your father tells me you're finishing your Master's soon. Top of your class!"
"Thank you, Mr. Hua." Shaoyu bowed slightly, the picture of respectful courtesy. "I defend my thesis in a few weeks."
"Excellent, excellent! Smart boy. Hua Yong will appreciate that—he values intelligence." He clapped Shaoyu on the shoulder with the confidence of someone who'd never been told no. "Speaking of which, he should be here any moment. Traffic, you know how it is."
Right. Traffic. Not that Hua Yong was dreading this as much as Shaoyu was.
The photographer arranged them for family portraits—Shaoyu between his parents, all of them smiling like this was a happy occasion rather than a business transaction.
At 6:45, the door opened.
"Apologies for the delay."
The voice was smooth, warm even, and sent an involuntary shiver down Shaoyu's spine.
He turned.
And came face-to-face with Hua Yong for the first time.
The photos hadn't done him justice—or perhaps they'd been misleading entirely. He was beautiful in an almost ethereal way. Tall, lean, dressed in a black suit that probably cost more than Shaoyu's semester tuition. His posture was perfect, but there was something softer about him in person than Shaoyu had expected.
His eyes—dark and warm—landed on Shaoyu, and his entire face lit up with what looked like genuine happiness.
"Shaoyu," Hua Yong said, his smile bright and sincere. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you. I've been looking forward to this."
Shaoyu's prepared response died in his throat. This wasn't the cold, calculating businessman from the articles. This was someone who looked... excited. Happy, even.
It had to be an act.
"Likewise," Shaoyu managed, his smile tight as he accepted Hua Yong's offered hand.
Hua Yong's handshake was warm, enthusiastic, and he held on just a moment longer than necessary before seeming to catch himself. "Sorry—I'm just really happy to finally put a face to all the stories your parents have told me. They speak so highly of you."
"Thank you." Shaoyu extracted his hand, keeping his expression pleasantly neutral.
"I heard you have finals coming up?" Hua Yong's concern was immediate. "Your mother mentioned it when we were planning the date. I hope the party isn't too inconvenient? I know how stressful exam season can be."
"It's fine." The words came out clipped.
"Are you sure? Because if you need to leave early to study, I completely understand. We can make excuses—"
"I said it's fine," Shaoyu repeated, smile still frozen in place.
Something flickered across Hua Yong's face—concern, maybe?—but before he could respond, the photographer was calling for their attention.
"Let's get the couple photos!" the photographer announced cheerfully.
They were positioned side by side, and immediately Hua Yong turned to him. "Is this okay? Not too close? I know we just met, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"It's fine." Shaoyu's jaw was starting to hurt from holding the smile.
"Closer, gentlemen!" the photographer called. "Mr. Hua, perhaps a hand on Mr. Sheng's shoulder?"
Hua Yong looked at Shaoyu, clearly asking permission. Shaoyu gave a tight nod.
The hand that settled on his shoulder was gentle, warm. "Just let me know if you want me to move," Hua Yong murmured. "Or if the photos are taking too long and you need to get back to studying. Your education is more important than pictures."
Shaoyu said nothing, just maintained his smile for the camera while internally screaming.
Why was Hua Yong being so considerate? It was unsettling. Wrong. The Ice Prince wasn't supposed to care about exam schedules or personal comfort.
"Perfect!" The photographer beamed. "You two look wonderful together. Very natural."
If he said "natural" one more time, Shaoyu might scream.
After photos, they were finally released into the ballroom. The party was in full swing—hundreds of guests milling about, champagne flowing, a string quartet playing in the corner.
Shaoyu and Hua Yong were immediately swept into the crowd, expected to greet guests together.
"Congratulations!"
"What a beautiful couple!"
"The Sheng and Hua families, finally united!"
Shaoyu smiled and nodded and thanked people mechanically, hyperaware of Hua Yong beside him. His fiancé—god, that word felt wrong—greeted each guest with genuine warmth, but Shaoyu noticed he kept glancing over, that concerned expression never quite leaving his face.
After twenty minutes of greetings, there was a brief lull. Hua Yong immediately turned to him.
"Are you alright? You look tired. Would you like to sit down for a moment?"
"I'm fine," Shaoyu said through his tight smile.
"Is it the exam? Are you worried about Monday?" Hua Yong's concern seemed genuine. "Because honestly, if you'd rather skip the party and study, I can handle the guests. Your father would understand—"
"I said I'm fine."
"Right. Sorry." Hua Yong looked apologetic. "I don't mean to hover. I just—I know how stressful school can be, and I don't want you to feel like you have to sacrifice your grades for this."
Before Shaoyu could respond, more guests arrived, requiring their attention.
The pattern continued throughout the evening. Every time there was a break, Hua Yong would check in—asking if Shaoyu was comfortable, if he needed anything, if he wanted to leave early to study. Each question delivered with genuine concern, each offer seeming sincere.
It was maddening.
During one particularly long speech from a business associate, Hua Yong leaned in slightly. "I'm sorry this is taking so long. I know you probably have better things to do on a Saturday night than listen to corporate executives drone on about market shares."
Shaoyu's tight smile didn't waver. "It's fine."
"Is it though?" Hua Yong's voice was soft, worried. "You've been looking stressed all evening. If it's about the exam, or if you're just tired—"
"I'm fine." The words came out sharper than intended, and several nearby guests glanced over.
Hua Yong immediately pulled back, that apologetic expression returning. "Of course. Sorry for bothering you."
He didn't try to initiate conversation again after that, though Shaoyu caught him glancing over periodically with that same concerned look.
When dinner was finally served, they were seated at the head table—Shaoyu between his mother and Hua Yong. His fiancé was immediately attentive, making sure Shaoyu's water glass was filled, asking if he had any dietary restrictions, offering to get him different food if he didn't like what was served.
"The salmon is really good," Hua Yong said, gesturing to his own plate. "But if you'd prefer something else, I can ask—"
"This is fine," Shaoyu said, not looking at him.
"Right. Of course." Hua Yong was quiet for a moment, then tentatively, "Your mother mentioned you're writing your thesis on ethical considerations in international business mergers. That sounds really interesting. What made you choose that topic?"
Small talk. He wanted to make small talk.
"It seemed relevant," Shaoyu said shortly, taking a bite of his food.
"I'd love to hear more about it sometime, if you're willing to share." Hua Yong's enthusiasm was understated but present. "I actually did my undergraduate thesis on similar topics. Maybe we could—"
"Maybe," Shaoyu cut him off with his tight smile, then turned to his mother to engage her in conversation instead.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hua Yong's expression fall slightly, but his fiancé didn't push. Just quietly returned to his own meal.
After dinner came the mandatory first dance. Shaoyu had been dreading this part all evening.
Hua Yong offered his hand with a gentle smile. "Shall we?"
They moved to the dance floor, and Hua Yong immediately proved he knew how to lead—smooth, confident, but never overwhelming. His hand on Shaoyu's waist was light, respectful.
"You're a good dancer," Hua Yong said softly.
"Thank you." Tight smile. Always the tight smile.
"I hope I'm not holding you too tightly?" Hua Yong's concern was immediate. "Or too loosely? I want to make sure you're comfortable."
"It's fine."
"Shaoyu..." Hua Yong hesitated, then, "I know today has been long, and you're probably exhausted. Especially with exams coming up. I just want you to know—if you need anything, if you're uncomfortable, if you want to leave early—just tell me. Okay?"
"Why do you keep asking that?" The question came out before Shaoyu could stop it.
"Because you look stressed?" Hua Yong's expression was genuinely confused. "And I want to help if I can. That's what partners do, isn't it? Look out for each other?"
We're not partners, Shaoyu wanted to scream. We're strangers trapped in an arrangement neither of us chose.
But he couldn't say that. Not here, with hundreds of guests watching, with both families beaming at them like they were a fairy tale come to life.
"I'm fine," he repeated instead.
"Alright." Hua Yong didn't look convinced, but he let it drop. "Well, the offer stands. Anytime you need anything—even if it's just a break from all of this—I'm here."
The music ended. They stepped apart, and Hua Yong gave him a small, hopeful smile. "Thank you for the dance."
"You're welcome." Shaoyu's face hurt from maintaining the smile.
Hua Yong was immediately pulled away by his father to speak with some business associates. Shaoyu watched him go, noting how even across the room, Hua Yong kept glancing back with that concerned expression.
Like he actually cared whether Shaoyu was okay.
It had to be an act. A performance. The Ice Prince playing the role of devoted fiancé.
But if it was an act, it was a convincing one.
Shaoyu made his escape to the bathroom, locking himself in a stall and taking deep breaths. His phone buzzed—a reminder he'd set for himself about the exam. He should be home right now, going over his notes, memorizing formulas, preparing.
Instead he was here, being fawned over by a man he didn't know, who kept looking at him like Shaoyu was something precious that might break.
When he finally emerged, Hua Yong was waiting outside the bathroom doors. Not hovering—he was a respectful distance away—but clearly waiting.
"Sorry," Hua Yong said immediately, looking embarrassed. "I'm not trying to be creepy. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You were gone for a while and I got worried."
"I'm fine," Shaoyu said, exhaustion making his voice sharper than intended.
"Right. Sorry. I'll stop asking." Hua Yong's smile was apologetic. "I know I'm probably being annoying. I just—" He stopped himself. "Never mind. The cake cutting is soon. After that, we can probably make our exit if you want? I know you have studying to do."
Before Shaoyu could respond, they were called back to the main ballroom for the cake.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of forced smiles and tight responses. Through it all, Hua Yong remained attentive—making sure Shaoyu had water, offering to get him food, suggesting they could leave early, checking if he was comfortable.
It was suffocating in its consideration.
Finally—finally—around 10 PM, the party began winding down. Shaoyu's parents were saying goodbye to guests, and he saw his chance to escape.
"I should go," he said to no one in particular, already moving toward the exit.
"Wait—" Hua Yong caught up with him at the door. "Let me walk you to your car at least?"
"That's not necessary."
"I know, but I'd like to." Hua Yong's smile was gentle. "Please?"
Shaoyu didn't have the energy to argue. They walked to the parking area in silence, the night air cool after the stuffy ballroom.
At his car, Hua Yong finally spoke. "I hope tonight wasn't too terrible. I know these events are exhausting."
"It was fine." The automatic response.
"Shaoyu..." Hua Yong hesitated, then, "I know you're stressed about your exam. And probably overwhelmed by all of this. I just want you to know—there's no pressure. From me, at least. We have three months before the wedding. That's plenty of time to get to know each other properly. No rush."
"Right." Shaoyu unlocked his car.
"And if you ever need anything—help with studying, someone to talk to, just space—please let me know." Hua Yong's sincerity was almost painful. "I want us to be... comfortable with each other. Friends, eventually, if we can be."
Friends. With the man he was planning to run away from in three months.
"Sure," Shaoyu said with his tight smile. "Thank you for tonight."
"Of course. Good luck on your exam Monday. I'm sure you'll do great." Hua Yong stepped back. "Drive safe, okay?"
Shaoyu got in his car without responding, pulling away before Hua Yong could say anything else.
In his rearview mirror, he saw his fiancé standing in the parking area, watching him leave with that same concerned expression.
He thinks I'm just stressed about exams, Shaoyu realized. He has no idea I'm being forced into this. He thinks... he thinks I actually want this marriage.
The thought was unsettling.
Because if Hua Yong genuinely believed this was a willing arrangement on both sides, then all that consideration, all that concern—it wasn't manipulation.
It was just... kindness.
Kindness toward someone he thought was going to be his partner.
Shaoyu's grip tightened on the steering wheel.
It didn't matter. Hua Yong's intentions didn't matter. Whether he was genuinely kind or just better at performing than expected—none of it changed the fact that Shaoyu was trapped.
Three months until the wedding.
Three months to finalize his escape.
And he couldn't afford to let Hua Yong's gentle smiles and worried questions derail his plans.
No matter how genuine they seemed.
No matter how much a small, traitorous part of him wondered what it would be like to have someone care like that.
Freedom was still the goal.
And nothing—not guilt, not confusion, not Hua Yong's earnest concern—would stop him from reaching it.
When Shaoyu finally got home, it was nearly 11 PM. His exam notes lay untouched on his desk. He should study. Should prepare.
Instead, he pulled up his escape planning documents, adding new details, refining his routes.
His phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number:
Hi Shaoyu, it's Hua Yong. I got your number from your mother—I hope that's okay? Just wanted to say again that it was wonderful meeting you tonight. Good luck with your exam! If you need anything—study materials, coffee delivery, someone to quiz you—just let me know. Sleep well! - HY
Shaoyu stared at the message for a long moment.
Then he deleted it without responding.
He couldn't afford kindness. Couldn't afford to see Hua Yong as anything other than the cage he was planning to escape.
Even if that cage was gentler than expected.
Even if it came with concerned questions and genuine smiles.
Even if, for just a moment tonight, he'd almost believed someone could care.
Almost.
Sheng Shaoyu had been careful. Meticulous, even.
He'd used incognito browsers, deleted his search history, encrypted his files. The burner phone he'd purchased for his escape was hidden in a hollowed-out textbook on his shelf. The cash he'd been slowly withdrawing was taped behind his dresser. Every detail planned, every contingency considered.
He'd been careful.
But apparently, not careful enough.
"Sit down."
His father's voice was cold—the kind of cold that meant someone had made a serious mistake. Shaoyu stood frozen in the doorway of his childhood home's study, called back from campus by an urgent text.
On the desk between them lay printouts. Flight confirmations. Bank statements. Screenshots of encrypted documents that shouldn't have been accessible.
His escape plan, laid bare.
"Father, I can explain—"
"Sit. Down."
Shaoyu sat.
His father picked up one of the papers—the flight to Bangkok, scheduled for two weeks before the wedding. "Were you planning to tell anyone? Or were you just going to disappear like a coward?"
"I'm not a coward for wanting my own life—"
"You're a coward for running away from your responsibilities." His father's voice was ice. "Do you have any idea what this would have done? The scandal? The financial repercussions? We have contracts, Shaoyu. Legally binding agreements with the Hua family. If you had disappeared, it wouldn't just be embarrassing—it would be devastating."
"I didn't ask for those contracts—"
"No, you benefited from them." His father stood, towering over him. "Every opportunity you've had, every advantage, every door that's opened for you—they came from this family's name. From alliances like the one you were planning to destroy."
"So I owe you my entire life? My freedom?"
"You owe us your honor." His father's jaw was tight. "The Sheng family does not break promises. We do not run away from commitments like spoiled children having tantrums."
"This isn't a tantrum! I don't want to marry a stranger—"
"Hua Yong isn't a stranger. You met him. Your mother said he was nothing but kind to you at the engagement party."
The memory of Hua Yong's concerned questions, his gentle smiles, flashed through Shaoyu's mind. He shoved it away.
"That doesn't mean I want to spend my life with him."
"What you want is irrelevant." His father's tone was final. "You will marry Hua Yong in three months as planned. And until then, to ensure you don't do anything else foolish..."
He pressed a button on his desk phone. Two men in dark suits entered—security personnel Shaoyu recognized from family events.
"These are Chen and Wong. They'll be accompanying you everywhere until the wedding. To class, to the library, anywhere you go. They're under strict instructions not to let you out of their sight."
"You're having me followed? I'm not a criminal!"
"You were planning to commit fraud—those fake identities you purchased? Illegal. You were planning to breach contract—that's grounds for lawsuit. You were planning to steal family funds—that's embezzlement." His father's expression was hard. "So yes, Shaoyu. You will be supervised. For your own good."
"This is insane—"
"This is consequence." His father sat back down, already turning to other papers on his desk. Dismissing him. "Your schedule will be simple: attend your classes, come home immediately after, and spend your evenings preparing for the wedding. Your mother has fittings scheduled, meetings with planners, various obligations. You will attend all of them with a smile on your face."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then Chen and Wong will ensure your attendance anyway. But I imagine that would be more embarrassing for you than willing cooperation." His father looked up, expression carved from stone. "The wedding will happen, Shaoyu. Accept that now and make the next three months easier on everyone."
"What about Hua Yong?" The question came out before Shaoyu could stop it. "Does he know? That you're imprisoning me?"
"The Hua family will be informed that you're focusing on your studies and wedding preparations. They don't need to know about your... momentary lapse in judgment." His father's gaze was sharp. "And you will not tell them. This stays within our family. Understood?"
Shaoyu said nothing.
"I said, understood?"
"Yes," Shaoyu bit out. "Understood."
"Good. Chen and Wong will drive you back to your apartment. They'll be stationed outside at all times. Don't bother trying to slip past them—they're professionals." His father returned to his paperwork. "You're dismissed."
Shaoyu stood on numb legs and walked out, the two security men falling into step behind him.
His prison sentence had begun.
The first week was suffocating.
Chen and Wong were everywhere. Outside his apartment at night, walking ten feet behind him on campus, sitting in the corner of the library while he studied. They didn't interact with him—just watched, silent and omnipresent.
His classmates noticed. Started whispering.
"Why does Sheng have bodyguards?"
"Is he in danger?"
"Maybe it's because of the wedding? Security precaution?"
Shaoyu ignored them all, threw himself into his remaining coursework with mechanical efficiency. Finals came and went. He aced every exam through sheer spite—if he was going to be trapped, he'd at least finish his degree with honors.
His phone buzzed constantly the first few days. Messages from Hua Yong.
Hi! How did your exam go? I hope you did well!
I was thinking—would you like to get coffee sometime this week? No pressure, just thought it might be nice to talk.
Your mother mentioned you're free this weekend. There's a new art exhibition downtown if you're interested? Or we could do something else—whatever you'd enjoy.
Just checking in. Hope you're not too stressed with finals. Let me know if I can help with anything.
Each message was warm, considerate, completely oblivious to the fact that Shaoyu was under house arrest because he'd tried to run away from their marriage.
Shaoyu's responses were curt. Minimal.
Exam was fine.
Busy with studying.
Can't this weekend.
After a week of dry replies, Hua Yong's messages became less frequent but no less kind.
I understand you're busy. Just wanted to say I'm thinking of you. Hope school is going well.
Shaoyu left it on read.
Another week, another attempt:
I know you have a lot on your plate, but if you ever want to take a break, I'm here. We could grab lunch? Or I could bring food to you if you don't want to go out.
Can't. Busy.
Three days later:
Your mother said you have a fitting tomorrow. I have one too—different location, but I was thinking maybe we could meet up after? Compare notes on how uncomfortable formal wear is? 😊
Shaoyu stared at the message—at the emoji, at the gentle humor, at the clear desire to connect—and felt something twist in his chest.
Can't. Other commitments.
The messages slowed to once a week. Then less. But they never stopped completely, and they never lost their warmth.
Hope you're doing okay. Thinking of you.
Three weeks until the wedding. Getting nervous? I am, a little. Would be nice to talk about it if you want.
Just wanted to say you're doing great. I know this is all overwhelming.
Each message went unanswered or received the bare minimum response. Eventually, Shaoyu stopped opening them at all. Just let them pile up, unread, in his inbox.
It was easier than engaging. Easier than pretending.
Easier than acknowledging the guilt that crept in every time he saw Hua Yong's name on his screen.
The second week, his mother descended with wedding preparations.
Cake tastings. Flower selections. Seating arrangements. Menu approvals. A thousand tiny decisions that Shaoyu couldn't bring himself to care about.
"What do you think of these centerpieces?" His mother held up two nearly identical flower arrangements.
"They're fine."
"Shaoyu, you need to participate—"
"Why? None of this matters. Pick whichever one you want."
His mother's expression tightened. "Hua Yong is participating. He's been very involved in the planning, trying to make sure everything is to both your tastes—"
"Then he can decide." Shaoyu stood from the table covered in fabric swatches and invitation samples. "I have an essay to write."
"Where do you think you're going?" His mother's voice was sharp.
"My room. To work." Shaoyu gestured to Chen and Wong, who'd been standing silently in the corner during the entire meeting. "Don't worry. My babysitters will make sure I don't escape through the window."
He left before she could respond, Chen and Wong trailing behind him like shadows.
In his room—his childhood bedroom, since his father had decided the apartment was "too risky"—Shaoyu stared at his laptop. His thesis was due in two weeks. After that, graduation. After that...
His phone buzzed. Another message from Hua Yong.
Your mother told me about the centerpieces! I love the peonies, but honestly both options are beautiful. What do you think?
Shaoyu opened his phone, typed out a response: Don't care. You choose.
Too harsh. He deleted it.
Tried again: Either is fine.
Still too dismissive. But he sent it anyway.
Three dots appeared immediately, showing Hua Yong was typing. They disappeared. Reappeared. Disappeared again.
Finally: Okay! I'll go with the peonies then. Hope you're having a good day!
Shaoyu threw his phone onto the bed and tried to focus on his thesis.
He failed.
Week three brought the engagement announcement in the society pages.
Sheng-Hua Union to Take Place in Elegant June Ceremony
The article included photos from the engagement party—Shaoyu and Hua Yong standing together, both smiling. To anyone looking, they appeared happy. Excited, even.
The comments section was full of congratulations and speculation:
They look so perfect together!
I heard Hua Yong is completely smitten. How romantic!
Sheng Shaoyu is so lucky. Hua Yong is gorgeous and successful.
Shaoyu closed the browser before he could read more.
His phone rang. Hua Yong. Calling this time instead of texting.
Shaoyu let it ring until it went to voicemail.
Two minutes later, a text: Sorry for calling without asking first! Just saw the article and wanted to see how you're feeling about it. Some of the comments are pretty invasive. Hope you're okay.
Even now—even with Shaoyu's consistent coldness—Hua Yong's first thought was checking if he was alright.
Shaoyu opened the message, started typing a response, then stopped.
What was the point? In a few weeks, they'd be married. Hua Yong would discover exactly how unwilling Shaoyu was. Would realize his concerned texts had been wasted on someone who'd tried to flee the country rather than marry him.
He left the message on read.
The final week before the wedding was chaos.
Final fittings. Rehearsal dinner planning. Last-minute adjustments. His mother in full wedding coordinator mode, barking orders and checking lists obsessively.
"The ceremony is at 2 PM," she said for the hundredth time. "Photos at 1, so you need to be dressed and ready by 12:30. The reception starts at 5—"
"I know the schedule," Shaoyu interrupted. "You've told me a dozen times."
"I'm telling you again because you seem determined to be difficult about everything." His mother's patience was clearly wearing thin. "This is your wedding, Shaoyu. Could you at least pretend to care?"
"Why? We all know it's not about me. It's about the families, the alliance, the business contracts." He met her eyes. "I'm just the prop in your corporate theater."
"You're being dramatic—"
"Am I? Because I tried to leave and got put under armed guard. That seems pretty theatrical to me."
His mother's expression softened slightly. "Shaoyu... I know this is hard. But once you're married, once you and Hua Yong have time to actually get to know each other—"
"What if I don't want to know him?"
"Then you'll learn to want to." Her voice was firm. "Marriage is work. Love grows over time. You're not giving this a chance."
"I never wanted the chance." But his voice lacked the conviction it had held weeks ago.
Because the truth was, Hua Yong's messages—the ones piling up in his inbox, the ones he barely responded to—they'd gotten under his skin. The persistent kindness, the genuine concern, the way Hua Yong kept reaching out despite Shaoyu's coldness.
It would be easier if Hua Yong was a monster. If he was cold, demanding, controlling.
But he wasn't. He was kind. Patient. Understanding to a fault.
And Shaoyu hated him for it.
Hated how it made everything more complicated. Made the anger harder to hold onto. Made the idea of escape feel less like freedom and more like...
He didn't let himself finish that thought.
The night before the wedding, Shaoyu couldn't sleep.
He lay in his childhood bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Chen and Wong's quiet conversation outside his door. His wedding suit hung on the closet door—custom-tailored, elegant, expensive. A costume for tomorrow's performance.
His phone buzzed at 11 PM.
I know you're probably asleep—or trying to sleep. Just wanted to say... tomorrow is a big day. For both of us. I'm nervous, honestly. But also... hopeful? I hope we can make this work, Shaoyu. I really do. Sleep well. See you tomorrow. - HY
Shaoyu read the message three times.
Hopeful.
Hua Yong was hopeful about marrying someone who'd barely spoken to him in three months. Someone who'd ignored his messages, declined his invitations, given him nothing but coldness.
And he was still hopeful.
Shaoyu's thumb hovered over the keyboard. He should respond. Should say... something. Even if it was a lie.
But what could he say? Sorry I tried to run away from you? Sorry I can't reciprocate your kindness? Sorry you're marrying someone who resents you for existing?
He locked his phone without responding.
Tomorrow, they'd exchange vows. Tomorrow, Hua Yong would become his husband.
Tomorrow, the cage door would lock permanently.
And there was nothing Shaoyu could do to stop it.
Sheng Shaoyu woke to sunshine streaming through his windows and the immediate, crushing realization of what day it was.
His wedding day.
For a moment, he lay perfectly still, hoping it was a nightmare. That he'd wake up properly and find it was months ago, when escape was still possible.
But the wedding suit hanging on his door was real. The sounds of people already moving through the house—caterers, wedding coordinators, his mother's sharp voice directing everyone—were real.
This was happening.
A knock on his door. "Shaoyu? Time to get up. Hair and makeup are here."
Hair and makeup. Like he was a doll being dressed up for display.
"I'm up," he called back, voice hoarse from sleep.
He dragged himself out of bed, every movement feeling like wading through concrete. In the bathroom, his reflection looked hollow—dark circles under his eyes from weeks of poor sleep, his expression blank.
This is your wedding day, he told his reflection. You're supposed to be happy.
The face staring back at him looked anything but.
The next three hours were a blur of being poked and prodded by professionals.
His hair was styled—"natural but polished," the stylist said, as if that meant anything. Light makeup was applied to hide the exhaustion. His suit was brought out, fitted one final time to ensure every line was perfect.
His mother fluttered around him like an anxious bird. "Stand still. Stop slouching. Smile—no, a real smile. Shaoyu, this is your wedding day, could you at least try to look happy?"
"I'm trying," he lied.
By noon, he was fully dressed, standing in front of the mirror in his childhood bedroom, barely recognizing himself. The suit was beautiful—perfectly tailored, expensive fabric, elegant without being ostentatious. He looked like someone getting married in a fairy tale.
He felt like someone walking to their execution.
"Oh, Shaoyu." His mother's voice went soft, emotional. "You look so handsome."
"Thanks, Mama."
"Hua Yong is going to be speechless when he sees you."
Shaoyu said nothing. Hua Yong had been trying to "see him" for three months, and Shaoyu had done everything possible to avoid it.
"Are you ready?" his mother asked gently.
No. I'll never be ready. I want to run. I want to disappear. I want anything but this.
"Yes," he said. "I'm ready."
The venue was the Sheng family estate's garden—transformed into something out of a magazine spread. White flowers everywhere, elegant chairs arranged in perfect rows, a decorated arch where the ceremony would take place. Classical music played softly. Guests in expensive clothing milled about, champagne glasses in hand.
It was beautiful.
It was suffocating.
Shaoyu was escorted to a private room to wait until the ceremony began. Chen and Wong stood outside—still his shadows, even on his wedding day. As if he might try to escape in his wedding suit.
The thought had crossed his mind.
His phone sat on the side table, screen dark. He picked it up, scrolling through the messages he'd ignored over the past weeks.
All from Hua Yong. Dozens of them. Kind words, gentle questions, offers of companionship that Shaoyu had refused over and over.
The last message, from last night: I hope we can make this work, Shaoyu. I really do.
Shaoyu's thumb hovered over the keyboard.
He should respond. Should say something. They were getting married in less than an hour.
But what could he say that wasn't a lie?
His door opened. His father stood there, dressed impeccably, expression unreadable.
"It's time."
Shaoyu set his phone down and stood.
"You look good," his father said, adjusting Shaoyu's collar unnecessarily. "The Sheng family will be proud today."
But will I? Shaoyu wanted to ask. Will I be proud? Or just trapped?
"Thank you," he said instead.
They walked through the estate's halls toward the garden, his father's hand heavy on his shoulder—whether in support or restraint, Shaoyu couldn't tell.
At the entrance to the garden, the wedding coordinator was waiting. "We're ready when you are. The groom is already at the arch—he's been there for twenty minutes, actually. Quite eager."
Of course he was. Hua Yong, who'd spent three months trying to connect with Shaoyu only to be met with coldness, was eager to marry him.
The irony was suffocating.
Music changed—the wedding march beginning. Through the doorway, Shaoyu could see rows of guests standing, turning to look.
And at the arch, waiting with barely contained emotion, was Hua Yong.
Even from this distance, Shaoyu could see his face light up as the music started. Could see him straighten, hands clasped in front of him, looking toward the entrance with an expression that could only be described as hopeful.
Hopeful.
Despite everything. Despite Shaoyu's coldness, his refusals, his silence.
Hua Yong was still hopeful.
"Ready?" his father asked.
Shaoyu took a deep breath.
No. I'm not ready. I'll never be ready. But I'm out of options. Out of time. Out of ways to escape.
"Yes," he whispered.
The doors opened fully.
And Sheng Shaoyu walked toward his future—toward the man waiting for him with kind eyes and an open heart—feeling like every step was carrying him further from freedom and deeper into a life he never chose.
The garden was full of faces—hundreds of guests watching, smiling, expecting joy.
But all Shaoyu could feel was the weight of the cage closing around him.
One step. Another. Another.
Hua Yong's smile grew brighter with each step Shaoyu took.
And all Shaoyu could think was: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You don't know what you're getting. You don't know I don't want this. You don't know I tried to run.
You don't know anything real about me at all.
The music swelled.
The guests watched.
His father's hand guided him forward.
And Sheng Shaoyu walked toward Hua Yong—toward marriage, toward commitment, toward a future written by someone else's hand—with a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes and a heart full of resentment he couldn't voice.
I'm sorry, he thought again, meeting Hua Yong's bright, hopeful gaze as he reached the arch.
I'm sorry for what this is going to become.
I'm sorry you don't know the truth.
I'm sorry—
"Hi," Hua Yong whispered, voice thick with emotion. "You look... you look amazing."
Shaoyu forced his smile wider.
And the ceremony began.
The ceremony passed in a blur of words Shaoyu barely heard.
"Do you, Sheng Shaoyu, take Hua Yong to be your lawfully wedded husband..."
"I do." The words felt like ash on his tongue.
"Do you, Hua Yong, take Sheng Shaoyu to be your lawfully wedded husband..."
"I do." Hua Yong's voice was warm, certain, full of emotion that made Shaoyu's chest tighten uncomfortably.
"You may now kiss."
Hua Yong leaned in slowly, giving Shaoyu time to pull away if he wanted. When Shaoyu didn't—couldn't, not with hundreds of people watching—Hua Yong's lips pressed against his. Soft, brief, respectful.
The crowd erupted in applause.
Hua Yong pulled back, eyes shining. "Hello, husband," he whispered, voice thick with happiness.
Shaoyu forced a smile. "Hello."
They walked back down the aisle together, Hua Yong's hand warm in his, guests throwing flower petals and calling congratulations. The reception was immediate—more speeches, more toasts, more performance.
Through it all, Hua Yong stayed close. Not hovering, but present—making sure Shaoyu had water, food, a seat when the standing got too much. His hand would occasionally brush Shaoyu's back, gentle and grounding, checking without words if he was alright.
It was considerate.
It was suffocating.
"You doing okay?" Hua Yong asked during a lull between speeches, leaning in so only Shaoyu could hear. "I know today has been a lot."
"I'm fine," Shaoyu said automatically, that tight smile he'd perfected over three months fixed firmly in place.
"You keep saying that," Hua Yong said gently. "But I can tell you're exhausted. We can leave early if you want? Make excuses?"
"We can't leave our own wedding reception early."
"Sure we can. It's our wedding. We make the rules." Hua Yong's smile was warm, conspiratorial. "Plus, you have that placement exam tomorrow morning, right? You should rest."
The fact that Hua Yong remembered his exam schedule—had been paying attention despite Shaoyu's coldness—sent an uncomfortable pang through his chest.
"I'll be fine."
"Okay. But the offer stands." Hua Yong squeezed his hand briefly before being called away by his father to greet more guests.
The reception dragged on until nearly 11 PM. By then, Shaoyu's face hurt from maintaining his smile, his body ached from tension, and the reality of what came next was sitting like lead in his stomach.
The wedding night.
He'd been dreading it all day.
The honeymoon suite at the Plaza Hotel was obscenely luxurious—more space than Shaoyu's entire apartment, decorated in soft creams and golds, a massive bed dominating the center of the room.
Shaoyu stood in the middle of it all, still in his wedding suit, feeling like he might crawl out of his skin.
Hua Yong had gone to speak with some executives who'd cornered him in the lobby—"Just five minutes, I promise," he'd said apologetically—leaving Shaoyu alone with his spiraling thoughts.
This was it. The wedding night. The expectation was clear. They were married now. Husband and husband. And despite Shaoyu's coldness, despite his refusal to engage, Hua Yong had been nothing but kind and patient.
Would he expect...?
Shaoyu's stomach churned. He couldn't do this. Couldn't pretend to want this, to feel something he didn't feel, to—
The door opened. Hua Yong entered, loosening his tie with one hand, looking tired but happy.
"Sorry about that. Mr. Chen wanted to discuss the quarterly reports—terrible timing." He caught sight of Shaoyu's expression and his smile faded. "Hey, are you okay?"
"I'm fine." The automatic response, but his voice came out strained.
"Shaoyu." Hua Yong moved closer, concern etched on his features. "You're shaking. What's wrong?"
Was he shaking? Shaoyu looked down at his hands—yes, trembling slightly. He clasped them together. "Nothing. Just tired."
"You're not 'just tired.'" Hua Yong's voice was gentle but firm. "Talk to me. Please."
But what could Shaoyu say? I'm dreading being alone with you? I'm terrified of what you'll expect? I don't want any of this?
"It's been a long day," he managed.
Hua Yong studied him for a long moment, then his expression cleared with understanding. "You have your placement exam tomorrow morning. 9 AM, right?"
Shaoyu blinked, thrown by the change in subject. "Yes."
"Then you should sleep." Hua Yong started removing his jacket, moving toward the closet. "You need rest if you're going to do well. That exam is important for your job prospects."
"I... what?"
"Sleep." Hua Yong pulled out a blanket and pillow from the closet, setting them on the couch. "You take the bed. I'll sleep here."
Shaoyu stared at him. "You're sleeping on the couch? On our wedding night?"
"You have an important exam tomorrow. You need proper rest, and clearly something is making you uncomfortable." Hua Yong's expression was open, understanding. "We have our whole lives ahead of us, Shaoyu. There's no rush for anything. Your education comes first."
"But people will expect—"
"People can expect whatever they want. This is our marriage, not theirs." Hua Yong smiled softly. "Go on. Get changed, get some sleep. I'll set an alarm to make sure you're up in time for your exam."
Shaoyu stood frozen, unable to process this. Hua Yong was... giving him space? On their wedding night?
"Are you sure?" The question came out small, uncertain.
"Completely sure." Hua Yong's sincerity was evident. "I want you to be comfortable, Shaoyu. Always. That's more important than any tradition or expectation."
Something in Shaoyu's chest twisted—guilt, confusion, something else he didn't want to name.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"Of course." Hua Yong settled onto the couch, which was clearly too small for his frame. "Oh, and Shaoyu? I know today was overwhelming, but... I'm really happy we're married. I hope that someday you'll be happy too."
He said it so simply, so honestly, that Shaoyu couldn't respond. Just nodded mutely and retreated to the bathroom to change.
When he emerged in his sleep clothes, Hua Yong was already settled on the couch, blanket pulled up, eyes closed. But Shaoyu caught the slight wince as he adjusted—the couch was definitely uncomfortable.
Shaoyu climbed into the massive bed alone, turned off the light, and stared at the ceiling in the darkness.
This wasn't what he'd expected. None of it was what he'd expected.
Hua Yong should have been demanding, should have expected things, should have—
But he wasn't. He was sleeping on an uncomfortable couch because Shaoyu had an exam tomorrow. Because he'd sensed Shaoyu's discomfort and prioritized it over any wedding night expectations.
I'm really happy we're married.
The words echoed in Shaoyu's mind as he finally drifted to sleep.
I hope that someday you'll be happy too.
The next morning, Shaoyu woke to the smell of coffee.
He opened his eyes to find Hua Yong already dressed, setting a cup on the nightstand beside him.
"Good morning," Hua Yong said softly. "It's 7:30. I figured you'd want time to get ready and eat something before your exam."
Shaoyu sat up, disoriented. "You got coffee?"
"There's a café downstairs. Also got you a bagel—plain cream cheese, since I wasn't sure what you liked." Hua Yong gestured to a small bag on the desk. "I didn't want to wake you earlier. You looked like you needed the sleep."
"Thank you." The words felt inadequate.
"Of course." Hua Yong grabbed his jacket. "I have a meeting at the office this morning, but I'll be done by noon. Your exam should be finished by then—want to meet for lunch after?"
"I... sure. Okay."
"Great!" Hua Yong's smile was bright. "Text me when you're done and we'll figure out where to eat. Good luck on your exam—you're going to do great."
He left before Shaoyu could respond, the door closing softly behind him.
Shaoyu sat in the massive bed, coffee growing cold in his hands, trying to understand what was happening.
This was his husband. The man he'd spent three months avoiding, resenting, planning to escape from.
The man who'd slept on an uncomfortable couch to make sure Shaoyu got proper rest before an important exam.
The man who'd woken up early to get coffee and breakfast, who'd remembered his schedule, who'd left with an encouraging smile.
It didn't make sense.
None of it made sense.
The placement exam went well—Shaoyu's mind was too full of confusion to properly spiral about test anxiety. When he emerged from the examination room three hours later, he had a text waiting.
How'd it go? Meeting is running a bit long but should be done soon. There's a great Italian place near your campus if you're interested? Or we can go wherever you want. -HY
Shaoyu stared at the message.
He should decline. Should maintain distance. Should—
Italian is fine. Let me know when you're free.
He sent it before he could reconsider.
Perfect! Give me 30 minutes. I'll pick you up at the main campus entrance? Can't wait to hear how the exam went!
True to his word, exactly thirty minutes later, a sleek black car pulled up. Hua Yong emerged, still in his business suit, looking slightly harried but smiling when he spotted Shaoyu.
"Hey! How was it?"
"Fine. I think I did well."
"I'm sure you did amazing." Hua Yong opened the car door for him. "You've been working so hard."
Lunch was... strange. Hua Yong asked about the exam, about his classes, about his thesis defense coming up in two weeks. He listened attentively, asked follow-up questions, seemed genuinely interested in Shaoyu's academic work.
"Have you thought about what you want to do after graduation?" Hua Yong asked as they waited for dessert.
"Not really. I had planned to travel, maybe pursue a PhD, but..." Shaoyu trailed off. But then I got trapped in a marriage I never wanted.
"But now things are different," Hua Yong finished gently. "I understand. But Shaoyu—if you want to do a PhD, you should. Or travel. Or whatever you're passionate about. Being married doesn't mean giving up your dreams."
"Doesn't it?" The bitterness slipped out before Shaoyu could stop it.
Hua Yong's expression flickered—hurt, confusion. "No. It doesn't. At least, it shouldn't. I want you to be happy, to pursue what matters to you."
"Why?" The question came out sharper than intended. "Why do you care so much?"
"Because you're my husband?" Hua Yong said it like it was obvious. "Because your happiness matters to me? Because I want us to build a life together where we both get to be ourselves?"
Shaoyu had no response to that. Just stared at his untouched tiramisu until Hua Yong quietly changed the subject.
The first week of marriage was a study in careful distance.
They'd moved into Hua Yong's penthouse apartment—massive, modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Shaoyu had his own room, his own space, which Hua Yong had quietly arranged without being asked.
"I thought you'd want somewhere that's just yours," Hua Yong had said when showing him. "For studying, or when you need privacy. The master bedroom is mine, but you're welcome there anytime. Whatever makes you comfortable."
Every morning, Hua Yong made coffee—learned after two days that Shaoyu took it black with one sugar. He'd leave for the office by 8 AM, but not before making sure Shaoyu had breakfast.
"You need to eat," he'd say gently. "Especially with your thesis defense coming up. Can't let you run on caffeine alone."
He'd text during the day—not constantly, not demanding, just gentle check-ins.
Hope your writing is going well!
Don't forget to eat lunch
I'll be home around 7. Want me to pick up dinner?
In the evenings, they'd eat together—usually takeout, since neither of them cooked particularly well. Hua Yong would ask about Shaoyu's day, his thesis progress, if he needed anything. The conversations were surface-level, careful, with Shaoyu giving minimal responses and Hua Yong not pushing for more.
After dinner, they'd retreat to their separate spaces. Shaoyu to his room, Hua Yong to his home office or the master bedroom.
It was civil.
It was careful.
It was absolutely nothing like what Shaoyu had expected.
And that made it worse somehow. Because he'd prepared himself to fight against demands, against control, against the cold businessman from the articles.
He hadn't prepared for kindness. For patience. For someone who seemed genuinely content to wait for Shaoyu to open up in his own time.
It made the resentment harder to hold onto.
Made the anger feel less justified.
Made everything complicated.
Two weeks into the marriage, Shaoyu's thesis defense went brilliantly.
He emerged from the examination room to find a text from Hua Yong: How did it go??? I'm sure you were amazing!
It went well. Passed.
That's incredible! We should celebrate. Dinner wherever you want, my treat. I'm so proud of you!
Proud. Like he had any right to be proud of Shaoyu's academic achievements. Like they were actually partners instead of strangers trapped in an arrangement.
Don't need to celebrate. I'm tired.
Of course, you must be exhausted. I'll pick up your favorite from that Thai place and we can have a quiet night in?
How did Hua Yong even know his favorite Thai place? Shaoyu hadn't mentioned it.
Fine.
That evening, Hua Yong came home with enough Thai food to feed four people and a bottle of expensive champagne.
"I know you said no celebration, but completing your Master's is a huge achievement." Hua Yong's smile was warm as he set everything out. "You worked so hard for this. You deserve to acknowledge it."
They ate in relative silence, but Shaoyu caught Hua Yong watching him with that soft expression—pride, affection, something else Shaoyu didn't want to identify.
After dinner, as Shaoyu was retreating to his room, Hua Yong called out.
"Shaoyu? Wait a moment."
Shaoyu turned. Hua Yong was holding an envelope, looking slightly nervous.
"I wanted to give you this. It's not pressure, just... an option. If you're interested."
Shaoyu took the envelope, opened it. Inside was a formal job offer—for a position at Hua Corporation. In Hua Yong's personal division.
"It's a junior analyst position," Hua Yong explained quickly. "You'd be working on ethical compliance and international merger assessments—basically applying what you studied in your thesis to real-world situations. The pay is competitive, and there's room for advancement."
Shaoyu stared at the paper. "You're offering me a job?"
"Only if you want it," Hua Yong said hastily. "I know you probably want to explore other options, and that's completely fine. But I thought—since you focused on ethical business practices, this might be interesting to you. Plus, it would give you practical experience if you decide to pursue that PhD later."
"Working for my husband." Shaoyu couldn't keep the edge from his voice. "That doesn't seem like a conflict of interest?"
"You wouldn't be working for me directly. You'd be in the compliance department—different chain of command. And I made sure HR knew to evaluate your application on merit alone." Hua Yong's expression was earnest. "I genuinely think you'd be good at this, Shaoyu. But it's your choice. No pressure."
"I need to think about it."
"Of course. Take all the time you need." Hua Yong smiled. "But regardless of what you decide about the job, I'm really proud of you for finishing your degree. That's an accomplishment worth celebrating."
He headed to his room, leaving Shaoyu standing in the hallway with a job offer he didn't know what to do with.
That night, Shaoyu lay in his bed—in his own room in his husband's apartment—and stared at the ceiling.
Three weeks of marriage. Three weeks of Hua Yong being unfailingly kind, considerate, patient. Three weeks of gentle questions and respectful distance and genuine care.
It wasn't what Shaoyu wanted.
He didn't want kindness. Didn't want patience. Didn't want someone who seemed genuinely invested in his happiness.
He wanted his freedom. Wanted his life back. Wanted out of this cage, no matter how gilded it was.
Since he couldn't escape through running—his father had made sure of that—he needed a new plan.
If he couldn't leave the marriage by eloping, he'd have to make Hua Yong want to leave it.
Make him hate Shaoyu. Make him realize this marriage was a mistake. Make him file for divorce himself.
It would be cruel. Would hurt someone who'd been nothing but kind to him.
But it was the only option left.
Shaoyu pulled out his phone, creating a new note. Started listing ways to make himself unbearable:
Be cold. More than usual. Reject all attempts at connection. Make his life difficult. Be the worst husband possible. Make him regret this marriage.
He stared at the list for a long time.
From Hua Yong's room down the hall, he could hear soft music playing—classical, gentle. Could imagine his husband reading or working, completely unaware that Shaoyu was planning his campaign to destroy their marriage.
Guilt tried to surface. Shaoyu shoved it down.
This was survival. This was getting his life back.
Even if it meant hurting someone who didn't deserve it.
Even if Hua Yong's kindness was starting to make him question everything.
Even if a small, traitorous part of him wondered what it would be like to actually give this marriage a real chance.
No.
He couldn't afford to think like that.
Couldn't afford to let Hua Yong's gentle patience wear down his defenses.
Couldn't afford to forget that he never wanted this.
Freedom was still the goal.
Just through different means now.
Shaoyu saved the note and turned off his phone.
Tomorrow, he'd start implementing his plan.
Tomorrow, he'd begin the work of making Hua Yong hate him.
Tomorrow, he'd become the worst husband possible.
No matter how much it cost.
No matter who it hurt.
No matter that the thought of Hua Yong's inevitable hurt expression made something in his chest ache.
This was the only way.
It had to be.
Eleven months.
Eleven months of marriage, and Sheng Shaoyu had perfected the art of being two people.
In public, he was the perfect husband. At charity galas, he'd stand beside Hua Yong with a gentle smile, their hands intertwined for the cameras. At business dinners, he'd laugh at appropriate moments, contribute to conversations with intelligent commentary, play the role of supportive spouse with practiced ease.
"You two are such a beautiful couple," people would gush. "So in love."
Shaoyu would smile and thank them, all while feeling nothing.
But in private—in their penthouse where no cameras could see, in the car rides home after events, in the quiet moments when it was just the two of them—Shaoyu was ice.
He'd accepted the job at Hua Corporation. Not because he wanted it, but because it gave him access. Gave him opportunities to make Hua Yong's life difficult in small, calculated ways.
Documents that needed Shaoyu's approval for ethical compliance? He'd delay them for weeks, citing "concerns" that were barely justified. Meetings that Hua Yong requested with his department? Shaoyu would cancel at the last minute, or simply not show up. Reports that were supposed to be collaborative? Shaoyu would submit them late, incomplete, forcing Hua Yong to scramble.
Nothing egregious enough to be called out professionally. Just enough to be frustrating.
Just enough to make Hua Yong's work life harder.
At home, it was worse.
Hua Yong would try to initiate conversation. "How was your day?"
"Fine." Shaoyu wouldn't look up from his phone.
"I was thinking we could have dinner together tonight? Maybe try that new—"
"I have plans."
He never had plans. He'd just go to his room and work, or read, or do anything that meant not spending time with Hua Yong.
Hua Yong would leave notes—little things, sweet things, that Shaoyu would find throughout the apartment.
Hope you have a good day! - HY
Left your favorite coffee in the kitchen
Proud of you for that presentation yesterday
Shaoyu would throw them away without reading them fully.
The worst had been three months ago—the restaurant incident.
Shaoyu had actually initiated plans. Had texted Hua Yong during work: Dinner tonight? That Italian place you like. 7 PM.
Hua Yong's response had been immediate, enthusiastic: Really?? Yes! I'd love that! I'll make a reservation. Can't wait!
Shaoyu had watched the clock tick toward 7 PM from his office. Imagined Hua Yong arriving at the restaurant, getting a table, ordering wine probably, waiting.
At 7:30, his phone had buzzed: I'm here! Take your time if you're running late.
At 8:00: Everything okay? Did something come up at work?
At 8:30: Shaoyu? I'm getting worried. Please let me know you're safe.
At 9:00: I'm heading home. I hope you're alright.
Shaoyu had turned off his phone and gone home at 10 PM, slipping into his room quietly. The next morning, Hua Yong had been in the kitchen as usual, making coffee, his eyes tired.
"Where were you last night?" His voice had been soft, worried. "I was scared something had happened."
"I forgot." Shaoyu had taken the coffee without meeting his eyes. "Work got busy."
"You forgot?" Hua Yong's voice had cracked slightly. "Shaoyu, I waited for three hours. I was terrified that you'd been in an accident or—"
"I said I forgot. Don't make a big deal out of it."
He'd left for work without another word, ignoring the hurt expression on Hua Yong's face.
That night, Hua Yong had tried again. "If you didn't want to have dinner, you could have just said so. I would have understood. You didn't have to—"
"I said I forgot." Shaoyu's tone had been harsh. "Stop being so clingy. It's pathetic."
The word had landed like a slap. Hua Yong had gone very quiet, then nodded slowly. "Right. Sorry. I'll... give you more space."
He had. For weeks after, Hua Yong had pulled back. Still kind, still considerate, but more careful. More distant.
It should have been a victory.
Instead, it had felt hollow.
But Shaoyu had pushed those feelings aside. This was the goal. Make Hua Yong realize the marriage was a mistake. Make him want to leave.
Except Hua Yong never did.
Eleven months of coldness, of cruelty, of deliberate hurt. And Hua Yong never lost his temper. Never yelled. Never showed anything but hurt, and even that he tried to hide.
It was infuriating.
Shaoyu needed something bigger. Something that would finally break through that endless patience.
The opportunity came on a random Tuesday in the office.
Shaoyu was passing by Hua Yong's executive floor—he rarely came up here, his department was three floors down—when he heard voices from the reception area.
"I'm just saying, be careful around Mr. Hua's office," an older woman was saying. Hua Yong's longtime PA, briefing someone new. "There are certain things he's particular about."
"Like what?" The new secretary sounded nervous.
"Well, for one, never touch the mug on his desk. The blue ceramic one."
Shaoyu slowed his pace, listening.
"A mug?" The secretary laughed. "That's oddly specific."
"It was a gift from someone important. Someone he lost." The PA's voice was serious. "He's... very protective of it. I've seen executives get their heads bitten off for even moving it. Mr. Hua is usually patient, but that mug? That's his line. Don't cross it."
"Got it. Don't touch the blue mug."
"I mean it. Someone once accidentally knocked it over—it didn't even break—and Mr. Hua looked like he might actually lose it. I've never seen him that angry."
Shaoyu continued walking, but his mind was working.
A mug. Something that could make Hua Yong—eternally patient, endlessly kind Hua Yong—actually lose his temper.
A smirk crossed his face.
Finally.
That afternoon, Shaoyu made his way to Hua Yong's office.
His husband was in a meeting—Shaoyu had checked his schedule. The office would be empty for at least another thirty minutes.
The PA looked surprised to see him. "Mr. Sheng! Did you need something?"
"Just wanted to drop off some documents for Hua Yong." Shaoyu held up a folder—actual work documents that needed signing. "Is he in?"
"He's in the conference room with the board. Should be back in about twenty minutes. You're welcome to wait in his office if you'd like?"
"Perfect. Thank you."
The PA let him in, and Shaoyu closed the door behind him.
Hua Yong's office was exactly as he'd expected—immaculate, organized, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Expensive furniture, modern art on the walls, everything carefully curated.
And there, on the desk, was the mug.
Blue ceramic, simple design, slightly worn from use. Nothing special to look at. But clearly important.
Shaoyu circled the desk slowly. He wasn't going to break it—that would be too obvious, too cruel even for his current campaign. But touching it? Moving it? That might be enough to finally get a real reaction.
He picked up the mug carefully, examining it. There was something written on the bottom—small characters that looked hand-painted: For my Yong-er, love you always - Hua Hua
Hua Hua. A nickname, clearly. Someone who'd loved Hua Yong enough to hand-paint a mug for him.
Something tightened in Shaoyu's chest, but he pushed it aside. He wasn't going to break it. Just... tease Hua Yong a little when he came back. See that controlled expression crack, maybe get him to actually show some emotion for once.
He set the mug on the edge of the desk, positioning it carefully. Then picked it up again, turning it over in his hands, examining the delicate hand-painting.
Footsteps outside. Rapid ones.
"He went into Mr. Hua's office?" A voice—the secretary. "But Mr. Hua is still in the meeting—"
"He said his husband was looking for him." The PA sounded confused. "Apparently someone told him Mr. Sheng was asking around for him. He practically ran out of the meeting."
Shit.
Shaoyu hadn't been asking around for Hua Yong. Someone must have seen him come up and mentioned it.
The footsteps got closer, faster. Then—
The door burst open with a THUD.
The sudden loud sound made Shaoyu jump, his grip on the mug loosening—
The blue ceramic slipped from his startled hands.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
The mug tumbling through the air.
Hua Yong standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath, his expression bright with hope and excitement—a smile that had been absent for months, genuine happiness at the thought that Shaoyu had sought him out.
That smile freezing as his eyes tracked the falling mug.
The sickening crack as ceramic hit hardwood and shattered into pieces.
Silence.
Absolute, devastating silence.
Shaoyu stood frozen, staring at the broken pieces scattered across the floor. The carefully hand-painted characters visible on one shard: - Hua Hua
When he finally looked up, Hua Yong hadn't moved from the doorway.
His face had gone completely blank. Empty. Like someone had reached in and scooped out everything that made him human, leaving behind only a shell.
Then, slowly, a single tear rolled down his cheek.
Hua Yong didn't make a sound. Didn't sob or cry out. Just that one tear, tracking silently down his face as he stared at the broken pieces on the floor.
He walked forward mechanically, his movements careful and precise, like he was afraid he might shatter too if he moved too quickly. He crouched down, his expensive suit pants touching the floor, and began picking up the pieces with trembling hands.
"Hua Yong—" Shaoyu's voice came out strangled.
Hua Yong carefully gathered each shard, cradling them like they were the most precious things in the world. His hands were shaking badly enough that Shaoyu could see it from where he stood.
Another tear fell, landing on one of the blue ceramic pieces.
"I didn't mean—it was an accident—" Shaoyu tried again, fear creeping into his voice. This wasn't the reaction he'd wanted. This wasn't anger or frustration. This was something much worse.
Hua Yong finally looked up at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, wet with tears he wasn't letting fall, and the expression there made Shaoyu's chest constrict painfully.
It wasn't anger. It wasn't even hurt.
It was defeat. Complete, utter defeat.
Hua Yong took a slow, shaky breath. Let it out. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet Shaoyu almost didn't hear it.
"Please leave."
"Hua Yong, I'm sorry, I didn't—"
"Please." Another tear fell. Hua Yong's hands tightened around the ceramic pieces, and Shaoyu saw blood—he'd cut himself on the sharp edges, but he didn't seem to notice or care. "Just... leave."
"Let me help you—you're bleeding—"
"Shaoyu." Hua Yong's voice cracked on his name. "Please. I'm asking you to leave. Please."
The desperation in that last word stopped Shaoyu cold. He took a step back, then another, his own hands shaking now.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
Hua Yong didn't respond. Just stayed crouched on the floor, holding the broken pieces, tears falling silently.
Shaoyu turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.
The PA was standing at her desk, her face pale. She'd clearly heard everything. When she saw Shaoyu, her expression shifted to something cold—disgust, maybe, or anger.
Behind him, through the closed door, Shaoyu heard Hua Yong's voice, muffled but audible:
"Cancel all my meetings for today. And please—" his voice broke, "—please leave. Close the door behind you."
The PA nodded at Shaoyu—a curt, furious nod—before grabbing her things and walking past him without a word. She knocked once on Hua Yong's door.
"I'm leaving now, Mr. Hua. The door will be locked from outside. No one will disturb you."
"Thank you," came the quiet response.
The PA gave Shaoyu one last withering look before heading to the elevator. The entire floor had gone quiet—everyone had heard something, and word was clearly spreading.
Shaoyu stood there, frozen, staring at the closed door.
Then he heard it.
A sob. Muffled, like Hua Yong had pressed his hand to his mouth trying to hold it in, but unmistakable.
Then another.
And another.
The sound of someone breaking apart.
"I'm sorry, Hua Hua," Hua Yong's voice came through the door, broken and raw. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't—I didn't protect it—I'm sorry—"
Another sob, this one louder, more desperate.
"I promised I'd keep it safe. I promised. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—"
The words repeated like a mantra, over and over, each iteration more broken than the last.
Shaoyu stood outside that door, listening to his husband fall apart, and felt something crack inside his own chest.
He'd wanted a reaction. Had wanted to break through Hua Yong's endless patience.
He'd gotten exactly what he wanted.
And it was the worst sound he'd ever heard.
Shaoyu fled to the elevator, his vision blurring, the sound of Hua Yong's sobs following him down the hallway.
Hours passed.
Shaoyu sat in his own office, unable to work, unable to think about anything except the look on Hua Yong's face. The tears. The defeat. The way he'd cradled those broken pieces like they were someone he loved.
For my Yong-er, love you always - Hua Hua
Someone Hua Yong had lost. Someone who'd made him a mug with careful, loving hands. And Shaoyu had—
His phone buzzed. Multiple messages from colleagues, asking what happened, why Hua Yong had cancelled everything, if something was wrong.
Shaoyu ignored them all.
Around 8 PM, the executive floor was silent. Most people had gone home. Shaoyu knew he should leave too, should go back to the penthouse—their home—but he couldn't bring himself to move.
What would he even say?
Another hour passed.
Shaoyu was staring blankly at his computer screen when he heard voices in the hallway. He recognized one—Shen Wenlang, Hua Yong's friend from university, one of the few people outside of family that Hua Yong was close to.
"Jesus, A-Yong, your hands—"
"It's fine. I cleaned them." Hua Yong's voice was hoarse, like he'd been crying for hours. Which he probably had been.
"It's not fine. When did you—how long have you been—" Wenlang sounded distraught. "Your PA called me. Said you texted asking if I was still in the office. She sounded worried."
"I'm okay. I just—" Hua Yong's voice cracked. "I can't drive right now. Could you take me home?"
"Of course. Of course I'll drive you home. But A-Yong, what happened? She said something about—"
"Not here. Please. Can we just—can we go?"
"Yeah. Yeah, let's get you out of here."
Footsteps, moving toward the elevator.
Shaoyu stayed hidden in his office, listening to them leave. Heard the elevator ding, the doors close.
Then silence.
He sat there for another hour before finally forcing himself to leave.
The penthouse was dark when he arrived. Quiet.
But Hua Yong's shoes were by the door. His jacket hung on the rack.
He was home.
Shaoyu stood in the entryway, staring at Hua Yong's closed bedroom door.
No light underneath.
No sounds.
He wanted to knock. To apologize. To explain that he didn't mean to break it, that it was an accident—
But would that matter? He'd been holding it in the first place. Had picked up the one thing everyone knew not to touch. Had been planning to use it to provoke Hua Yong.
The breaking might have been an accident.
But everything leading up to it had been deliberate cruelty.
Shaoyu went to his own room.
Lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
And for the first time in eleven months of marriage, truly understood what he'd done.
Not just today. All of it.
The missed dinner where Hua Yong had waited for three hours, terrified something had happened.
The delayed documents, the cancelled meetings, the cold responses.
The word "pathetic" that had made Hua Yong flinch.
Eleven months of systematic cruelty toward someone who'd done nothing but try to make him comfortable.
Someone who'd slept on a couch on their wedding night because Shaoyu had an exam.
Someone who'd remembered his favorite foods, his thesis topic, his schedule.
Someone who'd offered him a job that actually aligned with his academic interests.
Someone who'd left gentle notes and sent encouraging texts and asked about his day.
Someone who'd kept trying, kept hoping, kept reaching out despite Shaoyu's coldness.
And today, Shaoyu had broken something precious. Something from someone Hua Yong loved. Someone named Hua Hua who'd painted that mug with careful hands and loving words.
Had stood there while Hua Yong crouched on the floor, bleeding, crying, apologizing to someone who couldn't hear him anymore.
I'm sorry, Hua Hua. I couldn't—I didn't protect it—I'm sorry—
Shaoyu rolled over, pressing his face into his pillow.
He'd wanted to make Hua Yong hate him.
Instead, he'd broken him.
And now, lying in the dark, Shaoyu realized something that made his chest ache:
He didn't want Hua Yong to hate him anymore.
He just wanted to take it all back.
Every cruel word. Every cold response. Every deliberate hurt.
But especially today.
Especially that moment when hope had lit up Hua Yong's face as he rushed into his office, thinking Shaoyu had finally sought him out—
Only to watch something precious shatter on the floor.
Shaoyu closed his eyes, but all he could see was that single tear tracking down Hua Yong's cheek.
All he could hear were those broken sobs through the door.
I'm sorry, Hua Hua. I promised I'd keep it safe. I promised. I'm so sorry—
And Shaoyu realized, with devastating clarity:
The person who needed to apologize wasn't Hua Yong.
It was him.
It had always been him.
One week.
One week since Shaoyu had shattered the blue ceramic mug. One week since he'd heard Hua Yong break down behind closed doors. One week since he'd realized, too late, what he'd been doing.
The first three days had been silent.
Hua Yong hadn't spoken to him at all. Would leave for work before Shaoyu woke up, return after he'd gone to bed. The penthouse felt like a mausoleum—two people existing in the same space but never occupying it together.
Shaoyu had tried, on day two. Had knocked on Hua Yong's bedroom door with apologies ready on his tongue.
"Hua Yong? Can we talk? I want to explain—"
"I'm tired, Shaoyu. Maybe another time."
The voice through the door had been flat. Empty. Nothing like the warm concern Hua Yong usually carried.
Day three, Shaoyu had caught him in the kitchen—Hua Yong making coffee with mechanical efficiency, his movements careful and controlled.
"About the mug," Shaoyu had started. "I really am sorry. It was an accident—"
"It's fine." Hua Yong hadn't looked at him. "These things happen. It was just a mug."
Just a mug.
The lie had been so blatant, so painful, that Shaoyu hadn't known how to respond. Had watched Hua Yong take his coffee and leave without another word.
Then, on day four, everything changed.
Hua Yong was suddenly... normal. Back to his usual self, as if nothing had happened.
"Good morning! I made extra coffee—thought you might need it for that big presentation today."
The cheerful voice, the gentle smile—it was all back. Like someone had flipped a switch.
"I, uh, thanks," Shaoyu had managed, thrown off balance.
"How did you sleep? You looked tired yesterday. Are you getting enough rest?"
The concerned questions. The attentive care. All of it returned as if the past week—the broken mug, the tears, the three days of silence—had never happened.
It was unsettling.
At work, Hua Yong was back to his usual professional demeanor. When they passed in the hallways, he'd smile and nod. In meetings, he'd engage with Shaoyu's reports like always, offering thoughtful feedback and genuine interest.
The blue mug's empty space on his desk was the only evidence that anything had happened at all.
By day five, Shaoyu's confusion had morphed into frustration.
Why wasn't Hua Yong angry? Why wasn't he demanding answers, or explanations, or at minimum some acknowledgment of what Shaoyu had done?
Why was he acting like everything was fine?
"I was thinking we could try that new Thai place for dinner," Hua Yong said on day six, cheerful as ever. "If you're free? No pressure if you're busy."
"Sure," Shaoyu had agreed, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Dinner had been pleasant. Hua Yong had asked about his day, laughed at appropriate moments, been the picture of a content spouse.
And Shaoyu had sat there, eating pad thai, wanting to scream.
Why aren't you angry? Why aren't you hurt? Why are you acting like I didn't destroy something precious to you?
But he couldn't ask. Couldn't bring it up without admitting he'd heard Hua Yong's breakdown, the sobbing, the desperate apologies to someone named Hua Hua.
So he'd smiled and nodded and played along with the charade.
By day seven, the frustration was building to something dangerous inside Shaoyu's chest.
The dinner invitation came on a Saturday morning.
"My father wants us to come to the ancestral home for dinner tonight," Hua Yong said over breakfast, his tone carefully neutral. "Extended family will be there. It's... well, it's a family dinner."
Shaoyu looked up from his coffee. "Do I have to go?"
Something flickered in Hua Yong's expression—so quick Shaoyu almost missed it. Hurt, maybe? But then it was gone, replaced by that gentle understanding.
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Hua Yong said softly. "I know family dinners can be tedious. If you'd rather stay home, that's completely fine. I'll make excuses."
The easy acceptance grated on Shaoyu's nerves. "I'll go."
"Are you sure? Because there's no pressure—"
"I said I'll go." It came out sharper than intended.
Hua Yong's smile was soft, grateful. "Okay. Thank you. Dinner's at seven. We should probably leave by six-thirty to account for traffic."
"Fine."
The day passed in a blur of weekend errands and mounting irritation.
Shaoyu had agreed to go to this dinner. Had actually, for once, committed to doing something with Hua Yong's family. It should have felt like progress—like maybe he was trying to be less of a terrible husband.
Instead, it felt like another performance.
At 4 PM, a client called. A compliance issue with one of the international mergers—Shaoyu's specialty.
"I just need an hour of your time," the client said. "We're at the office now. Can you come in?"
Shaoyu checked the time. If he left now, dealt with it quickly, he'd be back by six. Plenty of time.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes."
He left without telling Hua Yong—who'd gone to his room to get ready. They'd talk in the car, or Shaoyu would just meet him there. It was fine.
The compliance issue was not fine. Was, in fact, a nightmare of regulatory violations that took two hours to untangle. By the time Shaoyu looked at his phone again, it was past seven.
Multiple missed calls from Hua Yong. One text:
Hey, it's 6:45. Are you still at home? I'm ready whenever you are.
Then, at 7:00:
I'm heading out now. Since you're not here, I assume you decided not to come. That's okay—I understand. A message would have been appreciated so I wasn't waiting, but it's fine. Drive safe if you're out. -HY
Shaoyu stared at the message. There was no anger in it. No sarcasm. Just a quiet disappointment that somehow felt worse than any accusation.
Fuck.
He typed quickly: I'm so sorry. Client emergency at the office. Lost track of time. I'm leaving now—I'll meet you at the ancestral home.
The response came immediately: You don't have to. It's already late. Stay home and rest.
I said I'll be there. Give me forty minutes.
No response to that.
Shaoyu grabbed his things and ran.
The Hua ancestral home was impressive—a sprawling traditional estate on the outskirts of the city, all elegant architecture and manicured gardens. Shaoyu had only been here once before, for the wedding reception.
He parked hastily and hurried toward the entrance. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door.
The dining room was full of people—Hua Chengren at the head of the table, various family members Shaoyu vaguely recognized from the wedding, and Hua Yong sitting rigidly near his father, his posture unnaturally stiff.
All eyes turned to Shaoyu.
"Ah! Xiao Sheng!" Hua Chengren's voice boomed, genuinely pleased. "We weren't sure you'd make it! Come, come, sit down!"
"Xiao Sheng is here!" An aunt—Shaoyu thought her name was Meiling—stood up excitedly. "Finally! We've been dying to get to know you properly. The wedding was so hectic, we barely got to talk!"
Suddenly, Shaoyu was surrounded. Family members greeting him warmly, asking him to sit, offering him food. The contrast to their earlier uncertainty was startling.
"Come sit next to Ah-Yong," another uncle said, gesturing to the empty seat beside Hua Yong. "You two should be together."
Shaoyu moved toward the seat, catching Hua Yong's eye. His husband's smile was in place, but there was something tight about it. His shoulders were rigid, his hands clasped tightly on the table.
"You came," Hua Yong said softly as Shaoyu sat down.
"I said I would. Sorry I'm late."
"It's okay." That gentle understanding again. "Work is important."
"Xiao Sheng, tell us about yourself!" Aunt Meiling leaned forward eagerly. "We know you work at Hua Corporation, but what exactly do you do?"
"I'm in the ethical compliance department. International merger assessments, mostly."
"Oh, how fascinating! And you just finished your Master's, didn't you? Ah-Yong mentioned you graduated with honors!"
Shaoyu blinked, surprised. "Yes. A few months ago."
"Such a smart match for our Ah-Yong," another relative chimed in. "Both so accomplished!"
The dinner continued with the family eagerly engaging Shaoyu—asking about his thesis, his work, his thoughts on various business trends. They were warm, welcoming, genuinely interested in getting to know him.
"Xiao Sheng, have you thought about pursuing a PhD?" an uncle asked. "With your academic background, you'd be perfect for it."
"I've considered it," Shaoyu admitted. "Maybe in a few years."
"Wonderful! Education is so important. Don't you think, Ah-Yong?"
"Yes," Hua Yong said quietly. His plate was barely touched, and Shaoyu noticed his knuckles were white where his hands gripped his napkin. "Very important."
Throughout the meal, Shaoyu couldn't help but notice the difference in how the family treated them. They were effusive with Shaoyu—calling him Xiao Sheng with affection, including him in every conversation, making him feel genuinely welcome.
But with Hua Yong, there was something else. Not hostility exactly, but a certain... distance. Politeness without warmth. They asked him about business matters with professional courtesy, but there was none of the familial affection they showed Shaoyu.
And Hua Yong sat through it all with that rigid posture, that careful smile, barely eating, barely speaking unless directly addressed.
It was like watching someone endure rather than enjoy a family gathering.
After dinner, as the adults moved to the sitting room for tea, a small boy—maybe six or seven—ran up to Shaoyu.
"Gege! Will you play with me?" The child tugged on Shaoyu's sleeve. "Everyone else is boring and talks about business. Please?"
"Ah-Ming, don't bother Uncle Sheng—" the boy's mother started.
"It's fine," Shaoyu said, surprising himself. The kid was cute, and honestly, playing with a child seemed preferable to sitting through more stilted adult conversation. "What do you want to play?"
"Blocks! I'm building a castle! Come on!"
Ah-Ming dragged Shaoyu toward a corner of the sitting room where toys were scattered. As Shaoyu settled on the floor to help build the castle, he saw movement from the corner of his eye.
Hua Chengren had stood up, catching Hua Yong's attention. "Ah-Yong, a word. In my study."
It wasn't a request.
Hua Yong's already rigid posture went even stiffer. "Of course, Father."
They walked toward the hallway, and Shaoyu watched as they entered a room at the far end. The door closed firmly behind them. Then, unmistakably, he heard the click of a lock.
"Gege! You're not helping!" Ah-Ming's complaint pulled Shaoyu's attention back.
"Sorry, sorry. Where should this block go?"
But even as he helped build the castle, Shaoyu's mind was on that closed door. Locked. Why would Hua Chengren lock the door to his own study?
Twenty minutes passed. Thirty. Ah-Ming's castle grew elaborate, but Shaoyu's attention kept drifting to the hallway.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the study door opened.
Hua Chengren emerged first, his expression neutral. Then Hua Yong.
Something was wrong.
Hua Yong's face was perfectly composed—that same careful smile in place—but his movements were off. He walked slowly, carefully, like each step required concentration. His hand briefly touched the wall as if steadying himself.
Their eyes met across the room.
For just a moment, Shaoyu saw something flash in Hua Yong's expression—pain, maybe, or exhaustion, or something else he couldn't identify. But then it was gone, replaced by that gentle smile.
Hua Yong made his way over, and Shaoyu noticed he was moving with deliberate caution. Not limping exactly, but definitely struggling.
"Ready to go?" Hua Yong asked, his voice light despite whatever was clearly wrong. "It's getting late."
"Uh, yeah." Shaoyu stood, brushing off his pants. "Sorry, Ah-Ming. We have to leave."
The boy pouted but accepted it with good grace. They said their goodbyes to the family—more warm farewells for Shaoyu, polite nods for Hua Yong—and headed to the car.
In the parking area, Shaoyu noticed Hua Yong's hand trembled slightly as he unlocked the car. And when he lowered himself into the driver's seat, there was a barely perceptible wince.
"Are you okay to drive?" Shaoyu asked before he could stop himself.
"I'm fine." The automatic response. "Just tired. Long day."
But as Hua Yong started the car, Shaoyu saw his grip on the steering wheel was tight—too tight, like he was holding on for support.
What had happened in that study?
They drove in silence for ten minutes. Shaoyu's mind churned with questions he didn't know how to ask. The locked door. Hua Yong's careful movements. That flash of pain in his expression.
He opened his mouth to ask—
Hua Yong's phone rang, the car's Bluetooth picking it up. Wenlang's name flashed on the screen.
"Sorry," Hua Yong said, glancing at Shaoyu apologetically. "I need to take this."
He answered. "Hey, Wenlang."
"A-Yong." Wenlang's voice was serious, concerned. "How'd it go?"
"Fine. We're heading home now."
"'Fine' isn't an answer. Was it bad?"
A pause. Hua Yong's hands tightened on the wheel. "Can we talk about this later?"
"Fuck. It was bad." Wenlang sounded furious. "A-Yong, you can't keep letting him—"
"Wenlang. Not now. Please." Hua Yong's voice was strained, and Shaoyu saw his jaw clench. "Shaoyu is in the car."
"Oh. Shit, sorry." Wenlang's tone shifted, became more careful. "Right. Okay. But we're talking about this tomorrow. I mean it."
"I know."
"And you're taking your medication tonight, right? Don't try to be tough about it."
"I will."
"Promise me."
"I promise." Hua Yong's voice was soft, tired. "Wenlang, I'm okay. Really."
"You're a terrible liar." But Wenlang's tone was fond now, worried. "Call me if you need anything. Even if it's 3 AM."
"I will. Thank you."
"Love you, didi."
"Love you too, gege."
The call ended, leaving heavy silence in the car.
Shaoyu had so many questions. Medication? What medication? What had Wenlang meant about Hua Yong's father? What was he "letting him" do?
"Hua Yong—" he started.
But when he looked over, Hua Yong's expression was carefully neutral again. That mask firmly back in place.
"Sorry about that. Wenlang worries too much sometimes."
"What did he mean about—"
"Just some business concerns. Nothing important." The dismissal was gentle but absolute. "How did you like Ah-Ming? He seems to have taken to you."
The subject change was deliberate, and Shaoyu found himself going along with it. Talking about the kid, the castle they'd built, safer topics.
But his mind wouldn't let go of what he'd seen. The locked study. Hua Yong's careful movements. That phone call.
Something was very wrong.
The city lights blurred past the windows, and Shaoyu felt exhaustion creeping in. The late client meeting, the dinner, the mounting confusion and concern—it was all catching up with him.
His eyelids grew heavy.
"You can sleep if you want," Hua Yong said softly. "I'll wake you when we get home."
"I'm okay," Shaoyu mumbled, but his eyes were already closing.
"It's fine. Rest."
The last thing Shaoyu heard before sleep claimed him was Hua Yong's quiet voice, almost too soft to catch:
"At least one of us should get some peace."
Shaoyu woke to the engine cutting off. Disoriented, he blinked in the dim light of their building's parking garage.
"We're home," Hua Yong said gently. "Sorry, I know I said I'd wake you before we arrived, but you looked like you needed the sleep."
Shaoyu sat up, his neck stiff from the angle he'd been sleeping at. "What time is it?"
"Almost eleven." Hua Yong was already getting out of the car, moving with that same careful precision from earlier.
Shaoyu fumbled with his seatbelt, still half-asleep. By the time he got it undone and opened his door, Hua Yong was at his side.
"Come on," Hua Yong said, his voice warm despite the exhaustion in his eyes. "Let's get you upstairs."
"I can walk," Shaoyu protested, but his legs were unsteady—that weird half-asleep weakness that came from dozing in uncomfortable positions.
"I know you can." Hua Yong's arm wrapped around his waist, steadying him. "But humor me."
They made it to the elevator, Shaoyu leaning more heavily on Hua Yong than he'd intended. The warmth of his husband's body, the gentle way he was being supported—it was so different from the coldness Shaoyu had been maintaining for months.
In the penthouse, Shaoyu headed toward his room, but his exhaustion-muddled brain wasn't cooperating with his coordination. He stumbled slightly over nothing.
"Okay, come here," Hua Yong said, amusement in his voice despite everything. Before Shaoyu could protest, Hua Yong had scooped him up—one arm under his knees, one supporting his back.
"What are you—I can walk—"
"Shh. You're half-asleep and going to hurt yourself." Hua Yong carried him toward his bedroom with surprising ease, though Shaoyu noticed the slight tension in his movements, like it was costing him more effort than he let on.
In Shaoyu's room, Hua Yong gently set him on the bed. Shaoyu's eyes were already closing again, the soft mattress and exhaustion pulling him under.
He felt Hua Yong remove his shoes, pull a blanket over him with careful hands.
Then, so soft Shaoyu almost thought he imagined it, warm lips pressed against his forehead. A gentle kiss that lingered for just a moment.
"Sleep well," Hua Yong whispered.
Footsteps moved away. The door closed with the softest click.
And Shaoyu, balanced on the edge of consciousness, felt something crack in his chest.
For eleven months, he'd been cruel. Had pushed Hua Yong away at every turn. Had stood him up, ignored him, deliberately hurt him. Had broken something precious and irreplaceable.
And Hua Yong had just carried him to bed. Had tucked him in with gentle hands. Had kissed his forehead like he was something to be treasured.
Despite everything.
Despite all of it.
Shaoyu's last conscious thought before sleep claimed him completely was a question that would haunt him into the morning:
What have I done?
And more urgently, more desperately:
What happened in that study?
But there were no answers in the darkness. Just the lingering warmth of that forehead kiss and the growing certainty that Shaoyu had been so wrong about everything.
So desperately, devastatingly wrong.