Chapter Text
From the moment he stepped into that restaurant, he knew he had made a mistake.
No—from the moment he answered that phone call on his sister's phone, that had been his first mistake. Gao Ming had always known how to manipulate him, knew exactly which words to use, which lies to tell. His father had never once acted with good intentions. Never.
And yet.
And yet Gao Tu had fallen into his trap again. This time, one that could cost him his life. His baby's life.
The restaurant wasn't the small, run-down place near his home he used to go with his dad on rare occasions. Nor was it anywhere he had visited before. It wasn't lavish, wasn't filled with rich customers. It was big but quiet, with tables spaced far apart—designed for privacy, for conversations no one else was meant to hear.
It was near HS, but far enough that his mind hadn't screamed suspicion when his father led him in that direction. Near HECI, but not close enough that he could walk there easily. It sat in an area where no one seemed to linger, where the only sounds were cars passing through without stopping.
A place designed to trap him.
He hadn't realized it. Not until they walked in. Not until the waitress led them to the table in the farthest corner—the one his father had reserved. Not until his shocked eyes met the ones of the man he had been trying to run from all this time.
Shen Wenlang.
There he was. Looking at him with an intensity he couldn't bear, his eyes shining with a torrent of feelings he couldn't possibly understand. And he felt betrayed, he felt like a knife had stabbed him from the back, because—
His father had brought the S-class alpha here.
His father had known Shen Wenlang was looking for him.
He had orchestrated that whole meeting to trap him there.
Nausea rose in his throat. His head throbbed behind his eyes. He suppressed it all—the sickness, the pain, the terror—and walked beside his father in silence. He didn't dare look at Wenlang. Didn't dare meet those eyes. He just made himself small. Invisible. Nothing.
He sat, wanting to disappear more than anything. He didn't know why Wenlang was there. He didn't understand why his father had dragged him here. But the sickening feeling in his stomach did not go away.
His eyes dropped to the polished wood of the table. His shoulders were rigid with tension he couldn't hide. His breathing was too controlled, too careful to be natural.
Run. The thought screamed through his mind. Run. Now. Before—
His skin prickled. His covered scent gland throbbed beneath the suppressants. Every instinct screamed that something was wrong.
"President Shen." His father's voice cut through the silence—too friendly, too eager. Gao Tu's hands curled into fists against his thighs. "Sorry for the wait. This kid had something come up. Delayed us a bit."
"Is that so?"
Cold. Wenlang's voice was so cold. So distant.
Gao Tu kept his eyes down. He didn't need to look up to know Wenlang was watching him. He could feel it—that heavy attention, that focused displeasure. Wenlang was probably looking at him with disdain. With disgust. With all the hatred he'd always had for omegas, finally directed at the right target.
"Yeah, truly sorry about that." His father stopped for a moment. Gao Tu felt the weight of his gaze, crawling over him like insects. Looking for something. Assessing.
Then his father chuckled.
Low. Satisfied.
Gao Tu's stomach turned.
"President Shen, you said you’ve got something to talk to Gao Tu about." His father's tone shifted. Sharper. More businesslike. The friendly mask slipped, revealing the predator beneath. "Well, here he is. I brought him. So then—"
Another pause. Deliberate. Dramatic.
"Let's lay everything out today."
The words landed like stones in still water. Ripples of dread spread through Gao Tu's chest. He still didn't look up. Didn't move. Didn't breathe.
But he felt it—the trap snapping shut around him.
"Gao Tu is pregnant." His father's voice was almost cheerful. "And it's yours."
The words hung in the air like smoke. Thick. Poisonous. Impossible to escape.
For one frozen moment, no one moved. Then—
"—What?"
Shen Wenlang's voice was ice. Sharp enough to cut. Sharp enough to bleed on.
Gao Tu's heart stopped.
The world tilted sideways. Colors bled together. The restaurant's soft lighting became too bright, too harsh, burning into his retinas like surgical lights.
He closed his eyes.
Just for a second. Just for one single second.
He pressed his eyelids together harder. So hard he saw stars bursting behind them. Trying to block out the world. Trying to block out Wenlang's voice, his father's voice, the truth hanging in the air between them.
His head throbbed—a deep, pounding ache behind his eyes that matched the frantic rhythm of his heart. The sharp static sound in his ears grew louder, drowning out everything else. He wanted to believe, for one second, that it was all a nightmare. That the moment he woke up, it would all evaporate into nothing.
"Gao Tu." Wenlang's voice. Cutting through the static. Sharp. Demanding. He could feel the Alpha’s gaze on him—heavy and burning. "Is that true?"
Gao Tu forced his eyes open, dizziness making his nausea worse for just a moment, but he forced it down. He forced his hands to stop trembling, forced his composure to appear calm, although his body and mind were screaming from the inside.
His mouth opened. Then closed. His throat sealed itself shut.
Deny it. He needed to deny it.
"No." The word came out strangled. "No, I'm a beta."
He forced himself to look at Shen Wenlang, to appear convincing, to once again sell the lie he had been selling for the past 10 years. But he knew by Shen Wenlang’s expression that he didn't believe a single word he said.
Bullshit.
He knew that expression, that anger, that coldness, that disappointment…
He knew.
Wenlang knew.
Gao Tu's heart, which had already been pounding, somehow found a way to beat faster. Harder. Like it was trying to escape his chest entirely.
"Aiya… President Shen." Gao Ming's voice slithered through the tension. "Here's the report I got from the hospital. Take a look."
Gao Tu's blood ran cold.
The report.
His eyes snapped toward his father. Toward the papers in his hand. White. Official. Stamped with the hospital's logo.
No.
The word echoed in his skull, small and hollow and utterly useless.
Gao Ming slid the papers across the table toward Wenlang. "If you still don't believe me, then go to the hospital and run a DNA test on the amniotic fluid. Although I'm a hundred percent sure the baby is yours."
Wenlang snatched the papers from the table.
Gao Tu watched his hands—those elegant, capable hands—crumple the edges with the force of his grip. Watched his eyes move across the page. Watched his expression shift through emotions too fast to name.
Disbelief. Anger. Something that might have been horror.
Of course. The thought was distant. Numb. Like it was happening to someone else. Of course he's horrified. An omega. A baby. A trap.
That's what Wenlang saw when he looked at omegas. Scheming. Manipulative. Trapping.
And now Gao Tu had proven him right.
His face was pale. Too pale. Grayish, like old paper. His hands were pressed against his stomach—protective, desperate—but his skin had gone clammy, cold sweat beading at his temples, trickling slowly down his spine beneath his shirt.
He couldn't breathe.
The air in the restaurant had thickened, turned to water, turned to concrete. His lungs expanded and expanded but nothing came in. His chest was too tight. His heart was too loud.
"—President Shen is such a promising young man." Gao Ming's voice continued, smooth and businesslike, utterly indifferent to the way his son was dying two feet away from him. "I'm sure you don't want a child with questionable origins."
Questionable origins.
Gao Tu's vision blurred at the edges.
His baby. His tiny, fragile, high-risk baby. Being described as questionable. As something to be rid of.
"Ten million." His father's voice was almost cheerful now. Closing the deal. "Ten million to have us rid of the baby. Not one cent less."
Us.
Us… get rid of the baby.
Like Gao Tu was part of this. Like he'd agreed. Like his body, his child, his life was just a transaction his father could broker.
The room tilted.
Gao Tu's hands pressed harder against his belly. The baby—if it could even feel anything yet, if it knew—fluttered faintly. Or maybe that was just his own pulse, racing, faltering, racing again.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.
Gao Tu couldn't see Wenlang's face. Couldn't look up. Couldn't hear what the alpha was saying through the fog of his mind. He knew the alpha was speaking, was speaking to him, but he didn't hear anything. He couldn't.
He couldn’t hear how his baby’s life was reduced to an amount. Couldn't hear how Shen Wenlang was probably screaming at him for being a scheming omega, trying to trap him for money, like he always said, like he always suspected. A filthy, worthless, scheming omega.
He stood.
The chair scraped against the floor, loud in the quiet. Both men looked at him—his father with irritation, Wenlang with something Gao Tu couldn't read and didn't dare try to.
"I apologize" His voice came out strangled. He cleared his throat. Swallowed. "I need to use the bathroom." He didn't wait for an answer. He didn't stop at the sound of Shen Wenlang calling his name. His legs carried him quickly to the first bathroom he could find.
The door swung shut behind him.
He made it two steps before his legs gave out.
His hands caught the sink, barely. His reflection stared back at him from the mirror—pale, sweating, eyes wild. He looked like a stranger. Looked like prey.
His breath came in short, sharp gasps now. His chest hurt. His fingers were numb. Cold sweat soaked his collar, his back, his palms.
Ten million.
His father was selling his baby.
Gao Tu's stomach heaved. Nothing came up. Just dry, wrenching spasms that left him shaking, gasping, clinging to the sink like it was the only solid thing in the world.
His phone.
He fumbled in his pocket. Hands shaking so badly he could barely unlock the screen.
Qing. He needed Qing.
The phone rang once, then twice, and was picked up by the third ring, the soft voice of his little sister coming through like a calming wave.
"Ge? What's wrong?"
Gao Tu's throat closed. He forced himself to breathe, to calm down, to focus on his sister’s voice.
"Ge. Ge. Talk to me."
"Xiao Qing." the sound came out cracked, way too low, like speaking louder would make him finally break down. "Qing, listen to me. Pack. Now. We need to leave Jianghu immediately." He ordered with all the strength he could muster. He hung up the phone. He didn't wait for his sister to answer. He couldn't.
He couldn't bear with the questions that would surely come, he couldn't give an answer to anything without completely breaking down, not yet.
He slid the phone into his pocket once again, and let himself sink onto the cold tiles of the bathroom. The shock of it against his skin helped—just barely—to pull him back from the edge of complete dissolution.
Think. Think. You need to think.
His father was out there. Wenlang was out there. The deal was on the table—ten million for his baby's life—and the moment he walked back through that door, it would be real. He would have to sit there and listen to the rest of it. He would have to hear Wenlang's response. He would have to watch his baby be negotiated away like merchandise.
He couldn't.
Gao Tu's eyes lifted from the tiles. Scanned the bathroom. Small. Generic. A single stall. A sink with a mirror above it. Plain white tiles.
A window.
Above the sinks. Sliding window. Frosted glass. Big enough. Not huge, but big enough.
No. The thought was instant. That's insane. You're pregnant. You could hurt the baby. You could—
His father's voice echoed in his memory: Ten million to have us rid of the baby.
If he stayed, the baby would die anyway. One way or another. Either his father would find a way to force the abortion, or Wenlang would agree to the deal, or kill the baby himself. And he… he would be discarded like the worthless omega he'd always known Wenlang thought he was.
All of those ended with him losing his baby.
All of them.
Gao Tu stood.
He stepped onto the small ledge beneath the sink. Gripped the window frame. Pushed.
The window slid open.
Cold air rushed in. The alley below. Dark. Narrow. Full of dumpsters and shadows.
He looked down. Calculated the drop. Doable. He'd done worse before, back in school, back when he had to run from the very same man he was now once again running from.
He climbed onto the sink ledge. Pulled himself up. Through the window.
It was tight—had to turn sideways, suck in his stomach, protect the baby as best he could—but he fit. His ribs scraped against the frame. His hip caught. He pushed harder.
And then he was through.
For one terrifying second, he was falling. Air rushing past. Stomach lurching.
Then his feet hit the ground.
Wrong angle. Too much force. His ankle twisted beneath him—a sickening roll, a jolt of pain so sharp it stole his breath.
He bit down on his own lip to keep from screaming. Tasted blood.
But he was down. In the alley. Alive.
Run.
Gao Tu pushed himself up. Took a step.
Pain exploded up his leg—white-hot, nauseating. His ankle screamed. He stumbled, caught himself on the wall.
No. No, no, no.
He looked down. His ankle was already swelling. Angry and red even through his sock.
He couldn't run on that. Couldn't walk on that. Not far.
But he had to try.
He took another step. Another. Each one agony. Each one a prayer.
Get home. Get Qing. Disappear.
The alley opened onto a side street. He didn't recognize it. Didn't care. Just picked a direction and moved, limping, stumbling, gasping for air.
His ankle screamed with every step. The pain was blinding, radiating up his leg, through his hip, into his spine. But adrenaline was a hell of a drug, and terror was a hell of a motivator, and his baby's life was worth more than his ankle, more than his body, more than everything.
He kept moving.
One step. Another. Another.
The streets blurred together. Shops. People. Cars. None of it mattered. Nothing existed except the next step, and the next, and the next.
He didn't stop.
Just kept moving.
°°°
Shen Wenlang knew something was wrong.
He could feel it in his chest—a pull, a tug, like a string connected directly to his heart, yanking him toward the bathroom. Toward Gao Tu. Fifteen minutes. It had been fifteen minutes, and Gao Tu hadn't returned.
Something was wrong. He knew it with a certainty that made his skin prickle.
He stood up.
"—as I was saying, the payment structure is very straightforward—" Gao Ming's voice droned on, oblivious. Then stopped. "Hey. Mr. Shen. Where are you going?"
Wenlang didn't answer. Just walked.
A hand grabbed his arm.
He looked down. Gao Ming's fingers wrapped around his sleeve. Grimy. Desperate. The touch made his skin crawl.
"We haven't finished discussing the details of the payment." Gao Ming's voice had an edge now. "Sit down."
Wenlang's temper flared.
He'd been trying. All day. All night. That fucking psycho Hua Yong had told him to keep calm, to think before he acted, to control himself. And he'd tried. He'd sat through this nightmare of a meal. He'd listened to Gao Ming's oily voice. He'd kept his hands flat on the table while his child was being sold.
But this—
"Let go of me." His voice was low. Dangerous. "He's been gone for more than fifteen minutes."
Gao Ming's grip didn't loosen. "Aiya, the boy is pregnant. Pregnant people take their time in there. You don't have children, you wouldn't know—"
"Bullshit."
Wenlang yanked his arm free. Hard enough that Gao Ming stumbled back, surprise flickering across his face.
"Mr. Shen—!"
But Wenlang was already walking.
The bathroom door was closed. He knocked. Once. Twice. Three times.
Silence.
"Gao Tu."
Nothing.
"Gao Tu, come out. We need to talk."
Still nothing. Just the hum of the ventilation fan. The drip of a faucet somewhere.
His heart rate spiked.
"Gao Tu." Louder now. Sharper. "Open the door."
No response. Not a sound. Not a movement.
"For fuck's sake— If you don't open this door, I'm going to break it down."
Silence.
He didn't wait any longer. One kick was enough. The lock splintered. The door swung open, bouncing off the wall behind it.
Empty.
The bathroom was empty.
Wenlang's brain struggled to process what his eyes were seeing. The stall door opened, empty inside. The sink. The mirror. The—
The window.
Above the sinks. Sliding window. Wide open.
He crossed the room in two strides. Gripped the window frame and looked down with a lump on his throat. .
Alley. Dark. Narrow. Fire escape in the distance. And nothing else. No sign of Gao Tu. No sign of anything except…
He breathed in, deep, forcing his senses to sharpen, to pick up every single trace of that smell that lingered, barely there, but noticeable enough for an S-class alpha.
Sage. Distressed. Sour with fear. Underneath it, something else…something metallic.
Blood.
The word hit him like a physical blow.
His stomach churned. His heart stopped. Started again. Stopped.
He was here. He was right here. He stood where I'm standing. And then he—
He climbed out the window.
He jumped.
He's pregnant and he jumped out a fucking window—
His chest constricted. Painfully. Like someone was squeezing his heart in their fist. His pheromone gland throbbed behind his neck, pulsed with a desperation he couldn't name.
Gao Tu was gone.
Gao Tu had run.
From him. From his father. From the deal. From everything.
He thinks I agreed…
The realization hit like a physical blow. He thinks I sat there and let his father—he thinks I want the baby dead—
He thinks I'm exactly the monster I pretended to be.
The thought was acid in his veins.
All those years. All those cruel words about omegas. All that armor he'd built to protect himself from feeling anything. Gao Tu had heard every word. Had sat across from him in meetings, handed him his tea, stayed late to help—all while believing Wenlang despised everything he was.
And now—
Now Gao Tu was out there. Hurt. Bleeding. Carrying their baby. Running from a nightmare Wenlang had created.
Fix this. You have to fix this. You have to find him.
He pulled out his phone. Hands shaking so badly he could barely unlock it. Scrolled through contacts. Found the one he needed.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Five—
"What." Hua Yong's voice was flat. Annoyed. "I'm in the middle of cooking. Shaoyou will be home in an hour. This better be—"
"Gao Tu disappeared."
Silence.
"Hua Yong." His voice was cracking. Falling apart. "He was here—in the bathroom—and he—the window is open—he jumped, Hua Yong, he's pregnant and he jumped and I can't—I can't find him—"
"Wenlang." Hua Yong's voice cut through the panic. Sharp. Commanding. "Breathe."
"I can't—you don't understand—"
"I understand that you're useless to me if you pass out. Breathe."
Wenlang sucked in air. Forced it out. Sucked in more. The world stopped spinning. Just barely.
"Good. Now tell me what happened. Slowly. What did you say to him this time?"
"I didn't—!"
The defensiveness exploded from his chest, raw and furious. Because this time—for once—he hadn't said anything stupid or cruel to the beta—omega. He had tried to stay calm. He had tried to ask Gao Tu directly. He had tried to reach him.
But that scumbag—
"His father brought him here. To a restaurant. He had a medical report—confirming Gao Tu is omega, and that he—" His voice cracked. "He's pregnant. Eight weeks. It's mine."
Saying it aloud made it real. Made it his.
A baby. His baby. Gao Tu's baby. Their baby.
"And his father—" Rage surged, barely contained. "He offered ten million. To abort the baby. Right there. In front of him. Like he was selling livestock."
Another silence. Shorter this time.
"And Gao Tu heard this." wasn’t he fucking following with the story? Of course he heard, he was there. For fuck’s sake.
"Yes. He heard everything. He sat there and heard his own father—and then he went to the bathroom and now he's gone, Hua Yong. He jumped out a window. He's pregnant and he jumped."
"And you want me to find him."
It wasn't a question. But Wenlang answered anyway.
"Yes. Yes. Hua Yong, please. You have to help me. Close the streets. Use your people. Whatever it takes." He swallowed. Swallowed again. Forced the words out past the crushing weight in his chest. "I'm begging you."
The word hung in the air.
Begging.
Hua Yong was quiet for a moment. Then, when he spoke, there was something new in his voice—amusement. Cold, predatory amusement.
"Say that again."
Wenlang's jaw tightened. His pride screamed. His alpha instincts howled. But he was past pride. Past everything. There was only one thing that mattered.
"I'm begging you, Hua Yong. Please. Help me find him."
A soft laugh. Pleased.
"Hearing you beg is very satisfying, Shen Wenlang." A pause. "You'll owe me for this. Big."
"I don't care. Just find him." On the other side of the line, Hua Yong gave a soft, amused chuckle. He had expected Wenlang to be his stupid and emotionally constipated self and let the bunny go without realizing he wouldn't come back, not on his own. But apparently, one of his neurons was working correctly that day. Miracles…
"I'll call Chang Yu. We'll track the bunny down."
"Bunny?"
"Your omega. Running. Scared. Pregnant. It's fitting." Hua Yong's voice was calm and amused, like he was talking about a mare pet instead of his fucking omega. He was so irritating Wenlang wanted to throw the phone against the wall. “But, don't worry, A’Lang. Bunnies are easy to catch when you know how they think."
The line went dead.
And Wenlang felt his anger flare. That psycho just called his omega a fucking bunny. Had fucking found his situation amusing. Had heard him beg and break and still had the nerve to fucking chuckle. That bastard.
He should be angry. Should be furious. Should be—
But at this moment, he couldn’t care less. Didn't care what Hua Yong called Gao Tu, or how he found his situation in that twisted head of his. Didn't care what it would cost, because he knew nothing Hua Yong did came without strings. Didn't care about anything except finding Gao Tu before—
Before what? Before he disappeared for good? Before he hurt himself more? Before the baby—
He couldn't finish the thought. But the thing that twisted his heart the most, was that he never told him—
I never told him
The thought was a knife.
Because he didn't know what he would have said. Didn't know how to put words to the chaos in his chest. But he should have tried. Should have said something. Should have reached across that table and taken his hand and told him—
Told him what?
That he'd been looking for him all that time? That he was wrong about all the things that he said about omegas? That none of it applied to him, not even remotely? That he couldn’t fathom a life without him in it? That he wasn’t replaceable and never will be? That every time Gao Tu looked at him with those round, quiet eyes—something in Wenlang's chest, something he couldn’t yet explain, ached?
Fuck.
If Gao Tu disappeared—if Gao Tu and the baby disappeared—there was nothing left. Nothing worth anything.
He turned and walked out of the bathroom.
Gao Ming was waiting, face twisted with impatience. "President Shen—"
"Your son is gone." Wenlang's voice was ice. Flat. Deadly. "He jumped out a window to get away from you. From this. From me." He stepped closer. Gao Ming stepped back. "If anything happens to him, if anything happens to that baby— I will hold you personally responsible. And I will make sure you regret it for the rest of your very short life."
He didn't wait for a response. Didn't care what excuses or protests the man might muster. He just turned and walked.
Out of the private dining area. Past the startled waitstaff. Through the restaurant's front door and into the cool night air.
The city hummed around him—distant traffic, the low thrum of neon signs, the murmur of late-night pedestrians. Normal sounds. Ordinary sounds. As if the world hadn't just cracked open beneath his feet.
Somewhere out there, Gao Tu was running. Scared. Hurt. Pregnant with his child.
Wenlang stood on the sidewalk, chest heaving, hands shaking. He didn't know which direction to go. Didn't know where to even start.
His phone chimed inside his pocket.
Goosebumps exploded across his skin. He fumbled for the device—so fast, so desperate, he nearly dropped it on the concrete beneath his feet.
Hua Yong's name on the screen. A single message.
“Wait where you are. When bunnies feel they are being chased, they run and hide.”
Wenlang stared at the words. Read them once. Twice. Three times.
Wait?
Just... wait?
"What the fuck does that mean?" The words escaped aloud, harsh and broken. "Just wait? Just wait?"
His alpha instincts howled. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to move, to hunt, to find what was his. The urge to chase was almost overwhelming—a primal, burning need to track and pursue and claim.
But Hua Yong's words echoed in his skull.
“When bunnies feel they are being chased, they run and hide.”
Gao Tu was already running. Already terrified. Already convinced Wenlang wanted his baby dead.
If Wenlang chased him—if Gao Tu sensed an alpha on his trail—he would run faster. Farther. Would find some hole to crawl into where no one would ever find him.
And then—
Then he would be gone forever.
Fuck.
Wenlang's fist connected with the nearest wall. Pain exploded through his knuckles—sharp, grounding, welcome. He welcomed it. Needed it. Needed something to focus on besides the crushing weight in his chest.
Wait. He said wait.
But he couldn't just stand here. Couldn't stay in this deserted street, outside that fucking restaurant, doing nothing. His skin crawled with the need to act. His muscles trembled with suppressed energy.
Wait where you are.
No, he couldn't. But maybe—
HS.
He could go to HS. The building was close—walking distance. His car was there, in the underground parking garage where he'd left it this morning, before everything went to hell.
At least there he could do something. At least there he could be ready. At least there he wouldn't be standing uselessly on a street corner while his omega bled somewhere in the dark.
He started walking.
Each step felt wrong. Each step pulled him farther from where Gao Tu might be. His instincts screamed in protest, demanding he turn around, demanding he hunt.
But Hua Yong would find him. Hua Yong always found what he was looking for.
That terrifying little enigma with his cold eyes and his amused smiles and his infuriating habit of being right.
He'll find him. Wenlang clung to the thought like a lifeline, because it was the only one he had.
°°°
Hua Yong ended the call and stared at his phone for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips.
Begging. Shen Wenlang—the proudest, most emotionally constipated alpha he knew—had begged. Multiple times. On the phone. Like a desperate fool.
It was almost enough to make this interruption worth it.
Almost.
Shaoyou would be home in about an hour, expecting a perfect meal, and instead he'd find his enigma fiance standing in the kitchen with his apron still on, dealing with someone else's drama.
Wenlang owes me so big for this.
"Chang Yu."
His assistant appeared in the doorway within seconds. "Boss?"
"Pull up all footage near HS Building. Find where Secretary Gao ran to."
Chang Yu's eyebrows rose slightly—a rare show of surprise—but he didn't question. Just nodded. "Yes, boss."
Hua Yong turned back to his stove. Lifted the lid of the pot of soup he had been making for his Mr.Sheng, the smell was fine. He lifted the wooden spoon to his lips, tasting the broth.
It was good, it just needed a few more minutes to be ready, to be perfect for his alpha and his pup.
He stirred absently, mind already drifting to the conversation he had minutes earlier with Wenlang
Gao Tu. Pregnant. Scared. Running.
The bunny.
It was almost cute, really. That omega had been hiding for years—hiding his gender, hiding his pregnancy, hiding his feelings for that idiot alpha. And now the mask had shattered, and he was bolting through the city like prey.
But prey ran in predictable patterns. Prey always ran home.
"Boss." Chang Yu's voice from the other room. "I found him."
Hua Yong set down the spoon. Wiped his hands on a towel. Walked to where Chang Yu stood with a tablet in hand, footage frozen on a familiar figure.
Gao Tu. Limping badly. Moving through side streets with obvious pain.
"Secretary Gao went north from the restaurant, then took a taxi two streets over." Chang Yu pointed at the screen, tracking the route. "I traced the license plate. The taxi is heading to his apartment."
Hua Yong smiled.
"Predictable."
"Do you want me to send someone to intercept?"
"No." Hua Yong's eyes stayed on the screen. "Send people to stay near Secretary Gao's apartment. But don't approach him. Don't let him see anyone following. If he finds out he’s being followed, he will bolt." although, he doubted that he could with a swollen and twisted ankle.
Chang Yu nodded, excusing himself to go and make all the necessary calls.
More minutes passed. Hua Yong watched the footage in a loop. Gao Tu limping, Gao Tu hailing a Taxi, the images were grainy, but he could see the determination in those round bunny eyes. Even with his ankle sprained, the omega hadn't stopped. He was resilient. And he had a plan. Those were not the eyes of someone who didn’t have an escape plan and route traced.
“Where are you planning to run to, xiǎo tùzǐ (little bunny)?”
"Boss." Chang Yu came inside the living room again, phone in his hand. "The taxi stopped. He got out early, at a small park about one block from his apartment."
Hua Yong tilted his head. Interesting. Not home. Not running straight to safety. Why?
"Show me."
Chang Yu pulled up another feed, captured from the camera of a local store. A small park with few benches, tall trees and streetlights that barely worked, casting pale circles of light on concrete paths.
And there, on a bench under a tree, sat Gao Tu.
Alone. Hunched over. Face buried in his hands. His shoulders shaking, even in the grainy footage.
Crying.
Hua Yong watched for a long moment.
The bunny was crying. In a park. Alone. Pregnant. Sprained ankle. Terrified of the alpha who loved him but didn't have the brains to realize it.
How… sad.
He felt... not nothing. That was interesting. Not sympathy exactly—he didn't do sympathy. But something. A flicker of recognition, perhaps. For someone else who'd spent years trying to hide his true nature. Someone else who'd loved in secret. Someone whose world was falling apart.
"Don't approach him," Hua Yong said. "Keep eyes on him. I'm going."
Chang Yu blinked. "You're going personally, boss?"
Hua Yong smiled. That cold, sharp smile that made most people step back.
"If he sees someone strange, he might run, he might collapse. He needs someone known to him, someone non-threatening to approach. That way it will be easier to catch him and take him to Wenlang" Chang Yu raised an eyebrow at the “non-threatening” statement, but did not question it.
Hua Yong walked to the bedroom and changed quickly—not into anything special, just comfortable clothes that screamed soft and delicate omega. A soft, light-colored sweater, loose pants. No sharp edges, no intimidating lines.
He checked his reflection. Hair slightly messy. Eyes wide. Expression soft and slightly worried.
Perfect.
An omega coming to help another omega. Non-threatening. Safe. The kind of person a scared bunny might actually trust.
He covered his scent gland with a patch and used his pheromone modifier to smell softer, soothing, omega.
"Keep tracking," he told Chang Yu on his way out. "I want to know if he moves."
"Understood, boss." was the only answer his alpha secretary gave before following him to the garage.
Time to catch a bunny.
°°°
The taxi ride was a blur.
Gao Tu gave the driver his address—his real address, the one he shared with Qing, the one his father knew and Wenlang probably knew and everyone knew—and then stared out the window at the passing city.
His ankle throbbed with every bump in the road. The pain was constant now, a deep, burning ache that radiated up his leg. He'd loosened his shoe, but it didn't help. Nothing helped.
His hands pressed against his belly.
Still here. Still safe. Still—
The baby was too small to feel. He knew that logically. At eight weeks, it was barely the size of a raspberry, tucked deep inside him, unaware of the chaos outside. But he pressed his hands there anyway. He needed to feel something. He needed to believe his baby was now safe.
"Sir? Sir, are you okay?"
The driver's voice, concerned, made him look up for a brief moment, made him realize that he'd been crying. Silent tears streaming down his face, dripping onto his lap.
"I'm fine." His voice came out hoarse, small. "I'm fine." he repeated, unsure if he wanted to convince the driver or himself. For some reason, he couldn't stop the tear from falling, and he felt pathetic. Because he wasn't a crier, he wasn't someone who broke down easily, he wasn't weak, but now—now he felt as if the whole world had crumbled around him, and he could breathe, couldn't stop the tears, couldn't stop the sobs that were threatening to come out any time soon.
He couldn't go home like this.
Couldn't walk through that door with tear tracks on his face and a limping leg and this look in his eyes that would make Qing panic. She'd take one look at him and lose her mind. She was just a kid, a kid that had been out of hospital for barely one week, who didn’t deserve to be weighed down by his own problems.
If he saw him like that, he knew he wouldn't be able to handle her panic on top of his own. Couldn't be the one to calm her down when he was falling apart himself.
He needed a minute. Just a minute. To breathe. To compose himself. To become the older brother again, the one who was steady and strong and fine. The one she can lean on.
"Stop here." The words came out before he'd fully formed them.
The driver glanced at the street. "Here? This is just a park, sir."
"I know. Stop here."
The taxi pulled over. Gao Tu fumbled for his phone to pay—his hands were shaking so badly he could barely open WeChat, but in the end, he managed to pay and climb out.
The park was small. Quiet. And barely lit. A place he knew no one would see him, no one would find him. He limped to the bench. Sat down, and then… he was alone.
His hands found his belly again. Pressed.
I'm sorry. The thought was for his baby. For the tiny life that had done nothing wrong, that didn't deserve any of this. “I'm so sorry. I tried to protect you. I tried to keep you safe. I tried—”
The tears came again.
He buried his face in his hands and let them fall. He cried until he had nothing left. His body hurt, his scent gland was screaming, his pulse was quickening, and his head was dizzy. His scent was escaping little by little, and he knew the suppressants he had taken that afternoon were failing already, even though he had taken the largest dose he could, against what the doctor had recommended, what he had warned.
He had been stupid. He shouldn't have gone, he shouldn't have taken those suppressants, he shouldn't have fallen into his father’s trap, he shouldn't have answered that call. He was stupid.
He tried to breathe, tried to calm himself, tried to stop the tears still falling. Qing was still waiting for him, he needed to regain his composure soon.
He took a long breath, and then another, trying to calm himself down, trying to muster up the strength to stand up and walk that last block home.
He didn't hear the footsteps approaching.
Didn't notice anyone near until a shadow fell over him, and a voice—soft, familiar, impossible—said:
"Secretary Gao."
Gao Tu's head snapped up.
For one frozen second, his mind went completely blank.
Hua Yong…
Standing there. In the park. In the middle of the night. Dressed in a soft sweater and loose pants, looking exactly like he always had—beautiful, delicate, those big eyes wide with what looked like concern.
The omega who'd worked at HS. The one Shen Wenlang and Sheng Shaoyou had fought over. The one who'd resigned less than 2 months ago, the one that had been hospitalized and Wenlang had visited, the one that had taken a picture of him that night at X Hotel, the one that knew, and had let him choose, to tell the truth or bury it, and— it the end, he had chosen to bury it and run.
Gao Tu’s shoulders tensed, his eyes lowered to the concrete, without the courage to face the omega, the only one Shen Wenlang had tolerated, the only one he had cherished, the one he fought for with Sheng Shaoyou. And the one— his throat closed, and he could feel a wave of nausea coming up— the one Shen Wenlang had used.
Gao Tu had heard the rumors. Had listened to it from Shen Wenlang himself, spoken crudely in front of Sheng Shaoyou. About the tracking device. About the revenge. About X Hotel and what Wenlang had done to him, had let others do to him. He never wanted to believe those words were true, but no one has ever denied it.
And now— now that same omega was there.
In a park. At night. In front of him, looking at him.
"What—" Gao Tu's voice came out strangled. He cleared his throat. Swallowed. "What are you doing here?"
Hua Yong tilted his head slightly. That familiar gesture—innocent, confused, achingly omega. His eyes glistened with concern and something else he couldn't read.
"I was in the area," he said softly. "And I saw you. I heard you crying. I had to make sure you were okay."
In the area. At night. Near a random park.
No. It made no sense. None of it made sense.
"You—" Gao Tu's hands pressed against his belly. Instinctive. Protective. "Why would you be here?" he remembered the omega’s address, he had been there, it was nowhere near his home.
"I was visiting a friend. Nearby." Hua Yong's eyes looked sincere, innocent, sweet, concerned. The kind of gaze that will have any alpha believing his every word. "When I saw you... you looked so hurt. I couldn't just walk away."
Visiting a friend. At this hour. In this neighborhood.
Gao Tu's mind raced. It was possible. Barely possible. But—
He looked at Hua Yong. Really looked. At the concern in his teary eyes. At the way he stood—slightly hunched, small, non-threatening.
An omega. Just like him. Someone who understood what it was like to be hurt by alphas. Someone who'd survived something terrible and somehow was still standing in front of him, the secretary of the alpha who had hurt him.
Maybe—
Maybe he really was just being kind.
Gao Tu's walls cracked. Just slightly.
"I—" His voice broke. "I can't—I don't—"
"It's okay." Hua Yong took a slow step closer. Then another. "You don't have to explain. I know what it's like to need to be alone. To need to cry where no one can see." He gestured vaguely at the bench. "Can I sit? Just for a moment. You don't have to talk."
Gao Tu stared at him.
Every instinct screamed danger. But that was ridiculous. Hua Yong was an omega. A victim. The last person who would ever hurt anyone.
He nodded. Just once. Small.
Hua Yong sat beside him on the bench. Close enough to be comforting. Far enough to give space.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, the younger omega spoke softly. "Your ankle. It's swollen."
Gao Tu looked down. His ankle was a mess—red, puffy, straining against his shoe.
"I fell," he whispered.
"I know." Hua Yong's voice was gentle. "I saw you limping. Is it broken?"
"I don't think so. Just—" He stopped. Swallowed. "Just sprained."
"And the baby?"
The question was so soft. So careful. So normal.
Gao Tu tensed.
"How did you—"
"I can smell it." Hua Yong's voice was barely a whisper. "The changes in your scent. I'm omega too, remember?" A sad smile. "We notice these things."
Right. Of course. Another omega would know. Would understand.
"The baby is—" Gao Tu's voice cracked. "The baby is fine. I think. I don't—I can't feel it yet. It's too small. But I think—I hope—"
He couldn't finish.
Hua Yong's hand hovered near his shoulder. Not touching. Just there.
"You're running from something," he said quietly. "Someone."
Gao Tu didn't answer. Couldn't answer.
"Shen Wenlang." Hua Yong said the name like it hurt. "He's the father." It wasn't a question, but Gao Tu nodded anyway.
"He—" The words tumbled out before he could stop them. "He wants the baby dead. He—my father—they made a deal. Ten million to—to—"
His throat closed.
Hua Yong was very still.
"Wenlang agreed to this?"
Gao Tu opened his mouth to say yes, to confirm that Wenlang had wanted it, had wanted him to abort, but— did he really? Did he really agree? Could he with 100% certainty confirm that Wenlang had agreed to his father’s demand? "He—I couldn't really hear him. My mind— I was—"
He didn't know why, but at that moment, he broke. Sobs tore through him, ugly and raw. He buried his face in his hands and shook apart.
Beside him, Hua Yong was quiet.
When Gao Tu finally looked up, Hua Yong's face was strange. Hard to read. His eyes were dry now—distant—and something flickered in them that Gao Tu couldn't name.
"Secretary Hua?"
Hua Yong blinked. The expression vanished. Concern returned. But it felt wrong. His body screamed at him to run, to hide. Danger.
But that was stupid. Hua Yong was—Hua Yong could never—
His ankle was screaming. His head was spinning. And underneath everything, a familiar wrongness was creeping through his veins—the telltale sign that his suppressants were failing, that his body was crashing, that soon he wouldn't be able to hide what he was.
Hua Yong watched him. Just watched. Those big eyes taking in everything—the sweat on Gao Tu's brow, the tremor in his hands, the way he kept pressing against his belly.
"You're sick," he observed. No concern. Just... observation. "You took suppressants, and they are failing" Gao Tu inhaled a sharp breath. The omega beside him could have guessed, he could have guessed his situation, but he sounded certain. He sounded clinical. And that sent a shiver down his spine.
"I need to—I have to get home before—"
Before his scent gave him away completely. Before the omega pheromones flooded out, uncontrollable, undeniable. Before his body gave out. Before anyone passing by could smell exactly what he was.
Hua Yong's lips curved slightly. Just a tiny movement.
"That's inconvenient."
Gao Tu blinked. The words were so flat. So... detached.
"I should—" He tried to stand. His ankle screamed. He collapsed back onto the bench. "I need to—"
"You need to sit down before you fall down." Hua Yong's voice was calm. Reasonable. "Your ankle is destroyed. Your suppressants are failing. You're in no condition to run anywhere."
Gao Tu stared at him.
Something was wrong. The way Hua Yong was looking at him—not with sympathy, not with fellow-omega concern, but with something else. Something cold. Assessing.
Like Gao Tu was a puzzle he was solving.
"Secretary Hua—"
"Just Hua Yong is fine. I don't work there anymore, remember?" That tiny smile again. "You, on the other hand, seem to have made quite an exit from your own position. Jumping out windows. Very dramatic."
Gao Tu's blood ran cold.
"How did you—"
"I know a lot of things." Hua Yong tilted his head again, studying him. "For example, I know Shen Wenlang is currently losing his mind looking for you. I know your father tried to sell your baby for ten million. I know he had your medical records to prove it all to Wenlang."
Each word landed like a slap.
"How—" Gao Tu's voice was barely a whisper. "How do you know all that?"
Hua Yong's smile widened. Just slightly. Just enough to show teeth.
"Wenlang called me." He said it casually. Like it was nothing. "Begged, actually. It was very entertaining."
Gao Tu's mind reeled.
Wenlang called him. Wenlang called Hua Yong—the omega he'd destroyed, the one he'd used and discarded—and begged for help.
"Why would he—" Gao Tu shook his head. "After what he did to you—after the hotel—why would you help him?"
Hua Yong was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was light. Almost amused.
"People believe a lot of things, Secretary Gao. Things that aren't always true." He leaned back on the bench, relaxed, at ease. "What do you think happened at that hotel?"
Gao Tu's throat closed.
The tracker. The revenge. Three days of—
"You don't have to answer." Hua Yong's voice was almost gentle. But his eyes—his eyes were ancient. Knowing. "I'm just curious what story you've been telling yourself."
"I—" Gao Tu swallowed. "He used you. He—they said he locked you in that suite and—"
"And what?" Hua Yong prompted. Mildly interested. Like he was asking about the weather.
Gao Tu couldn't say it. Couldn't describe those horrors to the person who'd lived through them.
Hua Yong watched him struggle. That faint smile never left his face.
"Interesting," he murmured. "You really do believe it."
Gao Tu's heart pounded.
"Believe what?"
"That Wenlang is capable of those things." Hua Yong's head tilted. "That he could lock an omega in a room and let men use them during their heat" He paused. Deliberate. "You've worked for him for years. Sat across from him in meetings. Remembered his tea preferences like is law. Stayed late. And yet, you believe he's capable of that?"
The words hung in the air.
Gao Tu wanted to say yes. Needed to say yes. Because if Wenlang wasn't capable of those horrors, then—
Then what had happened to Hua Yong? Why did he say all those things to Sheng Shaoyou? Why did Wenlang never deny it?
Gao Tu's voice cracked. "I heard him tell Sheng Shaoyou. Every detail. He admitted it."
Hua Yong's expression flickered. Something passed behind those eyes—amusement, maybe, and a flicker of… disappointment.
“And here I thought you were the smart one in that relationship…” The mask fell off at that moment. His expression transformed from concern to blankness, to disappointment and boredom. He might have overestimated the bunny. Oh well…
At that moment, he could so easily just tell the bunny the truth, tell Wenlang has been acting under his orders all along, but where was the fun in that? Seeing that little omega’s thoughts break apart in his mind, trying to figure out the truth, was at least a bit entertaining.
"People say a lot of things, Secretary Gao. Especially when they're playing a role." He stood. Brushed off his sweater. "But that's not really the point right now, is it?"
Gao Tu stared up at him.
The world was spinning. His suppressants were failing faster now—he could feel it, the chemical walls crumbling, the omega beneath struggling to break free. His scent was leaking through, sweet and desperate and wrong.
"The point," Hua Yong continued, looking down at him with those cold, ancient eyes, "is that you're sitting in a park, alone, injured, your body collapsing, carrying an alpha's baby, with no way to get home and no one to help you."
Gao Tu's vision blurred at the edges.
"I have my sister," he whispered. "Qing. She's waiting—"
"Your sister doesn't know you're here." Hua Yong's voice was calm. Matter-of-fact. "By the time you limped to her, you'd collapse. If you haven't already."
Gao Tu's hands pressed harder against his belly. It was burning. The baby—too small to feel, too small to know—was depending on him. And he was failing.
"Why are you here? How—" The words came out broken. Desperate.
Hua Yong looked down at him for a long moment. Then he smiled. That same cold, amused smile.
"Wenlang begged me to find you." He said it like it was obvious. "It was very satisfying. And I was curious about the bunny that made Shen Wenlang fall apart."
Bunny.
The word was wrong. Cold. Dismissive.
Gao Tu tried to stand. He needed to go. Run from there.
He took one step, then another, and by the third, his ankle gave way.
A pair of strong arms caught him from behind and goosebumps exploded through his entire body. He tried to push the omega away, tried to break free, but his body felt heavy, numb. He was burning all over, his belly— his baby—
"You have to calm down, Secretary Gao." Hua Yong's voice came out soft, calm, like he was trying to placate a frightened animal. "Your baby doesn't need you running on a destroyed ankle. Your baby needs you alive and conscious. You need to breathe, slowly."
"I can't—" His voice broke. "I can't let him find me. He'll—he wants—He wants the baby dead. I can’t let him—"
Hua Yong gave out a sigh. Both Shen Wenlang and that bunny were stupid. He lifted the omega by the arms, ignoring the protest trying and failing to break free from his grip. He seated the bunny on the bench, giving an eye roll at the way he was panting, trying to stand again and failing. Stubborn.
"And if I told you that you were wrong? That Wenlang has been losing his mind for the past hour, tearing apart the city to find you, begging for help to find you?"
Gao Tu shook his head. "He hates omegas. He hates children. He's always—"
"He's an idiot." Hua Yong cut him off. "An emotionally constipated, self-destructive idiot who's spent years building walls because he has severe daddy issues." A pause. "But he doesn't kill babies, Secretary Gao. He doesn't even kill spiders."
The words didn't fit. Couldn't fit.
"You don't know that. He—"
Gao Tu's head spun. His vision kept blurring. His heart raced too fast, then too slow.
Hua Yong watched him, smelled him, he could hear the pulse, smell the sour and bitter desperation, the wrongness in the smell.
"You're going into pheromone shock." Great, now he really would be late to his dinner with Mr. Sheng.
Hua Yong pulled out his phone. He needed Chang Yu to come and get them to the hospital as soon as possible.
"What—" Gao Tu's voice was barely a whisper. "What are you doing?"
"Calling for help." Hua Yong answered matter of factly. "You're in no condition to argue. Just try to stay awake. It will be no good for both of us if you lose consciousness. "
Gao Tu felt his eyes heavy, his breath coming out short, panting. He was burning all over. He needed to call his sister. She was waiting. She would be worried.
"Chang Yu. The car. We're taking the bunny to HECI."
Chang Yu… he recognized that name. X Holdings secretary, everyone in the industry knew that name. And Hua Yong, the omega in front of him—
No. It was impossible.
“W—Who are you?” The words came out rasped, his hands fisting in his lap to contain the pain that was stabbing his abdomen.
"Someone who made a promise to a very annoying Alpha." He glanced over his shoulder. "Chang Yu. Take him"
He felt a pair of arms lifting him, but his vision couldn't focus. He couldn't focus on anything other than his body was betraying him, his baby was in danger.
He could hear Hua Yong talking, a car engine, noise, white noise.
And then, everything turned dark.