Chapter 36

Locked together in a kiss, they rolled onto the bed. A cool draft brushed over the back of Zuo Nian’s thighs just as Duan Baisui’s voice rumbled low by his ear. “Legs together.”
He’d just promised that as long as Zuo Nian behaved, he wouldn’t “hit” his butt again. Zuo Nian hurried to press his legs tightly closed.
Heat seared along the skin of his thighs. He bit the quilt and let out a helpless whimper. This kind of slow torture was almost worse—it made him think that maybe… maybe…
When he turned his head, tears shimmered at the corners of his eyes, red spreading from his lids to the very tips of his lashes. He looked thoroughly, beautifully bullied.
“Gege,” he choked out, voice shaking, “you can just… just hit me.”
“And then we’ll have to sleep apart again, won’t we?” Duan Baisui drawled, hand stroking his waist in wicked comfort.
“N‑no, we won’t…” Zuo Nian said in broken bursts. “Gege, I… I think I’m sick.”
“Where does it hurt?” he asked softly.
“I’m not even in heat,” Zuo Nian whispered, mortified. “But I still… still want Gege. I want Gege to… hit me…”
“Baby, you really are strange,” Duan Baisui murmured, his voice low and magnetic, slipping under Zuo Nian’s skin. “You were the one who insisted on squeezing into my bed every night. Then you were the one who said I ‘hit’ you and wanted to sleep apart. And now you’re the one begging me to ‘hit’ you again. How can you be this contrary?”
His breath warmed the shell of Zuo Nian’s ear. “So,” he asked, “can you tell me what you *really* want?”
Panting hard, Zuo Nian shifted on his own, seeking out the heat he craved. “I want Gege,” he answered honestly.
Outside, the early spring wind was still edged with chill. Inside, the room was steeped in sultry heat. The crystal chandelier blazed for most of the night, and soft, breathless pleas spilled from behind the bedroom door, adding a flush of color to the cold, dark hours.
The next morning, Duan Baisui woke early. Zuo Nian, having been thoroughly tormented the night before, was still fast asleep.
Remembering how he’d woken up in the night and searched the bed for A‑Beibei, Duan Baisui slid quietly out from under the covers and went to the walk‑in closet to fish the two dolls out of hiding.
Last night, Zuo Nian had solemnly promised him in bed that no matter what, he wouldn’t bring up sleeping apart again.
So, having gotten his guarantee, Duan Baisui decided it was time to return the dolls.
Carrying them next door to the guest room, he stood in the doorway for a while, considering where to put them so it wouldn’t be too obvious whose “fault” it had been.
Just then, his ears caught the sound of footsteps and a hand on the door handle outside.
With a quick dive, he flattened himself on the floor beside the bed.
Rubbing his eyes, Zuo Nian pushed the door open. “Gege, what are you doing? Eh? Why are you on the floor?” he asked in confusion.
Stretching out an arm, Duan Baisui pretended to grope around under the bed. A moment later he straightened, holding the dolls aloft. “Look what I found,” he said.
Spring had only just warmed the air when the Freedom Island story finally exploded across every major news outlet.
Over a hundred people had already been identified as involved. Most were people with power and status—businessmen, officials. Even the entertainment industry was rocked; more than a dozen well‑known actors had visited the island. Among the confirmed names was Rong Jin.
Taken together with the idiotic stunt he’d pulled with Ju Xiao, Rong Jin’s reputation plummeted overnight. Fans who’d once screamed themselves hoarse for him quietly deleted every post they’d ever made about him, as if having supported him were something shameful.
He’d just been released on bail—and was dragged in again, this time to “assist with the investigation.” The trending lists went up in flames. Rong Jin’s popularity was so high that even the slightest stir caused a storm. Ignoring it was nearly impossible.
Within days, marketing accounts began to hint that Rong Jin had “given up a name.”
They claimed that the person who had first taken him to Freedom Island—and who, like him, was a member—was none other than Duan Baisui.
The moment the rumor dropped, Xingyu’s PR team went into overdrive, trying to contain the damage.
It wasn’t enough.
The day after the story began to spread, paparazzi photos hit the web: Duan Baisui being taken away to answer police questions.
Overnight, it wasn’t just him. The entire Xingyu Group was dragged to the center of the storm.
Duan Yan knew his son. There was no way he’d done anything like this. Pulling strings, he learned that Rong Jin had clamped his jaws on Duan Baisui and refused to let go—spinning a story so detailed it almost sounded believable.
The police, for now, had nothing concrete on Duan Baisui. Bringing him in was standard procedure, they said. They asked Duan Yan not to panic.
But public opinion didn’t wait.
Rivals pounced on the opening. Paid trolls and professional haters dragged “Taizi‑ye” through the mud, hammering at the “pervert” narrative until his name was nailed to the pillar of shame.
Blurry photos appeared online: a young man with his arms around two little girls. The face was indistinct, but the captions all insisted it was Duan Baisui.
Anyone could invent a lie with a single sentence.
Clearing it up could cost you your lungs.
The once‑lauded “abstinent little CEO” had become, in the mouths of strangers, a depraved predator.
> **[BirdOnAWire]:** Abstinent Alpha? As if. It was just an image.
>
> **[GimmeIceCream]:** So the playboy and the crown prince both crashed and burned. Dog bites dog. What a show.
>
> **[Jiujiumu]:** Didn’t they say Taizi‑ye’s already married? Childhood sweetheart and all?
>
> **[WhereToFindYou]:** Trash is still trash. Having a wife doesn’t stop him from playing outside.
>
> **[BrownRiceCrisp]:** Home cooking never beats take‑out. He’s into minors, right? His wife isn’t underage. Where’s the fun in that?
“Boss? Boss?” a girl’s voice said.
Zuo Nian jerked back to himself, setting his phone down. His hands were still shaking, his face flushed with anger. He sucked in a deep breath and forced his tone level. “Sorry, I… spaced out. What is it?”
“How much is this?” the girl asked, shaking the keychain in her hand.
“Eighteen,” Zuo Nian said.
He’d made that one himself. Just the materials had cost him ten yuan. He hadn’t added any labor cost—earning a few yuan in profit felt fair enough. With online shops everywhere, running a little brick‑and‑mortar place wasn’t easy.
“Can you make it a bit cheaper?” she asked.
“Can’t~ That’s already the lowest,” he said, voice soft as ever. Then he ducked his head and glanced back at his phone.
He’d only just learned about what had happened to Duan Baisui. The internet was drowning in abuse, every word like a knife in his chest.
His Gege—the boy who had always been proud, always perfect—had been framed, and now strangers were trampling him into the mud.
The police hadn’t said a word about him yet, but half the world was already throwing stones.
How could they slap a hat on his head without even waiting for the facts?
He couldn’t stand it.
He couldn’t stand anyone talking about the person he loved most that way.
He didn’t know how to curse people out, but he still tried, one reply after another, fighting back in the comments. His voice was so small in that roaring sea of insults that it vanished almost at once.
He felt useless—all over again. Always too weak to help him when it mattered.
“All right, I’ll take this one,” the girl said at last. “And I’ll have another look around.”
“Mm‑hm. Take your time,” Zuo Nian answered absently.
What he really wanted was to sprout wings, fly straight to where Duan Baisui was, kiss his face and tell him not to be afraid—that he would always, always believe in him.
“Hey, did you see today’s news?” The door banged again as someone else came in, voice deliberately loud and dripping sarcasm.
“You mean about Taizi‑ye?” another man chimed in on cue.
“Who else? These rich people, seriously. They already have the whole industry to play with, men and women both, and that’s still not enough? They have to go find some sleazy island, too. Disgusting,” the first man said, idly knocking things around on the display rack while sneaking looks toward the counter.
“How many rich second‑gens are actually decent?” said his companion in a pink coat. “I’ve got a friend who was on one of those talent shows. He said he met that young master once—Taizi‑ye. The guy even sent his assistant over to ask for his WeChat. Looked like he wanted to ‘keep’ him. My friend turned him down, of course…”
The shop wasn’t big. Every word reached the ears of everyone inside.
Zuo Nian’s head snapped up. Only then did he recognize them: Liu Gong and Peng Chang, two “classmates” from high school.
“Y‑you’re talking nonsense!” He slapped his palm down on the counter.
He rarely lost his temper. But hearing them take cheap shots at Duan Baisui while he was down—he just couldn’t hold it in.
“Oh right, I forgot. Look who it is—the rich young madam herself.” Liu Gong let out a nasty little laugh. “But honestly, if he’ll even marry a fool, it’s not surprising he has some special kinks on the side, right?”
It had never occurred to Zuo Nian that *he* would one day be used as a weapon against Duan Baisui.
Because he was “stupid,” they thought marrying him was something to sneer at?
Ice seeped through his veins. The two men were still laughing, faces twisted with malice.
He forced himself to glare, to sound fierce. “Y‑you’re the fools!” he shot back. “Your math was only fifteen marks! You’re almost thirty and still don’t have a job! You’re the ones who are stupid!
“And my husband is nothing like what you’re saying! The police haven’t said anything yet, and you’re already trying to sentence him. You two… two bedbugs… aren’t even qualified to talk about him!”
Even when he was angry, his voice didn’t have much force. He tripped over the words, cheeks flushing with effort. It didn’t scare anyone—but he felt so wronged on Duan Baisui’s behalf that his nose stung. Tears burned just behind his eyes.
He swallowed them back down.
He *couldn’t* cry now.
Tilting his chin, mouth trembling, he braced himself for their counterattack.
This was a fight he absolutely, positively could not lose.
He was going to fire the first shot in defending Gege.
“Wow, I forgot—you’re a real high‑class lady now,” Liu Gong sneered. “Look at that attitude. But hey, he married a fool, didn’t he? Maybe that’s just his thing.”
The laughter in his eyes turned mean. “Tell me, did he take you there too? Ever get ‘sent out to play’?”
Until that moment, Zuo Nian had never realized just how cruel people could be.
Because he was “slow,” they felt free to use him as a stick to beat Duan Baisui with.
His whole body went cold.
“You’re the bedbugs,” he shot back, trembling. “You’re the ones with no jobs, no money—you’ll never be worth even a hair on my husband’s head!”
“You seen the photos or not?” Peng Chang cut in. “Want me to shove them in your mouth so you can see them better?”
“I’ve got security cameras in here,” Zuo Nian said, raising his voice as much as he could. “Everything you just said is recorded. I’ll sue you for slander. You can go to jail!”
“Ooh, look at you. Being a rich wife really changed you,” Liu Gong snorted. “So loud now. Tell me, did your darling husband ever bring you? Did he ever lend you out?”
Grabbing the feather duster from beside the counter, Zuo Nian said, “I told you last time—if you came again, I’d hit you. Did you think I was joking?”
With a little war cry, he charged, swinging the duster at them. Unfortunately, one Omega against two Alphas was no contest. Liu Gong snatched the duster from his hands and swung the solid wooden handle at him.
Instinctively, Zuo Nian threw up an arm to block. Pain exploded through his wrist. He couldn’t stop a grunt from slipping out, but he still forced himself to say, “Get out. Bedbugs get out of my shop.”
“Hey, have you no shame? Two Alphas ganging up on one Omega?” the girl with the keychain finally spoke up.
“Didn’t you see he hit us first?” Peng Chang protested.
Expressionless, the girl said, “All I saw was you picking a fight. If you want to argue the rest, you can do it with the AO Administration.” She pulled out her phone as if to call.
In disputes, the AO bureau usually took Omegas as the weaker side. If this blew up, two Alphas roughing up an Omega in his own shop while he hadn’t even touched them… they really might end up in a cell for a couple of days.
Peng Chang tugged urgently at Liu Gong’s sleeve. “Forget it,” his look said.
Liu Gong tossed the feather duster aside with a spit. “Tch. Serves your husband right,” he snarled.
“Tch. Serves you right to be unemployed. Serves you right to be broke. Serves you right that you’ll never be half the man my husband is,” Zuo Nian shot back at once.
Pulled bodily from the store, the two finally left. The shop fell silent.
Cradling his wrist, Zuo Nian winced. The blow had been full force. The skin was already swelling, a bruise faintly visible under the skin.
Turning to the girl, he said, “Thank you… and I’m sorry. That must’ve been an awful shopping experience.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine. I don’t know what the truth is yet, but I *have* met that Duan Baisui once. I don’t think he’s that kind of person.”
“Eh?” Zuo Nian blinked. “You know him?”
She smiled. “Our school’s poor‑student scholarships are funded by Xingyu. He came once to give a speech. He struck me as really upright and well‑mannered. So for now… I don’t believe the rumors.”
He hadn’t cried even when they’d hit him.
But hearing someone, anyone, speak up for Duan Baisui—his eyes went red at once. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“You’re welcome. Let’s ring this up,” she said, putting her things on the counter.
“You don’t have to,” he blurted. “I made them myself anyway. They’re a gift.”
“No. Running a shop isn’t easy either,” she said, scanning the code herself. “Eighteen, right? And next time those two show up, just call the police. Don’t fight them. You’ll only get hurt.”
Her kindness warmed him more than he could say. Grabbing a hair clip from the display, he said, “Then this one *has* to be a gift. Thank you for helping me. Without you, I’d have been in real trouble.”
Unable to refuse again, she accepted it. “I’ll come back and support your business,” she said.
“Mm‑hm.”
Once she left, he found he didn’t have the heart to stay open anymore.
He pulled down the shutter early and went to the supermarket, filling a basket with groceries.
If he couldn’t help Duan Baisui outside, at least he could take care of him at home.