Chapter 38

“Uh… not really. We just played games together and had a few meals,” the young man stammered, denying it as fast as he could.
Leaning forward, Duan Baisui stubbed out his cigarette. “In that case,” he said lightly, “I don’t have to be polite on Young Master Lu’s account.”
“What did he do, Brother Duan?” Lu Congran asked.
Duan Baisui gestured toward the man in the trench coat beside him. “He gave my friend a hard time,” he said.
He paused. The temperature in the booth seemed to drop.
“And,” he added, voice turning razor‑cold, “he hit my wife.”
Lu Congran’s mouth snapped shut. Whatever he’d been about to say died in his throat.
Boss Lu barked at his nephew, “Get out. Go home and tell your parents I’m going to beat you half to death.”
Lu Congran slunk off without another word.
The two men holding Liu Gong glanced over, waiting.
“Left hand,” Duan Baisui said.
A scream tore through the music as Liu Gong’s left wrist was twisted with brutal force. The crack of bone was swallowed by pounding bass and drunken shouts. Curled on the floor, he howled, but no one outside the booth knew what had happened.
A tilt of Duan Baisui’s chin, and they grabbed his right hand next, slamming it down onto the bar table. One of the big men smashed a beer bottle against the edge. Jagged glass glittered as he aimed it at the back of Liu Gong’s hand.
Liu Gong thrashed desperately. “President Duan—President Duan—I was wrong, I was wrong! I’ll never do it again. Please, please, I’m begging you, spare me. Just this once. Please!”
Leaning forward, Duan Baisui patted his cheek. “That was for what happened the other day,” he said mildly. “We still have high school to settle.”
“I was just… just mouthing off back then,” Liu Gong sobbed. “I called him stupid, but I never hit him. I swear I didn’t—”
“Think again,” Duan Baisui said.
His voice was almost gentle.
To Liu Gong’s ears, it sounded like a death sentence.
Snot and tears ran down his face. He clawed frantically through his memories until a scene surfaced—the one that had dragged both their parents to school.
“D‑do you remember now?” Duan Baisui asked.
“That day, I only took his ring,” Liu Gong babbled. “I didn’t know it was important to him. He just went crazy and jumped on me—I didn’t hit him first, I swear…”
“What ring?” Duan Baisui asked.
It was very late when he finally got home.
The living room lamp was on, but the sofa was empty.
So Zuo Nian *had* gone back to bed.
Not wanting to wake him, Duan Baisui showered in the downstairs bathroom before heading upstairs.
When he opened the bedroom door, there was no familiar little lump under the blankets.
Only a plush pig lay tucked into the quilt—his own magic Little Pig. Propped behind its head was a sheet of A4 paper.
So late… where had Zuo Nian gone?
And what was with the note?
Reaching for his phone, he realized it was dead.
He tossed it onto the bed and stepped closer, picking up the paper.
In bright markers, neat little letters declared: **I’m mad. I’m in the wardrobe.**
Beside the words, a tiny angry face bristled.
Only then did it sink in that his phone had shut itself off at some point.
He crossed the room to the walk‑in closet.
The built‑in wardrobe was deep. When he slid the door open, he found Zuo Nian fast asleep inside, both arms wrapped tightly around A‑Beibei and Little Sui.
Worry and laughter tangled in his chest. He bent and scooped him up as gently as he could.
The shift in weight made Zuo Nian jerk awake.
For a moment he only stared, then his mouth turned down. “Stinky Gege. You *remembered* to come home?” he accused.
“If I hadn’t, were you planning to sleep in the wardrobe all night?” Duan Baisui asked, amused.
That made him tense. “If you didn’t come home,” he blurted, “where would you go?”
“I was teasing,” Duan Baisui said at once. “Where else would I go? Of course I’d come home.”
He set him on the bed and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “So why are you mad?” he coaxed.
“You promised you’d be home for dinner,” Zuo Nian mumbled. “Then suddenly you weren’t. You didn’t reply to my messages, you hung up my calls, and then your phone was off…”
“The battery must have died,” Duan Baisui said. “When you called, it probably auto‑cut and shut down.”
“Then where were you tonight?” Zuo Nian asked quietly.
“Ran into an old classmate. Had a couple of drinks,” Duan Baisui said with a smile.
Zuo Nian sniffed at him. “And you showered before you came up.”
Only then did it dawn on Duan Baisui what was bothering him. Pinching his cheek, he said, “Well, well. Our Nian‑nian’s learned how to check up on me.”
“Hmph.” Zuo Nian turned his face away, sulking.
“I thought you’d be asleep,” Duan Baisui said. “I showered downstairs so I wouldn’t wake you.”
“Really?” Zuo Nian asked slowly.
Through his shirt, Duan Baisui kissed the rosy tip of his chest. “If you don’t believe me, you can check for yourself,” he murmured. “See if I’ve been ‘eating outside.’”
“Check… how?” Zuo Nian asked blankly.
Taking his hand, Duan Baisui guided it lower. His voice dropped, rough at the edges. “See how happy your little Gege is just from looking at you.”
Zuo Nian: ?
The night flowed on like water.
Rocked up and down, the Omega finally wore himself out and tumbled into sleep. Sweat clung to his hairline, his cheeks flushed pink. His pale body was mottled with red marks—especially at his gland, bitten so often it was swollen and sore.
Carrying him to the bathroom, Duan Baisui rinsed him off with warm water. He didn’t wake, only whimpered, saying it hurt, saying he didn’t want “little Gege” anymore.
Little liar.
He squeezed so tightly. He liked it so much.
He only begged for mercy with his mouth, which made bullying him all the sweeter.
After washing the stickiness from his skin, Duan Baisui brought him back to bed.
He dabbed ointment carefully onto the worst spots, then turned him and drew him back into his arms.
Lacing their fingers together, he glanced down. Zuo Nian’s ring finger was bare.
They *had* wedding rings. It was just that Zuo Nian was too afraid of losing his. He’d locked them up in his “safe box” almost immediately.
Calling it a safe was generous.
It was more like a toy chest.
He’d seen it a few times—tucked in the side of their wardrobe, half‑hidden under shirts. Hard plastic, shaped like a cute bear with its belly on the floor. The only “security” was a little three‑digit combination lock at the mouth.
It was about as un‑safe as a “safe” could be.
Inside were all of Zuo Nian’s treasures. Their wedding rings. And the cheap plastic ring he’d given him as a child.
He’d kept it all these years.
Duan Baisui kissed his fingers and remembered the words Liu Gong had babbled in the bar.
“Just a plastic ring,” he’d said. “He wore it around his neck every day. I was just curious. I didn’t know it meant anything. I thought it was a toy. How was I supposed to know he’d lose it over that…”
From him, Duan Baisui pieced together what those three years of high school had really been like.
Because of his looks, Alphas had targeted him.
Because of his slowness, teachers had disliked him.
Because he didn’t talk much, he’d never made friends.
He’d spent those years alone, walking the halls by himself, enduring gossip and jeers.
And yet, Duan Baisui remembered the New Year and holiday messages that had pinged his phone like clockwork.
He remembered asking, casually: *How’s high school? Getting used to it?*
Zuo Nian’s answers had always been the same: *Nian‑nian is great. Don’t worry, Gege. Take care of yourself.*
And he’d believed him.
He’d really thought Zuo Nian was doing well.
Tightening his arms, he pulled him closer still.
His silly Omega never complained.
He never dragged out his unhappy experiences for sympathy.
He only talked about the brightest moments. Everything gray and painful, he seemed to quietly filter out.
So when you were with him, all you felt was warmth, comfort, and healing.
But then… who had healed *him*?
The more Duan Baisui tried to understand Zuo Nian’s past, the more afraid he became.
He was afraid that if he kept digging, he would break—that he would hate himself for ever having been so cold and blind.
At last, the run of rainy days broke. Spring sunlight washed the city clean. Warmth seeped into the house, a bright bar of light cutting across the quilt through a gap in the curtains.
He woke早, kissing the man in his arms over and over before finally slipping out of bed.
By the time he finished washing up and came back out, Zuo Nian was awake too.
Still dazed with sleep, the Omega patted blindly around on the bed, then hopped down bare‑bottomed and rummaged until he snagged his underwear off the floor.
Leaning against the closet door with his arms folded, Duan Baisui watched him.
Holding up the underwear and peering at it, Zuo Nian turned around with a little huff. “Bad Gege,” he complained. “You ruined my underwear again. This is the third pair!”
Smiling, Duan Baisui stepped forward and picked him up. “I’ll buy you new ones tonight,” he said.
“You have to buy *three*,” Zuo Nian said solemnly, holding up three fingers.
“Mm.”
“Then I forgive you,” he said at once, grin blooming. He really was easy to please.
As soon as Duan Baisui got to the office, Luo Yin came in. “President Duan, Mr. Xu is here. Mr. Rong as well.”
That gave him pause.
Xu Yi’s condition still wasn’t fully healed. The doctor had recommended he stay home and avoid crowded places in case stray pheromones triggered his glands.
He frowned, wondering if his small father had come to “clean up the mess.” With everything Rong Jin had stirred up, the company’s stock had dipped. Had Xu Yi come to stabilize things himself?
He’d just reached the door of Xu Yi’s office when a furious voice crashed into the hall.
“If your muddle‑headed son spends the rest of his life in prison, *so be it*! Our partnership ends here. From now on, we’re strangers!”
“President Xu, I swear I won’t indulge Xiao Jin again. Please don’t be rash. If you pull out now…” a man’s voice pleaded.
“Show him out,” Xu Yi snapped.
Assistant Lin’s voice stayed politely cool. “President Rong, please.”
Rong Lin made one last attempt. “Xu Zong, this is a critical time. If you withdraw, everything we’ve done will be for nothing. You’ll lose all the capital you’ve put in. It’s my fault for not disciplining my son. I swear, no matter what happens this time, I won’t lift a finger to help him.”
Xu Yi’s answer was ice. “It’s only a few tens of millions. I can afford the loss.”
“Chairman Duan…” Rong Lin said quickly, turning to his last hope.
“I listen to my wife,” Duan Yan cut in. “And I already told you during the bullying scandal—not to spoil your son. You bailed him out anyway. You even sent someone to threaten one of our artists and force a ‘reconciliation.’ That wasn’t decent, Rong Lin.”
The office door swung open.
Rong Lin shuffled out, shoulders sagging. Overnight, he looked like he’d aged ten years—nothing like the suave, confident man Duan Baisui remembered from banquets.
“Alex. Why are you out there?” Xu Yi asked when he spotted his son.
Just moments ago, he’d been roaring with anger. Now, at the sight of him, his expression softened at once.
In Duan Baisui’s eyes, Xu Yi had always been the gentlest Omega—nothing like the “ruthless, unfeeling” businessman the outside world imagined.
Pushing the door open, he stepped inside. “Dad. Little Dad,” he greeted.
Duan Yan nodded. Xu Yi came around the desk to pat his shoulder. “You’ve had a rough few days,” he said.