Chapter 7

Luo Yin hurriedly helped Ju Xiao back up. “No need to thank me. I’m just following President Duan’s orders.”
Ju Xiao’s eyes reddened. “Then… please thank President Duan for me.”
At two in the afternoon, a long post appeared on Ju Xiao’s account.
He laid out in detail the inhuman treatment he’d suffered over the years and attached partial recordings and chat logs—sickening enough to make anyone’s skin crawl.
The internet exploded.
Rong Jin’s fans were many and fiercely combative.
Within minutes, they were claiming the chat logs were photoshopped and that anyone who recorded calls with “friends” clearly had ulterior motives.
They believed in their idol without question.
Soon after, behind‑the‑scenes footage from the drama “Sleepless” was released.
It was an idol drama the company had produced specifically for their group.
In one scene, Ju Xiao’s character had a falling‑out with a teammate played by Meng Cheng and fell into the water. The video clearly showed Meng Cheng kicking him into the pool over and over—complaining that his pose was wrong, or that the emotion wasn’t in place yet.
In the dead of winter, Ju Xiao was soaked to the bone each time and could only keep forcing a smile and cooperating.
Not long after, bit‑part actors from the same set posted their own statements, confirming everything.
They wrote that they had no idea how those three had even gotten popular. On set, they never spoke to Ju Xiao, calling him “contagious” and refusing to sit with him. When they went out to eat, they never invited him along, and when they came back, they’d spit into his boxed meals.
Yet the moment cameras were on them, they’d plaster on smiles and act like loving brothers. It was disgusting.
Scrolling through the comments, Duan Baisui watched as more and more onlookers condemned the other three members of TR. Before long, the hashtag “Bullying” shot to the top of the trending list.
Just then, his phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he was surprised to see that it was Duan Yan.
He answered at once. “Dad.”
His father’s weary voice carried a note of irritation. “What’s going on with Rong Jin? Rong Lin’s been blowing up my phone, begging me to give his son a break.”
Picking out the key points, Duan Baisui briefly recapped what had happened to Ju Xiao and summarized the other higher‑ups’ opinions.
With a cold snort, Duan Yan said, “I was wondering why he was so desperate to get hold of me. Let his son spend some time in jail. I’m done with him.”
“Do whatever you think is right. Those people at the company—why should you care what they think? I still hold absolute control. Your word is law now. Meetings are just to inform them, not to give them a chance to meddle.”
“And if Rong Lin dares give you trouble, I’ll bankrupt him the moment I get back.”
“Watch your mouth,” another voice scolded lightly. Then Xu Yi took the phone. His tone gentled. “Alex.”
Others liked to say that Xu‑zong was ruthless, even harsher than Chairman Duan.
But to Duan Baisui, Xu Yi was nothing less than a doting father.
He had never once raised his voice at him, patiently teaching him everything from the ground up—in true Omega fashion, gentle to the core.
“Xiao‑ba, are you feeling any better?” Duan Baisui asked.
“Much better. Don’t worry,” Xu Yi replied. “You’ve been working hard lately.”
“It’s not hard. It’s my responsibility,” said Duan Baisui.
“Your dad and I haven’t really been following the news here. We didn’t even know something this big had happened at the company. He can be a little over the top, but he’s right about one thing: do as you see fit and don’t worry about the rest.”
“I understand, Xiao‑ba.”
“By the way, how are you and Nian‑nian doing?” Xu Yi asked.
Stiff as ever, Duan Baisui replied, “We’re fine.”
“He posted about you celebrating his birthday with him the other day,” Xu Yi said with a soft laugh. “That’s good. Make time to be with him whenever you can. Work is important, but so is your marriage. Don’t let your Omega feel neglected.”
“Hey, are you taking a dig at me?” Duan Yan’s voice came faintly through the line.
“I’m talking to our son,” Xu Yi chided.
“And that’s not talking to me?” Duan Yan grumbled.
When Xu Yi had first fallen ill, Duan Yan had been away on a business trip.
He’d only found out after the fact, and ever since, he’d been wracked with guilt—convinced that leaving home, even for a single week, had somehow caused all of this.
Listening to his two fathers bicker, Duan Baisui said helplessly, “Xiao‑ba, get some rest. I’ll hang up now.”
After the call, he unconsciously tapped into Zuo Nian’s Moments.
Ten minutes earlier, Zuo Nian had posted a new update.
It was a photo of a little cat curled up in a cardboard box, its fur dirty and matted, its coat curled and damp, its tiny body skinny and listless.
The caption read: “Is anyone willing to adopt a kitty? It’s very good and very affectionate. I’ll give it a bath and get its shots. If you’re interested, please contact me.”
Duan Baisui had a feeling this cat most likely wouldn’t find a home.
That afternoon, he went home early. When he opened the door, he saw Zuo Nian’s bag and coat on the sofa.
The living room and the kitchen were both empty.
He headed upstairs. Only the door to the first room on the second floor was ajar—the room they’d originally reserved as a nursery.
For the foreseeable future, they had no plans to use it, so it had remained empty.
Through the crack, he caught sight of Zuo Nian’s hunched back.
Before he could push the door open, he heard Zuo Nian muttering to himself inside. “You have to hide here quietly, okay? This is Gege’s home. You can only stay if he agrees.”
“Gege is very reasonable. If he’s willing to let Nian‑nian stay, I think he’ll let you stay too.”
The hand he’d placed on the doorknob slipped away.
He went back to their bedroom, changed his clothes, and came out to find Zuo Nian standing in the hallway.
He clearly hadn’t expected to run into him there. Letting out a small startled cry, he needed a moment to calm down.
“Gege, when did you get back?” he asked, still rattled.
“Just now,” said Duan Baisui.
“Then, I’ll go make dinner,” Zuo Nian said, unable to meet his eyes.
“No need,” Duan Baisui stopped him. “I ordered food. It’ll be here soon.”
“Oh.”
He flicked a glance at the nursery door, then headed downstairs.
Like a little tail, Zuo Nian trailed right behind him.
The living room was quiet. Sitting on the sofa, Duan Baisui said, as if offhandedly, “I saw your post about finding someone to adopt a cat. Did anyone take it?”
Standing beside him, Zuo Nian twisted his fingers nervously. “No…”
“They all said it’s just a little alley cat, not pretty. But Nian‑nian thinks it’s really cute…”
He trailed off and sneaked a glance at Duan Baisui’s face.
Their gazes met. Flustered, he ducked his head, the tips of his ears burning red.
“So no one wanted it?” Duan Baisui asked.
“No…” Zuo Nian answered softly. Then, mustering his courage, he added, “It’s very cold outside. It might die. So, Gege… can we keep it? It’s very gentle and doesn’t eat much. Nian‑nian can give up milk and drink goat milk instead. It won’t cost more.”
…
He wasn’t trying to play the victim or fish for sympathy.
It was just that his time in the orphanage had taught him that this was how things had to be.
Back then, there had never been enough food to go around. If you wanted more, there simply wasn’t any.
He’d met stray kittens and puppies there too.
If he wanted to feed them, he had to save from his own rations.
That was the only way he knew.
Even after leaving the orphanage, the director had told him to be grateful and know when to stop, never to be greedy or take advantage of others.
He’d remembered those words ever since.
Now he was the one who wanted to keep the cat, in a house that belonged to Duan Baisui. So as far as he was concerned, it was only right that the cat’s food came out of his share.
Looking at him, Duan Baisui asked, “Has it had a bath?”
“Yes,” said Zuo Nian, nodding. “And its shots too.”
“Then it can stay,” said Duan Baisui.
“R‑really?” Zuo Nian stared in disbelief.
He’d never imagined Duan Baisui would be so easy to persuade.
“Mm.”
“Gege is the best!” Overjoyed, Zuo Nian flung himself at him and hugged him tight. “Nian‑nian likes Gege the most!”
He hadn’t expected such a big reaction. Ramrod‑straight, Duan Baisui sat there rigidly, not sure what to do with his hands.
Once the rush of happiness passed, Zuo Nian finally realized he’d crossed a line.
Since they’d both become adults, this was the first time they’d been this physically close.
Slowly, he released his grip and inched away.
Duan Baisui’s face remained impassive, his gaze cool and flat as water.
He didn’t seem interested in reprimanding him for his overstep—nor in responding to his enthusiasm.
A weight settled in Zuo Nian’s chest. He couldn’t have put a name to the feeling, only that it hurt.
It felt like the air had been squeezed out of his lungs.
“I… I’ll go check on the kitty,” he said, cutting through the awkward silence.
Lowering his eyes, Duan Baisui answered, as usual, with a single, noncommittal word. “Mm.”