Chapter 7

Chapter 7

His near-expressionless face betrayed no emotion, not a flicker to be seen, making his thoughts unreadable.

Passersby discussed lunch plans, but the trio stood in their own bubble of oppressive silence.

"I'll take this," Ying Xi suddenly looked up, staring at the stuffed animal.

Wen Yun, who had been pondering lunch, blinked and pointed behind him. "This isn’t limited edition—there are more inside."

"I want this one." Ying Xi paid ten times the price right in front of him.

Wen Yun froze, tried to refuse, but was ignored. With no choice, he handed over the stuffed animal.

The icy-faced teen held the toy, the pink rabbit creating a jarring contrast with his aloof demeanor—to the point where Ying Xi himself appeared more doll-like.

As if remembering something, he turned slightly to Wen Yun and said, "Thanks."

The words were uttered with such chilly detachment that they felt more awkward than a blunt "whatever."

Wen Yun waved it off, hesitated, then awkwardly asked, "Do... you like Li Yang?"

Otherwise, he couldn’t understand why Ying Xi would insist on buying the stuffed animal from his hands. Combined with the fact that Ying Xi had been following Li Yang around, this seemed the only logical conclusion.

Ying Xi didn’t answer. Instead, Assistant Min beside him asked with an amused chuckle, "Is it that obvious?"

"Not really," Wen Yun hesitated. "It’s just that Ying Xi doesn’t strike me as the romantic type."

"Why?" Ying Xi glanced at him, tightening his grip on the stuffed animal, making it lose shape visibly.

Wen Yun automatically made to grab, wanting to save it, then remembered he’d already sold it at a high price.

"You seem hard to approach. Not that you’re a bad person, but you don't exactly give off 'relationship material' vibes." He quickly added, "Of course, that’s just my personal opinion."

Ying Xi didn’t respond, realizing he was holding the toy too tightly, and loosened his hold to gently support its arm.

"Let me take it," Assistant Min offered, reaching out.

The young man nimbly pulled the stuffed animal back away from his hands.

Though the emotion was faint, Assistant Min, having accompanied him many times, instantly recognized the meaning—*No.*

Assistant Min pulled back with an awkward smile, noticing Wen Yun’s desire to leave. Not wanting to prolong the awkwardness, he smiled and waved. "See you around, Classmate Wen. Feel free to visit sometime."

"Ah, sure, sure," Wen Yun replied, flustered. "Got it. See you."

"If you’re free tomorrow, you can bring that Classmate Li along here." Assistant Min pulled up an address on his phone, grinning.

Wen Yun tried to memorize it, nodded, and left.

He had no intention of going. The address vanished from his memory the moment he walked away, and he knew the invitation was just a pretext to get Li Yang there.

The image of Li Yang’s obvious discomfort around Ying Xi—as if he needed a ten-foot pole between them—flashed in Wen Yun’s mind. Scratching his cheek, he couldn’t see how the two could ever be together.

In some ways, they were a little alike.

...

Assistant Min put away his phone, only to turn and find the pink rabbit plush’s enlarged face right in front of him. He froze for a moment, caught between amusement and disbelief.

Ying Xi held the stuffed animal’s head level with his chin, arms encircling its middle, silent.

At first glance, his face seemed frostier than a winter morning, but the pink somehow made his coldness almost endearing.

The contrast was so stark that Assistant Min couldn’t suppress a laugh. Sometimes, Ying Xi’s awkwardness had an odd sort of charm—almost a superpower.

Maybe that was the power of wealth.

"Still feel like browsing, Young Master?"

Ying Xi didn’t answer. Assistant Min understood.

With his person of interest gone, he had no interest in staying.

"Young Master, how did I do today?"

"Do you think I’ll get a bonus?"

Receiving no response after several attempts, Assistant Min dropped his bombshell: "Young Master, beta-alpha pairings never work out."

Ying Xi shot him a cold 'shut it' glare, signaling him to shut up.

Assistant Min grinned. "But I’m cheering you guys on."

Ying Xi paused, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, an undeniable upward twitch. "Thanks."

＊

Li Yang sneezed again.

He closed the door, set down the stuffed animal and books on the table, and washed his face.

Was he coming down with something...?

He glanced out the window at the bright sunshine. Unlikely.

Lunchtime had passed, and the pantry was nearly bare. He made a quick bowl of egg drop noodles and scrolled through his phone while eating. Vice Monitor Wen Yun had spammed him with multiple messages.

"You didn’t throw the stuffed animal away, right?"

"I sold mine to Ying Xi."

"The price he offered was too good to pass up."

"Don’t you think Ying Xi is weird?"

The last question was the second time Wen Yun had asked. Li Yang couldn’t be bothered to overthink it, replying casually.

"Didn’t throw it."

He knew what it cost—it wasn’t cheap. Throwing it away would've been throwing money away.

Wen Yun got a two-word reply after hours. Running a hand through his hair, he ventured cautiously, "Li Yang, have you ever been in a relationship?"

"No."

Figures. Wen Yun dropped the subtle approach. "You free tomorrow? TAT, I was hoping we could eat together today."

"Hitting the books at home tomorrow. Not stepping out," Li Yang replied.

After the meal, his originally clear mind suddenly became exhausted. Li Yang washed the dishes, took a shower, changed into pajamas, and lay down on the bed, closing his eyes to sleep.

He soon opened his eyes again, breathing rapidly, only aware that he had a particularly bad dream but unable to recall the details.

The sound of the door opening—his parents, who were supposed to return late from work, were home already for some reason.

The familiar fighting followed the same old script for Li Yang.

But today was a little off.

"What can't be said at home? What were you trying to do by coming to my company?"

"I should be asking you the same! We're still married, and you're carrying on with that omega—how shameless!"

"We agreed when we got married not to interfere in each other's lives. You're the one who changed."

"Like hell we did! Did you say that when you came to me during your heat cycle?"

"..."

By the end, everything that could be smashed was in pieces on the floor.

Li Yang sat up, only to be retreated under the covers by the chill in the air.

It wasn't cold enough for November.

He wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, reaching up to touch his forehead—running warm.

"I’m just glad our child isn’t an omega. I’ve had enough of alphas like you," his mother shouted.

His father sneered. "Fine. Let’s divorce. Take the kid then."

The argument abruptly stopped.

Somehow, their fights always ended with those words.

Li Yang, expecting nothing different, silently opened the drawer and out some cold medicine.

Still wrapped in his blanket, he stepped out, dissolved the pills in water, drank it, and returned to his room.

He ignored the mess on the floor, pretending not to see his parents, flushed with anger from the fight.

"I regret marrying you. You’re heartless, and so is the child," his mother said through tears.

The door opened again, and the teen bundled in his blanket stood at the entrance.

His cheeks were flushed unnaturally, his gaze unfocused. He carefully stepped around the sharp shards on the floor, picked up the plush toy from the table, and staggered back to his room—showing no reaction to her words.

A heavy silence fell over the living room.

His mother rubbed her eyes, an unusual hint of guilt flashing across her face.

Then she glanced at his father, and the guilt twisted into hatred.

Li Yang was too out of it to think about anything else. He set the toy down, rested his head against it, and hazily checked his phone.

4:30 p.m.

Dinnertime was approaching, but judging by the situation, he’d have to sort himself out tonight.

Sure enough, half an hour later, both doors opened and shut in succession.

Feeling slightly better, Li Yang stepped out to find the floor even messier—smashed electronics and furniture scattered everywhere.

He did some half-hearted cleaning, drank a glass of warm water, and crawled back into bed to sleep.

Hugging the soft plush toy, Li Yang clutched it tighter without thinking in his daze, soothed by its softness.

He blinked awake at 10 p.m., sitting up in confusion, his hair slightly tousled. The faint light from the window outlined his face in a hazy silhouette.

His mind foggy, Li Yang remained in that position for five minutes before coming back to himself.

Something wasn’t right.

Cradling his pounding head, he climbed out of bed and took his temperature.

39°C—a high fever.

While he could still think straight, he cooked some porridge, ate it, and took a fever meds.

Lying down eased his fever haze, though his burning brain made him feel like a popsicle in the sun—weak and boneless.

He picked up his phone—QQ had a few unread messages.

One from Wen Yun, the rest all from Ying Xi.

Wen Yun: "Alright, next time then."

Ying Xi had changed his profile picture from a cat to a pink bunny plush.

Li Yang recognized the toy. He sat up and examined the one beside his bed—a perfect match. It had to be from Wen Yun's batch.

"Li Yang, I bought a plush too—same as yours."

"It was good seeing you today ^_^."

"Li Yang, did you eat yet?"

Typical awkward chat.

His scorching breath and fever-fried brain made it hard to think straight. Blinking hard, Li Yang typed: "Yeah."

The cold light of the phone illuminated his flushed face.

He replied within seconds: "Heading to bed?"

Li Yang wasn’t sleepy at all. His mind was a fever dream—one moment struggling with math problems, the next taking the college entrance exam in reality.

His gaze returned to the screen. Cheek mashed into the mattress, he slowly pecked out a reply.

"'Mmm."

If possible, he’d jump in a river outside.

So hot.

Li Yang pulled at his neckline, his body burning too much to bear the blanket—he shoved it away.

He greedily chased the cool air slipping through the window, his eyelids drooping heavily, his fair skin flushed red clear up to his ears.

"Goodnight," Ying Xi said.

Li Yang blinked, taking several minutes to type out two broken words: "Goodnight."

The conversation ended there. Too lazy to touch his phone again, he simply stared blankly at the chat window, his gaze growing hollow, his once bright black eyes now dull and gray.

Holding the phone too close made his eyes sore and dry. Li Yang pushed it away with his hand.

His fever had eased slightly, but his head throbbed violently, as if two hammers were pounding relentlessly against his temples.

"Li Yang?" A cool, magnetic voice spoke beside his ear. Li Yang thought the fever was making him hallucinate and opened his eyes in confusion, searching around.

Why, of all things, was he hearing Ying Xi's voice?

Squinting under the harsh light, he confirmed there was no one else in the room. He buried his face in the plush toy, leaving only the back of his head exposed.

A suffocating feeling overwhelmed him, yet his mind eerily calmed down.

Until the voice spoke again: "Li Yang, are you asleep?"

It was Ying Xi.

Li Yang came to slightly and turned toward the source of the sound.

His phone screen glowed faintly, revealing a blurry silhouette.

Li Yang grabbed the phone and saw Ying Xi's face on the screen—blurry, his features flickering with double images.

He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and forced out a barely audible whisper from his dry, aching throat.

"Ying Xi? What’s up?"

The boy on the other end of the phone was pressed so close to the screen that his delicate skin and the unusual flush on his cheeks were clearly visible.

His long lashes fluttered as he widened his eyes, his dark, glossy eyes shimmering with a watery sheen.

"Why aren't you saying anything?"

Li Yang was clearly out of it, mumbling to himself, "Where are you? I can't see you."

"Ying Xi."

"You called me, so why hide?"

Ying Xi was silent for a long moment before finally speaking again, thrown off by Li Yang's unusually soft tone.

"You're just too close to the screen."

Talking distracted him from the headache. Li Yang didn’t even process Ying Xi’s words, just mindlessly agreed. "Even if I'm close, that doesn’t mean you should hide."

His fingers lost strength, and Li Yang dropped the phone, letting the screen face the ceiling, lit only by the harsh white light.

"Fine," he slurred. "If you don’t want me to see, then I won’t look."

Ying Xi seemed frozen on the other end, sitting stiffly for a long moment before finally pursed his lips and spoke. "Li Yang, are you sick?"

"Not really." Li Yang touched his forehead—the fever reducer must’ve been working, as his temperature felt normal, though his head still throbbed.

"I'm fine."

This much talking was already unusual for him, and his voice was weak and soft—clearly sick.

Ying Xi shot to his feet, his dark eyes filling with concern.

The black cat behind him startled at the sudden movement, arched its back and bristled before recognizing its owner and settling back down, lazily flicking its tail.

Normally, Ying Xi would stop to pet it, but this time, he stepped right over it and rushed off.

The black cat tilted its head and let out a confused "Meow?"

Ying Xi snatched his phone and called his driver to get the car ready.

"Li Yang, I’m taking you to the hospital. Where do you live?"

"My home?" His eyelids fluttered slightly as Li Yang let out a vague hum. His foggy mind slowly pieced together an answer. "I live in a house next to Chenghua District."

Ying Xi stopped short, recalling the last time he saw Li Yang enter a residential area.

That neighborhood was Shengyuan, not Chenghua, and there were no houses nearby.

He pulled up a map and searched for "Chenghua District"—the nearest one was over 300 kilometers away.

"That’s not right," Ying Xi said.

"It’s my home," Li Yang murmured dazedly. "I’m sure of it."

Except it was his real home—from another world.

The camera swayed, the rustling of fabric loud in the background, and soon Li Yang’s face reappeared on the screen.

His hair was a mess, his brows furrowing before relaxing again for no reason. His lips were pale and dry, his whole body limp with exhaustion.

Li Yang couldn’t hold the phone steady, and the camera jerked before settling again, this time angled slightly downward, framing his chin and neck.

His pajama collar was askew, revealing a stretch of fair skin, his collarbones delicate and prominent, marked with a few distinct red scratches.

He kept tugging at his clothes, overheated, causing the collar to slip even lower.

"My home is next to Chenghua, but you don’t need to come. I’m fine."

Ying Xi’s gaze inadvertently drifted lower, but he quickly averted his eyes, his voice strained. "You have a fever."

"Probably," Li Yang tilted his head, his dark, glistening eyes fixed on the phone. Then, for some reason, he suddenly smiled.

"But it’s okay. I took medicine."