Shu Yao lowered his gaze, lashes trembling, unwilling to meet Bai Qi's eyes. The air in the dining room felt too heavy, too sharp, like walking barefoot over shards of glass. His sister's voice, warm and familiar, cut gently through the silence as she moved about the kitchen with their mother. The scent of steaming broth and freshly warmed rice filled the space, grounding it with homeliness that his heart could not seem to grasp.
Bai Qi's voice followed, casual but tinged with concern.
"Shu Yao, you don't look well. Take as much rest as you need. Don't worry about work at all."
Shu Yao blinked and risked the smallest glance upward. The face across from him was warm, human, filled with kindness—the real Bai Qi, not the merciless phantom that haunted his dreams. Relief swelled faintly in his chest, only to twist with pain. To see the contrast was unbearable, as though reality itself was mocking him.
Bai Qi leaned back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh, tossing his head lightly.
"Haizzz. I'm so tired, man."
The tone—half-dramatic, half-playful—made Qing Yue roll her eyes as she reappeared from the kitchen. She carried a plate of food, placing it firmly in front of her gege. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her expression stern though her eyes softened with affection.
"Gege," she said, almost in a scolding tone, "you need to finish everything. I want this plate so clean it looks freshly washed."
She pressed chopsticks into his hand, leaving no room for refusal. Shu Yao obeyed quietly, picking at the food with small, deliberate bites. His throat felt tight, and each swallow seemed to scrape him from the inside.
Qing Yue slid into her chair, folding her arms as she studied him. "Gege, today is your day off. You can rest all day, don't worry about anything."
Shu Yao hesitated before answering. His voice came out softer than intended, tinged with the unease that knotted his chest. "But…?" His gaze flickered nervously toward Bai Qi, almost afraid of his reaction.
Bai Qi tilted his head, his smile widening. "Don't worry, Shu Yao. I already asked my father for your day off. He was eager to see you, but I told him you weren't well."
Shu Yao's heart clenched, the guilt sharp and immediate. His absence—excused by Bai Qi himself. The thought made his breath catch, fear rising that he had disappointed them both.
Yet Bai Qi's voice broke through his spiral once more, lighter now, teasing.
"You know what, Shu Yao?" He leaned forward across the table, elbows braced, mischief flickering in his eyes. "It was so much trouble just getting here today."
Qing Yue blinked, tilting her head. "Trouble? Isn't it easy for you?"
Bai Qi chuckled, shaking his head. "It was easy. But now?" He pulled out his phone, unlocking it with a flourish before turning the screen toward them. "Not anymore."
Qing Yue leaned in, blinking rapidly as the images filled her sight. Social media feeds swarmed with his face—their faces—Bai Qi's name trending, his presence splashed across every page. There he was, captured in candid frames: smiling, always with Qing Yue at his side.
Her eyes widened. She pressed her hand to her mouth. "God… I didn't think it would be this wild."
Bai Qi smirked, smugness curling the edge of his lips. "It happened just overnight. Rothenberg Industry's trade broke records. Suddenly, I'm everywhere." He tilted his head, his gaze playful as he turned it back to Qing Yue. "Tell me honestly—do you think I'm that good-looking?"
Qing Yue's eyes narrowed. She reached over without hesitation and pinched his ear, tugging hard enough to make him hiss. "Again with your arrogance?"
"Okay, okay!" Bai Qi yelped, half-laughing, half-pleading as he rubbed the reddened spot. "I admit it. I'm not that handsome. I'm not that good-looking."
"Good." Qing Yue released him with a huff of mock annoyance, though her lips twitched with a smile. She turned back to Shu Yao, her expression softening.
Her gege was still bent quietly over his plate, eating slowly, carefully, as though every bite might betray him. His motions were steady, but his silence spoke louder than words. Concern pinched at her brows.
"Gege," she said gently, "should I bring you more?"
Shu Yao shook his head immediately. "No. It's fine."
Her frown deepened. His pallor was clear, the redness of his eyes too raw to be missed. Worry carved itself across her face before her next words slipped out without warning, sharper than she intended.
"Gege… are you feeling unwell? Or did she hesitated,
Did someone… break your heart?"
The question struck like lightning.
Shu Yao's eyes flew wide, shock pouring into them. His chopsticks froze mid-motion. He choked suddenly on the rice he had just swallowed, coughing violently as his throat seized. His chest heaved, eyes watering with the force of it.
"Gege!" Qing Yue gasped, scrambling to push a glass of water into his hand. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked while you were eating—here, drink!"
Shu Yao clutched the cup, taking hurried gulps until the coughing subsided. His chest still burned, his cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and the sting of her words.
"I'm fine," he rasped, voice unsteady. He forced a small, brittle smile. "It's okay."
But Qing Yue's gaze lingered on him, sharp with intuition. She replayed the moment in her head: her question, his widened eyes, the way he choked as though the words had struck too close to truth. She pressed her lips together, a smirk ghosting across her face as she thought, So. It is indeed true My kindhearted gege is hiding something. And I will find out ,who that person is who made my dear gege this miserable.
On the other side of the table, Bai Qi had gone still. His gaze, quiet but piercing, settled on Shu Yao with a new weight. The choke, the fluster, the desperate denial—it wasn't nothing. It was something.
He smirked faintly, though the amusement in it was shadowed by something sharper, something probing. His mind flickered back to a different day, to Shu Yao arriving with bitten lips, to the questions that had stirred in his chest then but gone unanswered.
So… you were indeed with someone, he thought, misled by his instincts.
Shu Yao's silence filled the space between them, heavy as stone. Inside, fear and shame twisted, but he gave them no voice. He only lowered his gaze once more, pushing food around his plate with careful, quiet motions.
Everything around him was overwhelming—the light, the voices, the laughter—but he remained silent. Always silent.
Shu Yao's chopsticks clicked softly against porcelain as he finally cleared the last grain from the plate, more out of obedience to Qing Yue's watchful eyes than hunger. His stomach had long since knotted itself shut, but to leave food untouched in front of her would mean endless questions—questions he could not afford.
Bai Qi leaned back in his chair, stretching with a languid grace, his smile slipping into something sly.
"Since I'm already here," he said lightly, though his gaze flickered deliberately toward Shu Yao, "I'll stay today."
Shu Yao's pulse jumped, his eyes darting up for the briefest second before lowering again.
Qing Yue raised her brow, half-amused, half-annoyed. "you better be?. Bai Qi, it's daytime. If you're seen outside, you'll be followed like a celebrity on parade. Better to stay here."
"Exactly," Bai Qi chimed, grin widening. "That's what I mean. Why step into the lion's den when I can rest here, in peace?"
The words hit Shu Yao like a blow. Here? In peace? He wanted to retreat upstairs, to dissolve back into shadows and silence. But before he could excuse himself, Bai Qi's voice hooked him again.
"I'll stay in your room."
The phrase sank into him with chilling weight. His breath stalled. My room? The thought unraveled inside him like a thread pulled too far. Bai Qi in my room… no, no, that can't—
Qing Yue frowned immediately, placing hands on her hips. "Bai Qi! Don't trouble Gege. He needs rest, not your antics."
Bai Qi threw his hands up dramatically, feigning innocence. "Oh come on now, Qing Yue. At least allow me to take a little of his burden. Can't you see he's carrying too much? I just want to help."
Shu Yao's eyes widened in disbelief. Help? If only Bai Qi knew that his very presence tore Shu Yao open, leaving him exposed like a wound that would never scar.
Qing Yue hesitated, her gaze softening as she glanced at her brother. "Fine. But don't you dare annoy him. If you do—"
"I swear!" Bai Qi interrupted, pressing a hand to his chest like a martyr. "On my life, I'll be the most considerate guest alive."
Qing Yue narrowed her eyes, unconvinced, but finally relented. "All right. Go, then. But remember—if I hear one complaint from Gege, you're out."
Shu Yao's legs moved before his mind caught up. He climbed the stairs slowly, each step creaking under the unbearable weight of Bai Qi's presence close behind. A hand brushed his shoulder—warm, steady, claiming.
"Come on, Shu Yao," Bai Qi murmured with a teasing edge, leaning just close enough to force a shiver up his spine. "You're a grown man. Still hiding things?"
Shu Yao flinched. His lips stretched into something resembling a smile, brittle and false. "It's nothing." His voice betrayed him, trembling despite every ounce of discipline he forced into it.
They reached his door. Shu Yao entered first, the sanctuary of his room suddenly stripped of safety as Bai Qi followed, filling the air with his casual arrogance. He moved as though he owned the place, leaning forward with the sharp gleam of a king who never lost.
"Shu Yao," Bai Qi said, voice dipping lower. "You can't keep hiding like this. I'm sure you're hooked up with someone."
The words struck a buried chord. Shu Yao's chest tightened, his vision pulling him back—back to that night. The one Bai Qi cherished as memory, a treasure carved in gold. But for Shu Yao, it had been nothing less than apocalypse. A doomsday no one should ever carry.
His lips parted, but no sound escaped. Inside, he screamed: I wish I could tell you. I wish you knew. But if I speak, if I show you… what if you turn into him? What if you become the figure that haunts my nights?
Bai Qi leaned closer, searching his face with unbearable insistence. "So you won't tell me anything about your private life, huh?"
Shu Yao's autumn eyes rose, fragile yet lined with sorrow. He didn't answer. Silence weighed heavier than words.
Bai Qi misread it, as always. His gaze hardened, eager, frustrated. "So you wish to be mute until you marry her on your own, is that it?"
The word " her " stabbed cruelly, dragging Shu Yao into a despair he could not disguise. His voice was barely audible, a frayed thread. "I'm not… in that kind of relationship."
One of Bai Qi's brows arched high, surprise flashing. "What do you mean by not that kind of relationship? Does that mean you're in love?"
Shu Yao's heart broke all over again. The weight was too much. His voice cracked as he repeated, "I'm not… I'm not into."
The admission fell flat, suffocating under the gulf between them.
Bai Qi sighed, leaning back with exaggerated disappointment. "Come on, man. I'm your best friend. I share everything with you—every ridiculous secret, every reckless mistake. And you? You give me nothing. Not even a glimpse."
"You're greedy, Shu Yao," Bai Qi pressed, voice hardening. "You don't speak of your private affairs at all."
The accusation lanced through him like a blade. Shu Yao's breath caught. Greedy? He wanted to cry out. I am not greedy. I am terrified.
Shu Yao froze. The words carved deep, as though peeling skin from bone. His eyes shimmered, autumn-colored irises veiled in unshed tears. But he remained still, unyielding.
Bai Qi ruffled a hand through his own obsidian hair with a careless flick, yet his frustration seeped through. He stepped closer, brushing Shu Yao's fringe aside almost roughly. His voice softened, not with kindness but with weary surrender.
"I think I wasted my time."
Shu Yao's world cracked. The tears he had buried pressed violently against his lashes. But he refused. He clenched his jaw, refused to break, even as his chest burned.
Bai Qi turned, his back already withdrawing, footsteps echoing toward the door.
And Shu Yao remained behind, motionless, heart collapsing into silence. His autumn eyes finally shimmered free, but the tears that fell were quiet, invisible in their defiance. He sat with them alone, as always—his grief a secret shrine no one else was allowed to enter.