Beijing greeted them with a cold, colorless dawn — the kind that scraped against the bones, the kind that made even the air feel unforgiving.
Bai Qi walked through the airport like a storm sealed inside a man: sharp steps, sharp shoulders, sharp silence.
He didn't look at Shu Yao once.
Not when the luggage belt turned.
Not when the crowd pressed close.
Not when Shu Yao's fingers trembled against the handle of the suitcase.
Nothing.
And Shu Yao… he followed behind like a ghost remembering how to move.
George Notices Everything
"Shu Yao?" George's voice broke through the clamor.
Shu Yao looked up slowly, his eyes red-rimmed, swollen from a night that offered no mercy.
George's brows creased. "Did he—"
He stopped himself, jaw tightening, rage simmering behind his words.
Shu Yao immediately shook his head, terrified of causing trouble.
"No, Mr. George," he whispered. "It's nothing. Please… don't say anything to him. I don't want to be the reason for any conflict."
George stared at him — at his hunched shoulders, at the sadness carved into every line of his young face.
"You've worked too much already," George muttered, softer now, placing a steady hand on Shu Yao's shoulder. "Go home. And have Rest."
Shu Yao bowed, polite even in heartbreak.
"My work isn't over yet," he said. "And… thank you for looking after Juju for me."
Juju. The cat. The only creature in the world who never turned its back on him.
George cleared his throat quickly, suddenly flustered.
"It was nothing. Really."
A faint blush dusted his cheeks — one Shu Yao didn't see, because he was already lowering his head again.
"See you at work, Mr. George."
George opened his mouth. Closed it.
Watched him walk away after Bai Qi — a fragile shadow trailing a hurricane.
He forgot how to be human, George thought.
Bai Qi… what have you done to this boy?
His phone vibrated.
Armin.
He answered sharply. "Armin. He's out. I'll notify your father immediately."
"Yes, uncle," Armin replied through the speaker.
Call ended.
George didn't worry about Bai Qi.
He worried about the one suffering silently behind him.
The Villa
Outside the airport, the winter air bit at their faces. Bai Qi didn't glance back to check if Shu Yao was following. He didn't need to. He knew Shu Yao would chase after him — because he always did.
In the car, the driver opened the rear door for Bai Qi.
Shu Yao stepped aside, lowering his gaze, waiting for Bai Qi to settle before quietly slipping into the front passenger seat like a servant, because Bai Qi had forbidden him from sitting beside him.
The entire ride, the silence was suffocating.
Shu Yao sat with his hands folded tightly, knuckles white against the bandage around his palm.
His heart thudded against his ribs, each beat a reminder of the words that tore him apart only hours prior:
"I wish you died that night."
He pressed his lips together. Hard.
If he thought too much, he would cry again.
Bai Qi didn't look at him even once.
Arrival
The car crawled to a stop before the vast iron gates of Bai Qi's villa — towering, immaculate, cold.
Servants stepped out immediately, lined up in neat rows.
Bai Qi emerged first, flawless as always: coat straight, shoulders squared, expression unreadable. Not even travel fatigue touched him.
Shu Yao hurried out after him, nearly stumbling as he took the luggage from the trunk before the servants could reach it.
"Allow us, sir—"
"No, it's fine," Shu Yao murmured, clutching the heavy suitcase with trembling arms.
He lowered his head again, always lower, afraid of meeting anyone's eyes.
The servants helped him regardless, knowing he is fragile. Knowing how ruthless there young master became.
Knowing Bai Qi wouldn't spare him a glance.
Bai Qi walked ahead into the villa —
cold, controlled, untouchable.
Shu Yao stood at the entrance, clutching the suitcase strap, watching his silhouette disappear without a single backward glance.
Not once.
Not even for a second.
Shu Yao swallowed hard, chest tightening painfully.
He didn't even see me…
The driver approached from behind.
"Sir, should we return."
" yes....," Shu Yao whispered.
He climbed back into the car, seating himself quietly as the engine started.
Through the window, he saw Bai Qi's profile for a brief moment — perfectly sculpted, perfectly cold, perfectly indifferent.
Then the villa disappeared behind the trees as the car pulled away.
Only emptiness remained.
Home
It was barely six when the car finally stopped in front of Shu Yao's house.
He stepped out slowly, his laptop bag still clutched in one hand.
His knees felt weak, his throat raw.
He unlocked the gate, his movements mechanical.
A man existing because he had no choice.
Inside, a small warm meow greeted him.
"Juju…"
Shu Yao crouched down instantly, burying his fingers into the soft fur as the cat rubbed against him affectionately.
"I'm home," he whispered.
Juju purred, oblivious to the way Shu Yao's voice trembled.
"Come… I'll feed you."
He moved to the kitchen.
Poured food into the small bowl.
Watched Juju eat.
Then he sat at the table, rested his forehead against the cool wood, and exhaled shakily.
The memories struck him like lightning — Bai Qi's fury, his words, his disgust.
Stay away from me.
Because of you I lost her.
I wish you died that night.
Shu Yao closed his eyes tightly, his fingers curling against the tabletop.
His heart throbbed.
Not in beats —
but in wounds.
He stayed like that, listening to Juju munch quietly, letting tears gather beneath his lashes but refusing to let them fall.
I should have died that night..
But he whispered, barely audible:
"…I'm sorry."
To himself.
To Bai Qi.
To the world.
Shu Yao placed the cat food back into the cabinet, the quiet clink of the container echoing in the stillness of his small kitchen. His hands trembled. His eyes still stung. He blinked hard, trying to steady himself.
That was when he noticed it.
A box.
Small. Perfectly square. Resting neatly on the narrow vase table against the wall — a place no delivery ever touched.
For a breath, all he could do was stare.
The label read only one thing.
Shu Yao.
His name. Written in an elegant, unfamiliar script.
He wiped his face roughly with his sleeve, swallowing down the last remnants of a sob.
"…I didn't order anything," he murmured, voice shaky, barely audible.
Still, his feet moved on their own. Slow steps — cautious, fragile — until he reached the table. He touched the box like it might burn him. Then, carefully, he peeled the wrapping apart.
Inside lay a thick file.
Pristine. Too pristine.
Shu Yao's brows pulled together. Something in his chest tightened.
He opened it.
And the world tilted.
Rothenberg Industry's confidential designs — the upcoming launch collection — all neatly printed inside. Schematics, sketches, fabric lists, measurement tables. None of these should be outside the company. None should exist in a stranger's hands.
Yet here they were.
And then—
Shu Yao's breath stopped entirely.
His signature.
Bold. Perfect. Unmistakable.
Right beside Bai Qi's.
"No…" Shu Yao whispered, voice cracking.
The file slipped from his hands and scattered across the floor like fallen feathers.
"No, no, no—this… this is impossible…"
He dropped to his knees, scrambling to gather the papers, hands shaking violently. Every sheet he touched felt heavier than the last, as if guilt itself had been printed onto them.
"This isn't real…" he breathed. "I didn't sign anything… I didn't. I never—"
He clutched one page, knuckles whitening.
The partnership agreement with Rothenberg's largest rival.
The contract stating the collection had been sold — illegally — before its launch.
His signature sealed it.
And Bai Qi's too.
Shu Yao's vision blurred again, but this time from pure panic.
"How—" He pressed a trembling hand to his forehead. "How did this happen…? Think, Shu Yao… think…"
His mind was blank — a hollow, echoing chamber where nothing answered back.
He staggered to his feet and placed the file on the table like it was something poisonous. His breath came too fast, too shallow.
"If Bai Qi sees this…" he whispered. "If… if Mr. Niklas finds out… he'll… he'll destroy everything."
His heart pounded against his ribs, painful, frantic.
"And Bai Qi…" Shu Yao's voice fractured. "He already hates me. He hates me more than anyone. If he sees this, he'll… he'll think I betrayed him. That I tried to ruin his company. He won't even listen…"
His lips trembled helplessly.
"He'll kill me," he whispered, eyes unfocused. "Not with his hands… but with his words. With his eyes. With the way he looks at me like I'm the reason he can't breathe."
A quiet, wounded sound escaped him.
Juju lifted its head, ears twitching, sensing the storm inside its owner.
Shu Yao shook his head, hair falling wildly into his eyes.
"No. No, Bai Qi… wouldn't believe me. Not after… everything…"
His mind flashed back to the hotel.
The kiss.
The collapse.
The cruelty.
The command: Get the hell out of my sight.
Shu Yao's throat tightened painfully.
"Why…" he whispered. "Why is it always me…?"
He pressed both hands against the table, grounding himself as the floor spun.
Who would do this?
Why?
And then — that answer came like a shadow creeping under a door.
Shen Haoxuan.
And Lu Zeyan.
Their polite smiles. Their subtle glances. Their too-smooth comments. Their perfect timing.
Perfect work.
Perfect sabotage.
Shu Yao's blood ran cold.
"It was them…" he breathed. "It was them. They forged everything.
His knees threatened to give out again, but he forced himself upright, jaw trembling.
"This… this will destroy the company," he whispered. "It'll destroy Bai Qi. It'll destroy… everything…"
He clutched the edge of the table until his fingers ached.
"What should I do…?" he whispered. "Who should I tell…? Who… who will believe me…?"
For a moment, he imagined telling Bai Qi.
Bai Qi's cold stare.
His anger.
His disdain.
His deliberate cruelty.
Shu Yao's heart clenched.
"No… he won't believe me," he whispered. "He'll think I'm lying. He'll think I'm the one who ruined everything. He'll… he'll hate me more."
His voice trembled like a brittle string ready to snap.
"Why me…? Why always me…"
He slowly sank into the nearest chair, chest heaving.
The file lay before him, a quiet monster waiting to devour his life.
Shu Yao pressed a shaking hand to his mouth — and for the first time that night, he whispered the truth he was too afraid to think:
"I'm trapped…"
Juju nudged his ankle gently.
Shu Yao didn't move.
"…and I don't know how to save myself," he whispered."
The office lights were dim, casting long, predatory shadows across the glass floor. Lu Zeyan snapped the last panel of code shut, the digital interface collapsing into darkness with a soft hum. The quiet was eerie… calculated.
"Shen ge," he said carefully, turning toward the man leaning against the window with his usual infuriating calm. "I think… he saw the file."
Shen Haoxuan didn't even lift his gaze. He simply smiled — that slow, elegant curl of the lips that never meant anything good.
"I know," he answered. "Right on time."
Lu Zeyan frowned. "Then… what now?"
Shen Haoxuan finally turned, pushing off the window with a grace that was almost feline. His eyes glinted — sharp, cold, entertained.
"Now," he said, "it's our turn to move."
Lu Zeyan stiffened. His fingers twitched anxiously. "Shen ge… I can't go with you. If Shu Yao sees me, he'll panic. He'll say something stupid.
Shen Haoxuan laughed under his breath — a quiet, effortless sound that somehow froze the room.
"You don't need to come."
Lu Zeyan blinked. "Then…?"
"All you need," Shen Haoxuan said, stepping closer, "is to call her."
Lu Zeyan's breath caught. "You mean… Míng Sù?"
A sharper smile. One that cut.
"Of course," Shen Haoxuan murmured. "Who else can play a role that is too delicate? Who else can lure him, soften him, break him without leaving a mark?"
Lu Zeyan exhaled slowly, something uneasy stirring in his chest. "Shen ge… are you sure using her is a good idea? She's unpredictable."
"That's what makes her perfect," Shen Haoxuan replied. "Bai qi will indeed trust her easily. Crumbles too easily. All she has to do is to push him a little further."
Lu Zeyan swallowed.
"And what about that stupid boy?" he asked. "What about him?"
Shen Haoxuan's eyes gleamed like polished ivory diamonds.
"He is already breaking himself," he said. "We're merely… accelerating the process."
Lu Zeyan shut down the remaining screens — the last digital traces of forged signatures, stolen files, and artificial authorizations.