The morning arrived not with a sunrise, but with a clinical intrusion.
Shu Yao drifted in a daze, the ceiling of Room 43 a blank canvas for his fevered thoughts. The air was a heavy, stagnant weight, flavored by the antiseptic hum of survival.
He was waiting.
Every time a shadow crossed the frosted glass of the door, his heart—the same heart that had stuttered in a frozen cellar—gave a violent, hopeful leap. Was it the Monarch? Was it the man who had breathed life back into his failing lungs?
He was tethered by more than just tubes and wires. He was tethered by year's of devotion that refused to break, even when his bones did.
Outside the door, a sentinel stood.
George, distrusting the very blood that ran through his nephew's veins, had hired a guard. A mountain of a man in a dark suit and black glasses stood at attention, a human wall intended to keep the "Ice Monarch" out.
The doctors found it "out of weather"—an eccentric, paranoid gesture—but George knew better. He knew that the most dangerous thing for a healing heart was the man who had broken it.
Miles away, in a skyscraper that pierced the clouds like a glass spear, Bai Qi was pacing.
His office was a cathedral of high-stakes decisions, but today, he was a prisoner of his own making. The lie he had told Han Ruyan—Shu Yao's mother—was a ticking time bomb buried in his chest.
"He is safe. He is working. He will return."
The words were acid in his mouth. He looked at the window, his jaw clenched so tight the bone felt brittle. He hadn't visited the hospital yet. He didn't know how to look at Shu Yao without seeing the ghost of the man who had performed CPR in the dark.
Suddenly, his phone vibrated. A name flashed on the screen: Qing yue's mother.
Bai Qi swallowed hard, his throat dry as desert sand. He smoothed his sleek black wolfcut with a trembling hand and pressed the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" he said, the word coming out as a strained hesitation.
"Bai Qi, dear," Han Ruyan's voice crackled through, thin and weary.
"Yes... yes, Auntie."
"When will the project work finished? I just... I just want to hear his voice. Did you tell him I came? Did you tell him his mother is waiting?"
Bai Qi's spine turned to ice. He was a man who handled billions of dollars, yet he was defeated by the sorrow of a mother.
"Yes," he lied, the word a jagged stone. "I told him. But the work... it will take weeks, Auntie. It's a massive undertaking. Everyone is very focused on it so."
A long, hollow sigh echoed from the other end. "I just want him to know I'm not angry anymore. Tell him to come home, as soon as he got free Bai Qi."
"I have to go, Auntie. Too much work. We'll talk later."
He declined the call before she could respond. He hurled the phone onto his mahogany desk, a growl of pure, unadulterated rage tearing from his throat.
"What the hell am I even doing?" he barked at the empty room.
While Bai Qi drowned in guilt, somewhere in another room held a different kind of darkness.
Ming Su sat in a velvet armchair, her fingers digging into the fabric until the threads groaned. Beside her, Shen sipped his tea with the practiced, predatory grace of a man who watched the world burn for entertainment.
"Calm down, Ming," Shen murmured, the steam from his cup veiling his cold, grey eyes. "What do you think will happen?"
"Shu Yao is awake!" Ming Su hissed, her face a mask of porcelain-perfect panic. "If he speaks... if he tells Bai Qi about the sedative, about it!"
Shen placed his cup on the table with a precise, chilling clack.
"Well, Ming," he said, his voice a low, melodic threat. "Since it's our game, it's easy to rewrite the narrative. Again."
Ming Su's brows knitted together. "Rewrite? But How?"
Shen stood up, his movements fluid and serpentine. He circled the chair where Ming Su sat, finally placing his heavy, possessive hands on her shoulders. He leaned down, his breath ghosting against her ear.
"You look exactly like her, Ming Su," he whispered. "Exactly like Qing Yue."
Ming Su lifted her head, her gaze meeting his. "Of course I do. That was the point, wasn't it?"
"Then why are you terrified?" Shen asked, a smirk playing on his thin lips. "You are the most tragic weapon in our arsenal. Bai Qi is already blinded by your face. He cannot see past the ghost."
Shen walked to the window, his eyes flashing with a grey, metallic light. "If Shu Yao tries to step between you and the Monarch, he will do nothing but suffer. I will ensure he understands that his survival was a mistake."
Ming Su tilted her head, a dark smile finally blooming on her lips. "Do you have something in mind?"
Shen turned back, his smirk widening into something truly demonic. "You've got it. Shu Yao... you really are making this hard for us. Let's see how long you can keep your secrets when the world turns to ash around you."
Back in the city, Bai Qi was acting on an impulse he refused to analyze.
He stood in an boutique, staring at a box wrapped in midnight-blue silk. Inside lay an iPhone 17—the most expensive, technologically advanced device in the world. It was a king's ransom in the palm of a hand.
He told himself it was practical. Shu Yao's old phone was a relic, broken in the chaos. He told himself it wasn't an apology. He told himself it wasn't because he was feeling a crushing, suffocating guilt for the broken rib.
"It doesn't mean I forgive him," Bai Qi muttered to himself as he walked toward the hospital, his face flushing a deep, furious red.
"It's just... he needs a phone for work. Efficiency. Yes. Efficiency."
He reached the corridor of Room 43, his obsidian eyes flaring when he saw the mountain of a man guarding the door.
Bai Qi stopped, his presence radiating a cold, lethal authority. "Who the hell are you?"
The guard stilled, his eyes widening behind his black glasses. "Mr... Mr. Bai Qi! It's you!"
Bai Qi frowned, taking a step back as the man suddenly looked like he was about to faint. "Who gave you permission to stand here?"
The guard blushed, suddenly dropping to his knees and reaching for Bai Qi's hand. "Mr. Bai! I am your biggest fan! I've read every article about your takeovers! I—"
"Get your hands off me!" Bai Qi barked, his voice a whip-crack that echoed through the hall.
The man scrambled back, bowing frantically. "I... I am so sorry! It was Mr. George! He told me to guard this room! He said no one enters! Especially not—"
"He dares?" Bai Qi's mouth twitched with a terrifying fury. "He dares to stop me from entering my own employee's room?"
The guard blinked, caught between the terrifying man who signed his paychecks and the terrifying "Ice Monarch" standing before him. "I... I can't just—"
"I'll pay you double," Bai Qi cut him off, his eyes burning with a dark, predatory light. "Now, get out of my way."
The guard didn't even have time to blink before Bai Qi brushed past him, the blue silk box clutched in his hand like a weapon. He didn't knock. He didn't wait.
The Monarch was entering his kingdom, and he was bringing a gift that tasted like regret.
The heavy door of Room 43 swung open with a muffled thud, leaving the guard outside to hover in a state of useless, stuttering panic. Bai Qi stepped into the sterile vacuum, his presence instantly expanding to fill every corner of the room.
Shu Yao's head snapped toward the entrance. The moment his eyes landed on the tall, imposing silhouette of the Monarch, his heart performed a violent, rhythmic rebellion against his ribs.
Bai Qi didn't look at him directly. He turned his face away, his jaw set in a hard, obsidian line, acting as if he were anywhere but a hospital room. He looked as though he didn't give a damn about the world, yet the way his fingers gripped a small, silk-wrapped box told a different story.
A deep, visceral blush flooded Shu Yao's translucent cheeks. He quickly averted his gaze, his voice a mere thread of sound behind the oxygen mask.
"I... I didn't think he would come," Shu Yao murmured.
Bai Qi's brow knitted together. He marched toward the bedside, his movements sharp and calculated.
"What the hell are you doing, staring at the door like a lost dog?" Bai Qi barked, though the edge of his voice lacked its usual lethal bite.
Shu Yao swallowed hard, leaning back into the pillows with agonizing slowness. Every inch of his torso felt like it was being squeezed by heated iron.
"Nothing, Sir," he whispered, his brown eyes shimmering with a mysterious, sorrowful light. "I just... I didn't expect..."
Bai Qi cleared his throat, the sound harsh in the quiet room. He caught a glimpse of Shu Yao's eyes—those beautiful, haunting eyes that had stared back at him in his nightmares the night before. He saw the "Saint" again, the boy who smiled while the world turned to ice.
He clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking. He reached forward and placed the midnight-blue box on the edge of the bed. He didn't throw it; for the first time, he was afraid that a careless gesture would shatter the fragile peace of the room.
Shu Yao gasped softly, looking at the elegant wrap. "What is this, Sir?"
"It's a phone," Bai Qi stated, refusing to meet his eyes. He felt his own face heating up, a sensation he despised. "Since you've been using that old, prehistoric shit for years, I bought a new one. Efficiency Nothing more."
Shu Yao's eyes widened as he looked at the logo on the box. It was an iPhone 17—a device that cost more than most people made in a year.
"But Sir... it's it's too expensive," Shu Yao stammered, his fingers trembling near the silk. "I can't possibly accept this. It's way too—"
"If I am giving you something," Bai Qi interrupted, his voice rising to a sharp bark, "you will take it obediently. Otherwise, I'll open that window and throw it into the street. Do you understand?"
Shu Yao flinched, his gaze dropping to the white sheets. "I... I am sorry, Sir. Thank you."
Bai Qi felt a perverse sense of pride. He liked the obedience, but the sight of Shu Yao's slumped shoulders made a strange ache bloom in his chest. He took a deep breath, preparing for the part of the conversation he dreaded most.
"Now, listen carefully," Bai Qi began, his voice dropping into a low, uneasy register. "Your damn phone was switched off since yesterday."
"Yes, Sir," Shu Yao whispered.
"And Your mother was calling you non-stop," Bai Qi continued, his eyes fixed on the heart monitor. "She is home. She said... she wants to see you."
The effect was instantaneous. Shu Yao's eyes trembled, and his lower lip began to quiver uncontrollably. The mention of his mother was a key turning in a lock he had kept rusted shut.
"She... she wants to see me?" Shu Yao's voice broke.
"She does," Bai Qi said, still acting as if he didn't care about the tears starting to well in the boy's eyes. "But you can't go to her like this. If she sees you in this state, she'll be disappointed. She'll ask questions I don't want to answer."
Shu Yao didn't hear the warning. He only heard the word home. He believed she hated him. He believed he was an exile from her heart.
The tears began to fall silently, hot and fast, disappearing into the edges of his oxygen mask. In a moment of sheer emotional overwhelm, Shu Yao reached up and lowered the mask to wipe his face.
The moment the seal broke, his lungs rebelled. He gasped, his chest hitching as he struggled to pull in the thin hospital air.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bai Qi roared.
He lunged forward, his large hands grabbing Shu Yao's wrists. He was horrified by how thin they felt—how easily they could snap.
"I... I am sorry, Sir... I just..." Shu Yao tried to speak, but he was drowning in his own tears and the lack of oxygen.
Bai Qi's jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He felt a vulnerability he couldn't control. He grabbed the mask and shoved it back over Shu Yao's face, his movements rough but his eyes filled with a panicked intensity.
"If you dare take that off again, I will not let you out of this room for a lifetime," Bai Qi threatened.
The monitor was screaming now.
Ting-ting-ting-ting.
Shu Yao wasn't listening. He was lost in the wreckage of his own mind—the guilt of being a bad son, the grief for his sister, and the overwhelming weight of Bai Qi's presence.
He began to sob, his entire body trembling, the broken rib sending fresh waves of agony through his torso.
He grabbed at his chest, hiccuping through the tears.
"Shut up," Bai Qi muttered, his voice shaking. "Shut the hell up, Shu Yao. If you keep crying, you're going to end up back in surgery."
But Shu Yao couldn't stop. He was a dam that had finally burst.
Bai Qi looked at the monitor, then at the shattered man before him. He knew Shu Yao loved him. He had knowm it so he will used it as a weapon.
But seeing the love turn into this—into this jagged, sobbing mess—shattered the last of the Monarch's ice.
In one swift, rude motion, Bai Qi leaned down and pulled Shu Yao into a crushing embrace.
It wasn't a gentle hug. It was firm, almost aggressive, as if he were trying to hold Shu Yao's soul together by sheer physical force.
Shu Yao gasped, his breath hitching as his face was pressed into the expensive wool of Bai Qi's coat.
"Now shut the hell up," Bai Qi commanded, his voice muffled against Shu Yao's hair.
Shu Yao froze for a heartbeat, then slowly, tentatively, he nuzzled his head into the crook of Bai Qi's shoulder. He let out a soft, broken cry, his hands clutching the back of Bai Qi's coat like a lifeline.
Bai Qi froze. A deep, hot blush crept up his neck, staining his ears. He felt the warmth of Shu Yao's breath through the mask, the dampness of the tears on his shoulder. He swallowed hard, his mouth opening to say something cruel to regain control, but the words wouldn't come.
He simply stood there, a King holding a ghost, while the morning sun finally broke through the blinds and illuminated the ruins of his heart.