Flashback:
After they finished cleaning, Dr. Shen yawned loudly. "I'm turning in. It's cold tonight there's a heating pad in that drawer. Microwave it for a minute and put it on Zhiyuan's lower belly. The cold can make the cramps worse." He gave Yichen a knowing look before heading to his own room.
Yichen nodded with a soft smile. "Doctor, wait." He hesitated. "Can I... ask you for something?"
Dr. Shen paused, turning back. "Of course. What is it?"
Yichen hesitated before speaking "Dr shen I want to learn about Zhiyuan's body about.... everything"
Dr shen looked at him for a while before a smile appeared on his face. "Okay I'll tell you everything I know"
Present:
The silence in the messy room was deafening. Zhiyuan held the pages like they were burning his skin. He looked from the frantic, loving notes back to Yichen's horrified face.
"You… you've been studying me," Zhiyuan said, the statement feeling both invasive and profoundly intimate. "Like a… a project. A medical case."
"No!" Yichen rushed forward, his hands coming up but not daring to touch him. "No, bao bei, it's not like that! I swear!"
"Then what is it like?" Zhiyuan's voice rose, hurt cracking through. "You have diagrams! Lists! Is this how you see me now? A problem to be researched? A broken thing you need to fix?"
"You are NOT broken!" Yichen's own voice broke with the force of his words. He pointed a trembling finger at the papers. "I did that because I was scared! I am still scared! I failed you! I didn't know about your body, and because I didn't know, I couldn't protect you! I couldn't protect our…"
He choked on the word, the grief still fresh.
"I don't know anything about this!" Yichen cried, gesturing wildly at the notes. "I'm a bodyguard! I know how to fight, how to shoot, how to spot a threat from a mile away! I don't know how to help someone heal from… from what you went through! Dr. Shen explains things in big medical words that just scare me more!"
He took a step closer, his eyes pleading. "So I… I started reading. I wrote it down. I tried to understand. So that next time… so that if you ever feel sick, or tired, or… or if there's a next time…"
He couldn't finish. The thought of a "next time" was both a hope and a terror.
"I did it because I love you," Yichen whispered, the fight leaving him, leaving only raw honesty. "And I was so afraid that my love wasn't enough. That I needed to be smarter. To know more. To be better for you."
Zhiyuan looked down at the notes in his hands. He saw the care in the handwriting. The underlines. The worried question marks in the margins. He saw the list of "comfort foods" with a star next to 'egg tarts.' He saw a note that said, "Zhiyuan hates feeling coddled. Must find way to help without making him feel weak."
This wasn't a cold study. It was a love letter. A desperate, clumsy, terrified love letter written in medical terms and worry.
The anger bled out of him, replaced by a wave of aching tenderness. He dropped the papers back onto the bed.
"You idiot," Zhiyuan said softly, but there was no bite in it. He reached out and took Yichen's face in his hands. "You absolute, hopeless idiot."
Yichen leaned into the touch, his eyes closing. "I know."
"I don't need a doctor in you," Zhiyuan whispered, his thumbs stroking Yichen's cheekbones. "I just need you. Your arms around me. Your stupid, stubborn loyalty. Your love. That's the only medicine I want."
He pulled Yichen's head down until their foreheads touched. "So stop studying me like a textbook. Just… be with me. That's how you help me heal."
For the first time since the pool, since Zhenlong's warnings, Yichen felt the knot of fear and guilt inside him loosen, just a little. The plan to push Zhiyuan away seemed monstrous now, faced with this simple, profound need.
He wrapped his arms around Zhiyuan and held him tight, burying his face in his hair. "Okay," he whispered, a promise into the soft strands. "Okay. I'll stay with you... forever"
And in that messy room, surrounded by evidence of his own fear-driven love, Yichen made a silent decision. He would protect Zhiyuan from everything even, if he had to, from the consequences of his own dangerous love. But he would not do it by leaving. He would do it by staying closer than ever, and being smarter, and fighting harder. For both of them.
A comfortable silence settled over them, the frantic energy of the moment dissipating. Zhiyuan finally pulled back, still holding Yichen's face, and gave a soft, weary smile.
"This room is a disaster," he stated, looking around. "And you look like you haven't slept in a week. First order of Business clean up. Then, you're taking a nap."
"I'm not tired," Yichen protested automatically, though his body ached with exhaustion.
Zhiyuan raised an eyebrow. It was the same look he used in boardrooms. "That wasn't a request. We're partners, right? That means I get to tell you when you're being stupid and need to rest."
The word 'partners' sent a warm shock through Yichen. He nodded, unable to speak.
Together, they began cleaning. Zhiyuan gathered the coffee cups while Yichen carefully stacked the papers, his cheeks flushing as he saw the frantic notes through Zhiyuan's eyes.
"You know," Zhiyuan said casually, picking up a page with a doodle of a sad-faced stick figure next to the words 'emotional support strategies.' "For a top-tier bodyguard, your artistic skills are… something else."
Yichen groaned, snatching the paper away. "Please forget you saw that."
"Never," Zhiyuan said, a genuine laugh escaping him. It was a light sound, one Yichen had missed terribly.
Once the worst of the mess was cleared, Zhiyuan pointed firmly at the now-made bed. "In. Now."
Yichen obeyed, sliding under the covers. He expected Zhiyuan to leave, but instead, he kicked off his own shoes and climbed in beside him, settling against the pillows.
"What are you doing?" Yichen asked, his heart doing that familiar, happy flip.
"Making sure you actually sleep," Zhiyuan said, as if it were obvious. He turned on his side, facing Yichen, and slung an arm over his waist, snuggling close. "And maybe I'm a little tired too. That was a lot of… everything."
Yichen's breath caught. He wrapped his arms around Zhiyuan, holding him close, feeling the solid, warm reality of him. The scent of Zhiyuan's shampoo, the steady rhythm of his breathing, it all anchored Yichen, quieting the storm in his mind.
"You don't have to study to understand me," Zhiyuan murmured into his chest, his voice drowsy. "Just ask. And just stay."
It was the simplest, most impossible request. Just stay.
Yichen pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "I will," he whispered, a vow made in the quiet afternoon light. All other plans of distance, of sacrifice, of broken legs and fake cheating melted away, useless against the simple, overwhelming need to keep this promise.
As their breathing slowed and synced, Yichen made another vow, this one to himself. He would find another way. He would become so strong, so clever, so untouchable that his love would be a shield, not a weapon pointed at Zhiyuan's heart. He would protect this peace they'd found, no matter the cost.
But for now, the cost was simply sleep. And with Zhiyuan safe in his arms, Yichen finally let his eyes close, drifting into the first deep, dreamless rest he'd had in days.
Later that evening, Yichen was pulled from a deep sleep by the harsh buzz of his phone. He jolted awake, fumbling for it quickly so it wouldn't wake Zhiyuan, who was still sleeping peacefully beside him.
He saw the caller ID: BOSS.
He slid out of bed carefully and answered in a hushed voice. "Yes, Boss?"
"I'm sending you a location," Zhenlong's voice came through, loud and clear over the line. No hello, no explanation. "Come here. Hurry up."
The call ended. A second later, a map location pinged on Yichen's phone. He frowned, deeply confused. What could be so urgent at this hour?
He threw on a jacket, gave one last look at the sleeping Zhiyuan, and slipped out of the room.
The location led him to one of Zhenlong's high-end clubs in the city. The bass from the music vibrated through the pavement before he even reached the door. He pushed inside, the wall of sound hitting him like a physical force. Strobe lights flashed. The place was packed, but not with regular customers. It was filled with Zhenlong's men, drinking, laughing, dancing. It looked like a private party.
Yichen scanned the room and spotted Zhenlong up in the VIP lounge, leaning back on a plush sofa, casually sipping a drink as he watched the chaos below.
Yichen made his way up, his frown deepening. "Boss," he said, raising his voice over the music. "Why did you call me here? Is there an emergency?"
Zhenlong looked over at him, a lazy smile on his face. "Emergency? No. I was getting bored here alone. So I called you."
Yichen stared at him, disbelief turning to annoyance. "Boss, you know me. I don't like these places." The loud, pulsing music was already giving him a headache. He preferred quiet, control, vigilance. This was sensory overload.
Zhenlong just chuckled and shoved a full glass of amber liquid into Yichen's hand. "Loosen up. I'm just helping you."
"Helping me with what?" Yichen asked, utterly bewildered. Before he could get an answer, Zhenlong raised his own glass in a 'cheers' motion and fixed Yichen with a look that brooked no argument.
Feeling he had no choice, Yichen winced and downed the strong alcohol in one go. It burned a fiery path down his throat, making him cough.
"Good!" Zhenlong laughed, and immediately refilled Yichen's glass from a nearby bottle. Then, he made a subtle gesture to a few of his men standing nearby.
Two large guys stepped forward, clapped Yichen on the shoulders, and with loud, cheerful shouts, began steering him pushing him, down the steps and onto the main dance floor.
"Hey—wait—no!" Yichen tried to protest, but the music swallowed his words. The alcohol was already hitting his empty stomach, making his head swim. The men around him, his own colleagues, were laughing, dancing sloppily, and pulling him into their circle.
He tried to pull away, but they just pushed him back, laughing harder. Someone shoved another drink into his hand. Feeling dizzy and out of his element, Yichen could only give a weak, confused laugh as he tried to refuse. The world started to get blurry and tilt a little.
From his VIP perch, Zhenlong watched with a satisfied smirk. He made another gesture.
A moment later, a few of the club's hostesses, beautiful and dressed to impress, slithered through the crowd toward Yichen. They giggled and pressed close, their hands on his arms, his chest.
"No, no, ladies, please," Yichen mumbled, trying to gently extract himself, his movements uncoordinated. He was tipsy, confused, and wanted nothing more than to be back in the quiet room with Zhiyuan.
But the men around him kept pushing him playfully toward the women, who clung to him like glittering vines. He was trapped in a whirl of noise, light, strange hands, and the sickening, disloyal scent of perfume, all while his boss watched from above with a plan Yichen was only beginning to dread.
Yichen's head was spinning. The alcohol, the deafening music, the press of bodies it was a nightmare. He kept trying to push the hostesses away, his movements sluggish.
"Stop, please," he slurred, turning his face away as one tried to kiss his cheek.
His colleagues just roared with laughter, thinking it was all a great joke. "Come on, Yichen! Have some fun for once!"
From the VIP lounge, Zhenlong's smile was cold and calculated. He pulled out his phone, switched to the camera, and zoomed in on the scene below. He took a burst of photos. The angles were perfect Yichen surrounded by laughing women, their hands on him, his face blurred but recognizable, looking dazed and surrounded.
He selected the three most damning shots. In one, a hostess had her arms around Yichen's neck. In another, he appeared to be laughing with his head thrown back, a woman pressed to his side. The third showed him trying to pull away, but it just looked like playful resistance.
Zhenlong attached the photos to a text message. His finger hovered over the 'send' button. His target: Zhiyuan.
For a long moment, he stared at the screen, his jaw tight. This was the plan. The "cheating" plan. Create irrefutable, ugly evidence. Make Zhiyuan hurt, make him angry, make him push Yichen away for good. It was cruel. It was filthy. It was the fastest way to create the distance he thought they needed.
He thought of his son's face earlier that day, the first real peace he'd seen in his eyes since the truth came out. He thought of the way Zhiyuan had protectively led a tired Yichen to his room.
Zhenlong's thumb trembled. He wasn't a good man. He'd done terrible things. But this… this felt like poisoning his son's heart all over again.
With a savage curse, he deleted the drafted message. He slammed the phone down on the table.
"ENOUGH!" Zhenlong's roar cut through the music like a knife.
The DJ instantly cut the sound. The dancing stopped. Everyone froze, looking up at their furious boss.
Zhenlong stormed down the steps. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea. He marched straight up to Yichen, who was swaying on his feet, blinking in the sudden silence.
Zhenlong grabbed him by the front of his shirt. "You," he snarled, his voice low and dangerous, "Get out of my sight. Go home. Sober up."
It was a dismissal, an angry one, but it was also an escape. The hostesses scattered. The men looked down, chastised.
Yichen, humiliated, dizzy, and utterly confused, stumbled toward the door. He didn't understand what had just happened. One minute he was being forced to "have fun," the next his boss was publicly shaming him.
As the cool night air hit his face, Yichen leaned against the wall, vomiting the alcohol onto the pavement. His body rebelled, but his mind was clearing with the shock. Zhiyuan. The thought was a clarion call. He had to get back. He shouldn't have left.
Back inside, Zhenlong poured himself a straight whiskey, his hand still shaking. He hadn't sent the photos. He'd lost his nerve. Or maybe, for the first time, he'd found a sliver of a conscience when it came to his son's happiness.
The plan had failed. But as he downed the drink, he knew the problem hadn't gone away. Yichen was still a walking target. And his love was still a potential death sentence for Zhiyuan. He just had no idea how to fix it anymore.
Yichen stumbled out of the cab, the cool night air doing little to clear the fuzzy warmth in his head. All he could think was Zhiyuan, Zhiyuan, Zhiyuan. He pushed through the front door of the estate, ignored anyone he passed, and made a beeline for the bedroom.
He pushed the door open. Inside, Zhiyuan was sitting on the edge of the bed, frowning at his phone. He'd been calling.
Zhiyuan looked up, his frown deepening. "Where were you? I've been calling you! I woke up and you were gone."
Yichen didn't answer with words. He just shuffled forward, wrapped his arms around Zhiyuan in a tight, clumsy hug, and buried his face in his neck with a happy, drunken giggle. "I love you," he mumbled, the words slurred but fervent.
Zhiyuan couldn't help it he chuckled, the worry melting into amusement. He patted Yichen's back. "Okay, okay. I love you too, you big idiot. Now stay away, you smell like a distillery."
The words hit Yichen like a cold splash. He jerked back as if burned, almost losing his balance. "Dirty!" he declared, horrified. "I'm dirty! Don't come near me!" He took wobbly steps backward. "I… hic… I'll go clean up! How could I touch you with dirty hands?"
"It's okay," Zhiyuan said, still laughing softly. He got up and reached for him. "Get back here. I don't care."
"No!" Yichen insisted, shaking his head vigorously, which made the room spin. "No, no, no." He turned and made a determined, if very unsteady, march toward the attached bathroom.
Zhiyuan, his heart full of a fond, exasperated warmth, pulled out his phone. This was too good not to record.
Inside the bathroom, Yichen braced his hands on the sink and glared at the running faucet. "Stay… stay still!" he commanded the water, trying to rub his hands under it but missing several times. He splashed water on his face and then vigorously rubbed his mouth, making a mess.
He lifted his arm and sniffed his sleeve. His face crumpled in dismay. "I still smell so bad!" he whined, his voice echoing pitifully off the tiles.
Deciding the clothes had to go, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and tried to pull it over his head. It got stuck halfway. He struggled, twisting and turning.
"Yuan!" he called out, his voice muffled by the fabric. "I'm... I'm stuck! Help! I'm stuck!"
From the doorway, Zhiyuan was laughing so hard he had to lean against the wall, tears streaming from his eyes, his stomach aching. His phone faithfully recorded the scene: Yichen, with his head and one arm trapped inside his own shirt, stumbling in a small circle in the middle of the bathroom, whining for help like a distressed toddler.
It was chaotic, ridiculous, and the most purely happy either of them had felt in weeks.
Zhiyuan finally managed to stop laughing long enough to step in and rescue Yichen. He gently untangled the shirt from his head and arms, pulling it off.
"There," Zhiyuan said, still chuckling. "Free."
He guided the wobbly Yichen to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. He took a towel and gently wiped the smeared water and confusion from Yichen's face.
Yichen just sat there, letting him, his gaze soft and unwavering. He stared at Zhiyuan as if he were seeing something miraculous. An angel in the harsh bathroom light.
Seeing that intense, adoring look, Zhiyuan's cheeks flushed pink. He looked away, focusing on the cloth. "Let's… let's get you to bed," he mumbled, his voice suddenly shy.
He helped Yichen stand and carefully led him back to the bed, laying him down. He pulled the covers up over him before sliding in on his own side.
But Yichen just rolled onto his side, his dark eyes still fixed on Zhiyuan's face in the dim room. He reached out a hand, his fingers lightly tracing Zhiyuan's jawline.
"Can I kiss you?" Yichen whispered, his voice rough from the alcohol but full of a raw, sober tenderness.
Zhiyuan's breath hitched. "Why… why are you asking?" he whispered back. Yichen never asked. He just… did.
"Because you're perfect," Yichen murmured, as if it were the simplest truth in the world. "And I don't want to mess up."
Before Zhiyuan could answer, Yichen leaned in. The kiss was soft at first, a little clumsy, tasting the ghost of Alcohol. But it was so full of feeling that Zhiyuan's heart clenched.
He reached up, cradling Yichen's face to steady him, and deepened the kiss himself. It was a silent yes.
A low groan vibrated in Yichen's chest. His hands, which had been gentle, grew more sure. One slid from Zhiyuan's cheek down to his waist, pulling him flush against his body. The other hand slipped under the hem of Zhiyuan's soft t-shirt, his warm palm spreading against the bare skin of his back.
Zhiyuan gasped into the kiss at the touch, a shiver running through him. He couldn't help it he pressed himself closer, arching into Yichen's body, seeking more of the heat and the solid reassurance of him.
The careful distance, the confusion, the outside threats all of it faded into the background. There was only this the taste, the touch, the shared breath, and the overwhelming need to be as close as two people could possibly be.