Yao Ziyang sniffled one last time, still pressed against him. Wei Jiang gave it a moment longer, then gently pulled back just enough to see his face.
"You know what you need?"
He said, forcing a smile.
"A change of scenery."
Yao Ziyang blinked.
"Huh?"
"A walk…"
Wei Jiang said.
"Outside. There's a garden. Real trees, flowers, even a koi pond. It's locked off from the other inmates. No one will bother us."
Yao Ziyang's eyes widened.
"There's a garden here?"
Wei Jiang nodded.
"You've been stuck in bed too long. But only if you're really healed. Can you walk alright?"
Yao Ziyang stood up straight, lifting his arms and spinning lightly in place.
"See? Good as new."
Wei Jiang chuckled.
"Alright then. After you eat, change into something warmer. I'll take you."
Yao Ziyang smiled, the warmth of the hug still clinging to him as he turned toward the side table. The tray Wei Jiang had brought sat there neatly arranged, steam still rising faintly from the bowl at its center, and something about the simple sight of it—so ordinary, so grounding—made his chest feel lighter. Without thinking too much, he picked it up carefully and carried it over to the small dining table tucked against the wall, setting it down with a soft clink.
He didn't sit right away. Instead, he leaned forward, already reaching for the spoon, his movements just a little too quick, driven by a sudden urgency to finish quickly. The first bite was already halfway to his mouth when Wei Jiang's hand shot out, stopping him mid-motion.
"Hey…"
Wei Jiang said, his tone firm but not harsh, stepping closer.
"Slow down. It's not a race."
Yao Ziyang blinked, startled, the spoon hovering awkwardly between them.
"But I really wanna go now and see the garden!"
He protested, a slight pout forming almost instantly, his brows knitting together in mild frustration.
"I can see that…"
Wei Jiang replied, letting out a quiet breath, his expression softening despite himself.
"But if you eat like that after not having anything for hours, you'll just end up feeling sick. Take your time. The garden's not going anywhere—we've got plenty of time to go after you finish."
Yao Ziyang held his gaze for a moment longer, clearly tempted to argue, but then he sighed, shoulders relaxing as he gave a small, reluctant nod.
"…Fine…"
He muttered, settling into the chair.
"But only because the food looks too good to scarf down."
Wei Jiang's lips twitched faintly at that, stepping back to give him space, though he remained close enough to keep an eye on him.
This time, Yao Ziyang sat down and properly brought the spoon to his lips more slowly.
The porridge was warm—perfectly so—not too hot, not too cool, the texture smooth and comforting as it spread across his tongue. It wasn't plain, either; there was a subtle richness to it, something savory that lingered at the back of his mouth, accented with finely shredded chicken and slivers of ginger that added just enough brightness without overwhelming the softness of the dish. A faint hint of sesame oil tied it all together, giving it a depth that made it far more satisfying than it looked.
Yao Ziyang's eyes widened slightly.
"Oh…"
He murmured, almost to himself.
He hadn't realized just how hungry he was until that first bite settled in his stomach, warmth spreading outward in a way that made him feel grounded again, steady. The next spoonful came a little quicker, though still within the limits Wei Jiang had set, and then another after that.
Beside the bowl, there were slices of fruit—crisp apple, pale pear, and a few pieces of something sweeter, their juices glistening faintly under the light. He picked one up between bites, the cool freshness a sharp contrast to the warmth of the porridge, cleansing his palate and making the next mouthful taste even better.
Before long, his earlier pout had completely disappeared.
Yao Ziyang leaned slightly over the table now, fully focused, his earlier urgency redirected into quiet concentration as he ate. The rhythm of it became almost automatic—spoon, swallow, fruit, repeat—his movements steady, unhurried, but undeniably eager in their own way.
Wei Jiang watched him from where he stood, arms loosely crossed, something softer settling in his expression again.
Yao Ziyang didn't notice.
For the moment, everything else—the worry, the questions, even the excitement about the garden—had slipped quietly into the background, replaced by the simple, undeniable satisfaction of being warm, fed, and no longer empty.
Once he finished, Yao Ziyang hurried over to the dresser and pulled out a freshly folded prison uniform—one of the modified, softer ones made just for him. He slipped it on quickly, brushing down the fabric with practiced grace. The simple gray tones somehow made him look even more refined, like royalty playing dress-up.
Wei Jiang watched with quiet amusement, and when Yao Ziyang was ready, he extended his good arm.
"Shall we?"
Yao Ziyang took it gladly, and the two stepped out of the suite together.
Down the corridor, they passed guards who stiffened immediately at the sight of them—especially when they recognized Wei Jiang's expression. None dared stop them.
The descent down the winding stairs was slow but not uncomfortable. Yao Ziyang leaned against Wei Jiang from time to time—not because he was tired or sore, he told himself. Wei Jiang didn't seem to mind.
Wei Jiang and Yao Ziyang had only just made it to the ground floor when a familiar voice echoed from down the hall.
"Ah—Yo, Bro Wei!"
They both turned.
Chen Bo jogged up to them, looking distinctly less smug than usual. His collar was askew, his lower lip slightly swollen, and a faint red handprint stood out on one cheek. His usual playful glint had dulled, and he carried himself with the begrudging gait of a man who had recently been smacked around and robbed—by Chang Xiao, no less.
"Sorry, sorry…"
Chen Bo muttered when he reached them.
"I just got chewed out by Brother Chang. Had my winnings taken, too. Bastard didn't even let me keep my cig stash…"
Yao Ziyang blinked at him in surprise.
"You look awful."
"I feel awful…"
Chen Bo sighed, rubbing the back of his head.
"Anyway—Brother Chang says he needs Bro Wei for something. Didn't say what. Just said it's urgent."
Wei Jiang's jaw tightened slightly, his body stiffening with restrained annoyance. His eyes dropped to Yao Ziyang, who looked up at him innocently, arms still curled lightly around his.
"I'll be taking over escort duty…"
Chen Bo added with a theatrical bow toward Yao Ziyang.
"The prince is now my responsibility."
Wei Jiang's eyes sharpened.
He didn't protest, but his posture said everything. His hand lingered on Yao Ziyang's back a moment longer than necessary before he finally, reluctantly, guided the boy toward Chen Bo.
"You'd better protect him…"
Wei Jiang said, voice low and firm.
"If a single hair on his head is out of place when I get back…"
He leaned in closer, his presence suddenly ten times heavier.
"I'll make Vice Warden Chang's reprimand look like a love tap."
Chen Bo rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Relax, Commander-in-Lust. I got it…"
But even with the sarcasm, he straightened and offered a lazy salute.
"I'll protect the little prince like my life depends on it. Because, let's face it—it kinda does."
Wei Jiang didn't laugh. He turned back to Yao Ziyang, his gaze softening as if trying to memorize his face.
"…Sorry…"
He said quietly.
"I don't want to leave you with him of all people."
Yao Ziyang smiled and gave a small laugh.
"You're acting like I'm being sent into exile."
Wei Jiang didn't smile back.
"I am."
His voice held that strange, dry bitterness that only barely masked real affection. Yao Ziyang touched his hand, and for a moment, it looked like Wei Jiang might refuse to leave altogether.
But then Chen Bo made an exaggerated cough and physically pushed Wei Jiang's shoulder, herding him toward the hall.
"Ahem! Go, go, go…"
Chen Bo grumbled.
"The sooner you leave, the sooner I can leave and go back to chatting up the nurses and female guards."
Wei Jiang shot him a venomous glare over his shoulder.
Yao Ziyang watched the whole exchange with open curiosity. Once Wei Jiang disappeared around the corner, his attention shifted back to Chen Bo, who had already begun leading him casually down the corridor.
Yao Ziyang tilted his head and studied the man beside him.
'So Wei Jiang's scent is warm, grounding, like a home-cooked meal and fresh dew after rain. Every step of his leaves the air sharp yet slightly charged, like an alpha barely restraining a storm.'
He glanced sideways at Chen Bo.
'And then there's Brother Chen… hmm. Definitely a beta. Milder, more playful. His scent's like tea tree and warm linen. Unbothered. Less serious. Almost charming, in a street vendor kind of way.'
Yao Ziyang smiled to himself.
'Funny. I wouldn't have guessed they were different secondary genders at first glance. But now… it makes sense.'
Still, he made no comment, following Chen Bo quietly—already thinking about what he could get out of this next escort.
After all, Chen Bo was a gossip.
And Yao Ziyang had questions.
Chen Bo casually herded Yao Ziyang through the wide corridor, one hand shoved into his pocket and the other gesturing vaguely ahead as if the path were obvious and preordained.
"So…"
He said over his shoulder.
"Where exactly were we heading before our heroic guard dog was called away by duty and manly responsibilities?"
Yao Ziyang glanced at the fluorescent-lit hall and then back at Chen Bo.
"The garden…"
He answered.
"Brother Wei was going to show me the garden."
Chen Bo's eyes lit up.
"Ah, the garden!"
He said with exaggerated pride.
"Of course you were. An excellent destination. Scenic. Serene. Romantic."
With that, he pivoted dramatically and took the lead, striding forward with new purpose.
Yao Ziyang blinked.
"…You know the way, right?"
"Pfft. Do I know the way?"
Chen Bo scoffed.
"Please. I've been in this prison since the beginning of time. I know every brick in every wall. Follow me, little prince."
Yao Ziyang did.
Quietly at first.
But curiosity began to bubble the moment they turned their first corner.
"Brother Chen…"
He asked, his voice light but probing.
"What exactly happened while I was unconscious?"
Chen Bo's steps didn't falter—if anything, he seemed to puff up, as if finally being given the opportunity to perform.
"Ohhh…"
He exhaled dramatically.
"You want the tale."
Yao Ziyang nodded, lips curling in amusement.
"Give me the tale."
"Well…"
Chen Bo began, his voice immediately dropping into a dramatic, theatrical hush.
"You collapsed. Like a delicate peach blossom fluttering to the ground in a snowstorm."
Yao Ziyang raised an eyebrow.
"You were burning up…"
Chen Bo continued.
"Really bad. Nosebleeds. Barely breathing. Black goo all over you. Or so I heard. Honestly, sounded like you looked like one of those tragic beauties in the final act of a palace drama. I thought you were done for."
Yao Ziyang crossed his arms but said nothing.
"And then…"
Chen Bo went on, voice quickening.
"Boss lost it. Like—snapped. He carried you out himself. Shouted orders. Threatened to burn down the medical wing. Ordered Miao Ruiming—yeah, that Miao Ruiming—out of his room or rather dragged him out of it or wherever he was to cure you."
Yao Ziyang blinked.
"He did what?"
"Yup! Dragged him in personally…"
Chen Bo said, nodding solemnly.
"Swear on my favorite noodles. Dr. Miao came, poked you a bit, looked real concerned, and then boom—siren, chaos, dramatic exit. You were rushed to the hospital. The Boss nearly killed three people in the hallway. And he didn't leave your side the whole time. At least, that's what the whispers say."
Yao Ziyang blinked slowly, then looked ahead again.
'If even half of that's true…'
He thought.
'Then he really did a lot for me.'
The image of Dong Yingming, all cold fury and desperation, holding him close as the world fell apart, was… affecting.
'I'll definitely have to repay him…'
He thought, a small flush creeping into his cheeks.
'Tonight. No matter what. I'll take him inside!'
But just as he was slipping into daydreams of seduction and silk sheets, reality tapped him on the shoulder.
Or rather, they passed a familiar hallway again.
Yao Ziyang paused.
"…Wait a second."
Chen Bo kept walking.
"Didn't we already pass that supply room?"
Yao Ziyang asked.
Chen Bo turned casually, still walking backwards now, arms spread like a tour guide.
"Did we? Huh. You sure?"
Yao Ziyang's brow furrowed.
"That's the third time we've passed it."
Chen Bo stopped walking.
He blinked.
Turned slowly.
Then looked around the empty corridor with complete and utter calm.
"…So…"
He said after a beat.
"There's a slight possibility we're… maybe… a little lost."
Yao Ziyang stared at him in disbelief.
Chen Bo offered a sheepish grin.
"I might have been bluffing about knowing the way."
The silence stretched.
"…You don't know where the garden is?"
Yao Ziyang asked flatly.
"I know it exists…"
Chen Bo said brightly.
"And I know it's somewhere."
Yao Ziyang sighed and rubbed his temples.
"I knew you didn't know where we were going."
He muttered, half amused and half exasperated.
"Hey, look on the bright side…"
Chen Bo offered, stepping beside him again.
"We've had a lovely walk. You learned some prison gossip. I got to stretch my legs..."
Yao Ziyang gave him a dry look.
"And maybe now you'll be grateful to see Bro Wei again."
Chen Bo added with a smirk. Yao Ziyang, despite himself, chuckled.
They stood there under the humming ceiling lights, the air lightly scented with disinfectant and distant kitchen grease, Yao Ziyang let his eyes wander briefly between Chen and the corridor ahead then folded his arms and smiled to himself.
'Well, isn't this quite the adventure outside. I don't mind it, I guess.'
"Hey, Brother Chen. There looks to be a map of the floor plan here. Take a look and get us back on track."
Yao Ziyang pointed to the wall a little further ahead. Chen Bo turned to look at where he pointed before saluting and scurrying over to take a look.
Chen Bo stared at the map tacked crookedly to the corridor wall. His finger traced one of the colored lines, tapping at a nearby labeled square.
"Aha! We're not far from the cafeteria…"
He declared.
"We can ask someone there for directions to the garden. Worst case, you get a snack out of it. I think lunch just started."
Yao Ziyang leaned in, squinting at the worn print of the prison layout.
"Looks reasonable. Lead the way, Captain Lost."
Chen Bo gave him a look but said nothing, throwing his arm around Yao Ziyang's shoulder in an exaggerated half-hug as they walked.
***
The cafeteria wasn't far. A pair of steel double doors marked the entrance, slightly scuffed, one hanging a little uneven on its hinge. The moment Chen Bo pushed them open, the two were greeted by a wave of low chatter, the clatter of trays, and the distinct smell of over-salted food and cheap coffee.
Inside, long tables were spread throughout the room, with benches filled not only with inmates finishing meals but others lounging like it was their living room. Some played cards. Others shouted across tables. A few sat with their eyes fixed on a small wall-mounted TV showing static until someone smacked it from underneath.
But the room changed the moment Yao Ziyang stepped through.
A strange hush swept across the floor.
Heads turned.
Forks paused midair.
Conversations dropped off like disconnected phone lines.
And then the staring began.
Dozens of inmates—some wide-eyed, others grinning, a few with narrowed, predatory interest—gawked at the vision that had just entered their territory. The pale-skin, fine-boned young master dressed in modified gray prison wear with hair that shimmered like moonlight. He looked far too delicate, too untouched, too wrong for the harsh concrete cafeteria.
Yao Ziyang flinched inwardly, heart stuttering. He wasn't used to this kind of attention. His back stiffened, and for a second, he looked toward Chen Bo for reassurance.
'At least I've got backup…'
"Brooo!"
Someone across the cafeteria called out. Chen Bo immediately perked up.
"Oh, hell—my guys!"
Before Yao Ziyang could stop him, Chen Bo was already heading across the room toward a group of inmates gathered at a back table, laughing and waving him over. He clapped hands with one, shoulder-bumped another, and within seconds, they were deep in conversation, swapping jokes and playing a loud card game that somehow involved slapping.
Yao Ziyang stood frozen near the doorway, feeling smaller by the second.
The murmur in the cafeteria returned, but this time it was darker, heavier. Like the buzz of flies around raw meat.
Some inmates kept their eyes on him, whispering to each other.
Others started shifting toward him. Not directly—but enough that he could feel the orbit closing in.
'Damn it, Brother Chen…'
Yao Ziyang took a cautious step back, fingers curling into his sleeves. His shoulders drew up slightly. Every breath felt tighter than the last.
That's when he noticed someone else watching him.
But this look was different.
It wasn't hungry. It wasn't mean.
It was… curious.
From a short distance away, seated at a table not far from the window, sat someone striking—legs crossed, elbow resting lightly on the back of the chair, face partially shadowed by the curve of a stylish black beret. His uniform had been tailored—somehow—into something halfway between runway-ready and prison wear. Gold stones glittered on his choker, and a silk scarf in vibrant indigo peeked out from beneath his shirt.
His nails were painted a matte lavender.
He didn't gawk at Yao Ziyang like the others.
He assessed. Measured. Judged, yes—but not cruelly.
When their eyes met, the man's lips curved into a smile.
He rose with a kind of fluid grace that made Yao Ziyang's eyes widen slightly. There was something familiar in that movement, something feminine but commanding. Not a trace of fear.
And as he approached, the scent hit Yao Ziyang all at once.
'Omega.'