They dragged Han's body away, but Jet remained frozen. His parents rushed to him, pulling him back to reality. Han had been killed—by his own brother. And Jet didn't know how to feel.
The news spread fast. Han's father, the military general, arrived immediately, capturing Jet's brother and sentencing him to prison. But Jet… Jet stayed home, never stepping outside.
Whispers and rumors swirled once again. They spoke of Jet and Han, of how they had been lovers. But there was nothing left to say.
When spring arrived, Jet was finally forced out of his room—to get married.
"You knew this would happen, Feng Jet, so don't look so upset on your happy day, alright?" his mother said as she applied makeup.
Jet didn't respond, only offering a small smile.
The Omega quietly sobbed as he was taken away in a bridal sedan chair, his hands trembling in his lap.
He met his new family, bowing to them and his Beta wife before lifting the teacup to his lips.
But the tea tasted wrong.
Jet coughed. His throat burned, swelling shut. He couldn't breathe. His airway tightened, and then his lungs felt like it began to shrink. His chest caved inward as if crumbling from the inside. He gasped for air, for help—but they only watched.
They had planned this.
Grinning faces surrounded him. They hadn't accepted Feng Jet into their family after the rumours, he was going to ruin the family name—again. They had only let him in to ruin him.
His supposed wife stepped forward, shoving him to the ground. Then, with cruel ease, she placed her foot on his chest.
Jet heard the crack before he felt it.
And then, there was nothing.
—-
Jet shot up, gasping for air. His hands clutched his throat, breaths loud and ragged, shaking Han awake.
"What's wrong?" Han sat up immediately, reaching for him.
Jet's chest rose and fell in uneven heaves, tears streaking down his face. His voice was barely a whisper. "I was poisoned…"
Han's expression darkened with worry before he pulled Jet into his arms. "Breathe," he murmured, running a hand up and down Jet's back. "Just breathe. You're not there anymore. There's nothing to be afraid of."
Jet fell into the embrace, crying softly from fear—he could still feel it. The burning in his throat, the way the world blurred at the edges, the crushing weight on his chest. It wasn't just a memory. It was real. Too real.
Han held him tighter, rubbing slow circles into his back. "It's over," he whispered. "That life is gone."
Jet's fingers clutched at Han's arms, his body trembling as the past refused to let go. "I felt it," he choked out. "The poison, the pain, the way they looked at me… They enjoyed it."
Han's jaw tightened. His grip on Jet was firm, grounding. "They can't touch you now."
Jet shut his eyes, burying his face against Han's shoulder, but even in the darkness, the memories clawed at him. His own family had sent him away, abandoned him to die in the hands of strangers. And Han… Han had already been taken from him.
He shivered violently. "I never made it to you," he whispered, the words shaking with grief. "I never got to see you again."
Han exhaled slowly, his hand threading through Jet's hair. "I'm here now."
Jet let out a quiet sob, nodding against him.
They sat in silence, Han's warmth shielding him from the ghosts of a life long lost. Slowly, the storm inside Jet began to settle. His breathing evened out, and the tight grip of fear loosened, bit by bit.
Han didn't say anything more—he didn't have to. He just held him, a steady presence against the weight of the past.
Han rocked them gently, his touch steady and grounding until Jet finally caught his breath.
"Oh heavens, I'm dramatic," Jet mumbled to himself.
Han chuckled. "Can't blame you—it was your death," he teased, pressing a soft kiss to Jet's forehead.
Jet hummed, still dazed. "Mmh… your rut is gone."
Han nodded. "What you said last night caught me so off guard that my mind cleared up instantly," he joked.
Jet smiled, shaking his head. "Didn't think I had that kind of power over you."
Han smirked. "You have no idea."
—
"Welcome back," both directors said as Han walked in.
The sound director glanced around. "Your boyfriend didn't come? Too bad."
Han shook his head. "He's busy working."
They nodded in understanding before Han went to start filming.
Back at the studio apartment, Jet sat on the sofa, laptop balanced on his lap, typing away. His latest book was deeply personal—written from his character's perspective but based on his own life.
His first volume of It Felt So Surreal is still selling out in stores. It hadn't started as an online novel, unlike the many stories he posted on a reading app. But his works never went unnoticed—readers loved them, and demand for a physical copy grew. Jet decided to take the leap, signing a contract with the app's publishing company. After paying a small fee, his books were printed and placed on shelves. They sold out almost immediately.
Encouraged by its success, Jet continued writing, but this time, he made a bold choice—this new book would be physical-only, with no digital release. Readers snatched up copies as soon as they were printed, forcing the company to reprint more due to high demand.
While it was exciting to publish freely, Jet had strict personal standards. If a story didn't feel right to him, he would scrap it and start over.
Just like with this second volume. He'd rewritten it countless times, but in the end, he chose to be honest with himself. This book wasn't just a story—it was his story.
"Feels weird, writing my feelings for my lover," Jet muttered, staring at the screen, a little embarrassed. "But… he's the reason I'm writing this."
As he thought back to Han—the teasing, the quiet understanding, the way Han knew exactly when to push and when to hold back—Jet's heart warmed.
The way Han cradled him, touched him, kissed him, lovedhim…
Jet's face flushed as he typed, feeling the heat creep up his neck.
His hamster squeaked from the side, as if laughing at him.
"Don't laugh," Jet said calmly.
—
Over the next few weeks, Han grew bolder. Whenever he had free time, he would pick Jet up for a simple date—grabbing coffee at a café or taking a quiet walk through the city.
To avoid drawing attention, Han wore a mask and sunglasses, while Jet pulled a cap low over his face, pairing it with a mask. At first, Jet thought it was just to match Han's aesthetic, but Han quickly corrected him.
"It's to keep people from taking pictures."
Jet didn't mind. He was just happy to have time with Han.
At the start of their outings, they walked with a professional distance between them—side by side but apart. But as the day stretched on, that space disappeared.
By the time they made their way back, their hands were fully intertwined, fingers laced together as they walked through the streets, sticking as close as possible.
The two Alphas walked with confidence, their towering heights naturally drawing attention. It wasn't common to see two Alphas together like this—especially ones as handsome as them. People couldn't help but stare, whisper, and steal glances.
At a café, a group of students sat nearby, nudging each other. "Holy shit. Are they together?"
"They're literally holding hands. I thought Alphas only went for Omegas."
"Who cares? This is the best thing I've seen all day."
Other onlookers had similar reactions—some admiring the sight, others snapping discreet photos. Before long, Jet started noticing short clips of them floating online. Fans were already in full gossip mode, completely unaware that one of the men was Yau Han, a famous actor.
"TWO Alphas? Together?? Oh, this is some good tea."
"I don't know who they are, but I ship it."
"I swear one of them looks familiar…"
Han, of course, was the first to send a clip to Jet.
"Oh look, it's us."
Jet rolled his eyes at the text, but his smile lingered.
The clips of the two Alphas being all cutesy in public were going viral, catching the attention of countless watchers—including Victor.
He wasted no time rushing over to Mrs. Yau, phone in hand.
"Doesn't one of them look familiar?" he asked, pointing at Han in the video.
Mrs. Yau took a slow drag from her cigar, eyes narrowing as she watched. Then, a smirk curled on her lips.
"Find the location," she said, exhaling smoke. "And get me some paparazzi. We're doing a little photoshoot."