The sun was a dying ember on the horizon, bleeding a bruised purple and orange across the glass skin of the Rothenberg Tower.
Inside his executive office, Bai Qi stood motionless. His phone lay on the mahogany desk, a cold, black slab of silence. For three hours, he had waited for a ringtone that never came. For three hours, the "Ice Monarch" had been ghosted by a boy who usually trembled at the sound of his footsteps.
"Never," Bai Qi hissed to the empty room, his voice a jagged shard of ice. "Fine. If you wish to disappear, Shu Yao, do it when the world isn't watching."
He snatched the phone and marched toward the private elevator. He needed to prepare. He needed to be meticulous. If he were to dine with Ming Su—the living reflection of his lost heart—he would do so with the precision of a king. He would go home, shed the skin of a businessman, and don the armor of the man Qing Yue had loved.
He was unaware that as he planned his wardrobe, the boy he cursed was struggling to simply hold his head upright.
Three miles away, the private hospital room was a vault of sterile, white indifference.
Shu Yao lay pinned to the mattress by the weight of his own exhaustion. The beeping of the monitor was a rhythmic, mechanical pulse that offered no comfort, only the constant reminder that his heart was still forced to beat.
His eyes were raw—twin pools of bloodshot agony. He had been crying for so long that the salt had crusted on his pale skin. Every time he tried to shift, to peel himself away from the sheets, a lightning strike of pain lanced through his skull.
The doctor had spoken of malnutrition and stress, but Shu Yao didn't understand those terms. For him, hunger was a constant, and trauma was the air he breathed. He had lived in the shadows for so long that he had forgotten what it felt like to exist outside of a crisis.
He didn't think about his failing organs or the IV needle bruising his vein. He thought of Bai Qi. He thought of the man walking into the serpent's den. And then, his mind, fractured by fever and grief, began to drift backward.
Back to a time before the blood and the fire. Back to the scent of flowers.
"The High School Ghost"
The memory arrived with the smell of damp earth and adolescent hope.
It was a spring afternoon, The high school was a gothic cathedral of privilege, where the air was thick with the scent of mown grass and the arrogance of the wealthy.
Qing Yue sat on a stone bench, her sixteen-year-old face illuminated by the dappled sunlight. She was writing in a notebook, her bobbed hair swaying as she worked. She was the sun around which the entire school orbited.
And Bai Qi... Bai Qi was a walking god.
He was the genius of the math hall, the titan of the sports field, a golden boy with a reckless, soft love that made everyone in the halls worship him. He moved with an effortless, masculine grace, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his ivory chest to reveal a star-shaped locket that shimmered against his skin.
His sleek wolfcut was perfectly styled, a dark halo for a beautiful diva in a deep blue blazer.
Shu Yao stood thirty feet away, hidden in the shadow of a pillar.
He was dressed with a painful, stifling modesty. His deep blue blazer was buttoned to the very throat, the golden cufflinks gleaming like shackles. His hair was shorter then, but his autumn-brown eyes were already full of a love he had no right to carry.
He watched as Bai Qi approached the bench where Qing Yue sat. Bai Qi was clutching a bouquet of crimson roses—vibrant, red, and beautiful.
Shu Yao's heart lurched. A visceral, agonizing pang of irony struck him. Those roses... they were Shu Yao's favorite. He loved the ones without thorns, the ones with a scent so sweet it felt like a dream. He had once mentioned it in passing, never dreaming that Bai Qi would buy them.
But Bai Qi hadn't bought them for him. He had bought Shu Yao's favorites to give to the girl they both loved.
Bai Qi stood there, a rare, boyish blush staining his cheeks. He was hesitant, his usual bravado failing him in the face of Qing Yue's serene indifference. He tried to hide the bouquet behind his back, looking like a flustered deity.
Shu Yao couldn't stand it. He couldn't watch the boy he loved suffer from embarrassment, even if the cure was to help him win another's heart.
Shu Yao stepped out of the shadows, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He approached Bai Qi, his steps hesitant, his fingers clutching the strap of his schoolbag so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Bai... Bai Qi," he whispered, his voice a stuttering, shy breath.
Bai Qi spun around, startled. His eyes, dark and piercing, landed on Shu Yao. He didn't even know Shu Yao's name then; he only saw a classmate who had witnessed his vulnerability.
"You?" Bai Qi snapped, his voice a mix of arrogance and shame. He shoved the roses further behind his back. "What are you doing here?"
Shu Yao looked down, unable to meet that lethal gaze. He saw the star necklace glinting. He saw the perfection of Bai Qi's presence.
"She... she doesn't like roses," Shu Yao said, the words barely audible.
Bai Qi froze. His jaw dropped slightly.
"What?"
"Qing Yue," Shu Yao continued, his voice cracking with the weight of his own secret sorrow. "She likes lilies. White lilies. She doesn't hate roses... but they aren't her favorite.
She only likes them because... because I do."
Bai Qi's face transformed. The blush deepened into a dark, mortified red. He realized Shu Yao had seen the bouquet. He realized he had made a mistake in the theatre of romance.
"You saw them?" Bai Qi hissed, his pride wounded.
Shu Yao looked up then, his long lashes wet with a sorrow Bai Qi was too young to understand. "I saw... "
Without another word, Bai Qi turned and walked away, his stride long and angry.
He was embarrassed, fled from the conversation like a man caught in a lie. He didn't thank Shu Yao.
He didn't look back.
He left Shu Yao standing alone in the garden, surrounded by the scent of roses that would never be his.
Bai Qi hadn't just walked away that afternoon in the garden; he had retreated like a wounded predator, his pride hemorrhaging. He was a god in those halls—a mercurial, golden genius—and the fact that a quiet, nameless boy in a buttoned-up collar knew the intimate secrets of Qing Yue's heart was a humiliation he couldn't digest.
He didn't see Shu Yao's hand hovering in the air, a silent gesture of peace that went unreciprocated.
Outside the school gates, the sky turned a bruised, petulant grey. A sudden downpour began to lash the pavement, turning the world into a watery blur. Bai Qi sat in the back of his sleek, black sedan, his jaw tight as he stared out the tinted window.
Then, he saw them.
Through the veil of rain, Qing Yue was laughing. Beside her, Shu Yao held a large, black umbrella, tilting it so far over her that his own shoulder was soaked. They were close—so close that Bai Qi's vision clouded with a sudden, toxic jealousy.
A rival. That was the only word Bai Qi's arrogant mind could find. He didn't see the resemblance in their eyes or the shared blood in their smiles. He only saw a boy who had stolen the gaze of the girl he worshipped.
"Drive," Bai Qi barked, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the leather armrest. He left them behind in the rain, unaware that he was running away from the only person who truly understood him.
The following day, the sun returned with a cruel, mocking brightness.
Bai Qi was not a man to accept defeat.
He had visited the most expensive nursery in the city, procuring a bouquet of roses so red they looked like a bleeding heart. He had spent an hour meticulously shearing every thorn from the stems, his fingers stained with green sap and a desperate, reckless hope.
He headed for the courtyard where Qing Yue usually ate lunch. She was there, sitting alone, her eyes searching the crowd. She was waiting for her brother, but to Bai Qi, she looked like a lonely princess waiting for a king.
Meanwhile, in a desolate classroom on the second floor, Shu Yao was on his knees.
The older boys—the ones who envied Bai Qi but took their rage out on the weak—had punished him for "looking at them the wrong way." They had forced him to scrub the floors and polish every desk until his fingers bled.
Shu Yao stayed silent. He never fought back. He knew that if he sparked a war, the shrapnel would hit Qing Yue. He would rather be a floor-rag for the bullies than let a single shadow fall on his sister.
When he was finally released, his body ached with a dull, thrumming pain. He walked down the corridor, his head down, until he saw a flash of gold in the courtyard below.
Bai Qi was there, standing amidst the stone pillars, obsessively adjusting the petals of his thornless roses.
Shu Yao's heart lurched. A blush, soft and unbidden, warmed his weary cheeks. Even through his exhaustion, he saw the beauty of Bai Qi's devotion. He saw the way the sunlight caught the star locket at his throat.
He's going to fail again, Shu Yao thought, a pang of sorrow lancing through him. She won't take them.
Against his own survival instincts, Shu Yao descended the stairs. He approached the golden boy once more, his frame shivering with a mix of fear and an incurable, quiet love.
"B... Bai Qi," he whispered.
Bai Qi spun around, his eyes flashing with a sudden, volatile anger. He saw the boy who had witnessed his failure, the boy he had spent the night hating.
"She... she won't like those," Shu Yao said, his voice a thready, serene melody.
Bai Qi lunged.
The movement was so fast Shu Yao didn't have time to flinch. Bai Qi's shadow fell over him like a shroud, pinning him against the cool stone of a pillar. Shu Yao's heart skipped a frantic beat as he felt the heat radiating from the taller boy.
"You," Bai Qi hissed, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. He reached up, his long fingers raking through his own dark wolfcut in a gesture of sheer, agitated frustration. "You think you know her? You think you can tell me how to win her heart?"
Shu Yao's eyes widened, his long lashes fluttering. He was trapped between the stone and the god. He could smell the roses and the expensive cologne, a heady mix that made his head spin.
"I will do everything as I like," Bai Qi growled, his face inches from Shu Yao's. "Stay out of my way."
Shu Yao was speechless. He wanted to tell him the truth, but the words were choked by the sheer proximity of the man he loved.
"Gege!"
The voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Qing Yue came charging across the courtyard, her eyes blazing with a protective fire. She saw the way Bai Qi was looming over her brother, and her instinct—the one that made her the "older" sister in spirit—took over.
She stepped between them, her small hand slamming against Bai Qi's chest, pushing him back.
"Whatever you are, stay away from my Gege!" she yelled, her voice echoing in the empty courtyard.
Bai Qi froze, his eyes widening in total, fractured disbelief. Gege? He looked at the boy he had accused of being a rival.
He looked at the girl who was now baring her teeth at him like a lioness.
"Qing'er, no," Shu Yao stammered, his face turning a deep crimson. "You've mistaken it. He isn't... he isn't bullying me."
Qing Yue turned, her hands cupping Shu Yao's cheeks with a fierce, worried tenderness. "But Gege, I saw him! I can't trust anyone who looks at you like that."
Shu Yao felt a wave of shyness wash over him as his sister treated him like a child in front of his crush.
He gently took her hands, rubbing the back of her head to soothe her.
"No, Qing'er. He isn't like the others. He's... he's different."
Shu Yao turned his gaze to Bai Qi, who was standing there in a state of catatonic shock. Bai Qi was terrified—terrified that this beautiful, fierce girl would hate him forever because of a misunderstanding.
But Shu Yao was not a boy of vengeance. He was a healer.
He placed his hands on Qing Yue's shoulders, gently turning her to face Bai Qi. A serene, heartbreakingly kind smile touched his lips.
"Bai Qi is my friend," Shu Yao lied, his voice steady for the first time. "He... he wants to be your friend, Qing'er. He was just asking me for advice on the flowers."
Bai Qi's breath hitched. He looked at Shu Yao, seeing the incredible generosity of a soul that had just saved his reputation.
"Flowers?" Qing Yue asked, her brow furrowing. "What flowers?"
Shu Yao nodded toward the bouquet Bai Qi was still hiding. "He wanted to know if you liked them too."
Bai Qi, sensing the narrow window of salvation Shu Yao had opened for him, slowly brought the roses forward. His hands were trembling. "Will... will you be my friend?"
Qing Yue raised an eyebrow, her protective stance softening into a playful, arrogant curiosity. She looked at the roses, then at the blushing boy with the wolfcut.
"Well," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "If you really want to be my friend, you'll have to listen to what I say. I have a lot of rules."
"Qing'er!" Shu Yao reprimanded softly, but he was smiling.
Qing Yue stuck her tongue out at her brother and laughed—a bright, bell-like sound that seemed to chase the shadows away. "Don't worry, Gege. I think we'll be very good friends. If he's a quick learner."
Bai Qi was mesmerized. He watched her laugh, enchanted by her beauty, completely unaware that the boy standing beside her was the one who had actually woven the threads of their fate.
Shu Yao watched them both, his heart a mix of agonizing pain and a strange, hollow peace. He had done it. He had given them to each other.
He didn't know then that this moment of kindness was the foundation of his own ruin. He didn't know that by creating this friendship, he was signing his own death warrant.
He only knew that Bai Qi was smiling. And for Shu Yao, that had always been enough.