The image of Li Wei's hand resting gently on Lin Min's arm refused to leave Chen Lihuan's mind. It repeated again and again, haunting him more than any boardroom defeat or market downturn ever could. For a man who dealt in logic, who thrived in predictability and power, this—this—had become the most important revelation he'd had in years.
He didn't know the man living under his roof.
He had told himself he'd won. That with a signature on a contract and the shield of his status, he had secured control. But what he had truly acquired was not a partner or a companion—it was a stranger. Worse, a stranger who now seemed far more human, more complex, and more deeply good than he could ever remember noticing before.
And Li Wei… wasn't the pliant, soft-spoken Omega Chen had assumed him to be. He was cautious, yes, and distant. But beneath that was a quiet, unshakable strength. A fire that burned low and steady. A kindness so instinctive, it made Chen realize—with a painful clarity—how cold he himself had been.
The memory of the first timeline struck with cruel precision: Li Wei in a hospital bed, eyes hollow, his presence barely acknowledged by Chen in those final moments. He had thought silence meant consent. He had mistaken self-preservation for passivity. The realization filled him with a kind of regret that seeped into his bones.
He wanted to reach out. To repair. To try.
But all he had ever known was control, not connection. He had the instincts of a commander, not a companion.
The next morning, he tried.
He made sure to be in the dining room early, pretending to check his emails while waiting for Li Wei to arrive. He heard the soft click of the Omega's footsteps before he looked up. Li Wei entered, composed as always, his eyes avoiding Chen's, his scent carefully neutral. He sat, said nothing, and began to eat.
Chen fumbled for a conversation starter. "I had a meeting with your principal this morning."
Li Wei paused briefly, teacup mid-air. Suspicion flashed in his eyes. He was waiting for the usual jab, the subtle dig.
"She mentioned the Spring Festival Fair. Said you handled a student situation very well."
"It's my job," Li Wei replied, his tone flat.
Chen tried again, unsure of how to offer praise that didn't sound like manipulation. "It was… impressive. Not everyone could've handled it the way you did."
Li Wei finally met his eyes. But there was no gratitude in his gaze—only unreadable distance. "Was there anything else, Mr. Chen?"
The formality sliced deeper than any insult. It was the exact tone Chen himself had once perfected—aloof, professional, untouchable. Now, it was being used against him with chilling precision. He didn't blame Li Wei. He understood. But understanding didn't soften the sting.
Later that week, a package arrived at Li Wei's suite—a high-end tablet with all the latest software, far superior to what he currently used. Accompanying it was a brief note in Chen Lihuan's own hand: For your work. From the Chen Group.
It wasn't affection. It wasn't even apology.
It was logistics. Cold, precise, safe.
Li Wei stared at the gift, a bitter taste forming in his mouth. He knew this language. He had lived in its shadow before—gifts as symbols of ownership, not intimacy. Applause instead of acknowledgment. Transaction instead of trust.
He handed the tablet back to the guard who delivered it. "Please tell Mr. Chen I appreciate the gesture, but it's not necessary. I already have everything I need."
When the report reached Chen, he felt it like a punch to the chest. His attempt at outreach—clumsy and impersonal—had been seen for exactly what it was. Not kindness. Not care. Just another move on a chessboard Li Wei had long since stopped playing.
That night, Chen stood at the window of his office, high above the city. The lights below blurred, meaningless. He had tried—and failed. He didn't even know how to try properly. Every gesture he made was filtered through the same corporate lens: impersonal, calculated, safe.
But Li Wei didn't respond to transactions. He responded to truth. To softness. To effort born not of obligation but of heart.
Chen wasn't sure he had a heart to offer. But for the first time, he wanted one. Not for himself. For Li Wei.
He wasn't obsessed anymore.
He was lonely.
And Li Wei—closed-off, unreachable Li Wei—had become the only place where warmth felt possible.