Li Wei's armor had been in place so long it had fused with his skin—quiet, composed, untouchable.
But lately, something was shifting.
Not because Chen Lihuan was cruel like before.
Because he was… trying.
And that was more terrifying.
Indifference had been easy. Predictable. Safe.
But this? This slow, awkward pursuit—compliments that felt foreign, expensive gifts left like traps—made Li Wei's chest tighten.
A predator changing tactics wasn't comfort.
It was warning.
Every time Chen entered a room, Li Wei felt it—the glances that lingered too long, the softened tone, the sudden interest in his work.
There was intent behind it.
And intent meant danger.
---
That danger arrived one quiet evening.
Li Wei was at his desk, textbooks and diagrams spread out. He was mid-sketch on a teaching aid when the door opened—no knock, no warning.
Chen Lihuan walked in as if he owned the air itself.
"I had my team make this for you." He set a sleek tablet on the desk. "Interactive module. Should help with your lessons."
Li Wei's pen stopped mid-stroke.
A chill crept up his spine.
This wasn't kindness. It was a move.
A pattern he knew too well—control wrapped in silk.
He closed his laptop with a sharp clack.
"Get out," he said quietly.
But the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
Chen frowned. "I was only trying to help—"
"Help?" Li Wei's laugh was sharp, bitter. He stood.
"You call this help? Barging into my space with something I never asked for? This is the one place I had that was mine, and now you want to own that too?"
His scent spiked—raw, jagged panic laced with fury.
Chen's Alpha instincts surged in answer, his own scent deepening, pressing back.
"I am your husband," Chen said, voice colder. Louder. "I have a right—"
"You have no right!" Li Wei's voice cracked into a scream.
"You are not my husband. You're a contract. A signature. The reason I stopped feeling anything years before my body finally gave out. You let me die alone!"
The words hit like a physical blow.
Chen froze. The logic made no sense—yet the truth in Li Wei's voice left him reeling.
Li Wei grabbed the tablet and hurled it against the wall.
It shattered into glass and plastic.
"Get out!" His voice broke. "Get out and leave me alone!"
Chen's instincts screamed to close the distance—comfort, contain, control.
But his conscience finally understood: this wasn't an argument.
This was trauma.
He stepped back.
One slow step. Then another.
The door shut between them.
In the hall, the scent of Li Wei's grief clung like smoke.
Chen leaned against the wall, stunned. Hollow.
He had thought effort was enough.
He had thought wanting change made him worthy of it.
But change without understanding was just repetition.
And this time, Li Wei had given no polite smile to hide behind.
Only raw truth.
Only warning.
If Chen failed again…
It wouldn't be silence that followed.
It would be ruin.