Chapter Text
They stayed there far longer than either of them realized.
At some point, the last traces of gold disappeared from the sky completely, replaced by deep shades of blue and violet that stretched endlessly overhead. The air had grown colder too, carrying the quiet chill of night as the willow branches swayed softly above them, their leaves whispering against each other in the breeze. One by one, stars began appearing in the sky — faint at first, then brighter as the darkness settled fully around them.
And still, neither of them moved.
The city beyond the park continued existing somewhere far away, distant headlights passing beyond the trees, muffled sounds occasionally bleeding through the silence — but here, under the willow tree, none of it seemed to matter.
For a little while...
It was just them.
Two shadows caught in a pocket of time that didn't belong to the rest of the world.
No expectations. No titles. No bruises hidden beneath uniforms. No fathers waiting behind locked doors.
Maybe that was why neither of them wanted to be the first to break the silence.
But the cold was starting to seep into their bones, and the reality they had been trying to outrun was finally catching up.
Slowly. Inevitably.
They both felt it.
The growing lateness of the hour. The knowledge sitting quietly at the back of their minds, heavy and unavoidable. They couldn't stay here forever no matter how badly they wanted to.
A silent conversation passed between them—something that said everything they were both too afraid to put into words, something tired, resigned. When they finally stood up, the air between them felt thin, charged with a reluctance that made every movement feel like it was happening underwater.
Yong was the first to break the tension. As usual.
The moment they stood up, Hua Yong glanced down first—then slowly looked back up at Wenlang, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly.
Wenlang frowned instinctively, confused for half a second before he followed Yong's gaze downward.
Their hands.
No... not exactly.
His hand.
And he realized with a start that he was still holding Yong's hand—holding it so tightly that his own knuckles were white.
He immediately let go, pulling his hand back as if he'd been burned. He looked away, clearing his throat awkwardly as a faint heat climbed up the back of his neck. Yong smirked, clearly amused by the sudden flustered energy, but for once... he decided not to push it.
They started walking, their footsteps echoing softly against the pavement. The park was behind them now, and with every step, the "S-class" aura and the weight of their family names seemed to settle back onto their shoulders like lead. Neither of them spoke much. There wasn't really anything left to say. As they both knew what was to come.
When they reached the corner where their paths had to diverge, the silence became unbearable. Wenlang stopped, his face twisted into a deep, jagged frown that he couldn't hide. Hua Yong noticed immediately. Of course he did. He could see the way Wenlang's jaw was set, the way his shoulders were already starting to hunch forward.
Yong sighed, a small, weary sound, before glancing at him.
"Stop making that face" he muttered "You're already ugly enough"
Wenlang snapped his head toward him, a flare of genuine annoyance breaking through the dread.
"Can you be nice for once? We both know what's waiting for us the moment we step through those doors."
The teasing light in Yong's eyes faded quietly, leaving behind something softer, more tired. He went quiet, his gaze dropping to the ground.
He knew. They both did. The moment they return to the mansion, the cycle would repeat itself exactly as it always did. The luxury of the mansions was just a backdrop for the bruises, the shouting, the cold basements, and the suffocating pressure of people bigger than them, stronger than them, people who called themselves family while treating them like burdens they regretted creating.
And the cruelest part was that neither of them could do anything about it.
Hua Yong had long since learned survival through silence, through endurance, through making himself smaller whenever necessary.
And Wenlang—
Wenlang might've become an S-class alpha now, might've become someone the outside world would fear and admire someday... but inside that house, beneath his father's shadow, he was still trapped, still controlled, still that same child forced into perfection until breathing itself felt exhausting.
There was no escape. Not yet.
So all they could do was endure.
"I know" Yong said softly, his voice barely a whisper against the night air. "But we have to go."
His gaze lowered briefly. "If we're any more late, the punishment will only be worse."
The words settled heavily between them because they were true. Pain was inevitable either way— all they could ever do was decide how much of it they were willing to provoke.
For a second, Wenlang looked like he wanted to argue. Like he wanted to say 'then let's not go back at all.'
But reality crushed the thought before it could fully form.
Hua Yong looked up at Wenlang and offered a small, fragile smile—the kind of smile that didn't quite reach his eyes but was meant to keep them both from falling apart.
"Goodnight, Shen Wenlang."
And before Wenlang could respond properly, he turned and began walking away, his figure slowly fading into the darkness of the street.
Wenlang stood there for a long moment, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
He hated it. He hated the situation. Hated how easily they accepted things they should've never had to endure in the first place. Hated that pain had become routine. Hated that every goodbye between them carried the quiet understanding that neither of them would sleep peacefully tonight.
Most of all—
he hated how powerless he still was.
He watched Yong's retreating back until he was nothing more than a shadow, then he let out a long, shaky breath that felt like it was tearing through his lungs.
He turned toward his father's mansion—toward the place that had lost the right to be called a home a long time ago. It was just a building filled with cold floors and even colder people.
He didn't think about what was coming—he couldn't. He just focused on the lingering warmth of Yong's hand on his, holding onto that one piece of peace as he walked back into his own personal hell.
~•~•~•~•~•~
By the time Hua Yong reached the mansion gates, the sky had darkened completely. The iron gates towered over him, black against the night, and the moment they creaked open, that familiar feeling settled into his chest again—heavy, cold, inevitable.
The silence felt heavier than usual—that deceptive calm before the storm he knew all too well. He slipped inside without a word, bowing his head mechanically to the guard – a habit born of survival rather than respect. His footsteps echoed through the hallway, where towering ceilings and cold marble floors gleamed under dim chandeliers. The grand hall of the Hua mansion was as imposing as ever, filled with expensive art and cold shadows that seemed to watch him with judging eyes
Opulence on the surface, rot underneath.
But before he could even lift his head to look toward the stairs, a vicious blow struck the back of his skull.
Pain exploded sharply behind his eyes. The force of the blow sent him crashing to the ground, his body thrashing awkwardly towards the bottom of the stairs. His hip hit the sharp edge of the first step, a jolt of white-hot pain making him almost gasp for air.
He slowly lifted his head, his vision blurring for a second, pain throbbing at the back of his skull.
Mrs. Hua, the legitimate wife, stood near the center of the grand hall, dressed elegantly as always, her posture straight and regal. Yet her face was twisted with that familiar, bone-deep disgust she had reserved especially for him for years.
Flanking her were Hua Lei and Hua Wang—both A-class Alphas, both cruel, and both the reason Yong's skin was rarely without a bruise. Both alphas watched him with eager amusement already gleaming in their eyes, like predators who had just spotted fresh prey.
"You remembered how to come back?" Mrs. Hua asked coldly.
Hua Yong lowered his head immediately.
"Sorry"
The apology came automatically now. Empty. Practiced. It didn't matter anyway.
The very next moment a harsh force struck his stomach, Yong clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might shatter, forcing himself to swallow the sound that threatened to escape.
Hua Lei clicked his tongue above him.
"You brat" He sneered, his voice dripping with venom and disgust.
"Coming home late at this hour and daring to look at us with those filthy eyes of yours?"
Yong immediately bowed his head – pressing it so low it almost touched the cold floor – forcing himself to silence.
Hua Wang, who had been standing in a terrifying silence until now, suddenly moved. He reached down and yanked Yong up by his hair, his grip so tight it felt like he was trying to tear the scalp away. He tilted Yong's head to the side with a sharp, violent jerk and leaned in close, inhaling deeply near his neck. Yong tensed, his eyes slamming shut as the Alpha's presence washed over him like a wave of filth.
"Wow... you're drenched in that Alpha's scent" Wang whispered, his voice low and dangerous.
"What was his name again? That Shen heir?"
"Shen Wenlang" Hua Lei spat, voice laced with amusement.
Hua Wang yanked Yong's head even harder, forcing him to look into his eyes.
"Shen Wenlang.. your so-called 'friend'. Did you finally spread your legs for him now that he's officially an Alpha, huh? Let him fuck you raw like the desperate whore you are?"
He punctuated the words with a hard, echoing slap that sent Yong crashing back to the floor with a loud thud.
The slap came again, even harder, enough to split his lip. Yong tasted blood.They kicked him repeatedly — stomach, ribs, back — while hurling filth at him. Yong clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt, refusing to let any sound escape. He had learned years ago that screams only excited them more.
"You think you can just whore yourself out to the Shen heir?" Hua Lei snarled, grabbing Yong's shirt and ripping it open completely. "We've been too gentle with you, haven't we?"
Hua Wang yanked him up by the hair again and punched him square in the face, sending him crashing into a side table hard that the wood splintered.
"Was his dick better than ours, huh? Did you moan like a bitch in heat for that S-class cock?"
They dragged him to the sofa. Hua Wang shoved him face-down, tearing at his pants with rough, impatient hands. Yong's body tensed, eyes closed shut. He had long since learned to leave himself during moments like this. The pain was there, sharp and familiar, but it felt far away. Like it was happening to someone else.
"Stop squirming, slut. Let's see how well that Shen alpha stretched you out. I bet that filthy hole of yours is still dripping, begging for a cock like the fucking whor—"
"Enough."
Mrs. Hua's cold voice sliced through the room like a blade—cold, sharp, and final.
The brothers paused, breathing hard. Hua Wang gave Yong one last brutal slap across the face before stepping back. Mrs. Hua walked toward them, her heels clicking rhythmically against the floor.
"I hope you've learned your lesson" Mrs. Hua said, looking at Yong with a disdain so deep it felt as if she was looking at something filthy stuck to her shoe. "Or do you need them to fuck it into you properly?"
Yong closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep, shuddering breath. He slowly pushed himself up on trembling legs, head bowed low in submission. But not before reaching out with trembling hands to fix the cushions, dusting them off as if he could erase the fact that he had even touched them.
His shirt hung in tatters, pants undone and torn, blood trickling from his split lip and multiple cuts. Fresh bruises were already blooming across his pale skin.
"Get out of my sight" she spat "Before I change my mind and let them use you until morning"
She glanced at Wang and Lei, who immediately perked up, a wide, predatory grin spreading across Lei's face as he licked his lips. Yong's entire body tensed, and he turned towards the stairs quickly, but Lei was faster. He grabbed Yong before he could reach the first step, forcing a bruising, violent kiss upon him. He bit Yong's already bleeding lip hard, then shoved his hand down the back of Yong's torn pants, groping and squeezing with cruel intent.
Only when Yong was gasping for air did Lei release him with one final harsh slap on his ass.
Yong continued up the stairs without looking back. He climbed the stairs and walked toward his room with a calm that was far more terrifying than any panic. His legs were shaking, his chest was bare, his pants were torn, and his lips were bleeding, but his eyes... they were blank. Hollow.
He had expected this. He had lived this a thousand times before. He had stopped feeling anything a long time ago.
Once inside his room, he walked straight into the shower. He didn't even bother to take off the remaining scraps of his clothes, he just stepped under the spray and turned the water to the highest temperature.
As soon as the scalding, hot water touched his skin, he started to scrub. He used his hands, his nails, anything he could find to rub at his skin with a rough, frantic energy—as if he could erase the marks, the scents, the memory of those hands. He scrubbed until his skin turned a raw, angry red, until rashes started to bloom across his chest and arms.
Only then did he lean his forehead against the cold tile wall, eyes closed, breathing shallow in the little bit of peace the locked bathroom door could still give him.
No tears came. He hadn't cried in years.
There was only the sound of water, the sting on his skin, and the vast, familiar numbness inside his chest.
This was his reality.
And tomorrow morning, he would meet Wenlang at the school gate like nothing had happened.