Chapter Text
Shen Wenlang was by no means a stranger to loss.
The first time he’d experienced the hollow, falling sensation that came with having one’s security brutally ripped away from them, he’d been three years old and lost his beloved stuffed bunny in a busy marketplace.
He’d cried bitterly when he’d noticed, his tiny body aching from the force of his sobs and his voice high-pitched with terror as he’d imagined his precious bunny lying helpless and alone on a dirty ground and being trampled until it was dead.
Ying Yi had sighed in annoyance and muttered something about getting him a new bunny the next day.
Shen Yu had slapped him hard across the mouth and harshly informed him that no son of his would be allowed to publicly turn himself into such a spectacle of weakness ever again.
The second time he’d experienced a gut-wrenching loss, he’d been eight years old and mourned the death of Bao Bao, the little Shih Tzu who’d been his only companion on many lonely nights and who’d always snuggled up to him and licked away the salt on his cheeks on the days when he’d needed comfort the most.
Ying Yi had sighed in annoyance and muttered something about dogs being a distraction from one’s studies.
As far as Shen Yu had been concerned, meanwhile, Shen Wenlang had already learned his lesson well by then, and so he’d hidden away in his bedroom, pulling the covers over himself, and muffling his heartbroken sobs into a pillow that still carried the faint smell of his only true friend in the world.
When Shen Wenlang had been thirteen years old, he’d not only lost his Omega father but also a part of his soul.
Of course, he hadn’t truly understood the latter until almost two decades after Ying Yi’s death – until the day he’d stared down at a resignation letter and finally had to face the bitter realization that his trauma-born disgust of Omegas had cost him the only man he’d ever truly loved.
Gao Tu.
His trusted Beta secretary and the most cherished person in his life.
A quiet, dedicated, loyal man, who’d stood by his side through the good and the bad and who’d never once walked away from him, no matter how sharply his words had stung when he’d so desperately wanted to say something gentler and softer but hadn’t known how.
After all, gentle words and soft touches were a weakness – and Shen Yu had long set fire to everything inside him that had once been soft and kind.
Or so he had believed.
Then, Gao Tu had entered his life, and his steady support and quiet kindness had flowed across the scorched wasteland of Shen Wenlang’s heart like a gentle stream, a stream that had slowly but steadily healed the cracks and eventually caused something new and truly unexpected to bloom.
There was no longer any use in denying it.
He loved Gao Tu.
Perhaps, he’d loved him almost as long as he’d known him.
Of course, none of that mattered anymore.
Shen Wenlang had truly, irrevocably lost him.
A part of him desperately wanted to cling to the belief that he’d lost him to the scheming, heat-prone Omega first, a phantom smelling of sage and desperate desire that had secretly stolen Gao Tu away from him at some point and hadn’t revealed the full extent of its control over him until it had already been too late.
The part of him that woke him up at two in the morning and tormented his mind until the sun came up knew better, though.
He’d already lost Gao Tu long before his Omega partner had entered the Beta’s life.
Gao Tu was kind.
Gao Tu was gentle.
Gao Tu was self-sacrificing to the point of self-destruction, cared deeply about others, and he’d never once uttered a bad word about another person for as long as Shen Wenlang had known him.
A man like Gao Tu would have never accepted a bitter, prejudiced, broken shell of an Alpha like Shen Wenlang.
Therefore, as much as the Alpha wanted to blame Gao Tu’s Omega partner for stealing away the only person in the world who could chase away the darkness in his heart, he also knew deep down that his own hatred had slowly poisoned the bond between them until Gao Tu’s survival instincts had finally kicked in and he’d been forced to sever their ties for good.
It hadn’t just been about his own survival, though – and even as he’d thrown the resignation letter at him in fury, Shen Wenlang had intrinsically understood that he’d never stand a chance against the child.
The child.
The bastard.
Groaning, Shen Wenlang pressed his fist against his temple and downed another glass of whisky in one painful, bitter swallow, because he was doing it again, wasn’t he?
No matter how impossible it was that the child in Gao Tu’s filthy, lying, and manipulative Omega’s belly was actually his, the Beta had clearly opened his heart to this little life and had stepped in without a second’s hesitation to accept it as his own.
In Shen Wenlang’s heart, there was no room for compassion towards a creature born out of treachery and lies, even though he knew full well that the child had not asked to be conceived through betrayal and bore no responsibility for its father’s transgression.
In Gao Tu’s heart, however, there was far too much love and kindness for his own good – and it was because of his goodness that he’d no longer been able to stay and risk the child getting sucked into the void of hatred that was Shen Wenlang.
The thing was – Shen Wenlang actually got it.
He’d gotten it even as he’d hurled the resignation letter at the Beta and watched it smack against his stomach with a sharp clench in his chest.
For the first time in ten years, he’d truly allowed himself to acknowledge that Gao Tu would never be truly happy as long as he stayed by his side.
On the one hand, every cell of his body was screaming at the thought of Gao Tu at the mercy of a scheming Omega, a wretched creature who clearly didn’t take care of him in the way a loving partner should and who’d sunken so low as to actually pretend that a child born out of betrayal could ever belong to Gao Tu.
On the other hand, Gao Tu deeply loved the child.
No matter how hard it was for Shen Wenlang to grasp, the Beta’s love for the child had been clear to see in the pain in his eyes.
His desperation had struck Shen Wenlang’s heart like a knife and he’d known that if he really, truly loved Gao Tu, there was only one thing left for him to do.
No matter how much the thought itself was already tearing him apart.
He had felt like he could barely breathe when he’d picked up the letter from the ground and signed it right after a visibly shaken Gao Tu had left the room, every stroke of his pen feeling like a flame shooting through his chest and setting ablaze all the precious flowers that Gao Tu had so lovingly cultivated inside his heart.
He’d gotten it – and as much as it had killed him to let Gao Tu leave, he’d also known that it was the first and last act of desperate love he’d ever be allowed to gift him.
As he poured himself another glass of whisky and downed it with a grimace, Shen Wenlang knew that he’d never regret granting the love of his life the chance to finally find peace and happiness.
He also knew that his loss would be the only one he’d never be able to recover from.
==================
7 Months Later
The rain poured down on the roof of the limousine, and Shen Wenlang watched the rain drops roll down the windows with weariness weighing down his bones.
He’d just returned from a business meeting in Country V, the stale smell of the plane and the airport still clinging to his clothes and hair and his eyes feeling dry and tired from lack of sleep and the long plane ride.
Once upon a time, he’d have shared the car with Gao Tu, ranting about the idiocy of board members and greediness of shareholders and soaking in each little twitch of Gao Tu’s lips while secretly watching him for signs of exhaustion after such a long trip.
Those days were long gone, of course, but Shen Wenlang still repeatedly found himself glancing to his left, as though the loneliness that had consumed his life had been nothing but a feverish nightmare and Gao Tu was still right by his side.
The place beside him was empty, though.
Just like it had been for the past seven months.
Sighing, Shen Wenlang turned back towards the window, looking out at the quickly passing houses and colorful displays that made up the Western outskirts of Jiang Hu.
If he hadn’t been forced to go to the airport, Shen Wenlang would have never willingly set foot in this part of town, his eyebrows twitching at the garish, excessively blinking lights and the loud music blasting from stores selling cheap trinkets and services that were sometimes offered by willing participants and other times ... not so much.
Perhaps, Hua Yong’s beloved Mr. Sheng Shaoyou had never set foot in this part of the city either, for Shen Wenlang was certain that he’d no longer boast so readily about the lawfulness of Jiang Hu if he’d been aware just how many young Alphas were regularly found beaten and bloodied in the streets here and just how many Omegas moved here only to never be heard from again.
Less than a year ago, Shen Wenlang wouldn’t have questioned the plight of these poor souls, desperate men and women who’d been lured by the promise of a steady income or lonely souls who’d just wanted to be loved.
Over the past couple of months, however, Shen Wenlang had done nothing but ask himself hard questions.
Some of these questions had yielded answers about the world that had left him reeling and sick to his stomach.
Others had yielded answers about himself that had stabbed him right through the heart but that he’d forced himself to face regardless.
On the one hand, he knew that it was far too little and much too late.
Gao Tu was gone and he wasn’t coming back, no matter how much effort Shen Wenlang put into becoming not just a better Alpha but also a better human being.
On the other hand, he could no longer bear to look into the mirror and see the face of a wretched Alpha whose heart was filled with vile thoughts and prejudices staring back at him.
After all, that hateful, wretched Alpha had been the one who’d driven Gao Tu away, and Shen Wenlang never wanted to see him again.
And maybe.
Just maybe.
Somewhere, at some point in the future, maybe word of his efforts would reach Gao Tu, and he’d make the man he loved smile – even if Shen Wenlang would never be granted the privilege of seeing the Beta’s smile ever again.
He sighed heavily, glancing out of the window once more and frowning when a particular sign caught his eye.
“Can we stop here for a second?”
He leaned forward to address the driver, schooling his features into careful neutrality when the young Beta met his gaze in the rear-view mirror and frowned uncomprehendingly.
“Shen-Zong? Do you truly think it is wise to get out in this weather?”
And in this neighborhood?
“I’m certain. There are a couple of gifts I’ve been meaning to purchase for a friend, and this seems as good a time as any to cross them off my checklist.”
“Of course, Shen-Zong.”
Still frowning, the young Beta maneuvered the car off the streets and into the tiny parking lot of the small baby store that seemed almost out of place amidst its garish, neon-colored surroundings.
The store was small and looked like it had seen better days from the outside, but the displays in the windows had been lovingly and thoughtfully arranged, the colors not bright but soft and warm and appealing both to a small child and the adult holding their tiny hand.
As he got out of the car and hurried towards the store’s entrance through the pouring rain, Shen Wenlang couldn’t help but stop for the briefest of seconds and stare at the little plush bunny that had been arranged on top of an adorable little chair, his heart giving a painful little tug as the memory of Gao Tu once again threatened to consume his mind.
No.
Don’t think about him, just ... don’t!
Perhaps, it was utterly stupid of him to buy gifts for a baby while his heart was once again heavy and burdened by thoughts of the man who’d left him to take care of someone else’s baby.
However, he truly had been meaning to purchase a couple of gifts for the rather shocking and altogether unexpected byproduct of Hua Yong’s seemingly rather potent love for Sheng Shaoyou, having already put it off three times because ...
Well.
Because the thought of a love-struck Hua Yong doting on the S-tier Alpha he’d somehow against all odds gotten pregnant sometimes hurt something deep inside Shen Wenlang’s soul.
His feelings didn’t entirely make sense to him, given that Gao Tu was a Beta and the thought of children and a family had never been something that Shen Wenlang had seriously allowed himself to entertain.
Not to mention that he himself had never been fond of children and was also quite certain that his own childhood had set him up for catastrophic failure at fatherhood.
Still.
The image of Gao Tu smiling down at a chubby little baby cradled gently in his arms, his beautiful eyes sparkling with peaceful joy as he kissed soft little cheeks and ran his nose against dark tufts of hair to inhale that soothing baby-smell that not even the best biochemical company could ever hope to recreate ... that image did something to Shen Wenlang.
It made him smile.
It hurt him.
It gave him peace.
It tore him apart.
For a moment, he faltered, pausing once again in the pouring rain and glancing back at the car, the thought of perusing the small store and picking out the perfect gift for Hua Yong’s baby suddenly feeling almost suffocating when added to the weight of his heartache.
His eyes were drawn back to the little stuffed bunny, though, sitting on the tiny chair with one of its soft ears adorably flopped over and seeming as though it had been waiting for quite some time.
Shen Wenlang sighed.
He wasn’t going to back out again.
He could do this.
His mind made up, he strode forward and pushed open the door, stepping inside and feeling his tense muscles relax almost immediately at the cozy warmth wrapping around his chilled bones.
The store actually wasn’t quite as tiny as it had seemed on the outside, an assortment of strollers and plain but sturdy looking nursery furniture standing on each side and the center lined by multiple rows of shelves stacked high with baby essentials, seemingly offering everything from pacifiers to stuffed animals to tiny clothes that even Shen Wenlang had to admit would probably look adorable on Hua Yong and Sheng Shaoyou’s spawn.
“Can I help you with anything, Xiansheng?”
The store owner looked up at him from behind the register, an elderly Omega with a kind face and a curious smile, and Shen Wenlang bowed politely, biting his lip before nodding at the little stuffed bunny in the window display.
“That ... that bunny. Where would I find that bunny?”
“Oh, you mean Tutu? I’m sorry, Xiansheng, but I’m afraid he isn’t for sale. I’ve got a collection of stuffed animals very similar to him in the back of the store, though. Perhaps you’d like to take a closer look?”
Tutu.
Of course he can’t be mine.
Of course.
The Alpha swallowed, suddenly feeling cold all over again.
“I ... of course. I’ll just ... I’ll take a look.”
He nodded at the woman and slowly headed towards the back of the store, not really paying attention to his surroundings and absentmindedly running his fingers over soft fabrics as he tried to will the ache in his chest away.
Perhaps, the universe had deemed him deserving of yet another reminder that what he’d lost could truly never be returned to him.
The universe could suck it, of course.
Shen Wenlang could readily admit that he’d spent the better part of the past ten years acting like the world’s biggest idiot, but this time he’d definitely gotten the message loud and clear.
Smiling bitterly, the Alpha stared down at a row of stuffed animals, all of which were unbearably cute and none of which were as perfect as the little bunny that had drawn him towards the store in the first place.
It was useless.
He might as well give up and just instruct Chang Yu to purchase a gift on his behalf.
Sighing, Shen Wenlang turned to leave, only to stop dead in his tracks when he was suddenly hit with the smell of sage.
Warm, earthy, all-consuming sage.
It was a scent that Shen Wenlang knew.
It was a scent that had pitched him into mindless rage far more times than he was willing to admit and that he would have given anything to smell just one more time.
Gao Tu?
He held his breath, his eyes widening as he whirled around, but instead of warm, dark eyes he only stared at a stuffed unicorn, the aisle behind him just as empty as it had been a minute ago.
The scent was getting stronger though, and Shen Wenlang realized with a sinking heart that there was no way that this could be Gao Tu.
On Gao Tu, the scent of sage had been noticeable, yes, but despite Shen Wenlang’s complaints on the subject it had never been this potent, smelling more like a breeze that had carried a whiff of sage instead of a wild herbal garden in full bloom.
The source of the scent was getting closer, too, accompanied by slow, somewhat heavy sounding footsteps and soft puffs of breath that Shen Wenlang knew would have probably been undetectable to anyone below the rank of an S-tier Alpha.
This close, Shen Wenlang could also smell a different note in the rich scent that now seemed to permeate the store.
It was soft.
Warm.
Supple.
Milk.
Milk!
The bottom of Shen Wenlang’s stomach dropped out.
This wasn’t Gao Tu – it was Gao Tu’s Omega!
His pregnant Omega!
The Alpha’s breath quickened, his fight or flight instinct triggered mercilessly as his chest clenched, and his hands balled into fists at his side.
He almost lost control, his scent glands aching and his nails digging into the soft skin of his palms as he fought against the almost overwhelming urge to release his pheromones in a display of dominance.
Gao Tu hadn’t left him for an Alpha, though.
He’d left him for a pregnant Omega, and while Shen Wenlang wanted nothing more than to challenge the wretched creature who’d bound his Gao Tu with ropes of lies and whisked him away on a carriage of manipulation and deceit, he also knew that he couldn’t risk any harm coming to the child that Gao Tu loved so very dearly.
There was no risk in finally catching a glimpse of the man who’d destroyed Shen Wenlang’s only chance at happiness though, was there?
Just a quick glimpse, just so he would finally know what kind of man was capable of such heinous acts of betrayal, manipulation, and lies.
It wasn’t like he was actually going to say anything.
He just ... needed to take a look.
That was all.
His heart still pounding all the way up his throat, Shen Wenlang squared his shoulders and rounded the corner, not quite sure what to expect but knowing that he desperately needed to steel himself regardless.
At first, he only saw the Omega’s back, bent forward as he was in an attempt to grab a teal-colored onesie from one of the lower shelves.
Despite his bent posture, Shen Wenlang could already tell that he was quite tall, smaller than himself but certain unusually tall for an Omega, with broad shoulders that looked quite muscular even though the rest of him had clearly softened with his advancing pregnancy.
As he watched, the Omega picked up the onesie and then rightened himself, one hand reaching behind to support his back while the one holding the onesie lightly pressed against his stomach to offer support.
His head was turned to the side, his attention clearly drawn by a pair of tiny booties in the same color, and for a moment Shen Wenlang could only see the back of his head and his side-profile, taking in the thick, soft-looking dark hair that was long enough to touch his shoulders and the almost shockingly pronounced curve of his stomach.
Still pregnant, then.
It wasn’t like he’d wondered – he had – or obsessively kept track of the passage of time – he had – but Shen Wenlang had half expected the baby to have been born already, having read that many expectant parents liked to guard their blessed news until safely clearing the first trimester and figuring that someone as careful as Gao Tu would have done the same.
He must have told me the moment the test was positive, then.
He’d probably been looking for a reason to leave me anyway.
His lips thinned and his eyes narrowed, no longer even sure if his grim expression was a testament to his anger and self-hatred or a visual manifestation of the hurt that was once again clawing at his chest.
Before he could school his features back into a cold mask of indifference, however, the Omega turned his head.
At first, Shen Wenlang didn’t even realize what he was seeing, the connection between his optic nerve and his brain abruptly severed as all the oxygen in the room seemed to have disappeared, sucked into the vortex of two big, horrified eyes that had haunted Shen Wenlang’s sleep every single night for the past seven months.
He stared, his mouth parting in a desperate attempt to breathe and his eyes widening at the shock of seeing a face that was so intimately familiar to him yet also shockingly unfamiliar and achingly beautiful.
Cheeks that had once looked almost hollowed out were now round and full, skin that had always looked so pale was now tinged with a faint blush and dotted with brown spots, lips that had always been full and soft were looking even fuller and even his nose seemed different, looking puffier and wider than Shen Wenlang could ever remember seeing him.
Him.
It was him!
Except ... no.
No, no, no!
It couldn’t be him!
Gao Tu was a Beta.
Gao Tu’s partner was an Omega.
The chances of an Omega getting a Beta male pregnant were ...
It was impossible.
It was beyond impossible, in fact.
An Enigma?
The voice inside his head was weak and desperate, clinging to the only fantasy that would protect him from the heart-stopping reality that his body had already accepted.
No.
Gao Tu wasn’t a Beta who’d had the misfortune of being caught in the clutches of an Enigma.
Gao Tu was an Omega, his scent no longer leaking from his glands but gushing out in a flood of panic and making Shen Wenlang’s head spin with just how good he smelled.
How ripe.
How perfect.
There was no use in denying it any longer, his hands shaking and his glands aching with the instinct to release his soothing pheromones and wrap them around his pregnant Omega to make that horrified look in his eyes go away.
My Omega?
My pregnant Omega?
His inner Alpha roared, urging him to ... what?
Yell?
Demand an explanation for ten years of lies?
Comfort him until he stopped looking so scared?
Hold him to make sure he couldn’t run away from him ever again?
He didn’t know.
For the first time in his life, Shen Wenlang truly didn’t know anything anymore.
Well.
He knew one thing.
He knew one thing because there was, indeed, only one thing that truly mattered right now.
He’d missed him.
Gods.
How he had fucking missed him!
He stepped forward without thinking, his instincts overriding the part of his brain that was screaming at him to be gentle as he rushed at the pale Omega and threw his arms around him, pulling him against his chest and burying his face into the crook of his neck with a choked little gasp.
“Gao Tu!”
Holding Gao Tu in his arms was at once the most rewarding and surreal experience he’d ever had, surreal because even though he was quite certain he’d never actually held him this close before, his body’s muscle memory still acted as though he had, quickly learning the new shape of him and wielding them together in the most life-affirming embrace of Shen Wenlang’s life.
“Gao Tu!” he whispered again, wanting to tell him so much and feeling absolutely terrified of yet again saying the wrong thing, his voice breaking as he let out a little sob and decided to press his lips against the side of the Omega’s forehead instead.
Forgive me.
I’ll forgive you for lying, I promise.
Forgive me for forcing you to hide this from me.
Please.
“Gao Tu,” he said for the third time, feeling as though his entire wealth of eloquence and literacy had narrowed down to just these two words.
Gao Tu.
His Gao Tu.
His dear, beloved Gao Tu, who’d turned paler than ever in his arms and made no motion of returning the hug, his body tight with tension and his hand flying to his stomach as his mouth parted in a stunned gasp.
“She- Wenlang!”
His hand shot out all of a sudden, gripping onto the back of Shen Wenlang’s still wet suit jacket so tightly he almost tore the material, and Shen Wenlang could smell the acidic stench of pain in his scent even before he let out a sharp cry.
On instinct, his own hand cradled the Omega’s heavy stomach, his eyes widening in shock and dawning realization when he felt a cramp ripple across the tight surface.
The baby was coming.
The baby was coming, and it was all Shen Wenlang’s fault.