Chapter Text
Rain tapped softly against the tall windows of the Sheng estate.
Inside the enormous mansion, warmth and silence coexisted uneasily.
Eight-year-old Sheng Shaoyou sat upright on the living room sofa with a book resting neatly on his lap. His small face reflected innocence yet was expressionless in a way that often unsettled adults. Even at that age, he already possessed the calm restraint expected from the heir of the Sheng family.
Across the room, chaos existed in direct opposition to him.
“Gege! Gege! Look at me!”
A smaller boy sprinted barefoot across the carpet, nearly tripping over his own feet as he waved around a handmade paper fox. Childish excitement was evident on the other boy’s face.
Sheng Shaoyou looked up calmly.
“You’re running indoors again.”
“But look!” the other boy insisted excitedly. “Teacher said mine was the prettiest!”
Then the boy climbed onto the sofa without permission and shoved the orange paper fox directly into Shaoyou’s face. This boy was Shaoyou’s identical younger twin brother, Dingjie.
The corners of Shaoyou’s lips twitched faintly.
“It’s ugly.”
Dingjie gasped dramatically.
“You liar!”
“It is,” Shaoyou replied smoothly. “The tail is crooked.”
Dingjie immediately frowned and inspected it seriously.
“It is crooked…” he concluded after observing carefully.
His expression turned devastated so quickly that Shaoyou sighed inwardly.
Then, quietly, he reached over and adjusted the folded paper tail with careful fingers.
“There,” he said. “Now it’s less ugly.”
Dingjie brightened instantly.
Their tutor once said the twins were like night and day. Shaoyou was quiet, composed, frighteningly intelligent and carried himself with a grace of a young alpha heir although he was yet to differentiate. In fact, the twins had not yet differentiated.
Dingjie was sunshine. He had a bright and lively personality. He laughed loudly, cried loudly, loved loudly.
And Shaoyou—
Shaoyou loved his brother quietly.
Very quietly.
But completely.
“Young Masters,” a servant said respectfully from nearby. “Dinner is ready.”
Dingjie immediately hopped off the sofa.
“I’m hungry!”
“You’re always hungry,” Shaoyou remarked while closing his book.
“That’s because growing children need nutrition,” Dingjie replied confidently.
“You heard that from Mother.”
“Yes.”
“You memorized it just to argue with me.”
“Yes.”
Shaoyou stared at him.
Dingjie grinned proudly.
Their mother was already seated when they entered the dining room.
Madam Sheng was beautiful in a quiet, graceful way—the kind of beauty that never demanded attention yet softened every room she entered. In the otherwise cold and rigid atmosphere of the Sheng estate, she alone carried warmth around her like sunlight filtering through winter frost.
The moment she saw the twins enter, her expression turned gentle immediately.
“Come here,” she called softly.
Dingjie responded first, as always. He hurried toward her without hesitation, the small fox figurine he had been carrying still clutched in his hand. “Mother,” he complained dramatically, “Shaoyou said my fox looks ugly.”
Madam Sheng looked down at the little carved fox before glancing toward her other son, amusement flickering in her eyes.
“Did he?”
“He’s jealous because mine is prettier than his,” Dingjie declared confidently.
Across the room, Shaoyou calmly pulled out his chair and sat down with far more composure than most children his age possessed.
“I didn’t make one,” he replied evenly.
Dingjie gasped in exaggerated victory and pointed at him immediately. “See? He admitted defeat.”
A soft laugh escaped Madam Sheng before she could stop it.
It was rare for laughter to exist naturally in this house. Rare for warmth to linger without restraint. Yet somehow, Dingjie always managed to create it, effortlessly dragging light into places that had long grown accustomed to silence and discipline.
The twins had spent the entire afternoon in training—etiquette lessons, leadership exercises, negotiation practice, and the endless refinement expected from heirs of the Sheng family. At their age, they were already being shaped into future successors. Every word, every posture, every reaction was monitored and corrected.
Dingjie endured it with restless impatience.
Shaoyou excelled at it effortlessly.
And then—
the dining room doors opened.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Sheng Feng entered. A tall, imposing alpha and was stern enough to make the room itself seem colder.
The servants straightened at once, lowering their heads instinctively. Even Dingjie quieted, though only slightly.
Sheng Feng’s razor sharp gaze swept across the twins before settling on Shaoyou.
For the first time that evening, a trace of approval entered his expression when he noticed Shaoyou’s perfect sitting posture and composed aura.
“How was training?”
Shaoyou answered calmly, his back perfectly straight. “Instructor Zhao said my negotiation assessment improved. He also said my leadership scores were the highest in class.”
Sheng Feng gave a small nod.
Simple.
Brief.
But from him, even that much approval carried weight.
A rare trace of satisfaction crossed Sheng Feng’s face.
“Good.”
Just one word.
Brief. Controlled. Almost indifferent.
Yet the moment it was spoken, Dingjie looked toward his father instinctively, eyes brightening for the smallest fraction of a second.
Waiting.
Waiting for more.
For praise.
For acknowledgment.
For even a little attention directed at him too.
But Sheng Feng simply picked up his chopsticks and began eating, the conversation already dismissed from his mind.
The tiny spark in Dingjie’s expression faded almost immediately. He lowered his eyes quietly, fingers curling slightly in his lap as he focused on his untouched food.
Madam Sheng noticed at once. She always did.
Beneath the table, her hand moved gently, fingers brushing softly through Dingjie’s hair in silent comfort. The gesture was subtle enough that no one else at the table should have noticed it.
But Shaoyou did.
He always noticed these things.
The quiet disappointments Dingjie tried to hide. The way their mother silently gathered the pieces afterward. Shaoyou did not show but these praises from their father never gave him any satisfaction since these were always directed at him exclusively. Their father seldom acknowledged Dingjie.
At ten years old, Sheng Shaoyou differentiated into an S-class Alpha.
The news spread through the Sheng family like wildfire.
Overnight, the household transformed. The elders praised him openly, their approval impossible to miss. Business partners arrived one after another with gifts and congratulations, eager to strengthen ties with the future heir of Sheng Fang Biotech. Even the media spoke of him endlessly, calling him exceptional, promising, destined for greatness.
And for the first time in his life—
Sheng Feng looked genuinely proud of his son.
Not merely satisfied.
Proud.
Shaoyou still remembered that feeling clearly. The rare approval in his father’s eyes. The way people suddenly looked at him with admiration instead of expectation alone.
The scent of orange blossoms and bitter rum had filled the room the day he differentiated—rich, elegant, and unmistakably high-grade. Even at such a young age, the pressure of his pheromones had been overwhelming enough to silence an entire hall.
Everyone celebrated him.
Everyone wanted him.
And for the first time, Shaoyou understood what it meant to finally meet expectations instead of endlessly chasing them.
But the joy inside the Sheng household lasted only a few months.
Because Dingjie still showed no sign of differentiating.
At first, no one thought much of it. Late differentiation was uncommon but not unheard of. The doctors remained calm. The elders dismissed it casually.
Then more months passed.
Still nothing.
No pheromone fluctuations.
No signs.
Nothing at all.
Slowly, the atmosphere within the Sheng household began to change.
The warmth disappeared first.
Then came the silence.
A heavy, suffocating tension settled over the mansion, creeping quietly into every room like something unwelcome no one wanted to name aloud.
One evening, Dingjie sat quietly in the garden while hugging a fox plushie almost half his size. It had a stitching on the chest called, “Dingjie Foxy”.
His eyes looked unusually dim.
Shaoyou approached silently.
“What are you doing out here?”
Dingjie didn’t answer immediately.
The evening breeze stirred the leaves of trees softly around them.
Finally, he asked quietly, “Gege… what if I never differentiate?”
Shaoyou frowned slightly. “You will.”
“But what if I don’t?” His voice became smaller.
“Father already looks disappointed every time he sees me.”
That made Shaoyou’s expression darken instantly.
“He’s wrong,” claimed Shaoyou in a strong voice.
“But you’re an S-class Alpha.” Dingjie lowered his head. “And I’m nothing.”
“You’re Dingjie,” asserted Shaoyou.
“That doesn’t matter to Father.”
For several long seconds, Shaoyou said nothing.
He simply stood there, watching his brother struggle to hold himself together in the quiet darkness of the room.
Then, slowly, he walked over and sat beside him.
After a brief hesitation, he carefully reached out and pulled Dingjie a little closer by the shoulder. The movement was awkward, unfamiliar. Shaoyou had never been naturally good at physical affection, never particularly skilled at expressing comfort aloud.
But Dingjie leaned against him immediately anyway, as though he had been waiting for it.
“Listen to me,” Shaoyou said softly.
His voice was calm and steady, cutting gently through the fear wrapped around Dingjie’s heart.
“If you never differentiate… then you never differentiate.”
Dingjie looked up at him slowly, his eyes still red.
Shaoyou met his gaze without wavering. His dark eyes carried the same quiet certainty they always did.
“Then I’ll protect you for the rest of your life.”
The younger twin’s lips trembled faintly at the words.
“What if Father stops loving me?” he whispered the question, small and fragile in a way that made Shaoyou’s chest ache.
Shaoyou answered immediately. No hesitation.
“Then I’ll love you twice as much.”
Dingjie burst into tears immediately.
Annoyance flickered across Shaoyou’s face.
“You cry too easily.”
“But you said something nice…”
“You’re embarrassing.”
Despite his words, Shaoyou still wiped his tears away. After all, bickering was a way to distract Dingjie.
That night, Dingjie slept in Shaoyou’s room. Neither of them mentioned it.
But Shaoyou noticed his twin clinging to his sleeve even in sleep.
As if afraid of being left behind.
—
A year later, the Sheng family traveled to Country V.
It was supposed to be a rare family vacation. For a short while, things even felt normal again.
Madam Sheng smiled more often.
Dingjie laughed constantly.
Shaoyou stayed close to his brother through crowded streets and markets.
Then they went to the carnival together.
The entire place blazed with color and light beneath the night sky. Strings of glowing lanterns stretched overhead while dazzling rides spun endlessly in the distance, their lights reflecting brightly against the darkness. Music echoed from every direction—laughter, chatter, carnival bells, and the distant sounds of games being played blending into one lively, overwhelming rhythm.
The air smelled faintly of sugar, roasted snacks, and summer rain lingering on the pavement.
Dingjie slowed to a stop, completely captivated by the scene before them.
The lights reflected in his eyes as he stared around in open wonder, momentarily forgetting every worry he had carried with him. For once, the heaviness surrounding the Sheng household seemed very far away.
“Gege! Gege! Look!”
He pointed excitedly toward a massive carousel glowing gold beneath thousands of lights.
“You said that five times already,” Shaoyou replied.
“But this one is prettier than the others!”
“You said that about the others too.”
Dingjie ignored him completely.
Madam Sheng laughed softly nearby while Sheng Feng answered a business call with visible irritation.
The twins wandered slightly ahead with guards following close behind.
Dingjie stopped suddenly at a small carnival stall.
A fox plushie hung near the prizes. Its fur was bright orange. Its tail was fluffy and crooked.
“Gege…”
Shaoyou already knew that tone.
“No.”
“But it looks like me.”
“It looks diseased.”
“Gege.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“You already have too many fox plushies. You’re even carrying one.”
“But not that one.”
Dingjie stared at him hopefully.
Shaoyou sighed. “Fine.”
Dingjie cheered loudly enough to attract attention.
Ten minutes later, Shaoyou won the plushie after terrifying the stall owner with sheer determination.
Dingjie hugged it happily.
“His name is Foxy.”
“That’s uncreative.”
“You’re uncreative.”
Before Shaoyou could respond—
A scream shattered the night.
Then another.
For one brief, confusing second, the carnival seemed to pause—as if no one fully understood what they had heard.
Then smoke erupted upward from the western side of the grounds.
Dark.
Thick.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Laughter disappeared. Music faltered beneath rising panic. People began shouting over one another as fear spread through the crowd with terrifying speed.
And then— fire exploded into the night.
The blast thundered across the carnival grounds hard enough to shake the earth beneath their feet. Heat rushed through the air. Somewhere nearby, glass shattered violently.
Dingjie flinched so hard he nearly stumbled.
“Gege—!”
“Stay close to me.”
Shaoyou grabbed his wrist immediately, pulling him near without hesitation.
Around them, chaos erupted completely.
People shoved past one another desperately, trying to escape. Children burst into frightened tears. Vendors abandoned their stalls. Somewhere in the distance, emergency alarms began blaring loudly enough to make the panic even worse.
Smoke thickened rapidly, swallowing the bright carnival lights one by one.
The family guards pushed urgently toward the twins.
“This way, Young Masters!”
Shaoyou tightened his grip around Dingjie’s wrist so hard it almost hurt.
“Don’t let go.”
Dingjie nodded quickly, eyes wide with fear. “I won’t!”
Then the crowd surged.
Violently.
Someone slammed hard into Dingjie from behind.
His hand slipped.
“Gege!”
Shaoyou’s eyes widened instantly.
Dingjie stumbled backward, swallowed into the mass of terrified people before Shaoyou could catch him again.
“DINGJIE!”
Bodies shoved between them immediately. Smoke rolled heavily through the air, obscuring everything.
Shaoyou forced himself forward, panic hitting him so violently his still-developing Alpha pheromones burst out uncontrollably. The scent of orange blossoms and bitter rum surged sharply through the smoke, oppressive and unstable.
“MOVE!”
His voice cracked through the chaos, desperate and furious.
But then another explosion shook the carnival.
Something nearby collapsed with a deafening crash. Sparks flew through the air. The guards grabbed Shaoyou forcefully before debris could hit him.
“Young Master! It’s too dangerous!”
“LET GO OF ME!”
He fought them hard enough that even the guards struggled to restrain him.
And then—
through the smoke—
for one brief, horrible second—
Shaoyou saw Dingjie.
Small.
Terrified.
Crying.
Still clutching one of the fox plushies tightly against his chest.
Then someone crashed into him.
And Dingjie disappeared.
Completely.
“DINGJIE!!”
The scream tore out of Shaoyou’s throat so violently that even the guards froze for a moment.
But this time—
nobody answered him.