He was unconscious. Barely breathing.
Xiao Yu's eyes widened in panic. "Zhao Chen!" he called out instinctively, but there was no response—just the terrifying silence of the room pressing in around him.
A voice snapped behind him, sharp and cold."What are you doing here?"
Xiao Yu spun around, startled out of his panic. Rong Xichen stood in the doorway, brows furrowed, his tall frame tense with unease. There was no mistaking the storm in his eyes.
"I–I just found him like this!" Xiao Yu said, stepping back on instinct, his heart pounding as guilt and helplessness battled in his chest.
Rong Xichen didn't bother responding. His gaze shifted immediately to Zhao Chen, and in three long strides he was kneeling beside him. "Zhao Chen?" he called, his voice trembling despite its low pitch. He placed two fingers beneath Zhao Chen's nose. A breath. Barely there. His expression darkened.
Without a second wasted, Rong Xichen pulled out his phone. "Bring the car. Now. To Zhao Chen's house," he barked at his driver before ending the call. Then, without sparing Xiao Yu another glance, he gathered Zhao Chen in his arms like it was second nature and strode toward the door.
Xiao Yu could only watch. The sharp twist in his chest grew tighter.
He was worried, of course he was—but watching Rong Xichen handle Zhao Chen with such urgency, such care, made something bitter crawl up Xiao Yu's throat. Jealousy, ugly and loud, coiled around his insides.
"Wow, host," Shiroi muttered dryly in his head. "You're really selfish."
"What?! I'm not—I mean…" Xiao Yu stammered, then sighed dramatically. "Zhao Chen is going to be fine, so allow me to wallow in my feelings, okay? Kiddo?"
Shiroi said nothing, but the judgement radiating from his silence was palpable.
Xiao Yu stepped out of the house, expecting to catch up, but the street was empty. No car. No Rong Xichen. No Zhao Chen.He was gone.
"…He couldn't even wait for me to come with them," Xiao Yu mumbled, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Right. Of course. I'm the villain in their story."
He turned back to the house one last time, eyes narrowing. "Also… isn't it strange that the door was unlocked? No—I'm going to pretend it was locked. Yeah. Locked. Let's roll with that."
He flagged down a passing cab and slid into the back seat with a melodramatic sigh, muttering to himself as the engine pulled away.
Xiao Yu stood on the sidewalk, the humid air sticking to his skin, the late evening sky pressing down like a weight.
"They left without me," he mumbled. "Of course they did."
His voice was quiet, bitter with a strange blend of disappointment and self-pity. He looked around the street like maybe, just maybe, Rong Xichen had realized he'd forgotten him. That he'd turn around, come back, offer a hand. A word. A glance.
Nothing.
Only the lingering sound of tires screeching into the distance.
Xiao Yu sighed and turned to Shiroi, who floated beside him, expression unreadable. "You'd think after all the drama I've gone through, the universe would throw me a pity bone."
"Host, you're seriously jealous while someone is unconscious?"
"Not unconscious," Xiao Yu argued. "Just… lightly poisoned. Or fatigued. Or cursed. Whatever. The point is—he's still breathing."
Shiroi crossed their arms. "So your heart's racing because you're worried?"
"No. My heart's racing because the man I like just bridal-carried his best friend out like some melodrama prince while I stood there like background furniture."
"You are background furniture right now," Shiroi said dryly.
Xiao Yu rolled his eyes, hailing a cab with exaggerated flair. "You wound me, child. Emotionally. Deeply."
The taxi pulled up, and Xiao Yu slid into the backseat, giving the driver the address to the hospital even though he had no clue if he'd be allowed to see Zhao Chen. But he couldn't go home. Not now. Not with his thoughts clawing at his brain like vultures over a carcass.
As the cab started moving, Xiao Yu leaned his forehead against the window. The cool glass felt grounding. His mind, however, was spiraling.
He should've never come here.
He should've walked away the moment Shiroi warned him.
He should've never gotten involved.
But…
There was something about Zhao Chen's face—pale, sweating, still. Something about the way Rong Xichen's voice cracked when he called his name. Something about the way he was invisible in that room, irrelevant in the eyes of the people he once cared about most.
Back in the hospital...
The waiting room was a sterile nightmare. Rong Xichen paced the white-tiled floor like a caged animal, jaw tight, eyes dark. His phone buzzed relentlessly—parents, school administrators, one or two reporters who somehow got wind of the scandal.
He silenced them all.
The doctor had said Zhao Chen was stable now. But that didn't ease the fire burning in his gut.
Someone had drugged him.
Someone had gone that far.
And there was only one person who stood to gain from Zhao Chen's disgrace and downfall.
Xiao Yu.
He clenched his fists. That fox-faced brat had probably staged the whole thing—posting fake screenshots, triggering a scandal, and then appearing at Zhao Chen's house like some poorly written savior.
Too convenient.
Too twisted.
Too late.
"I won't let him get away with it," Rong Xichen muttered.
Back to Xiao Yu...
He stood outside the hospital entrance, watching the doors open and close as people rushed in and out. The sky was darker now, stars scattered weakly across it. His phone buzzed in his pocket—notifications from the forum, classmates gossiping, his name dragged through digital mud.
He didn't open them.
He didn't need to.
He knew exactly what they were saying.
He'd gone too far.
He was toxic.
He was disgusting.
He should've never—
"Xiao Yu."
The voice sliced through his thoughts like ice water. He turned.
Rong Xichen stood a few feet away, eyes sharp and cold like polished obsidian. His school uniform was rumpled, and his sleeves were pushed up. The usually composed golden boy looked like he'd been dipped in acid and was still burning.
"What…" Xiao Yu started, forcing a smile. "No dramatic hospital reunion? No sobbing on your knees beside Zhao Chen's bed?"
Rong Xichen walked closer, each step measured. "What were you doing at his house?"
"I… heard he was sick," Xiao Yu lied easily. "I just went to check."
"And found him unconscious?"
Xiao Yu shrugged. "Lucky timing, huh?"
Rong Xichen's eyes narrowed, fury simmering just beneath the surface. "You're unbelievable."
"No, I'm Xiao Yu," he corrected, the smile still glued on. "Unbelievable is Zhao Chen posting shirtless pics and still managing to trend at #2 on the forum."
"You think this is a joke?"
"I think this is karma."
That did it.
Rong Xichen's voice dropped, quiet and venomous. "I don't care what you think. I don't care what you feel. I'm going to make sure you get expelled. Ruined. Disgraced. You want to play games with people's lives? Fine. Let's see how long you last."
Xiao Yu's smile didn't budge.
But inside?
A sharp, bitter crack split through his chest.
He laughed, soft and strained. "You really hate me, huh?"
Rong Xichen said nothing.
"Alright, then," Xiao Yu said. "Go ahead. Do what you want. Burn me at the stake, report me to the school board, blacklist me from existence. If that makes you feel better—go for it."
And then he stepped back, gave a dramatic bow, and turned on his heel like a performer leaving the stage.
But his hands?
Trembled at his sides.