WHAT IS CHOSEN CANNOT BE UNCHOSEN
Rumors do not need names to become dangerous.
By mid-afternoon, Zhou Shen was aware of three separate information leaks—none of them complete, none of them false.
A hotel staff member overheard an Omega distress call.
A private physician was asked to adjust suppressants on short notice.
A scent—distinct, refined, unmistakably unregistered—had lingered long enough to be noticed.
Individually, they meant nothing.
Together, they formed a pattern.
Zhou Shen closed the folder in front of him and steepled his fingers.
"Who else knows?" he asked.
His security director stood across the desk, posture rigid. "Not enough to confirm anything. Enough to speculate."
"And speculation," Zhou Shen said calmly, "creates pressure."
"Yes, sir."
Pressure meant opportunists.
Pressure meant rivals.
Pressure meant that any Omega without a publicly acknowledged Alpha—even one as fiercely independent as Li Weiyan—would suddenly appear available.
Zhou Shen did not tolerate that word.
"Lock down the narrative," he said. "No denials. No confirmations. Silence."
The director hesitated. "Sir… silence implies authority."
Zhou Shen's gaze lifted, cold and precise.
"Yes," he said. "It does."
Li Weiyan found out an hour later.
Not through Zhou Shen.
Through his phone.
He was halfway through a late lunch—plain rice, soup, nothing that might destabilize his recovering system—when the message arrived.
You should be careful.
People are asking questions.
About last night.
Weiyan stared at the screen.
Then he laughed.
It was not amused.
It was sharp, incredulous, edged with fury.
"Of course they are," he muttered.
He did not bother replying.
Instead, he stood, gathered his coat, and walked out of the restaurant without finishing his meal.
By the time Zhou Shen's driver informed him that Li Weiyan had declined transport and was moving freely through the city, Zhou Shen was already standing.
"Where?" he asked.
"Heading toward the Institute."
Zhou Shen closed his eyes briefly.
Of course he was.
The Institute of Cultural Preservation was not a weak place.
It was public. Respected. Symbolic.
Which made it a battlefield.
Weiyan moved through the front hall with his usual quiet confidence, shoulders squared, scent carefully suppressed but not erased. Heads turned—not because he was visibly Omega, but because people sensed something unresolved, like tension humming just beneath the skin.
He welcomed it.
If they were going to look, they would look at him.
Not at rumors.
Not at shadows.
A junior archivist approached him nervously. "Director Li… are you all right?"
Weiyan smiled politely. "Perfectly."
The archivist hesitated. "There are… visitors. Asking questions."
"I'm sure," Weiyan said. "Send them in."
The archivist paled. "Sir—"
"I said send them in."
Minutes later, two men entered his office.
Both Alphas.
Both well-dressed.
Both pretending not to scent the air.
"Director Li," one said smoothly. "We apologize for the intrusion. We're representing private interests concerned about your well-being."
Weiyan gestured for them to sit.
They did.
He did not.
"Concern," Weiyan said lightly, "is a generous word for uninvited interrogation."
The Alpha smiled thinly. "We heard you experienced distress last night."
"So do many Omegas," Weiyan replied. "Is there a registry I'm unaware of where I'm required to submit explanations?"
The other Alpha leaned forward. "You are unclaimed."
Weiyan's eyes sharpened.
"I am autonomous."
The Alpha chuckled. "Biology does not care about philosophy."
Weiyan stepped closer.
"And men like you," he said quietly, "often forget that Omegas with resources do not need permission."
The temperature in the room dropped.
Just as Zhou Shen arrived.
The door opened without announcement.
The scent hit first.
Not aggressive.
Not flared.
Controlled.
Heavy with authority.
Both visiting Alphas stood instinctively.
Zhou Shen did not look at them.
His attention went directly to Weiyan.
"You should have called," he said.
Weiyan lifted his chin. "You were busy containing."
Zhou Shen's mouth tightened. Then, to the room at large: "This meeting is over."
One Alpha bristled. "And you are?"
Zhou Shen finally turned.
"Someone," he said evenly, "you do not want to test."
Silence.
Recognition dawned.
Faces blanched.
"We meant no offense," the Alpha said quickly.
"Good," Zhou Shen replied. "Because you will leave without one."
They did.
The door closed.
Weiyan exhaled slowly.
"That," he said, "was interference."
"That," Zhou Shen replied, "was prevention."
Weiyan turned on him. "You cannot keep doing this."
Zhou Shen met his gaze unflinchingly. "I can. And I will."
"I don't belong to you."
"No," Zhou Shen said. "But you are not prey."
The words landed with finality.
Weiyan stared at him, chest rising and falling.
"Then stop acting like my shield," he said.
Zhou Shen stepped closer.
"Then stop standing alone in front of loaded questions," he replied.
Neither yielded.
And in that standoff, something irreversible took shape.
Not ownership.
Alignment.