Later that night, after Sihan and Yichen had finally made their exit, the clinic fell into a heavy, ringing silence. Qixian slipped out onto the small balcony, the biting chill of the night air stinging his skin, though it was a welcome distraction from the feverish heat of his thoughts.
"I guess I really have no choice but to go back to the Zhou estate..." Qixian sighed, the words trailing off into a cloud of mist in the cold air. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the freezing metal of the railing.
He felt completely cornered. If he stayed at the clinic, Yichen's sharp instincts and relentless pestering would eventually tear down his walls and expose his secret. But if he returned to the Zhou estate, he was walking straight into his father's trap. 'Three weeks,' he thought, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the railing. 'I have exactly three weeks to find a way to burn this agreement to the ground before the gala, and before Yichen finds out I'm a Zhou.'
"You're thinking too loud again," a soft voice said from the doorway behind him.
Qixian didn't bother turning around, he knew that voice better than his own. "Go away, Haoran. I'm resting, just like you demanded I do."
"You're not resting. You're spiralling," Haoran countered, walking over to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him. He looked up at the stars, his usually cheerful expression replaced by a look of profound, quiet gravity. "Qixian... look at me. If you're in some kind of trouble with your family, you can tell me. I know I'm just a 'small clinic owner' to people like them, but I would do anything—absolutely anything—to help you."
Qixian felt a painful lump form in his throat, a mix of affection and grief. 'You're not just a clinic owner,' he thought bitterly. 'You're my brother. You're my twin. You're the lucky one who got away from that poison before it could ruin you. But still I'm so glad you don't have to suffer through this with me.'
"I'm fine," Qixian lied, though his voice was barely a whisper, thin and fragile in the wind. "I just have to settle a few remaining debts before the end of the month. After the gala... everything is going to change."
_____________________
Meanwhile, deep within the silent halls of the Gu mansion, Yichen stood alone in front of his full-length mirror. He remained shirtless, the moonlight shone through his chest and shoulders. His eyes were fixed on the faint glow of the veins near his collarbone—an unmistakable mark of an Enigma. It was a physical manifestation of power that only surfaced when his pheromones were pushed to their absolute limit.
"The Zhou family's second son?" Yichen muttered to his reflection, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. Slowly, his pupils began to bleed into that dangerous, abyssal Enigma blue, swallowing the light. "I don't care who he is. I've never even seen his face. If the universe had a sense of humor and it was Qixian, maybe I could tolerate it—not that I'd ever admit that to his face. I still hate the guy, but at least he's a known enemy. Better a headache I recognize than a stranger I have to pretend to love."
He reached out and picked up a black masquerade mask resting on his dresser, turning it over slowly in his hands. The mask was intricately crafted into the shape of a predatory wolf, its edges sharp, jagged, and trimmed in cold, polished silver. It looked more like a piece of armor than a party favor. "If my father wants a grand performance at the Gala," Yichen whispered, his scent of Monkshood suddenly flaring, turning the air in the room heavy, freezing, and suffocating, "then I'll give him a show he'll never forget. They want to play with my life? Let's see how they like it when I burn the stage down." Yichen clenched his fist.
______________
The following morning, the Zhou mansion was a filled with controlled malice, the air itself feeling thick with the family's lingering resentment. Jin Rou sat alone in the vast, hollow expanse of the living room, sprawled across a velvet armchair while staring blankly at the ceiling.
"The hospital has turned out to be a complete dead end," Jin Rou murmured to himself, his voice echoing off the cold marble floors. "He hasn't checked in for his shifts, he hasn't looked at his patient files, and he hasn't even stepped foot near the grounds. He's being far more careful than I anticipated."
He shifted his weight, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "There is no way Chengli is doing this alone. That man wouldn't have the financial resources or the tactical connections to hide a second son of the Zhou family for this long without leaving a trace."
He began tapping his chin rhythmically, his eyes narrowing into predatory slits as he re-evaluated the players on the board. "Yanlan. She's the only variable that doesn't fit. She returned from overseas with all that international influence, and suddenly my brother's trail goes stone cold? It's too convenient. If anyone has the gall and the power to hide Qixian right under my nose, it's her. She must have an idea where he's nesting."
____________
While the Zhou mansion remained shrouded in a thick, unpleasant tension, the sun rose over the clinic with an indifferent brightness that felt like a personal insult to Qixian's fraying nerves. He hadn't slept a wink. Every time he drifted close to unconsciousness, the image of Bo Wenxian's face—pale and haunting—flashed behind his eyelids, pulling him back to the surface of his guilt.
"I should probably visit her new grave later," Qixian murmured to himself, his voice sounding hollow in the empty room. He needed to apologize, though he wasn't sure if he was apologizing for failing her as a doctor or for the mess his life had become since she left.
A moment later, the sound of heavy, familiar footsteps in the hallway made him stiffen. Haoran walked in, looking remarkably composed and energetic for someone who had spent the previous hour cleaning up after a chaotic morning. He took one look at Qixian, and his expression shifted. The dark, bruised-looking circles under Qixian's eyes told a story of a long, restless night.
"You're up early," Haoran noted, leaning against the doorframe with a mug of coffee in hand.
"Bold of you to assume I've slept," Qixian said as he cover his face using a pillow.
"Hummm thought it was just make up." Haoran forced himself not to laugh.
"Did I look like I ever actually went to sleep?" Qixian replied, his voice raspy and dry from exhaustion.
"You didn't sleep at all? Why? Is something bothering you? Are you nearing a rut again?" Haoran asked, his voice instantly dipping into that mother-like tone of worry that usually drove Qixian crazy.
"Nothing's wrong, Haoran. My brain just wouldn't shut up," Qixian replied, rubbing his face with his palms to try and force some life into his skin.
"Then what—" Haoran started, but he suddenly cut himself off as a realization seemed to dawn on him. "Oh... Ohhh. I see how it is," Haoran said, his voice shifting into a teasing, sing-song lilt.
"What? What do you see?" Qixian asked, eyeing his twin with deep suspicion. He didn't like that look—it usually meant Haoran was about to jump to a very wrong, very annoying conclusion.
"Is this all because of Yichen's engagement news? Are you really that worried that he's going to be swept off his feet by some mysterious Zhou heir?" Haoran asked, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I didn't realize you were the jealous type, Qixian!"
Qixian didn't even hesitate. He grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it with pinpoint accuracy at Haoran's head. "Fuck off!"
Haoran caught the pillow with a laugh, stumbling back a step. "Don't worry, don't worry! I'm sure Yichen will find a way out of it. He'll probably end up marrying you anyway," Haoran added, waving a hand dismissively as if he were predicting the weather.
"I will never marry that guy! I would be miserable for the rest of my natural life if I did! Besides, have you forgotten? We are both Alphas! It's biologically impossible and socially ridiculous!" Qixian snapped defensively, finally climbing out of bed with a huff of indignation.
"Ugh, whatever. I'm going to go find some breakfast before I say something I'll regret," Qixian muttered, rolling his eyes as he marched past a still-laughing Haoran and headed for the kitchen.