After being moved to tears by the sworn enemy's pheromones - Chapter 94: END

On stage, after asking all the contestants a round of questions, the host handed the microphone to Shen Jin. “Coach Shen, can you predict today’s MVP?”

Before Shen Jin could respond, the arena erupted in cheers and screams again. Someone in the front row even shouted, “Coach, marry me!”

The host teased, “Coach, you really shouldn’t have worn a white shirt today.”

Shen Jin smiled, “I actually wanted to wear beach shorts, but the league wouldn’t let me.”

According to the official regulations, the head coach must wear formal attire during the match. Ever since he became the head coach, he had been reluctantly wearing casual suits for years. He never expected that, as someone working behind the scenes, he would have fans.

After taking the mic again, he complimented the players on their performances and hesitated for a moment between the top laner, Karin, and the jungler, Lonesay. Finally, he predicted that Karin would be today’s MVP.

“Is it because of that impressive pentakill?” The host, clearly enjoying stirring things up, joked. “Or is it because you’re biased toward your favorite disciple, Karin?”

The broadcast director switched the camera to the audience, and it quickly caught Gu Yu in the front row, pretending to frown. Shen Jin, however, remained serious, “The strategy for the final game was indeed designed around the top laner.”

Lonesay, standing beside him, stoked the fire: “Exactly, someone only got that pentakill thanks to Shen’s strategy.”

As the MVP was announced on the big screen behind them, it turned out to be Karin, just as predicted.

Dubbed a genius, Karin responded sharply as usual, “Oh, if you’re not satisfied, let’s play for another year and see if you can take back the MVP next time?”

“I already said I want to retire,” Lonesay raised his eyebrows. “But if a certain kid begs me on their knees, I might reconsider.”

Karin was flustered. “Who would beg you?” Lonesay retorted, “I never said it was you.” The crowd erupted into playful boos and jeers; everyone was used to their banter. During the final group photo, Karin playfully squeezed in next to Lonesay, despite clearly annoying him, bringing the event to a perfect close.

By midnight, the victory celebration finally wrapped up. After greeting everyone, Shen Jin jogged out of the hotel.

Waiting by the roadside was a black Pagani, its headlights on.

“Well, isn’t it Mr. Gu? What a coincidence.” Shen Jin approached the window and, seeing the flowers inside, couldn’t help teasing the person in the car. “Driving yourself today? Your wife didn’t join you?”

Gu Yu glanced at him, and, just as expected, his first words were, “Your favorite disciple?”

“Oh, come on.” Shen Jin quickly got in the car and picked up the flowers. “Mr. Gu, even if you’re jealous, be reasonable. He’s still just a kid.”

“Hmph.” Gu Yu revved the engine a bit aggressively. “Your disciples are all over the place, and I’m already old and washed up. How could I even have the right to be jealous?”

“No way. My little strawberry will forever be 18 in my heart,” Shen Jin whispered under his breath, “More like 3.” Then, he added, “You’ve been working so hard lately. You could’ve sent a driver to pick me up.”

Gu Yu readily agreed, “Alright, next time I’ll send a driver. Now that Coach Shen has won a championship, I’m not even qualified to pick you up anymore.”

Shen Jin, pushing his luck, replied, “Good that you know. You better start treating your championship coach with more respect.”

Gu Yu, puffed up like a pufferfish, tried to maintain a cool demeanor. Shen Jin poked his shoulder. “I really want to record this and show it to your subordinates who think you’re always calm and in control.”

He then added, “Qin Zhu and Old Xu are still drinking. They’ll have to go back next week. Let’s gather the day after tomorrow.”

Over the years, Qin Zhu had become a well-known commentator across several games, gaining a reputation for his brutal commentary style. Rumor had it that fans wanting to “buy his head” were lined up down eight streets. Whenever Shen Jin ran into him at the home venue, he would go out of his way to avoid him, just to stay out of harm’s way.

Xu Tingyun, on the other hand, had originally planned to stick around a secondary league team in C City for a while. But four or five years later, his team unexpectedly won a promotion match as the top league expanded. Since then, they’d been yo-yoing between promotion and relegation, finally stabilizing somewhat in recent years. Now, the team couldn’t just coast along anymore.

Whenever they met on stage, Xu Tingyun always gave Shen Jin the strongest handshake. Before every match, he would also talk the most trash. The story of how Coach Shen owed Coach Xu 800 yuan in college for running errands had already spread throughout the entire professional scene. In the spring tournament, it even became a meme and was included in the match posters. ATG’s slogan was: *Debts and favors, settle them with victory.*

“Sure, I’ll find a few restaurants, and you can let them choose,” Gu Yu said as he drove toward their villa district. Shen Jin’s phone was almost out of battery, so he grabbed Gu Yu’s phone instead. “You’ve been on business trips for half a month. Aren’t you worried I’ll find something I shouldn’t on your phone?”

Gu Yu didn’t even bat an eyelid. “Like the video of you crying and hugging me last time when you got drunk, saying your tail was missing?”

Shen Jin was baffled. “When did you record that?”

Having gotten drunk for the first time in ages, Shen Jin threatened, “Do you believe I’ll find it and delete it right now?”

But Gu Yu wasn’t the least bit worried. “Looks like someone wants to kneel on the keyboard again.”

“Wow, my wife is so fierce~” Shen Jin playfully whined, but he leaned over, softening his tone as he mumbled, “Little strawberry… I missed you every day these past two weeks.”

Gu Yu glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, his throat bobbing slightly, though he said nothing.

After a moment, Gu Yu pulled the car over to a safe spot by the roadside. Turning, he braced his arm on the passenger seat, pinning Shen Jin down.

As their lips met, Shen Jin closed his eyes, listening to the increasingly erratic rhythm of Gu Yu’s breathing. He quickly leaned in, letting Gu Yu greedily deepen the kiss.

In the seven or eight years since they graduated, Gu Yu’s academic and professional life had gone almost without a hitch, flourishing remarkably.

He had inherited his parents’ business acumen and carved out his own path, becoming widely known as the real-life version of a rich, handsome CEO from a romance novel.

Over the years, people around Shen Jin would often joke, half-serious, “Your Mr. Gu is not only rich but also so handsome. You better keep an eye on him.”

Shen Jin always smiled politely, brushing it off, never telling them that it was actually Gu Yu who clung to him, constantly asking if his senior still loved him.

Maybe it was the league officials’ fondness for promoting Shen Jin’s looks and physique, pairing his slightly dominant aura with his casual suits—a combination that was rare for an omega.

Fans of the team occasionally shipped the coach with the players. There were even times when Gu Yu came to watch games, and the light boards around the venue would display Shen Jin’s name alongside that of his players. Shen Jin had to endure the awkwardness, feeling like his waist was on the verge of breaking that night.

“My senior doesn’t care about me as much as he used to.” Under the quiet streetlight, the alpha’s eyes looked a little hurt.

Shen Jin ruffled his hair, soothing him, “How could you suddenly say that?”

“…” The alpha seemed to hesitate for a while before covering the warm, vulnerable side of Shen Jin’s neck. “Today, you deliberately switched hands for the handshake, hiding your wedding ring from the cameras.”

Afraid of being laughed at, Little Gu quietly explained, “You’re not paying attention to the details at all. The two foreign spectators next to me kept discussing whether or not you’re married.”

Shen Jin was stunned for two seconds, trying to laugh but holding back. “Darling, be fair. It was the other coach who extended his left hand first, probably an ex-lefty. I’d wear rings on all ten fingers if I could, okay?”

“…Oh.” Only then did Gu Yu allow Shen Jin to come closer for a kiss. “Now that’s more like it.”

A gentle breeze blew by, bringing a tenderness that the daytime heat had lacked.

In the midst of their affection, Gu Yu struggled to keep his voice steady. “Senior… I feel like I still love you the same way I did when I was 19.”

His gaze was uncertain, just like when he first confessed to Shen Jin all those years ago.

Shen Jin was momentarily taken aback. After the kiss, he buried his flushed face into Gu Yu’s shoulder.

“I know. Me too.”

“Let’s hurry home… okay?”

*

The Pagani sped through the bustling city streets, with lights from countless homes sparkling like a river of stars.

More than a decade had passed since they first met, yet every moment born of love remained vividly alive.

In the first year of being separated due to their studies, both struggled to adapt. It wasn’t long before Shen Jin and Gu Yu were arguing, with Shen Jin crying on the phone and not speaking for nearly a whole day. 

By evening, he nervously held his phone, wanting to apologize, but stubbornly deleting every word he typed. He imagined all the worst outcomes.

Then, a message popped up: “Come outside, I’m at the door of your team’s base.” Shen Jin’s heart clenched, and he rushed downstairs into the night wind, just as he had always run eagerly into Gu Yu’s arms.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, worried for Gu Yu in the night’s breeze. But Gu Yu only clung to him, burying his face in Shen Jin’s shoulder, acting like the teenager he once was. “Because… because I was kidnapped by the airline.”

It was this time apart that gradually stripped away the innocence from his young master. Gu Yu refused to touch any of the salary Shen Jin had transferred over and instead tightened his belt, saving even small amounts, slowly climbing to greater heights.

Shen Jin often heard Gu Yu talk about winning another award at school or attending some conference with his seniors. Meanwhile, over the years, Shen Jin felt increasingly lost as a coach. The team had gone through significant changes: investors pulled out, players transferred, and the team was on the verge of relegation. Shen Jin’s meager bonuses sometimes made it hard for him to face Gu Yu, who was constantly working hard.

When Gu Yu started his internship and founded his company, the first big contract he secured was a staggering amount. He became busier and busier.

More and more people began to surround Gu Yu, each more impressive than the last. Some boldly and openly expressed admiration for him. Shen Jin knew Gu Yu would never waver, but sometimes he couldn’t help but have messy thoughts—wondering how to catch up or whether it would be better to leave sooner.

Let Gu Yu pursue what he truly wanted, without holding him back.

Shen Jin had always been aware of the “gap” between him and Gu Yu, in terms of both energy and capability. When they were younger, Gu Yu had given him firm promises, and Shen Jin believed love could overcome everything. But once they entered society, he realized that this gap was far more complex than what they had experienced in school.

During that time, Shen Jin became so sensitive that he grew anxious at even the smallest things, like seeing Gu Yu replying to work emails. He wanted to ask who Gu Yu was busy with, but he always retreated, afraid of being a nuisance.

However, these days didn’t last long. Gu Yu soon sensed something was wrong and coaxed and cajoled Shen Jin into explaining what was bothering him.

Shen Jin couldn’t help crying while explaining. He even began calculating how much he’d need for a breakup fee, saying he would need at least 100,000 yuan, which left Gu Yu both anxious and confused: “Breakup fee? Why would I pay you a breakup fee?”

That amount was quite important to Shen Jin. He wiped his tears and said, “If you won’t give it, forget it.” Gu Yu knelt in front of him, rubbing his cold hands, half-laughing and half-crying. “100,000 is too little. How about I give you 10 million, or even a billion?”

Shen Jin pouted. “Won’t the company go out of business?”

“I’ll sell my shares tomorrow.” Gu Yu leaned in closer. “After that, I’ll just stay home and let you take care of me, so we won’t break up.”

Without hesitation, Shen Jin shook his head and muttered, “But I don’t like Alphas who can’t make money…”

Gu Yu pretended to be angry and squeezed Shen Jin’s tear-streaked cheeks. “Why is Senior still so hard to please?”

Though it was a joke, Shen Jin cried in earnest, sharing his deepest worries.

That night, Gu Yu comforted him for a long time, managing to lull Shen Jin to sleep, though Gu Yu himself stayed awake until dawn.

He didn’t blame Shen Jin for being unreasonable. Instead, he reflected all night, realizing he had become too absorbed in chasing his career, to the point of neglecting everything around him.

After all, he had broken his promise. He hadn’t given Shen Jin the sense of security he deserved.

Over the years, Gu Yu had been consumed by work and the sense of accomplishment that came from making money. His natural Alpha competitiveness had surged, and everything in the business world was new and exciting. He hadn’t realized how much he had neglected Shen Jin’s feelings.

Twice, Shen Jin had fallen ill with stomach issues and a high fever during the team’s tournaments. Gu Yu had stayed by his side at the hospital, but as soon as Shen Jin felt slightly better, Gu Yu would open his laptop to check stock prices or listen in on meetings. Shen Jin had joked, “Little Gu looks so serious; he’s still as attractive as ever.” Everything seemed normal, but Gu Yu hadn’t noticed the possible loneliness in Shen Jin’s eyes as he bit into the apple he had been holding for so long.

Gu Yu was foolish, terribly wrong.

Had Shen Jin not been willing to share why he wanted to leave, Gu Yu feared that one day he would truly lose him, without even the chance to fight for him.

An overwhelming sense of regret surged through Gu Yu. Years ago, he had promised never to let Shen Jin feel sad or wronged again, but now that promise seemed like a joke.

He sat alone from night till morning. At 7 a.m., when Shen Jin woke up, his first words were filled with remorse: “Damn, I think I was stupid again last night. Maybe it’s because of all the team issues lately… Are you busy today? Will I be making you late for meetings?”

As he tugged at Gu Yu’s sleeve, Shen Jin forced a smile. “Boss Gu, be merciful and don’t take it to heart. Next time I casually mention breaking up, you can smack me, okay?”

Though Shen Jin was doing his best to smile, Gu Yu’s lips pressed tightly together, his eyelashes trembling. When he leaned down to embrace Shen Jin, Gu Yu could feel his tears falling onto the soft pillow, burning hot, like every embrace they had shared before.

If his 19-year-old self had seen how he treated Shen Jin now, no doubt he’d have worn a cold expression, grabbed his collar, and dragged him outside to break his legs—that would be getting off lightly.

Shen Jin didn’t understand why Gu Yu suddenly cried. He panicked and clumsily patted Gu Yu’s back, asking, “What’s wrong? Why are you crying, Gu Yu? I-I’ll never talk about breaking up again, okay?”

Gu Yu shook his head, quickly wiped his tears, and asked if Shen Jin had free time during the off-season. He wanted to take him to the amusement park they had planned to visit last year.

The theme park had a game-based museum that Shen Jin loved. He had mentioned a few times how the NPCs cosplaying as Radiant Knight and Dusk Lord were both handsome and perfectly matched. But Gu Yu never had time to go with him.

According to the game’s storyline, the old friends-turned-enemies had developed further. The righteous knight had finally uncovered the truth behind the Dusk Lord’s demonic corruption. Back when they fought side by side, the carefree lord often joked about learning dark magic to grow stronger. The knight had always thought he was kidding, until the lord truly embraced evil and walked a dark path. Only then did the knight realize it was too late.

Since then, the two had represented light and dark, locked in a deadly pursuit for years. In the end, light gained the upper hand. With the knight’s holy sword at the lord’s throat, a single thrust would have ended the evil. But the knight found he couldn’t strike the final blow. Instead, it was the lord who smiled and gripped the glowing blade, decisively thrusting it through his own neck.

He chose to end his own suffering and fulfill the knight’s sense of justice.

“And then the Radiant Knight realized that years ago, the lord had been tainted by dark magic because the situation in the chaotic battle was so dire. The only way to protect the knight’s life was to rely on that evil power,” Shen Jin had watched the game’s update countless times, sighing at how ruthless the game company could be. “Unfortunately, the knight was gravely injured and unconscious at the time, completely unaware of this.”

When the cutscene for this storyline was updated, countless comments flooded Weibo saying, “Haha, the one who actually died wasn’t the lord, it was me.” Shen Jin nudged Gu Yu and asked, “How about we go to the game-themed park when we have some free time? You used to play Radiant Knight really well.”

The theme park was built on the outskirts of town, and though Gu Yu agreed to find time to go, half a year had passed without him making any room in his schedule. 

Shen Jin knew how busy Gu Yu was, and figured he probably wasn’t that into games anymore, so he never pushed the idea or complained. Occasionally, when Shen Jin came across pictures of the park, he would click on them and browse for a few seconds before moving on.

They were no longer young and had long passed the age of feeling sentimental over a movie or game character. Shen Jin had assumed Gu Yu wouldn’t mention the park again, so he was a bit surprised when he did. “Why bring it up all of a sudden?”

“Because I’m an idiot.” Gu Yu’s mind was filled with the scene of the Dusk Lord clutching his sword, taking his own life in despair, and falling into the arms of the knight. He looked at Shen Jin and said, “If I wait any longer, it might be too late.”

Shen Jin looked at him, confused. “You go ahead and focus on your work. The park will be open for at least a few more decades—”

But Gu Yu said, “I don’t care. I’m booking the entire park today. As soon as your match is over, we’re going.”

Shen Jin, still bewildered, found himself pulled into Gu Yu’s embrace. After that day, Gu Yu’s work never seemed as hectic as it had been. He was always free when Shen Jin was, never letting any of Shen Jin’s words go unheard again.

Shen Jin’s stomach issues rarely flared up anymore, and Gu Yu even gave him some official financial documents from a professional services firm. At first, Shen Jin didn’t think much of them, but one day, while helping a few friends review a team contract, he suddenly realized the significance of those documents.

He had learned some legal terminology from a lawyer, and some of the definitions were universal.

Gu Yu had given Shen Jin the full rights to make decisions over his personal assets. If Shen Jin wanted to, with just a signature, Gu Yu would be left with nothing, potentially starting over from scratch, living under a bridge.

The day Shen Jin finally arrived at the lakeside gathering, he was late due to traffic. He had planned to just grab a quick meal and head home to ask Gu Yu about everything, but instead, he unexpectedly stumbled upon someone else’s proposal scene.

The endless lake was now covered in a sea of purple flowers and mist, with twinkling lights scattered across the water like the Milky Way. In the center, there was a large moon surrounded by swaying boats, each carrying bouquets shaped like cute pink rabbits made from roses. The scene was so fantastical it looked like a moonlit palace on the water. If not for the numerous drones and helicopters hovering overhead, Shen Jin might have thought he’d wandered into an ancient fairyland.

“Holy crap, someone’s proposing?” Familiar voices suddenly spoke up behind him. Shen Jin turned to see Qin Zhu and Xu Tingyun, surprised: “What are you two doing here?”

Here in G province without telling me? Before Shen Jin could ask, Qin Zhu grabbed his arm and said, “Why are you blocking the way? It’s not like it’s your proposal.”

“Oh… right.” Shen Jin quickly stepped aside, and someone behind him said, “Why aren’t you taking a video with your phone?”

The voice was familiar too. Shen Jin pulled out his phone reflexively, as a voice boomed over the lake from the loudspeakers. 

He listened curiously, recognizing the professional tone—it was almost identical to the Radiant Knight’s voice in the game, but the lines were unfamiliar. Puzzled, he muttered, “What is this… AI-generated?”

The voice behind him spoke again: “Maybe they invited the voice actor himself?”

Shen Jin turned around in surprise and saw Tao Yan and Jiang Lan smiling at him. “Long time no see, Shen.”

Before he could react, the two handed him red roses. Qin Zhu also came over and stuffed a similar rose into his hand, grumbling, “I’ve been standing here so long my legs are about to break. You couldn’t have taken the subway instead of getting stuck in traffic?”

Before long, more people started walking toward him—classmates, friends, teammates, colleagues—even the retired player he’d always admired. The roses in his hands multiplied until he held an entire bouquet. At the end of the path, Gu Yu was walking toward him, each step in time with Shen Jin’s pounding heart.

A huge banner unfurled from a helicopter, and hundreds of drones assembled into the shape of a cute rabbit winking, holding a carrot-shaped ring. Petals filled the sky, and the Radiant Knight’s voice rang out again.

“I wish I could go back to the past, yet there’s no need, because I know from the beginning to the end, I’ve always loved you.”

According to the game’s storyline, the righteous knight, in a fit of madness, plunged his blood-stained sword into his own chest. He gave up all his beliefs, using his blood to forfeit the chance for eternal life and resurrect his lord. They were left with only a century of life, but they could spend it together, growing old side by side.

That night by the lake was etched in Shen Jin’s memory, never to fade.

Gu Yu knelt on one knee and opened a purple ring box. Amid the cheers, someone tossed over a blue-and-black school uniform windbreaker from their high school, and Gu Yu casually took off his suit jacket and put on the windbreaker instead.

Shen Jin’s vision blurred, and for a moment, the man kneeling before him was once again the teenager from years ago.

Gu Yu had invited Shen Jin’s high school math teacher to officiate their wedding. It was she who had tearfully persuaded Shen Jin to return to school all those years ago, and now she tearfully said she had always known Shen Jin would end up with his junior, Gu Yu.

“Really?” Shen Jin handed her a tissue to wipe her tears, and she nodded with certainty. “You students… teachers know everything.”

Everyone at their high school knew: the two legendary seniors, after much struggle, had each become leaders in their fields. They even donated a building to the school—a silent witness to every heart-pounding encounter in the corner of the stairwell, bathed in sunset.

Married life was much calmer. Shen Jin no longer entertained foolish thoughts of leaving Gu Yu, and Gu Yu no longer buried himself in work. Making money was important, sure, but he had to get home to cook Shen Jin’s favorite pork rib soup.

The only real change came with Gu Yu’s father’s passing.

The man had died of a stroke caused by years of alcoholism, and they hadn’t made it in time to see him. Gu Yu’s aunt said his father’s last wish was to be buried with Lu Lin, which left Gu Yu exhausted and silent throughout the funeral.

Blood ties are hard to sever. Gu Yu couldn’t make up his mind, so Shen Jin suggested they bury his father separately. He didn’t think anyone should disturb Uncle Lu’s rest.

At the funeral, many of Gu Yu’s relatives criticized Shen Jin, who bit his lip and asked Gu Yu if he resented him. That was when Gu Yu finally broke down, gripping Shen Jin’s hand as they faced the crowd together.

Though his eyes were red, his voice was colder than anyone had ever heard. “Legally, I have the final say on this. He won’t be buried with Uncle Lu. That was Uncle Lu’s wish as well.”

“As for his wishes, I have no intention of fulfilling them. If lightning strikes, let it strike me—it has nothing to do with any of you.”

After that, they had less contact with family, except for occasional communication with Gu Yu’s cousin overseas. Even for holidays, they stayed mostly in S City.

This city, which had only recently emerged as a first-tier metropolis, was full of people from elsewhere. Few called it home, but Shen Jin liked it and had long since considered it his own.

When buying a better house, Gu Yu suggested getting two large apartments that could be combined into one, but Shen Jin preferred a garden villa with a large fountain. Gu Yu was skeptical: “A garden? I’ll end up taking care of it, while you just sit back and watch, right?”

“We’ll hire more people. I’ll pay, isn’t that enough?” Shen Jin replied playfully, flipping through a brochure with great interest, while his other hand rested dramatically over his chest. “Ah, I don’t know what it is, but my chest suddenly hurts. Must be from the surgery after some alpha hurt me real bad back in the day…”

“Still hurt?” Gu Yu pretended to be serious as he scooped him into his arms. “Let me check if it’s real.”

Shen Jin struggled and laughed in his arms, but Gu Yu had no choice; in the end, he bought both the garden villa and the riverside apartment.

During the first year of moving in, Shen Jin often mentioned how it might not be a bad idea to raise a child.

Gu Yu’s parents were no longer around, so Shen Jin always wanted to give Gu Yu a child connected by blood. Otherwise, he feared Gu Yu would have no close family left in the world.

This child would surely arrive with a heart full of love, experiencing a wonderful upbringing different from theirs.

Although Gu Yu respected his wishes, he didn’t seem to have much longing for the idealized family life of three.

When Shen Jin insisted on going without protection, Gu Yu, sounding serious but with a hint of jest, said, “How about I be your son instead?”

Shen Jin hooked his arms around Gu Yu’s neck, telling him to stop joking. The rest of the process felt like Shen Jin was forcing things, leaving Gu Yu wondering whose child it would even be.

Thankfully, after hearing Shen Jin’s teasing—”Big brother really wants to be *’strawberried’* until pregnant”—Gu Yu eventually gave in.

Afterward, Shen Jin rubbed his aching stomach and couldn’t help but tease Gu Yu, “You said you didn’t want it, but when you didn’t use protection, your little strawberry seemed pretty excited?”

Gu Yu’s face flushed, almost on the verge of tears from embarrassment.

Shen Jin quickly hugged and coaxed him until Gu Yu finally fell asleep. He was exhausted too, sleeping until 10 a.m. the next day—when he woke, Gu Yu was already preparing lunch. Shen Jin slipped into the study, intending to play a game he hadn’t beaten yet.

Just a few days ago, Qin Zhu had mocked him during a video call, saying he was getting old and might need some “blue pills” to improve his reaction time. Shen Jin was determined to prove him wrong.

To check some tips easily, he borrowed Gu Yu’s tablet, but he accidentally stumbled upon a lot of documents and video records—apparently all about childbirth.

The latest viewed time was 3 a.m. today.

He froze, completely unaware of when Gu Yu had left the bedroom during the night. Yet, he could imagine Gu Yu sitting alone in the study, repeatedly going over the material. The documentary had told the story of an omega who died from blood loss—at the point where the playback stopped, the doctor had just explained that such an emergency was nearly impossible to prevent, and no amount of money could guarantee a successful rescue.

Gu Yu had probably closed the video after reaching that part.

Shen Jin snapped out of it, his gaze lingering for a long time.

He remembered, in the middle of the night, feeling something behind him while half-asleep. Looking back, it must have been when Gu Yu returned from the study and, unable to resist holding him, carefully avoided disturbing his rest.

Apart from that, there were also some professional research papers discussing alpha fertility.

Theoretically, some alphas aren’t entirely unable to conceive, but the conditions are stringent, and the risks are higher. Usually, the other partner also has to be an alpha. If the partner is an omega, there haven’t been many successful cases.

It seemed these materials had been sent to Gu Yu by Tao Yan. In their chat, Tao Yan had asked: “What are you planning?”

Gu Yu responded: “Mind your own business. Careful, or you might lose your head.”

Shen Jin casually scrolled up and noticed that the two of them had previously been attacking each other over whether to blanch the yam for soup. These research papers were the most serious topic they had ever discussed.

“You guys could at least talk about stock prices…” Shen Jin muttered helplessly. In the document, Gu Yu had marked and highlighted key points, as if eager to travel back in time to switch his major to biology and research the topic himself.

The text and diagrams were densely packed, each step rigorously laid out.

Shen Jin gradually lost focus, staring at the screen and sitting alone for a long time.

On the other screen, the game character was holding onto a steel rope, and the player needed to press five buttons simultaneously to leap across a chasm and retrieve an antidote to complete the level without losing a life. Even for a skilled player like Shen Jin, this spot had caused multiple failures, forcing him to sacrifice a life to get past the poisonous pit.

Just as he placed his hand back on the “W” key, a head peeked in from the doorway, interrupting his thoughts: “Did you beat it yet? I just learned a new recipe for fried yogurt from Aunt Chen yesterday. Want to try some?”

Shen Jin looked up at Gu Yu, his hand slipping off the “W” key.

In the end, he only pressed the spacebar twice. The game character let go of the rope, jumped in place, and landed safely. He stood up and walked toward Gu Yu.

“Let’s not have kids after all,” Shen Jin said. “I realized I don’t like children that much.”

He only liked Gu Yu and had wanted to leave a so-called blood bond for him. But now that he thought about it, that didn’t seem fair to the child.

Gu Yu’s usually calm eyes showed a rare flicker of surprise. “Why did you suddenly change your mind?”

He was nervous, afraid Shen Jin might change his mind again at any moment.

“From playing the game,” Shen Jin waved as he walked over. “If my kid can’t even beat the province-level score in a game, I’d probably die of frustration.”

“…The provincial record isn’t something just anyone can get,” Gu Yu scolded. “Isn’t that basically child abuse?”

Clinging to Gu Yu’s arm and nibbling on the fried yogurt, Shen Jin teased, “At least I didn’t say national-level.” He then solemnly promised, “We can raise two more turtles instead, so you’ll still be tied with my games as number one in my heart.”

“Tied?” Gu Yu sternly demanded he let go. “Don’t touch me tonight.”

Of course, Shen Jin snuggled closer into Gu Yu’s arm, refusing to budge, shamelessly begging for another serving of fried yogurt from CEO Gu.

It’s been ten years since Gu Yu and Shen Jin reunited when Gu Yu was 19.

After the finals, Shen Jin finally had enough time off for a proper break. Every day, Gu Yu would rush home, not wanting to miss any time spent clinging to his senior.

After parking the car and entering through the side door, he returned to the first floor of the villa. The garden was full of blooming roses, and Shen Jin was tending to the recently transplanted hydrangeas near the fountain, though it was hard to tell if they’d survive.

Seeing that the hydrangeas were still hanging in there under Shen Jin’s care, Gu Yu couldn’t help but cast an approving glance their way before freeing one hand to pull Shen Jin back inside. “I brought you a lot of things, including something delicious. I want to cook a few dishes for you tonight.”

No matter how many years passed, when Gu Yu came home, he still loved calling Shen Jin “senior” at every turn, showing none of the maturity he displayed outside.

At that moment, his arms were full of items, like a little hunter showing off his catch after a trip.

But Shen Jin hesitated as he accepted the gifts, unable to bring himself to tell Gu Yu that the neighbor had invited him over to play games in the afternoon, and he had already eaten.

He thought telling Aunt Chen would be enough, but he forgot his proud little hunter would come to him personally to share the victory.

He was doomed. Shen Jin watched as Gu Yu tied on an apron with bunny prints, resigning himself to the fate of being stuffed to death later.

*

Of all the seasons they’d shared together, Shen Jin loved summer the most.

He loved the clear sky and the blooming flowers in summer and especially the long hours of daylight. Whenever he walked in the evening and saw the sky still bright, he felt like the whole world was glowing and beautiful.

People often joked that Province G had only one season: summer. Shen Jin loved it here, just as he loved every seemingly endless summer.

On an ordinary evening, he hurried home from the north of the city, thinking about giving the small cake he had just bought to Gu Yu. But when he arrived, he saw the other sitting by the fountain, gazing silently up at the endless sky. 

 

That familiar figure, quiet and still as always, made Shen Jin pause from afar, not wanting to disturb him. 

 

It wasn’t until the night breeze carried the faint scent of flowers that Gu Yu seemed to come back to himself and notice Shen Jin’s presence. He stood up quickly and walked towards him.

 

Shen Jin met him halfway, took Gu Yu’s hand, and asked, “Thinking about Uncle Lu?”

 

Gu Yu paused for a moment, then softly replied, “Yeah, there’s a really bright star tonight.”

 

It wasn’t often one could see stars in the city’s night sky. Shen Jin turned back to glance up and found only one twinkling star, shining faintly, much like those gentle eyes he’d only seen in photographs. 

 

As the wind blew lightly again, Shen Jin tightened his grip on Gu Yu’s hand, wanting to say something, but Gu Yu seemed to understand. He ruffled Shen Jin’s hair and shifted his attention to the cake in Shen Jin’s hand. “Did senior buy this for me?”

 

Snapping out of his thoughts, Shen Jin quickly handed the cake to Gu Yu. “This shop just opened. I heard it’s really good. I waited in line for over an hour.”

 

“Oh?” Gu Yu pretended to be on alert. “Did I forget a special occasion today? Am I sleeping on the couch tonight?”

 

“Who would dare let Mr. Gu sleep on the couch? I’d be the first to protect you.” The fragrance of flowers grew stronger. Shen Jin didn’t say more but led Gu Yu back indoors, continuing, “Can’t I buy you a cake even if it’s not a special day?”

 

Gu Yu’s shining eyes looked at him, brimming with amusement. “Then can I make a wish?”

 

Shen Jin nodded, pulling out a candle, intending to light it, but in doing so, accidentally revealed the lighter in his pocket. Gu Yu instantly caught onto it and became serious. “Smoking again?”

 

“… I didn’t. I swear. I must’ve grabbed it from the team by accident.”

 

Shen Jin had mostly quit smoking by now and only ever had one during social occasions, but he still felt like he couldn’t explain himself properly. He turned to flee, but Gu Yu blew out the candle and wished aloud, “I wish for senior to surrender right now,” before catching him in one swift motion and opening the elevator door to go upstairs.

 

It was around 1 AM when Shen Jin groggily woke up, only to find Gu Yu watching him.

 

The night breeze whispered softly. Shen Jin wasn’t sure if it was out of confusion or concern, but he reached out to touch Gu Yu’s sharp features. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

 

“I want to look at you a little longer,” Gu Yu said in a low voice, gripping Shen Jin’s wrist and pulling him into his arms. “Decades are so short. I want to wish to be with you forever.”

 

Pressed against Gu Yu’s chest, Shen Jin could hear the steady, heartwarming rhythm of his heartbeat.

 

“It’s not short,” Shen Jin murmured, wanting to get closer to that heartbeat, like he was drawing near to the most precious thing in his life. “Every moment since I met you, I haven’t wasted a single second.”

 

Under the bright moonlight, Shen Jin looked up at Gu Yu and, without knowing why, suddenly asked if he remembered their first Valentine’s Day together ten years ago, when he had said he had several questions he wanted to ask.

 

“I remember,” Gu Yu replied, somewhat puzzled. “Why bring this up all of a sudden?”

 

“I didn’t ask the last question,” Shen Jin said, brushing his fingers along the corner of Gu Yu’s eyes, chuckling. “Can you guess what it was?”

 

Gu Yu clearly had no idea, so Shen Jin told him, “At that time, I wanted to ask… do you know when I started liking you?”

 

The person in front of him seemed momentarily stunned, as if he had never considered the question.

 

“I knew it,” Shen Jin said, nestling deeper into Gu Yu’s embrace, finding a more comfortable position. “The answer has always been obvious.”

 

Gu Yu was quiet for a moment, then started to recall, countless memories flashing in his mind.

 

“Was it that day in high school, when we fought and got caught in the rain?”

 

“Or maybe it was when I gave you that chocolate, even though it was accidentally expired…”

 

“Or was it back in junior high, the year I finally got taller than you?”

 

Gu Yu guessed wildly, but the moment he brought up their height difference, Shen Jin’s foot almost kicked his knee. “Wanna bet I’ll break your legs?”

 

The two began to bicker like they had when they were younger, with Gu Yu pinning Shen Jin’s hands down so he couldn’t move, leaving Shen Jin to voice his last protest before being kissed, “I’m never telling you for the rest of my life—!”

 

*

 

It was a late summer afternoon when Shen Jin sat in the exam hall, idly waiting to turn in his paper. The sunlight angled through the shadows of trees, spilling onto his desk and casting flickers of light over the long lashes of the boy beside him.

 

Shen Jin had noticed as soon as he entered the room that the boy sitting next to him had unusually melancholy eyes, eyes that seemed too heavy for someone his age, as if they couldn’t see the world around him.

 

Just a few days earlier, Shen Jin’s new deskmate had told him there was a boy in their year named Gu Yu who was incredibly good-looking, the kind of guy who could easily be crowned the most handsome in the grade. The deskmate had asked Shen Jin if he’d seen him before.

 

Shen Jin hadn’t, and in his rebellious teenage pride, thought to himself: *How cliché.*

 

The exam room was silent. It was just a placement test, so all the students’ seats had been randomly assigned. Shen Jin grew bored and began to wonder which class the boy beside him was from, whether he’d have the chance to meet him again, and if so, how he’d go about it. His thoughts grew distracted, and, feeling uncharacteristically nervous, he couldn’t help but glance at the boy beside him.

 

His eyes were different from everyone else’s. In that moment, Shen Jin felt an inexplicable sense of injustice for this boy: *Who cares about that Gu Yu guy? This one is far more appealing to me.*

 

But why did he look so sad?

 

Shen Jin quickly averted his gaze, his ears turning slightly red. His heart raced as he thought, *The test isn’t even that hard. If only… if only he could smile a little.*

 

At that time, the young Shen Jin didn’t know that one day that smile would belong solely to him. And the sleepy, weary Gu Yu, resting his head on the desk, also didn’t know that in this cold and indifferent world, he had already found someone new to care about.

 

From then on, Shen Jin would become the light that illuminated Gu Yu’s path—an endless summer belonging only to him.

 

(End)