Wen Mingyu asked him his hiding place and how they couldn’t find him anywhere. They had practically turned the dorm upside down earlier, scaring himself half to death.
But Mu Zhan had been hiding in the closet.
The moment the closet door swung open, he was so nervous that he reacted like someone scared of the light, attempting to shrink back. However, he soon sensed something was wrong.
No one could see him, as if he didn’t exist at all.
Realizing this, he froze. His mind was blank, unable to process what was happening.
Voices drifted from outside the closet. He heard the tattletale child apologizing to Wen Mingyu. After that, everyone had left, and Wen Mingyu was about to go outside to look for him.
Mu Zhan stepped out, his body acting faster than his brain as he grabbed the hem of Wen Mingyu’s clothes.
He didn’t want to admit it, but deep down, he was afraid.
Suddenly arriving in an unfamiliar place and becoming invisible for an instant—what if next time, he vanished completely? And what if those who knew him would soon forget him, leaving no trace that he had ever existed in this world.
His face was stiff and cold, and only a hint of panic flashed in his eyes.
Then, when Wen Mingyu turned around and saw him, without hesitation, he pulled him into a tight hug. His grip was so forceful that it sent Mu Zhan stumbling backward.
The hug was firm, but it gave him an indescribable sense that everything was real.
When others failed to notice him because they couldn’t see him, he didn’t feel relieved or at ease. Instead, he wished they had spotted him. Because compared to being discovered, vanishing into thin air felt far more terrifying.
Mu Zhan didn’t answer where he had been hiding, and Wen Mingyu didn’t press him. Escaping unscathed was already the most joyful outcome. Earlier, he had feared the teacher would discover Mu Zhan and send him back to those terrible parents.
That night, the already taciturn Mu Zhan spoke even less than usual, unusually silent and withdrawn.
Wen Mingyu sensed the subtle change in the atmosphere, suspecting Mu Zhan had been badly scared, and wanted to comfort him.
As they prepared for bed, Wen Mingyu asked, “Does Mu Mu want to sleep on the inner side?”
Mu Zhan replied expressionlessly, “Either is fine.”
Under Wen Mingyu’s gaze, he went to the inner side of the bed and lay down. Though he usually disliked having his back to others, tonight was different. Mu Zhan faced the white wall, pressing himself close to it, as if trying to merge with it.
Wen Mingyu turned off the light, slipped under the covers, and crept closer.
He gently poked Mu Zhan’s back. “Is Mu Mu in a bad mood?”
Mu Zhan remained silent, still facing the wall.
Wen Mingyu sighed inwardly before reaching out to pull the quilt over both of them, tucking it snugly so that not even the slightest chill from outside could seep in.
Then, he carefully shifted his body, the frame creaking softly beneath him.
He scooted closer until they were very close and felt warm together.
Mu Zhan stiffened in an instant.
Wen Mingyu pressed his forehead against Mu Zhan’s back, wrapping his arms loosely around his waist, like he was soothing a frightened cat, yet afraid of scaring him away.
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Before he could make sense of it, Mu Zhan felt his hand being held. Wen Mingyu’s hand was warm, its heat spread through his own, and then he felt his hand being placed on something fluffy.
Startled, Mu Zhan turned to look.
His first thought was that Wen Mingyu kept a rabbit, but he had never seen it before. And this position…
He turned around and saw rabbit ears sprouting from Wen Mingyu’s head. Snow-white with a touch of pale pink, they drooped softly beside his face, making him look utterly adorable and harmless.
Mu Zhan was so shocked he forgot to speak. Why would rabbit ears grow on a person’s head? He touched the base of the ears. They weren’t decorations. They were real and warm to the touch.
Wen Mingyu’s eyes curved like crescent moons as he smiled, “I saw your antlers earlier. Now I’m showing you my ears. We’ve exchanged secrets, so don’t tell anyone, okay?”
Mu Zhan’s mouth gaped open and then closed, forgetting how to still speak. After a long moment, he managed to stammer out, “Y-you…have them too?”
In his case, when he was being bullied by his so-called brothers, he accidentally revealed the horns on his head in the heat of the moment and had been called a monster. On the surface, he had remained expressionless and unmoved, but how could he possibly not care?
He never imagined meeting someone just like him.
Wen Mingyu continued, “This is normal. It’s not just you and me; there are others with secondary characteristics too, though they are quite rare. Your antlers are so cute. Can I touch them?”
Mu Zhan was still holding Wen Mingyu’s rabbit ears. The soft, fluffy texture felt so good to touch that he uncontrollably stroked them twice more. He shook his head, refusing to let him touch them.
Wen Mingyu stared at him with a lingering haze, clearly hinting reciprocity was only fair.
Mu Zhan paused, then reluctantly released his grip.
As time passed, Mu Zhan’s wariness toward Wen Mingyu gradually faded. Now, seeing those rabbit ears, he felt a strange kinship, a connection he had never felt before.
He said flatly, “I can’t control it. Sometimes, it just appears. Even when I want it to come out, it doesn’t always work.”
“It’s fine. You’re still young and not used to it yet. You’ll learn to control it eventually.”
Mu Zhan tried again and was surprised to find it worked this time.
Two delicate dragon horns emerged from his soft, jet-black hair. Neither of them knew these were dragon horns, though.
Wen Mingyu’s eyes widened slightly. He tentatively reached out and touched them. The texture was hard to describe, but he found it strangely pleasing, unable to resist stroking them several times.
But Mu Zhan felt increasingly uncomfortable. He was never one to tolerate close contact with others, Wen Mingyu being a rare exception. But this feeling, like having his weakness exposed, left him flustered and uneasy.
He grabbed Wen Mingyu’s hand, preventing him from touching it.
But Wen Mingyu stared at him with sparkling eyes, a gaze so compelling it made it harder to refuse.
Mu Zhan paused silently, allowing him to touch once more before truly refusing further contact/ the dragon horns were also put away.
Wen Mingyu felt a pang of regret, then promptly warned him that this matter must remain secret, even from his own parents. After all, they were people capable of abusing children. If they discovered that the child they neglected was actually a precious Omega, they might very well bring more harm to Mu Zhan.
Although Wen Mingyu still didn’t fully understand the process of differentiating into an Omega, since he was older than Mu Zhan, he figured his differentiation would occur sooner. Once he gained experience, he could teach Mu Zhan what to watch out for and how to avoid being caught and taken away by the institutions.
They gently stroked each other’s rabbit ears and dragon horns, their moods gradually calming. The fatigue they had been suppressing began to wash over them.
Before they knew it, their eyes closed as they drifted off to sleep.
They leaned against each other, heads touching, arms draped around each other’s waists, like two cubs nestled together for the night.
In the soft bedding, they warmed each other, their cheeks flushed from sleep, buried in pillows that pressed soft mounds of flesh into their faces. Their hair lay tousled and messy, with two stubborn tufts sticking up, as they slept soundly.
They slept soundly and dreamlessly through the night.
After this incident, Mu Zhan and Wen Mingyu grew closer, chatting with each other more often and sometimes teasing each other playfully. Mu Zhan became more open and cheerful.
It was as if he had been curled up and hiding himself for a long time and was finally emerging from his shell, tentatively poking a small feeler, eager to touch and experience the world.
Wen Mingyu noticed this and became even more proactive in interacting with him, encouraging him to speak more and stay cheerful.
The incident in the closet where he became invisible for a few seconds never happened again. Mu Zhan couldn’t figure it out either, so he stopped dwelling on it.
Everything seemed to return to their usual routine.
Wen Mingyu taught him to read and write, covering basic knowledge, shared nutrition solutions with him, and they bathed and slept together.
Until a cold struck, leaving Wen Mingyu bedridden.
At first, it was just a couple of coughs, hardly noticeable. However, when he stepped out of the dorm and returned, he came back with the teacher, who was carrying medicine and nutrition solutions. The teacher instructed him to take his medicine on time, get plenty of rest, and avoid going out in the wind for now. The teacher would be checking up on him, so he had to be a good boy.
Wen Migyu nodded obediently. The teacher watched him for a moment longer before turning away, closing the door behind her.
Once gone, Mu Zhan, who had been hiding on the balcony, finally emerged. He hurried over, propping himself up on the bedrails to look at Wen Mingyu. His small face was normally tense, guarded, and expressionless, but now an unmistakable anxiety flickered in his eyes.
“You caught a cold?”
Mu Zhan’s gaze fixed intently on Wen Mingyu, his fingers unconsciously clutching the corner of the blanket, crumpling it into wrinkles.
Wen Mingyu nodded. It was just a minor cold, and he would be fine soon. There was nothing to worry about.
But he didn’t know that he and Mu Zhan were from different worlds, with vastly different understandings of things.
To him, it was just a minor illness, but in ancient times, many people lost their lives to such an illness.
Mu Zhan himself had once suffered from wind-cold after his birth mother ordered him to bathe in cold water. The illness left him utterly miserable, his body limp and weak, as if his soul were floating, ready to depart at any moment. It was only through the palace’s expensive medicinal herbs that his condition gradually improved, though his body remained frail for some time after recovery.
Now Wen Mingyu had contracted the same illness, yet he was only given a few small white pills. Could such medicine truly cure him? Had the teacher abandoned him here, leaving him to fend for himself because there was no hope?
Mu Zhan’s thoughts spiraled wildly, his expression growing increasingly grim. He looked more like a patient than the bedridden Wen Mingyu.
Wen Mingyu’s face was pale, his lips lacking color. He coughed intermittently, his head throbbing and limbs aching with weakness. He was curled up under the covers, his chin partially hidden, making his face appear smaller and more fragile than usual.
He murmured faintly, “… Want some water.”
Mu Zhan leaned in to listen, and immediately turned to grab the chubby children’s bottle. Clutching it to his chest, he scampered off to the water dispenser at the end of the hallway, his footsteps pattering as he hurried to fill it. As he slipped out the door, he left it ajar just a crack, quickly darting through to keep the cold wind from entering.
Before long, Mu Zhan returned, bottle in hand. The bottle was plump and small, but to the young Mu Zhan, it was quite large. He had to use both hands to carry it back. The warmth of the water radiated through the bottle, making his palms turn slightly red.
He popped open the lid, brought the straw to Wen Mingyu’s lips, and fed him a few sips.
The moisture soothed Wen Mingyu’s throat, bringing some relief. After a quiet thank you, he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.
Logically, given Wen Mingyu’s condition, Mu Zhan should have walked away. They weren’t even that close, only twenty days since they had met, nowhere near the level of sworn brothers.
But Mu Zhan was still just a child now, devoid of the future’s dark, violent tendencies. His heart remained soft, though fear of being hurt masked it behind a cold exterior. If someone showed him genuine kindness without ulterior motives, he would respond in kind. And if that person was especially important to him, he would give even more, as if willing to pour out everything he had.
Mu Zhan placed the water bottle beside the bed, then slipped off his slippers and climbed in. He burrowed under the covers, tucking Wen Mingyu in tightly to keep him warm, before curling up beside him himself, serving as a human hot water bottle.
Wen Mingyu, chilled from the cold and feverish, instinctively clung to the warm source of heat beside him, unable to resist the embrace.
Mu Zhan offered no resistance whatsoever, submitting to the hold as if he were completely a different person.
Though lying down, Mu Zhan didn’t fall asleep. His gaze never left Wen Mingyu, as if the slightest carelessness might make him disappear.
After watching like this for an unknown length of time, Mu Zhan felt hungry. Guessing it must be mealtime already, he carefully got up. He reached for the small box containing the nutrient solution, mimicking Wen Mingyu’s usual actions of inserting the straw. Then he gently woke Wen Mingyu, urging him to drink it to replenish his energy.
Wen Mingyu was too weak to muster much spirit. His usual radiant smile was gone, his reactions sluggish. He seemed to function only when prompted, obediently following his instructions.
He lowered his head and drank slowly. Only after consuming nearly half did he suddenly remember this wasn’t meant for him alone; he still had to share it with Mu Zhan.
He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. “You should have drunk it first. If I drink it before you, I might infect you.”
Mu Zhan didn’t mind, but he didn’t plan to drink it either. It was obvious that Wen Mingyu was sick and needed the nutrition solution more. Skipping a meal wouldn’t hurt him at all.
As they grew more familiar, even though Mu Zhan always wore a cold expression, Wen Mingyu could somewhat guess his moods and feelings. Wen Mingyu certainly didn’t approve of starving himself, but he dared not give Mu Zhan the solution either. So he tried to get up to fetch the snacks he had hidden for Mu Zhan.
But with his body aching and weak from the cold, even getting out of bed proved to be tedious. Mu Zhan quickly stopped him, pushing him back down onto the bed.
Having witnessed Wen Mingyu’s stubbornness and determination, Mu Zhan knew forcing him to stay put would be futile. Instead, he fetched the snacks himself and ate a few pieces in front of Wen Mingyu to tide himself over, and only then did Wen Mingyu relent.
After eating, Wen Mingyu felt a bit more energetic and reminded his clingy little brother, “Mu Mu, don’t get close to me. You might catch it.”
When they first met, Mu Zhan always wore that distant, aloof expression, but now the roles were reversed. No sooner had he finished speaking that a shadow of sadness appeared in Mu Zhan’s eyes, like a puppy that had been rejected by its owner, quietly whining in pain. He looked pitiful enough to make anyone want to scoop him up and cuddle him.
Wen Mingyu found him utterly irresistible. After a moment’s thought, he suggested, “I want to hear a story. Will Mu Mu tell me one?”
Mu Zhan didn’t respond but turned and brought over the storybook. He kicked off his shoes, climbed onto the bed, and sat beside Wen Mingyu, not staying away as he had been told.
Mu Zhan didn’t know many characters, but it was enough to read children’s books. The occasional unfamiliar words didn’t hinder him.
ChiFu: here’s a chapter everyone! Sorry again for being inactive. My internship is done so I will try to pump out more!