Chapter Text
The restaurant is upscale—and, if He Xuan was being honest, that’s the least surprising thing about his day.
He stands on the pavement, hands in the pockets of his overcoat, listening to the click of cameras behind him.
The paparazzi make comments with every step he takes from the car to the door, always with the intention of making the man turn his head and respond, guaranteeing a better shot.
“Meeting a girl? Is she cute?”
He Xuan’s jaw stiffens as he rolls his eyes, ducking his head as a bodyguard holds the door open.
He doesn’t look, but mutters under his breath;
“Yeah, I wish.”
The thing he should have expected, most likely, was for the place to be almost entirely empty. The restaurant itself is split into two main dining areas—in front of the bar, and behind.
There are a few well to do customers sitting at the bar stools, drinking cocktails that are only appropriate for before 5 p.m. when you’re someone who happens to be wearing an expensive strand of pearls around your neck. Other than that, there’s a small group of omegas sitting at a table near the front; deep into what seems like a rather expensive brunch.
Behind them, however, in the dining area past the bar—is an alpha in a dark suit, her expression impassive, not allowing anyone other than wait staff to pass back and forth.
Other than He Xuan, of course; who walks by with little issue, not even having to say a word.
It’s been some time since he’s needed to introduce himself.
“This is overkill, don’t you think?”
He’s glad he managed to say the words before he saw him—because he probably wouldn’t have managed to sound so blithe after.
He hasn’t seen him in almost ten years, and that—
That tends to make a man feel like he’s prepared.
But not for the sight of long, crossed legs, sleek, perfectly combed hair, or the way those eyes, sharp as ever, don’t even look up at him as he speaks.
He’s too busy scrolling on the iPad propped against his thigh, initialing something.
“I was having lunch with a movie star,” he says, his voice infuriatingly mild. “I thought you might like privacy.”
He Xuan has become accustomed to the lack of it—but now; he finds himself sitting down heavily, the legs of his chair creaking as Shi Wudu lifts his hand, examining his manicure.
It looks immaculate, with his nails painted a nude, professional color—and still, he frowns, looking to one of his assistants.
“They’re getting too long—have the tech come this afternoon.”
The young beta in question nods nervously, scrambling to enter the request into her phone, juggling that with the iPad after Shi Wudu passes it over.
“Yes, sir!”
Now, he looks up at him, reaching for his glass of wine—and if He Xuan’s eyes weren’t so trapped on his face, they’d probably be pulled back down to the delicate way his watch slides over his wrist.
(A watch that, from the look of it, costs more than the house He Xuan was born in.)
“Cat got your tongue?”
No.
“No,” he says, internally wincing at the fact that he said that out loud. “You just…look different.”
The older man surveys him, perfectly shaped eyebrows quirking ever so slightly.
“You got taller.”
And He Xuan, who somehow was unprepared for this conversation, blurts out:
“You’re not as tall as I remember.”
Shi Wudu stares him down, and He Xuan doesn’t apologize—because frankly, he could have said something far more rude, intentionally or not, and the man would have deserved it.
But He Xuan didn’t mean it that way.
“…You were sixteen,” Shi Wudu recalls flatly. “And a late bloomer, as I recall.”
He Xuan can’t hold back a small grimace.
“I’m sure I did seem tall to you back then.”
He’s not even short, is the thing, not for an omega, but—
That final but was the operative term, and He Xuan hadn’t known that back then.
With that face, he’d had passing suspicions, obviously—but this was his best friend’s older brother.
His best friend’s older brother who happened to be in university, one of the most prestigious programs in the country—and He Xuan had become accustomed to seeing him being home classmates, always alphas.
And he had seemed tall back then, but now—now, He Xuan can’t stop looking at the narrow shape of his shoulders. The curve of his waist, through the cut of his dress shirt—
Even the smooth arch of his neck, chased by the realization that there’s no collar there.
“…I didn’t realize—”
“I was the first omega in my program,” Shi Wudu shrugs, sipping from his glass. “I preferred to study without the scrutiny. I didn’t come out until after graduation.”
Prudent. That’s—
That’s prudent, obviously.
“You didn’t think I was an alpha, did you?”
“No,” he says again, too quickly, because he didn’t—he’d assumed the man was a beta, probably.
Yes, he probably thought that.
But it’s difficult to focus, because—
Because the business executive isn’t wearing scent blockers, and that is painfully obvious by now.
“Thank god,” Shi Wudu rolls his eyes, lifting his hand to gesture for the waiter. “I was about to be offended.”
That would offend—?
“Congratulations on the movie, by the way.”
“…Thanks,” he says, finally managing to breathe through his mouth enough to recover, offhandedly telling the waiter his drink order.
“What happened to medical school?”
He’s honestly surprised that the older man remembers, but he shrugs.
“I still went,” he says, gratefully pulling a glass towards him when another server brings water. “But this turned out to be a faster way to pay the bills.”
Shi Wudu’s fingertip slides across the rim of his wineglass as he slowly looks him over, his expression unreadable.
“More than paid them, from the look of it,” he says, eyeing the designer clothes. “And here I thought you were so proud of that working class background.”
“You think I’m not?”
“You’ve learned how to fit into a place like this remarkably fast.”
“…The studio hired a stylist,” He Xuan shrugs, taking another drink from his glass. “Any pap walks I do for the next few months are still considered good PR.”
“Sensible. They deserve a raise.”
“You don’t even know how much they’re paying them—”
“For that much improvement, they deserve more than whatever retainer a film studio pays out.”
The worst part is, his tone isn’t even snide, as rude as he’s being—he’s just appreciating someone else’s competence.
And just before he can open his mouth to tell the man that he’s being an asshole—the waiter returns, setting down He Xuan’s drink, along with one of the more expensive cuts of meat he’s ever seen.
And he can’t even be annoyed that the omega ordered for him, not when he eyes the perfect sear.
“Are you going to get to why you invited me out?” He mutters, lifting the steak knife on his place setting.
Shi Wudu shrugs, leaning back as a plate of crab legs is set in front of him, grabbing a set of metal tongs.
“I was surprised that you didn’t ask before accepting the invitation.”
“I was curious.”
“So was I,” Shi Wudu agrees. “When I saw that you and my sister had reconnected.”
“…You can’t possibly be worried about that now,” he mutters. “Not when she’s—”
“No,” Shi Wudu rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t worried about that back then, either. You were just a bad influence.”
That leaves a bitter taste in He Xuan’s mouth.
You’d think that rich people would always prefer something like lobster over crab—but from the expert way the omega goes about cracking the shell, pulling out the meat inside—that doesn’t appear to be the case.
“And I’m not now?”
“No,” Shi Wudu shrugs, dipping a perfectly intact strip of meat into a waiting sauce dish, staring him down. “I’d still say that you are.”
He Xuan pauses, a piece of meat almost to his lips. “…And you dragged me out here to, what? Tell me to stay away from her again?” He rolls his eyes. “She’s twenty five years old, you can’t dictate who she spends time with—”
“Let me be very clear,” Shi Wudu says, all while He Xuan is subjected to the sight of him parting his lips, slowly sucking the meat inside. “My sister could be blind and gray haired in a nursing home, and if I thought her mahjong partner was a bad influence—I’d get rid of them.”
“That’s super well-adjusted of you.”
“But that’s not why we’re here,” he shrugs, pulling another leg from the cluster. “Actually, you being a bad influence is a net benefit to me.”
He Xuan frowns, chewing. “I really fail to imagine how.”
“It’s fairly simple,” Shi Wudu shrugs, and of all of the things He Xuan could have imagined—
“I need my sister to get someone pregnant, so having her surrounded by unsavory characters would be helpful.”
He snaps the crab shell with a crack, just as He Xuan begins to choke.
“…You…” he fumbles for his own glass of wine, choking it down. “You want her to what?”
Shi Wudu stares at him, using his tongs to gesture as he talks. “Sire offspring. Procreate. Reproduce.”
“How?”
“When an alpha and an omega love each other very very much—”
“Stop acting like you don’t know what the fuck I mean!” He Xuan snaps, slamming his glass down.
In the face of a snarling alpha, plenty would cower. This menace only rolls his eyes.
“I know she didn’t present until after we moved—but honestly, if you haven’t noticed she’s an alpha by now—”
(If fate has a sense of humor, it would be found in the secondary gender presentation of the Shi siblings.)
“I’ve noticed,” he hisses with a glare. “But Shi Qingxuan? You want Shi Qingxuan to knock someone up?”
Shi Wudu stares back at him—as if he hasn’t suggested something absolutely ludicrous.
“Before December, preferably.”
“And how—”
He had lots of lofty ideas when he accepted this invitation. Strutting into a restaurant to meet the man who, objectively, made him feel worthless on the worst day of his life—and show how far he’d come. That he wasn’t that person anymore. Maybe rub it all in his face.
Now, he’s too flabbergasted to do anything but ask more questions.
“Why?”
“She needs to have an heir.”
“Shi Qingxuan isn’t responsible enough to have a baby—”
“I’m aware.” Shi Wudu lifts another strip of meat to his lips. “I plan on raising the child, obviously.”
Obviously.
“…And what about the mother, in that scenario?” He stares. “They would just let you raise it?”
“I’m sure we could come to some kind of arrangement.”
“Arrange—!” He slides a hand down his face. “Why does Shi Qingxuan need an heir?”
“…It’s an issue with the family trust.” Shi Wudu shrugs. “There’s no need for you to understand the jargon.”
“Fine—but how would I be able to help?”
“You’re an alpha,” Shi Wudu shrugs, “I’m assuming you know what makes someone think with their knot. It’s not as if I need my sister in a relationship to get this done, and since she’s got no interest in settling down with someone reputable—”
“How would you know that she doesn’t?”
“…” Shi Wudu huffs, reaching down into his bag. “Because she brought someone home recently. Someone perfect.”
“What does perfect even mean for someone like you—?”
“Polite. Good breeding. Well groomed. Good looks. Intelligent, and clearly capable of being discreet.” He pulls out his cellphone, scrolling through his photos until he comes across the right one, holding it up for him to see. “Look at those hips—if Qingxuan had any intention of settling down, I’d be an uncle already—”
“You sound like an old auntie,” He Xuan mutters, leaning forward to get a better look—
Then, he’s choking for a second time.
“Xie Lian?!”
“You know him?”
“Yeah, he’s—” he hesitates, staring at the omega’s face, struggling to try and even imagine his best friend balls deep in—
Yeah, no.
“He is not an option.”
“What, is he taken?”
He Xuan has no idea how to answer that, so he only nods. “Before long, probably.”
“By—?”
“An old friend.”
“Ah,” he sags, looking so disappointed, He Xuan almost feels bad for him.
Almost.
And at the very least, he can’t blame him. Xie Lian is very much the epitome of the kind of guys parents want you to bring home.
“In any case, I don’t need her to settle down,” he shrugs, going back to his meal. “I just need her to breed.”
“Breed?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was dealing with someone with such delicate sensibilities. I need her to have a baby.”
“…If it’s so important, why don’t you do it?” He Xuan says this, tragically, as his own eyes drift downward, settling on the older man’s hips.
And when he looks back up, Shi Wudu is staring straight at him. “Why, are you offering?”
Crack!
For the first time since he arrived, he doesn’t answer a question with an immediate no.
“…I just don’t understand,” he mutters. “With the new inheritance law, it all passes to you anyway. Do you not want kids or something?”
“No,” the omega corrects him. “I’ve always wanted them.”
“You just don’t wanna be pregnant, then?”
He can imagine that fairly easily, looking at him now. Someone so cold and beautiful, he’d likely rather keep his body as it is. Besides, pregnancy is harder on male o—
“No,” Shi Wudu corrects him again, sliding his glass over so the waiter can top off his wine. “That is something that I’m genuinely looking forward to, when the time comes.”
There’s a softness to his voice that makes He Xuan stop, staring at him.
“…Then I don’t understand—”
“I need a baby conceived by December, at the latest.” Shi Wudu says firmly, moving onto a claw, working his way into the shell with calm precision. “And I can’t get pregnant in that kind of time frame.”
“Is your cycle—?”
“You really think you can ask me about that?”
“I don’t know, you think you can ask me about getting your baby sister to knot someone—”
“Let me tell you something,” Shi Wudu looks up, slamming his crab claw back down onto his plate. “About that new inheritance law. It doesn’t extend to illegitimate children. I won’t get passed over because my little sister is an alpha, but I can’t pass my inheritance to a bastard.”
“But you want your sister to do the same thing.”
“Do you know how a bastard gets legitimized?” Shi Wudu glares, knowing he doesn’t—because he would never need to worry about it. “When someone acknowledges paternity. So, let’s say I went to a sperm bank, or I let some one-night stand do it—I’d be at the mercy of whoever sired the child. If they didn’t acknowledge paternity, my children would be disinherited.”
His mother died when he was young, before he even presented—
But she suspected.
And she sat him down, warning him of that before he was even old enough for pregnancy to be a concern.
“And even if I could sue for a paternity test, even if I could deed majority of the financial assets to my children in trust, the family estate has to be inherited by a legitimate member of the bloodline, so.”
“Okay, I get your—”
“No,” Shi Wudu’s lips twist bitterly. “Don’t pretend you get my point, you don’t.”
“…Fine, I don’t,” he admits. “You said this was about the family trust. That’s a financial asset. Why not have a kid now, sue for paternity if you have to, and worry about the estate later?”
“…Okay,” Shi Wudu lifts his recently refilled glass, downing the entire thing in three glasses. “If my sister gets someone pregnant, everyone will wince a little bit at the fact that she isn’t married. They’ll wince in public, where people are watching. And in private, they’ll pay her on the back. They’ll say, ‘atta girl, you weren’t even trying, huh?’ Do you know what would happen to me?”
He Xuan almost says that that’s crazy, but—
He had a cousin who got his girlfriend pregnant while they were both in college a few years back, and while his aunt had been furious, his uncle—
He’d still been unhappy, but he’d said something along those lines.
“I come from the kind of family where, if I had been born a couple of centuries back—my children would have been nobles. Or generals. Or members of the imperial household.” He lists coldly. “And just because the monarchy’s gone, does not mean the rules change for people like me. I have a child out of wedlock? I can’t find a mate. I’m damaged goods. I don’t get invited to parties or galas anymore. People don’t want to be associated with me. And the baby—well. The baby would never have the kind of privileges I did, growing up.”
He slides his empty glass away.
“I don’t have time to pick a suitable mate before December.” He says firmly. “And if I let someone fuck me, and they got me pregnant? They’d have two options.”
He looks down at the cracked shells on his plate, wiping his hands before pushing it aside.
“They’ll mate me, marry me, raise the baby with me, and spend the rest of their life attempting to retroactively earn the privilege of being with me.”
Arrogant, but He Xuan finds himself swallowing hard.
“Or?”
“…Or,” Shi Wudu says, his eyes flashing dangerously, “I’ll have them put in an oil drum and dumped a hundred miles off the coast—and after my lawyer fabricates the divorce papers, I’ll play a very convincing grieving widow.”
“…Yeah,” He Xuan finally says, looking down at his plate, forcing himself to take another bite before his meat goes cold. “I can see why Shi Qingxuan having the kid is less complicated.”
Shi Wudu’s smile is saccharine, and irritably beautiful. “I’m glad I was able to make myself clear.”
“But I don’t understand how I am supposed to make that happen.”
“You’re the one who goes clubbing with her, aren’t you?”
“I guess—"
“Tell her to swipe right. Poke holes in her condoms. I don’t care if you and whatever other assholes you hang out around trigger her into a rut—as long as it gets done.”
Charming.
Though, now that he’s explained his rationale, slightly more sympathetic.
“And why would I help you?” He asks, setting his silverware aside. “In case you haven’t noticed—I don’t need your money.”
Shi Wudu clasps his hands, leaning his chin on top of them.
He Xuan isn’t wrong. In fact, when he learned of his sister’s friend’s recent success, that seemed like quite a bit of an obstacle.
After starring in a highly critically acclaimed film—a festival phenomenon—he became the breakout star in the most recent summer blockbuster. Not just capturing the mania of half of the omegas who went and saw the damn thing—which he did—
But his performance was incredible, even Shi Wudu can’t deny that.
He’ll have a career. A big one.
“…It’s new money, though.” He points out. “There’s not money in this country older than mine.” He told his head to the side, and He Xuan watches, jaw tense, as his hair slips across the side of his neck. “Having a blank check from someone like me is about more than cash.”
And really, he should have noticed the way He Xuan’s pupils contracted the moment he heard the words, ‘blank check.’
But he’s always been a sucker for closing a deal.
“…Fine, let’s say I did do this,” he mutters. “How would it work?”
“We would have progress meetings.”
“Progress meetings?”
“To discuss your progress. See if there’s a need to change strategies.”
“…And would you have preferences?”
“On?”
“Your sister’s broodmare,” he says flatly, and—
Shi Wudu let’s out a surprised little laugh, making his stomach twist.
“…Female, I suppose.”
“Is that a hard rule?”
“They have an easier time conceiving outside of heat,” he shrugs. “Since timing is an issue, that would make things easier.”
“…I’ll think about it,” he finally says, pushing back from his seat. “Though getting you pregnant would probably be easier at this point.”
Shi Wudu rolls his eyes, sitting back. As he pulls out his card, offering it to one of the servers before they even bring the check.
“If I find someone that turns out to be marriage material in the next three months, we can call the whole thing off. And don’t keep me waiting too long on an answer.”
“…Yeah,” he mutters, turning away from him. “Fine.”
All in all—while he may have changed—
Shi Wudu hasn’t at all.
The cameras flash once he steps back outside, keeping his head low as he walks back to the car—and the drive home is far more pensive than he thought it would be.
Shi Qingxuan.
Shi Qingxuan with a kid.
Make no mistake—He Xuan has never thought that she deserved unfettered loyalty. Or even honesty.
And when he got this invitation—he was almost certain Shi Wudu had intended to tell him to fuck right off, because he sure as hell didn’t come back into her life with good intentions.
Really, why should he give a shit?
She was fine, letting the friendship go when he was a nobody, but he needed someone—and just as happy to have him back once he’d made something of himself.
Fuck her. He Xuan doesn’t owe her anything.
Still, even if it’s not about owing her, it’s still difficult to imagine why he would…
He wipes one hand down his face as the car pulls into his garage, letting out a slow breath.
He’s not gonna do it.
In fact, he’s going to delete Shi Qingxuan’s number from his phone after all this, and try to forget the Shi family all together.
God knows, it’s time to put that shit behind him.
That’s exactly what he tells himself, walking to the elevator.
He tells himself that during the ride up. When he pulls out the keys to his condo.
(It’s spacious, an upgrade after his gig last fall—and now, a security risk. He’s currently house hunting for something better.)
He’s not even close to changing his mind when he walks into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge. He still takes the cap off with his teeth, even if he can hear his mother nagging about chipping a tooth.
It’s when he goes to toss the lid in the trash that he pauses, staring down at the envelope—sitting at the very top.
He’s leaning against the counter, eyes scanning over those numbers over and over again.
Maths: 99th percentile.
Reading Comprehension: 99th percentile.
Vocabulary: 99th—
“Gege?” A voice comes from down the hall. “When did you get back?”
He looks up, met with the sight of his little sister in the doorway—still in her uniform, even if she’s kicked her shoes aside and loosened her tie.
“…Zhong’er,” he lifts up the envelope, and the moment she sees, she stiffens. “Why didn’t you show me?”
“…” his sister shifts from foot to foot, holding a water bottle between her hands, edges crackling under her grip. “I mean, they’re the same scores as my pretest, I didn’t improve—”
“There was no room for improvement,” he frowns, looking back down at the papers. “And this is the actual Zhongkao, not practice.”
“…Well, yeah,” she agrees, ducking her head.
“…You don’t want to celebrate?” He frowns with confusion. “Not even dinner or something?”
“I…” her voice wobbles, and his stomach dropped. “I don’t wanna sound ungrateful, but I don’t feel up to celebrating, gege.”
He Zhong is—and always has been, generally speaking—easy to look after. Even in a bad situation, she never made things difficult.
And He Xuan, who hasn’t been able to give her the things she deserved, not until so recently, cannot stand to see her cry.
“…What happened?”
“It’s so stupid—”
“Zhong’er.”
She takes a wobbly breath, trying so hard not to look too upset.
“I…um…heard back from Huija,” she says, hands balled into fists at her sides. “I got wait listed.”
And from a school like that—wait listed is only slightly more dignified than outright rejection.
No one turns down an acceptance from Huija. Period.
So, barring someone from the incoming class dropping dead, it’s a no.
“…What?” He tries not to sound upset, he doesn’t want her to think he’s disappointment—but shock colors his tone.
His sister—her grades—
They’re excellent. She’s never gotten less than the top of the curve. Her test scores can’t be beaten. She plays the fucking oboe, not because she likes it, but because it’s a rarer instrument, always making her more likely to place in the regional youth orchestras—
Point being, there’s no reason she shouldn’t have gotten in. They even preemptively moved to this city, because she was so qualified for that school.
“Did you talk to your guidance counselor, or—?”
“She, um…” He Zhong swallows, biting her lip. “She said I couldn’t have done anything differently,” she mumbles, her voice cracking. “It’s just…um…I wouldn’t have fit in.”
He Xuan lowers his beer bottle, eyes narrowing. “…Fit in?”
He Zhong stares at him, her expression hesitant. “…I don’t think I wanna go there anymore anyway,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “There are so many other good schools, if they don’t want me because I’m not from some old family, then I don’t think I want to be there—“
“That’s why?”
“Gege,” she pleads, holding the water bottle so tightly, it crunches between her hands. “Please. I just wanna forget about it.”
“…” He sets his beer down on the counter with a little more force than necessary. “Fine.”
“…Gege, I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “Don’t be angry. It’s—it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have gotten my heart set on—”
She can’t finish that statement before she’s pulled into a crushing hug, her face buried in her older brother’s chest.
“…You didn’t do anything wrong, sweet girl.”
She bites her lip.
“You did everything right.”
Slowly, her shoulders start to tremble—and all he can do is hug her as she cries into the front of his shirt.
Because it’s unfair.
“I worked so hard,” she sobs, her voice muffled. “What’s the point of working so hard?”
He rests his chin on top of her head, and he doesn’t answer. Not because he doesn’t want to, but—
Because there’s nothing he can say.
It occurs to him later though, when she’s sleeping on the couch with her head in his lap, a small pile of discarded tissues beside her, that there’s something he can do.
In his defense, he’s not a complete and immediate sellout.
Not at first.
He’s sitting on the balcony, smoke from his cigarette drifting through the air when the call comes in—and he answers it.
“He-Xiong!” Shi Qingxuan’s voice comes in over the speaker, forced to shout over the music. “You didn’t come out tonight?”
“…No,” he mutters, taking a drag. “Zhong’er got her test scores back. I’ve been busy.”
“Oh, yeah? She’s crazy smart, right? Did you guys celebrate?”
“…Not exactly.”
“…Oh,” Shi Qingxuan’s voice drops, and he can practically imagine her expression falling—followed by the fading sound of the music, like she’s walking outside to hear him better. “Did she bomb? I mean—I always got super anxious during exams, it happens, no matter how prepared you are—”
“No,” he shakes his head, even if she can’t see him. “She doesn’t freak out during tests. She had the best scores in her year.”
“In the entire school?”
“She’s 99th percentile. Nationally.”
“Then what’s the—?”
“Huija waitlisted her.”
“…Oh,” Shi Qingxuan says, her voice suddenly much quieter, and He Xuan—
He hates asking for things, but he grits his teeth.
“Your brother went there, right? The school’s familiar with your family.”
“…Yeah…”
And she has no idea, how hard it is for him to say:
“…Do you think it would make a difference if you called them?”
The beat of silence on the other line is a blow in itself.
“…He-Xiong…” She says, hesitant. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“…You’re a Shi. I’d be shocked if they didn’t have a portrait of your grandfather hanging on the wall somewhere—”
“She’d be really unhappy,” Shi Qingxuan’s voice is so much quieter than usual, and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “She wouldn’t fit in.”
It sounds almost pitying.
“…What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not like that, it’s just—the kids there are mean, He Xuan. You don’t want her around them. They think they’re better than everyone else, they’ve never heard the word no, they’ll eat her alive—”
“You think a few rich kids are more difficult than anything she’s dealt with in public school?”
“Yeah, I do. Hell, I went to public school to get away from—”
“Yeah, well, you had the privilege of doing that, didn’t you?” He snaps, his hand tightening around his phone. “It wouldn’t have mattered if you went to school in a cardboard box, you’d still be rich.”
“…You’re rich now, He-xiong,” she points out. “You could send her to so many private schools, why does it have to be—?”
“She’s known exactly what career she’s wanted since she was nine.” He Xuan says flatly. “And every single person who has taken that path went to Huija. And you’re saying—what, she can’t go because my parents weren’t as good as yours?”
“…I didn’t mean that,” Shi Qingxuan mumbles. “Your parents were amazing. This isn’t about—”
“I just thought you’d want what was best for her,” he mutters, holding his cigarette so tightly, it bends in half between his fingers.
“…I’m sorry it doesn’t sound that way, but I really do want what’s best for her.” Shi Qingxuan mumbles. “That’s why I was trying to explain.”
“You—”
“I have a date waiting on me—I should really get back inside.”
He Xuan stares at his phone, fighting the urge to hurl it off the balcony, and then—
Ring.
Ring.
Click!
“Quick thinker,” Shi Wudu’s voice comes over the line, and he hates how smooth it sounds, even this late. “I like that in a man.”
“Are you still trying to butter me up?”
“If I was trying, this would be a very different conversation.”
He Xuan glades at the clouds overhead, watching as they pass over a full moon.
“…You’re going to get my sister into Huija.” He says.
“If you hold up your end of the—”
“No.” He cuts him off firmly. “You’re getting her in before I even start. Or I’ll start telling your little sister every single scary fucking story about unprotected sex I can find.”
“…Does she have the grades?”
“Yes,” He Xuan sneers. “She has the fucking grades.”
“Email me her application.”
“If you don’t do this, I’m not going to—”
“Oh, I’ll do it,” he says with a confidence that honestly, coming from someone other than an alpha, gives him pause. “I just want to be prepared for how hard I’ll have to sell it.”