Miao Residence
The lingering scent of aged tea and antique sandalwood clung to the heavy drapes of the Miao family study, barely stirred by the spring breeze drifting through the latticed windows. Miao Wenxun, dressed in a traditional slate-grey changshan, stood for a long time before the window, watching nothing.
His recent phone call with Miao Ruiming played again in his mind. The boy had sounded driven—more than he'd heard in years—and even a touch anxious. That patient… Yao Ziyang. Whatever it was about that boy, he had dug his nails into his son's curiosity, into his conscience. Perhaps into his doctor's heart.
Miao Wenxun's brow furrowed.
First Prison, of all places. Of course, it would be a fortress of red tape and inflexible morality. Warden Liu Liang was not known for being "cooperative," and Miao Wenxun had long considered the man's spotless reputation to be just this side of irritating. Still, he had to try. The child—no, his son—was asking for his support, and guilt was a powerful motivator.
With a resolute sigh, he crossed to the large ornate desk, picked up the phone, and began the dance.
With a breath slow and forced, he finally reached for the old rotary telephone set at the far corner of the desk, dialed the general line for First Prison, and leaned back, one finger tapping against the red oak desk.
The line clicked. A robotic voice answered.
"Welcome to First Penitentiary, district intake. If you know the extension of the party you wish to reach—"
He slammed "0" and waited. The silence that followed was filled only by the tick… tick… tick of the carved obsidian clock on the wall behind him.
A few minutes later, a bored-sounding female voice came on the line.
"Yes, First Prison. State your name and reason for the call."
"I am Miao Wenxun, head physician emeritus of the Huaren Medical Foundation. I wish to speak to Warden Liu Liang directly, regarding a special placement for a medical role in your facility."
"Please hold."
A tinny classical melody began to play. Miao Wenxun pinched the bridge of his nose. Mediocrity in public service... no wonder the prison system is bloated and ineffective. Another long pause passed, and then another operator picked up.
"Yes, Miao Wenxun, you've been routed to internal staffing. Warden Liu is extremely busy today. What is your inquiry?"
"I am not making an inquiry. I am making a request that requires the Warden's direct authority."
Miao Wenxun said with the razor-thin patience of a man used to being obeyed.
"One moment while I transfer you."
"I will hold."
More silence.
Five minutes. Ten.
The clock's ticking became thunderous.
Thirty minutes later, Miao Wenxun had been passed to five different departments, each more exasperating than the last. He was forced to listen to three separate loops of hold music, all played on different ancient government phone systems. Just as he was preparing to hang up and throw the phone out the window, a final click rang in his ear.
Finally—a new voice, smooth, deep, and deceptively calm—cut through the static.
"This is Warden Liu Liang speaking. Who is this?"
"Miao Wenxun…"
He replied tightly.
"We met through the charity board a while back. I apologize for disturbing your busy schedule. I'm calling regarding a personal request. My son, Miao Ruiming, has taken interest in the case of one of your inmates—Yao Ziyang—and would like to be assigned as his personal attending physician."
A slow pause followed. The kind that drew itself out deliberately—long enough to let Miao Wenxun feel the weight of asking a man who didn't like being asked for anything.
"Yao Ziyang…"
Warden Liu repeated.
"Yes, I've heard the name. A rather… controversial inmate."
"Be that as it may, my son is convinced his condition is worth studying. I understand these requests are highly unusual, but I believe Dr. Miao's credentials speak for themselves. All I ask is that you consider allowing him access."
Another pause. This time, a faint sigh drifted through the receiver, followed by a thoughtful, almost regretful voice.
"Dr. Miao… Your son is renowned, yes. Brilliant, I hear. But First Prison isn't a charity hospital. Nor a playground for elite research. I must protect the safety and privacy of all inmates… and follow regulations. I'm sure you understand."
Miao Wenxun's eye twitched.
"Naturally. Which is why I am willing to offer generous compensation for the inconvenience. I can provide a donation to the prison medical wing—modern equipment, supplies, whatever is needed."
"Ah… a donation…"
Warden Liu mused, as though the idea had never occurred to him.
"How thoughtful."
"I could also offer some rare ginseng root… forty-year aged, and a cache of cordyceps sinensis, enough to invigorate a dozen men twice our age."
That earned a short, dry chuckle.
"Dr. Miao… such a valuable stash. You'd part with it for a mere assignment?"
"I believe in investing in health. And I trust you value longevity."
There was a faint sound, as though Liu Liang were swirling tea in his mouth before responding.
"You drive a hard bargain, Miao Wenxun. Still, I cannot ignore protocol so easily. Unless... unless your son's placement came with a guaranteed favor—something... life-saving, perhaps."
Miao Wenxun went still.
This was the moment of bloodletting.
"A life-saving favor…"
He echoed.
"To be called in, no questions asked?"
"A single time…"
Liu Liang said smoothly.
"But yes. One favor of that scale. And your... very generous selection of medical herbs. For the sake of future cooperation."
There was a beat. Then another.
Miao Wenxun finally nodded to himself and spoke evenly.
"Very well. I will have the favor sealed and delivered to you directly. And I'll arrange for the tonics to be sent within the week."
"Excellent!"
Liu Liang said, the faintest amusement slipping into his voice.
"How agreeable of you. I will... see what I can do. Discreetly, of course."
Miao Wenxun's back straightened.
"So the matter is settled? My son will be granted access?"
"Unofficially, yes. He may begin observing the patient. But…"
Liu Liang added, his tone darkening just enough to sound sincere.
"Do keep in mind... that particular inmate is under the attention of a very powerful figure. If your son causes trouble—however unintentionally—I won't be able to protect him."
"Noted."
Miao Wenxun replied.
"My son is a doctor, not some hooligan."
"Let's hope he stays that way."
Click.
The line went dead.
The moment the call with Warden Liu Liang ended, Miao Wenxun pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes and sank further into the carved sandalwood chair. He'd done what he needed to. The favor was steep. The cost of the herbs even steeper. But Miao Ruiming would now have the chance he wanted.
…Unknowingly, he had placed his son directly on a path into Dong Yingming's domain—into the orbit of a rare and beautiful boy whose very existence had begun to upend everyone who came close's fate.
The effort, the herbs, the sealed favor—it would take years to replenish what he'd given up in a single phone call. And for what? His brilliant, stubborn youngest son chasing after a scandal-stained convict?
Still, the fire in Miao Ruiming's voice earlier had stirred something long dormant in Miao Wenxun's chest. That rare, desperate note in his tone—the sound of someone moved by something beyond logic—had echoed inside his heart. A true doctor's instinct, perhaps.
He picked up the phone again and dialed.
It only rang once before Miao Ruiming answered, breath short.
"Father?"
"I spoke with Warden Liu. Your request was... granted."
He paused meaningfully.
"But don't ask me for anything more, Xiao Ruiming. I gave up a whole shelf of herbs that haven't been touched in years. And…"
He exhaled.
"A life-saving favor."
There was a moment of stunned silence, and then—
"Thank you, Father."
Miao Ruiming's voice was low and sincere, stripped of his usual pride.
"Really, thank you. I mean it."
Miao Wenxun's expression softened, faintly pleased by the sincerity.
"It's what I should do… as your father."
He paused.
"But before you go running off—Xiao Ruiming, I have to ask again. Are you sure about this? You want to stake your name, your time, and now my resources to treat Yao Ziyang? An embezzler? A liar? A man's lover?"
That was the wrong thing to say.
"I told you not to call him that!"
Miao Ruiming snapped.
Even he sounded startled by the sharpness in his own tone. Both ends of the line fell into stunned silence.
"…I'm sorry…"
He muttered after a beat, exhaling hard
"That was out of line. I apologize."
"No…"
Miao Wenxun said slowly, testing the waters of his son's new intensity.
"It wasn't. Which is why I need to ask again: are you certain? That you want to be the one to treat him?"
There was no hesitation this time.
"Not want to, I have to, but… yes. I'm sure. I have to be the one to figure out what's happening to him. I need to figure out what he is. What's happening to him. No one else can. It's not just illness. It's something… I don't even know how to describe it yet. But I can't stop thinking about it. Or about him."
Miao Wenxun absorbed the conviction in his youngest son's voice. He leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly.
"Then… let your brothers help."
That caught Miao Ruiming off guard.
"What?"
"I also want to see a copy of his health records. All of them. Send what you've gathered so far to me—I'll forward it to Xiao Yuanming and Xiao Ruoshan. They may be your elder brothers specializing in different medical fields, but they're not fools. If this boy's case is truly beyond classification, you'll need as many sharp minds as you can muster. Perhaps between the three of you, you'll be able to identify what you're dealing with."
Miao Ruiming hesitated.
"I'm not sure if I want them involved…"
"Xiao Ruiming…"
His father said firmly.
"You're a genius. But even the best can miss what others see. The faster you find answers, the faster this Yao Ziyang of yours recovers."
Miao Ruiming's jaw tightened. He didn't want more eyes on Yao Ziyang. But he wasn't stupid. If it was truly for Yao Ziyang's health… then he had to put aside his selfishness.That, at least, made logical sense.
'Still…'
After a reluctant moment, Miao Ruiming sighed.
"…Fine…"
He muttered.
"...Fine. I'll send you what I have now. But they're not to interfere directly."
"Of course."
Miao Wenxun smiled faintly.
"You're the lead. You're the one who broke through the stagnation of traditional diagnostics. Don't forget that."
Miao Ruiming said nothing for a moment. He thumbed through the files on his phone, selected the folder marked YZ\_Patient\_01, and hit "send", then the whoosh of a sent file echoed on Miao Wenxun's screen.
Once the transfer notification appeared, he added softly.
"There. I've sent everything I've collected so far. Blood panels, brain scans, scent analysis logs—"
"Scent analysis?"
"It's… never mind. I'll explain later."
Miao Wenxun grunted.
"Very well. I'll let you go. You've got a long day ahead."
"Thank you again."
Miao Ruiming said, voice quieter now.
"For everything."
Miao Wenxun gave a noncommittal grunt, but Miao Ruiming could hear the softened edge in his tone.
"Take care of yourself. Don't let that blackmailing brat drag you into something you can't escape."
"I won't…"
Miao Ruiming said quickly—then paused.
"Probably."
Then the line went dead.
The streets blurred past the window as Miao Ruiming's car sped along the highway. His fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel as he played through the morning's conversation in his mind.
Yao Ziyang.
He'd seen many beautiful people in his time. Dignified nobles, actors with artful features, medical prodigies with sharp eyes and perfect posture. But nothing compared to the dreamlike creature resting in that hospital bed. That boy who had once been a disgraced corporate vice president… now transformed into someone ethereal and unknowably different.
And that scent. That heat. He could still feel the whisper of it against the inside of his skull.
'What are you?'
Miao Ruiming's heart gave a strange flutter, which he shoved down immediately.
"…I have to be the one to figure it out…"
He whispered aloud to himself.
"Not for glory. Not for Father. For you."
He blinked, surprised by his own confession, then scowled lightly and reached for his phone again.
'I have to get to First Prison before he arrives. I want him to see my face when he walks in. I want to see him smile.'
The image of Yao Ziyang's eyes—like pools of ink wrapped in moonlight—rose to the surface of his mind. That radiant smile. That soft voice. The mystery behind his very existence.
He found himself smiling like a fool.
Then his stomach growled faintly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since early morning. Checking the car's clock, it was nearly lunch time. He frowned—
'Yao Ziyang probably hasn't eaten either.'
There was a store just off the exit. He'd stop there.
He remembered the way Yao Ziyang's entire face lit up at the sight of pudding—the way his crescent eyes curved and that radiant smile spread like sunlight.
"…I'll get five…"
He murmured.
A pause.
"No—ten."
And with that, Miao Ruiming turned off at the exit and headed for the store, determined to arrive at First Prison before Yao Ziyang did—milk pudding and answers in hand.
Minutes later, he walked out of the shop, arms full of small white paper bags tied with golden ribbons—milk pudding, neatly boxed and cooled.
One corner of his mouth lifted.
'Let's see if he still smiles at me like that again.'
And with a new spring in his step, Miao Ruiming slid back into his car, headed for the gates of First Prison—a prison that, unbeknownst to him, had already become the stage of something extraordinary.
…
The ticking of a lacquered wall clock was the only sound in Warden Liu Liang's Office as the older man leaned back in his leather chair, puffing on a fine cigar that had cost nearly half a week's salary. His fingers tapped his polished desk while his narrowed eyes watched the flickering screen of a secure terminal.
After a long morning of schmoozing his way through Miao Wenxun's careful negotiations, he eventually decided to send the formal confirmation.
The official confirmation document was finally signed: Miao Ruiming, youngest son of the Miao family and prestigious physician, was now formally cleared to serve as on-site medical consultant for Yao Ziyang—at least under medical necessity.
Liu Liang smirked, savoring the memory of Miao Wenxun's voice cracking as he listed the last of his medicinal offerings.
"Old fox finally caved."
He muttered to himself, puffing out a curl of smoke. With a practiced hand and a lazy grin curling the corner of his lips, he pulled out his encrypted phone and recorded a brief voice message.
"Chang Xiao…"
He said when the line connected.
"Just received word from the top. Inform your boss—Miao Ruiming has officially been approved as on-site medical staff for prisoner Yao Ziyang. His application is sealed, clean, and will pass any audit. He'll be allowed to visit and monitor Yao Ziyang's health on a scheduled basis. He's to be briefed on protocol by end of day. That's all."
He didn't bother waiting for a response before putting the phone away. He sent the voice message and returned to his cigar. The satisfied clink of glass echoed as he poured himself a cup of aged whiskey.
Meanwhile, miles away but slowly making their approach, Warden Liu's message reaches inside the sleek black car.
Chang Xiao's phone buzzed in the cupholder beside the steering wheel, the screen lighting up with a notification from Warden Liu.
1 New Voice Message from: Warden Liu
But Chang Xiao dared not look. His hands were steady on the wheel, his back was ramrod straight, and his eyes flicked nervously between the road and the rearview mirror.
Behind him sat the two most precious and dangerous passengers he'd ever had.
Chang Xiao's lips tightened, and he didn't move to play it. Now's not the time. Not with the boss sitting beside Yao Ziyang, practically vibrating with protective tension.
The slightest jolt, the tiniest swerve—he'd be done for.
The sleek black reinforced car glided down the smooth asphalt with quiet precision. Not a single jolt. Not a bump.
In the backseat, Yao Ziyang leaned his cheek against Dong Yingming's sturdy shoulder, his platinum-blond hair glimmering slightly in the light, his inky black eyes half-lidded with contentment. A gentle breeze filtered through the small vent above, and a sleepy smile tugged at his lips.
"…The ride is so smooth."
He murmured, eyes still on the passing city.
Dong Yingming, sitting protectively beside him, turned his head to glance at him.
"You like it?"
The Omega nodded faintly.
"Mhm. It's nice."
A smile, rare and subtle, curved across Dong Yingming's face as he turned toward the front.
"Good job, Chang Xiao."
In the driver's seat, Chang Xiao blinked—startled.
"…Yes, Boss. Thank you."
"You want to stop anywhere?"
Dong Yingming asked, his tone far gentler than any Chang Xiao had ever heard.
"Do you want to go anywhere? Anywhere at all? I'll take you. We're outside for once."
Yao Ziyang let out a soft hum and shook his head.
"No, I'm a little tired. I just want to go back to lay on our bed."
It was a small sentence—but it struck something deep in Dong Yingming's chest. The single word—our—hit him like a heartbeat echoing in his ears. His smile deepened.
Our bed.
He glanced at the delicate man again, his caramel-colored skin catching the light as his blue eyes softened.
"Mm…"
He responded quietly, but firmly. His voice low with restrained fondness.
"Chang Xiao, step on it. But still—be careful."
Chang Xiao nearly choked on his own breath.
"Yes, Boss."
Chang Xiao replied with utmost sincerity, as if the car were carrying royal blood.
He flicked his eyes back to the unread message on his phone and winced.
'I'll read it once we're parked.'
No way he was risking even the slightest bump with Dong Yingming watching his every move like a hawk—and the dazzling man relaxing blissfully behind him.
In the back, the car grew quiet again.
Yao Ziyang leaned a little closer towards Dong Yingming, resting his whole body against his sturdy frame. He gazed absent-mindedly out the window. The scenery blurred past in a ribbon of green and pale blue.
Outside, the world looked ordinary. Inside the car, it felt like something sacred. Yao Ziyang let his gaze drift back to the man he's claimed as his Alpha. His heart felt warm. Soft. Content. The man was doting on him, attentive to his every little movement, even watching him breathe with careful eyes.
'How nice it is…'
He thought.
'To be spoiled by the man I love. So this is what it feels like to be with someone terrifying, someone kind, someone just perfect for me.'
But he said nothing. He didn't need to.
Dong Yingming adjusted the soft blanket that had slipped from Yao Ziyang's lap and tucked it more securely around his legs.
"Comfortable?"
He asked quietly.
"Mhm."
Yao Ziyang hummed.
Dong Yingming glanced down at the blanket that covered Yao Ziyang's lap and subtly adjusted it again, making sure the hem reached just under his knees.
He didn't speak anymore. He simply leaned back, one hand resting lightly on his man's leg, thumb stroking gently.
They drove in silence, the outside world muted, their cocoon sealed in warmth and quiet devotion.
And all the while, Chang's hands gripped the wheel a little tighter, sweat beading at his brow as he prayed nothing—absolutely nothing—disrupted this peace before they reached First Prison.