The grand ballroom of the gala was a suffocating opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen galaxies overhead, casting a blinding radiance over a sea of shimmering silk, tailored tuxedos, and a clacking movements.
Qixian, however, was currently engaged in a retreat. His pulse thrummed with a restless, chaotic energy typical of a deeply annoyed Omega trying to play the part of an unaffected Alpha. Every nerve in his body was on high alert. He had just found out that his mother and Jin Rou were conspiring with each other, and that sending Yanlan to a factory to save her brother, and Twenty-two minutes had passed, and still... Yanlan still did not text him, so now he decided he needed a distraction.
He squeezed through the tightly packed crowd, his sharp eyes locked onto the lavishly decorated dessert station. Navigating past a group of elderly, diamond-encrusted socialites who were gossiping like hens, Qixian reached the table. With a casualness, he scooped up a beautifully layered strawberry dessert onto a small porcelain plate and snagged a glass of expensive champagne from a passing waiter's tray.
He took a slow, deep breath, trying to steady his heaving chest. He brought the glass to his lips, tilting his head back to take a long, sophisticated sip of the wine.
And then, his eyes locked with someone across the room.
Through the shifting gaps of the dancing crowd, a towering figure in a tailored black suit stood out like a predator in a field of sheep. It was Yichen. The Enigma's sharp silhouettes cut through the sea of floor-length gowns, his silver mask gleaming under the chandelier light. But he wasn't looking at the dance floor anymore. His dark, piercing gaze was locked dead onto Qixian.
The liquid had barely hit the back of Qixian's throat when his brain registered the direct, soul-baring eye contact.
Cough! Qixian instantly gagged, his eyes widening in pure horror. He choked on the wine, his entire body convulsing as he violently tried not to spray a mouthful of expensive champagne directly onto the shining floor. He hacked loudly, clamping a hand over his mouth, his face flushing a deep, betraying crimson as he bent over, coughing breathlessly. It was completely unrefined, utterly embarrassing, and worst of all, it caught Yichen's undivided attention.
Through his blurred, watery vision, Qixian looked up. And oh gosh, Yichen was actually moving towards him. The Enigma had a clearly confused, intensely focused look on his face, his long strides effortlessly closing the distance between them.
Panic, cold and sharp, flooded Qixian's veins. 'No, no, no. Not now!' If Yichen caught him here, dressed as the second son of the Zhou family, the entire house of cards would come crashing down. 'Shit, damn it.'
Qixian didn't think, no, he couldn't think! He just reacted. He immediately made a sharp move to his left, abandoning all sense of high-society etiquette.
"Excuse me! Sorry, excuse me!" Qixian barked out, throwing himself into the crowd.
In his blind haste, he plowed directly into a rather portly, aristocratic man who was currently leaning over the buffet table, meticulously trying to decide which decadent slice of cake to put on his plate. The collision was... catastrophic. Qixian's hand accidentally pushed the man's back with significant force.
The man let out a undignified yelp as he lost his balance, stumbling forward into the table. And what Qixian meant by a successful push, was that the man didn't just fall—he successfully planted his entire face into the dessert display. The man got a massive, multi-layered chocolate cake all over his fancy mask and his face.
Qixian didn't even stop to check the damage. He continued on, practically shoving people out of his way like a madman in a crowded subway. He didn't actually care who he was pushing anymore—CEOs, politicians, heirs—he just kept moving, tossing out a string of breathless, completely insincere "sorry" and "excuse me" remarks as he bartered his way through the sea of silk.
Finally, Qixian reached the safety of a dimly lit, heavily shadowed corner near a decorative pillar. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Panting lightly, he spun around, squeezed his eyes shut for a brief second, and then scanned the glittering crowd.
He looked for what he was running from.
He found him.
Yichen was standing right in the middle of the crowded room, looking completely confused and thoroughly disoriented. The Enigma was turning his head, his sharp eyes scanning the faces of the guests as if frantically looking for someone who had just vanished into thin air. Just then, the wealthy young conglomerate daughter Yichen had been dancing with earlier walked up to him, touching his arm and probably asking him what was wrong.
Yichen paused, his rigid posture relaxing just a fraction. He shook his head, brushing it off. Nothing, he seemed to say.
From his observation post, Qixian could practically read the Enigma's thoughts—Maybe it was just my hallucination—Qixian let out a silent, sharp breath. 'Good. Stay confused, you giant brute.'
Then, Qixian looked down at his hands. He blinked. In his left hand, he was holding an empty crystal glass. In his panic, he had completely forgotten his beloved strawberry cake back at the table. 'Ahhhh!!! My strawberry cake!' He screamed internally. The only thing he had managed to rescue was his wine glass, and well, it didn't even have any more wine in it. Just empty glass.
"Tsch. Annoying, really annoying." Qixian muttered, his lips turning into a deep, frustrated pout.
He flagged down a passing waiter, placing the useless glass onto the silver tray with a quiet click. He looked back toward the path of destruction he had just carved through the ballroom. The aftermath of his frantic run was loud. A ripple of quiet complaints and irritated murmurs was echoing through that section of the crowd.
Through the cluster of complainers, Qixian spotted a pathetic figure standing near the buffet, frantically wiping thick, brown frosting and whipped cream off his eyes and mask.
Qixian's eyebrows twitched. 'Was that my fault?' He paused, considering it for half a second. 'Probably my fault.' He looked at the dessert table wistfully. 'But well... my strawberry dessert was more important so maybe I should still go back and get my strawberry cake over there... they probably won't recognize me, right? It's a huge crowd.' He took a step forward, preparing to brave the frosting-covered danger zone, but his instincts and sharp eyes suddenly picked up a shift in the atmosphere nearby. Through the side door of the service corridor, he saw Jin Rou walking briskly toward the private backrooms, his expression twisted in a dark, ugly snarl.
Curiosity, laced with a sudden surge of dread, flared in Qixian's chest. He abandoned the thought of the cake and stealthily followed his brother into the shadows of the dimly lit hallway.
Qixian pressed his back against the cold stone wall, inching closer to the partially open door of a private holding room. Inside, Jin Rou was pacing like a caged beast, his breathing ragged with absolute fury. An assistant stood trembling before him.
"What do you mean he's gone?!" Jin Rou hissed, his voice cracked with lethal rage. "How could Chengli escape?!"
"Ser... his sister, Yanlan... she somehow found out the exact coordinates of the old garment factory," the assistant whimpered through the call. "She stormed the north basement. The guards... they didn't stand a chance. She took him."
Qixian's heart leaped with pure, unadulterated relief. Yanlan did it. Chengli is safe. But the relief vanished the moment Jin Rou let out a sinister, guttural laugh inside the room. The elder brother stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing into slits of pure malice. "Useless!!"
"Ser, I may have a suggestion, what about... what about that clinic boy?" The assistant on the call stammered.
"Good idea. If that useless secretary escaped, it doesn't matter. We just need a different leverage to keep Qixian compliant before he steps onto that stage."
Jin Rou slammed his fist against a wooden desk. "His little boyfriend. That clinic boy. He's completely unprotected at that small town clinic right now, isn't he? Qixian is stuck here at the gala with Yichen. If I send my men to grab that man now, Qixian will have no choice but to obey my every word."
Outside in the hall, Qixian's breath hitched. His blood turned to absolute ice. Haoran. That was definitely Haoran. His twin brother. His innocent, sweet twin was in danger.
Panic, thick and suffocating, seized Qixian's throat. He needed to act, but his mind was spinning in a chaotic loop of impossible variables. 'I can't leave this building to save Haoran myself,' Qixian realized frantically. 'If I run to the clinic, Haoran will see me, and he'll find out my true identity as a Zhou. Worse, if I disappear right now, my mother and Jin Rou will immediately know I overheard them, and they'll lock this entire place down and announce something fake about me before I can ruin them myself.'
He was trapped. He couldn't leave, and he couldn't stay silent.
Suddenly, the grand doors of the ballroom swung open wider as the orchestra struck a new, resonant chord. The grand announcer's voice boomed over the speakers, echoing into the corridor: "Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the second dance of the evening! Partners, please take the floor for the traditional exchange!"
The second dance. The traditional exchange. A desperate, brilliant plan formed in Qixian's mind.
Qixian slipped out of the backrooms, his face hardening into a mask of pure determination as he strode back into the grand ballroom. The floor was already filling with couples gliding in a synchronized circle. According to the rules of the traditional waltz, pairs would continuously swap partners as the music crested.
Qixian waited for the perfect moment. He tracked the rhythm of the dancers, his eyes locking onto a familiar broad-shouldered figure gracefully spinning through the crowd. Sihan.
As the music swelled and the announcement for the first exchange rang out, Qixian stepped onto the floor with aggressive precision. He cut through a pair of dancers, reached out, and violently pulled Sihan away from his current partner, stepping into the waltz frame with him.
Sihan stumbled, completely caught off guard. When his eyes landed on Qixian's face, his expression contorted into utter, flabbergasted confusion.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" Sihan hissed in a harsh whisper, his feet automatically trying to follow the steps of the dance despite his shock. "Are you insane, Qixian? Do you want Yichen to find out everything right now? He's literally on the other side of the floor!"
Qixian's grip on Sihan's hand was iron-clad, his eyes glowing a fierce, serious red. "There is no damn time for that, Sihan. Listen to me very carefully."
"What—"
"You have to leave the gala right now," Qixian interrupted, his voice low, sharp, and dripping with urgency. "Jin Rou... he's trying to hurt your partner. Haoran is in danger."
Sihan froze for a split second, his brow furrowing in deep skepticism. "What are you talking about? Haoran is completely safe back at the clinic, he's—"
"He's not!" Qixian snapped, using the momentum of the dance to spin them toward the edge of the floor. Qixian pointed his eyes sharply toward the private corridor doors.
Sihan followed his gaze. There, standing near the pillar, was Jin Rou. The elder Zhou brother was wearing a sickening, triumphant smirk, leaning against the wall as he pulled out his phone, clearly preparing to order the hit on the clinic.
Jin Rou began to turn his head, his gaze sweeping toward the dance floor, about to look directly at Sihan and Qixian.
Before Jin Rou's eyes could lock onto them, Qixian executed a brutal pivot. With a powerful shove, Qixian pushed Sihan right out of his line of sight by grabbing a random, unsuspecting high-society partner who was passing by, spinning away into the thickest part of the crowd.
Sihan stood on the edge of the dance floor, his blood running cold as he processed the sheer malice in Jin Rou's smirk. He didn't waste a single second more. Recognizing the lethal stakes, Sihan utilized the chaos of the shifting dancers, ducking behind a heavy velvet drapery.
With perfect stealth, Sihan sneaked out of the gala room, slipping through the side exits and vanishing into the night without a single soul noticing his departure.
Qixian, now trapped in a waltz with a stranger, looked toward the door where Sihan had disappeared. 'Save him, Sihan,' he thought fiercely, his eyes narrowing as he turned his gaze back toward the stage.