Archive of Our Own

Sheng Shaoyou, for once, wasn’t rushing to a meeting or glaring at a laptop screen. He stood on the sidewalk outside a small tea shop, a paper cup in one hand, while the other carefully steadied the tiny figure crouched at his side.

“Gentle,” Sheng murmured, his voice softer than Hua Yong had ever heard it.

Their child—round cheeks, bright eyes, no more than a year old—was reaching out with tiny fingers toward a stray cat curled in a patch of sun.

The cat blinked slowly, unimpressed but tolerant, and Sheng guided Peanut’s small hand with surprising patience.

“Soft strokes, not grabbing,” Sheng instructed. Peanut giggled, patting awkwardly, the sound like bells in Hua Yong’s chest.

Hua Yong leaned against a lamppost a few steps away, dark suit immaculate despite the casual setting, eyes fixed on them with the kind of intensity that made strangers glance away nervously. But he wasn’t watching the street.

His entire world was framed in that moment—Sheng’s proud, careful hand, Peanut’s delighted squeals, the ordinary miracle of them together.

Mine, Hua Yong thought with an ache that never left him. They’re mine.

Then The shift in atmosphere was so subtle at first that only Hua Yong noticed. A vibration in the ground. A groan of metal. His gaze flicked past them to the construction site across the street.

A crane loomed above the half-built building, its arm carrying a massive load of steel beams suspended by thick cables. Workers shouted instructions in the distance, too far to notice the subtle jerk of machinery. Hua Yong’s spine went rigid.

Then—snap.

The cable shrieked like a dying animal. The entire load swayed violently, tilting, momentum pulling it sideways.

Hua Yong’s blood ran cold.

The beams swung out of alignment—straight toward the sidewalk where Sheng and Peanut knelt, oblivious.

There was no thought, no hesitation. Hua Yong’s body moved faster than instinct, power flaring in his veins. His Enigma ability burned hot, the air distorting as space folded under his will. One blink, and he was across the distance.

“Shaoyou!” His voice cracked through the air like thunder.

Sheng looked up, startled, eyes widening just as Hua Yong materialized in front of him.

The shadow of falling metal darkened the ground.

Hua Yong shoved forward, arms wrapping around Sheng and Peanut, forcing them back with the strength of desperation.

The distortion of teleportation shivered again, space bending—he tried to take them with him, to port them all out—but the weight, the speed, the sheer mass crashing down—

Too late.

The last thing Hua Yong saw was Sheng’s terrified face, Peanut’s high-pitched cry—before the world slammed into him.

The sound was deafening. Steel against pavement. A roar of chaos as the load crashed, scattering sparks, dust rising in choking clouds. The ground trembled beneath the force.

Sheng stumbled back, clutching Peanut tight against his chest, his ears ringing. His knees hit concrete, but he barely noticed. His eyes were locked on the spot where Hua Yong had stood—now buried under a mountain of twisted, groaning beams.

“No—” The word tore out of him, raw and broken.

He lunged forward, still clutching Peanut, who screamed in his arms, face red, small hands gripping Sheng’s shirt with desperate force.

“Hua Yong!” Sheng’s voice cracked as he staggered toward the wreckage. Dust stung his eyes, tears mixing with grit. “Hua Yong!”

He dropped to his knees beside the twisted mass of steel, setting Peanut down just within reach but shielding the child instinctively with one arm.

His other hand clawed at the metal, nails scraping, palms tearing as he tried to lift beams that weighed tons. His muscles screamed in protest.

“Help! Somebody help!” Sheng shouted hoarsely, voice ripping from his throat. But the construction workers were too far, the street too wide, the panic too slow to reach them.

So he kept pulling, kept shoving, his body straining until veins stood out in his arms and his vision blurred with tears.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Hua Yong!” Sheng yelled, voice breaking. His forehead pressed against cold metal for a moment as he sobbed, then he forced himself back up, hands blistering as he shoved again.

Behind him, Peanut wailed louder, tiny body trembling with fear. Sheng’s chest constricted at the sound, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

“You bastard,” he gasped, choking on tears. “You said—you said you’d always be here. You said nothing could touch you. Don’t you dare leave us!”

Through the choking dust, a faint sound answered—a muffled cough.

Sheng’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Hua Yong?!” He shoved another beam aside, scraping his knuckles raw. “Hua Yong!”

A groan came from beneath, ragged and weak, but alive. “...Shaoyou.”

The relief that flooded Sheng nearly shattered him. Tears streamed down his face as he clawed at the metal with renewed fury. “I’m here! I’m right here! Hold on, damn you, hold on—!”

He fumbled his phone out of his pocket with shaking hands, dialing emergency services, voice cracking as he shouted their location. His other hand never stopped pulling at the wreckage, skin splitting, blood streaking silver steel.

Peanut sobbed behind him, the sound tearing through him like knives. Sheng turned his head briefly, his own tears falling harder at the sight of their child reaching out, tiny hands desperate.

“It’s okay,” Sheng choked out, forcing his voice steady for Peanut’s sake. “It’s okay, Peanut. Daddy’s going to get him out. Daddy’s going to—” His words broke. He pressed his forehead against the beam again, shoulders shaking.

“Mr. Sheng,” Hua Yong’s voice rasped faintly, from somewhere deep under the wreckage. “Don’t… cry.”

“Shut up!” Sheng sobbed, slamming his palm against the steel. “Don’t you dare tell me not to cry when you’re under there! Just—just hang on! Please!”

His strength gave out finally, his arms buckling, hands raw and bleeding. He collapsed to his knees, gathering Peanut against him again, both of them crying into each other. Sheng’s body shook with silent, furious sobs, his tears dampening Peanut’s hair.

“I can’t lose him,” he whispered, rocking their child as though the motion would keep the world from collapsing entirely.

“I can’t—I can’t do this without him. Peanut can’t grow up without him. Hua Yong, you stupid, arrogant bastard… you promised.”

At last, faint but growing louder, the wail of sirens split the air. Sheng lifted his head, eyes swollen, dust streaking his cheeks. Workers ran toward them, voices shouting, hands grabbing tools, moving steel with practiced urgency.

Shaoyou refused to move from the wreckage, even as they told him to step back. His hand stayed pressed to the cold metal, as if willing his strength through it.

“Stay with me,” he whispered fiercely.

“Stay with us. Peanut needs you. I need you. Don’t you dare let go.”

And under the weight of steel, Hua Yong coughed again, voice hoarse but stubborn.

“I won’t,” he rasped. “Not… while you’re here.”

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and fear. White walls, bright lights, voices echoing in the long corridor—Sheng Shaoyou barely registered any of it. His world had shrunk to the small bundle in his arms, a child trembling with sobs that shook his tiny chest.

Peanut’s cheeks were wet, his fists clutching at Shaoyou’s shirt with frantic desperation. “Daddy—! Daddy!”

The word broke into wails again, high-pitched and raw, the sound cutting straight through Shaoyou’s chest like knives.

“I know,” Shaoyou whispered, his own voice breaking. He rocked the boy gently, his body swaying instinctively, trying to soothe even as his own tears burned unshed in his eyes. “I know, Peanut. Daddy will be okay. He will. He has to be.”

He pressed his lips against the child’s hair, holding him tighter, as though his arms could shield Peanut from the terrible image still etched in Shaoyou’s mind—Hua Yong disappearing beneath a mountain of steel, dust rising, the echo of his cough.

“Daddy’s strong,” he whispered, even as his throat closed. “Daddy promised. Daddy never breaks promises.”

Peanut wailed louder, his small body arching in distress. Shaoyou bit the inside of his cheek until the copper taste of blood filled his mouth. He would not cry. He could not let Peanut see him break.

The sound of hurried footsteps snapped him out of his haze. Wenlang burst into the corridor, Gao Tu right behind him, both out of breath from running.

“How is he?!” Wenlang barked the moment he saw Shaoyou, his sharp eyes scanning the scene—the child’s tears, Shaoyou’s white-knuckled grip, the closed doors of the operating theater.

Shaoyou didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on Peanut as he continued rocking him, whispering promises he barely believed himself. His silence was louder than any words.

Wenlang cursed under his breath, fists clenching, pacing like a caged animal. He looked ready to punch a hole in the wall.

Beside him, Gao Tu’s expression softened. Without a word, he stepped closer, kneeling slightly so he was level with Peanut. His scent shifted, a gentle wave of calming omega pheromones filling the sterile air.

It was warm, soothing, like the quiet hush of a lullaby. The effect was immediate—Peanut’s cries weakened, his hiccups sharp but less frantic. His small fists loosened, clutching Shaoyou’s shirt more loosely.

“There, little one,” Gao Tu murmured softly, adjusting his glasses with one hand while the other gently stroked Peanut’s back. “It’s all right. Daddy will come back. He’s strong. You can rest.”

Shaoyou’s eyes glistened. He met Gao Tu’s gaze briefly, lips parting as if to thank him, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he lowered his face, pressing another kiss to Peanut’s hair, inhaling the familiar baby scent mingled now with Gao Tu’s pheromones.

Time became a cruel, unbending thing. Minutes stretched into eternities.

Shaoyou sat slumped against the cold wall outside the operating theater, Peanut cradled against his chest.

The boy had finally stopped wailing, reduced to soft hiccups and broken murmurs of “Daddy… Daddy…” between restless dozes.

Shaoyou’s arms ached, his back stiff, but he refused to shift. His entire being was focused on the rhythm of Peanut’s breathing, on keeping his son’s fragile heart steady when his own felt like it was tearing apart.

Wenlang sat a few steps away, elbows on his knees, head bowed. His usual smirk was gone, replaced with a grim silence. He glanced up occasionally, eyes flicking to Shaoyou, then back to the floor.

Gao Tu stayed close, his pheromones subtle but steady, a constant undercurrent that kept the child calm.

Every so often, he checked Shaoyou’s pale face too, but Shaoyou’s expression remained unreadable, locked tight against the storm raging inside.

The red light above the operating theater door glowed mercilessly. Closed. Silent. Unyielding.

At one point, Peanut stirred again, whimpering in his sleep. “Daddy… where’s Daddy…” His small voice was so plaintive, so trusting, that Shaoyou’s chest cracked open.

He pressed his forehead against Peanut’s soft hair, his shoulders shaking silently. A tear slipped free at last, falling onto Peanut’s cheek. Shaoyou quickly brushed it away with trembling fingers.

“Daddy’s okay,” he whispered fiercely, as if sheer will could make it true. “Daddy’s going to walk out of there. He promised us. He—he doesn’t get to break promises. Not now. Not ever.”

Peanut whimpered again, snuggling closer. Shaoyou kissed his forehead, rocking him slowly, every movement a battle against his own collapsing heart.

Wenlang looked up, jaw tightening at the sight, but he said nothing. He didn’t dare.

The light above the theater finally clicked off. A mechanical hiss broke the silence, and the double doors swung open.

Shaoyou was on his feet instantly, Peanut clutched protectively in his arms. His eyes locked onto the figure emerging—the surgeon, mask lowered, expression composed but faintly stunned.

For a heartbeat, no one breathed.

The surgeon removed his gloves, glancing between them. “Mr. Hua is fine.”

The words struck like lightning.

“He’s stable. The injuries looked critical at first, but… his body—his cells—repaired faster than we’ve ever seen. Likely due to his Enigma physiology. It’s remarkable.”

Shaoyou swayed where he stood, his knees nearly giving out. Relief crashed through him so violently it was almost pain. His grip on Peanut tightened as he buried his face in his child’s hair, a sob tearing free before he could stop it.

Peanut stirred, eyes fluttering open. “Daddy?”

Shaoyou kissed his temple, tears wetting the boy’s skin. “Daddy’s okay, Peanut,” he whispered, voice trembling but filled with more certainty than ever before. “Daddy’s okay. He’s coming back to us.”

Behind him, Wenlang exhaled harshly, running a hand over his face. “Damn bastard scared the hell out of us.” His voice cracked despite the gruffness.

Gao Tu adjusted his glasses, his relief quiet but visible in the gentle set of his shoulders. His pheromones eased further, like a soft exhale through the corridor.

Shaoyou pushed the door open with his shoulder, Peanut tucked firmly against his chest. The child had been quiet in the hallway, lulled by Gao Tu’s pheromones, but the second he spotted the figure on the bed, his tiny body trembled.

“D-Daddy!” Peanut’s cry rang out, breaking the sterile quiet of the hospital room.

Hua Yong stirred, pale but conscious, eyes heavy-lidded yet sharp the moment they fell on his family. His chest rose slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the bandages wrapping his torso.

“Peanut,” Hua Yong rasped, his voice rough but warm. “Come here.”

Peanut wriggled in Shaoyou’s hold, reaching desperately toward the bed. Shaoyou’s arms tightened instinctively.

“You’re still hooked up to tubes and needles,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Hua Yong extended a hand, fingers trembling slightly but steady in intent.

“Let him.”

Shaoyou glared, but Peanut’s wet eyes made the decision for him. With a sigh that was more like a growl, he carefully laid Peanut down beside Hua Yong, adjusting the sheets so the boy wouldn’t snag on the IV line.

Peanut immediately curled against his father’s chest, tiny fingers clutching the hospital gown as though he’d never let go again. His cries softened into hiccups, cheek pressed against the steady rhythm of Hua Yong’s heartbeat.

Hua Yong’s eyes softened unbearably. He lifted his arm, despite the ache, and draped it gently around Peanut, holding him close. “There,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the child’s hair.

“Daddy’s right here. Daddy’s not going anywhere.”

Shaoyou stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He refused to sit. Refused to let Hua Yong see the storm inside him.

“You’re an idiot,” he snapped, voice low but sharp. “Throwing yourself under a pile of metal like some… some reckless brute. You think you’re invincible just because you’re an Enigma? You think you can scare the hell out of me and then just lie there smiling like nothing happened?”

Peanut stirred at the harsh tone, and Shaoyou immediately leaned down, covering the boy’s small ears with his palms. His voice cracked into a hiss meant only for Hua Yong. “You stupid, arrogant bastard.”

Hua Yong’s smile deepened, soft and maddening. “You were worried.”

Shaoyou’s glare could have killed. “Of course I was worried! You almost—” His words cut off, his throat tight. He swallowed, forcing himself to straighten.

“Forget it.”

Hua Yong’s hand stroked Peanut’s hair gently, but his gaze never left Shaoyou. Even bandaged, pale, his every movement screamed of devotion.

“You carried me out of there, didn’t you?” he asked quietly.

Shaoyou scoffed. “Carried you? I nearly broke my back trying to move steel beams by hand because you decided to play hero.”

“Then I’m grateful,” Hua Yong murmured. “Even if I’d been crushed completely, I know you wouldn’t have left me behind.”

Shaoyou’s chest burned. He turned his head away, cursing under his breath. “Don’t you dare say things like that in front of Peanut.”

“I’m not saying them for Peanut,” Hua Yong whispered. “I’m saying them for you.”

Shaoyou’s fists clenched. His lips pressed thin, fighting the urge to snap, to cry, to collapse.

Peanut shifted again, rubbing his eyes, whimpering softly. “Daddy hurt?”

“No, Peanut,” Hua Yong said immediately, his voice gentle. “Daddy’s fine. Daddy’s just tired.” He kissed the boy’s forehead, ignoring the way his own ribs protested the movement. “See? I’m right here.”

Peanut’s tears slowed, but his tiny body clung tighter, as though he feared letting go would make his father disappear again.

Shaoyou moved closer without realizing it, adjusting the blanket over both of them, his touch careful, betraying his worry despite the scowl etched into his face.

“You better heal fast,” he muttered, covering Peanut’s ears again before adding more viciously, “because I swear I’ll kill you myself if you ever pull something this stupid again.”

Hua Yong’s laugh was quiet, broken by a wince of pain, but still warm. “As long as it means you’ll keep me, I don’t mind.”

“Shut up,” Shaoyou snapped instantly, cheeks burning.

Minutes stretched into silence, broken only by Peanut’s soft hiccups and the steady beeping of the monitor. Shaoyou finally sank into the chair by the bed, burying his face briefly in his hands before dragging them down and glaring again.

“You scared Peanut half to death,” he muttered. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to watch him cry for you? To hold him while he screamed your name? Do you know what that felt like?”

Hua Yong’s eyes softened. “Tell me.”

Shaoyou froze, then snapped, “Why would I—? You already know!”

“I want to hear it from you,” Hua Yong said simply. “Because it means I mattered enough to hurt you.”

Shaoyou’s throat closed. He swore viciously again, one hand flying up to cover Peanut’s ears automatically. His eyes burned with tears he refused to shed. “You already know you matter, idiot.”

Hua Yong’s lips curved faintly. He reached his free hand toward Shaoyou, fingers trembling. “Come here.”

“I’m not your dog,” Shaoyou muttered, but after a long pause, he reached out anyway, letting Hua Yong’s hand curl weakly around his.

Meanwhile,Peanut, lulled by his father’s steady heartbeat and Gao Tu’s lingering pheromones in the air, finally drifted into exhausted sleep. His small body rose and fell with soft breaths, cheek pressed against Hua Yong’s chest.

“You’re reckless. You’re unbearable. You’re…” Shaoyou voice cracked, low enough not to wake Peanut. “…You’re mine. So stop scaring us like this.”

Hua Yong’s smile softened, his thumb brushing over Shaoyou’s knuckles. “I’ll stop when I stop breathing.”

Shaoyou swore again, covering Peanut’s ears fiercely, but his own tears finally fell, silent and unstoppable.

Hua Yong, whipped beyond reason even in pain, reached up with trembling fingers and brushed them away. “You’re beautiful when you cry,” he murmured.

Shaoyou slapped his hand down gently but didn’t let go. “You’re insufferable.”

But he stayed there, holding Hua Yong’s hand, rocking Peanut with his other arm, eyes locked on the man who’d nearly been lost.

And in that fragile silence, with Peanut safe between them, all the fury, love, and fear wove into a single unspoken truth—they were still together.

The room was quiet now, the earlier chaos having faded into the slow rhythm of monitors and the muted hum of the air conditioner.

Hua Yong lay back against the pillows, his arm carefully curved around the small, sleeping Peanut beside him. His body ached in every possible way, but his mind… his mind was alight with something almost sinful.

Because Sheng Shaoyou, the impossible, prideful, sharp-tongued man he loved, was fussing over him.

And it was glorious.

“Don’t move too much,” Shaoyou snapped, adjusting the blanket over Hua Yong’s legs for the fifth time. “You’ll tear the stitches.”

“I’m just breathing,” Hua Yong replied mildly, his lips twitching into a small smile.

“Then breathe quieter!”

Hua Yong’s smile widened. “If you’re worried about me, you could just say so.”

Shaoyou froze mid-motion, ears instantly burning red. “I am not worried about you. I’m worried about Peanut waking up if you jostle him.”

“Mm,” Hua Yong hummed, clearly unconvinced. His gaze slid lazily over Shaoyou’s face, drinking in the redness of his ears, the way his lips pressed into a thin, furious line. He looked like a cat forced into a bath. Beautiful. Irritated. Helpless.

Hua Yong thought he might die of happiness before the stitches could kill him.

“Mr. Sheng,” Hua Yong said softly, drawing the name out like a caress.

“What now?”

“You look handsome when you’re angry.”

Shaoyou nearly dropped the water glass he was setting on the table. “Shut up.”

“You’re even more handsome when you’re pretending not to care.”

“Shut up, Hua Yong!”

“And most handsome of all,” Hua Yong whispered, leaning just enough to make Shaoyou flinch, “when your ears turn red for me.”

Shaoyou’s hands flew to his ears instantly, as if to cover them. “Stop looking at me like that! You’re supposed to be recovering!”

“I’m recovering faster because you’re here,” Hua Yong replied smoothly.

Shaoyou’s hands clenched into fists. He looked like he wanted to hurl the water glass at Hua Yong’s head. “You sick, insufferable bastard.”

“Your sick, insufferable bastard,” Hua Yong corrected, eyes shining.

Shaoyou made a strangled noise, somewhere between a growl and a groan, and turned away so Hua Yong wouldn’t see the deeper flush creeping down his neck.

When Peanut stirred beside Hua Yong, Shaoyou leaned over immediately, fussing with the blanket again, smoothing the baby’s hair. Hua Yong used the opportunity mercilessly.

“You’ll be a wonderful mother,” he said softly.

Shaoyou froze, then slowly turned his head, eyes blazing. “Say that again, and I’ll smother you with this pillow.”

Hua Yong chuckled low in his throat. “You’ll be a wonderful parent, then. Our Peanut is lucky.”

Shaoyou’s ears turned scarlet, but he bent lower over Peanut, muttering, “Stop calling him Peanut. It’s not even a proper name.”

“It’s perfect,” Hua Yong countered, voice warm. “Small, precious, mine.”

“Yours?” Shaoyou barked, covering Peanut’s ears instinctively. “He’s ours, you delusional maniac!”

Hua Yong’s smile softened. “Yes. Ours. That’s even better.”

Shaoyou groaned, tugging at his own hair. “I can’t stand you.”

Hua Yong reached out weakly, brushing his fingertips over Shaoyou’s wrist. “But you love me.”

“Shut up!”

The door banged open, startling all three. Wenlang strode in, his coat slung carelessly over his arm, Gao Tu trailing behind with his usual calm.

“Well,” Wenlang drawled, taking in the scene-Hua Yong lounging with Peanut curled against his chest, Shaoyou standing stiffly nearby with bright red ears. “Looks like someone’s enjoying himself.”

Shaoyou straightened, pointing an accusing finger at Hua Yong. “He won’t shut up!”

Hua Yong blinked innocently. “I’m only telling the truth.”

“The truth?” Wenlang snorted. “The truth is you’re enjoying being half-dead because it means Shaoyou fusses over you.” He crossed his arms, smirking.

“You’re a sick bastard.”

Hua Yong’s lips curved lazily. “The happiest sick bastard alive.”

Shaoyou’s face went crimson. “Don’t say things like that in front of them!”

Wenlang barked out a laugh. “Oh, please, Shaoyou. The whole hospital probably heard him already.”

Gao Tu adjusted his glasses, stepping closer to check Hua Yong’s IV line. “At least Mr.Hua is stable. Though perhaps less talking and more resting would be advisable.”

“I’ll rest,” Hua Yong said smoothly, “as long as Shaoyou stays close.”

“God, shut up,” Shaoyou muttered, covering Peanut’s ears again and glaring at Wenlang as if daring him to laugh.

Wenlang did anyway.

After a few more checks, Doctor declared Hua Yong’s vitals strong, his Enigma healing kicking in remarkably well. Wenlang stretched, yawning.

“All right. Gao Tu, let’s get out of here before I choke on the sugar in this room.”

“Finally,” Shaoyou muttered.

Wenlang smirked at him. “Don’t act like you’re not secretly enjoying it too.”

Shaoyou bristled. “I am not—!”

Wenlang shook his head, laughing under his breath as he grabbed Gao Tu’s arm. “Unbelievable. The proud Sheng Shaoyou, undone by two brats—one small, one overgrown.”

“Go to hell!” Shaoyou barked after him, but Wenlang only waved cheerfully as the door swung shut behind them.

Silence settled again, broken only by the soft beeping of the machines and Peanut’s quiet breathing.

Shaoyou sat back down with a huff, crossing his arms. “You really are unbearable.”

Hua Yong tilted his head, smiling softly. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Shaoyou’s ears burned. “I’m here for Peanut.”

“Of course,” Hua Yong said easily, though his eyes glimmered with the knowledge of a deeper truth.

Shaoyou turned his face away, hiding the faintest smile tugging at his lips, but Hua Yong saw it. And lying there, bandaged and bruised, with his son in his arms and the love of his life fuming at his side, Hua Yong thought he’d never been happier.

Because being a whipped bastard had never felt so good.