The Nesting Instincts of Monsters

The penthouse didn't look like a bachelor pad for the city's most dangerous elite anymore. It looked like a high-tech fortress designed by a paranoid interior decorator. Four months of peace had done something to the "Family" that no war ever could—it had made them soft in the head and sharp in the gear.

ShaYou was currently standing in the center of the living room, holding a device that looked like a cross between a thermal scanner and a label maker.

"I’m telling you, Gao Tu, the friction coefficient on these floor tiles is unacceptable!" ShaYou yelled, pointing at the pristine marble. "If you slip, even a little, the center of gravity shifts. I’ve ordered a custom-fit rubberized grip-mat for every square inch of this floor. It’s coming in by helicopter this afternoon."

Gao Tu, who was now six months along and looking like a man who was ready to start a fight with God just for the fun of it, sat on the sofa with a bowl of pickles and peanut butter. His silver-rimmed glasses were pushed up into his hair, and his gaze was flat.

"ShaYou. If you put rubber mats on my floor, I will use your tactical label maker to seal your mouth shut," Gao Tu said, his voice as calm and lethal as a winter frost. "I am a high-level Omega I can handle a goddamn tile floor."

"But the baby! The S-Tier development needs stability!" ShaYou wailed, dropping to his knees to inspect a corner of the coffee table for the tenth time. "And Wenlang! Have you seen him? He’s been acting... weird. Every time I open a bag of salt and vinegar chips, he looks like he wants to barf or punch me. Or both."

In the kitchen, Wenlang was staring at a carton of milk like it was a hostile witness.

He felt... off. It wasn't the kind of "off" he was used to—it wasn't the jagged, violet-gold static of an Enigma update or the adrenaline of a street fight. It was a strange, liquid heaviness in his gut. His 40% Enigma senses were turned up to eleven, but instead of scanning for snipers, they were currently fixated on the smell of the dishwasher detergent, which suddenly smelled like a goddamn chemical spill.

"Goddamn it," Wenlang muttered, shoving the milk back into the fridge. His stomach did a slow, nauseating flip.

"You're pale."

Wenlang jumped, spinning around to see Hua Yong leaning against the doorframe. The Reaper was dressed in a simple black t-shirt, his massive frame looking more relaxed than it had in years, but his violet eyes were narrowed in that sharp, analytical way that Wenlang usually loved but currently found annoying as hell.

"I'm fine," Wenlang snapped, wiping a cold sweat from his forehead. "Just didn't sleep well. The city’s hum was too loud last night."

Hua Yong stepped closer, his presence immediately triggering that "closed circuit" bond. Usually, the touch of Hua Yong’s power was like an anchor, but today, as the Enigma’s hand settled on the back of Wenlang’s neck, the King felt a wave of dizzying heat wash over him.

"Your scent is... shifting," Hua Yong rumbled, leaning in to press his nose against the mark on Wenlang’s neck. He inhaled deeply, his brow furrowing. "It’s not just the ozone. There’s something else. Something sweet. Like a storm breaking over a field of lilies."

"I don't smell like flowers, you prick," Wenlang grunted, though he leaned into the touch, his body instinctively seeking the grounding heat of the Enigma. "I smell like a King who needs more caffeine and less of ShaYou’s drilling."

Hua Yong didn't let go. His hand slid down Wenlang’s back, his touch lingering over the small of his waist.

"You haven't touched your coffee in three days, Wenlang. And you’ve been 'nesting' with my hoodies in the walk-in closet."

Wenlang froze. "I am not nesting. I am... organizing the laundry. With my teeth. Shut up."

ShaYou burst into the kitchen, oblivious to the high-voltage tension between the two of them.

"Okay, new plan!" ShaYou shouted, holding up a blueprint. "I’m installing an air-filtration system that can filter out 99.9% of all airborne toxins, including the smell of Wenlang’s shitty leather jackets. We need a 'Clean Zone' for the nursery. And I’ve decided that we’re going to need a full-time medical detail stationed in the guest wing."

"ShaYou, if you bring one more doctor into this house, I will shoot them on principle," Gao Tu called out from the living room.

"But the health! The S-Tier markers!" ShaYou turned to Wenlang, his eyes wide. "Wenlang, back me up! You’re an Alpha! You know the importance of a secure perimeter!"

Wenlang opened his mouth to tell ShaYou to shove the blueprints, but the sudden smell of the balsamic glaze on the counter hit him like a physical blow. His stomach lurched, and he had to grab the edge of the marble island to keep his knees from buckling.

"Wenlang?" ShaYou’s voice dropped, his humor replaced by immediate, sharp concern. "Hey, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

Hua Yong’s grip on Wenlang tightened, his violet eyes glowing with a sudden, dawning realization. He didn't say a word, but the "closed circuit" between them flared with a protective, possessive heat that made Wenlang’s head spin.

"I'm fine," Wenlang rasped, his voice cracking. "Just... too much salt in the air. ShaYou, go buy another mountain or something. Just get out of my face."

It went calm for the rest of the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wenlang spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, his body feeling like a goddamn radio tuned to every frequency at once. Every time Hua Yong shifted in his sleep, the movement felt like a tectonic plate sliding against Wenlang’s skin. The "closed circuit" was humming a low, steady bassline that made his blood feel thick and warm.

By the time the first grey light of morning started to bleed through the blackout curtains, Wenlang was done. He needed to move. He needed to prove that he was still the King and not some glitchy, "lily-scented" mess.

The morning sun filtered through the reinforced glass of the penthouse, hitting the bed with a soft, deceptive calm. Wenlang shifted, his hand instinctively reaching for the other side of the mattress, but he found it cold and empty.

Usually, waking up alone would have sent a spike of Alpha-paranoia through his chest, but today, his new senses were dialed in differently. He didn't need to see Hua Yong; he could feel him. The deep, grounding ozone-and-sandalwood scent of the Reaper was drifting in from the hallway, tangled with the distant, chaotic sounds of ShaYou’s voice and the rhythmic clinking of pans.

Wenlang sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. He actually felt... decent. The jagged nausea that had been shadowing him for the last few days had retreated into a dull hum, and his head felt clear for the first time in a week.

"Goddamn finally," Wenlang muttered, pulling on a pair of silk joggers and heading for the door.

As he stepped into the hallway, the scent of the penthouse hit him. It was a riot of smells—Gao Tu’s expensive tea, the metallic tang of ShaYou’s high-tech gadgets, and... breakfast.

He walked into the kitchen, where the sun was flooding the marble island. ShaYou was standing at the stove, wearing an apron that said CEO of Breakfast over a pair of five-thousand-dollar trousers. Gao Tu was sitting at the counter, methodically scrolling through a tablet while nursing a mug of something green and healthy-looking. Hua Yong was leaning against the counter near the coffee machine. The second Wenlang entered the room, the Reaper’s violet eyes locked onto him, tracking his movement with that silent, predatory devotion.

"Morning, sunshine!" ShaYou chirped, flipping something in a pan with a flourish. "Glad to see the King decided to join the mortals. I’m making my world-famous, protein-packed S-Tier omelets. Six different kinds of eggs, Wenlang. It’s a goddamn nutritional masterpiece."

"Just give me coffee and shut the fuck up, ShaYou," Wenlang grunted, though there was no real heat in it. He walked over to the island, leaning his hip against the cool marble.

"You look less like a corpse today," Gao Tu noted, peering over his glasses. "The color is back in your face."

"Yeah, well, I think I just needed to sleep off whatever shitty bug I caught," Wenlang said, reaching for a mug.

But then, it happened.

ShaYou slid the massive pan of eggs onto the counter, right in front of Wenlang. The steam rose in a thick, yellow cloud, carrying the concentrated scent of butter, sulfur, and heavy grease.

To anyone else, it was just breakfast. To Wenlang, it was a goddamn chemical weapon.

The smell didn't just hit his nose; it punched him in the gut. The world tilted, the marble island suddenly feeling like it was spinning at a thousand miles an hour. The "decent" feeling he’d woken up with vanished, replaced by a violent, acidic surge that climbed up his throat before he could even blink.

"Wenlang?" ShaYou’s voice sounded miles away.

Wenlang didn't have time to answer. He didn't have time to make it to the hallway bathroom, let alone the master suite. His hand flew to his mouth as he pivoted, his knees hitting the floor hard as he lunged for the industrial-sized trash can at the end of the island.

The sound was wrecked and agonizing. He gripped the edge of the bin so hard the plastic groaned, his vision swimming in violet-gold spots.

"Whoa, whoa!" ShaYou scrambled back, holding the spatula like a shield. "I know my cooking can be intense, but goddamn, Wenlang!"

In an instant, the air in the kitchen changed. The ozone scent sharpened, becoming a protective, heavy wall. Hua Yong was there, his massive frame shielding Wenlang from the rest of the room. He knelt down, one hand anchoring Wenlang’s shoulder while the other slid firmly around his waist to steady him.

"Breathe," Hua Yong rumbled, his voice a low-frequency command that vibrated through Wenlang’s spine. Wenlang leaned back against Hua Yong’s chest, gasping for air, his skin slick with a cold sweat. "I’m gonna... I’m gonna kill him. The eggs... they smelled like goddamn rot..."

Hua Yong didn't answer. He was still, his hand flat against the side of Wenlang’s waist. But then, Wenlang felt it—the Reaper’s entire body went rigid.

Hua Yong’s violet eyes weren't just glowing; they were wide with a shock so profound it was almost terrifying. His hand shifted, his fingers spreading over the curve of Wenlang’s hip, his Enigma-senses diving deep into the biological static radiating off the King.

"Hua Yong?" ShaYou asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "What is it? Is he poisoned?"

Hua Yong didn't look up. He was staring at Wenlang’s profile, his breath hitching in a way Wenlang had never heard before. The "closed circuit" between them flared, and suddenly, Wenlang felt it too—a tiny, rhythmic pulse under Hua Yong’s palm that didn't belong to either of them.

"Holy shit," Hua Yong whispered, his voice thick with a raw awe.

He looked at Wenlang, his grip tightening as if he were afraid the King might vanish. "It's not a bug, Wenlang. The eggs didn't do this."

Wenlang looked up, his gold eyes blurry and confused. "Then what the fuck is it?"

Hua Yong leaned in, his forehead resting against Wenlang’s, his voice a ragged shadow of its usual strength.

"The markers... they've integrated. You're carrying the legacy, Wenlang. There's another heartbeat in there."

The silence in the kitchen was absolute. ShaYou’s spatula hit the floor with a clatter, and even Gao Tu stood up, his eyes wide.

Wenlang just stared at the Reaper, the realization hitting him harder than any Enigma Command ever could.

"You've got to be kidding me," he rasped, a slow, grin finally breaking through the shock. "A mini-Reaper? This city is officially fucked."

The kitchen was dead quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of ShaYou’s jaw metaphorically hitting the floor.

Wenlang tried to push himself up from the floor, his face still pale and his legs feeling like they were made of overcooked noodles. "Alright, alright," Wenlang grunted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "The shock is over. Help me up, you big reaper prick."

He expected Hua Yong to haul him up with that effortless, borderline-aggressive strength he always used. Instead, Hua Yong’s hands moved with a sudden, jarring hesitation. The Reaper, the man who had stared down death and dismantled him and an empire without blinking, was currently hovering his palms over Wenlang’s waist like he was trying to handle a bomb made of glass.

"Wenlang. Don't move," Hua Yong rumbled, his voice low and vibrating with a frequency Wenlang had never heard before—pure, unadulterated terror.

"I'm just standing up, Hua Yong. I didn't lose my legs," Wenlang snapped, reaching for the island to pull himself up.

Hua Yong was on him in a heartbeat, but it was different. He didn't grab Wenlang; he supported him, his touch so light it was almost maddening. He tucked his arm under Wenlang’s shoulders, moving with a calculated, agonizing slowness.

"Your equilibrium is shifted," Hua Yong noted, his violet eyes scanning Wenlang’s body with the intensity of a goddamn X-ray. "The biological load is drawing from your core. You shouldn't be exerting yourself."

"I was punching a heavy bag yesterday!" Wenlang barked, though he leaned into the Reaper’s heat despite himself.

"That was yesterday," Hua Yong countered, his voice dropping into a register that made the windows rattle. "Before I knew. Before I realized that my markers were... fragile."

ShaYou finally snapped out of his trance, waving his spatula in the air. "Fragile?! Wenlang is an S-Tier Alpha King! He’s built like a goddamn tank! But Hua Yong is right! No more heavy bags! No more stairs! I’m installing a chair-lift on the spiral staircase! And Wenlang—no more swearing! It raises the baby’s cortisol levels!"

"If you put a chair-lift in this house, I will throw you off the balcony," Wenlang hissed, but his threat lacked its usual bite because he was too busy looking at Hua Yong.

The Reaper was staring at Wenlang’s midsection with an expression that was bordering on obsessive. He looked... haunted. Like he was suddenly aware that his own strength—the very thing that had protected Wenlang for months—was now a potential threat.

"Hua Yong," Wenlang said, his voice softening. "Look at me."

The violet eyes snapped up. They were blown out, the Enigma power swirling in them like a storm.

"You aren't going to hurt me," Wenlang promised, reaching up to cup Hua Yong’s face. "I'm still the King. I'm not a goddamn porcelain doll."

"You're carrying our soul, Wenlang," Hua Yong whispered, his large hand finally settling firmly, yet delicately, over Wenlang’s stomach. "I don't know how to be gentle enough for this."

"Then learn," Wenlang smirked, though his own heart was thudding a mile a minute. "Starting with taking me back to bed and getting me some goddamn water that doesn't smell like ShaYou’s cooking."

Hua Yong didn't even wait for him to finish. He scooped Wenlang up in his arms, bridal style, moving with such smooth, fluid precision that Wenlang didn't even feel the lift.

"Hey! I can walk!" Wenlang protested, his face flushing.

"Tactical precaution," Hua Yong rumbled, already heading for the hallway. "From now on, the King doesn't touch the floor unless I’ve scanned it for hazards."

"Oh my god," Gao Tu sighed from the counter, watching them go. "Now there are two of them. ShaYou, you've created a monster."

ShaYou just grinned, already pulling out his phone. "I'm calling the architect! We need a padded room! Two padded rooms!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back in the master suite, the air was thick enough to choke a normal man. The door hadn’t even fully clicked shut before Hua Yong had Wenlang deposited onto the bed—not thrown, but placed, like he was a goddamn Fabergé egg filled with nitroglycerin.

"Hua Yong, seriously, knock it off," Wenlang grumbled, trying to sit up.

"Sit back," Hua Yong commanded. It wasn't the "Voice," but it carried the weight of a man who was one shredded nerve away from sealing the room in lead.

The Reaper knelt on the edge of the mattress, his violet eyes glowing with a focused, surgical intensity. He reached out, his hands trembling just a fraction before he flattened his palms against Wenlang’s stomach, pushing the silk of the shirt up.

"I need to see," Hua Yong muttered. He closed his eyes, and the "closed circuit" flared. Wenlang gasped as he felt a wave of cool, violet energy wash through him. It wasn't the aggressive, bone-deep thrum of their usual bond; it was a scan—a high-frequency sonar that traveled through his blood, mapping out every new cell. L "Goddamn," Wenlang breathed, his head falling back against the headboard. He could feel it too—the resonance hitting a tiny, solid point of light deep inside him.

Hua Yong’s breath hitched. Through the bond, Wenlang felt the Reaper’s sheer, unadulterated terror. Hua Yong wasn't seeing a "Subject Zero" or an "Asset" anymore. He was seeing a flicker of life that was half-King and half-Ghost, and the responsibility of it was clearly crushing his S-Tier soul.

"It’s... stable," Hua Yong whispered, his forehead dropping against Wenlang’s abdomen. "But your heart rate is elevated. Your core temperature is up by 0.5 degrees. I need to recalibrate the room's climate control."

"Hua Yong, I'm just hot because you're acting like a goddamn space-heater," Wenlang rasped, reaching down to pull the Reaper up. "Look at me. I'm okay."

Hua Yong looked up, and for the first time, the Reaper looked small. "I spent my life destroying things, Wenlang. I don't know how to keep something this small alive."

"You kept me alive," Wenlang countered, his gold eyes fierce. "And I’m a huge pain in the ass. You’ll be fine."

By 2:00 PM, Wenlang was ready to commit a felony.

He had spent the last four hours "resting," which mostly consisted of Hua Yong hovering three inches away and periodically checking his pulse.

When Wenlang finally managed to escape to the kitchen for a drink, the Reaper was on his heels like a silent, violet-eyed shadow.

Wenlang reached for the carton of orange juice in the fridge. Before his fingers could even graze the cardboard, a massive, scarred hand clamped over the handle.

"I'll do it," Hua Yong rumbled.

"It's a liter of juice, not a goddamn boulder!" Wenlang snapped, trying to yank it away.

Hua Yong didn't budge. He gently but firmly pried Wenlang’s fingers off.

"The repetitive motion of pouring could strain your lateral obliques. And the acidity might trigger another emetic episode. I should dilute it with filtered alkaline water first."

Wenlang stared at him, his gold eyes flashing. "Dilute it? You want to water down my juice? Because of my 'lateral obliques'?"

"Safety first," Hua Yong replied, his face a mask of deadpan Enigma seriousness.

Wenlang looked over at the counter, where ShaYou was currently busy taping foam padding to the corners of the fruit bowl. "ShaYou! Tell your brother-in-arms to give me the goddamn juice before I bite him!"

ShaYou didn't even look up. "He's right, Wenlang! Pulp is a choking hazard! And the weight of a full carton can cause micro-tears in your connective tissue! Gao Tu only drinks through a straw now! It’s tactical!"

Gao Tu, who was sitting at the table, looked over his glasses at Wenlang. "Don't look at me. I tried to make a sandwich an hour ago and ShaYou insisted on pre-chewing the crusts. We’re living in a padded cell now, Wenlang. Accept your fate."

Wenlang turned back to Hua Yong, who was now meticulously measuring out exactly four ounces of juice and four ounces of water into a crystal glass as if he were mixing a goddamn cure for the plague.

"Hua Yong," Wenlang said, his voice dropping into that dangerous, King-level register. "If you don't give me that glass in three seconds, I am going to use an Enigma Command to make you do the macarena in front of the security cameras."

Hua Yong paused, the glass halfway to Wenlang’s hand. He looked at Wenlang, then at the glass, then back at the King’s murderous expression.

"The macarena is a high-impact dance," Hua Yong noted calmly. "It would be bad for the baby if I bumped into you while performing it. Here is your juice."

Wenlang snatched the glass, downed the watered-down crap in one go, and slammed it onto the counter. "I hate all of you. I'm going to the balcony."

"Not without a sweater!" ShaYou and Hua Yong yelled at the same time. Wenlang just let out a long scream, and kept walking.