Silence, then peace

The "victory" at the docks had bought Wenlang and Gao Tu exactly one hour of peace before the overprotective lockdown returned with a goddamn vengeance.

Dinner was supposed to be a celebration. Instead, it felt like a fucking high-security briefing at a retirement home. ShaYou had set the table with "ergonomic" cushions and a menu that consisted entirely of lukewarm, nutrient-dense mush. Hua Yong was sitting so close to Wenlang that their shoulders were practically fused, his violet eyes scanning Wenlang’s face every thirty seconds for signs of "exhaustion."

"You need to eat the kale mash, Wenlang," Hua Yong rumbled, his hand hovering near Wenlang’s elbow as if to guide the spoon to his mouth.

"The iron levels are—"

"I swear to god, Hua Yong, if you mention my iron levels one more time, I’m going to iron your face," Wenlang hissed, his gold eyes sparking with a volatile, hormone-fueled fire.

"And Gao Tu," ShaYou chirped, trying to swap Gao Tu’s water for a glass of goat’s milk. "I’ve recalculated the calcium requirements for an Omega in his second trimester, and—"

Gao Tu slammed his spoon down. The sound echoed through the penthouse like a gunshot. "ShaYou. I am this close to filing for a restraining order from inside my own home."

The air in the room shifted. Usually, Wenlang could handle the hovering with a few sweary insults, but the hormones were hit with the 40% Enigma bleed, and it was creating a goddamn chemical explosion in his chest. Everything was too loud, the mush tasted like dirt, and Hua Yong’s "protective" aura felt like it was suffocating him.

"That’s it," Wenlang growled, standing up so fast his chair screeched against the marble. "I’m done. I’m fucking done!"

Hua Yong was up in a heartbeat, his hands reaching out to steady him. "Wenlang, your heart rate is spiking. Sit back down and breathe—"

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!"

The roar came from Wenlang’s soul. It wasn't just a shout; it was a King’s Command laced with pure, unadulterated rage. The air in the room shattered. Hua Yong actually recoiled, his violet eyes wide with a shock that bordered on heartbreak.

He had never seen Wenlang look at him with such genuine, jagged fury.

"I am a grown-ass man!" Wenlang screamed, his voice cracking as the hormones surged. "I ran the Underground! I survived the labs! And now I can’t even pour my own goddamn juice or walk to the docks without you two treating me like I’m made of fucking sugar! You’re not protecting me, Hua Yong—you’re choking me! I feel like a prisoner in this goddamn house!"

"He's right!" Gao Tu stood up beside him, his face flushed and his eyes bright with tears he refused to shed. "You two are impossible! You’ve turned our lives into a goddamn petri dish! We aren't 'assets' and we aren't 'incubators'! We're your partners, and right now, I can't even stand the sight of either of you!"

ShaYou looked like he’d been slapped. "Gao Tu... I was just trying to make sure the baby—"

"The baby wants a father who isn't a goddamn helicopter!" Gao Tu snapped.

Wenlang turned his gaze on Hua Yong. The Reaper was standing there, looking utterly destroyed. His usual stoic, lethal mask was gone, replaced by the look of a man who had tried to build a sanctuary and ended up building a cage. For the first time, the Enigma looked small. He looked guilty.

"Don't look at me with those puppy-dog eyes," Wenlang spat, his chest heaving. "You don't get to feel bad after making me feel like a useless invalid for three weeks."

Wenlang turned and marched toward the bedroom, his footsteps heavy and furious. "Don't follow me, Hua Yong. I mean it. If you step foot in that room, I’m sleeping on the balcony."

"Wenlang—" Hua Yong’s voice was a broken whisper.

"SILENCE!" Wenlang roared back over his shoulder.

Gao Tu didn't say another word. He just gave ShaYou a look of icy, absolute contempt and followed Wenlang down the hall, slamming the guest suite door behind him.

The penthouse fell into a tomb-like silence.

ShaYou sat back down at the table, staring at the kale mash like it was poison. Hua Yong didn't move. He stayed standing exactly where Wenlang had screamed at him, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides. The "closed circuit" between him and Wenlang was still there, but it was cold—a jagged, icy wall of silence that Wenlang had slammed shut with the force of an Alpha’s spite.

An hour passed. Then two. Hua Yong eventually moved to the bedroom door. He didn't knock. He didn't try to open it. He just sat on the floor against the wood, his head in his hands. He could hear Wenlang inside—the sound of him tossing and turning, the frantic, angry scent of his pheromones slowly cooling into a bitter, lonely ache.

In the living room, ShaYou was slumped on the sofa, staring at the floor. He didn't have a single sweary joke left.

They had conquered the city, but they were currently losing the only thing that mattered.

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

The morning didn’t bring the usual soft sunlight and the smell of expensive coffee. It brought a fucking heavy, suffocating blanket of absolute goddamn nothing.

Wenlang woke up alone, and for once, he didn't care. His head fucking throbbed with the remnants of last night’s hormone-induced explosion, but his resolve was like tempered steel. He dressed in silence, his movements sharp and deliberate, ignoring the way his heart twinged when he felt Hua Yong’s lingering scent on the pillows.

He walked into the kitchen.

ShaYou was hovering near the toaster, looking like he’d spent the night being chewed on by a pack of wolves. Hua Yong was at the counter, his massive frame hunched over a mug of black coffee, his violet eyes shadowed and bloodshot. The second Wenlang entered, the Reaper’s head snapped up. There was a desperate, pleading look in his eyes—a silent "I’m sorry" that usually would have fucking melted Wenlang’s core.

Wenlang didn't even blink. He looked right through Hua Yong like he was made of goddamn glass.

Gao Tu was already there, sitting at the island. He looked like an ice sculpture. When ShaYou tried to slide a plate of "perfectly balanced" fruit toward him, Gao Tu didn't look up from his tablet. He simply reached out and pushed the plate back across the marble with one finger. "Gao Tu, please," ShaYou whispered, his voice cracking. "It’s organic. It’s got the—"

Gao Tu didn't say a word. He didn't even sigh. He just stood up, walked to the fridge, grabbed a carton of juice, and walked back to his seat. He acted as if ShaYou were a ghost haunting the kitchen.

"Wenlang," Hua Yong rumbled, his voice thick and low, reaching out a hand toward Wenlang’s arm. "We need to—"

Wenlang pivoted on his heel before the Reaper’s fingers could even touch his sleeve. He moved to the stove, grabbed a pan, and started cracking eggs—real eggs, with the grease and the salt—ignoring the way Hua Yong’s breath hitched in a panic.

The silence was a physical weight. It wasn't just a lack of talking; it was an S-Tier vacuum. Wenlang slammed the pan onto the burner, the loud clang making ShaYou flinch, but Wenlang’s expression remained a mask of cold, gold-eyed indifference.

"I’ve... I’ve booked a relaxing spa day for us," ShaYou stammered, his eyes darting between the two, frozen. "No doctors! Just... mud and quiet. Gao Tu?"

Gao Tu flipped a page on his tablet. Total silence.

"Wenlang, I recalibrated the sensors," Hua Yong tried again, stepping into Wenlang’s space, his Enigma aura trying to gently nudge the "closed circuit" open. "I was wrong. I’ll turn them off. Just... talk to me." Wenlang flipped his eggs. He didn't look at Hua Yong. He didn't acknowledge the pulse of violet energy trying to soothe him. He simply took his plate, sat down next to Gao Tu, and started eating.

The two of them sat there—the King and the Omega—sharing a silent, high-frequency pact of absolute defiance. They were a united front of "fuck you."

Hua Yong stood in the middle of the kitchen, the most powerful man in the city, looking utterly powerless. He looked at ShaYou, who looked like he was about to burst into tears.

"They're actually doing it," ShaYou mouthed, horrified. "The silent treatment. This is psychological warfare."

Wenlang took a slow, deliberate sip of his juice, his gold eyes meeting Gao Tu’s silver-rimmed ones. A tiny, imperceptible nod passed between them.

The Alphas had their strength, but the "Incubators" had the silence. And in this house, the silence was currently winning.

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

The silent treatment didn’t just continue; it evolved into a goddamn art form. Wenlang and Gao Tu moved through the penthouse like two vengeful, mute ghosts, while the Reaper and the CEO scrambled behind them like desperate interns. By noon everything escalated.

Wenlang went to the living room to grab a book. Before he could even reach the shelf, Hua Yong appeared, standing stiffly in his way. He wasn't blocking him—he was being a shelf. The Reaper had balanced the book Wenlang wanted on his own head, his violet eyes wide and hopeful.

"I saved you the reach, Wenlang," Hua Yong rumbled softly, his hands tucked behind his back so he wouldn't accidentally touch him. "It’s... it’s ergonomic. See?"

Wenlang didn't even look at the book. He looked at a spot three inches to the left of Hua Yong’s ear, turned around, and walked back out of the room.

ShaYou was currently following Gao Tu down the hallway with a remote-controlled robot that was carrying a tray of gold-leaf-wrapped chocolates and a literal diamond necklace.

"Gao Tu! Look! The robot does the walking so your ankles don't swell!" ShaYou shouted, his voice high and frantic. "It also tells jokes! Robot, tell the one about the Alpha and the bar! Gao Tu, please! I’ll fire the nutritionist! I’ll buy you a volcano! Just make a sound! Even a grunt! I’d take a grunt!"

Gao Tu stepped over the robot as if it were a piece of trash, his expression as flat as a goddamn pancake. He didn't even break his stride.

Hua Yong and ShaYou decided to stage a "spontaneous" wrestling match in the middle of the kitchen to show off their strength and "viability," hoping to trigger an Alpha response from Wenlang.

"Look at this, Wenlang!" ShaYou yelled, pretend-pinning the Reaper to the marble island. "I’m a threat! I’m attacking the Reaper! Don't you want to protect the house? Don't you want to tell me I’m a prick?"

Wenlang walked in, grabbed a bottle of water, and walked out. He didn't even glance at the two grown-ass men rolling around on the floor like goddamn golden retrievers.

The real low point came an hour later. Wenlang and Gao Tu were sitting on the balcony, enjoying the breeze in a heavy, shared silence.

Suddenly, two socks appeared over the edge of the railing.

Hua Yong and ShaYou were crouched on the ledge below (a goddamn sixty-story drop, but the Reaper didn't care), using socks with googly eyes glued on them.

"Hi, I’m Mr. Sorry!" ShaYou’s sock-voice squeaked from below. "And I’m Mr. Please-Forgive-Me!" Hua Yong’s sock-voice followed, his deep, gravelly tone making the puppet sound like a fucking goddamn demon. "We were overprotective idiots! We promise to be less annoying!"

Wenlang looked at the socks. He looked at Gao Tu. Gao Tu looked at his nails.

Wenlang stood up, walked to the railing, and closed the sliding glass door, locking it with a sharp click.

ShaYou brought in a professional mariachi band. In the living room. At 3:00 PM. Hua Yong was standing in the middle of it, holding a sign that said I WILL LET YOU DRIVE THE TANK.

Wenlang and Gao Tu walked into the room, put on noise-canceling headphones in perfect synchronization, and sat on the sofa to stare at the fucking wall.

Hua Yong’s violet aura was practically weeping. He looked at Wenlang—his King, his partner—and felt the "closed circuit" pulsing with Wenlang’s stubborn, cold amusement. Wenlang was enjoying this. He was making them bleed for every iron level comment and every safety check they’d forced on him.

"He's not breaking," ShaYou whispered to the band, his hair a mess and his tie undone. "Why isn't he breaking? I offered him a volcano!"

"Because," Gao Tu’s voice suddenly rang out, cold and clear.

ShaYou and Hua Yong froze. They leaned in, desperate. "Because why, Gao Tu?!"

Gao Tu looked at Wenlang. Wenlang gave a slow, tiny nod of permission.

"Because," Wenlang finally rasped, his gold eyes flashing with a wicked, hormone-fueled triumph. "You haven't even brought us the goddamn spicy noodles yet. And until there’s a pile of junk food on this table and a written contract saying you’ll stay five feet away unless invited... the socks stay outside."

The silence was broken, but the work was far from over.

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

The penthouse was a goddamn disaster zone. Mariachi players were shuffling out the door, ShaYou’s "Mr. Sorry" sock was lying abandoned on the floor like a dead snake, and the air was thick with the scent of desperate S-Tier sweat and failed bribes.

Hua Yong and ShaYou didn’t even wait for the door to close behind the band.

"Noodles! Spicy! Junk food! Red sauce!" ShaYou was practically vibrating, his eyes wild as he checked his tactical GPS. "I know a place in the Lower District that’s so sketchy the health department hasn't even found the building yet! It’s perfect!"

"I’ll get the tank," Hua Yong rumbled, his violet eyes flashing with a singular, lethal purpose. He didn't look back. He didn't hesitate. He moved with more speed than he’d used during the Associate’s takeover, disappearing into the garage elevator like a fucking shadow.

Wenlang and Gao Tu stayed on the sofa, leaning back with their arms crossed, watching the chaos with the cold, regal satisfaction of two queens who had just ordered a public execution.

"Five feet," Gao Tu reminded them as the elevator doors started to hiss shut.

"And no pre-chewing the goddamn crusts!" Wenlang roared after them.

Forty-five minutes later, the elevator dived open.

Hua Yong and ShaYou burst into the room, looking like they’d just fought a war. Hua Yong’s black t-shirt was torn at the shoulder, and ShaYou had a mysterious red smudge on his cheek that might have been salsa or the blood of a slow waiter.

They didn't say a word. They marched to the coffee table and began unloading the cargo.

Greasy paper bags. Plastic containers overflowing with noodles so red they looked like they were glowing.

Extra-large bags of salt-and-vinegar chips. Two liters of a high-fructose soda that ShaYou usually claimed was liquid cancer.

"There," ShaYou panted, dropping a legal-sized document on top of the noodles. The contract. Five-foot radius. No medical scanners unless there’s actual blood. No 'ergonomic' mush. And I’ve officially fired the nutritionist. I also bought the noodle shop so we can have them on speed-dial."

Wenlang leaned forward, picking up the contract. He scanned it, his gold eyes shimmering with a slow, victorious heat. Beside him, Gao Tu reached for a noodle container, popping the lid and inhaling the spicy, beautiful steam like it was fucking  oxygen.

Hua Yong stood exactly five feet away, his hands clasped behind his back, his jaw tight. The "closed circuit" was finally opening, the icy wall melting into a warm, jagged hum of reconciliation. He looked at Wenlang—pale, and currently shoving a forkful of noodles into his mouth—and felt a wave of relief so strong it nearly took his knees out.

"Better?" Hua Yong rasped, his voice low and hopeful.

Wenlang chewed, swallowed, and let out a long, satisfied breath. He looked at the Reaper, then at the CEO, then back at his noodles.

"It’s a start, you pricks," Wenlang muttered, though the corners of his mouth were twitching into a smirk. "Now sit down on the other sofa and watch us eat. And don't you dare mention the word 'folic acid' for the rest of the night."

"Not a word," ShaYou promised, collapsing onto the far couch and waving a hand in the air. "We’re just furniture. Polished, billionaire furniture."

Gao Tu took a bite of a taco, his eyes closing in bliss. "Good. Because if I hear one more thing about 'Omega lining,' I’m going to use that robot to shave your head in your sleep."

The silence in the penthouse was finally gone, replaced by the sounds of crinkling bags and the low, contented thrum of one Enigma and one S-Tier Alpha  who had finally learned who really ran the goddamn kingdom.

Wenlang looked at Hua Yong across the room. He didn't need a scan or a sensor to know the kid was fine. He could feel it in the way the Reaper’s heart was beating in time with his own—a steady, violet-gold pulse of a family that was messy, violent, and absolutely fucking perfect.

"Hey, Reaper," Wenlang called out, tossing a stray chip toward the other sofa.

Hua Yong caught it out of the air with a blur of speed, his violet eyes softening. "Yeah, King?"

"Tomorrow, we're going for a drive. And I'm the one behind the wheel."

Hua Yong hesitated for exactly half a second, then gave a slow, respectful nod. "Understood. I'll prep the engine."

The war was over. The peace treaty was signed in grease and spice. And as the sun set over the city, the four of them sat in the flickering light of the penthouse, waiting for the future to arrive one kick at a time.