Chapter 17
820 Words
After that day, Li Han did not return to work—nor did he catch even the faintest glimpse of the twins.
It wasn’t as if he wanted to curl up and cry because he felt abused or violated. No, nothing dramatic like that.
It was simply that it had been his first time doing anything remotely close to… that.
And his brain had reacted the only way it knew how—panic, confusion, a nervous tremble in his bones like a kitten under cold rain..
It unsettled him, left him replaying the moment over and over, wondering if he should laugh, scream, or crawl into a hole.
In the end he ran, and the one small blessing was that he didn’t have to look the twins in the eye and explain what the heck happened.
They probably would’ve asked a thousand questions and called it destiny.
“Aiya, why are your cheeks so red? Do you have a fever, Sūnzi?”
Li Han snapped out of his spiral and touched his face instinctively. Sure enough—it was burning.
“No, it’s nothing, Grandmother. It’s just a bit hot in here,” he muttered.
His grandmother paused, her brow wrinkling. The air was perfectly cool. But she didn’t say a word.
With the unbothered wisdom of someone who had raised too many stubborn boys to count, she simply switched the fan to a higher setting and went back to what she was doing. After all, it wasn’t her body overheating from mortifying memories.
His grandmother was wonderfully understanding.
When he told her he wasn’t going back to work for a while, she didn’t ask why or press him the way other adults might.
She didn’t lecture him about responsibility or wasted time, instead she nodded, as if she had expected it, and quietly let him spend his days tucked away with his books, the one safe place where obligations and twin alphas didn’t exist.
The only exciting thing that happened during that stretch of peace was the professional photo session his grandmother insisted they do together.
She made him wear a traditional hanfu—rented, because his late grandfather’s was still too big across the shoulders and too long in the sleeves—and she proudly wore one herself.
Li Han felt awkward at first, drowning in elegance like a duck wearing embroidered silk, but the photographer was kind, the lighting soft, and once he relaxed, he looked… well, like someone who belonged to a storybook era.
Afterward they went on a picnic, eating simple food under a tree, the breeze tugging playfully at their sleeves. For once, life was quiet and nice without any complications.
When he returned home, he carried back jars of pickles and little side dishes his grandmother made in bulk, and his parents were so delighted they called to thank her personally.
Li Han felt warm all week after hearing the laughter through the phone. School was creeping closer, only a week left before everything resumed.
Li Han wasn’t ready to give up earning his own pocket money, though, so he searched for another part-time job that wouldn’t drown his schedule.
It wasn’t easy—most stores wanted long shifts or terrible hours, but somehow, like fate tossing him a bone, he found a place at a small coffee shop just far enough from school that most customers wouldn’t recognize him.
His parents praised him endlessly, proud and supportive, which made Li Han walk around the house feeling an inch taller.
The coffee shop wasn’t a flashy chain like Starbricks, but a cozy little place owned by a widower with gentle eyes and a talent for remembering everyone’s drink order.
Li Han loved the atmosphere immediately.
He worked at the counter since he wasn’t trusted with coffee machines yet—apparently milk steamers had a vendetta against new hires—but he didn’t mind.
There were a few other high school students working shifts, but he didn’t know who went to his school and honestly couldn’t be bothered to care.
The best perk of the job was the free item staff got every shift. Li Han didn’t even like coffee that much, but the pastries, sandwiches, and occasional rotating desserts absolutely won his heart.
Then school resumed, and suddenly the hallways were bursting with noise and chaos as if vacation had never existed.
But Li Han was weirdly calm about it.
He studied well, did his homework, minded his business, and—most importantly—did not run into the twins.
At least… not yet.
It wasn’t like he was actively checking for them, of course not.
He wasn’t thinking about whether they were in class or not, or whether they had transferred or dropped out or were looming around a corner like two oversized shadows.
It was just general knowledge.
Right?
Completely casual awareness, definitely not interest.
He told himself that every day.
- Writer
