Zhan shot Yibo a sharp, cutting glare...one that seemed to slice straight through his blood.
"Who exactly is your husband?" Zhan snapped. "You better wake up from that ridiculous fantasy of yours. Whatever happened between us back then...it was never with my consent. I didn't marry you out of love or affection. It was just because…"
But before he could finish, Yibo grabbed and pulled him into his chest with one arm, climbed onto the bed in one motion, and pinned him down with the full weight of his body. Zhan wasn't expecting it. It knocked the breath out of him.
Within seconds, the warmth of their bodies merged. They shared breath, even though Zhan's was short and uneven from being crushed beneath Yibo's solid frame. His face was so close, their eyes locked. There was something different about Yibo's gaze....darker, heavier, like his eyes had changed color. Even slightly narrowed, they seemed to press down on Zhan's chest.
A distant, long-forgotten memory flickered in Zhan's mind. It snapped something in him. He began to struggle, pushing hard against Yibo.
"Get off me...unless you want me to scream."
"Go ahead," Yibo murmured, as if daring him.
Instead, he leaned down, pressing his lips to the base of Zhan's neck, his fingers tangled in Zhan's hair. The unexpected intimacy stunned Zhan into stillness.
Yibo's hands moved, his touch roaming with purpose. Zhan's instincts screamed, yet his limbs hesitated. He kept protesting...at first forcefully, then more weakly, until his only resistance became muttered threats like, "You'll regret this…" and "You'll answer for this…"
But Yibo wasn't listening.
Then, Yibo's voice broke through, low and intense. "Please, Zhan. I'm not here to force myself on you. I don't want to take anything from you...not like that. I just… I want to feel you, just a little. Let me show you how much I still care. I know… it's been a long time since anyone touched you like this. I hope so. Because I haven't touched anyone either. Not since you."
Zhan stared at him with a skeptical look, one that said, Don't insult my intelligence.
Yibo gave a soft, sad smile. "Trust me. Su Han was born through IVF. I never had anything with Qiantang....or anyone else. You're the first. And the last."
Zhan let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He didn't say anything. But he stopped resisting.
He didn't respond or reciprocate...but he no longer pushed Yibo away.
Yibo took this silence as permission, or perhaps surrender. So he continued.
What scared Zhan the most wasn't Yibo's boldness...it was how his own body began to react. His skin burned, his pulse raced, and a part of him he thought had gone cold long ago was coming back to life.
Still, a sharp fear twisted inside him. Yibo's hand was sliding somewhere it shouldn't go....too far. Panic bubbled up. Memories from nine years ago crashed into him: those three times they'd been together. Even now, just thinking of them sent a chill down his spine.
Yibo had been rough then... So rough that Zhan had needed days to recover. A deep, visceral fear of him had lingered ever since.
With a final burst of strength, Zhan shoved him off.
Yibo shifted....he didn't leave, but it was like something hit him. A flash of clarity, maybe guilt.
He froze.
Then slowly, he rested his head on Zhan's chest, breathing heavily. Zhan could feel his own chest rising and falling in time. His heart was pounding loud and fast.
Yibo stayed like that for a moment before calming himself. He didn't want Zhan to see his face while he was like this....so raw, so vulnerable.
Zhan didn't move either. He could barely catch his breath.
Yibo finally rolled off to the side and sat up at the edge of the bed. Zhan saw the state of his shirt...how disheveled it was...and looked away. He turned quickly onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow, overwhelmed with embarrassment, frustration, and shame.
He heard Yibo pause near the vanity. Then footsteps toward the door… and a stop.
Without turning, Yibo spoke in a cold, clipped voice:
"I'm not some pathetic man, Zhan. I've never been, and I never will be. If I've been soft with you, it's because I feel guilty....because I know what we did to you wasn't fair. But make no mistake: you're still my husband. And I'm possessive as hell."
"I won't tolerate anyone stepping into what's mine. Anyone who tries...even if they only brush your arm in passing...will regret it. I'm not the kind of man you cross. If you have admirers, warn them. Tell them loudly: don't even think about claiming you."
"And if you're the one leading them on?" His voice dropped. "Then you and I are not done. No forgiveness. I don't care if I see it or not."
He paused, then added, "Your phone? I'm sorry, I know I've cross my limit… but I've seized it. Until further notice."
And with that, Yibo walked out...calm, composed, and entirely in control.
Zhan shot up, intending to tell Yibo off...that he had no right to act like a husband when he wasn't one. Whatever bond Yibo imagined still existed between them, Zhan didn't acknowledge it. But just as he opened his mouth, Yibo cast one last look over his shoulder and shut the door behind him. That one look silenced Zhan completely. He'd never seen Yibo look at him like that.
For a full minute, Zhan sat still before flopping back onto the bed with a frustrated sigh.
Oddly enough, instead of feeling angry at Yibo, Zhan found himself irritated at himself...especially when the scent of Yibo's cologne started lingering heavily around him. He sniffed at his own skin and realized it smelled like Yibo too. Even his bedsheets carried the scent, as if Yibo had sprayed it directly onto everything. Annoyed, Zhan got up, pacing, berating himself.
"How the hell did I let him get that close?" he muttered. "Why didn't I lock the bedroom door when i came in?" He groaned again, stomping toward the bathroom, determined that only a shower could rid him of that overpowering scent.
Inside the bathroom, he turned on the water and scrubbed himself furiously, but his frustration only intensified. The memory of being completely vulnerable in Yibo's arms came back like a slap to the face.
"I'll never forgive you, you damn frog prince," he muttered under his breath.
What shocked Zhan even more was what he'd just done... something he'd never done in his life. He had... relieved himself in the shower. And the reason? Yibo. Just the memory of him had pushed Zhan's body into a place his mind wasn't ready to accept.
Wrapped in a towel, Zhan put into the same clothes...even though they were wrinkled. He walked over to the mirror and caught his own reflection. The shame hit him fresh, especially at the sight of his shirt. He tore it off in frustration and tossed it into the laundry.
As he reached for a comb, something on the dresser caught his eye...a small folded note with a memory card resting on top. He recognized the paper from earlier and picked it up, unfolding it cautiously.
The handwriting was clean and purposeful. It read:
I've walked into people's homes without permission, I am so sorry for that, but tonight I broke a line I promised myself I never would. Had things gone differently, you might've found yourself raising twins...part two. But I left a mark behind, one you'll keep touching without realizing it. Don't forget...you belong to someone. You belong to Yibo. Only me. For as long as this world turns.
Here's your memory card if you need it. As for your phone and SIMs...they're gone, just like I warned you. I shouldn't have waited this long to take the phone away; I never even knew who bought it for you.
I'm leaving now, taking only the memory of today. Even though you stabbed my heart, I'll carry this feeling with me. My jealousy might destroy me before dawn, but don't even think about stepping outside again without my permission.
Your Prince...the father of your children.
Zhan exploded, tearing up the note as she stormed around the room.
"Pathetic. Absolutely ridiculous. You better go find your husband if the day's not too late for you!" he fumed to himself. "Don't think I believe that fairy tale of yours. And whatever you pulled today...you're responsible for it, not me! You can't stop me from talking to whoever I want! And my phone...you better return it, or I swear…"
Still muttering to himself, Zhan yanked the bedcovers off, replaced the bedsheets, and climbed back into bed. But the peace didn't last long. Every time he closed his eyes, flashes of what happened with Yibo filled his thoughts. With a frustrated groan, he got up again and left the room entirely, heading to the sitting room to grab the landline.
"I'm not going anywhere tonight," he muttered.
"Or is it Yibo's warning getting to you?" a voice inside him whispered.
"Yeah right. Like I'd let him get in my head," Zhan snapped at himself as he picked up the phone.
He called Aunt Anu.
She told him to stay home, that she'd pick up the kids herself and bring them back. That worked for Zhan...he was feeling drained and the idea of going out again made him even more exhausted.
As he hung up, he considered calling Nanjue. When he did, the first thing Nanjue asked about was his phone. Zhan brushed it off, claiming it just needed charging. He then confirmed he'd be okay with Nanjue visiting tomorrow.
But even that conversation didn't sit well. Something felt off.
Zhan cut the call early, made an excuse, and set the receiver down. He curled up right there in the sitting room, not wanting to go back into his bedroom...because the scent of Yibo still lingered in the air, stirring feelings and memories he desperately wanted to avoid.
Even here, he wasn't free. His thoughts kept looping back to that earlier moment, again and again. He tossed and turned, sighing endlessly, trying to find a position...or a state of mind...that might finally bring him peace.
---
From the moment he got into the car, Yibo felt a wave of indescribable excitement wash over him. One glance at his face and you'd know he was in high spirits. As he drove, he began questioning himself...why had he wasted so much time just staring at Zhan in the past when he could've experienced moments like this?
The memories came rushing back, especially from their early days. He recalled their first night...wild and unforgettable. Nothing he'd ever heard compared to what happened between them. A smile tugged at his lips as he rested one hand on his chest, the other still on the steering wheel.
"The night we're about to relive will be more breathtaking than your wildest dreams, Zhan. I've prepared a love so intense, it'll nearly drive you mad...consume your every thought," he whispered to himself.
Still intoxicated by that feeling, he arrived home and headed straight to his quarters. He showered and, afterward, collapsed onto his bed. He was soon swept away into a peaceful sleep...one filled with vivid dreams of him and Zhan, living as if they were a blissfully married couple. He didn't even reach the end of the dream before waking up, stirred by an overwhelming craving for Zhan's presence and touch.
He showered again, trying to calm his racing thoughts, then wandered outside into the garden, hands in his pockets, lost in a daze of affection and longing.
Later, back in his room, he noticed missed calls from Qiantang. He rolled his eyes and set the phone down. This time, she was going to see his true nature...the version she had never experienced. He was done pretending. He'd make it clear to her and her family where they stood.
~**~
Zhan stood in front of the mirror, holding a compact powder case, attempting to apply some to his face...but he couldn't. His hand dropped, and he just stared at his own reflection, confused by the emptiness he felt. There was no thrill about Nanjue's upcoming visit, no joy, no anticipation...even though he was the one who had agreed to it.
He slowly sank into a chair, still clutching the powder in his hand.
"Is Yibo's warning messing with your head? Is it what he said that's making you second-guess everything?" his inner voice asked. Zhan quickly shook his head.
"Don't be ridiculous. Him, who's he to command him not go out or meet anyone?" he muttered, finally dusting powder onto his face.
He sprayed a bit of cologne, pulled on a dark red jacket that brought out his features, and slipped into open-toe shoes before stepping out.
Everyone in the house was gathered in the sitting room watching TV. Aunt Anu had gone to the salon earlier. Zhan glanced at the others.
"Niu, there's food cooking in the kitchen. Check on it before I come back."
"Okay, Gege," she replied with a grin, shifting in her seat. She liked whatever she's watching on the TV.
Jianghu insisted on following him out, and though Zhan didn't really want to take him, he gave in.
Outside, Nanjue was already waiting by his car. Zhan raised an eyebrow.
"You couldn't come in?"
Nanjue smiled. "I don't know. I'm in such a good mood today, I figured I'd just enjoy the air. Should I open the car? We could sit inside."
Zhan gave him a sharp look... borderline glare.
Nanjue burst out laughing. He knew exactly what Zhan hated... talking inside the car was one of them. He only teased him because he found it amusing.
Jianghu kept them busy with his playful antics for a while until he was finally convinced to go back inside.
Once alone, Nanjue turned to Zhan with a smile. "So? What's the verdict?"
Zhan had been playing with his fingers, lost in thought during Jianghu's chatter. He looked up and smiled faintly.
"You tell me."
Nanjue straightened. "You want to know what's really going on?"
"Sure. Let's hear it."
"My mom is obsessed with meeting you. Ever since I mentioned you, she hasn't stopped talking about it. She's been waiting for me to bring home someone...especially now that I hinted there's someone I'm serious about. She's already building expectations."
Zhan gave a small smile and nodded. "Timing is everything. We'll go when it feels right."
Just then, Aunt Anu returned from the salon with her youngest child. Nanjue greeted her politely, but her face wasn't as warm as usual. She glanced at them briefly before walking past, leaving Zhan feeling a little uneasy.
That same morning, Yibo had been struggling with himself. No matter how much he tried to suppress it, he couldn't shake his intense need to see Zhan. So after a jog, he quietly instructed two of his attendants to drive him there.
As they neared the house, excitement pulsed through him. No matter what, he was going to see Zhan today. But something shifted.
His heart began to sink when he spotted Zhan standing outside... with someone else.
A fierce wave of jealousy ignited inside him, so strong it nearly stole his breath. His features hardened instantly. He told the driver to park before they reached the house and remained seated, watching them from a distance.
He took a deep breath to steady himself and motioned for his attendant not to open the door. He opened it himself and stepped out. With his hands in his pockets and his eyes locked on them, he slowly approached.
Zhan and Nanjue hadn't noticed him yet. They were deep in conversation. Zhan was answering a question that made both of them laugh.
Then Zhan looked up...and saw him.
The laughter died in his throat. His heart dropped. His knees felt weak.
He hadn't knows Yibo's face clearly..., but he knew without a doubt that the storm brewing in his expression was real.
Even Nanjue turned to look. Their eyes met. Something clicked. Nanjue had seen this man in headlines and whispers...Prince Yibo, the renowned businessman. He'd often noticed how closely the man resembled Zhan's kids.
Two things had always held him back from questioning Zhan about it: first, he feared the answer would confirm his suspicion...that Yibo was Jianghu's father. And second, if that were true, then there was no way Zhan could ever fully belong to someone else.
No man, no matter how successful, could rival Yibo. His beauty, intellect, status, wealth, and presence put him in a class of his own.
The second thing that kept nagging at Nanjue was the memory that, originally, Zhan had been forced into the marriage. And frankly, he didn't believe any man would be coerced into marrying someone like Yibo...Prince of Tianjin. The very idea that someone called their union a "forced marriage" sounded absurd.
Yibo was the kind of man admired by a sea of women...hoping for even a fleeting glance, let alone marriage. Some would have settled for just being his friend, but never even got that chance. And Nanjue couldn't believe that someone like Yibo...who had the power, status, and means to marry any kind of woman he desired, from any ethnicity or background...would ever marry someone he didn't truly love or want.
These thoughts circled Nanjue's mind, always returning him to the same conclusion: there was no real bond between Zhan and Yibo..just a striking resemblance between Zhan's twins and Yibo, which he chalked up to coincidence. As people often said, every person has at least 70 lookalikes in the world.
Yibo gave Nanjue one sharp look, and Nanjue immediately felt his blood run cold. The stare alone forced him into silence. Yibo finally spoke...his voice low, authoritative, and chilling:
"I don't want to hurt you mister. But don't let me see you at this door five minutes from now."
Without waiting for a reaction, he grabbed Zhan's hand and pulled him away.
Zhan immediately struggled, snapping, "Let me go!" But Yibo didn't even glance back. He dragged him straight to the car, gave a silent command to the attendants, and had them unlock the vehicle and leave the keys in the ignition.
He pushed Zhan into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut, then walked around to the driver's side and started the car. Without a word, he took off at an intense speed that made Zhan nervous.
They drove for about thirty minutes before Yibo slammed the brakes suddenly, startling Zhan again. He didn't turn off the car, just turned toward Zhan with a storm behind his eyes. His whole body radiated heat...like he was burning from the inside...but he was trying hard to control his temper.
Zhan turned away from the intensity of his stare. Then, in a defiant tone, he muttered:
"Where are you even taking me? Take me back or open the door and let me out!"
Yibo stayed silent for a moment, visibly calming himself down before speaking in a voice that was both icy and smoldering:
"You clearly don't know who I am, Zhan. And I see that now. I can accept a lot....but mocking or disrespecting our marriage isn't one of them. You let your pride react today, fine. But don't insult the bond we had… the bond I still honor.
If I wanted to, I could've taken you to a place no one would ever find you. You're mine, after all. But I didn't...because I'm not here to dominate you. I want you to choose me again, freely, with forgiveness in your heart. But let me make this clear...
If I ever catch anyone else around you pretending they're something more than they are, I'll make sure they disappear...quietly and permanently."
Zhan felt those words down to his bones. There was no doubt Yibo was capable of doing exactly what he said...maybe more. But he wasn't about to show weakness.
With a sneer, he snapped, "Is that because you're powerful? Rich? Privileged? Who do you think you are?"
Yibo didn't answer. Instead, he gave a slight, knowing smirk, eyes fixed on the road. He did a sharp U-turn, returning to the route they had come from. The only thing he said after that, in a quiet tone, was:
"Time will tell. Take it easy, young man."
Back at Aunt Anu's house, Yibo pulled over and Zhan stepped out of the car without a word or a backward glance. Yibo watched him walk away, then leaned back in his seat, chest heaving, heart burning with frustration. The ache in his chest was real. He exhaled, turned the wheel, and drove off slowly.
Zhan stepped into the sitting room and found Aunt Anu standing there, clearly waiting for him.
"Where did you go?" she asked sharply. "I sent someone to the gate to find you, and they said you weren't there. Nanjue's car wasn't in front either."
He froze, caught off guard. He had no idea what to say or how to explain.
"He's back?" came a voice from upstairs...Papa's voice. Aunt Anu turned to look.
"Yes, here he is."
Papa descended the stairs, holding some papers.
"Zhan, head to the guest sitting room. You have a visitor," he said calmly.
"A visitor?" Zhan echoed in his thoughts, puzzled. He had seen some luxury cars parked outside but never imagined they were for him. Who would come visit me unannounced? From where? And why?
Still filled with unease, he turned around and walked toward the guest sitting room, his heart filled with questions and a growing sense of dread.
Zhanxianyibo💚❤️💛