In another life, maybe he could've leaned forward. Whispered that someone already wanted him. That someone already stayed.
But here?
Here, silence was the only thing he could give.
So he gave it.
And stayed.
...
The morning passed slowly— the kind of stillness that made time feel stretched—like the day itself didn't know how to move forward. Light filtered in through the barred window in soft ribbons of pale gold, warming the edge of the bed where Yao Ziyang lay tucked beneath a cotton blanket.
He had woken slowly, the kind of waking that drifted somewhere between sleep and dream. His body still felt light, fragile, as if his soul hadn't fully caught up with his limbs.
He blinked at the ceiling.
The air was still. His temperature was still on the high side but steadily going down. There were signs of recovery.
And then he turned his head.
Wei Jiang was there, seated by the bed, the way he always seemed to be — still as stone, dressed in the same uniform, arms folded across his chest. But something was different today. Not in his posture. In his eyes.
He was watching Yao Ziyang not like a guard watching a patient, but like a man waiting to be seen.
Yao Ziyang's voice was soft.
"You're here again."
Wei Jiang gave a slight nod.
"Didn't go far."
A pause.
Yao Ziyang pulled the blanket a little tighter around himself.
"You're always here… but I don't know your name."
Wei Jiang looked at him for a long moment, as though weighing something invisible in the air.
Then he stood.
Crossed to the edge of the bed.
And knelt — not dramatically, not ceremoniously. Just quietly, like someone wanting to be closer.
"I'm Wei Jiang."
He said at last.
"Head of internal operations. Assigned to your care."
Yao Ziyang studied his face. There were shadows under his eyes now — not only from fatigue, but from holding too much in for too long. Yao Ziyang reached out a trembling hand and slowly rubbed under dark chocolate eyes as if trying to erase the darkness away.
"You've been taking care of me all this time… and never said anything?"
"I speak when needed…"
Wei Jiang replied simply.
"I didn't want to overwhelm you."
Yao Ziyang blinked.
"You're not overwhelming."
Wei Jiang's lips twitched — not quite a smile, but something in his face softened. He looked down for a moment, then back at him.
"Last night, you said you didn't want to be alone…"
He said quietly.
Yao Ziyang froze.
Wei Jiang didn't press. He didn't mock. He didn't ask Yao Ziyang to repeat it.
Only said:
"You aren't alone."
Yao Ziyang's eyes glistened at the edges. Whether from shame or relief, even he didn't know.
"I thought I was…"
He whispered.
Wei Jiang shook his head.
"You're not."
And for a moment, the silence between them wasn't empty. It was full — of the things neither of them knew how to say yet.
Yao Ziyang lowered his eyes.
"Thank you… Wei Jiang."
Wei Jiang stood, not to put distance between them, but to preserve dignity.
He straightened his jacket and said, with a steadiness that belied the heat slowly blooming in his chest. There was so much he wished to say in that moment:
"If you ever need to talk, I'll be here."
"Ifyou chose me, I promise I'd never make you cry."
"Iwant you more than he does."
But unfortunately, he knew better and chose to reply with a simple.
"You're welcome, Yao Ziyang."
And somehow, those words meant more than a thousand declarations ever could.
Wei Jiang sat back in the chair by the bed, quietly watching Yao Ziyang, who hadn't said much since thanking him. Dr. Zhang stopped by to administer the medicine, acupuncture and message treatment as well as get an update on Yao Ziyang's current health status.
The whole time, Yao Ziyang gave curt and short responses. Afterward, when breakfast was served, he'd eaten a few bites of food with Wei Jiang's help, then refused to eat anymore.
The air was warm, but Yao Ziyang lay still beneath his blanket, curled slightly toward the wall, his brows furrowed even in rest.
But no light had returned to his eyes.
Something heavy lingered in his eyes. Not fever. Not pain.
Something else.
Wei Jiang watched him quietly from his seat, his hands folded over one knee, back straight as ever. He'd seen wounds before — broken bones, split skin, fevered bodies—but the ache written into Yao Ziyang now was different. Subtle. Harder to soothe.
Wei Jiang stood and approached slowly, careful not to disturb the fragile stillness between them.
Yao Ziyang didn't look up.
Wei Jiang crouched slightly, keeping his voice low.
"You're quiet."
He said softly.
A pause.
"I'm fine."
Yao Ziyang murmured, too quickly.
"You're not…"
Wei Jiang said gently.
"What's wrong?"
The silence stretched, Yao Ziyang didn't respond at first. Then, without looking at him:
"I saw something last night."
Wei Jiang's brow twitched. He crouched near the bed, lowering his voice.
"What did you see?"
Finally, Yao Ziyang rolled over just enough to look at him. He blinked slowly.
"I was sneaking around. Looking for… him."
There was no need to say who "him" was. His lips trembled before he could steady them.
"I bumped into Chang Xiao—the guard with the tattoos on his right arm and a scar over his left brow. He dropped some files."
Wei Jiang's expression stiffened, just barely. His brows knit slightly.
"What files?"
"Pictures of other men. Those men…"
Yao Ziyang said, eyes glistening again.
"Seven of them. Young. Soft. Some, I think, are even better looking than me..."
Yao Ziyang let out a small, bitter laugh.
"I thought maybe I meant something. But I guess I'm just one of a collection. Maybe he's already looking for someone else while I'm in here… 'healing'."
Wei Jiang was quiet for a long time. His chest sank, the realization hitting with a quiet finality.
'He thinks the boss is replacing him.'
Yao Ziyang looked away.
"I knew he was only playing with me. I just… I thought maybe I was special. But he's already picking someone new. While I'm still here. Like I'm—discarded goods."
Wei opened his mouth to correct him.
Then stopped.
Because a part of him—the part buried deepest—believed it.
Believed that Dong Yingming didn't know how to care without destroying. That he'd chew up Yao Ziyang's softness until there was nothing left but ash and apology. That what the boss gave wasn't love—it was a passing interest, passed from one fragile boy to the next.
So Wei Jiang said nothing.
Somewhere deep down, Wei Jiang felt guilty, yet hopeful. Because the truth behind Yao Ziyang's sadness was: Dong Yingming's affections were like storms. They never stayed long. And when they passed, they left nothing standing. He could then step in and add something to that nothingness. Slowly but surely.
Wei Jiang stood, crossed the bed, and knelt beside the chair. He reached for the bag he'd left tucked near it and came back to the bedside with the bag.
"I brought you something."
He said quietly, his voice soft.
Yao Ziyang blinked and glanced up as Wei Jiang sat down again, placing the worn bag in his lap. Inside were three slim books, all creased and smudged at the edges.
Colorful covers. One bookcover is soft pink, with an illustration of two boys leaning into each other in the rain. Another was tucked underneath — more well-worn, a dog-eared classic, the kind guards passed between each other in secret. The last had boys drawn with luminous eyes in slightly scandalous poses. Most likely under an 18+ smut tag.
"BL books?"
Yao Ziyang said, confused.
Wei Jiang nodded.
"You asked for something light last night. I thought it might help distract you…a love story that is…"
For the first time that day, Yao Ziyang gave a genuine reaction: a short breath of laughter, half-surprised.
Yao Ziyang took them gently, fingers brushing the edges as he thumbed through one. His brows rose slightly in surprise, the corner of his lips twitching faintly.
"You really found these just for me?"
Wei Jiang didn't answer. He didn't have to.
Yao Ziyang stared at the covers for a long time. Then, softly:
"Thank you, Wei Jiang."
He said his name like it was a comfort. Not a title. Not a warning. Wei Jiang swallowed the lump in his throat.
"You can call me Brother Wei."
Yao Ziyang didn't answer. But he didn't turn away either. The stillness between them felt a little less heavy now.
Until—
Clack.
Just then, the door clicked open.
Chen Bo stepped in with a yawn and a half-hearted salute, holding a thermos of tea in one hand.
"Look at you, still on duty like a loyal dog. Thought I'd balance the scales and take the day shift since you, our dear Mr. Wei snatched mine last night."
He said with a little wave.
Wei Jiang didn't move at first but then stood up unwillingly.
"Fine."
Chen Bo's eyes flicked to the books in Yao Ziyang's lap. His smirk widened. Yao Ziyang turned red immediately and hid the BL books under his blanket like a child caught with candy.
"Oh-ho. Look what we've got here…"
Chen Bo gave an exaggerated wink as he teased.
"Aww, how romantic! Trading in military manuals for smut? Nothing like some soft boys loving each other to heal a broken heart."
Wei Jiang turned sharply toward him.
"Enough."
Chen Bo held up his hands, clearly amused.
"Relax. Just saying it's obvious. The way you look at him."
Chen Bo said with a shrug.
Wei Jiang said nothing. Just walked past him to the door.
"Don't worry, I won't tattle about your little literary offering…"
Chen called over his shoulder.
"And I won't tell the boss his dog's starting to bark for someone else."
Wei Jiang took one step toward him. Chen Bo raised an eyebrow waiting in anticipation for some more amusement.
Wei Jiang's voice dropped.
"If you speak to him like that again, I'll take your next shift too. And the one after that. And if you breathe a word of any of this to the boss, I'll say you were the one who brought the books in and made him cry."
Chen Bo held up his hands, throughly amused.
"Alright, alright. I get it."
Then, as he leaned in close with an easy smile that didn't quite reach his honey-brown eyes:
"You're not exactly subtle, you know. You look at him like he's made of glass and you're afraid your hands were meant for breaking."
Wei Jiang didn't respond.
Chen Bo let out a low whistle, then added with a grin.
"Just don't forget—glass cuts when it shatters."
And with that, he slid down into the chair next to the bed and propped up his feet against the nightstand, already acting as though he'd been there all day.
Wei Jiang lingered a moment longer, eyes on Yao Ziyang—who had gone quiet again, clutching the books against his thigh under the covers.
He nodded once, then turned to leave.
But as he stepped through the door, he heard Yao Ziyang whisper softly behind him:
"Thank you… for everything, Brother Wei."
Wei Jiang didn't turn around.
But he stood there for a heartbeat longer than necessary before the door closed quietly behind him.
Yao Ziyang looked down at the books again, brushing his fingers over the printed raindrops on the cover.
He wasn't sure what had just passed between them. He hoped he'd made a good impression on a future life long friend. Yao Ziyang had no shame about showing his vulnerable side, even putting it to use when the situation calls for it. Crying in front of a person can sometimes lead to a better and stronger friendship…right?
Well, he could worry about that later. Judging by the constant surveillance, he felt this wouldn't be the last time he sees Wei Jiang again. Plus there are more pressing issues at hand. BL! How long has it been since he could last read a decent BL story? Far too long is the answer!
'Ah, let's forget all those earthly struggles and heartache and dive into men loving on men!'
The soft rustling of pages was the only sound in the cell after Wei Jiang left.
Yao Ziyang sat cross-legged on the bed, the thick blanket draped over his legs, the dog-eared one of the BL books open in his lap. His eyes skimmed the words, but his mind couldn't help wandered—still reeling from what he saw the night before, still aching from feelings too heavy for someone so freshly ill.
The younger man, lean and relaxed in posture, leaned back in the chair, its front legs lifting from the floor, arms crossed over the top rail like he owned the room.
He grinned when he saw Yao Ziyang's ebony eyes shift to him.
"Hey. You're looking at me? Wasn't sure if you were really reading or just pretending to avoid me."
Yao Ziyang blinked slowly, shifting slightly against the pillow to better face this cheery man. His robe slid down just enough to reveal the soft curve of his collarbone.
"Ah, sorry. I was just…I didn't mean—"
Chen Bo chuckled, interrupting Yao Ziyang's stuttering attempts. With a thud, the chair landed on all fours again as Chen Bo stood and walked over to set up the cups with the thermos on the bedside table.
"I'm Chen Bo. Your knight in wrinkled armor has arrived. Just kidding! I'll be your emotional support guard for the day. Wei Jiang and I are rotating now. I usually do the night shift so that's probably why you haven't seen me much. However, that might be changing soon. But don't worry — I'm way more fun..."
He said with a casual flair, with a thermos in one hand and an energy most guards lacked entirely. He offered a mock salute and a dimpled smile, eyes shining with what looked like playful warmth.
"And best of all—I'm not as scary. Unless you try to bite."
Yao Ziyang tilted his head, uncertain. Yet another person never mentioned in the novel. Perhaps he needed to get used to it as there just seems to be too many unknown people around to keep track of.
However, this man was different. There was something disarming about this man — the way he carried himself, the way he smiled with too many teeth but not enough sincerity. But it was all cloaked in such easy charm that it was hard to know what was real.
Still, after last night, after that awful moment of thinking he'd been discarded and replaced, even a touch of warmth felt welcomed.
"I'm Yao Ziyang."
He said quietly.
"I know…"
Chen Bo said, sitting back down in the chair Wei Jiang usually occupied, abandoning the cups and thermos he'd just set up. He leaned forward with elbows on knees, voice lowered as if they were sharing a secret.
"Boss Dong doesn't usually keep anyone this close, at least alive for so long. So you must be something special."
Yao Ziyang looked down at the book in his lap, unsure what to say. Chen Bo smiled wider.
"Sorry, was that too blunt? I'm bad at soft words. But hey…"
He leaned back, stretching his arms.
"I'm good company. I brought tea, and I know how to play a mean hand of Go."
He rose from the chair and went to the small side table where Yao Ziyang's cup sat empty as if remembering what he was doing before. He picked it up and gave it a curious look, as if inspecting the quality of dishware like a host in a home far nicer than this one.
"You thirsty?"
"I'm fine…"
Yao Ziyang said softly. Then, after a beat, Yao Ziyang looked up at him, wary but curious.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
Chen Bo blinked. Then grinned.
"I like you…"
He said simply.
"You're not like the others."
Yao Ziyang furrowed his brow.
"Others?"
Chen Bo waved a hand.
"Never mind that. Let's just say prison's a lonely place. You're new light. Fragile, yeah, but… light. That counts for something."
Yao Ziyang managed a small smile, despite himself.
"You're very forward."
"I get that a lot…"
Chen Bo said with a wink.
"But I'm harmless. I promise."
That was a lie.
A kind, practiced lie.
But Yao Ziyang didn't know that yet. And Chen Bo had no intention of showing him the truth—at least, not until he wanted something more.
"You don't look like a guard."
Chen Bo turned back with a raised brow. His attention solely on the young and curious man.
"Why's that?"
"You're smiling."
Chen Bo laughed—light and easy, like a breeze through a half-open door.
"Maybe that's just because I'm happy to meet you. All I've heard is you this, you that. Like some secret prince trapped in a tower."
Yao Ziyang looked away, face warming a little.
"They exaggerate."
"I don't think so…"
Chen Bo said lightly, returning to the chair.
"I think they just don't know what to do with someone like you."
Yao Ziyang looked at him carefully this time.
There was something… off. Not wrong. Just hidden.
Chen Bo's expression was open, cheerful, casual in a way the others never were—but his eyes? They were too sharp. They watched too carefully, like someone trained to notice pressure points under silk.
Still, he didn't feel threatening. Not now.
Yao Ziyang found himself relaxing slightly despite the strange air about him.
"I didn't think anyone here wanted to be friends."
Yao Ziyang said softly. Chen Bo tilted his head.
"Why not?"
"You're all so…"
He trailed off, choosing his words.
"Distant."
Chen Bo leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.
"Let's change that, then. If you ever get bored of grumpy statues like Wei Jiang or that snake Zhao Heng, come talk to me."
Yao Ziyang didn't know what to do with this endless kindness surrounding him. He wasn't sure who this 'Zhao Heng' was, but he already considered Wei Jiang his friend. Now he had another friend, now he didn't feel so alone. A slight blush warms his cheeks, he couldn't help but avert his eyes from shyness. He fiddles through the books with idle fingers as a way to distract himself .
Beside him, Chen Bo's smile dropped the moment Yao Ziyang's head was turned.
His expression emptied out—flat, calculated, unreadable.
Colder than Wei Jiang. Colder than Zhao Heng ever had been.
But when Yao Ziyang turned back, his grin returned like it had never left.
"So…"
He said brightly, holding up a novel he snuck in from his inner jacket.
"Wanna trade BL recs? Or should I just read whatever makes you blush the most?"
Yao Ziyang flushed despite himself.
Chen Bo laughed and leaned back into the chair again, lifting it up as he kicked his legs up like they'd been friends forever.
And just like that, the cell didn't feel as lonely.
But Yao Ziyang didn't know yet—
That some wolves wear the softest wool.