The moment Miao Ruiming hung up the call from Dong Yingming, he was already halfway down the corridor, white coat fluttering behind him like a cape. His long strides were filled with purpose—his face clear and calm, though his pulse buzzed with curiosity.
"He's awake."
The boss had said.
That alone was enough to shake Miao Ruiming into motion. After all, this patient—the one with the mysterious condition, inexplicable fevers, and a miraculous recovery—was unlike anyone he had ever treated. Not since the cousin and current CEO, Yao Zizhou.
He arrived at the private recovery room in record time, clipboard tucked under one arm and a stethoscope slung around his neck.
He gently pushed open the door to the hospital room, his breath slightly caught from his rush.
And then he froze.
The room was quiet. Peaceful. Bathed in soft morning light.
And seated on the hospital bed, propped comfortably against snow-white pillows, sipping water like he belonged in a painting, was someone so luminous, so impossibly gorgeous, that Miao Ruiming's brain short-circuited.
Platinum blond hair glinted under the sunlight, fine and soft as silk.
Eyes deep as obsidian, dark and bright, framed by long lashes.
His skin was flawless, like porcelain made warm, and his smile was so gentle it could make the flowers outside the window bloom.
Miao Ruiming blinked rapidly.
'Was this the right room?'
Because there was no way this celestial being was Yao Ziyang, the disgraced corporate heir accused of embezzling charity funds. Miao Ruiming's impression of him had always been... well, poor: someone greedy, duplicitous, and cold.
But this man looked like a blessing incarnate.
'Did I get the room wrong?'
He thought with genuine panic.
'Is this someone's lover? A prince? A—'
Then he saw him—Dong Yingming, sitting beside the bed, adjusting the glass in the patient's hands, fluffing his pillow, adjusting his blanket, and quietly asking if the water was too cold. His eyes fell back to the patient, however.
The patient—
Miao Ruiming blinked.
Stared.
Then stared some more.
The man in bed looked like something from a dream. Pale skin with a luminous warmth, platinum blond hair cascading in soft layers, and dark, bottomless eyes that sparkled with amusement and sweetness as he sipped water from an ornate cup.
And that face—!
So delicate, so refined, so utterly otherworldly that for a moment, Miao Ruiming genuinely wondered if he'd really entered the wrong room. To the point he steps out to recheck the room number again.
'...This can't be Yao Ziyang.'
He thought.
'There's no way this is the same disgraced VP who embezzled charity funds. This person looks like he belongs in a painting. Or on a goddamn cloud. Just how—'
His thoughts continued wildly.
'—can someone on earth look like that? Did they pluck him from the clouds? Is he even human?'
His second racing thought came quicker and sharper:
'Wait—is that Dong Yingming? Hovering like an anxious husband?'
There was a folded blanket at his side, and an open water thermos near the bed's corner—like he'd stationed himself as full-time caregiver and refused to budge.
Miao Ruiming's third thought hit him like a slap of cold water.
'How can someone on earth look like this… and how fast would I have to move to marry them first?'
That was about the moment Dong Yingming turned around.
He hadn't even noticed how long he'd been standing there, staring like a fool—until Dong Yingming finally glared over, narrowing his piercing blue eyes with the subtle irritation of a lion catching someone sniffing too close to his mate.
His piercing gaze landed directly on Miao Ruiming, narrow and suspicious. He didn't say anything right away. Just stared.
Then, in the most obviously fake display of casual indifference, Dong gave a deliberate cough.
"Ahem!"
He said stiffly.
"Dr. Miao. What are you doing just standing there? Are you going to examine him?"
The room had gone quiet after Dong Yingming's sharp cough, a pointed sound that cut through Miao Ruiming's moment of stunned admiration.
Still standing in the doorway, Miao Ruiming looked like someone who had just stumbled into a heavenly vision. His usually sharp and composed expression was utterly derailed, his cool, noble bearing cracking at the seams as he stared at the ethereal figure nestled on the hospital bed.
Miao Ruiming blinked rapidly and cleared his throat.
"Ah—yes. Of course."
He stepped in, forcing his brain to shift from ethereal beauty, possible soulmate back into professional doctor mode. He made a note not to meet Yao Ziyang's gaze too often or too long. Yet, he found that was an impossible task.
Yao Ziyang, with his shimmering platinum-blond hair and ink-dark eyes, smiled softly at him, the sun behind casting his pale frame in a warm halo. To Miao Ruiming, it was like the celestial being on the bed was glowing—radiant and unreal.
Dong Yingming's voice cut again, low and edged:
"If you're done gawking, Dr. Miao, get in here and examine him."
That snapped Miao Ruiming back into motion. He cleared his throat, stepped in properly, and bowed his head lightly in greeting.
"I—ah. I apologize for my delay."
He said with a tight, embarrassed smile. Then, straightening his posture, he turned to the luminous man with a slightly stiff but sincere expression and introduced himself—
—or tried to.
"I'm Miao Ruiming, thirty-seven, six feet tall. I graduated top of my class in both Western and Eastern medical sciences. My specialties include rare illnesses, neurological studies, and herbal pharmacology. I've published twenty-three papers, been a keynote speaker at—ah—at multiple conferences. I enjoy reading, mountain hiking, and making soup. I… dislike overly oily food, people who leave their socks on the floor, and being told to rest."
There was a pause.
Then another.
The air hung, almost reverent.
Dong Yingming's brow twitched.
"Are you proposing marriage, Doctor?"
Miao Ruiming blinked, immediately realizing what he had just rattled off.
"Ah. No! That—No! Sorry! I— I was trying to introduce myself as a doctor, not a... dating candidate."
Yao Ziyang, meanwhile, maintained a perfectly placid and polite expression, but inside—he was screaming.
'This is Miao Ruiming?!'
He recognized the name the moment it was spoken, but seeing him in person was another matter entirely. The book hadn't mentioned anything about those piercing steel-gray eyes or the elegant ponytail trailing over his shoulder. Nor did it do justice to the refined angles of his face, or the way his long coat fluttered like robes of a celestial physician.
'Why is he so hot in person?!'
Yao Ziyang's gaze subtly scanned the length of him—shoulders broad, posture poised with a natural grace, hands precise and steady. His voice, even when flustered, carried calm confidence.
He had that perfect balance of a scholar and a warrior. Gentle but unshakable. Strong but warm.
'Mother would've schemed to have him in other's bed just for his looks if he were in the harem.'
Yao Ziyang's lip curled into a smile. His mind, still tinted by the remnants of a world he'd left behind, wandered.
In his first life, his mother—a wise, vicious, and beautiful Omega—used to tell him stories. He remembered one particular legend his mother told him when he was young. Her voice, gentle and honeyed, laced with danger.
"Once upon a time, long ago,…"
She'd said, coiling his long silvery hair with her pale fingers.
"Alpha's once ruled and held all the power. They could mark as many Omega's as they wanted, build harems, and wield their strength like kings. But one day, a God, passing through the mortal realm, saw this injustice. Saw the cruelty of imbalance, and poured their strength into the Omega's, giving us power. Omega's changed since then. Evolved.To bite back…"
"…The scales tipped…"
She had whispered with a cunning smile.
Since waking up, Yao Ziyang's memories have slowly become clearer.
'In my old world… alphas ruled everything. The bloodlines of kings, generals, and nobles were lined with the powerful scent of superiority, and omegas were expected to be passive, yielding—prized for their fertility and fragility.
But the world changed. A so-called OmegaGod, moved by the imbalance, gave us, Omega's, a chance—a new strength, the ability to bite back, to form bonds on our own terms. To build harems of our own. At least that's what's been told to me, an Omega, since childhood. Who knows the real reason for this change, but boy, did it cause so many conflicts! Maybe it's a good thing this world doesn't have secondary genders. Hmm? That scent...no... nevermind.'
His mother was an Omega who was in a harem but she ruled it like her own. Even adding her own Alpha's to it.
She had schemed and whispered and smiled while poisoning her rivals. She had tamed even the cruelest Alpha's with a flutter of lashes and a sharpened tongue. Eventually, she'd risen to the top of her harem, wielding power with silk-gloved fingers.
To her, being in a harem was like a game… oh, how masterfully she'd played the game.
His mother had done it all and crawled her way to the top and ruled like an empress. One by one, the favored Omega's had disappeared—some outmaneuvered, some broken, some conveniently poisoned. In the end, she alone sat at the top. Regal. Untouchable.
She taught him that affection could be earned, manipulated, nurtured—but it was the favor of the one in charge that solidified status.
She used to say: "Never compete like a jealous lover—win like a queen choosing his king."
Yao Ziyang's eyes lit up.
'I guess it's fine if Brother Dong wants multiple partners, but if I'm going to be in a harem…'
He mused to himself.
'I want to be the one in charge. The Head Wife, like mother taught me. How can I lose out to those seven men? I'm strong. Beautiful. Daring. Perfect! Humph!'
"It's very nice to meet you, Dr. Miao."
He said softly without much thought. His voice was as gentle as mountain spring water.
Miao Ruiming's ears turned pink again. He had to stop himself from visibly swaying.
Dong Yingming, seated close by and observing this interaction like a storm cloud preparing to break, exhaled sharply through his nose. He looked between them once, then flatly interjected.
"You're not here to space out. You're here to work."
Miao Ruiming, startled again, bowed quickly.
"Of course. Apologies. I'll keep this quick—just a basic checkup."
He snapped open the file folder tucked under his arm, trying to regain composure, but couldn't help glancing again at Yao Ziyang.
Yao Ziyang sat with that same poised elegance, hands folded delicately in his lap, a soft tilt to his head as he observed Miao Ruiming with curious interest.
And next to him, Dong Yingming watched both of them—his jaw tight, one arm slung casually across the back of Yao Ziyang, his body language screaming mine even without a word. He moved only slightly aside but stayed right by the bed, eyes trained on every move Miao Ruiming made, as if daring him to even graze Yao Ziyang the wrong way.
Yao Ziyang sipped more water and peeked up at Dong Yingming with open affection.
"Brother Dong, you don't have to stand over me like that."
"I'm not moving…"
Dong Yingming muttered.
"You're still recovering."
"I'm sipping water."
"It could go down the wrong pipe."
Miao Ruiming nearly smiled but caught himself. He couldn't lie—watching the deadly Dong Yingming fumble around his radiant patient with all the focus of a doting husband was deeply amusing. And, honestly, kind of enviable.
Still, he kept his tone even.
"Vitals first."
"Do it quickly."
Dong Yingming said flatly, scooting half an inch closer to the bed in a movement that was both casual and blatantly territorial.
"He's been waiting."
Meanwhile, Yao Ziyang looked between them with a faint blush, intentionally oblivious to the tension. He lifted the glass again and took a delicate sip, eyes sparkling as he glanced up at the man beside him.
"I only just woke up, though."
He said softly.
"Aren't you being too mean? Or is it that you're jealous?"
Dong Yingming glanced at him, startled—and then quickly turned away, muttering something under his breath about "thinking too much."
Yao Ziyang giggled, nestling more deeply into the pillows as he let the warmth of the sun hit his face. He looked radiant. Content. Adored.
Miao Ruiming, clipboard forgotten in hand, stole another glance at the way Dong Yingming adjusted the corner of the blanket again. It was clinical. Doting. Possessive.
'Definitely like a husband…'
He thought.
'And definitely dangerous. Of course he's already taken. The most beautiful person I've ever seen—and the scariest man in the country got to him first.'
Clearing his throat again, Miao Ruiming stepped forward.
"May I?"
He asked, gesturing toward Yao Ziyang as he donned his gloves, placing the clipboard on the side table.
"Just your hands…"
Dong Yingming muttered.
"Nothing else."
Yao Ziyang gave another quiet laugh, amused.
"Don't worry. He doesn't bite."
Dong Yingming's eye twitched. Miao Ruiming didn't comment.
But inside, he was more intrigued than ever—not just by Yao Ziyang's bizarre condition, or the impossible scent he swore he'd caught a trace of when walking through the doorway…
…but by the question he now couldn't shake:
Just who exactly is Yao Ziyang?
And why, even as a doctor, did he feel like something more than human was lying in this bed?
As Miao Ruiming leaned in to begin his exam, he had to once again silently curse. It was a fact that he wasn't a man easily distracted—but this patient, this Yao Ziyang, seemed to defy logic, decorum, and even medicine.
And as Dong Yingming loomed just inches away, protective to the core, Miao Ruiming couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
The air in the room had gone from soft and warm to cold and harsh. Still, the morning light bathed the white sheets and glinted along Yao Ziyang's platinum-blond hair, casting a halo-like glow over his delicate features. He lay comfortably against the propped pillows, calm and content, while Dong Yingming hovered nearby like a shadow that refused to leave.
Miao Ruiming sat on the stool beside the bed on the other side, expression cool and focused as he gently took Yao Ziyang's wrist in his gloved hand. He moved with quiet confidence, hands steady, voice composed, trying to get through the usual checks—heartbeat, reflexes, breathing, blood pressure. Everything so far was not just normal… it was exceptional. Yao Ziyang's vitals were pristine.
It was almost eerie.
'His condition has improved faster than any recovery I've seen since Yao Zizhou…'
Miao Ruiming thought as he gently adjusted the collar of the hospital gown.
'Almost unnaturally so.'
Dong Yingming sat just in front of the doctor's vision, arms crossed, but his eyes never left Miao Ruiming's hands.
Too close.
Too familiar.
Too calm.
Yao Ziyang, however, remained the very image of innocence.
"Dr. Miao, did you sleep well last night?"
He asked cheerfully, voice light like the morning breeze drifting in from the window.
Miao Ruiming smiled politely without looking up, afraid he may lose the composure he'd just got back.
"Not as well as you seem to have, Mr. Yao. Your complexion has improved overnight. The sheen in your eyes is clearer. Heart rate steady. Breathing rhythmic. Skin temperature normalized."
"You make it sound like I was a walking corpse yesterday."
Yao Ziyang joked, setting his glass down with a quiet clink.
"You practically were."
Dong Yingming muttered under his breath.
Miao Ruiming raised an eyebrow at that, then placed a hand lightly on Yao Ziyang's chest—over the heart—to listen with his stethoscope.
That was when Dong Yingming's restraint nearly snapped.
He could almost hear the possessive instinct roar in his blood. His hands itched at his sides. For a second, he envisioned grabbing Miao Ruiming by the collar and hurling him across the room. Or at the very least, forcing him to wear a blindfold for the rest of the examination.
But Yao Ziyang just looked up at him sweetly and said:
"Don't glare so hard. You're going to wrinkle early."
Dong Yingming blinked.
"I'm not glaring."
"You're definitely glaring."
Yao Ziyang said, smiling gently, his tone teasing.
Miao Ruiming, amused but wise enough not to comment, continued his examination. He checked the boy's joint mobility, and even pulled up the sleeves of the hospital gown and robe to inspect his upper arms for any unusual rash or swelling.
"Are you feeling any lingering dizziness, nausea, or burning in your limbs?"
He asked as he pulled down the sleeves of Yao Ziyang's robe carefully.
"Nope!"
Yao Ziyang chimed.
"Just a craving for something sweet. Is that a symptom?"
"It can be…"
Miao Ruiming replied lightly, finishing his notes.
"Or it could be that your body is recovering and wants a reward."
"I'd like pudding!"
Yao Ziyang announced with a soft smile, looking to Dong Yingming expectantly.
Dong Yingming blinked, then smiled dotingly.
"You're seriously asking for dessert after almost dying?"
Yao Ziyang shrugged, tugging at the covers while pouting his plump lips for extra effectiveness.
"Almost dying is exactly why I deserve pudding."
Dong Yingming exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"As soon as I can, I'll get you a pudding. Finish the examination first."
"Alright, I'll listen to you, Boss."
Yao Ziyang quipped, eyes glinting playfully.
Miao Ruiming smirked faintly but said nothing.
Then, as he shifted slightly to inspect the back of Yao Ziyang's neck, he paused.
'...Warm.'