A few short words ignited the last of An Xun’s anger, prompting him to sit up in anger and say, “When did I ever act like a child? Isn’t this the scenario you wanted to see? Isn’t your cold demeanor these past few days just for show? When I don’t hide, you ignore me, but when I do, you’re unhappy.”

“I’ve done everything you asked, and in the end, you’re still not happy and take your anger out on me,” An Xun said, feeling wronged. “I ask you, and you won’t say anything, just ‘Hmm’ or ‘Don’t overthink it,’ making me feel like I’m just some disposable object to you. I don’t know why you suddenly stopped playing along, but I can feel that you don’t want to see me, that you despise me. You’re high above, I eat your food, drink your drinks, I can’t provoke you, but at least I can still avoid you.”

“If you’re truly sick of me, if every second with me is torture for you, give me a sign. I’ll swiftly move to the guest room, avoid seeing you, or I could even stay at a hotel. You don’t need to worry about Grandma’s matters; with the experience from the first time, I can manage her.”

An Xun felt somewhat better after getting everything off his chest.

The other person took in his expression, finding it hard to distinguish the true from the false. An Xun’s acting was something he had seen before, more skilled than popular young actors in the entertainment industry. He could easily read his business rivals’ minds but could never see through An Xun, still unaware of the reasons behind his deceit.

An Xun slightly turned his head away, avoiding his gaze, and said, “See, you’re not speaking again. You just dislike me and don’t want to be with me anymore. Don’t bother asking if I’m hungry. My stomach says it’s not.”

Perhaps it was the age and experience gap that made him see An Xun like a reckless, young child.

It seemed absurd to him that he, the one being deceived and kept in the dark, should feel this way. Every word An Xun had ever said lost credibility in his eyes. The words ‘I miss you’ were merely lip service. An Xun had the courage and the scheming, such a personality wouldn’t just cry so pitifully for no reason.

Faced with workplace bullying, taking the risk of being fired just to get revenge showed his fearlessness. How could he then be afraid of the An family and Liu Tang?

…He was setting a trap somewhere for him.

The bedroom fell silent once again, an eerie quiet settling between them.

An Xun was the first to break, coldly burrowing into the covers to sleep.

Bo Xiangzhou stared at him for a full minute before walking away. From dusk till deep into the night, he didn’t step into the room again.

An Xun was furious, unable to eat anything, the smell of food making him nauseous. He wanted to confide in Tao Nian, but was mindful of his friend’s feelings. He had been too busy these days, just lying down as soon as he got home. Sharing more bad news would just be an extra burden.

He tossed aside his phone and slowly drifted off to sleep amidst his chaotic thoughts.

At midnight, Bo Xiangzhou quietly returned to the bedroom. An Xun, troubled by his thoughts, slept even more soundly than usual. He didn’t feel the alpha’s hand slipping under the covers, slowly lifting half his face to change his face-down sleeping position to one on the side.

The omega’s sleeping face was peaceful, his comfortable breathing seemingly able to calm the inner turmoil and anger. Despite seeing it many times, he still couldn’t match the real An Xun with the face before him.

He did care, otherwise, he wouldn’t keep checking, over and over, if those adorable, foolish actions were all an act.

An Xun mumbled something in his sleep, shoulders tensing slightly.

He couldn’t make out the beginning of the sentence, but clearly heard the last word “husband,” causing his heartbeat to skip. He suddenly realized that sitting here worrying over romantic issues seemed like a foolish act.

Bo Xiangzhou took only a second to pack away all outward emotions, pretending as usual, undressed, turned off the light, and went to bed.

The next day, An Xun woke up early and didn’t see Bo Xiangzhou at the breakfast table. Uncle Liu approached him worriedly, asking if something had happened.

He took a sip of porridge and smiled, looking at him for a few seconds before lowering his head quickly, “No, Uncle Liu, are you perhaps overthinking it? My… husband and I are doing fine.”

His eyes lacked any hint of joy, and the once easily uttered nickname now felt strangely alien.

Uncle Liu, concerned by age and deeply caring, probed further, “Really? Madam, you’ve been eating less obviously, you weren’t like this before. I think if there’s something troubling between two people living together, it’s better to talk it out.”

He wished he could talk it out more than anyone, but Bo Xiangzhou didn’t give him that chance, always keeping things bottled up inside.

A bitter feeling rose in his heart, and An Xun responded with a smile, “No, it’s just my stomach acting up lately, probably my old problem flaring up. The medication I’m taking can reduce appetite, so that’s why I haven’t been eating well.”

Uncle Liu always believed him, “That’s good then. President Bo said he has to travel for work again soon, twice in one month, that’s never happened before. It scared me; I thought something happened between you two. I was almost about to tell the Old Madam.”

“Uncle Liu, with Grandma’s health, it’s better not to mention things that aren’t confirmed in the future, she can’t handle it. At her age, she needs to hear happy things.”

“That’s true,” Uncle Liu agreed, then remembered something else, “Madam, your birthday is in half a month, how do you want to celebrate it?”

What’s there to celebrate in this situation, as if it’s not miserable enough.

An Xun replied, “Whatever, I have no preferences, anything is fine as long as it’s not too lively. I don’t like it to be like a business banquet.”

“Then it will just be a simple family gathering. Alright, I’ll ask President Bo later about the arrangements.”

An Xun quietly acknowledged with a ‘good’.

·

He knew Bo Xiangzhou hadn’t gone on a business trip. The bedroom was missing some daily necessities, he figured the other party had gone somewhere to avoid him.

He knew if he left, he could only go to Tao Nian’s place; even in a high-end hotel, an omega like him, despite all his capabilities, was still at risk of being followed, tracked, or having his door broken into in the middle of the night.

His heart stirred, he wanted to mend their relationship, began recalling all interactions from their first meeting, trying to take all the blame onto himself, but after a whole day of thought, it came to nothing.

He couldn’t pinpoint any mistakes, except for not coming home one night.

In his heart, Bo Xiangzhou wasn’t the petty type, unlikely to give him the cold shoulder over something so trivial. But aside from that incident, nothing else seemed to fit their situation.

He logged onto a popular social networking platform and registered a new account. Then, he tagged a few labels and posted a question on “how to appease an arranged marriage partner,” seeking the vast internet community’s assistance.

After a few hours, the post sank like a stone with no response.

An Xun’s heart cooled by half, but undeterred, he posted the same question again, this time paying for official promotion.

However, the results weren’t significant, the incoming suggestions from netizens were more absurd than helpful, mentioning unattainable advice like “seduction, offering oneself up” and the like.

His eyes turned red from strain, the area around his eyes sore. He sifted through over a thousand comments, and by the end, his eyes were blurry, with only a few comments worth considering.

He dared not disturb Bo Xiangzhou, staring at his profile picture for a long time, then pressed on the chat box among a few options and selected “Delete this chat.”

Better not to look, for looking only made him think more.

He returned a few commonly used emoticons to Tao Nian, then opened the alt account’s social feed. After relations with Bo Xiangzhou soured, he hadn’t logged into the alt account.

The alt account was for work, used to add acquaintances and applicants, its friends neither important nor essential, disposable upon resignation. The boss hadn’t asked for the work account back, and now it seemed abandoned, only logged in to reply to messages when someone contacted him.

The alt account had many friends; at least dozens of social updates a day, including embarrassing moments, but An Xun didn’t share the joy brought by the words. Instead, his heart grew colder.

Days seemed to stretch long, and only now did he understand what it meant to feel like years were passing each day.

His demanding former boss had another daughter, his ex-colleague, front desk Li, married his childhood friend, and Deadbeat announced his love for a beautiful omega.

The beauty filter was turned up too high, the picture had clearly been edited by two people; if not for the caption, he wouldn’t have recognized who it was. Deadbeat’s broad face was altered to a delicate one, and the omega looked familiar, but he couldn’t recall who it was.

He exited the enlarged photo, liked it, and scrolled down.

A pressure cooker ad separated it from the next update, which was from Meng Xiao.

The time gap between the two updates wasn’t short, and they weren’t much related in content.

He still remembered Meng Xiao’s obsession with Deadbeat. Reading his text once, he understood the implication of scolding the sang while pointing at the mulberry.

It appeared he was venting about a pet on the surface, but he was actually criticizing the colleague who took over his position. It seemed they didn’t get along well, and according to him, this colleague wasn’t very dedicated, never worked overtime, and was even harder to bully than him.

He checked all the social updates Meng Xiao posted after he left, which seemed to be complaints, with one even ending with a statement wishing for the previous one back.

He missed him.

He wondered if he could still get along with Deadbeat at the company. Now that the alpha he licked was someone else’s partner, with his temperament, he would probably go mad.

An Xun’s lips curved in a slight smile and replied with a “Did you block your boss yet?” then switched accounts to sleep.