Chapter 16: Wei Jian

Saturday morning arrives and I’m not going anywhere.

At least, not to the Wuchen estate.

By 7:30 AM, I’m standing in a small tailor shop a few blocks from the house. The kind of place that does alterations for wedding guests, fixes hems, nothing fancy.

It’s the first time I’ve left my room in four days, and the morning air feels strange against my skin. Too bright, too real.

The beta behind the counter looks half-asleep. "Bit early."

"I need measurements for a suit."

He yawns and pulls out a measuring tape. "Wedding?"

"Groomsman."

"Ah." He gestures for me to stand properly. "Arms out."

The whole thing takes less than ten minutes. Chest, waist, inseam, sleeve length. He writes everything down on a slip of paper in neat handwriting and hands it to me.

"That’ll be fifteen yuan."

I pay and leave.

Outside, I photograph the measurements and send them to Bael.

*Me: My measurements. I’m not coming to the estate.*

I’m halfway down the block when my phone buzzes.

*Cheating Bastard: Avoiding me?*

I stare at the message for a long moment.

Then I turn my phone off.

***

I don’t go home.

The thought of walking back into that house, facing Mother’s questions or Feifei’s concern, makes my skin crawl. So I walk. Aimless, nowhere specific, just moving.

The neighborhood is quiet this early. A few people heading to work, shop owners opening up for the day. I pass a park where an old woman practices tai chi under the trees, a cat sunning itself on a low wall.

Normal, everything is so aggressively normal.

My stomach turns over.

The nausea has been bad lately, worse than it was right after the heat. Mornings especially, but it hits randomly too. Right now it’s building, that queasy tightness that says I need to eat something or it’s going to get ugly.

There’s a small convenience store up ahead, tucked between a pharmacy and a closed bakery.

I push through the door.

The air conditioning hits me immediately, too cold after the morning warmth outside. The store is nearly empty, an elderly woman browsing the medicine aisle, a beta restocking shelves near the back.

I head for the crackers, scanning the options. Plain, salted, sesame. My stomach rebels at the thought of all of them, but I grab a package anyway.

Maybe ginger tea. That’s supposed to help, right?

I’m reaching for a box when someone says my name.

"Runze?"

I freeze.

The voice is warm, slightly uncertain, like the speaker isn’t sure I’ll want to hear from him.

I turn.

A man stands at the end of the aisle. Tall, handsome in an understated way, wearing a simple jacket and jeans. Dark hair, kind eyes, an expression caught between surprise and concern.

He looks alpha at first glance, he carries himself with quiet confidence.

But something in my brain immediately corrects: Beta.

The fragmented memories stir, then—

The memories don’t just show me original Runze’s life, they pull me into it.

—crash.

***

*Wei Jian leaning over a drafting table, patient as always. "See, if you angle it like this, you get better natural light flow." His shoulder brushing mine. Two years of these moments, two years of wanting him to notice it meant something.*

*Professor Wang holding up my museum design. "This is exceptional work, Runze. You have real vision." Industry contacts, internship offers, finally being good at something. Finally being seen.*

*Mother barely glancing at my sketches. "Architecture? That’s not practical." Father already walking away. "Your sister graduated with honors in business. Why can’t you focus like her?"*

*Trying harder, showing them project after project. Look at me. Please look at me. See that I’m good at this. See that I matter.*

*They never did.*

*Feifei’s graduation. Mother and Father beaming. "Our daughter, so accomplished." The comparisons that followed like knives. "When will you take things seriously?"*

*Wei Jian, casual, over coffee. "Oh yeah, I’m seeing someone. Her name’s Lin Mei." Like it was nothing. Like it didn’t shatter everything.*

*Something breaking inside. What’s the point? Parents don’t care. Wei Jian doesn’t see me. Professor Wang’s voice on the phone, concerned. "Runze, you’re so close to finishing. Don’t throw this away." But it’s already gone.*

*Eclipse Bar. Again and again. Alphas who looked at me wrong. Fights. Arrests. Tabloid photos. "Li Family’s Wayward Son." Shame so thick I couldn’t breathe.*

*Wei Jian texting. "Where are you? We’re worried." Everyone reaching out. I ignored them all. I couldn’t face them, couldn’t face myself.*

*Six months of drowning.*

*Then three weeks ago. Wei Jian’s engagement announcement, photos of him and Lin Mei, smiling, ring visible. Girlfriend to fiance in five months.*

*The final blow.*

*Blackout drunk at Eclipse Bar. A stranger with cold gray eyes. What do I have left to lose?*

*Everything.*

***

I come back gasping.

My hand is white-knuckled on the shelf. The ginger tea box crumples in my grip, the store swims back into focus... fluorescent lights, rows of products, the hum of the refrigerator units.

Wei Jian is closer now, with concern sharp on his face.

"Hey, are you okay?" He reaches out like he might steady me. "You look really pale."

I force air into my lungs. "Fine."

"You don’t look fine." His eyes scan my face, cataloging. Dark circles, weight loss, whatever else he sees there. "Have you been sick?"

"I’m just tired."

He doesn’t believe me, I can see it in his expression.

"I’ve been trying to reach you," he says carefully. "We all have. Texts, calls..." He trails off. "Did you change your number or something?"

The messages. Original Runze ignored them out of shame, I ignored them because they were from strangers.

Except they’re not strangers anymore.

I know Wei Jian now, and know exactly what he meant to the person whose life I’m living.

"Same number," I manage. "Just busy."

"Busy." He repeats it like he’s testing the word. "Look, I get it if you need space. But we miss you. I miss you."

There’s something careful in how he says it, like he knows the words carry weight he didn’t intend.

"Maybe we could grab coffee sometime? To catch up?"

Coffee with Wei Jian.

The person Original Runze destroyed himself over.

"Maybe," I say.

He hears the lie. I watch it register in his eyes, resignation, or maybe acceptance.

"Okay." He picks up the coffee he came in for. "Well, take care of yourself, yeah?"

He pays at the counter, and before he leaves, he glances back.

"It’s good to see you, Runze."

Then he’s gone.

I stand there in the aisle, ginger tea crushed in one hand, crackers in the other.

The beta restocking shelves is staring at me.

I pay and leave.

***

I don’t remember walking home.

One moment I’m outside the convenience store, the next I’m sitting on my bedroom floor with unopened crackers beside me.

I know everything now.

Not fragments, not glimpses... Everything.

Every night Original Runze cried because his parents looked through him like furniture. Every time Professor Wang praised his work and it meant nothing because the people who mattered didn’t care. Every moment with Wei Jian where hope died a little more.

The architecture program, third year, almost finished, genuinely talented.

Professor Wang had shown his work to industry contacts.

His parents never even asked about it.

I pull open the desk drawer.

The sketches are still there, rolled up, edges worn.

I spread them out on the floor.

A commercial building with innovative flow, maximizing space and light. Residential complexes designed for efficiency and beauty, a museum with sweeping lines that integrate with the landscape instead of dominating it.

These aren’t amateur work.

They’re good. Really good.

Original Runze had genuine talent and threw it away for parents who never noticed he was starving for approval. For a beta who never saw him as more than a study partner.

He spent six months destroying himself.

And I’ve done worse in three weeks.

I fucked my sister’s fiance multiple times. Got knotted during heat. And now I’m hiding in this room while my body falls apart, pretending any of this is fixable.

The weight crashes down.

I curl forward, forehead pressed to the floor, surrounded by sketches of buildings that will never exist.

I can’t breathe past the guilt. The crushing understanding of how thoroughly I’ve destroyed what was left of this life.

Original Runze killed his own future.

I just finished the job.

Nausea slams into me without warning.

I lunge for the bathroom, vision blurring at the edges. This time my stomach doesn’t wait, what little water I’ve managed to drink today comes up in violent heaves, followed by bile that burns my throat. I’m gripping the toilet bowl, shoulders shaking, unable to stop.

When it finally ends, I’m left trembling, sour taste coating my mouth, sweat cooling on my forehead.

I stay bent over the toilet, hands gripping the porcelain, breathing hard.

The sketches are still spread across my bedroom floor.

Evidence of wasted talent. Destroyed potential.

And I can’t even cry about it.

Because these aren’t my failures.

They’re his.

I’m just the one left living with them.