Ruofei's POV:
The plane lands with a soft thump that jolts me awake.
I blink groggily, taking in the dimly lit cabin and Wenli's amused face hovering above me.
"Welcome to Korea, sleepyhead," he grins.
I groan, stretching to work out the stiffness in my back from sleeping in an awkward position. "How long was I out?"
"The entire flight. You even slept through the meal service." He stands and offers me his hand. "Come on, soulmate. We're home."
Home. The word feels strange. This isn't my home—not really. But maybe it will be, for a while at least.
I take his hand and let him pull me to my feet, swaying slightly as the blood rushes to my head.
"Whoa, easy there." Wenli steadies me with a hand on my elbow. "You okay?"
"Just dizzy," I murmur. "I'm fine."
But I'm not fine. The nausea that's been my constant companion for the past few days is back with a vengeance, and there's a strange heaviness in my limbs that has nothing to do with jet lag.
The bond, I realize. The distance from Qingyue is making it worse.
As we make our way off the plane and through the airport, I can feel Wenli watching me with concern. But he doesn't say anything, just stays close in case I need support.
The arrivals area is crowded, but I spot them immediately—Wenli's parents, standing near the exit with welcoming smiles.
Auntie looks exactly as I remember. She's Wenli's mother and my own mother's twin sister, and the resemblance is uncanny.
The same elegant features, the same warm eyes, the same presence that commands attention without trying.
Uncle stands beside her, tall and solid and radiating the kind of quiet authority that comes from years of leading one of Korea's most powerful families.
"Ruofei, darling!" Auntie's voice is warm as she pulls me into a hug. "It's so good to see you. Though I wish it were under better circumstances."
I hug her back, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. "It's good to see you too, Auntie."
She pulls back to look at me, and I see the concern in her eyes as she takes in my appearance. "You look tired, sweetie. And pale. Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm okay," I assure her. "Just the flight."
Uncle steps forward and wraps me in a gentle hug. "Good to have you here, kiddo. We'll take care of you."
"Thank you, Uncle."
As he releases me, I sway again—more pronounced this time. Uncle catches my elbow, steadying me with a frown.
"That's more than just tiredness from the flight," he observes. "When's the last time you ate?"
I try to remember. "The sandwich before we left? That was... six hours ago?"
Wenli appears at my side immediately, his arm wrapping around my waist for support. "Are the babies making trouble again?" he asks softly, voice low so only I can hear.
But Auntie has excellent hearing. Her eyes widen. "Babies?"
I feel heat rush to my cheeks as I realize what Wenli just revealed.
Uncle's expression shifts from concern to something that looks almost like horror—not at me, but at the implications of what this means.
"Yeah," I say softly, unable to keep the small smile from my face despite everything. "My beautiful little angels."
Aunt Mira's shock transforms instantly into excitement. "Oh, Ruofei! Congratulations, sweetie!" She pulls me into another hug, this one even tighter. "This is wonderful news! Twins!"
"We're not completely sure yet," Wenli cautions. "He needs an ultrasound to confirm. But based on family history and symptoms, it's likely."
Uncle recovers from his shock and smiles, though I can see the protective concern still lingering in his eyes. "Looking forward to meeting the little ones."
There's a commotion behind us, and I turn to see Chenyu emerging from where he'd been dealing with our luggage.
Li Chenyu—Wenli's husband, the man who kidnapped him and forcibly changed his secondary gender.
The man I've never quite forgiven, despite Wenli's insistence that they're happy together now.
He's tall, intimidating, with the kind of face that would be handsome if it weren't usually set in a scowl.
Right now, he looks even more severe than usual, his eyes fixed on me with an unreadable expression.
Then Wenli's words seem to register, and Chenyu's face goes completely blank.
"Babies?" he repeats, looking like someone just told him the world is ending.
Wenli laughs and mouths "later" to his husband, clearly enjoying his reaction.
Auntie is already babbling excitedly about baby plans—nursery colors, clothing, the best pediatricians in Seoul. I let her voice wash over me, finding comfort in her enthusiasm.
I lean into Wenli slightly. "Guess the secret's out."
He smirks. "Guess so, soulmate. But I told you I'd be here for you."
"Thank you, Wenli." The words feel inadequate for everything he's done, everything he's sacrificing to help me. "I'm grateful to have you by my side."
He bumps my shoulder gently. "Not sure your hubby would say the same thing."
I laugh, but the sound dies quickly as memories suddenly flood my mind.
"My princess remembers my name. Sweet. But you should start calling me hubby."
"Sit down on me."
Heat floods through me at the memory, phantom sensations ghosting across my skin.
"You're squeezing me so tight, princess."
More images rush in, fragmentary but vivid. Hands on my hips, guiding me. A voice murmuring praise. The overwhelming sense of being cherished.
"I love you, princess. I've loved you since the moment I first saw you."
Had he really said that? Or am I confusing memory with wishful thinking?
My hand goes to my nape, touching the bonding mark through my collar. It's burning—not painfully, but with an awareness I can't ignore.
I'd convinced myself it was done without consent.
That Qingyue had taken advantage of me while I was drugged and vulnerable.
But these memories... they don't feel like violation. They feel like...
Like I wanted it, I realize with growing horror. Like I asked for it.
"Ruofei?"
Wenli's voice pulls me back to the present. He's looking at me with concern, clearly having noticed the change in my expression.
I pull out my phone with trembling fingers and type quickly: Meet me in my room after everyone falls asleep. I need to talk to you in private
He reads it immediately, and though he smiles, I can see the worry in his eyes. He leans in, whispering in my ear: "Okay. I'll bring tea too."
I mouth a quiet "thanks" and move toward the car, needing the support of something solid.
Wenli opens the back door and slides in beside me, leaving Chenyu standing outside with his mouth open.
"You're leaving me for him?" Chenyu asks, glaring—though I suspect it's more playful than genuinely angry.
"Of course," Wenli replies airily, taking a bottle of water Aunt Mira hands him. "He's my soulmate, after all."
Chenyu's expression shifts into something more predatory. He leans down to whisper something to Wenli, but I hear every word.
"Alright, little devil. Just don't regret your actions later..."
Wenli's eyes widen, and he quickly pulls the door shut, leaving Chenyu outside with a shameless grin.
I watch this exchange with fascination. "Is he... usually like this?"
"Not really?" Wenli's voice is higher than normal, and his face is slightly flushed.
"You're lying, soulmate." I can't help but smile despite everything. "From what I just saw, I think Chenyu is much worse than..."
I stop, not wanting to say the name. Not wanting to think about him.
But my mind supplies it anyway: Qingyue.
"...him," I finish quietly.
Funny how the thought of carrying Qingyue's children doesn't scare me at all, even as the thought of him does.
Or does it?
The memories are making me question everything.
The drive through Seoul is beautiful, even in the fading evening light. The city is alive with lights and movement, so different from the cities I know in China but vibrant in its own way.
Auntie keeps up a steady stream of cheerful conversation from the front seat, pointing out landmarks and asking about my parents.
I answer when prompted, but my mind is elsewhere.
The memories keep surfacing, each one more vivid than the last.
Gentle hands washing my hair. A voice humming something soft and melodic.
"Rest, princess. I've got you."
Lips pressed to my forehead, tender and reverent.
"You're safe with me. Always safe."
These don't feel like the actions of someone who was taking advantage. They feel like... care. Like love.
But how much of it was real, and how much is my mind filling in blanks with what I wish had happened?
"We're here!"
Auntie's announcement pulls me from my thoughts. I look up to see we've pulled up in front of an elegant restaurant—upscale but not ostentatious, the kind of place that caters to people who value quality over showiness.
"I thought we'd go straight to the house?" I say, confused.
"Oh, we will," Aunt Mira says with a mysterious smile. "But first, there are some people who've been very eager to see you."
She leads us inside, and I realize this must be the surprise Wenli mentioned—meeting at my favorite restaurant instead of waiting until we got to the house.
We're shown to a private room in the back, and when the door opens, I see we're not alone.
A young woman jumps up from her seat, squealing with delight. "Wenli! Ruofei!"
"Minji!" Wenli laughs as his sister throws herself at him.
Minji is Wenli's younger sister—nineteen, energetic, and absolutely fearless. I haven't seen her in almost two years, since she left for university in the States.
"When did you get back?" I ask as she releases Wenli and turns to hug me.
"Last week! I wanted to surprise you both." She pulls back, looking me over with the same assessing gaze as her mother. "You look terrible, by the way. No offense."
"Some taken," I say dryly, but I'm smiling.
We settle around the table—Auntie and Uncle at the ends, Wenli and me on one side, Chenyu and Minji on the other.
A server appears to take drink orders, and I request lemon water, earning a knowing smile from Aunt Mira.
"So," Uncle says once we're alone again. "I think we need to discuss the elephant in the room."
Everyone's attention turns to me, and I feel heat rise to my cheeks.
"The pregnancy," Auntie says gently. "And why you're here instead of in China."
I take a breath, steeling myself. "What do you know already?"
"Only what Wenli told us when he called to arrange the plane," Uncle says. "That you're pregnant, that the situation is complicated, and that you needed to get out of China quickly."
Minji leans forward, eyes bright with curiosity but also concern. "Who's the father?"
"Luo Qingyue," I say quietly.
The reaction is immediate. Uncle's expression hardens. Minji's eyes widen. Even Chenyu, who's been mostly silent, sits up straighter.
"Your fiancé," Auntie says carefully. "The one your parents arranged for you."
"Yes."
"And you're running from him," Uncle observes. "Which suggests this wasn't a planned pregnancy."
"It wasn't." I look down at my hands. "I was drugged. By the Zhang family—they shot me with something that induced heat. I don't remember most of what happened that night. When I woke up, I was..." I touch my neck. "Bonded. And a week later, I found out I was pregnant."
The silence that follows is heavy.
"That bastard," Minji breathes. "He took advantage of you while you were drugged?"
"I don't know." The admission feels like defeat. "I thought so, at first. But I'm starting to remember things, and..." I trail off, unsure how to explain the confusion.
"What kind of things?" Auntie asks gently.
"Fragments. Pieces of conversation, sensations. He said..." I swallow hard. "He said he loved me. That he'd always loved me. And I—I think I said it back."
Wenli reaches over and takes my hand, squeezing gently.
"Even if you did," Uncle says firmly, "you were under the influence of a drug. You weren't in a state to consent to bonding."
"I know. Logically, I know that." I look up, meeting his eyes. "But these memories don't feel like violation. They feel like... like I wanted it."
"Stockholm syndrome," Chenyu says suddenly. It's the first time he's spoken since we sat down. "Your mind is trying to rationalize what happened by convincing you it was consensual."
"Maybe," I concede. "Or maybe there's more to it that I don't remember yet."
"Regardless," Auntie interjects, "you're here now, and you're safe. That's what matters."
"What are your plans?" Uncle asks. "How long are you staying?"
"I don't know." I press my free hand to my stomach. "As long as it takes to figure out what I want. To have the babies in peace. To... to decide if I can ever face him again."
"You're welcome to stay as long as you need," Auntie says immediately. "We have plenty of room, and we'll make sure you're protected."
"Thank you."
Minji leans forward. "Can I ask something? Do you love him?"
The question hits like a physical blow.
"I..." I start, then stop. "I did. For three years, I loved him. I don't know if I still do, or if what I feel now is just the bond, or..." I shake my head. "I don't know anymore."
"That's okay," Wenli says quietly. "You don't have to know right now."
Food begins to arrive—small plates of banchan, followed by main courses. The conversation shifts to lighter topics as we eat, but I can feel the weight of unasked questions hovering over the table.
Halfway through the meal, a wave of nausea hits me hard. I set down my chopsticks and close my eyes, breathing carefully through my nose.
"Ruofei?" Auntie's voice is concerned.
"I'm okay. Just..." Another wave. "Excuse me."
I stand quickly and head for the bathroom, Wenli right behind me.
I make it to a stall just in time, my stomach rebelling against the food I've barely eaten. Wenli holds my hair back, rubbing soothing circles on my back.
"This is getting worse," he observes quietly.
"It's the distance from Qingyue," I manage between heaves. "Dr. Chen warned me it would be like this."
"Maybe you should call him. Let him know you're okay, at least."
"No." The response is immediate, visceral. "I can't. Not yet."
"Okay." Wenli doesn't push. "But Ruofei, you can't keep this up indefinitely. The separation is making you sick."
"I know."
But I'm not ready. Not yet.
We return to the table after I've rinsed my mouth and composed myself. Everyone looks concerned, but no one comments.
The rest of the meal passes in a blur. I manage to eat a little plain rice and some mild soup, but anything stronger sends my stomach into revolt.
By the time we're done, exhaustion is pulling at me like a physical weight.
"Let's get you home," Auntie says gently, and I don't have the energy to protest.
The house is beautiful—a traditional Korean hanok that's been modernized while maintaining its classical elegance. My room is on the second floor, spacious and comfortable, with a view of the garden.
"Rest," Auntie instructs, kissing my forehead. "We'll talk more tomorrow."
I nod, too tired to do anything else.
Wenli helps me unpack the essentials, then leaves me alone to shower and change.
By the time I'm in pajamas and under the covers, it's nearly midnight. I should sleep—I'm exhausted—but my mind won't settle.
The memories keep coming, each one adding another piece to the puzzle.
"Tell me if it's too much. Tell me if you need me to stop."
Had I told him it was too much? Or had I begged for more?
"You're perfect, princess. So perfect for me."
"Yours," I hear myself whisper in the memory. "Always yours."
A soft knock at the door pulls me from my spiraling thoughts.
"Come in," I call quietly.
Wenli slips inside, carrying two cups of tea. He's changed into comfortable pajamas, his hair still damp from his own shower.
"As promised," he says, handing me one cup before settling on the edge of my bed.
I take a sip of the tea—soothing and warm.
"So," Wenli says after a moment. "What did you want to talk about?"
I set down my tea and meet his eyes. "The memories are coming back."
"I figured. You got that look during the car ride—like you were seeing something the rest of us couldn't."
"They're not what I expected," I admit. "Not what I've been telling myself happened."
"What do you mean?"
I tell him everything. The fragments of tenderness, the words of love, the sense of being cherished rather than used. The growing suspicion that maybe—just maybe—I wasn't as unwilling as I've been claiming.
Wenli listens without interrupting, his expression carefully neutral.
"So," he says when I finish, "you're questioning whether it was actually assault."
"I don't know what it was anymore." I press my hands to my face. "How can I know if I consented when I don't remember clearly? When I was drugged? But these memories feel so real, Wenli. They feel like... like it was what I wanted."
"Even if it was what you wanted in the moment," Wenli says gently, "you were still under the influence of a drug. That complicates the question of consent."
"I know. But..." I lower my hands. "What if I'm wrong about him? What if he's not the monster I've been making him out to be?"
"Then you'll figure that out when you're ready to face him," Wenli says. "But Ruofei, whether he's a monster or not, the fact remains that you woke up with no memory and his mark on your neck. That's traumatic, regardless of intent."
He's right. I know he's right.
But it doesn't stop the guilt gnawing at my chest.
"I think I might still love him," I whisper. "Despite everything. Despite not knowing what really happened. I think... I think I still love him."
Wenli reaches over and takes my hand. "That's okay too. Love doesn't just disappear because things get complicated."
"What do I do?"
"Right now? Nothing. You rest, you take care of yourself and the babies, and you let yourself heal. When you're ready—when you have more answers—then you can decide what to do about Qingyue."
I nod, even though the uncertainty still churns in my gut.
"Get some sleep," Wenli says, standing.
"Tomorrow is a new day."
After he leaves, I lie in the darkness, one hand on my stomach where two tiny lives are growing.
I'm sorry, I think to them. I'm sorry your father and I are such a mess. But I promise, no matter what happens, I'll protect you. I'll love you. You'll be safe.
The bond pulses in my chest—distant but persistent, like Qingyue is trying to reach across the miles between us.
I'm sorry, I think to him too, though he can't hear me. I'm sorry I ran. I'm sorry I don't know what I want. I'm sorry for everything.
And then, finally, I sleep.