Ruofei's POV:
Next Morning
"Again! Again, Papa!"
Liqin's delighted shriek echoes through the living room as Qingyue lifts her above his head, spinning in a circle while she spreads her arms like she's flying.
"My turn!" Mingyu is already tugging on Qingyue's pant leg. "Papa, my turn!"
I watch from the doorway, coffee cup warm in my hands, and let myself simply observe.
We moved back to the house this morning—the mansion that was supposed to be ours before everything fell apart. The one with the bedroom we shared for that single night six years ago.
It took most of the morning to get settled.
The twins had been fascinated by everything, running from room to room, claiming spaces as their own.
Liqin had immediately declared the room with the bay window "hers" because she could see the garden.
Mingyu had chosen the quieter room next to it, already asking if we could set up bookshelves.
"This house is so big, Mommy!" Liqin had exclaimed, spinning in circles in the foyer. "We can play hide and seek forever!"
"It is big," I'd agreed, watching Qingyue's face as he took in the space—the home we were supposed to share, now finally becoming what it was meant to be.
He'd been quiet at first, almost hesitant, like he was afraid to believe this was real.
But then Mingyu had grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the kitchen, asking if Papa knew how to make pancakes, and the uncertainty had melted away.
Now, watching him play with them, I can see how naturally he's fallen into this role.
How he listens intently when Liqin explains the complex rules of the game she just invented.
How he notices when Mingyu gets tired and suggests a quieter activity without making the boy feel like he's being babied.
I'd expected it to feel strange, walking back through these doors with Qingyue and the twins.
Expected ghosts of the past to make everything uncomfortable.
Instead, it feels like coming home.
"Are you sure about this?" Qingyue had asked when I first suggested it. "Moving in together so quickly? The twins are still getting used to having me around."
But the twins had surprised us both.
Yesterday afternoon, Mingyu had been unusually quiet during lunch.
I'd noticed him watching Qingyue carefully, that analytical look he gets when he's processing something important.
Finally, he'd set down his chopsticks and asked, "Papa, why weren't you there when we were born?"
The question had made everyone at the table freeze.
My parents, Qingxue and Wenlan who'd come for lunch, even Liqin had stopped her usual chatter.
Qingyue had gone very still, then slowly set down his own chopsticks.
"That's a very good question, Mingyu," he'd said carefully. "Can I give you a long answer, or do you want the short version?"
"Long," Mingyu had said immediately. "I want to understand."
So Qingyue had explained.
Not in patronizing simple terms, but treating them like the intelligent children they are.
He'd told them about the enemies who would have hurt them if they'd known about the twins.
About spending six years making sure every single threat was eliminated.
About the Zhang family and their vendetta, about making alliances and securing safety.
"I wished every single day that I could be there," Qingyue had said, voice thick with emotion.
"When your Mommy was pregnant, when you were born, for every birthday and every milestone I missed. But if those bad people had known about you, they would have tried to hurt you to hurt me. So your Mommy made the bravest choice—he took you somewhere safe and kept you hidden until I could make sure no one would ever hurt you."
Liqin had listened with wide eyes, then nodded solemnly. "You were being a hero, Papa! Like in the stories! Heroes have to do hard things to protect people!"
"I don't know about hero," Qingyue had said with a shaky laugh.
"You are," Liqin had insisted. "You saved us before we even knew we needed saving!"
Mingyu had been quiet longer, processing in his careful way. Then he'd slid out of his chair, walked around the table, and climbed into Qingyue's lap.
"I forgive you," he'd said simply. "You were protecting us. That's what parents do."
Qingyue had wrapped his arms around Mingyu and just held him, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Liqin had immediately joined the hug, not wanting to be left out, chattering about how they were a family now and families stick together.
I'd watched my children comfort their father and felt something in my chest finally settle into place.
This was right. This was how it was always meant to be.
Now, watching him play with them, I can see how much he's already fallen in love with being a father.
The way he gives them his complete attention, the gentle patience when Liqin demands the same game seventeen times in a row, the quiet pride when Mingyu shows him a drawing.
It's everything I'd hoped for and was terrified I'd never see.
"Mommy!" Liqin spots me and comes running over, braids bouncing. "Did you see? Papa made me fly! I went so high!"
"I saw, baby. You were very graceful." I set down my coffee to catch her as she barrels into my legs.
"Like a bird!" She demonstrates by flapping her arms, nearly hitting me in the face.
"Papa says tomorrow he can teach me to do a flip if you say it's okay!"
"We'll see about flips," I hedge, shooting Qingyue a look. He has the grace to look sheepish.
"A very safe, well-supervised flip," he amends. "On soft surfaces. With spotting."
Mingyu appears beside his sister, Snowball tucked under one arm.
"Mommy, are you feeling okay? You look tired."
I shouldn't be surprised that he noticed. Mingyu notices everything.
I smile, but it's harder than it should be.
There's a low-level discomfort building in my abdomen, a warmth that has nothing to do with the coffee I'm drinking.
I know what this is. Have been expecting it, dreading it, since the moment Qingyue and I reconciled.
My heat is coming.
It's been six years since my last one—the bond separation suppressed them completely, my body too focused on survival to worry about reproduction.
But now that the bond is active again, now that Qingyue is close...
It's only a matter of time.
And from the way my skin is starting to feel too sensitive, the way Qingyue's scent is becoming more prominent and appealing, I'd say that time is running out fast.
"Ruofei?"
I look up to find Qingyue watching me with concern, the twins momentarily distracted by their toys.
"Are you okay? You look pale." He crosses the room in a few quick strides. "And you're warm."
His hand comes up to press against my forehead, and I have to suppress a shiver at the contact.
Even this simple touch feels more intense than it should.
"You're definitely running a fever." His frown deepens. "Are you getting sick? Should I call Dr. Park?"
"Not sick," I manage, stepping back slightly. His proximity is making it harder to think clearly. "Qingyue, we need to talk. Privately."
Understanding flashes across his face, followed immediately by worry and something else—something that makes his scent spike with alpha pheromones.
The twins, thankfully, are too engrossed in building a castle with Mingyu's blocks to notice the sudden tension in the room.
"Kids," Qingyue says, voice carefully casual, "how would you like to spend the night with Grandmother and Grandfather? I bet Grandmother would love to bake cookies with you."
"Cookies!" Liqin's head snaps up. "The ones with chocolate?"
"I'm sure she'd make whatever kind you want," I say, grateful for the distraction. "Why don't you two go pack your overnight bags? The pink bag for you, Liqin, and the blue one for Mingyu."
They scramble off toward their rooms, and I sink onto the couch before my shaking legs give out.
Qingyue sits beside me, careful to leave space between us even though I can tell he wants to be closer.
"How long?" he asks quietly.
"Tonight, maybe tomorrow morning at the latest." I press a hand to my lower abdomen, feeling the warmth intensifying. "It's been six years, Qingyue. I don't know how bad this is going to be."
"Worse than normal?" His voice is tight with concern.
"Potentially. The bond has been screaming for you for six years. Now that you're here, now that it knows you're available..." I trail off, not wanting to voice the full implications.
"We'll manage," he says firmly. "Whatever it takes, we'll get through it together."
The certainty in his voice helps settle some of my anxiety.
We settle the twins with their grandmother—my mother delighted to have them for the afternoon, though her knowing look makes it clear she understands exactly why we need time alone.
We drop the twins at my parents' estate with overnight bags and promises to come get them soon.
"Why do we have to stay with Grandmother and Grandfather?" Liqin asks, suspicious in the way only a six-year-old can be.
She's clutching her overnight bag and Mr. Fuzzy, looking between us with narrowed eyes.
"Because Mommy isn't feeling well," I explain carefully, crouching down to her level. "And he needs to rest without worrying about taking care of you."
"But we can be quiet!" Liqin protests. "We're very good at quiet. Right, Gege?"
"Sometimes," Mingyu says diplomatically. Then, those too-observant eyes studying us both: "Is Papa staying with you?"
"Yes," Qingyue confirms, ruffling Mingyu's hair gently. "I'm going to take care of your Mommy. Make sure he gets lots of rest and feels better soon."
"Will you be okay without us?" Mingyu asks, and there's genuine concern in his voice that makes my heart ache.
"I'll be perfectly fine," I assure him, pulling both twins into a hug. "And you're going to have so much fun with Grandmother. I bet she'll let you help in the garden."
"And make cookies!" Liqin adds, momentarily distracted from her suspicion.
"And make cookies," I agree. "Now go give Papa hugs, and we'll see you very soon."
After many hugs and promises to be good and Liqin extracting a promise that we'll call them before bedtime, we're back in the car.
The silence stretches as Qingyue drives us home. I can feel his tension, see how tightly he's gripping the steering wheel.
"Do you need to stop for suppressants?" he asks quietly, not looking at me. "I know a pharmacy that's discreet—"
"No." The word comes out more forcefully than I intended.
He glances at me, surprised. "Ruofei, if the heat is going to be severe, suppressants could help manage—"
"I don't need suppressants," I interrupt, then soften my tone. "I don't need them because you're here."
His hands tighten on the wheel. "What do you mean?"
"The whole reason heats are unbearable is because we're separated from our alphas," I explain, staring out the window at the passing streets.
"The fever, the pain, the desperation—that's all because our bodies are trying to call an alpha who isn't there. But we're not separated anymore. You're here."
"I am," he says softly, voice rough with emotion.
"And I..." I take a breath, feeling heat flood my cheeks that has nothing to do with my approaching heat. "I want to spend it with you. If you're willing. If you want to."
The car swerves slightly before Qingyue corrects it, pulling over to the side of the road and putting it in park.
He turns to face me fully, and the intensity in his eyes steals my breath.
"You want—" His voice cracks. "Ruofei, are you sure? After everything, I didn't think you'd want me to—I thought maybe you'd prefer to handle it alone, or with medical assistance, or—"
"I'm sure." I finally look at him directly, letting him see the truth in my eyes. "I forgave you, Qingyue. I'm giving you a second chance. That includes... everything. If you want."
"If I want?" He laughs, but it sounds more like a sob. "Ruofei, I've wanted nothing else for six years. But I need you to be absolutely certain. I won't—I can't—not unless you're completely sure this is what you want. Not what the heat wants, not what the bond wants. What you want."
The distinction matters. It matters so much that I have to take a moment to really examine my feelings.
Do I want this? Separate from the heat, separate from the bond, do I want to be intimate with Qingyue again?
Yes. Gods, yes.
"I'm sure," I say, voice steady now. "I want you. I want to spend my heat with you. I want—" I have to stop, embarrassed by how much I'm revealing.
"What?" he prompts gently, reaching over to take my hand. "What do you want, princess?"
The endearment makes my breath catch. He hasn't called me that since before everything fell apart.
"Everything," I admit quietly, lacing my fingers through his. "I want everything with you. The way it should have been from the beginning. The way it would have been if I hadn't run."
His thumb strokes across my knuckles, and even that simple touch sends sparks through my system.
"No regrets about the past," he says firmly. "We're here now. That's what matters."
"We're here now," I echo, then add with a small smile, "Though if we don't get home soon, we might end up having this conversation in your car, and that's not exactly how I envisioned this going."
He starts the car immediately, pulling back onto the road with perhaps more speed than strictly necessary.
He pulls into our driveway—our driveway, I'm trying to get used to thinking of it that way—and turns off the engine.
Then he reaches over and takes my hand again, bringing it to his lips to press a gentle kiss against my knuckles.
"I will do everything in my power to prove that I love you," he says, voice fierce with emotion. "Every moment, every touch, every breath—I'll show you exactly how much you mean to me."
"I know you will." I squeeze his hand, feeling the heat pulse more insistently through my body. "That's why I'm trusting you with this."
We sit there for a moment longer, hands linked across the center console, before the warmth in my abdomen becomes impossible to ignore.
"We should go inside," I manage, shifting uncomfortably. "It's getting worse."
He's out of the car and around to my side before I can even unbuckle, opening my door and offering his hand like I'm something precious.
"I can walk," I protest, but he ignores me, keeping a steadying hand on my back as we head into the house.
The familiarity of it hits me again—the entryway where we'd left the twins' shoes this morning, the living room where Qingyue had been playing with them just hours ago, the stairs leading up to what is now truly our bedroom.
My steps slow as we reach the stairs, reality hitting me.
This is happening. I'm choosing this. Choosing him. Choosing us.
"Ruofei?" Qingyue's voice is gentle, concerned. "We can stop. If you're having second thoughts, if you need more time—"
"I'm not having second thoughts." I turn to face him, and I can see the relief that floods his features. "I'm just... realizing how much I've wanted this. How long I've been waiting to come home."
"You're home now," he says softly, cupping my face with one hand. "We both are."
I lean into his touch, feeling the bond sing with rightness.
Then I take his hand and lead him upstairs.
The bedroom looks different in the afternoon light. The bed we'd hastily made this morning now seems enormous, intimidating.
Evidence of our rushed move-in is everywhere—boxes stacked in corners, clothes draped over chairs, the general chaos of trying to combine two lives.
"I'm going to change into something more comfortable," Qingyue says, moving toward one of the boxes. "And get some water, and make sure we have everything we might need. Dr. Park's number is programmed in my phone in case—"
I grab his wrist before he can move away, fingers wrapping around the warm skin.
He turns back, surprised, and I use the momentum to pull him closer, eliminating the space between us.
"Ruofei—" he starts, but I don't let him finish.
I kiss him.
It's not tentative or gentle. It's six years of longing compressed into a single moment, my lips pressing against his with all the desperation I've been holding back since the moment I saw him at the airport.
He freezes for a heartbeat—just long enough for me to wonder if I've miscalculated, if I've pushed too hard too fast—before his arms come around me and he kisses me back with equal fervor.
It's everything I remembered and nothing like it. Familiar and brand new all at once. The taste of him, the feel of his mouth against mine, the way he holds me like I'm both fragile and precious—it's all there, all the same.
But there's something different too. A maturity that wasn't there six years ago. A certainty. A sense that we've both been through hell and come out the other side, and this—this—is our reward.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.
"I expect you to prove that you love me," I say, voice coming out rougher than intended, affected by both emotion and the heat building in my system. "The best way you can."
His eyes have gone dark, pupils blown wide with want and love and something that looks like awe.
"Ruofei," he breathes my name like a prayer.
"Show me," I interrupt, running my hands up his chest, feeling the muscles I noticed this morning, the changes six years have wrought. "Show me everything you've been wanting to say for six years. Make me believe it."
"I will." He cups my face with both hands, thumbs brushing across my cheekbones with infinite tenderness. "I promise. I'll spend the rest of my life proving it if that's what it takes. Every day, every night, every moment we have—I'll show you."
"Start now," I whisper, pulling him closer, feeling the heat spike through my body in response to his proximity, his scent, his touch.
His breath catches, and I see the exact moment he stops holding back.
"I love you," he says, and then he's kissing me again, deeper this time, more thorough. "I love you so much, princess. I never stopped. Not for a single second."
The endearment, the declaration, the way he's holding me like I'm the most important thing in his world—it's everything I needed to hear, everything I've been waiting for.
"I love you too," I manage between kisses. "I never stopped either. Even when I was angry, even when I was scared—I loved you."
"I know," he murmurs against my lips. "I know, baby. I'm going to make up for every second we lost. I promise."
And as he guides me toward the bed, as his hands find the hem of my shirt and I start working on the buttons of his, I let myself believe it.
This is real.
This is happening.
We're finally getting our second chance.
And I'm not going to waste a single moment of it.