The year Shen Qingyu turned sixteen, his beauty became impossible to ignore. Even the Shen family, who disliked his temperament, could not deny it. He had grown tall and slender, with pale skin that looked almost transparent beneath sunlight. His brows were cold and refined. His eyes were bright, sharp, and slightly upturned at the corners. His lips were naturally red, giving his otherwise distant face an almost cruel vividness. He did not look like a gentle Omega. He looked like frost gathered on the edge of a blade. People wanted to look at him. Then became afraid when he looked back.

His pheromones had also begun to stabilise — clean, cold, faintly sweet, like snow over white tea.

The Shen family hired additional etiquette teachers for him. An Omega of his grade, even with his complicated background, still had value. Marriage value. Social value. Face value. The engagement with Xie Linchuan was mentioned more frequently. Xie Linchuan was twenty by then — old enough to understand what an engagement meant, old enough to know he no longer looked at Shen Qingyu the way a fiancé should. He still treated Shen Qingyu with courtesy. Sometimes with guilt. But guilt was not affection. Guilt was even worse than indifference. Indifference at least did not pretend to be kindness.

In the weeks before Shen Qingyu's birthday, Shen Jianing became ill. Not seriously — a mild fever, a cough, a pale face, and the kind of fragility that made the whole Shen family soften. Xie Linchuan came almost every day. He said he was visiting the Shen family. Everyone knew who he came to see.

Shen Qingyu heard the servants whisper.

"Young Master Xie is really good to Young Master Jianing."

"But isn't he engaged to Young Master Qingyu?"

"That engagement was arranged by the elders. Young people have their own feelings."

"Young Master Qingyu probably won't care. He is so cold."

"Yes, he doesn't look like someone who would love anyone."

Shen Qingyu stood behind the corner and listened. He did not step out. He only lowered his eyes and looked at his own hand. His fingers were long and pale. Very steady.

He thought, absurdly, that the servants were right. He did not love Xie Linchuan. Not the way Shen Jianing seemed to. Not the way romance required. But did that mean betrayal could not hurt? Did that mean being abandoned was not humiliating? Did that mean promises made in the names of dead parents could be treated like old paper, torn up because living people found them inconvenient?

Shen Qingyu did not know. No one had ever taught him what he was allowed to feel.

His sixteenth birthday banquet was small. The Shen family said it was because Shen Qingyu disliked noise. That was only half true. The other half was that Shen Jianing had not fully recovered from his illness, and the family did not want to tire him. So Shen Qingyu's birthday became restrained. A simple dinner. A cake. A few gifts. A few polite blessings.

Shen Qingyu wore a white shirt beneath a pale grey jacket. His hair was neatly combed, his face calm. Under the chandelier light, his beauty made several visiting relatives fall silent for a moment. Someone praised him. "Qingyu has grown up beautifully." Another person laughed. "In a few years, the Xie family will be very fortunate."

The air shifted. Shen Jianing, sitting not far away, lowered his head. Xie Linchuan's hand tightened around his glass. Shen Qingyu noticed both. He picked up his fork and cut into the cake in front of him. The cream was too sweet. He had disliked overly sweet things since childhood. No one remembered.

Halfway through dinner, Xie Linchuan's parents arrived. They looked apologetic. Too apologetic. Shen Qingyu saw their faces and understood before they spoke. Some things did not need to be announced. They entered the study with the Shen elders. Xie Linchuan followed. Shen Qingyu was called in last.

Shen Jianing was not supposed to be there. But he stood outside the half-open door, pale-faced and trembling, as if he had tried to stop something and failed. A perfect position. Visible enough to be pitied. Not present enough to be blamed.

Inside the study, the atmosphere was heavy. Xie Linchuan's mother stood when Shen Qingyu entered. "Qingyu." Her eyes were red. She had known Shen Qingyu's Omega father, and because of that Shen Qingyu had always treated her with more patience than most adults. Now she looked at him with guilt so deep it almost resembled grief.

"Auntie Xie," Shen Qingyu said. His voice was calm. Too calm.

Xie Linchuan's father cleared his throat. "Qingyu, this matter… our Xie family is ashamed."

The Shen elder sat in the main seat, face dark. Xie Linchuan stood beside his parents, shoulders tense. Shen Qingyu looked at him. Xie Linchuan avoided his eyes.

So Shen Qingyu looked away.

Xie Linchuan's mother said softly, "The engagement between you and Linchuan was arranged because of our friendship with your father. Back then, we truly hoped…" Her voice trembled. She stopped.

Xie Linchuan's father continued for her. "But marriage concerns a lifetime. Linchuan says he cannot continue this engagement."

The study fell silent. Outside the door, there was a small sound. A breath. A suppressed sob. No one needed to look to know who it was.

Shen Qingyu stood in the centre of the room. For a moment, the air seemed very far away.

Then he asked, "Because of Shen Jianing?"

Xie Linchuan finally raised his head. His expression was painful. "Qingyu, this has nothing to do with Jianing."

Shen Qingyu looked at him. A faint smile touched his lips. "Then because of what?"

Xie Linchuan's face stiffened. "Because I don't want to hurt you."

That was such a ridiculous answer that Shen Qingyu almost laughed.

"You don't want to hurt me," he repeated.

Xie Linchuan's voice became hoarse. "You don't love me either. We both know this engagement was only arranged by the elders."

Shen Qingyu tilted his head slightly. His eyes were bright, cold, and almost curious. "So because I do not love you, I cannot be embarrassed?" Xie Linchuan froze. "Because I do not love you, you can stand in my house, on my birthday, and cancel an engagement made in my dead father's name?" Xie Linchuan's face went pale. "Because I do not love you, Shen Jianing crying outside the door matters more than whether I am humiliated inside this room?"

"Qingyu!" the Shen elder said sharply. "Speak properly."

Shen Qingyu looked toward him. "Which sentence was improper?"

The room froze. Xie Linchuan's mother covered her mouth, tears falling. "I'm sorry. Qingyu, Auntie is sorry. Your father once helped me. I promised him…" Her voice broke.

Shen Qingyu's fingers twitched. That was the only sentence that hurt. Not Xie Linchuan's guilt. Not the Shen family's warning. Not Shen Jianing's sob outside. But this woman mentioning his father.

Shen Qingyu closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his expression had returned to stillness.

"If the engagement is cancelled, then cancel it."

Xie Linchuan looked at him in surprise. Perhaps he had expected anger. Perhaps tears. Perhaps accusations. Perhaps the vicious, unreasonable scene everyone had silently prepared themselves to witness. Shen Qingyu gave him none of it.

He only said, "From today onward, Xie Linchuan and I have no engagement. The Xie family owes me nothing."

Xie Linchuan's mother cried harder. The Shen elder frowned. "Qingyu, don't speak in anger."

"I'm not angry."

That was true. Anger was hot. What Shen Qingyu felt was cold — so cold that even his fingertips seemed numb.

The elder said, "The Xie family has come sincerely. Do not make things ugly."

Do not make things ugly. Shen Qingyu looked at him. Then at Xie Linchuan. Then at the shadow trembling outside the door.

Suddenly, the whole scene became boring. Terribly, unbearably boring. Because from the beginning, everyone had already decided what role he should play. Xie Linchuan was the young man bravely rejecting an arranged marriage. Shen Jianing was the innocent person who did not want to hurt anyone. The Xie parents were apologetic elders caught between affection and their son's happiness. The Shen family was reasonable and dignified.

Only Shen Qingyu was dangerous. If he cried, he was unwilling. If he argued, he was vicious. If he mocked, he was cruel. If he stayed silent, he was cold. There was no version of himself that this room would receive without judgement.

So he chose the one thing no one expected. He bowed slightly to Xie Linchuan's parents. "Uncle Xie, Auntie Xie. I accept the cancellation." Then he turned and walked out.

At the door, Shen Jianing stood with red eyes. "Qingyu…"

Shen Qingyu stopped.

Shen Jianing's lips trembled. "I'm sorry. I really didn't know Linchuan-ge would…" He faltered. "Don't blame him. If you want to blame someone, blame me."

For years, Shen Qingyu had heard sentences like this. Don't blame Qingyu. Qingyu didn't mean it. If you want to blame someone, blame me. Every word sounded like self-sacrifice. Every word handed the knife to someone else.

This time, Shen Qingyu smiled. "Fine."

Shen Jianing froze.

"Then I blame you."

The corridor went dead silent. Shen Jianing's tears hung in his eyes, unable to fall. He had said those words countless times. No one had ever accepted. No one had ever dared.

Behind them, Xie Linchuan's expression changed. "Qingyu, Jianing was only trying to comfort you."

Shen Qingyu turned his head slightly. "So?"

Xie Linchuan was speechless.

Shen Qingyu looked at Shen Jianing again. His voice was soft. "Didn't you tell me to blame you?"

Shen Jianing's face went white. The Shen elder shouted from inside, "Shen Qingyu!"

Shen Qingyu did not look back. He walked away. The birthday cake in the dining room remained half-eaten, its candles long burned out.

That night, Shen Qingyu developed a fever. At first, he did not tell anyone. He returned to his room, locked the door, and sat beside the window. The moon outside was very bright. Too bright. His body alternated between cold and heat — his skin burned, but his fingers were icy. The glands at the back of his neck ached faintly, the unstable pheromones of an adolescent Omega disturbed by emotional stress.

He poured himself a glass of water. His hand shook. The glass slipped and shattered on the floor.

Shen Qingyu stared at the broken pieces. For some reason, he remembered the cup he had smashed when he was small, the time someone insulted his Beta father. The adult had told him he should not smash things. No one had told the other child to apologise.

Shen Qingyu laughed. It was very soft. A little hoarse. A little broken.

Then the fever rose sharply. The room tilted. He tried to stand, but his knees lost strength. He fell beside the bed, one hand pressed against the carpet, breath unsteady. The moonlight stretched across the floor like frost. In that cold white light, Shen Qingyu closed his eyes.