Beta Doesn't Mean a Bottom

That Wasn't in the Script

Chapter 18

The digital clock on the terminal screen blinked 12:43 a.m.

Lin Wanyue sat curled on the living room couch, legs folded neatly beneath him, fingers idle around a now-cold cup of tea. The blanket pooled over his lap was more for effect than comfort, and the soft light from the terminal cast a faint glow across his expressionless face.

He wasn’t tired.

His body was still. But his mind moved like clockwork, gears clicking as he thought through possibilities, probabilities, and margins of error.

In the original timeline, Shen Qiao didn’t come home after the gala.

That was the first red flag in a field of dozens. The first moment Lin Wanyue was left alone. The beginning of trust becoming a weapon. Affection curdling into silence. And eventually—

Bang. The sound of the front door unlocking cut clean through the quiet.

Lin didn’t move.

Footsteps entered—slow, measured, the soles of expensive shoes on hardwood. A pause, a low sigh. The soft click of the coat rack. Then silence again.

He’s back, Lin thought.

And just like that, the plot cracked.

Shen Qiao walked to the bedroom first, likely to change. Lin heard drawers opening, the muted sound of clothes rustling. Normally, the next part would be simple—Shen changing, then climbing into bed as if the night hadn’t mattered. But this wasn’t a normal night.

And Lin wasn’t in bed.

After a minute, the quiet steps returned, more deliberate now. They moved past the bedroom. Down the hall.

They stopped at the edge of the living room.

Lin didn’t look up.

He felt the gaze before he heard the voice.

“You should be in bed.”

Still pretending.

He let his fingers twitch against the cup. Not quite answering, but not ignoring either.

Shen crossed the room in two strides.

Lin felt a shift in air—then hands, warm and careful, scooping beneath his legs and shoulders. A sudden lift, steady and practiced. Lin blinked in surprise as his body tilted.

“You—” he began.

“You fell asleep,” Shen interrupted gently.

“I wasn’t—”

“Then you should’ve said something before I carried you like a bride.”

Lin closed his mouth.

Shen chuckled lowly as he held him. “Too late to object now.”

Lin didn’t fight it. There was no reason to. Not here. Not yet.

He let himself be carried.

Shen’s steps were quiet, and his arms were firm around him. Lin rested his head against the man’s shoulder—not affectionately, just passively—and caught the clean scent of aftershave and faint cologne.

When they reached the bedroom, Shen placed him on the bed with care, like something delicate, and pulled the blanket up over him. He even smoothed it at the corners.

Lin stared at the ceiling while Shen sat on the edge of the bed and let out a long exhale.

“The gala was tiring,” Shen said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Same people. Same speeches. Same empty smiles.”

Lin made a noncommittal sound. “You stayed longer than expected.”

Shen glanced at him. “Not really. I left as soon as I could.”

“That’s not what you usually do.”

“No,” Shen agreed. He leaned back, resting on one hand. “But it wasn’t the same without you there.”

Lin’s brows lifted faintly. “Oh?”

“You usually keep it interesting,” Shen said with a smile in his voice. “Your habit of ranking people’s outfits out loud kept me sane last year.”

“I was sick.”

“You could’ve just stood next to me looking bored. That would’ve helped.”

A pause.

Lin turned his head slightly on the pillow, eyes half-lidded. “Why did you come home so early?”

Shen paused at that.

“I told my father I wasn’t staying long,” he said simply. “He wanted me to make appearances. I said I had someone waiting for me.”

The blanket suddenly felt warmer.

Lin didn’t answer.

Shen smiled faintly, watching him. “You won’t admit it, but you were waiting.”

“I was on the couch,” Lin said.

“Waiting,” Shen replied, not missing a beat.

Lin rolled onto his side, facing away. “Go to sleep. Your voice is giving me a headache.”

Shen laughed, low and unbothered. He climbed into bed beside him and settled in without crowding, keeping a hand between them on the mattress as a quiet presence.

The silence that followed was comfortable. Almost too comfortable.

Eventually, Shen’s breathing slowed.

Lin stayed awake.

Eyes open, gaze fixed ahead, mind sharp and racing.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Shen Qiao had returned. Had smiled. Had held him. Had said warm things that weren’t part of the script. Had touched him like he meant it.

It was a small change—but a real one.

The first drop in a stream that could change the course of the river.

Lin lay still, body relaxed, but his thoughts turned cold and exact.

He would need to move sooner. Act faster. Protect the distance he’d built before it softened into something that could betray him again.

The story was shifting.

And Lin would not be left behind in its wake.

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End of Chapter 18.