The Shadow in the Lab and the Light of a Birthday Cake

The cold wind swept through the hems of their clothes as the roadside lamps stretched and overlapped their shadows on the pavement.

Li Chen held Shi Ji, standing at the end of the sparsely populated street for a very, long time. His body, affected by the Alpha pheromones, felt uncomfortable, but he did nothing except rest his head on Shi Ji’s shoulder, inhaling the scent that was gradually being carried away by the breeze.

Shi Ji’s embrace was warmer than he had ever imagined.

He didn’t know when he had begun to secretly crave every embrace from Shi Ji. It was something his former self would never have considered; back then, he only saw Shi Ji as a selfish man.

And now? It wouldn’t be so bad if he were a little more selfish.

As long as his heart only held room for one person.

Li Chen slowly lifted his eyes to look at the pitch-black sky. The warm yellow light couldn’t pierce the dense darkness, yet it easily illuminated Shi Ji’s crimson ears.

He used his own pheromones to drive away any other scents on Shi Ji. Only after that sharp, bitter Scotch smell vanished did the fires racing through his own veins finally begin to subside.

Then, he felt two gentle pats on his back, like a soft cat’s paw cautiously scratching him.

“Are you feeling better?” Shi Ji asked. His voice sounded loud in Li Chen’s ear. He was nervous; Li Chen’s breath was so hot it had nearly dampened the fabric of his clothes.

The youth said nothing, merely nuzzling his fluffy head against him. His black hair brushed against the rim of Shi Ji’s reddened ear, the slight itch making Shi Ji tremble instinctively.

After a while, Li Chen finally pulled back. He slowly released his arms, and the warmth of the man’s body dissipated bit by bit.

Shi Ji instinctively wanted to step back, but Li Chen—as if seeing through him—grabbed his wrist first. Though the grip wasn’t tight, Shi Ji found himself unable to move, standing face-to-face with the boy.

The distance between them remained closed. Shi Ji looked at Li Chen—at his eyes, which turned a pale blue under the lamplight, and his slightly parted red lips. Then, the youth leaned in and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss against the corner of Shi Ji’s mouth.

Li Chen jumped back quickly, his eyes curving into crescents under the orange glow, revealing a hint of a canine tooth.

“I’m better now,” Li Chen said.

He blinked, staring at the stunned Shi Ji. The man’s smoky-black pupils constricted; it felt as though the lingering warmth on his lips could melt him entirely.

Shi Ji touched his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You…”

Before he could finish, a sudden, high-pitched scream interrupted him. 0373 appeared as a translucent puff on Li Chen’s shoulder. Its glass-ball-like body required close inspection to see the two tiny, sesame-seed-sized black dots that served as eyes. Right now, they were slanted into angry lines.

[Host! How could you kiss him?!] The fluff-ball bounced on Li Chen’s shoulder.

Shi Ji couldn’t hear Li Chen’s reply, likely because he was speaking directly to 0373 in his mind. He only heard the system’s voice.

It had been a long time since Li Chen obtained the system. During this period, Shi Ji still hadn’t figured out why he could hear their conversations, eventually attributing it to a bug caused by his own “crash” and “offline” status. However, this ability allowed him to hear the system’s instructions and prepare accordingly.

But if both Li Chen and the system chose mental communication, Shi Ji heard nothing.

[Why? There is no why!!] 0373’s increased volume broke Shi Ji’s thoughts. [You are the Protagonist! Your kiss should be saved for the Male Leads!]

[How can you call it disgusting… According to the original plot, the two Male Leads are the ones you’re supposed to like!]

[Aaaagh! I’m so mad! I’m ignoring you!]

Even without hearing Li Chen’s words, Shi Ji could guess the gist of the argument from 0373’s tone and dramatic performance.

Silence fell as 0373 seemingly went offline in a huff. Shi Ji felt a momentary pang of sympathy for the poor system, saddled with such an uncooperative host.

Li Chen returned to Shi Ji’s side in silence. He seemed annoyed after the fight, his voice sounding muffled.

“Can you take me back now?” he asked.

Shi Ji nodded. “Mhm.” He turned and led Li Chen toward the hotel parking lot.

Li Chen followed, staring at the man’s back illuminated by the streetlights. The world was quiet, but voices lingered in his mind. The system had told him he shouldn’t be so close to Shi Ji. It told him he should stay away. It told him who he was “supposed” to like.

And the root of it all was simply because he was the “Protagonist” and Shi Ji was the “Supporting Character.”

But what is a Protagonist? What is a Supporting Character? Why was he one and Shi Ji the other? These words, which Li Chen had never heard of before, tangled in his brain like a knot of rope.

He looked up at Shi Ji. For a moment, he wanted to slide his hand into the man’s palm. Instead, Li Chen reached out and only managed to grasp Shi Ji’s shadow.

The black car sped along the road.

It was late. Shi Ji stopped at a red light and rubbed his aching temples. The situation was disadvantageous: a chaotic plot, a rewritten worldview, and a missing secret document. These threads were wrapped into a giant cocoon of secrets, and Shi Ji was still on the outside, unable to even untangle a single strand.

He leaned back and let out a heavy sigh. He wondered if his own system would ever come back online. Would he be trapped here forever?

Li Chen turned to ask what was wrong. Shi Ji could only shake his head and say it was nothing.

The light turned green. Shi Ji hit the gas, but shortly after, he spotted something and pulled over. He unbuckled his seatbelt and ran out of the car.

Li Chen was confused. He was about to chase after him when he saw Shi Ji walking out of a bakery. The man walked quickly back to the car and, before Li Chen could speak, shoved a small box into the boy’s arms.

The cardboard box was slightly cool. Li Chen looked down and saw an exquisite cream cake under the plastic wrap. The sweet scent of cake wafted up. Nestled among ruby-like strawberries, four words were written in jam: Happy Birthday.

Li Chen’s head snapped up, shock evident in his eyes.

“You…” His lips trembled. “You bought this for me?”

Shi Ji sat back in the driver’s seat, busy buckling his seatbelt. “Isn’t today your birthday?” he answered reflexively.

The simple sentence was as casual as asking “Have you eaten?” yet it sent waves crashing through Li Chen’s heart. His lashes flickered, and he remained silent, lips pursed.

After a long while, Li Chen spoke. “Tell me, since there’s such a gap between you and the ‘original’ Shi Ji, why hasn’t anyone else noticed?”

“They’re too stupid.”

Shi Ji glanced at him, hearing the cryptic topic. “It’s not that they haven’t noticed; it’s that they don’t dare say anything.”

His clumsy acting couldn’t last forever. His personality was the polar opposite of the original’s. He knew people suspected him, but since he wore the original’s skin, no one would voice those doubts openly.

Sometimes he struggled with the fact that he was Shi Ji, but not really Shi Ji. He felt like he was in a vortex, losing track of who he actually was. He found himself maintaining the original’s persona out of habit, slowly losing himself.

“What’s there to be afraid of?” Li Chen huffed, his tone dismissive. He stared at Shi Ji, his fingers stroking the smooth surface of the cake box. “You and he are different.”

“The old Shi Ji would never have celebrated my birthday.”

He sounded relaxed, even opening the box to take the cake out. His finger caught a bit of cream, and he sucked it off, the strawberry-flavored cream melting in his mouth.

Li Chen poured out the candles and picked one to stick into the cake. As he folded his hands to make a wish, Shi Ji couldn’t help but ask, “Aren’t you going to light it?”

The youth looked up, his misty-blue eyes gazing at him as he tilted his head in confusion. “Can’t I make a wish without lighting it?”

Shi Ji answered patiently, “You can, but…”

“If I can, then why must I light it?”

“This,” he pointed to the interior car light. “And this,” he pointed to the streetlights outside. “They can light my ‘candle’ just as well.”

“No one dictates that a candle must be lit by a flame,” Li Chen said. “And no one can dictate what Shi Ji must be like.”

His voice echoed in the quiet car, striking directly against Shi Ji’s chest. Shi Ji’s heart began to thud loudly. He looked at the boy, unable to hide his disbelief.

Li Chen smiled. He used a finger to swipe a bit of cream onto the corner of Shi Ji’s mouth, then leaned in to lick it off. His soft tongue slid against the man’s lip, leaving a lingering, damp heat.

Back at the villa, Shi Ji retreated to his room in a daze. He collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in the soft quilt. The lack of oxygen made his head feel heavy, but he found himself relying on the sensation.

After a while, he rolled over, gasping for air with sweat on his brow. He stared into the darkness of the room.

Li Chen is right.

He had maintained the persona to finish the mission and go home. But if the system is gone, why keep pretending?

The blockage in his mind cleared. Shi Ji rolled around on the bed a few times before sitting up. Persona? Plot? Screw it all!

Feeling suddenly lighthearted, he jumped off the bed and ran a few laps around the room—behavior that would have looked incredibly confusing to anyone else.

Just then, his phone vibrated on the bed. The screen lit up.

Shi Ji stopped, panting slightly as he checked the message. The text field was empty, but there was an attachment. It was from an anonymous sender.

He hesitated, then opened the file. An image popped up. At the bottom, a line of text read: Taken in Year XXXX at Z Laboratory.

The photo showed about a dozen people, mostly in white lab coats. Because the photo was old and appeared to have been damaged, the faces were blurry. It looked like a standard group photo.

Shi Ji frowned, zooming in and out. Then, his gaze shifted to the edge of the photo. There were two small figures standing there.

They were children, likely quite young, with adults’ hands on their shoulders. They wore matching white lab coats. Without a close look, they were easy to miss.

Shi Ji brought the phone closer. Half a minute later, his expression turned grave, filled with absolute shock.

One of those two children… looked exactly like a young Li Chen.