Chapter 45: A Performance of Sociopathy

"Look who's back. Ah Ye, we meet again." Alice cooed, her lips curled into a deceptive smile, her hand shooting out for a handshake.

Shao Ye froze, caught like a deer in headlights. Stiffly, reluctantly, he extended his hand, skin crawling as their palms met.

Alice’s eyes slid past him, settling on Lu Zhanxing. Her voice softened to a dangerous velvet. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.”

Lu Zhanxing barely grunted in response, but his gaze never left Shao Ye. It clung to him, heavy with possession, as if trying to devour him whole. Then, just as restraint shattered, Lu Zhanxing reached out, grabbed Shaoye’s neck like a lifeline, and pulled him in for a searing kiss.

The world disappeared. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a territorial claim, an unspoken brand. By the time Lu Zhanxing pulled away, Shao Ye’s face was scarlet, his ears burning. He was mortified to his core, desperate to vanish into thin air.

Around them, the Lu family staff didn’t miss a beat. Heads bowed, eyes glued to the ground, they acted as if this scandalous display of dominance didn’t exist.

“Wait for me,” Lu Zhanxing murmured, his words molten honey. He turned on his heel and strode to his car, leaving Shao Ye staring after him like an abandoned puppy.

“I will,” Shao Ye whispered to the dust trail Lu Zhanxing left behind, his voice barely audible.

A sharp clap on his shoulder snapped him back to reality. Alice smirked, her tone a blend of mischief and malice. “Ah Ye, you’ve missed far too many etiquette lessons. Lucky for you, we’ve got plenty of time to catch up.”

Her words hit Shaoye like a sucker punch. His brain imploded, mushroom clouds of despair blooming in his mind. His face twisted, caught between swallowing a fly and choking on regret.

“Oh, and don’t forget,” Alice added, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “Your prenatal classes and therapy sessions—those are still on the schedule too.”

Shao Ye’s face went pale as paper. He looked like a lamb being led to slaughter.

“And,” Alice said, leaning in for the kill, “your shrink deserves a bonus. One session, and voilà! The man who couldn’t stand other men is knocked up. That’s progress, wouldn’t you say?”

Shao Ye’s jaw worked soundlessly, his thoughts a chaotic scream of self-loathing.

How could he forget?

If he’d begged Lu Zhanxing before he left, this nightmare could’ve been avoided. Now, he was neck-deep in etiquette hell, with no emperor to plead to.

Defeated, he trailed after Alice back to the Lu mansion. She wasted no time drilling him with “noble education.” Mercifully, the instructor seemed to go easy on him, probably out of pity for his pregnant state. But Shao Ywe wasn’t fooled. Instead of grueling drills, he was tortured with hours of tea ceremonies, calligraphy, and floral arrangements.

Dinner brought a fresh wave of suffering. The table was set with bland, health-conscious dishes—porridge, fruit platters, not a hint of the greasy, spicy decadence he craved. When he demanded answers, the maids explained it was a custom diet, prescribed by the medical team for his delicate condition. And this torture would last until post-birth recovery.

Shaoye snapped. Inwardly, he howled, “A year of this? No way! Screw this baby!” He wasn’t about to sacrifice his love for sizzling barbecue for some parasitic freeloader in his gut.

But rebellion didn’t last long. The moment his tantrum reached the staff, his therapist was summoned.

When the bespectacled man strolled into his room in a white coat, Shao Ye’s stomach dropped. This wasn’t fear—it was the gut-churning certainty that he’d lose. Again.

Before the therapist could speak, Shao Ye threw his hands up. “Not today, Doc. I’m not talking about the baby.”

The man smiled, unbothered. “Fair enough. At least eat something first.”

From his coat, the therapist produced a small box. As he opened it, the scent of grilled meat and spices exploded into the room. Shao Ye froze, his senses betraying him.

Barbecue. Real, mouthwatering barbecue.

The lunch box was packed tight with every kind of greasy, char-grilled snack that got his mouth watering. Stuff like this—unapologetically "unhealthy" and a complete stranger to the pristine, holier-than-thou Lu family dining table—was pure gold to Shao Ye.

Like a moth to a flame, he staggered to the table, eyes glued to the sinful treasures inside.

The therapist didn’t rush him, just watched as Shao Ye reverently picked up a skewer and took a bite. He didn't just dive in; no, he savored every bite like it was some forbidden indulgence, tasting each smoky, spicy morsel like a man who knew this kind of dirty pleasure didn’t come around often.

Damn it all. He was hooked, heart and soul. And just like that, the straight-laced, hormone-fueled "mother-to-be" caved again.

Shao Ye sat there, tearing into a skewer of lamb like it was the only thing grounding him. But as the smoky flavor hit his tongue, his mind wandered back to when he first met Lu Zhanxing.

Back then, Lu Zhanxing was a pampered little prince, clueless about the real world and so damn picky with food he’d rather starve than touch street snacks he sneered at as “trash.” The thought made Shao chuckle, his eyes flickering with a mix of nostalgia and irony.

The doctor noticed, curiosity piqued. “Mr. Shao, something funny on your mind?”

Shao Ye grinned, half-lost in the memory. “Just thinking about the early days with Lu Zhanxing.”

The doctor leaned in, amused. “Care to share?”

Shao Ye s grin twisted into something darker. “When I found out my pheromones matched with his, I lost it. Blew up O'Dell Academy and bolted, all to dodge a damn marriage. And the car I swiped in my getaway? Yeah, turns out it was his.”

He laughed at his own mess. “Fate’s a sick joke, right?”

The doctor didn’t answer, just nudged him on. “Then what?”

“Then?” Shao Ye snorted. “Then he shows up, says he’s a Beta, AWOL from the military, ditched by his fiancée, and flat-out homeless. And me? Like an idiot, I believed him. Took him to the slums, proposed just so we could crash somewhere, and—get this—married the guy.”

Shao Ye didn’t hold back, spilling the whole twisted tale of how he and Lu Zhanxing spiraled from strangers to something deeper. His smile softened as he confessed, “You know, Doc, I’ve finally figured out the difference between love and obligation. Facing my own feelings—it’s thanks to you.”

The doctor waved it off. “Mr. Shao, love isn’t something you can teach in a few sessions. It’s a lifelong lesson. The fact you’ve come this far? That’s your courage, not my guidance.”

“I get it,” Shao Ye murmured, sighing like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “I’m lucky to have Zhanxing. My sister, though... she wasn’t so lucky. Stuck with a screw-up like me for a brother.”

The doctor’s brow furrowed. “Mr. Shao, I’m not here to psychoanalyze anyone but you, but... you need to take a hard look at your sister. As an outsider? I think you’ve been blind to some things.”

Shao Ye froze, staring at the doctor like he’d just grown a second head. “Blind to what? What’re you saying?”

“Ever heard the phrase ‘can’t see the forest for the trees’?” The doctor’s voice dropped, steady and sharp. “From what you’ve told me—and based on my expertise—I suspect your sister might have histrionic antisocial tendencies.”

That hit Shao Ye like a sledgehammer. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s a genetic disorder,” the doctor explained, his tone clinical but cutting. “People like her? Born twisted. They don’t give a damn about others, only their own goals. They’re masters of manipulation, capable of charming everyone around them while pulling the rug out from under their feet. High-functioning ones? They’re terrifyingly good at it—strategic, ruthless, and utterly amoral.”

Shao Ye couldn’t process it. He just sat there, stunned, like someone had gutted him and left him to bleed out.

The doctor pressed on. “One more thing. Your medical report from the Imperial Capital Hospital—it showed chemical traces in your glands. Signs of tampering during a critical developmental stage.”

That snapped Shao Ye back. His muscles tensed like coiled steel, his mind racing with a thousand scenarios, none of them good.

“And Mr. Shao,” the doctor said, his voice quieter now but no less chilling, “whoever did this had to be someone you trusted completely. Someone you’d never suspect.”

Shao Ye’s head shot up, his eyes wild and bloodshot. “No. No way. Not my sister. She wouldn’t—she couldn’t—hurt me.”