Second Novel. Let's go~

...⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──── ⠀...

...⋆｡°✩ADMIT IT✩°｡⋆...

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...Storyline...

They were never supposed to fall for each other.

Zi Han Liu and Lian Cheng are everything you’d expect from two spoiled, arrogant rich boys—top of their class, top of their game, and at the bottom of each other’s patience. Rivals since day one, they compete like it’s war: in school, in sports, even in how coldly they can ignore the other’s existence.

There’s only one rule in their world—never come second.

And Lian always does.

But the hate starts cracking. A glance too long. A silence too charged. A night neither of them can explain.

Just as they begin to unravel what’s really between them, the unthinkable happens:

Their single parents announce they’re getting married.

A perfect business merger.

A perfectly twisted complication.

Now, trapped between what they feel and what the world expects, Zi Han and Lian must choose:

Can they stop the wedding—and admit what they’ve become?

Or will pride and fear destroy the only thing real in their lives?

...⊹₊...

...Genre...

...Boys’ Love...

...Identity Crisis...

...Homophobia...

...Enemies to Lovers...

...High School Rivalry...

...Forbidden Romance...

...Self-Acceptance...

...⊹₊...

1. Zi Han Liu (17)

Lives in Shanghai.

Only child of a powerful two-person household.

Mother: a strict, sharp-tongued business magnate—CEO of NeuSys Corp, a leading software engineering company.

One of the richest women in Shanghai; Zi Han is her prized heir.

Raised with pressure, high standards, and little warmth.

Doesn’t always get what he wants—especially emotionally.

Cold, calculated, obsessed with control.

Top of his class—but empty inside.

2.Lian Cheng (17)

Also lives in Shanghai

Only son of a wealthy, emotionally distant father.

Father: a flashy, successful entrepreneur—Chairman of Titan Drive, a luxury vehicle manufacturing and sales empire.

Comes from a broken home; his parents’ divorce left deep scars.

Gets whatever he wants—except peace.

Proud, impulsive, driven to prove himself.

Resents his father’s choices, and himself for caring.

Hides pain behind arrogance.

3. Liu Lan (43)

Zi Han’s mother

Widowed (husband died when Zi Han was young).

CEO of NeuSys Corp (top software company).

Strict, elegant, emotionally cold.

Values success over affection.

4.Lian Bo (45)

Lian’s father

Divorced (Lian’s mother left when he was a child).

Owner of Titan Drive (luxury vehicle company).

Confident, prideful, emotionally distant.

Spoils Lian with wealth, not attention.

...⊹₊...

...⚠️ Content Warnings – Read Before Proceeding...

Explicit Homophobia & Internalized Queerphobia.

Toxic Rivalry, Power Struggles & Mental Manipulation.

Verbal Abuse & Cruel Language.

Emotionally Absent / Controlling Parents.

Forbidden Stepbrother Romance.

Sexual Tension, Identity Crisis, and Repressed Desire.

Heavy Themes of Pride, Shame, and Self-Destruction.

Slow Burn → Obsession → Desperation → Love.

...────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────...

Author’s Note:

This isn’t just a story about hate turning into love.

It’s about fear, confusion, and two boys learning that the world doesn’t get to decide who they are.

If you’ve ever felt lost, angry, or afraid to admit the truth—

This one’s for you. 💔💙

^^^– From the author, with heart.^^^

...────୨ৎ────...

The stadium thundered with cheers.

It was the final day of Jinghai Academy’s annual inter-house championship, and nothing mattered more than the 200m dash. Not grades. Not money. Not even last year’s scandals. This race decided everything—honor, power, bragging rights.

And every damn person knew exactly who it came down to.

Zi Han Liu.

Lian Cheng.

Their names glowed on the digital board like two swords mid-duel. First and second. Always.

From the VIP stands, students screamed and chanted. The smell of fresh turf mixed with expensive cologne. Phones hovered above heads, all focused on one thing:

Lane 4 — Zi Han: blank face, focused stare, black and gold uniform hugging his perfect form.

Lane 5 — Lian: jaw clenched, fingers twitching, eyes burning.

The referee raised the pistol.

“Runners, on your mark…”

Lian crouched into position, eyes locked on the track ahead.

No mistakes.

Not this time.

“Set—”

A flash. A bang. They were off.

Twenty seconds felt like war.

Zi Han and Lian surged forward, step for step, breath for breath. The crowd became noise. The world blurred. But Lian could feel him—right there, always just an inch too fast.

He pushed harder. He had to win. His legs screamed. His lungs burned.

But Zi Han didn’t slow.

And then—

Zi Han leaned.

Lian didn’t.

The line snapped past.

The screen flashed:

1st — Zi Han Liu — 22.06s

2nd — Lian Cheng — 22.09s

Again.

Roars. Fireworks. Applause. But Lian wasn’t listening.

He ripped his race number from his chest, storming toward Zi Han, whose smug expression hadn’t changed.

“You didn’t win,” Lian snapped.

Zi Han tilted his head. “Scoreboard says otherwise.”

“That lean wasn’t legal. You crossed into my lane.”

“Call a judge, then.” Zi Han’s voice was cool, disinterested. “File a complaint. Cry about it.”

Lian stepped in closer, face inches from his rival’s. “One day, Liu, I’ll beat you. I’ll bury you.”

Zi Han’s lips twitched—maybe a smile, maybe mockery. “You’ve been saying that since freshman year.”

A pause.

Lian’s fists trembled. “You think you’re better than everyone.”

“I know I’m better than you.”

The silence between them snapped like a wire.

Their breathing was harsh now, mingled in the charged space between their bodies. Too close. Too intense. The world around them faded under the weight of their stare.

“I swear to God,” Lian hissed, voice shaking, “I’m going to wipe that arrogant look off your face.”

Zi Han leaned in, just slightly. His voice barely above a whisper.

“Try.”

Their names were called to the stage, and Zi Han turned his back without waiting.

Lian didn’t follow immediately.

He stared at Zi Han’s retreating figure, hatred blooming in his chest like wildfire.

Or maybe it wasn’t hatred.

Maybe it was something worse.

He crushed that thought before it could breathe.

...⊹₊...

The boys' locker room was nearly empty. The distant roar of the crowd faded behind thick walls. Only the hum of the lights and the occasional slam of a locker door filled the silence.

Zi Han stood shirtless by the mirror, dabbing sweat off his neck, cool and collected, as if the race hadn’t even happened.

The door creaked open behind him.

No footsteps.

Zi Han caught Lian’s reflection in the mirror. The other boy entered slowly, wordless, his expression unreadable. He walked with calm precision, jaw clenched, eyes unreadable—like a storm gathering behind glass.

Zi Han smirked to himself.

He turned around lazily. “Wow. That’s gotta sting.”

Lian didn’t reply. He dropped his bag on the bench with a heavy thud, back still facing Zi Han.

Zi Han waited.

Silence.

Then: “What happened to all that fire? Cat got your tongue, second place?”

Lian exhaled—controlled, deliberate.

“I’m just trying not to deck you before graduation,” he said, unflinching.

Zi Han laughed softly. “Cute. Always so dramatic after losing.”

Lian turned slowly, sharp eyes locking on Zi Han’s.

“I didn’t lose because you were better.”

“Oh?” Zi Han arched an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

Lian stepped forward—one, two slow strides—until there were only inches between them.

“I lost because I wasted energy thinking you were worth catching up to.”

Zi Han’s smirk twitched.

“And yet here you are. Still chasing.”

Lian’s eyes flickered. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just a target.”

Zi Han chuckled, low. “I like how your voice gets all tight when you’re mad. So desperate to stay calm, so desperate not to crack.”

Lian’s fists clenched. “Say what you want. You’re not in my head.”

Zi Han’s voice dropped, soft and deliberate. “Aren’t I?”

The moment snapped.

Lian shoved him back, hard—into the lockers with a clang. Zi Han stumbled slightly, then straightened, brushing off his shoulder with infuriating calm.

“I will beat you,” Lian said, voice razor-sharp.

Zi Han’s eyes glittered. “In the race? Or in this little pissing contest you’ve invented between us?”

He stepped forward again, closing the space Lian had tried to create.

“You talk like you hate me,” Zi Han murmured, “but you keep walking into rooms I’m in.”

Lian opened his mouth—but Zi Han leaned in before he could speak, lips brushing dangerously close to his ear.

“Either you’re obsessed… or confused.”

Lian didn’t move. His breath hitched.

Zi Han pulled back just enough to lock eyes with him.

“Which is it?”

Lian’s stare burned with fury—but it wavered, for just one second.

Zi Han saw it.

He smiled.

That damn smile.

Then, as casually as ever, he turned away.

“You can keep trying, Cheng,” he called over his shoulder. “But you’ll always be half a second behind me.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Lian stood there, alone.

Fuming. Conflicted. And too aware of the echo of Zi Han’s breath on his neck.

...────୨ৎ──── ⠀...

How did you like the first chapter?

...────୨ৎ────...

...Lian’s POV...

He should’ve hit him.

He should’ve slammed Zi Han into the lockers and knocked that smug smile clean off his face.

Instead, he stood there like an idiot. Let him walk away. Let his words hang in the air like a victory flag.

“You’ll always be half a second behind me.”

Lian sat on the bench, elbows on his knees, fingers threading through damp hair as his lungs burned with more than just exhaustion. His race time—22.09—throbbed in his skull like a curse. It wasn’t even the worst time he’d ever clocked. But this one... this one came with a shadow.

A name.

Zi Han Liu.

Lian closed his eyes, and the image sprang up like it always did: Zi Han crossing the finish line half a second ahead, calm, pristine, like he belonged there. Untouched. Perfect. Again.

That name alone made his blood boil. Always first. Always composed. Always standing just far enough ahead to make chasing him feel like drowning with your eyes wide open.

He doesn’t even look tired.

Lian clenched his fists until his knuckles screamed.

He doesn’t train harder. He isn’t stronger. He just... wins.

Why?

Why did Zi Han make it all look so effortless—like being the best was in his blood?

Lian’s stomach twisted. Maybe it was. Maybe it really was that simple.

His jaw tensed at the thought. His father would say the same thing. Probably had, once. Back when he used to care.

Back when his mother still lived here.

Back when someone in that glossy, cold mansion had actually looked at Lian like he was more than a name on a succession plan.

Now, his father tossed praise like receipts—thin, meaningless. Bragged about him to investors, forgot to ask how his meets went. Lian got luxury cars, designer shoes, custom gear.

But not a damn ounce of warmth.

“You should learn from my mistakes,” his father once said, eyes on a tablet, not on Lian. “Win clean. Win smart. Never waste energy on emotion.”

But emotion was all Lian had left.

Anger. Pride. Hate. All tangled up in his ribs like barbed wire.

And today, Zi Han had cut him with every inch of it.

The worst part wasn’t losing. It was knowing that Zi Han looked at him like a mirror—only duller. Like he was a practice run. A shadow. Something to measure against and outgrow.

Lian had never wanted to be anyone’s reflection.

But what if that’s all he was?

No. No. He wouldn't allow it.

This wasn’t over.

This would never be over.

...⊹₊...

...Zi Han’s POV...

He shouldn’t have said it like that.

But Lian always dragged it out of him—the bite, the taunt, the thrill of circling too close to the edge.

Zi Han rolled the sweat from his neck with a towel, his movements slower than usual. His reflection in the mirror stared back, pale under the harsh locker room lights. A perfect image. Polished. Still.

He hated it.

The smirk he wore wasn’t real. It hadn’t been real in years.

“You talk like you hate me… but you keep walking into rooms I’m in.”

The words had slipped out too easily. But maybe that was the point. Lian always was there—loud, proud, angry.

And Zi Han couldn’t stop noticing him.

The way his breathing hitched when he lost. The way his eyes sparkled with fury instead of tears. The way he kept trying. Even when it was pointless.

Even when Zi Han had already won.

Why do I keep watching him?

He didn’t need to. He had nothing to prove.

At least, that’s what his mother would say.

“Winning is the bare minimum,” she’d snapped last week after his quarterly academic review. “You’re expected to lead, not compete.”

Zi Han had nodded, back straight, hands folded. Just like he always did. He never showed hesitation—not in front of her. Not in front of anyone.

Especially not in front of Lian Cheng.

But lately, every time he saw him—shoulders tense, voice sharp, eyes burning—it chipped away at something inside him. Something he couldn’t name. Something he refused to acknowledge.

Because feeling anything meant weakness. And weakness wasn’t allowed.

His mother had taught him that since the beginning.

He was NeuSys Corp’s heir, her creation. Built to dominate. Raised to surpass. There was no room for distraction, or curiosity, or want.

So why the hell couldn’t he stop thinking about him?

Zi Han shut his locker with a soft click, but his jaw remained tight.

Lian was chaos. A walking contradiction. He burned hot while Zi Han froze. But somehow, they kept orbiting the same line—same classes, same rankings, same stupid championship.

The same need to come out on top.

He’s nothing like me.

But when he looked at Lian—eyes sharp with rage, chest heaving, pride like armor—it felt like looking into a mirror held at the wrong angle.

Same ambition. Same hunger. Same wound.

He’ll come back. He always does.

And when he does, Zi Han would be ready.

Because this wasn’t about winning anymore.

It was about staying the original.

The real.

And making sure the reflection in the mirror never overtook him.

...────୨ৎ────...

Too much hatred... -_-