Lucien poked Leon's chest through the silk sheets. "No morning training today?"

Leon hummed, pulling Lucien closer until the boy's messy black hair brushed his jaw. "I'd rather hold you. Consider it a holiday for me, too."

Lucien shifted, his forehead rubbing against Leon's chin. "In my country, we have a saying for this."

"Tell me," Leon murmured, his hand finding the small of Lucien's back.

"Cong ci jun wang bu zao chao," Lucien whispered. He struggled to translate the weight of the Chinese. "It means the Emperor is so obsessed with his beauty that he abandons the throne."

Leon let out a low, vibrating chuckle. His fingers nipped at Lucien's cheek. "If I were the Emperor, I'd build a palace on an island in the middle of a lake. I'd lock you inside so no one else could ever see you."

His thumb traced Lucien's lower lip with a slow, suggestive pressure. Lucien's face flared. "Pervert."

Leon didn't deny it. He leaned in, his intent clear in his darkening gray-blue eyes. Lucien felt a sudden, heavy shift against his thigh. He rolled away instantly, nearly falling off the mattress.

"Time to get up!" Lucien scrambled for the edge of the bed. "I'm hungry. No more bed talk."

Leon watched him with a predator's patience before heading to the shower. He emerged minutes later and began pulling clothes from the walk-in closet—all red.

"A bit much, isn't it?" Lucien eyed the festive crimson sweater.

Leon knelt in front of him, pulling Lucien's foot onto his thigh to slide on a sock. "Red looks good on you, baby. Wear it."

Once dressed, Leon handed him a stack of thick red envelopes. Lucien blinked at the gold-embossed paper. "What are these for?"

"Cash," Leon said, straightening Lucien's collar. "Hand them out to the staff today. They like you more than they like me, anyway."

Lucien hesitated. "But it's your money."

Leon swat Lucien's rear with a sharp thwack. Lucien yelped, clutching his backside. "It's New Year! You can't hit me!"

"I can't hit the baby," Leon corrected, a smirk playing on his lips. "But I can swat my wife."

"I'm not—!" Lucien didn't finish. He bolted for the door as if a wolf were at his heels.

He ran into Dean, the butler, in the grand hall. Lucien skidded to a halt and offered a bright, breathless smile. "Happy New Year, Dean! This is for you. It's for safety and peace."

Dean accepted the heavy envelope with a rare, genuine smile. "Thank you, Little Master."

Lucien spent the morning acting as a "wealth-bringing boy," darting through the estate until every staff member was holding a red packet. The manor felt alive, the usual monochromatic silence replaced by festive chatter.

By the time Leon dragged him to the dining room, Lucien was beaming. He took a bite of a grilled cheese sandwich. "Did you ever smile before I moved in? Dean never told me the 'Young Master finally smiled' line."

Leon paused, his expression deadpan. "I'm a boxer, Lucien, not a mime. Why wouldn't I smile?"

"It's a rhetorical device," Lucien huffed. "It emphasizes my importance to you. Forget it."

Leon leaned over the table. "I get hard when I see you. Does that emphasize your importance enough?"

Lucien nearly choked on his sandwich. "Eat your breakfast."

After the meal, they moved to the kitchen. Leon had insisted on making dumplings from scratch. He stood behind Lucien, his large hands guiding Lucien's much smaller ones over the dough.

"Pinch the edge here," Leon commanded. His hands were built for violence, yet he folded the tiny pleats with terrifying precision.

Lucien tried to copy him. His dumpling immediately burst, spilling filling across the marble. "This is too hard."

"One person in this house needs to know how to cook," Leon teased. "Don't put so much filling in. Dumplings are like you—small bellies. If you stuff them too full, they break."

Lucien glared at him. He wanted to throw the dough at Leon's face.

By noon, the kitchen counter was split in two. Leon's side held rows of perfect, uniform dumplings. Lucien's side held a chaotic pile of lumps.

"I'll eat yours," Leon promised, ruffling Lucien's hair.

"Deal."

They took Coco out for a walk in the afternoon air. Lucien tried to button the puppy's new winter coat, but the fabric groaned. The buttons popped open three times.

"Five meals a day," Leon noted, watching the "chicken feather" struggle. "No coat is going to fit that animal."

Coco whimpered and buried his head in Lucien's lap. Usually, Lucien would defend him, but he looked at Coco's round stomach and sighed. "You might need a diet, buddy."

"Just skip two meals," Leon grunted. "Come on. Let's run."

Dean emerged from the manor carrying a birdcage. The parrot from the villa had masterfully masterminded its relocation.

"Welcome!" the bird shrieked. It spotted Coco and flapped its wings. "Stupid dog! Stupid dog!"

Lucien stared. "He can say that now?"

"They stayed at Joey's together for two days," Leon explained, clipping the leash to Coco's collar. "I think there's a blood feud."

The bird and the dog began a shouting match—one barking, the other hurling insults. Leon sighed, handing the cage back to Dean.

"I ship them," Lucien giggled, following Leon toward the garden path.