Warning: none at the moment.

AN. Thank you to everyone who have read, subscribed and commented on this story. They made me very happy :D :D :D 

Wu Yifan was born on November 6^th. He was born after 18 hours of labor and lots of bleeding. His mother didn’t make it and his father had blamed him for his mother’s early passing. Old Mr. Wu was the one who took care of Yifan since his father couldn’t bear to look at the child. He fell into depression over losing his wife and old Mr. Wu had to send him to some secluded asylum deep in the snowy mountains of Switzerland or some other place. No one really knew for sure, they just knew that young Mr. Wu had left due to ‘health reasons’.

Truth was, old Mr. Wu wanted to get rid of his weak minded son. He shuddered to think of what would become of his business if it ever fell to the sobbing pathetic fool he called his son. Everything he and his fore fathers had worked so hard to build would crumble away into dust in a blink of an eye.

No, old Mr. Wu wouldn’t let that happened. He had a legacy and he would make sure it carried to the next generations. So he sent his son away and he made sure the depressed man stayed away.

With young Mr. Wu out of the picture, it was clear that Young Master Wu Yifan was the next in line to inherit old Mr. Wu’s business. Old Mr. Wu made sure to raise, shape and prepared Yifan to be next leader of the Wu clan. And Yifan didn’t disappoint.

He grew up to be a cunning, cold and calculating handsome bastard. He wasn’t unnecessarily cruel, in fact he was quite sweet to the people he like. Too bad the number of people he liked could be counted on one hand with fingers to spare. But Yifan was unfailingly polite to other people, he was even known to be respectful to people he deemed ‘worthy’ be it friend or foe. The only time Yifan turned unpleasant was when he dealt with incompetent fools.

Old Mr. Wu was proud of how Yifan turned out. He mentally patted himself on the back after every deal Yifan sealed. And Yifan sealed loads of million dollar deals. All in all, old Mr. Wu felt no qualms about leaving the Wu clan in Yifan’s more than capable hands.

*****

Park Chanyeol was born on November 27^th. He was born after only 4 hours of labor with no complications whatsoever. He was a fussy child, always demanding for attention. He could never sleep peacefully on his crib, preferring to sleep on someone’s arms instead. The most frequent human cradle was his nanny. His father had a whole empire to run and his mother had whole other affairs to take care of. But when they were home, Chanyeol would be sleeping sprawled across his father’s torso while his mother kept one hand safely on his little back.

Overall, Chanyeol had a pretty happy childhood. One only needed to overlook his gun training and the various martial arts his mother insisted he learnt. His father had rolled his eyes and asked his mother ‘why use so much effort when one bullet in the head is enough?’ To which his mother replied ‘and when you’re out of bullets and human shields and there are still people after you? What are you going to do then?’

His father had no good come back (or he just wisely shut up to not annoyed her further, swallowing his follow up remark of ‘but martial art won’t do him any good if they still have bullets’), so Chanyeol found himself kicking and punching at sandbags every morning and learning how to assemble a weapon under one minute and shoot moving target in the afternoon

Old Mr. Park had his doubts about little Chanyeol who ran around the estate with big smiles and sparkling eyes. But when the bundle of sunshine’s little fingers wrapped around a gun, it was like a dark cloud came over him. His lips thinned into straight line, his head tilted to the side a bit and his eyes squinted just so. The boy held his breath and pulled the trigger, emptying an entire magazine into the head of a practice dummy. His little body shook with the recoil but his stance never wavered. When the dummy’s torn head finally hit the ground, Chanyeol had returned to his cheerful self, big grin adorning his chubby face as he looked at his grandfather for approval.

Old Mr. Park ruffled Chanyeol’s hair and gave him a small smile. “Let’s see how good you are with your fist” was his only comment.