The entire Oak Bay had fallen into the tranquil silence of night.
A bright desk lamp illuminated the study. Wen Yan had rolled up his sleeves and was hunched over the table, fiddling with some clay. So far, he had tried twenty different kinds of sea creatures, but he was still far from finding one that Liang Wangyou would like.
Liang Shijing had been out all day. He’d probably already forgotten about the photos, hadn’t he?
Suddenly, there were two soft knocks at the door, as if someone had entered. Steady, unhurried footsteps grew closer and closer… In the next second, the towering black silhouette of the S-level Alpha appeared. Wen Yan gulped nervously. What was Liang Shijing doing, coming in so late at night?
The pale silk bedsheets lay spread out like a layer of mist in the dimness. The Alpha paused for a moment before flipping back the covers.
Of course, there was no one on the bed. The Alpha rushed to the bathroom and quickly searched it, without even thoroughly checking the rest of the room. He tapped his wristband twice, and an alarm blared throughout Oak Bay…
This was the highest level of alert!
Wen Yan froze in shock. With a screech, he shoved his chair back. The Alpha whipped around.
The lights blazed on, and their eyes met.
“What are you doing…?” the Omega asked, at a loss for words.
Dense footsteps echoed simultaneously from downstairs, upstairs, and outside. Harsh spotlights flashed like fleeting ghosts across the walls.
In just three seconds, the bodyguards arrived.
Liang Shijing blocked the doorway. Wen Yan couldn’t see how many had come, but he could distinguish the footsteps. He stood there in a daze, not daring to speak. Liang Shijing’s face was as cold as an ice cellar as he explained, “It’s nothing.”
The well-trained bodyguards withdrew, and the alarm fell silent soon after… The sudden absence of noise made the space feel even more eerily quiet. Liang Shijing walked slowly to the desk and let out a long, deep breath—one that seemed to go on forever. Wen Yan suddenly realized he was holding back his emotions. It made sense; anyone would be angry in that situation.
He’d had plenty of time to call out that he was there, or even just to turn on the desk lamp without a word. But he hadn’t done anything, staying hidden in the dark shadows, watching silently as the Alpha searched for him in worry—even triggering the highest-level security alert. Under that alert, the whole of Oak Bay would lock down; everyone except the bodyguards had to stay put.
Liang Shijing had caused such a commotion for him. Liang Shijing had abused his authority like this for him… But it was just a little misunderstanding. Or perhaps it had been a prank.
Either way, it was enough to infuriate anyone.
Liang Shijing said nothing for a long time. Wen Yan thought he was about to chew him out for hiding there so late, or for maybe planning to run away and avoid providing pheromones or something like that.
“Why aren’t you resting yet?” was all Liang Shijing said.
There was no blame, no anger—just the same calm, unflappable tone as when he’d said “not dead out there.”
“I’m sorry. I turned off the lights because I was getting ready to sleep… I didn’t expect you to come in. It wasn’t on purpose, really, I’m so sorry.” Wen Yan stumbled through his explanation.
Liang Shijing pulled over a nearby chair and sat across the desk from him. His hand gripped the armrest, the veins bulging on the back of his hand, betraying how tense his body still was. His black shirt clung thinly to him, revealing his lean, toned forearms. His features were strikingly handsome, yet utterly expressionless. That was when Wen Yan truly felt the sharp pressure bearing down on him.
And something had changed… As Liang Shijing turned his dark eyes, a heavy weight settled slowly. The gaze wasn’t the scrutinizing one from their reunion; it was the kind used on a prisoner, full of restraint.
“I’m sorry,” Wen Yan could only offer this feeble apology. His mind involuntarily replayed what he’d just seen.
The Alpha moving through the darkness, so familiar with it that it seemed he had night vision. If Wen Yan hadn’t misheard, the Alpha had headed straight for the big bed. What was he doing here so late? Was this the first time? Or had it happened countless times before?
“Keep going,” said Liang Shijing, glancing at the clay still scattered on the desk. He seemed unsure what else to say and wearily rubbed his brow.
But how could he keep going now? Wen Yan clenched his dirty fingers. “Why did you come in?”
Liang Shijing looked at him impassively.
“What’s wrong?” Wen Yan could tell he wasn’t angry, but he couldn’t guess what Liang Shijing was thinking.
“I need your pheromones,” Liang Shijing said after half a second.
Wen Yan blanked out for a moment. Right—he must be having a flare-up, which was why he’d slipped in quietly in the dead of night to find him. Normally, Liang Shijing wouldn’t spare him a glance. How had he forgotten that crucial detail?
“Okay, just wait a second.”
The protruding vibration part of the neck ring dug painfully into his gland, so Wen Yan always switched to a barrier patch for sleep each night. He went to the bathroom to put the neck ring back on. The moment he activated it, pain surged through his body—from sharp stabs to numbness, then to blackness in his vision and unsteady steps. It took only a minute.
When he returned to the study, Liang Shijing was still sitting at the desk, but now there was an empty injector on the table. Wen Yan swallowed the questions he wanted to ask. Unsure what to do next, he went back to molding the clay. His movements were slow and steady, handling it as gently as if it were the world’s most precious treasure. Liang Shijing’s gaze lingered on his hands, his face, tracing over his nose tip, the dip of his upper lip, his jaw, his neck, and the pale expanse of collarbone visible beneath his loose sleepwear.
“Wen Yan,” Liang Shijing said suddenly.
“Hm?” Wen Yan looked up stiffly, letting out a small hum through his nose. The brilliant light draped over the Alpha’s shoulders, making him seem less aloof than usual—mild and handsome, even.
“Want to look at the photos?”
Wen Yan felt like that wasn’t really what he meant to say. He set down the clay and stood. “Can we?”
“Come with me,” said Liang Shijing, rising as well.
He hadn’t set foot in this bedroom for many years. That big bed had once held him for so long… those frenzied days and nights of the Dependency Period… His cheeks heated up, and Wen Yan looked away.
After a moment, Liang Shijing emerged from the safe room with a thick hardcover photo album. He pointed to the resting sofa by the bed. Wen Yan sat down, and Liang Shijing settled right beside him, with only the thickness of a sheet of paper between them. The album lay open across their laps. The Alpha’s long fingers turned the cover, revealing a wrinkled baby photo. It was Liang Wangyou right after birth—skin all red, tiny fists balled up beside his cheeks.
“Do you remember this one?” Liang Shijing asked softly.
The pain in his gland seemed to have eased somewhat, and at the same time, Wen Yan remembered everything. Back then, he had woken up in a daze on the bed and suddenly noticed a scar on his belly. The scar had already healed almost completely by that point, and Liang Wangyou—no longer than an arm—was wrapped in a tiny blanket, sleeping peacefully beside him. Panic, confusion, and pain had crashed over him like a tidal wave, but the instant he laid eyes on Liang Wangyou, those emotions inexplicably faded away.
“He was so small back then, his little cheeks ice-cold. I got scared and called Hu Li over. That’s when I learned it was all normal,” Wen Yan said, a touch embarrassed.
“Right.” Liang Shijing gazed at the photo. “It scared them too. They checked everything over and over.”
The second photo showed Liang Wangyou lying on a baby scale, the digital display reading 4.1kg. “In less than half a month, he’d gained 0.7kg,” Liang Shijing said.
Wen Yan hadn’t seen Liang Wangyou from this stage onward—he’d already left by then—so he studied the picture quietly for a long while.
“Turn the page?” Five minutes later, Liang Shijing asked.
“Yeah.”
The third photo captured Liang Wangyou lying on the bed, wailing at the top of his lungs. His face was even redder than it had been at birth, his tiny mouth stretched wide open.
“What happened here?” Wen Yan asked nervously, as if the crying baby were right there in front of him.
“After you left, he cried like that every night,” Liang Shijing said. “The childcare workers tried everything. In the end, they had to wrap him up in clothes you’d worn before he’d go to sleep.”
“Sorry…” The omega’s eyes gradually reddened.
“I’m not blaming you.” Liang Shijing’s expression remained impassive as he turned to the next page. By now, Liang Wangyou had grown considerably, his cheeks round and chubby, drool dangling from his rosy little mouth. “He could crawl by this point and occasionally babble one or two simple words,” Liang Shijing continued.
“What did he say?”
“Couldn’t make it out. That’s probably when he picked up his chatterbox habits,” Liang Shijing remarked.
“You really think he talks that much?”
“Doesn’t he barely talk to me?”
Wen Yan paused. “You’re a little jealous, aren’t you?”
“No.” Liang Shijing met his eyes and drawled lazily, “What’s to be jealous of with him?”
Wen Yan pretended to buy it completely and turned the page himself, his palm hovering lightly over the back of Liang Shijing’s hand. “Can you tell me about every single photo?”
“In installments.” Liang Shijing flipped his hand to cover Wen Yan’s and gave his foot a gentle nudge. “Pay up.”
Wen Yan stared blankly at their clasped hands. Liang Shijing’s palm was very warm, his fingertip idly brushing the sensitive skin at the base of Wen Yan’s thumb.
“Why’d you go quiet again?”
Wen Yan yanked his hand back as if burned and mumbled into his chest, “What do you want? I don’t have anything good to give…”
All his good stuff was reserved for Liang Wangyou. No way was he handing any over to Liang Shijing.
But the repeated tilting of his head tugged at his gland. He drew in a faint breath, and Liang Shijing pressed a hand to his neck. “What’s wrong?”
Under the constant high-frequency vibrations, even the slightest pressure felt like a razor blade slicing into his gland. Wen Yan babbled an excuse. “I want to go back and rest.”
“Got something to tell me?” Liang Shijing’s gaze sharpened as he stared at him for several seconds.
“No. Nothing.”
With that, the omega dragged his stiff legs out of the Alpha Bedroom. The moment he stepped into his own room, he slumped against the wall, too impatient to make it to the bed. Under the glow of the wall lamp, he fumbled out a candy box and tipped two painkillers into his mouth. But then the door flew open. A hand clad in a black shirtsleeve poked through the gap, and the alpha’s full figure loomed before him.
“Spit it out,” Liang Shijing said coldly.
Wen Yan rolled the pills desperately in his throat, but Liang Shijing was faster. He pinched Wen Yan’s chin to stop him from swallowing and slid his index finger into the warm cavity of his mouth. With the help of saliva and the slick tongue tip, he fished out one pill. Wen Yan gagged against the wall, but Liang Shijing showed no hint of revulsion. He held the pill pinched between two fingers and inspected it under the wall lamp, even as his own fingers gleamed wetly with saliva.
“How long have you been taking them?”
Wen Yan’s face burned, but he stayed silent.
“Fine.” Liang Shijing nodded stone-faced and summoned the bodyguards. “Call Hu Li up here. Now.”
