“No one is allowed to bully Wen Yan.” Liang Wangyou, still wearing his noise-canceling headphones, kept muttering his grievances. “Wen Yan is the best person in the world. He has such a good temper and never gets mad, but I’m a petty little guy who will. In the Taekwondo competition, I’m definitely taking first place to piss off that omega!”
“Go for it,” Liang Shijing said, giving his short little legs a kick by way of encouragement.
“Isn’t teaching him like this a bad idea?” Wen Yan turned to Liang Shijing and whispered.
“It’s perfect!” Liang Wangyou shot back, his ears sharp despite the headphones. “Father, you think I’m right, don’t you?”
Liang Shijing nodded.
The helicopter lifted off with a faint sensation of weightlessness, leaving the grassland far behind. The sunset painted the sky a soft crimson, turning Cream and its child Pearl into two white specks—one large, one small—strolling leisurely in the distance.
By the time they returned to Oak Bay, night had fallen completely. The three of them ate dinner together, but halfway through, Liang Wangyou began rubbing his eyes. He glanced at Liang Shijing, then at Wen Yan, before finally crawling into Liang Shijing’s lap and passing out.
Wen Yan felt a pang of envy. Liang Shijing looked thoroughly annoyed.
After sweating through a morning at the Taekwondo Hall and spending the afternoon galloping through dust on horseback, the boy was naturally filthy. Wen Yan set down his chopsticks and murmured, “I’ll carry him off for a bath.”
“After he finishes eating,” Liang Shijing replied, shifting Liang Wangyou into the chair beside him. He insisted the boy eat every last bite before they could move.
After dinner, the two men entered Liang Wangyou’s room together. The servants had already filled the bathtub. Liang Shijing lowered the boy in, but he showed no signs of waking.
“Isn’t he just like you?” The alpha scooped up a handful of water and flicked it at the omega’s face. Wen Yan ignored the prank and draped himself over the tub’s edge, gazing at Liang Wangyou beneath the layer of bubbles. The child’s face was tiny and rosy, his long lashes fanned gently over his eyelids.
“He even snores,” Wen Yan said in astonishment, though it was faint enough that one had to strain to hear it.
“What’s so strange about that? When he’s this tired, you could dunk him underwater and he wouldn’t stir,” Liang Shijing said.
“Try dunking yourself.”
“Feisty today. And no one bullied you, either.”
Wen Yan blinked. “Did the bodyguards report to you?”
“What do you think?” Liang Shijing lounged on the edge of the tub, his long legs dangling. “Putting on that innocent face and politely telling them to scram.”
“I didn’t mean to cause trouble…”
“And if you did? I’m not dead yet.”
Pretending not to hear, Wen Yan flushed and kept watching Liang Wangyou in the tub. “Are we just going to let him soak like this? How long?”
“Until tomorrow morning,” Liang Shijing replied.
“Liang Shijing… why do you always talk like this?” Wen Yan frowned, unaware of the flush on his cheeks or the dampness in his lashes. Propping his chin on his hand, he said a touch sulkily, “We could save time and discuss actual important matters.”
The alpha always did this—deflecting just enough to steer them into pointless chatter…
“How would you have me talk, then?” Liang Shijing asked, looking over.
“The priority is getting Liang Wangyou bathed,” Wen Yan said seriously.
“You wash him, then. Up for it?”
Of course Wen Yan was. He’d never bathed Liang Wangyou before. He stood by the tub, pondering for a moment, but drew a blank… and glanced helplessly at Liang Shijing. “I’m not washing right now,” the man said dryly.
“…”
“What should I do first?” Wen Yan asked.
“Towel,” Liang Shijing instructed.
Wen Yan fetched one.
“Wet it.”
He did.
“Now cover his face so he can’t breathe,” Liang Shijing said.
Wen Yan shot him a glare, half his body leaning into the tub as he gently wiped the boy’s cheeks with the damp towel. Stroke by careful stroke, afraid to chafe that delicate skin. Liang Shijing watched from above. “Planning to wash him till the end of time?”
“Then what do I do?” Wen Yan asked earnestly.
“Just use the showerhead on his head. Wash the hair first, then lather him up with body wash, let him soak, and I’ll hold him up while you rinse him clean.”
They fell into a smooth rhythm, cooperating seamlessly. Liang Shijing fell silent, and Wen Yan anticipated each step. When rinsing the boy’s hair, their fingers inevitably brushed—Wen Yan’s against the alpha’s wet knuckles. He noticed how warm they were and looked up, meeting Liang Shijing’s gaze from inches away. Hot breath ghosted over his forehead, tickling. The alpha’s eyes were deep and dark, his stare pinning Wen Yan’s face like a heated thread… His heart skipped a beat, and he ducked his head guiltily.
The bathroom went quiet, save for the soft patter of the showerhead.
The omega’s fingers lingered against the alpha’s knuckles, the skin there fever-hot.
“Liang Wangyou’s drowning,” Liang Shijing said.
Wen Yan yelped, frantically wiping the boy’s face with a towel. Shaking off his distraction with lingering aftershock, he took extra care thereafter to avoid touching Liang Shijing. Thirty minutes later, this pair—one careless, one meticulous—finally had their “child” clean.
“I’m heading to bed,” Wen Yan said in the bedroom, tucking Liang Wangyou in and straightening up with a soft goodnight.
Liang Shijing stood arms crossed, blocking the door.
“What…?” Wen Yan asked, puzzled.
“Didn’t you have something to ask me?” Liang Shijing prompted.
“Oh, right.” Wen Yan recalled. “Let’s talk outside.”
They stepped into the hallway, one after the other. Wen Yan leaned against the wall and ventured, “What about that horse?”
“It’s yours,” Liang Shijing said.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Wen Yan thought for a moment. “And the little spotted deer?”
“Yours,” Liang Shijing replied.
“But after that… I was unconscious the whole time, wasn’t I?” Wen Yan said.
“After what?” Liang Shijing arched a brow.
“…The Dependency Period.”
“Oh. You weren’t clear.”
Wen Yan swallowed his frustration and circled back. “I don’t keep them.”
“Think harder,” Liang Shijing said.
Tonight’s conversation was as pointless and answerless as ever…
After a pause, Wen Yan sensed something off about Liang Shijing. He was unusually talkative, less biting. His face was pale, but his breaths came hot—even from this distance, Wen Yan could feel it. He hesitated. “Well, goodnight. I’m off to sleep.”
Wen Yan had barely taken a step when Liang Shijing blocked his path once more, his tall, upright frame shrouded in shadow and eclipsing most of the overhead light. He could feel the man’s breath growing even hotter as he asked curiously, “What’s wrong?”
“Is the neck ring on?”
“I forgot. Sorry.” Wen Yan immediately flicked the one-way switch.
After a long moment, Liang Shijing fixed him with a heavy gaze. “Didn’t we agree to look at those photos together? How many days has it been?”
Wen Yan rubbed his hands together. He definitely wanted to see the photos, but Liang Shijing looked ill… A dull ache began to build at the back of his neck, and in that brief interval, his hearing and vision turned sluggish and heavy.
“Is it that unbearable to be around me?” Liang Shijing brushed the corner of his eye with the back of his finger.
“Are you feeling any better?” Wen Yan inched away slowly, eyes lowered as he asked.
“No. I’ve got a fever.” Liang Shijing was blunt.
“Why not see a doctor?”
“No point.” His voice came out low and husky, laced with a lingering tenderness.
In the hushed midnight corridor, the Alpha burned with fever while the Omega throbbed with pain. Their senses dulled, their nerves slackened. Such a conversation would never have happened between them under normal circumstances.
Alpha pheromones gradually spread through the air, soothing on the surface but harboring a violent undercurrent.
By the time Wen Yan snapped out of it, he had already followed Liang Shijing into the bedroom at the end of the hall. The window stood half-open, stars twinkling faintly, while a cool summer breeze rustled the white gauze curtains. In the enveloping darkness, the Alpha pressed him down onto the sofa and settled to his left. Pale moonlight draped their shoulders.
Liang Shijing watched him from the shadows. Wen Yan swallowed nervously.
“Are you in a lot of pain?” he whispered.
Suddenly, something soft yet firm pressed against his lower leg. He glanced down and spotted Liang Shijing’s slippers tossed aside. The man’s bare foot covered the top of his own slippered one, pressing down lightly without real force—as if it had simply landed in the wrong spot.
Moments later, a hot, pale palm settled on his knee. The heat seeped through the thin fabric to his even thinner skin. Wen Yan tried to draw his leg back, suddenly understanding why Liang Shijing had pinned his foot and gripped his knee: to keep him from fleeing.
—Damn Alpha.
“Wen Yan,” Liang Shijing murmured his name.
“Mm?” Wen Yan replied softly.
No sooner had the sound left his lips than those fingers on his knee clamped down. The thumb dug into the fabric, kneading with frustrated intensity. The Alpha’s touch was far too erotic—half of Wen Yan’s body went numb, his gland pulsing wildly as an electric current shot from his knee, racing up his tailbone and through his veins.
“Liang Shijing!” Wen Yan hissed through gritted teeth.
The kneading fingers froze, then withdrew. Wen Yan studied his face and wasn’t surprised to see those searing eyes gleaming in the dimness. Behind them, stars seemed on the verge of falling; the white curtains swayed distantly in his wake. Yet his silhouette cut a purer, more elegant figure than the scene itself—noble and aloof, as if the rogue advance had never happened.
Something warm was pressed into his hand.
“Inject me with this,” Liang Shijing rasped.
Wen Yan felt the cold, slender syringe and twisted on the bedside lamp. When he returned to the sofa, Liang Shijing had already undone his collar buttons. The pink liquid swirled ambiguously inside the metal barrel, evoking a cloying sweetness despite having no scent. Hesitating, Wen Yan uncapped the needle. “Will this hurt your body?”
“No,” Liang Shijing said. “Go ahead.”
Wen Yan knelt one leg behind him, planting the other firmly on the floor. “It might sting a little.”
“Mm.” Liang Shijing buried his face in the sofa back, letting out a muffled hum.
That single note sounded like a familiar, suppressed gasp. Wen Yan’s hand trembled, but he forced himself to stay steady. He leaned in and jabbed the needle precisely into the gland, pushing the pink liquid steadily into the surrounding skin.
Once it was done, Liang Shijing rolled over, half-lidded eyes fixed on him. Only then did Wen Yan notice the unnatural flush staining his cheeks, though his breathing had evened out. His thin lips were pursed, and his temples glistened with sweat.
The Alpha looked just like an addict… Wen Yan kept watching until clarity returned to those eyes. His alarm only deepened.
“What’s really going on with you?!”
“What’s going on with what?” Liang Shijing pressed a hand to the back of his neck and drew a deep breath.
Wen Yan grew frantic. “Are you on drugs? How could you do something like that? What will happen to Liang Wangyou?”
The biomimetic agent was just a temporary fix, but he couldn’t understand how the Omega had leaped to drugs.
“Sometimes I really have no idea what’s going on in that head of yours,” Liang Shijing said wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Isn’t this drugs?”
“If you say it is, then sure. Want to call the cops? Have them haul me away?”
“…Sorry.”
Wen Yan finally realized he’d jumped to conclusions. His mind wandered wildly: the nation’s Chief locked up in a police station, him getting the call to bail him out—what an absurd reversal! Chief Liang in jail… But it wasn’t entirely his fault for thinking that way. The Alliance strictly mandated that Alpha inhibitors be deep blue in cold tones, which induced visual contraction and stabilized moods. They outright banned production in any other color—let alone one as suggestive and intimate as pink.
“Go to bed. Give that brain of yours a proper rest,” Liang Shijing said as he rose and shrugged on his suit jacket.
“Not looking at the photos anymore? Aren’t you going to sleep?” Wen Yan asked blankly.
“I’ve still got work to finish.” Liang Shijing pulled out his phone, glanced at it, tapped a few times to summon security for a car. Wen Yan murmured an “oh,” took two steps away, then turned back with even more vacant sincerity. “Did your fever really break that fast?”
“I see you’re not scared of me one bit.”
“What do you mean?”
Liang Shijing gripped his shoulders and spun him forward like a soldier executing an about-face. “Don’t talk. And stop being so damn foolish around me.”
“I mean, if you’re still not feeling well and need my pheromones, I can provide them,” Wen Yan said quietly.
“Willing to come with me to the Chief’s Mansion and pull an all-nighter?”
“Can I sleep in the chair next to you?”
“The lounge has a huge bed—isn’t that enough room for you to toss and turn?”
“I don’t sleep in beds other Omegas have used,” Wen Yan said.
Liang Shijing gripped his chin and turned his face toward him. “Say that again, omega? You think any omega would dare enter my lounge? Any unidentified person approaching within three seconds without just cause gets shot on sight. Do you think the snipers at the Chief’s Mansion are useless?”
“Then I understand…” Wen Yan shuddered at the thought of Liang Shijing sleeping while hugging that green, fluffy pillow thing.
“No more nonsense. Come with me,” Liang Shijing warned.
The black convoy drove out of Oak Bay and arrived at the Chief’s Mansion near dawn. This vast white building had only a few lights on when viewed from afar. Wen Yan silently reflected that everyone in the political world envied taking charge of this building, yet they had no idea of the hardships that came with the power it wielded.
Being the Chief was actually a power cage—no holidays, no personal time, no personal space.
His father, Wen Zecheng, had chased power at the cost of others’ lives, only to lose his own in the end. Liang Shijing had used that same power to exact revenge, earning the admiration and respect of all. Yet Wen Yan didn’t think he was happy. After being eroded by power for so long, they both carried an insatiable weariness.
It was like a besieged city: those who couldn’t enter lost themselves in longing, while those inside grew numb and indifferent.
The air carried a refreshing, invigorating cool fragrance. Cheng Zhu and a group of Secretary-Generals waited in the corridor. When Liang Shijing arrived, they all stood at attention and greeted him. The bodyguards pushed open the door, and Wen Yan followed him into the Chief’s Suite with his head bowed.
“Tonight I’m pulling an all-nighter for meetings. You go rest. There are my pajamas in the closet—change into them yourself. If you’re hungry, press the bell.” Liang Shijing tossed his coat onto the guest sofa, then removed his cufflinks. His expression was impassive, his superior features sharp and clear, brows and eyes defined; an aura of authority seeped out with every movement. “Remember to set the automatic curtains to close at 7. Don’t wake up groggy in the morning and blame me again.”
Wen Yan’s gaze grew dazed.
“Speak,” Liang Shijing said with a frown.
“What?” Wen Yan asked blankly. “What did you just say?”
“You’re a pig.” With that, Liang Shijing tossed the two white porcelain cufflinks onto the table, rolled up his sleeves, and headed for the lounge. Wen Yan followed and watched as Liang Shijing first adjusted the sensor light in the bathroom, then moved the call bell from the left nightstand to the right. He picked up the remote and fiddled with something aimed at the curtains, then went to the living room to pour a glass of water and set it on the right nightstand. Finally, he returned, shoved Wen Yan onto the bed, and said, “Sleep. I’ll block your phone if you play with it.”
What the heck?
—The door slammed shut.
Wen Yan stood there in a daze, wondering what Liang Shijing had just busily done and rattled off.
The alpha was really out of sorts tonight…
But the alpha was exceptionally handsome tonight…
