Twenty meters underground beneath the Chief’s Mansion—the Special Observation Room.
The indicator light on the airtight door overhead beeped as it switched from red to green. A team of stern-faced armed soldiers entered first, followed by a group of white-coated personnel led by Hu Li. The rest carried refrigerated boxes and special devices designed to suppress an Alpha’s susceptibility period.
The harsh fluorescent lights cast menacing gleams into every corner of the corridor. Both groups came to a halt in front of a door smack in the middle.
It was a suite, its outer room separated from the inner one by a gleaming sheet of glass that mirrored everything perfectly. Two male Beta medical personnel rose to greet them, while soldiers stood rigidly at attention in each of the room’s four corners, eyes straight ahead.
Behind the glass, the S-grade Alpha—dressed in a white shirt—had his back to the group as he yanked the IV needle from the back of his hand. Once it was out, he snatched up his phone, still mid-call, and turned. A black bite inhibitor masked his cheek and jaw, garbling whatever he was saying.
“How’s the situation?” Hu Li asked the two medical personnel tasked with round-the-clock monitoring.
“The Chief entered his susceptibility period just three hours ago,” one replied. “His pheromone levels are extremely high. We don’t recommend the sealing injection.”
The sealing injection was a potent compound drug that severed neural impulse pathways while stabilizing central nervous functions. In clinical use, it brutally forced back the onset of susceptibility, but the side effects were brutal—trading precious years of life for a mere seventy-two hours of relief.
“No point arguing.” Hu Li grumbled under his breath as he suited up in protective gear. “Just give it to him. Better if we wrap this up in three days, then deal with the susceptibility period afterward.”
Liang Shijing had already ditched the bite inhibitor behind the glass. His face was a blank mask, eyes glued to his phone. The military personnel cracked the door open with exaggerated caution. Hu Li watched and waited, satisfied that the S-grade Alpha’s pheromones wouldn’t bulldoze him, before darting inside with his med kit.
The inner room was a sauna of clashing scents—icy chill laced with blistering heat.
Faint, stuttering sobs leaked from the Alpha’s phone.
Hu Li and his team held their breath until Liang Shijing murmured his last words into the receiver. Then he looked up, his gaze slicing through them like a blade. He despised their dawdling, their trembling hands and jelly legs. Gritting his teeth, Hu Li cracked open the med kit amid the humming chill and withdrew the sealing agent. Agony twisted the Alpha’s brow as the needle plunged in, but the instant it came out, he was already fastening his suit buttons and marching toward the exit.
The pheromones evaporated. Sterilizing steam whooshed from the ceiling vents in thick clouds.
Airtight doors hissed open ahead of him one by one. Liang Shijing strode out briskly to where a gleaming black convoy idled curbside. Cheng Zhu flung open the car door. Liang Shijing kept talking into his phone, but the door slammed shut, swallowing his voice whole.
“I just want to go in and see him. Please, let me in, okay?” Liang Wangyou begged.
That morning, he’d slipped into Wen Yan’s bedroom and found it weird that Wen Yan was still conked out—Wen Yan always joined him for breakfast. Fine, if Wen Yan was sleeping in, he’d crash a little longer too.
Liang Wangyou clambered quietly onto the bed for a cuddle, only to jerk back when Wen Yan’s face scorched him like a hot iron. He ripped off the covers and bolted to smash the emergency call button. Then the doctors booted him out…
A heavy cold was wickedly contagious. Now Consul Ji stood guard personally, blocking the door. Liang Wangyou unleashed the full arsenal—tantrums, floor-rolling, puppy eyes, thigh-clinging. “Just one peek, I beg you.”
Consul Ji juggled calls with the house doctors and the Chief’s Mansion while Liang Wangyou latched onto him like a barnacle. He was midway through a gentle persuasion when the elevator dinged open. Liang Wangyou bolted free and charged at Liang Shijing, chubby arms splayed to bar his path. “Wen Yan’s sick and miserable. You’re not going in.”
He’d verified from countless sources that Wen Yan couldn’t stand Liang Shijing.
“Take him downstairs,” Liang Shijing said coldly, brushing him aside. But Liang Wangyou was fierce in daddy-protection mode. “Seeing you will make him feel even worse!”
The Alpha was a powder keg, fuse lit.
“If it weren’t for you, would he pull all-nighters? Glued to him day in, day out—storytime one minute, bathtime the next.” Liang Shijing’s face turned thunderous. “Move. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Liang Wangyou’s lip quivered. He stepped back—and promptly dissolved into heartbroken sobs.
Consul Ji’s head throbbed. Oak Bay hadn’t buzzed like this in forever… As far as he knew, Liang Shijing had never ripped into Liang Wangyou like that. He’d always nurtured the boy with exquisite care, every detail attended to. Words were sparse, but actions spoke volumes—something every soul in Oak Bay could attest to…
“Waaah! Waaah! Waaah!” Liang Wangyou’s wails echoed brazenly. Consul Ji scooped him up and hustled downstairs, terrified Liang Shijing might actually evict him for disturbing Wen Yan.
The room swirled with shadowy figures, the world a dizzy, foggy blur. Wen Yan’s ears rang with chatter one instant, silence the next. Every inch of him throbbed; his mouth blazed like an inferno. Chills clashed with fever, light flickered between twilight haze and pitch black.
Then a crisp, cool scent pierced his nostrils. He pried open heavy lids to glimpse a chiseled jawline. Someone lifted his arm; his head lolled softly onto an Alpha thigh.
The Omega nestled in the Alpha’s arms.
Mumbled words drifted by, unintelligible.
“And after an hour, you still haven’t broken the fever?” The icy voice cut crystal clear from right overhead. Wen Yan even felt the subtle vibration in Liang Shijing’s chest as he demanded answers.
“Our apologies.” The medical personnel flushed with shame. “We’ve administered the antipyretic. It may take more time.”
How was that their fault? Wen Yan couldn’t utter a word, merely twitching his fingers beneath the blanket. Liang Shijing glanced down; his expression eased. Wen Yan had meant to signal not to blame them, but Liang Shijing took it wrong… assuming the racket had deafened him…
The medical staff arrayed themselves at a respectful distance, mopping sweat after every exchange. A rumble from Liang Shijing’s chest—they bowed and stammered on. Another rumble… In the end, whatever the Alpha growled left them ashen-faced, livers practically purpling.
Utterly speechless… Wen Yan’s eyes drifted shut, and sleep claimed him.
He slept for what felt like an eternity, and when he finally stirred awake, his vision had cleared considerably. Liang Shijing remained in the exact position he’d been in before sleep claimed Wen Yan—half-reclining against the headboard, his left hand under the covers gripping Wen Yan’s shoulder, the other draped over his waist from outside the blanket. Wen Yan’s head rested comfortably on Liang Shijing’s thigh, and the temptation to drift off again was overwhelming.
Rain pattered softly against the window. In a low voice, Liang Shijing asked, “Want to eat something?”
It took a long moment before Wen Yan slowly rolled his eyes to signal no.
His cheeks bore an unnatural flush from the high fever, his long, thick lashes curling dramatically from the heat. His pupils gleamed clear and pristine, the overhead light scattering into them like a cascade of stars. Even in illness, an Omega’s beauty was breathtaking, though his frailty left him unable even to shift on his own.
“You’ve been asleep all day,” Liang Shijing said. “Not hungry?”
Whether from staring too long or the unusually tender timbre of the Alpha’s voice at his ear, tears welled up in the Omega’s eyes.
“Where does it hurt? Tell me.” Liang Shijing leaned down, speaking gently.
Tears still streamed from the Omega’s eyes, but this time the Alpha’s fingertip caught them before they could spill over the corners. Wen Yan closed his eyes, and Liang Shijing scooped him up—blanket and all—onto his shoulder, pressing his lips to Wen Yan’s cheek. “Why won’t you talk?”
On any other day, the Alpha’s demand would have been sharp: “Speak!”
“My mouth hurts…” Wen Yan murmured softly against his shoulder, his breaths coming thick and heavy.
After three months of careful dietary supplements, the Omega had finally put on a bit of weight in his cheeks and on his frame. But in just a few days, it had all vanished.
“He’s been sleeping nonstop, so the doctors couldn’t examine him. Open up—let me see.” Liang Shijing rested two fingers lightly at the corner of his mouth.
It was so strange. Why was the Alpha being this gentle today? Was he dreaming? Wen Yan longed to ask about the video, to question why he’d appeared so lucid on the phone despite his coma. He had a thousand questions, but pain wracked his body, stealing his voice.
“I’ll be gentle. It won’t hurt,” Liang Shijing promised, easing him back onto the pillow.
The Alpha showed remarkable patience, slipping his fingers shallowly into the Omega’s mouth. His fingertip pressed lightly downward on the lower teeth, parting them to reveal a slender pink gap. As stinging pain lanced through the Omega, Liang Shijing’s brows knit deeply.
The soft, fever-hot palate and the insides of his cheeks glowed with vivid rosy hues, scattered thickly with tiny white spots.
It must hurt even to sip water.
“No food,” Liang Shijing declared.
Anxiety-fueled inner heat had blistered his mouth with sores, but eating was the best remedy. Without nutrients, how could his body muster the strength to heal?
Yet the Omega hurt, so the Alpha relented.
Wen Yan’s thoughts grew more muddled. He drew two deep, ragged breaths, curled into himself, and slipped back into oblivion.
In his dream, he wandered a street bathed in blinding white light, clutching something close while desperately searching for something else. Finding it would end the pain, bring peace. But what was it? His mind latched onto the elusive goal with single-minded fervor. Even in his daze, he sensed the world beyond, aware that he was dreaming.
Doctors entered the room. Liang Shijing gently lifted his arm. A dull throb pierced from his elbow, fading as quickly as Liang Shijing tucked the arm back under the covers, cradling Wen Yan’s cheek to reposition him.
Every one of the Alpha’s movements was slow, feather-light.
Still, Wen Yan yearned for that missing thing—and nausea surged without warning. His stomach clenched violently before he could react, transparent fluid dribbling from the corner of his mouth… In the final instant before darkness swallowed him, he realized he’d vomited onto Liang Shijing’s hand…
